I frowned, not yet ready to admit defeat. My eyes had not recovered from the last time I used my grave magic, but I cracked my shields anyway, letting the other planes of reality superimpose themselves over the world around me.
It was possible that Remy’s ghost was here, but deep in the land of the dead, deeper than I could typically see without spanning the chasm between the living and the dead. Around me, the books appeared to wither and flake away, and I was careful not to touch anything. The thin bubblelike shield I’d built around my psyche to contain my planeweaving abilities was active, but I didn’t want to risk pulling anything over into the land of the dead and making what I was seeing a reality. I searched, letting my psyche stretch further. Around me, the books appeared to crumble to dust and drift away in the wind; the shelves they sat on rusted and rotted into collapsed husks. In the darkness just outside my field of vision, shadowed forms lurked. Not Remy. Not even ghosts. Things that had never been alive but could scent my shimmering life energy.
I drew back, pulling away from the land of the dead and slamming my shields closed. I hadn’t found Remy, but I didn’t dare send my psyche any farther across without a circle in place. Besides, I doubted the charm could have tracked his soul as far across the chasm as I went, let alone farther. Which meant Briar was right. It was a wild-goose—or in this case, ghost—chase.
I brushed back several curls that had been tossed into my face by the chilled grave wind, and the charm tugged harder. I glanced at where it was attached to the arm that was now at face height, and then I extended my arm over my head. The charm gave a slightly harder tug. I lowered my arm and the tug calmed ever so slightly.
I’m an idiot.
“Upstairs,” I said, bustling down the aisle.
The world was slightly more shadowy after my quick look through the planes, but considering I was already functioning in an odd grayscale, it was hardly noticeable. I was expecting to find a staircase but was pleasantly surprised when Falin pointed to an elevator set in the far wall of the building. There were several options of basement and subbasement levels, but only one floor above the main level. Falin hit the button and the doors gave an earsplitting creak as they closed. The elevator lurched, dropping several inches. We all grabbed for the rail before it stopped and started its slow journey upward with what sounded like straining gears.
“Craft, after all the shit I’ve lived through, if I die in a freak elevator accident, I’m coming back to haunt your ass.”
“I already have two ghosts haunting me. Position’s filled.” I made the words sound flippant, even though I was still gripping the railing.
Briar smiled, but she was the first out of the elevator when the doors opened again.
I led the way, following the tug of the charm. This level of the building was more of a mezzanine than an entirely new story. The front was a balcony that looked down over the many lounges and study nooks on the main level. The back appeared to be administrative offices. The center, through which we were following the charm, appeared to be some sort of rare book collection.
We passed an illuminated scroll under glass, the yellowed paper looking like it was close to falling apart. Display cases and glass-topped pedestals were scattered through the space, holding more ancient, weathered books and scrolls. In the center of the space were bookshelves, but very different from the ones we saw on the main level. These bookshelves were fixed with heavy Plexiglas panels that kept anyone from touching the books. There didn’t appear to be any scrolls on the shelves at a casual glance, and the books themselves looked much less ancient. Some still sported the telltale signs of age in cracked and split leather bindings, but others looked much newer. I assumed that this was a rare book section that authorized faculty and the occasional graduate student were granted access to. Security cameras hung from the ceiling in plain view as a deterrent. Heavy wards surrounded the texts on pedestals, but only the locks on the Plexiglas secured the books on the shelves. Apparently they were accessed frequently enough or by such a diverse number of people that warding hadn’t been practical.
We walked past the first two aisles of sealed shelves. When we rounded the third, the charm on my wrist jumped, trying to pull me down the aisle.
A woman maybe twenty-two years old knelt in front of one of the shelves. She had long black hair that had been pulled back in a ponytail so messy it looked like a drunk who’d never touched a hair tie before had pulled it back for her. The Plexiglas in front of her was slid to the side, and she appeared to be sliding something inside a backpack that rested at her feet.
She was also a corpse. I had to crack my shields to be sure—she was the best corpse I’d seen the necromancer create yet, barely any grave essence rose from her, but she was still dead.
“Hey, Remy,” I said, forcing as much bubbly cheer into my voice as I could muster.
The girl’s head shot up as one of her hands moved to clamp her bag closed, hiding whatever was inside. The other slipped inside her big coat, reaching for something underneath.
“Oh, hi. I, uh, was just browsing. Uh, do I know you?” Her voice was high, the words spit out fast in a nervous tangle.
Falin stepped in front of me. “Are you going to use the weapon you have under your coat?” he asked, nodding to her.
“I, uh . . .” She backed up a step. “I’m late for class. I have to go.”
“Remy, wait,” I said as she started to turn. Behind me, I felt one of Briar’s tranquilizer charms prime for action. I held up a hand, trying to stall her. People tended to cooperate better if you didn’t start your introductions by shooting them. I’d rather try talking to Remy first.
The girl flipped back around. A gun emerged from under the big coat, and she lifted it, pointing it at us with a shaking hand. “Don’t try to stop me. I’m desperate and—” she said, but cut off suddenly, her dark eyes going from squinted nervousness to rounded shock. “What did you call me?”
“Remy. Remy Hollens,” I said, staying very still. Both because I didn’t want to get shot, and because I didn’t want to escalate anything to the point Briar thought she had no choice but to take Remy down.
“How do you know who I am?” the body that contained the soul of Remy asked, the arm holding the gun slowly lowering until the barrel was pointed safely at the ground.
I gave a sigh of relief. First because I was no longer in danger of getting shot and also because I’d been right about this being Remy. It seemed a given as the charm had led us here and the body was dead, but in this case, I wasn’t taking anything for granted.
“Taylor hired me to look for you,” I said as explanation. Taylor had also fired me, but that was beside the point.