The subterranean cavern was enormous; so large, I couldn’t see the top of it. Mist swirled about where I thought the ceiling of earth must be. Hundreds of buildings of all shapes and sizes seemed to grow out of the ground and climb the walls, impossibly stacked on top of one another. Balconies, raised walkways, arched staircases, and meandering bridges connected every structure. A river swept right through the middle, down deep in the bottom of the canyon, physically separating the city in two.
Every available surface was covered in gold. The brilliance of it might have blinded me if we were anywhere near the sun, but being underground, the golden surfaces perfectly reflected the lights scattered everywhere. There were tall post lanterns, porch lights perched next to doorways, even footlights on the bridges. Magnificat, it seemed, had electricity—or some source of power, anyway.
“It’s amazing. It’s breathtaking. It’s . . . gold,” I stuttered. “Or, at least, it looks like gold.”
“No, it’s really gold,” Hunter confirmed. “Did you know gold doesn’t ever rust or tarnish? That’s why they used it down here. Amazing, huh?”
“So Gav . . . I mean, the angels are over on that side?” I pointed across the chasm.
Hunter nodded. “No fraternizing allowed. Angels are only supposed to have contact with humans in an emergency.”
Emergency. The image of Jo in her hospital bed came flooding back to me. “What about the antidote?” I asked. “Do they have it?”
“Yes,” Hunter said. “Just. The blood sample Gavin brought was infected with a really complicated poison. It took them awhile to find the right antidote.”
“Gavin brought a blood sample?” I asked.
“Apparently.” She shrugged as she led me along the main path. “He sent me a note that he’d finally gotten the antidote and was going to take it back to Aviemore tonight. He was hoping you’d wake up in time to go back with him. If not, I think he was going to deliver it and then come back for you.”
“How could he do that? I thought we weren’t allowed to fraternize.”
“He told them about your mom’s stuff, and said he needed to escort you back for your own safety. I’m actually getting my own Guardian too, since the demons recorded my heartbeat.”
“Where’s my backpack?” I asked, feeling a protective surge for my mom’s journals.
“It’s in our room, under the bed,” she answered. “No one touched it. We were waiting to see what you wanted to do.”
“I want to turn it over to the High Council,” I said, remembering my stubborn declaration to Gavin. “Maybe they can figure it out.”
As we walked, we passed a peculiar bridge. It was the only one that spanned the river and connected both sides of the canyon. A huge ramp spiraled up from the middle of the bridge and into the clouds above. I couldn’t see where it ended, but I did see what stood at its start: two hulking angels with their wings exposed, holding what looked like swords on fire.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Exodus,” Hunter answered. “The way out. It’s the only place in Magnificat where you’re allowed to meet with a Warrior or a Guardian angel—when you’re leaving.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I told you, they’re very serious about humans and angels keeping things professional. It’s completely against the rules to fall in love with one.”
Too late, I thought, as we hurried past the scary guards. I had already fallen. Far.
CHAPTER 27
Hunter and I were walking through the enormous Magnificat Library. Like every other building in Magnificat, it made me feel small and plain with its soaring, buttressed ceilings, stained glass windows, and golden chandeliers. I felt very . . . human. Hunter didn’t seem bothered at all. Spending the last several years living in monasteries and churches must have hardened her to the grandeur. She chattered away as if we were in the mall.
We were on our way to meet the Record Keeper. I was going to turn over my mother’s journals and the disappearing ink letter, and Hunter was going to find out who her new Guardian angel would be. She was as excited as a kid on Christmas morning.
“I hope he’s young,” she whispered. “And good-looking. Not like anyone could be as lovely as Gavin, of course . . .”
“Hunter!” I shushed her.
She raised her voice. “I mean Gavin, that guy you go to high school with, the normal human you have a crush on . . .”
“Yeah, that’ll fix it.” I rolled my eyes.
“Sorry.” She scrunched up her face. “But I can’t help it. He’s divine. I mean, really, how do you not want to get with that?”
“Hunter!” She was hilarious in an almost unholy way. I wished she were my sister.
She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You know it’s true. You know you want to.”
She was right, of course. I did. I missed Gavin terribly. I had only known him for a couple weeks, but it felt like we’d been together my whole life. He’d become part of me. When I was with him, I felt completely engulfed by his presence, like I was wearing new skin. Without him, I felt naked.
We stopped in front of a large doorway flanked by tall columns on either side. An inscription in stone above the door spelled, Dei sub numine viget.
“Under God’s power, she flourishes,” I read out loud.
Hunter looked at me. “Since when can you read Latin?” she asked. “You couldn’t read it at St. Paul’s.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I can’t. I don’t know Latin. I just know what that means for some reason. It’s the motto of Princeton University. Maybe that’s how I know it.”
“Do you know someone who went to Princeton?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“No,” I admitted. “It just popped into my head.” I shrugged. “Maybe I read it somewhere.”
Hunter heaved the heavy golden door open, and we went in. It was darker and colder than the other rooms; probably to protect the records, I thought. A giant wooden table that looked like an altar rose from a platform at the back of the room. It held the thickest book I’ve ever seen—maybe the biggest book in the history of humanity.
Behind the book sat a tiny, shriveled old man. He had the kind of creepy, long white hair that flowed right into a long white beard, so I couldn’t tell which strands were from his head and which started at his chin. A gray-haired woman, who looked at least one hundred years younger than him, stood by his shoulder.
“Welcome,” she greeted us. “I’m Theodora, the translator. And this is the Record Keeper.”
I couldn’t tell if the Record Keeper nodded at us or was falling asleep. He seemed so old, I was afraid he might disintegrate all over his big book.
“Hunter Sinclair?” Theodora called.
“Yes, ma’am,” she answered.
“The Record Keeper has found the name of your new Guardian angel. Here it is, along with everything you need to know, including your Leaving Time.” She handed Hunter a small piece of folded paper.
“Thank you.” Hunter did an awkward half bow, half curtsy.
“And Maren Hamilton?”
“Yes, that’s me” I said, wondering why I wasn’t as automatically polite as Hunter.
“You have something to give us?”