Page 58 of Alchemy of Secrets

I think your friend might be the devil,” said Chance. But there was no excitement or playfulness in his voice. No victory that they had finally found him.

Holland’s head spun as she stared at the picture. Her parents were in the middle, standing next to each other, and right behind them was Adam Bishop.

She reminded herself that Adam had told her he’d once been the devil. But he’d also promised he’d never made a deal with her parents.

She searched the photo for Mason. She looked for him in all Chance’s photos, but there was only Adam.

This didn’t prove that Adam had been lying about Mason, but what if he had been? What if Holland had it all backward and Adam really was the villain?

Holland reminded herself that January trusted him.

She could trust him, too. But what evidence did Holland actually have for this?

Now that she thought about it, only one person at the Bank had mentioned Adam’s name: Padme.

That should have been enough, except that Holland had seen Adam not only erase memories but change them.

If he really was the acting devil instead of his brother, it would have been easy for Adam to figure out whose memories at the Bank he’d need to change in order to convince Holland he was January’s partner.

Suddenly, Holland was desperate to find the Professor—to ask if she knew Adam Bishop. But there wasn’t time for that. As soon as Holland exited this elevator, she had to decide whether to go find Adam or look for the Alchemical Heart on her own.

Holland restarted the elevator. Chance now looked as if he didn’t want to let her out of his sight. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get out of this without hurting him yet again.

Thankfully for Holland, Chance Garcia was easily recognizable, even in a pirate costume. Just minutes after she and Chance exited the elevator, partygoers were asking for selfies, and Holland was slipping away from her friend.

The night had gone from tipsy to drunk. The floor beneath her shoes felt sticky, everything smelled like liquor and sugar, and what had been jazzy music now just sounded like noise.

Holland heard a familiar laugh and spun around to find Cat near the entrance of the ballroom, talking to Eileen.

Holland felt a pang of guilt for how she’d parted with Cat earlier, but she couldn’t risk talking to either of her friends now.

After she found the Heart. If she found the Heart, she would make all this up to them.

Holland was almost inside the Roosevelt’s Spare Room—the gaming parlor and cocktail lounge where the bowling alley lived—when she realized she had no idea where to search. But then she remembered the words in her father’s note. You already have everything you need. You just have to see it.

Holland could do this. She might not have solved the mystery of exactly why her parents had died, but she’d confirmed what kind of person her father was.

Everyone she’d met on this treasure hunt had painted a picture of Ben Tierney that not only made her feel proud of him but also made her feel closer to him.

Ben was a good person.

He had a heart, and he was one of those rare people who only became better at using it throughout his life.

Ben was the real deal. Smart. The kind of visionary storyteller that comes around once in a lifetime .

If her father believed she could do this, then she could do it. Holland had faith in her father, and he had faith in her.

The music faded as soon as she stepped into the gaming parlor, and suddenly she felt as if she could have been walking into her father’s unfinished movie.

Balls were rolling and pins were falling and people in outlandish Halloween costumes were sipping cocktails like they were sodas.

The double lanes had been painted green for the night, and single-digit numbers had been stuck on all the balls, making every lane look like a giant billiard table.

You just have to see it , her father had written.

Then she saw him . Mason Bishop.

Every single hair on her arms stood up.

Mason was reclining in the cocktail lounge, dressed exactly as he’d been last night: dark pants, white dinner jacket, undone tie around his neck.

She still thought he looked like the looking-glass version of Adam: harder, colder. His hair was darker, but his skin was fairer. He probably had an inch of height on his brother, and he looked as if he hadn’t smiled in a century.

Holland watched him taking in the bowling alley scene and looking bored as hell. Then his eyes were on her. Holland felt it again—the same electric charge as last night crackled through the air.

Suddenly, Mason no longer looked bored. Then he was there, right in front of her. “You’re running a little late tonight.”

Holland took an involuntary step back. “How—how did you do that?” Her eyes went to the far side of the cocktail lounge, where Mason had just been reclining, then back to the man in front of her. Adam had said his brother couldn’t use his abilities. But clearly, Adam was a liar.

Mason’s expression darkened. “Yes, my younger brother is a liar and a number of other unfortunate words.”

“How did you know what I—”

“I can’t read your mind,” Mason interrupted. “And I didn’t need to. We’ve had this conversation before.”