Whatever It Takes {Two | Alaric Saltzman}

You Made a Choice to Be Good

Abigail entered the Armory in a daze. She'd scrubbed herself clean with baby wipes, patched up her knuckles with a few small Band-Aids, changed into the outfit she had taken to storing in the trunk, and left her dress and her grandfather's jacket in the passenger seat of her car. But it was stuck to her, the evening, and she had not made it home for dinner.

"There's different styles of handwriting indicating some sort of back and forth between two people in secret. The messages are meaningless. Even with this." Dorian read out lines in Harvey's journal with the cardan grille, "'Today was a cold day. The crops are bountiful.' It's like there's a code inside the code."

"Well, if anyone can figure it out, my money's on you." The open journal and artifacts on the table, the binders and notebooks, the way she felt, they all brought forth one question, "How'd you pick this, Dorian? Occult studies? I think my reasons are a little obvious..."

"Kind of because of my family. For generations, we thought we were cursed. Bankruptcy, depression, health problems. You name it, we dealt with it. My parents were the first to break the mold. Great marriage, successful careers, two good kids. And then my, um..." She closed her eyes because she knew what he was going to say, she knew exactly what he was going to say, "My dad and my little sister died. It was like we were cursed all over again."

"Dorian..."

"I hid at the library to cope. I just wanted to find some sort of proof that they were at peace. And then one day I had the strangest dream." The way his tone was swapped for another brought her eyes back to his. "I was playing baseball, center field, like I did in high school. My sister was in the stands. She was wearing this ugly Christmas sweater I always teased her about. She smiled, and she waved at me. And I knew it was somehow okay. And then, of course, I wanted to know what it all meant. You know, how was it possible I felt her spirit? What other supernatural or mystical forces there were in the world. Hence, occult studies."

"Anything, uh..." She noticed the blood on her shoes, so, before he could, she asked, "Decode anything?"

He shrugged. "I mean, it's weird. This last message is in a completely different language."

"What's it say?"

"I have no clue. It's kind of like Latin, also kind of Gothic, maybe some old Prussian. I'll get some stuff from the campus library." Dorian passed her the journal. "Oh, I almost forgot. I was geeking out with the historical society today, and, uh, they found another Maxwell heirloom in the capsule. A necklace. I gave it to Matt."

"You should, uh, go home. Get some sleep. Work on all this tomorrow."

"I'll sleep when I'm dead, which will eventually happen because I'm human. I intend to stay that way if I can help it."

She tried to smile at him. "Where's Alaric? He, uh, I tried to call him when I got here and he didn't answer?"

"He's upstairs." Concern, that was the closest thing she could place his expression to. "The girls were, in his words, having a hard night."

She found Alaric's side with frantic motions, putting her mind further from her body. It must have been broken, the way she told him about what happened at the lake. But she had to tell him that way because the details were still coming together for her, even if she had been there as they played out.

"I thought he was going to kill me, Alaric. I thought I was going to die. And I can't die." Starting toward Lizzie and Josie's room, she gasped. "The girls-"

"Hey, hey. It's okay." He took one step toward her, one long step that made up for three, to put his hands on her shoulders. "They're safe. You're safe. We're all safe."