There is that smell, wet earth and decay. He’s brought me to the catacombs. Maxine said there were entrances all over the city, that the tunnels crisscross underground for miles. The duke’s cellar was one entry point; this cathedral must be another. It makes sense that this is where the bodies are being disposed of. They can bring them up from the tunnels undetected and disappear back underground.

“Absolutely not,” I say.

“We have to,” Finn says.

“It’s too dark down there. I don’t trust you. We don’t even have the key.”

He pats his chest over the same breast pocket where he just had the note and says, “But I do have the key.”

We’d locked it up in Maxine’s room, which means…

“You stole it?”

He raises his brows. “Can you steal something that was already stolen?”

I throw my hands up in frustration. “Yes!” Behind the fury is something more unsettling, disappointment and shock at being betrayed like this. I should have known better.

I recognize the look of frustration on his face so well. Finn wishes I was comfortable with lying and scheming like he is. “Please,” he whispers. “We may not have another chance like this.”

“How do you know?” He knows what I’m really asking: What else are you keeping from me?

There are footsteps from the hall; they’re getting closer. “It has to be now,” he insists.

“But why? We don’t even know how to close it,” I say. We have the key and we know where the veil is, but there’s a massive missing gap of information.

Finn is undeterred. “The Brothers of Morte d’Arthur could seal off this entrance at any moment. Or I could be killed. You were there when the Sons of Saint Druon shot me. What if they don’t miss next time?”

There are too many unknowns and what-ifs. It doesn’t make sense.

The nun’s wide doe eyes flit between the entrance to the room and us.

I hate this, that I am once again in a situation where Finn has left me with no choice.

Finn takes one step into the dark.

I ball my hands into fists at my sides, steel myself, and step in after him.

I don’t have time to turn around before the door is shut behind us. It slams heavily, like it’s made of steel. The darkness swallows us like a physical object. I can no longer see Finn. The primal part of me wants to reach out to feel for him, but I don’t know if I’d be able to resist the urge to shove him down the stairs.