“What do you think Adam has planned?” Haven asked.
“We suspect he's building an army of sorts. Children's minds are easily warped, and the ones the magos has recruited are no ordinary souls. They all possess astounding abilities. We don't know how he plans to use the childrenâor how much damage they're capable of inflicting. But we do know that Adam's first recruits are starting to come of age now. And that's what frightens us.” She fixed her cool stare on Iain. “Now do you understand why we can't wait any longer to deal with the magos? Whatever he's doing at Halcyon Hall must be stopped.”
“I understand,” Iain said. “But I still don't know why you need to put Haven in danger. There must be another way to destroy the Ouroboros Society. I'll help you. I'll do whatever it takes.”
A flicker of annoyance lit the old woman's eyes. “Please forgive my candor, Mr. Morrow, but you've had your chance. We've been watching you too. We know you failed to destroy the Society when you were last in New York. What makes you think you might succeed this time?” she asked. “If I thought we could proceed without Haven, we would surely try. But I've watched one of my very own sisters be ruined by the magos. You, too, have seen firsthand what can happen to people who spend time in his presence. No one else can help us but Haven.”
Iain said nothing, but Haven could see he was far from convinced.
“And so,” Phoebe continued, “that is the deal I'm offering, Haven. You help us capture the magos, and I will help you locate your friend. Do you agree?”
“Yes,” Haven said. “I'll help you.”
Phoebe rose from her chair. “Then please follow me,” she said.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
They found themselves outside underneath the stars. The skylight in the roof glowed like amber. Phoebe led them around the glass, toward a water tower set on steel stilts in a dark corner of the building. She scaled a short ladder and opened a door cut into the side of the round wooden structure.
“This is where you give past-life readings?” Haven asked, her teeth chattering. If she'd known they'd be making a trip outdoors, she would have asked for her coat. When she reached the top of the ladder, she could see the vast city beneath her. Hundreds of water towers stood watch on the rooftops. How many were still filled with water, she wondered. And how many were used to store secrets?
“The closer we are to the heavens, the easier it is for the soul to travel,” Phoebe replied. She pointed up at the sky, where the stars gathered in predictable patterns.
The empty space inside the tower was twelve feet in diameter and carpeted with a mat made of woven straw. Burning embers in a stone hearth set into the floor lit the room. A wicker basket waited beside the fire. The heat in the small chamber wrapped around Haven and squeezed. Struggling to breathe, she hurried to peel off her heavy winter sweater.
Phoebe removed her shoes and floated down to the floor, where she perched on her heels like a seasoned geisha. The heat didn't appear to bother her any more than the cold had.
“Please, join me by the fire,” she said.
Haven and Iain sat cross-legged on the floor. Phoebe pulled a few twigs out of the wicker basket and tossed them onto the hearth. A wave of heat washed over Haven's face. Her eyes dried out, and she blinked furiously as a strong fragrance filled the room. It was a mixture of honeysuckle, Play-Doh, fresh-cut grass, sawdust, and the other scents of Haven's youth. Milky white smoke curled upward and disappeared through a hole in the domed ceiling above.
“Would you mind wearing one of these, Mr. Morrow?” Phoebe handed Iain a white surgical mask.
“You're burning the plants from your sunroom, aren't you?” Iain asked. “Isn't the smoke safe to breathe?”
“The mask is meant to block the fragrance. Scent and memory go hand in hand. The aromas released by the plants can summon memories buried deep in the past. You and I must remain here in the present while Haven travels back in time. But I assure you, there's no need to worry. I've been performing this ritual since the ancient Greeks perfected it.” Phoebe fitted an identical mask over her own nose and mouth. “Now,” Phoebe said, her voice muffled, “which lifetime will you be visiting today, Haven?”
“I would like to visit the life of Beatrice Vettori,” Haven said. “Her brother's name was Piero. They lived in Florence, Italy, in the middle of the fourteenth century. I need to go back to 1347 and see a friend of Piero's. His name was Naddo.”
“Did you know this Naddo well?”
“I don't think so,” Haven admitted. “I'm hoping I met him at least once.”
Phoebe's brow furrowed. “I'm afraid my gift has its limits. I can guide you to the right year and place. But I cannot show you a specific scene unless I witnessed it as well. It is difficult to locate a precise moment in time. It may take you several attempts before you find the young man you need to locate. And I can only allow you to visit the past for a few minutes each session. If you do not see what you want to see this evening, you will have to return to us in a couple of days.”
“Why can't I just stay in the fourteenth century until I get what I'm after?” Haven asked.
“Past-life regression strains the body and brain. If you stay too long, your mind could end up mired in the past. And your body in this life would die.”
“I had no idea this would be so risky,” Iain whispered to Haven. “Are you sure you're up for it?”
“I'm sure,” Haven said. “And I'm ready to start.”
“Then close your eyes,” Phoebe said.
Haven complied.
“Inhale deeply and concentrate on my voice. You are in the darkness, but your soul is traveling across time and space. You're searching for your brother. Let the fragrance carry you. Keep traveling backward, two hundred, three hundred, four hundred years. Every era has its own aromas. Every person has his own signature scent. Now you're approaching the fourteenth century. You can smell the air of Florence. . . .”
There's no way this is going to work,
Haven thought. All she could smell was something like dirt. Then she opened her eyes.
Â
SHE WAS LYING facedown. Her tears watered the soil as the cold crept through her velvet dress and seeped into her skin. He was resting deep beneath her, encased in the frozen ground. Beatrice lifted her head. It had only been a few months since she had buried his body here beneath the oak tree. The land around it had once been a beautiful field. Now it was a patchwork of freshly dug graves that extended as far as the eye could see. Half of Florence had come to keep Piero company.
Beatrice prayed to be among them soon. She deserved to suffer for the things she had done. But the pestilence had passed her by. She stayed with the sisters from the convent, watching from her window as Florence died all around her and trying not to think of the man she'd trapped deep underground. She left her room only twice a week, when she went to sit with her dead brother and beg for forgiveness.
Â
WHEN HAVEN WOKE, the sadness stayed with her. The Beatrice she'd seen had been barely alive. She had no faith left in anyone, not even herself. Everything she believed in had been destroyed, and everyone she loved had been taken away. Haven knew the vision should serve as a warning. She would share Beatrice's fate if anything were to happen to Beau.
“Well?” asked Phoebe.
“It was horrible.” Even in the heat of the room, Haven was shivering. “Piero was dead. My family was dead. Everyone was dead. I was scared and alone.”
“Did you see Naddo?” Iain asked eagerly. “Do you know anything that might help the police identify him in this life?”
“I didn't see anyone,” Haven said. “Beatrice was in a field that had been turned into a cemetery. I was lying on Piero's grave, begging him for forgiveness. For some reason, I felt responsible for his death.”
“Do you know why?” Phoebe probed.
“No,” Haven told her. “I didn't see how he died.”
“Then we will need to meet again,” the old woman stated. “In two days.”
“Two days!” Iain exclaimed. “How much longer is this going to take?”
“As long as it needs to take,” Phoebe said calmly. “Now let's discuss Haven's responsibilities.”
“Butâ” Haven started.
“I believe I've made it perfectly clear why we can't delay our plans,” Phoebe said. “I thought you would be anxious to get started as well. Every minute could mean the difference between life and death for your friend. And I'm certain you wouldn't want to feel responsible for what might happen to the children at the Ouroboros Society.”
“No! but . . .” Haven struggled to free herself from the quicksand of Phoebe's logic, but she was already in too deep.
“Well then, let's not waste any more time. First I must insist that you never return to this house on your own. We'll collect you every couple of days for a session. In time, you'll have the vision you need.” Phoebe paused for emphasis. “As long as you continue to do what you're told. Now are you ready to hear the plan?”
Haven sighed. “I'm listening.”
“Tomorrow morning, you will visit the Ouroboros Society and request to see Adam Rosier.”
“What?!” Iain rose to his knees and yanked off his mask. “You never said she had to
see
him!”
Phoebe calmly removed her own mask. “Allow me to finish, Mr. Morrow. Tomorrow Haven will visit the magos. She will ask for his help finding her friend. She will also allow him to provide her with lodging.”
“Why?” Haven asked as Iain seethed.
“Because you will need to stay very close to him in order to accomplish the second phase of your task. You must lower his defenses enough for us to strike.”
“How am I supposed to do
that
?” Haven asked.
“By pretending to fall in love with him.” Phoebe held up a bony finger, silencing any objections. “I'm aware that it may take some time to convince him. The magos is naturally very suspicious, and he knows he has enemies. But he also has great faith in his own powers of persuasion. Let him think that he's winning you over little by little. Then, when the moment is right, you will find an excuse to bring him to the first address you visited tonightâthe storefront on Lenox Avenue. There was a bank next door for many years. Its vault is still in the basement of the building, and we have prepared a cell for him there. ”
“No.” Iain wouldn't hear any more. “Absolutely not. There's
no
way I'm going to let this happen. Maybe you'll trap him for a few decades, but he'll know Haven was the one who betrayed him. What do you think Adam will do to her when he finally breaks free?”
Phoebe didn't demur. Like a diligent lawyer, she had come prepared with answers to every question. “If Haven does her part, there's no reason to believe that the magos will break free this time. My sisters and I own the buildings on Lenox Avenue. As soon as we give the word, they will both be torn down. The vault will be buried, and a modern apartment building will be erected on the site. There will be no way to get intoâor out ofâthe prison that will hold the magos.”
“We're talking about Adam,” Iain reminded her. “He'll find a way.”
“I knew you might object to my plan, Mr. Morrow. That's why I insisted you accompany Haven tonight. I want you to hear her make her choice. And may I remind youâit is
her
choice to make.”
“What if he locks you away again?” Iain asked Haven before setting his frustration and anger loose on Phoebe once more. “You have no idea what he's done to her in the past. He's imprisoned her for entire lifetimes! He has a cabinet filled with her bodies!”
“That may well be the case. But why would the magos harm Haven if he believes she's falling in love with him?” Phoebe countered, her voice still cool and rational. “And remember, all twelve Horae will be watching out for her. We managed to keep Haven safe the last time she was in New York, did we not?”
Iain fumed. “No,” he said. “Just no.”
“If Haven's safety is no longer in question, what is the source of your anxiety, Mr. Morrow?” Phoebe's question had an edge to it. “Surely you aren't worried that Haven might actually fall in love with the magos? I suppose he
does
have his charms.”
“That's ridiculous!” Haven blurted out. “Iain and I are meant to be together. I couldn't love anyone else if I tried!”
“Would you agree, Mr. Morrow?” Phoebe asked.
“My feelings are none of your business.” Iain glowered.
“Well, if what Haven says is true, then no oneânot even the magosâwill be able to come between you two. There should be no cause for concern . . . unless you have reason to question the strength of your bond. Is that the problem? I don't mean to be rude, Mr. Morrow. I'm merely trying to understand.”
“I've already made myself clear,” Iain said. “I don't have to explain anything to you.”
“That is true,” Phoebe acknowledged. “But I imagine you'll need to explain your objections to Haven.”
“Okay!” Haven broke in. “I know you're trying to be helpful, Phoebe, but you'll have to excuse us. Iain, may I speak to you alone?”
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THEY SAT ON the ledge that circled the roof. On the street below, a battered minivan sped through a traffic light, and three police cars gave chase while a helicopter kept watch from above. Its blue searchlight passed over the roofs of nearby buildings, catching lovers, delinquents, and drug dealers in action.
“We made a big mistake coming here,” Iain said once the cold air had tempered his rage. “The Horae don't have your best interests at heart. You're just a pawn. Phoebe will do whatever it takes to win her war against Adam. She won't hesitate to sacrifice you if she thinks it's necessary.”