Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Royal. Two blocks south.”
She marked it. They worked through the remaining three together, Delphine plotting while Bastien called out locations. When she connected the points with straight lines, both of them went still.
A perfect pentagon.
“Five-point anchor.” Bastien studied the shape. “Energy distribution. If one node goes down—”
“The others compensate.” Delphine stared at the map. “But is that normal? For one family to own properties in such a specific geometric pattern?”
He chose his words carefully. “It could be coincidence. Wealthy families often held multiple properties in the Quarter. But the precision suggests intentional planning.”
“Let me check acquisition dates.” She grabbed the ledgers again, flipping pages. “All purchased between July 1760 and March 1762. Two-year span.” She looked up. “That’s not random.”
“No. It’s not.” He pulled a ruler from the supply drawer, began measuring distances on the map. “Equidistant from Jackson Square. Within a block’s margin of error.”
Her analytical excitement was visible in the way she leaned forward, tapping her pen against her teeth. “Investment strategy? They bought on the perimeter of some central point?”
“Jackson Square used to be Place d’Armes,” Bastien said, still measuring. “Military drill ground. Before that?”
“Before that . . .” She pulled out another reference book, flipped pages. “Drainage land. Considered spiritually neutral by local practitioners according to this.” She read aloud, “‘Neither blessed nor cursed ground, making it suitable for work requiring balance.’“
Her eyes lit up. “Perfect foundation for ritual work.”
She was too good at this. Too close to understanding. And he couldn’t stop her without revealing why he needed her to stop. Their eyes met over the map.
“You already knew this would be here, didn’t you?”
“I suspected.” He held her gaze. “You proved it.”
Late afternoon light slanted through the windows at a steeper angle now. The Archive had grown quieter as other staff left for the day, leaving just the fan’s hum and distant traffic sounds filtering through old glass.
Delphine leaned closer to examine the angles, tracing lines with her finger. Her shoulder pressed against his. “These aren’t random proportions. Look at the ratios.”
He did look, but he was also aware of her nearness. The scent of her shampoo—something floral and clean. The warmth radiating from her bare arm three inches from his. Neither of them moved.
She traced a line from one point to another. “Sacred geometry. Golden mean. This is cathedral-level precision.”
They both reached for the same ledger. His hand pulled back.
“Could you mark the central point?” she asked.
“Already done.” He tapped the map with his pen where Jackson Square sat.
She leaned even closer to see, her shoulder pressing firmly against his for three full seconds. Dust motes hung suspended in the light. Traffic sounds faded. The specific hush of an archive at closing time wrapped around them.
The air settled. In the glass display case across the room, reflections steadied—no lag, no distortion. The effect radiated outward from where they sat. Mirror Anchoring. Her presence calmed the corruption again.
Delphine straightened suddenly, breaking contact. “I should make copies of these before we go.”
“Good idea.” Relief and disappointment in equal measure.
He watched her walk to the copy machine in the corner and caught his reflection in the window beside him. His face looked raw, unguarded. He smoothed the expression before she turned around, but not before noticing how the reflection had shown him what he worked so hard to hide.
The copy machine hummed. Delphine returned with documents, started packing up research materials. A glass document case sat between them on the table, and when she reached to close a ledger, her reflection appeared in its surface.
Bastien glanced at his own reflection out of habit—checking for lag, the constant monitoring that had become second nature. But instead of seeing distortion, he caught sight of her reflection meeting his in the glass.
Their reflected eyes locked.
Her reflection synchronized perfectly with her movement—unusual given the general mirror contamination across the Quarter. His reflection also synced when looking at her reflection. A moment of perfect stillness: both real and reflected, all four images frozen.
Delphine went still. “Did you see that?”
“See what?”
“The glass. It felt . . .” She touched the case’s surface. “Like it was paying attention.”
“Probably just the light.” But internally he knew. The glass recognized us. Together. Recognized her stabilizing effect on resonance. Recognized me recognizing her. The mirrors were learning relationships, not just individuals.
She shook it off. “Long day. Ready to get out of here?”
“After you.”
They walked out together. He stole glances at their reflections in every window they passed—the entrance doors, the display cases in the corridor, the glass partition by the stairs. Each reflection showed them in perfect sync. No lag, no distortion.
Gideon’s network had just confirmed what he’d tried to hide. Delphine wasn’t just an anchor. She was his anchor. And now the mirrors knew it.
“So.” Delphine pulled out her phone to check the time. “We should check these addresses tomorrow. See if the sites still hold whatever Charlotte put there.”