“We can get inside.”

  A pregnant pause met my announcement.

  Cael shifted uncomfortably. “Uhh, Princess? Didn’t you just say we couldn’t? Remember? Booby trap? Can’t disarm it without a fiery death?”

  “Explosive, not fiery,” I corrected. “You’re right though. We can’t disarm the trap without dealing with the enchantment concealing it, and the trap will go off if we do anything to weaken the concealment spell. But I think there's a way around it.”

  I crouched in front of the desk and ran my hand along the front, tracing the wood as if I could reach through it and grab our prize by will alone.

  “That noise — I think it was the compartment’s lid moving beneath the concealment spell. It’s hidden, but not sealed. Which means the trap can’t be tied directly to the desk. It’d be too volatile — the first time someone bumped your desk too hard, it’d take your legs off.”

  Cael crouched beside me, staring thoughtfully into the opening. “You sure? Seems kinda dumb, going through all that trouble to hide the godsdamned thing, but it’s still noisy?”

  I shrugged. “Why waste time and energy hiding it? Desks rattle — there’s always loose junk rolling around and banging into stuff inside, and the drawers need some space around them or they’ll stick. No one’s first thought is ‘secret compartment.’ Only right now, all the junk’s in boxes and the drawers are removed. So, what made that noise? And why waste even more magic sealing it, when noise doesn’t matter and a latch or a lock will do the job just fine?”

  Asher tapped his fingers against the table’s edge thoughtfully. “All of which is interesting. But how does this help us, Lord Dusk?”

  I bit my lip. “Cael, worst case scenario, how hard would it be to break into the compartment?”

  He hmmed. “If it wasn’t trapped? Pretty damned easy. It’s still pretty narrow, so the wood’s gotta be thin if you want to put stuff inside. Lock’d have to be small too.”

  “How fast could you pick it?”

  “Don’t need to.” He mimed sticking a dagger into a crack, twisting it sideways and the lid flying open. “Don’t need it to work again, right? Except there’s no way that doesn’t set the trap off.”

  “… What if I can delay the trap?”

  “What if you… Fuck no!” He pulled me upright, visibly fuming. “You promised you wouldn’t do stupid shit! Last time fucking kicked your tiny ass — seen healthier looking corpses. And that was one tiny spell on one tiny lock.” He crossed his arms. “Forget it, Princess. Your plans suck.”

  I laughed ruefully. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but that’s not what I meant. I might be able to drain the desk’s other spells if I were fully recovered and we had a few days, but those two? No. I can’t do it.

  “But I might not have to. I can’t read the entire trap spell, but I got a good look at the way the two spells intertwine. The concealment enchantment’s not a trigger — it’s keeping the trap from triggering. If the first enchantment weakens enough or outright shatters, then the second spell goes off. I don’t have the skills or knowledge I’d need to alter the concealment spell, and I can’t keep it from degrading, but I think I can reinforce the part of it that’s suppressing the trap. At least for a little while.”

  Cael paled. “Fuck. Did I almost blow us up when I checked it?”

  “No. The spell would have to flex a bit — it’s being used by regular people who forget things and don’t always do things perfectly. It’s like a spiderweb wrapped around the compartment: it can stretch around small movements or tiny disturbances, but breaking the box open would tear it.”

  Locke hmmed. “How hard would that be to do?”

  “Relatively simple, actually. I could have it set up in a few minutes. I don’t even need to link to the spell to do it. I’ll just be bracing it by adding some runes. It won’t hold forever, of course; that’s beyond my skills. But it would buy us enough time to grab whatever’s inside and run. Maybe.”

  “How long’d we get?”

  I waggled a hand uncertainly. “A few seconds? I’m not sure. It depends on how exactly the spell collapses. This is all theory — I’ve never actually tried this before.”

  Cael contemplated the desk for a moment, then nodded. “Can work with that.”

  “Wait.” Asher pushed off the clerk’s table, frowning at us. “As enticing as your plan is, that desk is evidence. We can’t just destroy it. Maybe if we give ourselves a few days, we can find another way to handle—”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “I think we should do it.”

  “… Jenny?”

  She pulled absently at a strand of hair that had escaped her bun, her eyes calculating. “Yeah, it’s damned risky, but if we’re right, we’re sitting on a goldmine of information. It’d cut months of running around.”

  “And if we’re wrong? Is it worth destroying other potential evidence on a hunch?”

  “Sean. Someone paid a lot of money to get that thing Enchanted. Do you really think there won’t be something worth hiding inside? And I don’t think Lord Violet’s going to give us another shot at this. Fisher did us a favour. Next time, it’ll have to be official.”

  I shook my head. “No, that’s not acceptable. Cael and I are trusting you with our secrets. Not the Watch as a whole, and not your commander. Not with this.”

  Asher sighed. “All right. I’ll… find a way to explain this to the commander later.”

  “You can blame me, if you like,” I offered. It wasn’t like he could fire me.

  He shook his head. “Our investigation, our decision, our responsibility.”

  He took a deep breath, then began pushing the table aside, clearing some space. “But if we’re going to do this, it’ll be done right the first time. Jenny? We need evidence boxes, at least two, probably three. I want every splinter accounted for when we’re done. Lord Dusk. You and Mister Mattis move the boxes somewhere safe. The drawers too. Wren? Help me shift this thing. We can move the desk away from everything else.”

  We scattered to obey.

  “Is there anything you need, Lord Dusk?”

  “Some ink,” I called over my shoulder as I grabbed the first box. “I don’t want the runes to smudge once they’re drawn. And if someone can set a barrier, please?”

  I had a very long way to go before Thea would even consider teaching me those— Wind was great for sudden bursts of power, but needed a lot of special handling if stability or durability was what you were after.

  “On it!” Locke called back. “Mine are stronger. There should be a spare ink bottle over there.” She jerked her chin toward the table. “Clarkson’s an uppity bastard. ‘Pens are for the tasteless,’” she mocked with a sneer.

  I began pushing stacks of papers aside, looking for it, while Asher and Wren positioned the desk in the middle of the cleared space. Locke immediately dropped to her knees and began tracing out a barrier circle in chalk around it.

  Wren dropped his end with a groan. “M’too old fer this shite,” he grumbled, rubbing his back. “Now what?”

  Asher strode to the table, picked up the evidence logbook off the top of the pile, and flipped it open to the last filled-in page.

  “Now,” he said, as he began to fill in a new line, “it’s all up to Lord Dusk.”

  Right.

  “Inspector Locke, please let me know when you’re done casting the barrier.”

  “Will do.”

  I strode to the desk and crouched in front of it, peering into the large opening beneath our secret compartment where the bottom-most drawer had been.

  Perfect.

  “Princess? What’re you doing? The spell’s up here.”

  “I don’t know why, but a spell and the object it’s enchanting don’t quite occupy the same space,” I replied as I opened the small ink bottle. “I’ll be able to work from down here. I need you to find that lock and figure out where to pop it open. We only have one shot, and we need to be fast.”

  “Gotcha.” He kneeled beside me as I squirmed inside.

  The opening was a tight fit, but I managed to get my shoulders inside with enough room to maneuver. I carefully dipped the dull stylus I’d also found into the ink and began to mark the ceiling.

  I let out a silent sigh of relief when the concealment spell didn’t react. This would have been much more difficult if I couldn’t see what I was doing.

  The spell on the lock had been simple: only a few moving parts with a single purpose. This one was a hundred different pieces, all linked together and moving with the precision of a Swiss watch. And all of them were potential failure points — there was no way I could reinforce them all. The best I could do was focus on the one piece that mattered most.

  I had a decent Runic lexicon memorized, but for this, I kept it simple. Finesse didn’t matter, just stabilizing the one point.

  Cael’s knee nudged my thigh. “Found it. You set down there?”

  “Almost.” I blew on the last rune to dry it faster before linking it up to the previous one, and critically examined my work. I’d probably gone overboard, but I didn’t feel like taking an explosion to the face.

  “Is Locke done?” I called back.

  “… Yup. We’re good.”

  “Right. On my mark.”

  I took a deep breath, placed my hand over the inky runes, and pushed a tiny spark of Fire into them.

  They flared, just for a heartbeat, and melted into the enchantment.

  “Go!” I yelled, and began scrambling out as fast as I could.

  There was a sharp crack above me. I scrambled faster.

  An arm wrapped around my waist and dragged me the rest of the way, hoisting me to my feet. With a grunt, Cael threw us across the barrier. We landed hard, with his body partially shielding mine. I covered my head with my arms and braced for the explosion.

  … Nothing happened.

  Ever so slowly, I raised my head and peeked beneath my elbow.

  The desk just sat there.

  Wren huffed loudly, slowly rising from behind a crate nearby. “S’a bit nothin’ ain’t it. Ye sure t’weren’t jest a du—!”

  The desk exploded.

  Wren threw himself to the ground beside me as bits of debris pinged off the barrier.

  “… Yes, Wren. I’m one thousand percent sure it wasn’t a dud.”

  He coughed. “Fair ‘nough.”

  Cael rolled off me, and I groaned. “Please. Tell me that wasn’t for nothing.”

  He smirked in reply, and held up a thin, tattered notebook and a large envelope.

  “Thank the gods.”

  A loud scream tore through the warehouse as Sam rounded a corner, a broadsword in each hand. She stopped short, her mouth agape as she caught sight of me. Cecil nearly slammed into her back, carrying a — good gods, where had he hidden that?! I was going to have to ask him for pointers.

  “I’m fine!” I called out, a little too loudly judging by Cecil’s wince. My ears were still ringing from the detonation. “Just a … small explosion. I’m not hurt.”

  I slowly staggered to my feet and wiped the dust from my clothes. White and pale grey might have been a mistake.

  The pair looked from me to the scattered, dusty bits of kindling littering the inside of the barrier, to the two dazed inspectors slowly rising from behind the table where they had taken cover.

  Sam scowled and seated herself on the nearest crate, glaring at me. The implication was clear: she wasn’t going anywhere.