“Which services?”
“You tell me, Stern.”
“Well, they specialize in logomancy, word magic. So something with a contract?”
“The purchase of Sachem’s Wood in 1910. It was a huge acquisition of land and the university wanted to make sure the purchase could never be challenged. That land became
Science Hill. What else?”
“People don’t take them very seriously.”
“People?”
“Lethe,” she amended. “The other societies. Because they don’t have a real tomb.”
“But we’re not like those people, Stern. We aren’t snobs.”
“You are most definitely a snob, Darlington.”
“Well, I’m not that particular kind of snob. We have only two real concerns: Does their
magic work and is it dangerous?”
“Does it?” asked Alex. “Is it?”
“The answer to both questions is sometimes. Aurelian specializes in unbreakable
contracts, binding vows, stories that can literally put the reader to sleep. In 1989 a certain millionaire slipped into a coma in the cabin of his yacht. A copy of God and Man at Yale
was found beside him, and if anyone had thought to look they would have found an introduction that exists in no other version—one composed by Aurelian. You may also be
interested to know that Winston Churchill’s last words were ‘I’m bored with it all.’ ”
“You’re saying Aurelian assassinated Winston Churchill?”
“That’s mere speculation. But I can confirm that half of the dead in Grove Street Cemetery only stay in their graves because the inscriptions on their tombstones were crafted by members of Aurelian.”
“Sounds pretty powerful to me.”
“That was the old magic, when they were still considered a landed society. Aurelian was kicked out of their rooms when union contract negotiations with the university
soured. The charge was serving alcohol to minors, but the fact is that Yale felt Aurelian had botched the initial contracts. They lost Room 405 and their work has been shaky ever
since. These days, they mostly manage the occasional nondisclosure agreement or
inspiration spell. That’s what we’ll be seeing tonight.”
They passed the administrative offices of Woodbridge Hall and the glowing golden
screens of Scroll and Key. The Locksmiths had canceled their next ritual. It wouldn’t mean any less work for Lethe—Book and Snake had been happy to move into the
Thursday night slot in their place—but Darlington wondered exactly what was going on at
Keys. There had been rumors of weakening magic, portals that malfunctioned or didn’t open at all. It might all be talk—the Houses of the Veil were secretive, competitive, and
prone to petty gossip. But Darlington would take the delay as an opportunity to dig into
what Scroll and Key might be contending with before he dragged his Dante into a possible
mess.
“If Aurelian isn’t dangerous, why do we need to be there?” Alex asked.
“To keep the proceedings from being interrupted. This particular ritual tends to draw a
lot of Grays.”
“Why?”
“All of the blood.” Alex’s steps slowed. “Please don’t tell me you’re squeamish. You
won’t make it through a semester if you can’t handle a bit of gore.”
Darlington immediately felt like an ass. After what Alex had survived back in
California, of course she’d be wary. This girl had witnessed real trauma, not the theater of
the macabre to which Darlington had become so accustomed.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, but she was gripping the strap of her satchel with clenched fists.
They entered the stark plateau of Beinecke Plaza, the library’s windows glowing like chunks of amber.
“You will be,” he promised. “This is a controlled environment and a simple spell.
We’re basically just serving as bouncers tonight.”
“Okay.”
She didn’t look okay.
They pushed through the library’s revolving door and into the high vault of the entry.
Gordon Bunshaft had envisioned the library as a box within a box. Behind the empty security desk a vast glass wall rose to the ceiling, packed with shelves of books. This was
the real library, the stacks, the paper-and-parchment heart of Beinecke, the outer structure