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She coughed as a cloud of white smoke burst into her face. Kierse waved it away, swiping at her eyes to try to keep them from burning. So there had been one last defense mechanism, and still, it had been magical. Kierse was certain that whatever she had just ingested was wish powder, but it was a different color than everything she had seen in the crates. Magic didn’t work on her, but she had no desire to find out if this stuff did.
The white smoke was a hanging question mark. She needed to hurry.
Kierse tucked her clutch under her arm, hauled the vault open, and stepped into the space. The vault was roughly a large rectangle, big enough for her to walk into, and it held enough money to weather a lifetime or ten. Cash was wrapped and stacked in staggering amounts. Gold bars lined the floor like bricks on a city street. Jewelry and gemstones sat like Ali Baba’s treasure trove. It was dazzling.
Her palms began to sweat as she stared down at them in confusion. She was frigid and yet . . . sweating. She placed her hand on her forehead, and she was hot. Unnaturally hot. She staggered forward, knowing that if she was found here, they would kill her.
Kierse searched faster, looking past the luxury for just one innocuous envelope. She rummaged through boxes full of jewels, and as she weakened, she stopped caring if she left them scattered on the ground. She moved past the African masks on display, the bags of what appeared to be seeds, and some sort of water machine. And then . . . there it was, nestled on top of a container.
Sweat trailed down her spine and over her breasts, carving crevices in her skin. She swallowed hard again. She wished she had some water. Anything to quench this eternal heat. She had wished for heat, and now she was ablaze. Maybe magic did work on her.
Kierse collected the envelope. Graves had described it to her perfectly. A small square stuffed to the brim and sealed with a holly leaf pressed into black wax.
This was it.
She needed to get out of here or she might literally turn to ash right where she stood.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kierse stashed the envelope in her clutch and then hauled the vault door closed behind her. She turned the dial on the vault and then headed back the way she had come. Her feet were slow, slow, slowing. She trailed her hand along the wall to keep herself upright. She stumbled another step, landing hard on her hands and knees. She cursed softly when she righted herself and saw that her left knee was bleeding and her hands were scraped up. She had tripped over her own feet, which was odd, since she wasn’t clumsy.
After what felt like an eternity, she reached the stairs. And it was only her heightened sense of awareness that made her stop before ascending.
There were voices coming from directly above her.
Kierse scrambled backward and around the corner, pressing her body against the wall as hard as she could. She prayed that she hadn’t tripped some alarm. That they weren’t coming for her, because she was in no state to fight. She could hardly stand.
“He was the one who said he wanted to sell?” a voice she didn’t recognize inquired.
“Yeah. It’s not like him.” This was definitely Montrell’s baritone.
“Are you suspicious?”
“Of Graves?” Montrell asked with an easy laugh. “Of everything he’s ever done in his life.”
“And yet, you’re going to send crates of wish powder with him?”
Montrell sighed. “We are. Just the red powder. And we’ll watch him. See how it goes from there.”
The pair had reached the bottom of the stairs. Kierse held her breath. Sweat gleamed on her forehead, and she felt fatigued and malnourished all at the same time. She could barely concentrate on what they were saying.
“Seems risky.”
“Everything with Graves is a risk. After what he did to me . . .”
But Kierse didn’t get to find out what that was. Montrell and the other man had turned left and were heading toward the underground chamber full of wish powder. This was her opening. She hurried to the stairs and raced up them as fast as she could. Which ended up not being very fast. She stumbled twice, her hand slipping against the stone wall and causing her to fall up the stairs.
To her relief, no one was guarding the upstairs door. She found the latch after a few swipes at the release and entered the study.
Her fever spiked, and she moaned as it ate at her. She needed to get to Graves.
Kierse ignored the bookshelf. She hardly had the strength to get it back into place. And why bother at this point? Hopefully they would think that Montrell hadn’t closed it all the way.
