Please let this work. Please let this work. Please let this work.

The locks snap free. The door creaks on its hinges as I scurry inside. Suddenly, the room floods with light, and I press back against the door as the smaze drifts around the perimeter of the room.

The office is empty. Just motion sensors. I release a held breath.

Sitting on top of the huge ironwood desk, propped between the spines of a few leather-bound books, is an orb.

Gaia’s magic casts a warm glow over the wood. As I approach the desk, a soft hum penetrates the glass. Tiny sparks hover like fireflies inside it, drifting up to meet my fingers when they graze the lid.

The plant from Doug’s suite rests in its broken pot beside it. Its long stems lean toward Gaia’s light. One bright, waxy leaf seems to be caught on something. I untangle it, gasping as I pull a loop of red satin free of the vine and a small silver angel comes away with it.

I hold the tarnished ornament out in front of me, the inscription on the back becoming visible as it spins.

This is my angel. The one I left for Jack in the woods.

A footlocker lies open beside the desk, loaded with ornaments. Twenty-nine of them . . . a number I know without having to count. I withdraw a tiny snow globe. Cherry blossoms drift around the tree inside.

“How did these get here?” I murmur through a shaky breath.

“I could ask the same about you.”

I spin toward the door, clutching the snow globe in my fist. Doug looks smug as the door closes behind him. He rests the staff against the wall. It’s the first time I’ve seen him carry it. It’s exactly the way I remember it, cold and glittering sharp, with the exception of the strange black sash around its head.

He steps closer, blocking my view of it as he strips off a pair of gloves. “I spent all night looking for you.”

“Isn’t that a little hyperbolic? I only left your room a few hours ago.”

“Oh, that’s funny,” he says, shaking his head and dropping his gloves on the desk. His hair’s matted to his forehead with sweat. There’s a streak of dirt on his cheek and cavern filth on his dress shoes. A trickle of dried blood trails over his lip. “Nice trick, using the exhaust from the generators to mask your scent.” My hand clenches around the snow globe as he stalks closer. I move away from the desk, but he only backs me deeper into his office. “It was dumb luck when I caught you coming up the back stairs to the gallery.”

“You followed me here?” How? I’d been so careful. I was sure no one was behind me as I followed the smaze.