I blink a few times. I seem to be back in the basement laundromat, but some of the lights are flickering and others are completely out, making it hard to see. There’s a dark figure standing in front of me with his hands behind his back.

“Who…Who are you?” I instinctively scoot away a little.

A man steps out of the shadow. He’s tall and statuesque with wide-set shoulders. I estimate he’s about Appa’s age, but he’s less well-groomed—he has a mop of thick, unruly hair and an impressively bushy beard falling from his chin. He’s dressed in a full three-piece suit, and he’s even holding one of those old-school pocket watches attached to his vest by a chain.

As he slips the watch back into his front pocket, I steal a glance behind him. The winged horse isn’t on the washing machine anymore. This must be the Miru guard who took over the cheollima’s shift. I knew we were wasting too much time with those owls!

The man narrows his eyes as he takes me in. “I’m the one who should be asking you that question.”

I look for Emmett again, but he’s nowhere to be seen. The image of him falling to the ground like a rag doll plays back in my mind, and panic rises in my throat. “Where’s…Where’s my friend? What have you done to him?”

“He is unhurt. But I will not release him or you until you answer my question. You must be well aware that the gifted library is prohibited, and yet you ignored the rules and broke in. How did you get through security? And what reason do you have for this indiscretion?”

My heart is racing and, though I don’t want the council to put another X next to my name, I don’t respond. No way am I going to rat out the cheollima. It would be too hard to explain everything anyway, and I don’t trust this man’s word that Emmett is unhurt. The guy gassed us, for crying out loud.

The man frowns and continues. “For over ten years the sacred texts have been inaccessible without the Horangi. And yet somehow you were able to activate the library.” He holds up the copy of The Loyal Tales of the Haetae we’d found. “Are you working with the cursed clan?”

“No,” I quickly say, wincing at the allegation. “I’m not working with them. I was just—”

A glint of glass in his other hand catches my eye and the blood drains from my face. I grab at my neck—no cord necklace. “Hey, that’s mine—give it back!”

He opens his palm to reveal the vial containing Hattie’s bloody shrunken heart. “Tell me what this is.”