The Fake Heart (Time Alchemist Series) (29 page)

And suddenly it hit me.

Why was there a breeze inside a library basement when the air wasn’t running?  My eyes widened and I jumped up, my feet smacking on the cold cement floor. There was a breeze—as small as it was—coming from somewhere in this room, just like all the times before!

But
where
?
It wasn’t coming from the direction of the stairs, or the windows…

I maneuvered through stacks of books and old desk chairs towards the stairs, but it wasn’t coming from up there. It was more to my right, so I headed that way. I bumped into books, cursing under my breath as I stubbed my big toe on the corner of a box until I reached a dusty empty bookshelf.

I placed my hand on the back of it—it was cold, as if a c
ontinuous wind was hitting it, l
ike when you
place a hand on the door of a room that has
caught on fire—it was like the fire was pushing the heat against the door
. Except this time, the cold
was pushing itself against this shelf.

I placed my heels and clutch on the shelf, tied the raggedy blanket around my shoulders so it wouldn’t fall off, and pulled at the corner. It took some effort. A lot of effort, but eventually, after nearly ripping my nails off, I tugged the end just far enough
to
where I could fit through. I wanted to kiss the shelf in glee, but I didn’t have time to waste.

I was met with complete darkness, the cold wind coming through faster.
I pulled it open a little further, shocked to find that there where shelves
on the inside
of the tunnel—with a few blankets piled neatly on one, a couple of dusty flashlights and granola bars. Through what little light I had the expiration date was last month, so these…supplies had been down here a long time. What was all of this
—

Sororities.
St. Mary’s sororities.
These were the tunnels they used for their initiations!

It was just like Karin had said: there really
were
secret tunnels under St. Mary’s! But would this lead me to safety or would I just rot away, lost forever underground?

“
And I know firsthand
where the tunnels lead too.”
Karin’s words rang true in my head, and I grasped onto her confidence, feeling myself warm over.
“
Bonaventure Cemetery!”

I made a mental note that if I ever made it out of this place alive, I was going to hug her and kiss her on the cheek like there was no tomorrow. Karin Foster is my idol!

The only problem I had now was…did I really want to do this? My heart thumped extra hard as I peered into the
darkness
. It was freezing cold and sme
lled like dirt and mold, but the end of that tunnel
would take me to Dove and Leon.

And possibly the Elixir.

I had to do this. I absolutely had to. And I did, slipping on my shoes (better to walk uncomfortably than barefoot. What if I stepped on a nail or something?)
, borrowed some of the…sorority sisters things
, and slid through the gap in the wall, clutching the thin brown bl
anket and my clutch
against my beating chest. The breeze was chilling, but it seemed to encourage me to keep going.

I just hope
d
I knew what I was doing.

CHAPTER 25

The
light that shone through one of the
flashlight
s
did little to help, but it was better than walking through a pitch black tunnel
. I t
hank
ed
my lucky stars
that I had found all of those sorority things, probably to assist new girls through the tunnels or reward them when they came back through unharmed—either way, if I ever saw Mallory again I would probably kiss her, too (or at least, be nicer to her). One of the blankets, despite being cold and dusty was a better improvement from the brown, oily rag, and the two granola bars filled me up nicely as I kept on. I just…had to imagine that I was going down the dark yellow brick road to Oz, and not to some creepy ass cemetery deep underground.

I kept my left hand on the tunnel’s wall at all cost
s
, walking along the eerie passage way. The air got colder and damp as I kept going, and I wondered how far it would be of a walk to get to Bonaventure.
An hour?
Maybe two or three?
I don’t think my feet could handle it. More importantly, would this itty bitty flashlight’s battery last that long?
My clutch barely had enough room to shove an extra one in there, but now I started to regret not taking them all anyway, even if I had to carry them the entire trip.

But I pushed forward; no way w
as I going to die
in a
spooky tunnel. If all else failed
, I could just go back toward
s the direction of the library—at least I knew it was a one way shot, even in the dark.

About fifty minutes
(just like I thought, according to the tiny pocket watch I had in my clutch. I had to squint to see the little hands tell me
) later, past eight o’clock
was when
I finally reached the end of the tunnel. The end expanded into a large, round room. Pitch black, of course. Not even the narrow stream of light could help me, but I kept my hand on the wall and circled around.

Suddenly
my knees hit something hard and solid and I plummeted forward. But I didn’t land on the ground; I landed on what felt like a large flat surface.

That’s odd, what a
re stone tables
doing underground? I gripped around, until I felt a breeze brush my face. Perfect! I followed the wind (as silly as it sounded), until I found a set of stone stairs and ascended. My head slammed against the ceiling and I swore again. It wasn’t until I pushed it up a little did I realize it must have been a door.

It was heavy, but not enough to hold me
in
as I carefully lifted it until it was all the way open. Crisp winter wind hit my face and I breathed in the wonderful fresh air. I looked around. I was inside some sort of building with a thin black g
ate that must be a door
. To both my sides there were huge stone slabs—coffins. I peered over my shoulder. In the moonlight I could make out another stone slab. The same stone slab I had just tripped over was a coffin. I stifled a cry, thinking I just wandered through some family’s personal
grave site
.

But I was here.

I was in Bonaventur
e Cemetery. At least, I hoped I
was. I mean, it took me quite a
while to walk here—it must be! I stepp
ed out, my feet aching from
however many miles I had walked underground and pushed the gate open. It creaked loudly. I scanned the dark area, save for the lampposts posted near the corners of the dirt road, their lights flickering in the wind.

The moon was nearly hidden by large oaks swaying in the wind. White stones popped up everywhere, gleaming like bleached bones. Statues of
crying
angels and little girls stared at me, wondering what I was doing invading their territory in the dead of night.

Dead of night
, I inwardly snorted,
how funny
. But it wasn’t funny anymore, especially since the small beam of my flashlight finally flickered and died. I beat it against the palm of my hand. It sputtered to life and then went black.

Okay, chill out
Em
. You ar
e just freaked out because you’re
in the cemetery in the dead of night! I didn’t really believe in ghost stories. Then again, I didn’t believe in alchemists until a few months ago. I guess anything was possible.

Still, I didn’t want to meet any ghosts or spirits tonight. Not ever, really.

So I was finally here in Bona
venture. Question was: where were
Dove and Leon?

Obviously, they’re
searching for the Hearst Family Site. Now the bigger question was: where was it exactly? I decided to go right (my lucky side, I guess you could call it), and stayed as close to the edge of the t
rees and gravestones as I could
in case somebody not so friendly caught me snooping around.

I must have walked ten, fifteen minute
s at the most, and I swear I
kept passing the same graves over and over. Now I wished I had planned this whole, “Emery escapes to Bonaventure!” idea
better—if only that damn Ice A
lchemist hadn’t tried to kill me, I’d be dressed warmly from head to toe with a decent map to lead the way!

My heels dug into the soft dirt
as I walked. The borrowed fleece
blanket did good at keeping the cold from chilling my skin, but it still didn’t stop the goose bumps fleckin
g all over my bare skin
. Something was very wrong here. I knew I wasn’t alone here—but it didn’t feel like somebody friendly was watching me.

There was faint shouting coming from behind some trees. My ears perked up. I recognized one of the voices—Dove!

I dashed forward, ready to hug her out of sheer relief and beg her to come back home before something really bad happened, and then I remembered I wasn’t supposed to be here. Instead, I ducked behind the trees and peered through one.

Dove’s back was to me, but I could see the hint of a fiery red scarf that blocked her ears from the cold. I almost giggled. The scarf was a gift I found at a
JC Penny’s
when I ordered my crappy dress. She was pretty shocked to see it, but I liked it—it was soft and silky, with the same deep red as her beautiful flowing tattoos that ran over her arms. Besides that she wore a thick black jacket, but her usual outfit was underneath—her white sweater, plain denim shorts and black
thigh high stockings
and boots. Didn’t Dove ever get cold?

“Get out! You don’t belong here!” Dove shouted, her voice piercing the black night. I flinched, thinking she was talking to me. But then I remembered she couldn’t see me. It was whoever was standing before her that she was shouting at—

It was Headmistress Margaret.

She had her hair in the same tight bun, and she was bunched up in a gray fur coat with white trimming. Her black pants covered what looked like black boots with a pretty high heel. The Headmistress di
dn’t seem like the type to wear
faux fur and four inch heels like the preppy, spoiled girls back at the dorm. She seemed to
o
…uptight for that sort of thing.

But her
eyes were still the same piercing black, and a tight smirk was on her pretty face. “It’s too late, little bird,” she sneered, “I already took care of that little rat. She’s somewhere back on school grounds frozen to death. Nobody will even know she’s missing until weeks from now.”

My heart froze—not literally, but it did stop for a split second, sending a wave of hot-and cold pulsing through my body.
Headmistress Margaret
was the one who had tried to kill me? Twice?! But—but why?! How could she—

A hand clamped over my mouth and the scream I had held in was muffled. I flailed about, clawing the arms of whoever was holding me until I heard them speak.
“
Em
!”
Jack’s honey-like voice was suddenly in my ear, “
Em
, it’s me!” he whispered, “Calm down!”

I did, and before I realized it hot heavy tears began falling down my cheeks
as he cradled me like a baby. Jack was here. He was here! But what I had just seen—what I had just heard, it scared me so badly I wanted to cry harder.

I clutched his tux tighter, wrapped in his familiar scent of Old Spice and peppermint
, and a hint of something earthy
. I sniffled. “Jack, what are you
doing
here?”

“I was worried. I followed you here. What on earth are you—oh, never mind,” He placed a finger to his lips as he spoke softly and grabbed my hand before glancing again at the Headmistress
and Dove, who were still glaring
at each other, “Let’s get out of here first,” he said, leading me away. Part of me wanted to run with him all the way back to the dorms and cuddle by a fire and forget all of this happened. But I pulled at his grip, which tightened.

Something wasn’t right.

“Wait, Jack,” I said my voice low and trembling, “What do you mean you followed me? How?
How did you even know I was here?
”