My body was still trying to ward off tiny tremors of shock as Gavin led me through the lobby and into the cathedral. We slipped into a short pew at the back that butted up against one of the church’s soaring carved columns and sat down. I leaned my cheek against the cool stone pillar and tried to calm myself down. Having a nervous breakdown wasn’t going to help rescue Hunter or get an antidote to Jo. I needed to get a grip as quickly as possible so we could get moving again.
I tried not to think about the demons outside, although their screaming still rang in my ears. I searched my brain for something safe, something calm. I glanced at Gavin. Everything about him looked peaceful. How was that even possible? He’d just battled a demon, maybe two, and he looked fine. He looked better than fine; he looked wonderful. His hair, his cheeks, his lips . . . his lips! The kiss in the cab. I could still feel it on my lips. Why had he done it?
Obviously, he had kissed me to protect me, to keep me from screaming, to buy us extra time. But wouldn’t his hand over my mouth have worked just as well? It might not be a polite way to silence someone, but I was also pretty sure making out with human girls was not part of his job description. He had chosen to kiss me. I had to say something before I burst.
“So, what was that all about back there . . . in the cab?” I asked.
“You mean the demons?” He was staring straight ahead, eyes fixed on the front of the church. “Not to worry, I took care of them.”
“No, I mean the kiss.”
He whipped his head around to face me, his eyes flashing, as if he couldn’t believe I’d actually said the words out loud. A parade of emotions marched across his face: surprise, confusion, adoration, guilt. I clung desperately to the fleeting look of adoration, but as quickly as it came, it was gone. “Nothing. That was nothing,” he said.
I wasn’t giving up. “No, it was something.”
“Please respect the sanctity of St. Paul’s Cathedral by not speaking loudly,” a man with a formal-sounding English accent said. I looked around, but didn’t see anyone. “The use of photographic or video recording devices of any kind is strictly forbidden.” Gavin pointed at a small speaker embedded in the wall as the recorded message began to replay in French.
Then he shot me a new look, a look I remembered seeing during our encounter in the post office: it was commanding and cold. “Not here,” he whispered between clenched teeth. “Not now.” He stood up and walked down the main aisle.
It was my turn for a flood of confusion, sadness, self-pity, and heartbreak. Now that he finally had given in, did he regret it? Was I a terrible kisser? Did I repulse him? If so, he was a great actor, because he’d kissed me more than was necessary. It wasn’t a simple peck. It was a deep, probing, passionate kiss. Maybe he was scared to admit to himself what had happened, what might happen next . . .
I followed Gavin, but was determined not to look at him. I looked up instead, and I was instantly overwhelmed. Although I’d watched a grainy recording of Princess Diana’s 1982 wedding, it didn’t do justice to St. Paul’s Cathedral in person. The enormity of the open space felt like being inside a carved-out mountain so intricately decorated, it was hard to take in; every surface burst with engravings, paintings, and mosaics. Soaring marble arches decorated with cherubs nestled in sculpted leaves flanked the long aisle to the altar. Tiered golden chandeliers hung in the center of each archway, while thirty-foot black-iron candelabras rose protectively from the floor near each supporting column. While everything above the floor was gilded and magnificent, creamy white and shining gold, the floor itself, a stark black-and-white checkerboard pattern, threw me. It underscored the uncomfortable feeling that I was a pawn in a cosmic, deadly game of chess, which I supposed I was.
As gigantic as the cathedral was, it was equally as quiet. Even though visitors streamed in and out, they were all silent. Perhaps they took the audio instructions to heart, or perhaps, like me, the tremendousness of their surroundings left them dumbstruck.
The cathedral was cross-shaped, and we were at the bottom. We started up the longest aisle, the nave, scanning the seats for Hunter. At the intersection of the cross where the left and right transepts began, the ceiling opened up even more as we found ourselves standing under the cavernous Great Dome. Hunter was nowhere to be found.
“Let’s go check out the quire,” Gavin whispered, his lips brushing my ear. I shivered even though I wasn’t cold. Is he warming up to me again?
He took my hand and guided me around the pulpit and into the choir area behind it. On either side, the quire was lined with tiered wooden benches that faced each other. It reminded me more of an elaborate jury box than a place where young boys would sing. Gavin did a quick check to make sure Hunter wasn’t lounging on any of the cozy pews.
“Any idea where she might be?” he asked. I thought I saw something in his eyes, like he wanted to tell me something but couldn’t.
“Her phone died before she could say,” I replied. “I had no idea this place was so big.”
We visited the High Altar and the American Memorial Chapel in the Apse, and then circled the outer aisles of the church, peeking into dozens of small chapels and prayer rooms. I was especially interested in the Chapel of St. Michael, the archangel, and St. George, the Christian soldier who slayed a dragon, considering who I was with and what had happened on our way in. There was no sign of Hunter. As we looped back around the cathedral, having walked over a mile in the process, worry gnawed at me.
“What if she’s not here?” I asked Gavin.
“Nonsense,” he answered, his accent adding extra syllables to the word so it sounded like a song. “Where else would she be? We know from recent experience that there are demons outside quite on guard. She’d not have gotten far.”
“Exactly,” I said. “What if she didn’t think we’d come, went outside, and got . . . killed?” I could hardly say the word. I was afraid admitting the possibility might somehow jinx Hunter—and Jo.
“Not likely,” he said. “First, we’re not late. We’ve come when we said we would. Second, she knows better than to go outside. She’d not give up that easily. And third, if they had gotten her, I don’t believe the demons would be still prowling around, waiting.”
“I guess,” I agreed. “What do we do now?”
“I’m going to go back to the front door and grab a map,” he answered. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
As he walked away, I turned my attention to the alcove next to me. Unlike the others lined with white marble, this one was dominated by a towering doorframe painted shiny black. The double doors were guarded on either side by life-size alabaster angel statues, one holding a dark, bronze sword, the other a thin black horn. While most of the inscriptions in the cathedral were in Latin, the gold lettering etched into the lintel at the top were in English: “Through the gate of death we pass to our joyful resurrection.” I rubbed the backs of my arms. Thankfully, the doors were knob-less and sealed shut, but the statues’ expressions were anything but joyful. Their vacant eyes stared at the floor like all was lost.
I turned away and leaned against the curved wall to wait for Gavin, forcing my own face into an expression of confidence. I didn’t want to look lost.
“Are you lost?” I accepted my failure as a kind-looking elderly man with a black-and-white mustache and twinkling blue eyes appeared next to me. A large flashlight dangled from the belt of his security guard uniform. His name badge read “Alfred.”
“No, I’m not,” I said, embarrassed for no reason. “I am looking for someone though. A teenage girl by herself? Blonde hair, bangs?”
He squinted his eyes, as if trying to remember. I wondered how long that would take, and wished I’d never asked. Finally, he spoke. “You might try the library upstairs,” he answered slowly, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
“There’s an upstairs? And a library in here?” I asked.
“Of course,” the guard said with a chuckle. “And a downstairs too. We’ve got a museum, a movie theater, a shop, even a crypt with a café.”
You can eat with dead bodies? Creepy.
Alfred continued. “The library’s upstairs, east wing. I believe there’s a young girl who’s been sitting there for the better part of today.”
“Thank you so much,” I gushed, relieved that while he had tripled our search area, he’d also given us our first real lead.
He touched the tip of his hat, nodded, and walked away. When Gavin returned, I practically shouted the update.
With the map, we found the stairs to the library in no time. They were perfectly circular and rather dizzying. Gavin took the stairs two at a time; I tried my best not to fall on my face. Gavin’s hurry was frightening me. I wondered if he knew something I didn’t, something about what was going on back in Aviemore.
As soon as we passed through the doorway into the library, I spotted her. Hunter was sitting at a long wooden table, a book open in front of her. She was resting her head on her hand, and her eyes were shut. A holy nap, no doubt.
We hurried to the table and slid into chairs next to her. She immediately sensed the intrusion to her space, and her eyes shot open. When she saw me, she nearly knocked me off my seat with a sideways hug.
“Maren!” she cried, and was promptly greeted by several much louder “shhhs!” from a group of old ladies in colorful hats sitting on the opposite side.
Hunter dropped her head and voice. “Oh, Maren! You’re here! You’ve come for me! Thank you, thank you!” She wrapped herself around me like a love-starved snake and squeezed.
I patted her on the back, but wriggled out of her grip at the same time, uncomfortable from the display of gratitude. How am I going to tell her that the only thing we managed to do was barely make it into the cathedral and become as trapped as she was?
I leaned forward so Hunter and Gavin could shake hands and exchange introductions.
“Did you have any trouble getting in?” she asked. Worry spread across her face like a fast-moving fog.
“Only if you count being attacked by demons.” I tried to sound braver than I felt. “Don’t worry,” I added. “Gavin took care of them.”
“But there will be more,” Gavin added, ominously.
“What are we going to do?” Hunter’s eyes were wide and shiny.
“We’re going to take you to Magnificat with us,” I said. “It’s a safe haven. For humans working with the Abbey.”
She perked right up, clearly eager to leave her pew-filled prison, especially for the mysterious Abbey. “Well, let’s go, then!”
“It’s not that easy,” Gavin answered. “First, we have to locate it. The entrance to Magnificat changes, and I don’t know where it currently is in London.”
“How do we find it?” Hunter asked.
“It’s well marked. You should be able to see it for miles,” he assured us. “We’ve just got to get outside and take a look.”
“What do you mean, ‘outside’?” Hunter asked.
“What do you mean, ‘marked’?” I said. “By what?”
“By a giant spider,” he replied, smiling as Hunter and I both instinctively recoiled.