Rain drums against the corrugated roof as I slip through the back door of our tenement block. The hallway smells of boiled cabbage and damp carpet—the kind of place you don't remember until you do. I tip Lena's diary onto the kitchen table, a page left open to where she had marked out the words Project Nocturne in shaky writing.
My pulse races. I sweep my finger over the words. In the kitchen's single pool of light, the words seem to writhe off the page. I was supposed to visit Lena first—now I'm excavating something darker.
"Back so soon?" Gio's voice booms behind me. He stands in the doorway, arms folded, rain sheen on his coat.
I shut the diary and shove it into my jacket pocket. "We have to talk.".
His forehead creases. "What about?" You look like crap."
I don't have time to waste. "Lena's diary." The statement slices through the stagnant air. "It's not a kid's secret journal. She's writing about…magic." I open the pocket and push the leather into his palm.
Gio slaps it open and reads. His face goes white. "What the hell is Nocturne?"
I take a chair and sit. "She talks of ritual—blood, symbols, gates. She thinks someone is trying to open something up." My voice is husky, low. "We need to find her."
Gio slams the diary shut. "You have no idea what you're dealing with." He fumbles through his pack and pulls out a crumpled photo—Lena in her blue hoodie, smiling. "Your sister's in trouble. Bringing magic into our world…we don't even know what that's going to do."
I look at him. "Then explain."
He breathes deeply, tired. "All right. But we do it my way."
I nod. "No loose ends."
His phone is ringing. He looks at the screen. "Serafino foot soldiers spotted by the docks." He looks at me. "They're looking for you."
My gut clenches. "Because of the diary."
"Because of your sister," he says. "She's the one who can access it."
I stand up and pace. "We get split up. You cover the docks. I cover her room." I nod towards the tiny bedroom down the hall.
Gio's face is unsure, then he stows his phone. "You're going alone?"
I tap my gloves on the wall. "It's quick." I step into the hallway. Paint peels on the walls. Dull carpet swallows my boots. I stand next to the door of Lena's room. A thin wind slices through the space at the bottom.
I open the notebook's empty space on the shelf is revealed, but I notice a missing desk lamp. Clothes scattered everywhere—like she hastily left. I push the door in.
In the closet, stacks of shoes—none of them new. I go down on my knees and run my fingers along the baseboard. There: a tiny crevice. I pry the boards away; they come loose. Behind them is a small hollow containing a folded piece of parchment.
I pull it out. Silver script moves across the page—letters I don't recognize, but they hum with a force I can almost smell. Underneath, Lena's writing: "Midnight, abandoned church—blood gate."
My head jerks up. The abandoned church. Five blocks from here. The one they burned out last summer.
I fold the parchment again and press it against my chest. Lena is risking everything for this. A fist of fear tightens in my stomach, then a burst of anger. No one challenges my family and gets away with it.
I stand listening as muffled noises come into the hall. Silenced fear shoots through me. I force the boards back and slip out, slipping the door shut behind me quietly.
Gio stands in the living room, coat on, pockets rammed into his hands. "Anything?"
I nod. "She's at the old church. Midnight." I pull the parchment from my pocket and give it to him.
His face becomes grave. "The Serafinos'll be there too."
My jaw becomes rigid. "Then we'll get there first.".
The rain pours down over the streets. I zip my jacket and scrunch my head. The church appears in front of me—charred stone, broken stained glass. Its iron door groans on a solitary hinge, threatening like.
I check my watch: 11:42 PM. Eighteen minutes to midnight. I'm punctual.
I push open the gate, boots squelching in wet gravel. The door is ajar. Moonlight pours through shattered window frames, lighting the pews in spectral stripes.
"Lena?" I whisper. My voice echoes.
Glows softly, a throb comes from the altar. I crawl in a crouch behind a broken pew and edge forward. There she is—Lena kneels before a circle of shining symbols carved into the stone floor. Her hands tremble as she inscribes a figure-eight rune with vial of her own blood. Pale light spirals up, concentrating into a silvery fog.
My heart tightens. Magic. Real magic.
Before I can move, the mist solidifies into shape—tall, thin, hooded. Its face is black as night. Lena gasps.
I advance a step. "Lena!"
She turns, her eyes welling with tears. "Ivy!" She tries to rise, but the robe-figure raises a hand, pushing her back—sliding feet across the wet stone.
I charge. "Stop!" I drag her back, breaking the pattern. The mist shrieks—metal on metal—and dissolves. The robe-figure vanishes into nothing.
Lena clings to me, trembling. "They were here," she whispers. "They were watching me."
I hold her tighter. "Who? What were you doing?"
She wipes her face with her sleeve. "I was going to open the gate—to see if the stories were true. But I wasn't alone. Someone else is using my research…to call something through."
The ceiling lurches with a rumbling thud. Debris clatters overhead. I take Lena and make for the door. "We're not going through that to discover."
She struggles onto her feet. "My diary—there's more. I never got to the end of it."
I squat and fish it out of my jacket. "Then we're coming back. But get you safe first."
She buries her forehead against mine. "Why won't you just leave me alone to do this?"
I swallow down the thickness in my throat. "Because you're my sister. And no secret—no ritual—will make a difference."
She nods, sparkling with tears. "Promise you won't let them hurt me."
I lift her chin. "I swear." My tone is steel and gravel. "But if they make a move, they'll have to get through me."
Hand in hand, we push out into the storm. The church door crashes shut behind us, echoing through the night.
I glance over at Lena. She smiles tremulously. "Deal."
As we dissolve into the rain, I press the diary to my heart. Project Nocturne is not magic. It's a tool. And if the Serafinos learn about it before me, they will raze this city—and my family—into nothingness.
I clench my teeth. No matter what it costs, I am going to prevent them. Even if I must sacrifice everything.