Rafe flashed a slight smile. “I know the one you’re thinking of. It’s kind of a popular painting at Twyst. The original hangs in my uncle’s office in Founders Hall. It’s Bartholomew with three other men who have never been named.”
“So maybe Jonathan Marx, Douglas Wharton, Magnus Bellum?” Luke offered. “I’ve never heard of any of them—but I barely know Bartholomew’s name, no offense. He founded Twyst?”
“No offense taken,” Rafe said, his head tilted and his eyes unfocused. “And yes, he did. That painting, which is also unnamed, may contain information we need. We need to take a closer look at it.”
If we were looking at some painting, that’d mean we’d stop looking at the parchment page, with its map of places I didn’t want to go. New inspiration struck me with the urgency of a convict given a last reprieve. “Founders Hall? You need to get in there?”
Rafe nodded, turning to me. “We can’t use magic, though. Anyone who’s watching will be able to pick that up too quickly. After the stunt we pulled at the archive building, if they knew we were there, they’ll have an eye on Founders Hall. It’s the only other building that the agency or whoever, potentially has a piece of.”
I snorted. “I don’t need magic to get into Founders Hall. I’m a janitor. I’ve got an all-access pass to anywhere on this campus that might one day need to be cleaned—a custodial master key. I’ve never had to get into Founders Hall, but unless they changed the locks, my key will get me in.”
Connor grinned. “Then let’s go clean out Founders Hall.”
4
The trek across campus took us less than fifteen minutes, even walking slow so as to appear casual. Though it was now past midnight, it was a gorgeous warm evening in late September, and it seemed like fully half the campus was out and about, stealing all the joy they could from the warm weather before fall finally took hold. Boston in the winter was not for the faint of heart, but Boston in autumn was about as close to heaven as you could get this side of a halo.
We stopped off at my residence hall, where I retrieved the custodial key I’d hidden in one of the puffy decorative bathroom items whose purpose I still hadn’t figured out. It was a legitimate skeleton key, not a passcode card of any kind, and I wasn’t entirely sure that it would work to get me into Founders Hall. Nevertheless, it was worth a shot.
I was heading downstairs to the front door when a familiar face waved to me from the reception desk. Amy Sears, the resident assistant of my dorm. She beamed at me, flipping a rich crimson braid over her shoulder. She wore her usual Twyst uniform—or at least the top of it, since she was sitting at the counter. But her dark green twinset sweater perfectly set off her hair and sparkling blue eyes, and I found myself smiling back at her.
“Hey!” she said. “You’re heading out late. You and the guys up to no good?”
She spoke easily, but I felt a strange quiver in the soup of raw magic sloshing around my stomach. How well did I really know Amy anyway? Connor had introduced us, and she was apparently dating his older brother, but he and I hadn’t really discussed it much. Amy had been nothing but kind to me, but it did seem like she was everywhere at once. I was probably being paranoid, but I guess I’d earned that right.
“Yeah, we’re doing some more training before we launch into the fourth level of the Mage Trials,” I said, figuring that sounded reasonable enough.
She nodded, all wide-eyed and earnest. “I heard you guys put on quite a show in level three—and that the advisory panel is still pissed at you for not doing something for them.” She waved her hand vaguely.
I didn’t take the bait. “Oh yeah? Where did you hear that?”
She laughed and shrugged. “You work as a resident assistant for long enough, there’s no end to what students will tell you. And believe me, I could be totally wrong. I think this was overheard by somebody who was working in one of the admin offices where the advisory panel meets. I’d hate for you guys to not get into level four because the advisory panel was angry with you, though. So I hope it’s not true.”
“Yeah, me too,” I said guilelessly. “Last we spoke to them, they didn’t seem to have a problem with us, but thanks for the heads-up.”
“Absolutely,” she said, smiling brightly. “You haven’t done anything to make them mad, have you?”
“Not that I can think of,” I said, frowning with all the earnestness I could muster. “But I’ll see if maybe the guys know something I don’t.”
“Oh, no, no,” she said hurriedly. “I don’t want them to get worried or anything. Like I said, it was probably just useless gossip, nothing to be worried about. I’m glad everything’s going well.”
“Okay,” I said, trying to keep my expression steady. “If it’s just gossip, I won’t spread it. Thanks for clueing me in, though. You never know who might be out—”
I cut myself off this time, realizing that I was about to tip my hand. Amy, however, leaned forward. “Out?” she asked “Out where? What do you mean?”
It was everything I could do not to snap at her. She seemed too eager to engage with me, too obvious. So obvious that she couldn’t possibly have ulterior motives, right? Or was that dim-witted thinking on my part?
“Oh, you know,” I said, waving vaguely toward the campus center. “Out there. There are three other teams that want a piece of us, at a minimum. We can’t trust anyone.”
“Oh! Yes. That’s for sure,” she said, nodding. “It sort of sucks, but that’s the way it is. You can’t be too careful. If you ever run into anybody you think is being hinky, though, let me know. I’ve been watching students go through the Mage Trials for five years now. I’ve gotten really good at identifying legitimate threats versus nuisance characters. You get some of both every year, I guarantee it.”
Once again, the offer was made with impressive sincerity, and I wavered in my resolve to include Amy in those people I shouldn’t trust on campus. That group included pretty much everybody except the guys and Dr. Anderson, our group’s unofficial mentor. Plus, it was kind of nice to have another girl in my corner. All I really had up to this point was Cynthia Gallagher, and she was pitted against us on another team—and was also Rafe’s ex-girlfriend. So in the category of girls most likely for me to trust, she wasn’t ranking very high.
I gave Amy a smile. “Hey—thanks,” I said. “I mean it. I may take you up on that.”
“Do that,” she said before lifting a hand to wave goodbye. Then she started. “Oh! I almost forgot, you’ve actually gotten mail.”
I blinked at her. “I have?”
“Well, don’t get too excited.” She laughed. “I mean, it’s lame mail, just a catalog for college uniforms that I totally threw away, but it’s official. The post office knows you live here. That makes you a Twystie.”
“Ah…” I didn’t know exactly what to say, but Amy was already shooing me on.
“Go on, go on, before I have all four guys piling into my dorm, demanding that I produce you because you’ve taken too long. And be careful! It’s late.”