The car turned onto a narrow street, and I began to recognize the area. We were nearly there. Council. I’d not been to the building, not seen it in person, but Brendan had laid out the property in detail only weeks ago. When Morgan was planning attack. My eyes fell to Logan, who seemed completely composed, and it lessened my sudden unease.
We entered the back of the property, driving slowly up a narrow road, and eventually through a low garage door that left us in what appeared to be the main building. Logan got out, glancing to a small black dome that I was fairly certain held a security camera, before coming around the car. I was unsure how all of this worked, so I stayed where I sat until he opened my door and held out a hand.
I grasped it, allowing him to pull me from the low bucket seat, and didn’t let go until we were standing at the doorway and Logan had to enter a passcode. The box beeped and flashed red, but did nothing. Logan grimaced, shooting a glare toward the domed camera, and pointed toward the door. A moment later, it slid open, which meant at least someone knew where we were. Three more coded doors, several long hallways, and a set of stairs later, we were standing at a thick metal shutter. Logan pressed his palm to a crystal pad and said, “Black.”
The shutters pulled back and a door slid open so silently, I felt the need to whisper. “Is that your code word?”
He glanced over his shoulder at me, grinning. “It’s my last name.”
Oh, I mouthed, and he jerked his head toward the door.
When we entered the archive, I felt my intake of breath. Brendan had shown me photos, but the sheer volume of books could not have been accurately portrayed.
“What’s wrong?” Logan asked from beside me.
My hand fell from my chest. “How will I ever find what I need?”
Logan looked disappointed. “I thought you were a prophet.”
I stared at him, mouth agape, and he laughed. “There’s a catalog, Brianna.”
Chapter Four
Archives
Catalog notwithstanding, this was going to take me much longer than a few days. The room was immaculate and organized, but shelves and shelves lined three of the four walls, not to mention the other door that I had a pretty good idea held encased documents that needed to be protected from the environment because of their age.
I flipped through the index, not sure where to start. I guessed there were at least mentions of what the ancients were capable of, some reference to powers that I could use to help Emily. It would probably be fairly old, maybe around the time their gifts had started to fade. But I wasn’t even sure they’d realized it right away. If they had, did they have the knowledge to understand it? Even today, with science and doctors, Morgan had been unable to advance his talents on his own. He’d only been able to use what my mother had given him.
I concentrated, trying to remember what she’d told me about them, but suddenly realized Logan was studying the way my eyes scrunched up. “You know,” I said, “this is going to take a while. You could go—”
The expression on his face stopped me, a clear no.
“Right. Okay then.” I stood, walking to the far wall to retrieve several of the old records of the dragon line, Aern’s line. And Morgan’s.
When I returned to the table, I spread them out, hoping one would jump out at me. It did not. I slid a random one forward, opening the carved leather binding to slightly yellowed pages. It wasn’t written in the ancients’ language, so I knew I hadn’t gone far enough, but I read a few bits anyway, trying to get a feel for how they kept records. Before long, I was engrossed in the lengthy Council reports and goings on, forgetting about Logan, who’d taken to pacing the shelves at the far side of the room.
I carefully turned the pages, reading of births, deaths, and transfers of power among the various leaders. But nothing detailed their gifts, or lack thereof. Evidently they’d still possessed a stronger sway, because they controlled their lands, the people, everything, but it wasn’t clear whether they’d held any other talents.
Logan’s pacing had moved closer, and I glanced at the clock, surprised a full hour had already passed. I closed the book I’d been reading and moved to another, this one older than the first. It contained more detailed birth records, a family tree of sorts, and listed the bloodlines much further back than anything I’d seen. It must have been copied from some other record, probably a scroll or …
I looked up, surprised to find Logan perched on the chair across from me, peering onto the page.
“Is there … something I can help you with?” he asked.
I laid the book flat, glancing again at the clock to find another half hour had passed. “I really don’t know what I’m looking for,” I said.
He shifted, sliding a hip onto the table, and spun a tome with his finger to read the title. “But you think it’s in the records?”
“Maybe,” I answered. “Mostly I’m just hoping something will spark an idea.”