Toward a Secret Sky

“We are,” Hunter said. “There’s nothing around us.”


“This has to be it. It just feels right.” I walked through my thoughts out loud. “It says ‘if you seek,’ and we are seeking. ‘His monument.’ Could mean this church, but that’s pretty obvious. His monument is his legacy. Why couldn’t it be the secret way out?”

“Okay, go on.” Gavin seemed impressed.

“We need his help,” I continued. “We’re asking him to show us the way out. And he’s saying, ‘Here it is. Just look around you.’”

Hunter opened the small metal gate, walked into the nook, and stood at the foot of the metal slab. Gavin joined her, moving toward the window and tracing the edges of stones with his fingers, probably looking for a loose one. I preferred to stay outside, away from the deceased. I kept reading.

“Circumspice. Look around you. Look around you.” Suddenly, like a dodge ball in gym class, it hit me. Hard.

“Look around U!” I said. “The letter u. Maybe that’s it!”

There was only one u in circumspice, and I began to read the letters in a circle around it, starting with the letter directly above it to the left. There were seven: N-U-M-O-N-A-C.

LECTOR, SI MONUMENTUM REQUIRIS,

CIRCUMSPICE.

Obijt XXV. Feb: Ano: MDCCXXIII. ?t.XCI.

“Numonac?” Hunter said. “Is that Latin?”

“No, but it’s close,” Gavin replied. “And it could be two words.”

“Numo and nac?” Hunter said. “Any better?”

“Nope,” Gavin answered.

“What if we start with a different letter than the n?” I asked, already mentally doing just that. “If you start with the m and go counterclockwise, it’s M-U-N-C-A-N-O.”

“Mun cano means ‘grey world’ in Latin,” Gavin said, lighting up. “Does that mean anything to anyone?”

“Greyworld is the name of those artists who install large, interactive sculptures around London,” Hunter offered. “Trash bins that talked in Cambridge, traffic posts that played music, trees that sounded like a music box when you turned a golden key on their trunks, a nighttime rainbow in Trafalgar Square …”

“Do their works have anything in common?” Gavin asked.

“I guess the fact that they all use sound,” Hunter answered. “They started with fence railings that played a song when you dragged a stick along them.”

Sound. An odd clue, considering the crypt was deathly quiet.

“I’m not sure reading counterclockwise makes much sense,” I corrected myself. “You’d read a circle more like a rainbow, from top and bottom, left to right each time. That would be num cano.” Goosebumps prickled across my forearms.

“In Latin, num cano is ‘you sing,’” Gavin said.

As if on cue, Hunter let out a piercing warble—“Here lieth Christopher Wren!”—and collapsed on top of Wren’s grave.



Hunter lay motionless on the marble slab, and probably due to shock, Gavin and I stood motionless next to her. But only for a moment. Because then the entire slab started to sink.

She lifted her head, smiling at us. “Rather dramatic, I know, but the occasion called for it. It’s so darn serious down here.” She didn’t seem to realize she was moving with the slab.

“Um, Hunter,” I said, afraid to move in case I made it worse, like jumping in after someone who’s just fallen through ice. “Your singing seemed to activate something and . . . the ground . . . it’s moving!”

The slab, now perfectly flush with the floor, stopped sinking. Hunter rose to her knees. She was now in the center of Wren’s slab.

“It’s not moving now, right?” she asked.

“No, it’s stopped,” I answered.

“Good,” she said, standing up. She took a step toward us, but as soon as she shifted her weight, the entire slab tilted. It must have sunk until it rested on a bar across the middle, because the metal plate was now acting like a giant teeter-totter. It kept tipping under Hunter’s feet, the top rising into the air behind her, until she was no longer able to stand. Her feet slipped out from under her, she landed with a thump on her bottom, and promptly slid out of sight into a black hole now opened in the floor. As soon as she was gone, the tablet righted itself, sealing Hunter below us.

She was gone, and the room was eerily quiet, as if she’d never been with us. Terror tightened its grip on my chest. I had to say something, to prove to myself I could still breathe.

“We have to get her!” I croaked.

“I’m on it,” Gavin answered, and he really was, leaping deftly onto the middle of the slab. “I’ll slide down, hold the slab so it stays open, and you come after me. I’ll catch you, I promise.” He shifted his hips, and the plate tipped open at the bottom again. As soon as it was wide enough, he dove into the dark hole, feet first. My heart sank as he disappeared. I was afraid my fear would swallow me whole.

Thankfully, the tomb didn’t swing closed. Gavin held it open.

“I’ve got it,” he called up to me. “Climb on, Maren!”

I looked around the crypt wildly, trying to decide what to do, but my brain wouldn’t hold a sane thought. I had just made a huge scene with Gavin, insisting I was brave enough to continue, but I hadn’t counted on the trip involving subterranean terror. Maybe I should let Gavin take Hunter to Magnificat by himself. But then I’d be stuck in the bowels of the crypt, I reminded myself. Just me and all the dead bodies. There was no good option.

The deciding factor was Gavin. No matter where he was, I wanted to be with him. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, climbed gingerly onto the marble slope, and let go. I slid into Gavin’s waiting arms, landing against his broad chest with a satisfying thump. I clung to him as I watched the band of light from the opening shrink into a thin line and then disappear as the slab swung shut. It was now completely dark.

I felt Gavin’s lips against my ear. “I’ve got you,” he breathed. I let myself melt into him a little, relaxing into his strong but soft embrace.

“Can you guys see?” Hunter called out from the darkness.

“Nope, nothing,” I answered. I begrudgingly stepped out of Gavin’s arms, since Hunter was right next to us.

I glanced around, willing my eyes to pick up anything: a shape, a shadow, a small movement. It was darker than anywhere I’d ever been—completely and utterly black. The ground had some extra give in it, so I knew we were standing on dirt. And since Gavin was able to hold the slide open, I knew that the room couldn’t be very tall. But other than that, I was at a complete loss. It was a scary feeling to be in total darkness. I found Gavin’s hand and laced my fingers with his. He squeezed mine reassuringly.

“I can see,” Gavin said.

“You cannot,” I answered. “It’s pitch black.”

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