Sealed Circuits

Lilah · Chapter 4 of 6 · 8-minute read

The lead campus officer closed the distance to the sealed vault. His voice dropped a register as he watched his authority slip away piece by piece. “Fine. Who else has access to this room?”

Charlie’s hand shot up like he was volunteering for extra credit. “Lilah does. She has her badge and access code.”

Thanks for nothing, Charlie.

Every eye in the room fixed on me. The officer’s gaze locked on me. I could see him strategizing his next move.

“You.” He jabbed a finger at me. “Get up. Open that door.”

Feigning confusion, I squinted around the room. “Who? Me?”

“Yes, you!” His collar seemed to shrink a size.

I pushed myself off the floor and brushed dust from my black pants. The red marks on my fingers from breaking Charlie’s card still throbbed. I wasn’t eager to try that trick again. My hands remained steady as I discreetly reached inside my collar. I retrieved my access card and lanyard from where I’d tucked them earlier.

“Happy to help,” I oozed. I approached the vault’s control panel and swiped the card with deliberate slowness. Too fast meant it wouldn’t register, but sometimes too slow set off an alert. Not today, though.

A red light on the keypad flashed steadily, waiting for me to enter my personal code. I stared at it with what I hoped looked like genuine confusion.

“You need to enter your access code,” Charlie mansplained. His tone carried that particular note of condescension he’d developed lately. “The system requires both the badge swipe and the personal numerical code for authentication.”

I rotated the card between my fingers. I studied it as if I’d never seen it before. “You know, I honestly can’t remember what I set it to. It’s been months since I had to use this thing.”

The officer took one step closer. “Try.”

I shrugged and punched in 0000. The red light beeped insistently and went solid for ten seconds before returning to its patient blinking.

The room fell dead silent. Even Jakin had set down his book to watch. The people in this room who knew me weren’t worried I’d betray them. They all knew I could turn malicious compliance into an art form.

The people who didn’t know me seemed to think I was defeated. One in particular.

That strange current of satisfaction grew stronger. Someone here didn’t belong, and they were pleased with what they’d set in motion.

“Hmm. Not that one.” I tried 9999. Another error beep. Another solid red light. Another ten-second wait.

“Stop being a smart-ass and open the damn door,” the officer snapped.

“I’m trying.” I edged my tone just enough to be heard. “But security protocols mean three strikes, and you’re permanently locked out until the system resets. Are you really sure you want me to guess?”

The officer’s face transformed from flushed to apoplectic. “I don’t give a damn about security protocols—”

Deanna gasped like she’d never heard blasphemy.

“You should give a damn,” I interrupted, then quoted straight from the handbook. “‘Security is everyone’s responsibility.’ Didn’t you see the poster on the employee bulletin board in the break room?” I punched in 1234 and watched the red light beep one final time before going dark. “Because if I get locked out, nobody’s getting through that door without a system reset. And that’s above my pay grade.” I waved my access card back and forth over the card reader, but this time, nothing blinked, nothing chirped.

“Stop playing games!” His voice ricocheted off the walls, sharp enough to make Samantha flinch behind me.

Charlie’s gaze darted around the room. It paused briefly on Raven before snapping back to safer ground. When it came to the two of them, Charlie already knew who the better man was, and he knew better than to call Raven out.

“Professor Saint Augustine has access, too. She can reset the system.”

“Professor.” The officer whirled toward Dru. His patience had finally evaporated. “Open it. Now.”

Deanna started to argue, but the man simply raised his eyebrows and pointed at her to be quiet.

Beside me, Raven’s energy spiked — a controlled fury I rarely felt from him this close. I didn’t need empathic abilities to know he had already calculated distances, weighed a half-dozen courses of action, prepared to physically remove the officer from Dru if necessary.

Veronica’s hand found his wrist. She touched him lightly but insistently. Both froze. Their attention locked not on the officer but on the vault door itself. Something built between them as priestess and priest, a tension completely separate from the human drama unfolding.

Whatever they’re attempting, they need more time.

Dru approached the control panel unhurriedly, but it bought her only seconds, not the minutes Raven and Veronica needed. “Of course. Anything to resolve this situation.”

“What did you say?”

Dru didn’t answer or repeat herself, so I decided to help him out.

“She said, ‘Anything to resolve this situation.’”

The officer’s eyes snapped to me. “Next one to sass me gets cuffed. I don’t care who you report to—”

Dru swiped her card. The panel flickered to life with a red light blinking steadily as it waited for her personal access code.

The officer hunched forward. His focus narrowed as Dru’s fingers hovered over the keypad. He appeared completely absorbed, waiting for the moment the vault would finally open.

Which was exactly what Dru had counted on.

Her fingers traveled across the keypad in a pattern that looked like a standard access code but felt wrong somehow. Too many numbers. Too deliberate.

The building went dark.

Emergency power activated a heartbeat later. Red backup lighting bathed everything in a crimson glow. One of the German Shepherds whined low in its throat as its hackles rose at the sudden shift. Its handler tightened the leash but remained silent. The damage was done. The vault sealed completely. Its electronic locks engaged with a series of soft clicks that sounded unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet.

Gate 1’s main door had locked as well. We were all trapped together in the crimson twilight. The normal world suddenly felt very far away.

“What the hell did you do?” The officer’s voice boomed too loud in the red-lit quiet.

“I entered my access code,” Dru replied calmly. “The system must have detected an irregularity and initiated automatic lockdown protocols.”

Raven’s fury transformed into something more focused, more dangerous. Beside him, Veronica’s energy hummed with readiness. Whatever they’d prepared, the power failure had bought them the cover they needed.

Let’s hope they know what they’re doing.

The EHS officer pulled out his radio, but static filled the air instead of clear communication. “Campus control, this is Tenneson. We have a power failure in Special Collections. Requesting—” More static followed.

“Emergency lockdown affects all communications equipment,” Dru explained helpfully. “Security protocol.”

In the eerie, red-lit quiet that followed, Deanna studied the room. She’d probably witnessed enough administrative disasters to recognize another one brewing. I knew she’d back down long before Dru would.

Deanna extracted her phone and frowned at the dead screen. Dru’s gaze settled on the phone, and I felt her irritation spike. Phones were strictly prohibited in Gate 1, but with a dozen unbadged authorities already contaminating the space and likely all of them with phones, fitness trackers, and other forbidden electronics, Dru just sighed heavily.

“Professor, I’m going to the generator room to sort this out before the Chancellor arrives and finds us all sitting in the dark like children.”

Her gaze swept across the scattered group. It settled on Jakin. He sat apart from the rest of us, back against a desk, apparently absorbed in a slim volume he’d produced from somewhere. The emergency lighting carved harsh shadows across his face and amplified his dangerous aura.

“Samantha,” Deanna barked. “You’re coming with me.”

“I’m staying here.” Samantha rooted herself near Dru.

“That wasn’t a request.” She was worried about Samantha being so close to Jakin, given their history. Given mine with him, too.

Can’t say I blame her.

“Someone has to make sure he doesn’t help anymore.” Samantha’s glare pierced through Charlie. He had the grace to look ashamed.

Deanna’s mouth compressed into a thin line, but she was too pragmatic to waste time arguing. “Fine. But stay away from Crutchfield.” She launched a warning look at Jakin.

He didn’t even glance up from his book. He no longer had a need for Samantha. For anything.

The main door’s emergency unlock system engaged with a soft beep. Deanna vanished down the hall with the flat determination of someone who’d fix it, even if it killed us. Dru’s resignation hit me — the quiet, beaten quality I’d never felt from her before. She’d just orchestrated a power failure to keep the authorities out of the vault, and now Deanna would undo it all. A few seconds later, the outer door buzzed as someone else sought entry to Gate 1. Voices echoed in the corridor, official and urgent.

More complications we don’t need.

One of the facilities workers drifted to a bookshelf and reached for a slim volume bound in pale leather.

“Put that down,” Dru commanded sharply. “Please.”

The man jerked his head up, startled. “I was just—”

“I know what you were just doing. That’s how books disappear.” She was careful not to mention that the book had been bound centuries ago in human skin. “And that particular volume might follow you home. The energies attached to it have a tendency to keep people awake.”

The worker hastily replaced the book. He wiped his hands on his pants as if he could brush away whatever woo-woo he might have picked up.

With Deanna gone and the officials distracted by radio static and failing communication, Veronica and Raven subtly repositioned themselves. They remained on the floor where they’d been ordered to sit, but now they faced each other cross-legged, their knees touching. Veronica clasped Raven’s hands. Their fingers interlaced; I could feel an energetic connection forming. It looked like they were meditating, but instead, they were creating a type of magical current between them.

To anyone watching, they might have appeared to offer each other comfort during the crisis. But I detected the faint shimmer beginning to form around them, like heat waves rising from summer asphalt. I doubted anyone without magical gifts would notice it at all. The nearest dog noticed, though—ears pricked, a soft growl vibrated through its chest. The handler whispered something calming, but his knuckles whitened on the leash.

Their concentration flowed intense but silent. No dramatic gestures, no whispered incantations. Just the quiet focus of two practitioners working in harmony.

The hair on my arms stood up. The shimmer strengthened momentarily and then outward in a protective circle.

Then it wavered and collapsed.

The Walking Lightning rune at Raven’s wrist warmed under his sleeve, but he didn’t change positions. They tried again. Their joined hands trembled slightly with effort. Not that any of our uninvited guests could tell, but the shimmer returned. More substantial this time, but still fragile. Still insufficient.

It collapsed again.

“We’re not strong enough,” Veronica whispered. Her voice dropped so low I strained to hear her. “The High Priest who built these magical protections was more powerful than both of us combined. We’re not getting anywhere.”

She squeezed Raven’s hands tighter. Her voice fell even further. “We need more juice. Another priestess or priest.”

I turned and looked over my shoulder at Jakin.

He hadn’t moved, but he watched now, more alert than before. And I suddenly understood what Raven and Veronica hadn’t said aloud.

They needed him.

And he knew it.

← Chapter 3: Pulse of Control Chapter 5: Illusion of Power →

You’re reading The Playbook for Settling Scores free, right here in the Library. Want a copy to keep on your Kindle or e-reader? Buy the e-book direct from me →