Chapter 13 · Ghosts in the Vault

The alarm screamed so loud it made my teeth hurt.

Red lights spun over the vault door, over Julian's face, over the black veins crawling from his throat to his cheek. He stood between me and the open archive like he could block a whole army with one half-dead body.

Then Evan's voice crackled through the speaker above us.

"She's in there."

My stomach dropped.

I grabbed the old fire photo from where it had fallen near my boot. The paper was bent now. Julian's bloody hand. My father's face. That damn torch.

"Evan?" I shouted at the ceiling. "Evan, where the hell are you?"

Static hissed back.

Julian didn't look at me. His fingers flexed at his sides. Too slow. Too careful. Like he was trying not to tear through his own skin.

"Don't answer him again," he said.

"That's my brother."

"I know who he is."

"Do you? Because apparently everybody knows everything except me."

A hard bang hit the iron door behind us.

Julian's shoulders went tight.

Another bang.

The dead lock he'd ripped open a minute ago shuddered in its frame. Dust rained from the stone ceiling.