“The tower is the least of our problems,” Orla said. “What matters what lies within, if they can’t get inside?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What’s wrong with the front door?”

  Penhaligon shook his head. “The means of accessing the tower’s center cannot be found through any conventional doorways. There is only one entrance, and it lies deep below ground, in the subterranean tunnels beneath the city. In order to reach it, you will need assistance. That’s where Master Easton comes in.”

  As if on cue, the far door opened and Easton came waltzing back inside. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder, and a long poster tube in his hand. As he approached the table, he popped the plastic top and pulled out a rolled section of paper. Unrolling it revealed a series of blueprints showing the sewer and subway tunnels beneath the city.

  A flash of anger surged in my chest as realization dawned. “Call me crazy, but those look a little familiar.”

  “Do they?” Easton said, using empty cups to pin the corners to the tree-stump-shaped coffee table.

  “Yeah, they do. In fact, they look darn near identical to the ones that were stolen out of my car last month.”

  “Imagine that,” Easton said. “A lucky coincidence, to be sure,”

  “Is it though?”

  “Master Easton,” Penhaligon said.

  Easton cast him a sideways look. “You paid me to get you blueprints. I did. The how is immaterial.”

  “Not to me, it’s not,” I snapped. “I had to pay for a new window out of pocket. Not to mention everything else that was in my bag.”

  “Take heart, love,” Easton said. “It went to a good cause.”

  “Okay, that’s it.” I made to rise, but Penhaligon beat me to it, his hands outstretched in mute appeal for me to remain seated. “Peace, Sergeant. Please. We were unaware of your involvement. The Order can see about reimbursing you for any monetary damages.”

  “It’s not just about the money. I’m not going to work with someone like him.” I nodded toward Easton. “He’s lucky I don’t slap him in handcuffs right now.”

  “Wouldn’t that be something to see?” Easton said.

  “That does it,” I said and rose to my feet. “I’ve heard enough about dragons and towers and entities. I’ve got real killers out there to catch. Tobin?”

  Tobin glanced up, then fixed Penhaligon with a stern look. “If she’s leaving, I’m leaving too, and we’re taking the ring.”

  Penhaligon’s face paled half a shade. “That would be most unwise. Please, I beg you reconsider. Master Easton’s demeanor can be abrasive, but he is thorough, and you’ll need him if you’re to reach the tower’s entrance.”

  “Like heck we will,” I said. “Tell me, Easton, have you even been down there?”

  He nodded. “I’ve explored the entrances, and a bit beyond. They seem manageable.”

  “Only because you haven’t gone in far enough,” I said. “Otherwise, you would have realized just how off those blueprints are. I’ve been down there, on more than one occasion, and I can tell you firsthand that these,” I tapped my fingers on the blueprints, “are more like guidelines. Things have changed in the past seventy years. It’s a maze of broken tunnels and hastily constructed detours. You lead us down there with nothing but these maps and we’ll never get near the tower. We probably won’t make it out alive.”

  An uncomfortable silence settled over the group, lasting a full minute before Penhaligon lowered himself back into his chair. “What would you suggest, Sergeant?”

  I bit off my first reply, which was to tell them to stick those blueprints where the sun doesn’t shine, and forced myself to take a breath. Whether I liked to admit it or not, those wraiths were real, and they weren’t going to stop just because I didn’t want to play along. “I know someone who could guide us. He knows the sewers. I could ask him.”

  “We would be forever in your debt,” Penhaligon said.

  “Even if he agrees, it’s all for naught if you can’t get through the door,” Orla said.

  A round of uncomfortable looks passed between them, and I found myself letting out a long exhale. “What’s wrong with the door?”

  “That remains the final piece of this puzzle,” Penhaligon said. “The tower is designed to prevent unwarranted entry. For that reason, the builders wished to ensure that only those of New England heritage would ever see the inside. They took precautions.”

  “Such as?

  “Keys, of a sort.”

  “And we don’t have them?”

  “We have two. There are three.”

  “Can we get the third?”

  “I’m afraid that’s where things get—”

  “Complicated,” I said. “I’m starting to see that now.”

  “The door contains a very specific lock, containing three scanners designed to search for specific botanical compounds. In order to be opened, each scanner must be triggered at exactly the right moment.”

  “What do you mean botanical compounds?”

  Penhaligon glanced over. “Amos?”

  “Trees, Chloe,” he said. “But not just any trees. Three specific ones, their legacies woven into Boston’s history.”

  As he spoke, Easton swung the backpack from his shoulder and drew out two folded bundles. He placed them down atop the blueprints, then purposefully stepped back.

  Amos continued. “The first belonged to the Great Elm. A symbol of brotherhood, and a silent witness to the history of Boston. Brought down by fierce winter winds in 1876.” He opened the first bundle, revealing a slice of tree bark roughly the size of a dinner plate. “Next, the Liberty Tree. Once located near the Common, the Sons of Liberty staged their first act of defiance against the British government at the tree. It was a rallying point, until it was cut down in 1775.” He opened the second bundle, revealing a similar slice of bark, albeit lighter than the first, and tinged with gray. “This is most of what remains, their bodies carefully disseminated and preserved ever since.”

  “You said three.”

  “The White Oak,” Amos confirmed. “Brought over by the pilgrims as a seedling, planted near Plymouth and felled by British Cannon Fire. There is only one known sample remaining, and we’ve encountered difficulties in acquiring it.”

  “Can we get around it?” I asked. “Blow our way inside?”

  Penhaligon shook his head. “Far too dangerous. The original builders would have thought of that. Likely such an overt act would set off a chain reaction that would bring down the tower and doom us all in the process.”

  “So you’re telling me we need this tree sample?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “And where is it?”

  Penhaligon glanced at the other two, then he leaned forward in his chair, bringing his mouth up close against my ear and whispering the sample’s location. What he said left me momentarily stunned, and a heavy silence settled over the room that lasted several seconds before I spoke. “Well, that’s going to complicate things,” I said, purposefully stealing from his own phrase book.

  “The two of you needn’t do this alone,” Penhaligon said. “You have allies willing to assist you.”

  “Like who?” I asked.

  “Like me,” The door we’d come through opened, and Warman stepped inside. “Hello, Amos. I got your message.”

  “Good to see you, Robert,” Amos replied. “Glad you could join us.”

  “Uh, what’s happening?” I asked.

  “This quest cannot be undertaken by you alone. You will need—”

  “Friends,” Warman said and raised his hand. I waited a minute, then rapped my knuckles against it.

  “Professionals,” Easton said.

  He didn’t offer a fist bump and I’m not sure I would have accepted even if he did. But I didn’t argue.

  A trio of gazes turned to Alberad, who blinked and straightened, licking his lips as if unsure. “Oh, uh, really? You want me to…”

  “If it’s not too much trouble,” Penhaligon said. “Your knowledge of the ring’s construction could be useful.”

  “Uh, oh, I see. Uh, y-yes, of course. If you think it wise.”

  “Much appreciated,” Penhaligon said.

  Tobin cleared his throat and stood. “Mister Milo is the rightful owner of this ring, but he’s too sick to go. If it’s alright with everyone, I’ll carry it for him. Just for a little ways.”

  “Well said, Master Stoutroot,” Penhaligon said. He peered at us, and there was a satisfied light in his eyes. “So it begins. Five go forth, with our blessing. You carry the fate of New England on your shoulders. God willing, we will see it through.”

  The Path Ahead. Thursday, August 6th 1500hrs.

  “One day,” I said. “They give us one stupid day.”

  “Maybe two,” Warman said.

  I snorted and shook my head. Once the meeting had ended, we’d exited the meeting room and gathered near the library’s entrance. Tobin and Alberad whispered quietly among themselves, while Warman stood beside me, a reassuring presence, casting occasional glances toward Easton, who waited off a ways by himself.

  The council remained cloistered by themselves for a few minutes before exiting. Orla headed off first, casting a sour glance our way before hobbling down the stairs and making her way into the parking lot. Penhaligon emerged and motioned toward Easton, the two moving off by themselves for a private discussion. Amos exited last, and I caught him three steps from the door.

  “You don’t actually believe any of this, do you?” I asked, getting straight to the point.

  Amos gave a tight-lipped smile, suggesting he’d been expecting this. “Any of what?”

  “What do you mean what? All of it. The ring, the tower. A stupid dragon.” I shook my head. “Come on, Amos.”

  He considered me for a long moment before he said, “Maybe you should come on.”

  I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that I’m not sure it matters what you or I believe. What I know is that they believe it.”

  “They?”

  “Blackstone, Cole, Harvard. The founders of Boston. They left journals, warnings for those who would come after. It’s a lot of effort for a hoax they would never see unfold. I guess the better question is whether or not I trust them, and that’s hard to say. For now, I tend to err on the side of caution, and I advise you to do the same.”

  “Caution,” I repeated, suddenly feeling very tired. Nothing like a well-thought-out argument to steal the wind from your sails. Didn’t stop the twinge of bitterness from rising in the back of my throat though. “They had a point in there. You could have given me a heads-up before now.”

  Amos made an acknowledging sound. “I’m sorry about that, Chloe. I wasn’t purposefully leaving you out. It just never seemed to be the right time.”

  “I’m in your store pretty regularly.”

  “Sure, but when’s the last time you came in just to shop?”

  I blinked. My pay was enough to make ends meet most months, if only barely. Any spare money I had went to vehicle repairs or Blue Moon expenses. Shopping for books was a luxury I hadn’t been able to afford in quite some time. “Uh, well…”

  “I’m not complaining,” he said. “I know you’re busy, but every time we see each other, you’re in crisis mode. I didn’t want to add to your stress.”

  I chewed over his words for a long moment, but I could feel in my chest he was right. I considered Amos a friend, but real friendships involve some element of back and forth, and I’d been pretty selfish in that regard. “Ah, jeez, Amos.”

  He offered me a soft smile. “It’s okay. Like I told them, it’s been a busy year, and you’ve got a lot of work still ahead of you. Let me know if I can help with anything else. Oh, and be careful.”

  He offered me a final smile and nodded toward Warman before he turned and exited the library. I watched him go, still feeling a lump in my chest. We all like to think that we are a good friend to have. It hurts when you realize that’s not always the case. I made a mental note to start reaching out more once this was over. Maybe I could even find time for a lunch or coffee break. Assuming, of course, that my caseload ever lifted. And that the city didn’t get devoured by a malevolent entity. Probably wanted to deal with that first.

  “You okay?” Warman asked.

  “No, but I will be.” I inhaled and let it out in a long sigh. “How did you end up here?”

  “Amos called. Filled me in. Thought you might need someone trustworthy to watch your back.”

  “He doesn’t think Easton is trustworthy?”

  “Let’s just say he harbors a healthy dose of suspicion.”

  “He’s not the only one.”

  “We need to talk about something.”

  I cast a sideways glance. “Okay, what?”

  “Have you considered the legalities surrounding what you’re doing?”

  “Matter of fact, I have.” Admittedly, it had been more of a surface level examination. No time to go deeper.

  “And?” Warman asked.

  “And I don’t see where we have much of a choice. The ring is real, and while I don’t necessarily believe that it has the powers to hold a fictional malevolent entity at bay, those wraiths we ran afoul of do.” I turned so that I was looking toward Tobin and Alberad. “The ring may be fool’s gold, but they’re not going to stop looking for it, and they’ve already shown that they’re willing to kill to obtain it. If we walk away now, Tobin and Milo are on their own.”

  “We could arrange to get them out of the city.”

  I shook my head. “Even if Milo was healthy enough, that would only delay the wraiths’ search. They’d find them, eventually. I have a duty to see that they’re stopped. Plus, I want some answers. If there really is something hidden in the Hancock Tower, I want to know what it is, and more importantly, who put it there.”

  “You think there’s more to all this?”

  “I think erecting a sixty-story tower within spitting distance of downtown goes a little beyond someone playing with a Ouija board in their mother’s basement or applying dental veneers to give the impression of a vampire. There are bigger players in this game.”

  Warman grunted. “Fair point. But regarding this tree, there are still legal implications to consider.”

  “Yep,” I said. “So we’re just going to have to minimize those as best we can.”

  “How?”

  “For starters, we keep violence to an absolute minimum. Nobody gets hurt.”

  Warman frowned and shook his head. “You can’t control that, Chloe.”

  “Maybe not, but I can try. And if I’m successful, it’ll go a long way toward smoothing things over. And if not, then I’ll have a heck of a lot more to worry about than a written reprimand from Bulwark.”

  “And after?”

  “When this is over, the tree goes back where it came from. Undamaged. With a little luck, it’ll be as if it never happened.”

  “We’re going to need more than a little luck to pull that off.”

  “Well, then, color me an optimist.”

  “I still don’t know how you’re planning to get the tree sample in the first place.”

  “As fate would have it, I have a man on the inside. Or better said, one who’s been inside.” Warman gave me a curious look, but I shook my head. “I don’t have time to explain. Just trust me.”

  “Okay,” he said. “When do we meet this mystery man?”

  “I’ll need to pick him up first. Before I do that, I’m going to see about our guide. Can you do me a favor in the meantime?”

  “Sure. What do you need?”

  “Can you take Tobin and Alberad back to Blue Moon headquarters and stay with them until I get there? Shouldn’t take more than an hour or two.”

  “No problem.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  He nodded and rapped my knuckles one last time before heading off to collect our ring bearer and jeweler. Odd as it may sound, I felt more secure placing them in Warman’s care than in some safe house with armed guards. Warman had a good head on his shoulders, and if those wraiths showed up looking for trouble, well, let’s just say the Green Knight had tried that over the summer and been thoroughly trounced from one side of a field to the other.

  Footsteps sounded behind me, and I turned as Easton approached. Likely he’d been waiting for Warman to depart. “Where are we off to?”

  “We?”

  He nodded. “Penhaligon said I’m to stay with you until this matter is concluded.”

  “To spy on me?”

  “Partially, but I’m also to report back if you and the ring bearer should fail. Give them time to collect their loved ones and flee inland.”

  “What if I say no?”

  “You can, but I’ll just follow you, and that might draw unnecessary attention.”

  “You think I’ve never slipped a tail before?”

  He gave me a dry look. “Sergeant, your car dispels large quantities of black smoke whenever you drive. I could follow you with my eyes closed.”

  Well, he had me there. “Fine. Let’s get to it.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re not going anywhere. At least, not until you march back inside and tell Penhaligon to open up his checkbook.”

  “How mercenary of you. How much did you have in mind?”

  “It’s not for me. I need to post bail. Actually, make that two bails. And some money for food. Tell him to make it quick.”

  Friends in Low Places. Thursday, August 6th 1845hrs.

  From Cambridge, Easton and I took the Orange Line south into Back Bay, then walked back to the alley where I’d parked my car. I spent most of the subway ride with my heart in my throat, afraid I would return to find only a smoldering wreckage, but either the wraiths didn’t know about my vehicle, or they deemed it unworthy of destruction, because it looked just as I’d left it.

  Easton waited for me to unlock the door, then dropped down beside me, wincing as the passenger seat’s frame dug into his back. I didn’t blame him. Hamsters had eaten most of the stuffing, and replacing the seats was more than my meager budget could afford.