Page 73 of Harnessed in Gold

Leo crouches by the first bush and holds out a hand, face up. When he curls his fingers into his palm, the branches bend away from the wall like a row of dancers taking bows.

“See anything?” he asks, peering into the space he’s made between the bush and the wall.

“Grates, but no windows,” I say.

Aaron concurs. “It’s probably a crawl space, but let’s keep looking.”

The ground slopes gently downward the further along the wall we go, suggesting the possibility of a cellar. So we inch along, Leo coaxing the branches out of the way, and all of us peeking behind them.

With each bush, Leo performs a little ritual, brushing light fingers over its needles and murmuring a soft “thank you” once it’s returned to its original position. Intrigued, I join in, meeting Leo’s smile with an unapologetic shrug.

Around the back corner, we converge with the rest of our cohort.

“Nothing but grates,” Aaron tells them.

“Same here,” Avery reports. “But we need Leo to move a holly bush.”

We follow her around the other side to check behind the holly, but all we find is a stonefoundation.

As Leo reaches out to urge the bush back into place, he pauses and looks over his shoulder at me. “Want to help?”

I nod, my heart knocking about my chest like a captive moth. He urges me in front of him and invites me to lay my hand, palm up, on top of his.

“Won’t I mess it up?”

“I don’t see how,” he says, his breath tickling the shell of my ear.

I settle against him as he encloses my hand in his fist. It feels too good, too natural, to nestle my head under his chin. I suck in a breath and pray we’re not being watched.

Energy prickles in my palm, startling me and causing me to briefly pull away.

“You’re okay,” he insists.

I let him take my hand again, folding it into his.

“I pull in the energy like this,” he says, squeezing my fist. “Then I let it go.” He opens our hands and releases a surge of warm vibrations. The holly branches stretch like a cat waking from a nap, then settle back into place against the stone wall.

After we give them a caress and whisper our thanks, I look up at Leo and smile. “Thank you, too.” I’m tingling all over, yet completely relaxed. I just had a silent conversation with a plant. Well, Leo did, but it felt like I was listening in on the line.

An “ahem” snaps me out of my daze.

I whip around to shoot Rime a death stare—Leo and I weren’t doing anything. We were focused on the mission—but it’s Avery’s eyes I meet. And she’s smirking.

Meanwhile, Topaz and Rime are deep in conversation, their backs to us.

I’m pretty sure Avery just spared Leo and me a lecture.

Aaron, who was intently studying the sidewalk a second ago, breaks the silence, “Is it possible this chapelisn’tbuilt on the old seminary church?”

“Anything is possible,” Leo admits, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and gazing up at the chapel’s steep roof. “The recordsare pretty scanty. Reverend Stone’s journals are our best source, and he had a tendency to use a lot of vague, metaphorical language.”

Yeah, like calling a haunted forge an “ungodly place.”

I fold my arms and bounce on my toes, trying to ward off the chill. “So what now?”

Topaz issues the orders, “Everywhere we go we look for that window.”

“Make note of any plants in the way,” Leo tells us. “And I’ll get to you as soon as I can to help.”