by Jen Greyson
As I stand, the sun peeks from behind a cloud and illuminates the ornate bedside table, bare save a lamp and ashtray. The clouds shift again and the sunbeam brightens, setting ablaze a diamond bracelet and pair of earrings nestled in the ashtray.
I cock my head and watch the sparkling specks of light dance across the wall.
Rounding the bed, I drop to a crouch and study the jewelry. They’re very similar to the set I wore the first night I dined with Nikola and my escort told me to take them off. I scoop them up and bounce them in my palm. No way he’s been feeling up to entertaining. And knowing Nikola’s aversion to earrings, he’d never have been interested in a woman wearing them, let alone invite her into his room until she stowed them in her purse.
Because these aren’t from any woman.
He bought these deliberately… And left them out for me to find. I stand and study the end table. Marble-topped, with one leg flared to three claw feet, there’s nowhere to hide a special paper… if that’s what I’m here for. They can’t have been taken, or I wouldn’t have arced here.
“I need help, Nikola.”
I run a finger along the top of the beige, marbled surface. Powdery residue comes off on my fingers and I brush the tips with the pad of my thumb, studying the powder. I nudge the ashtray to the right and lean closer. I blow the same layer of residue away and set the lamp on the floor so I can get a closer look. The sunlight wanes, casting a soft glow around the room. Bending, I angle my head to the right, and can just make out an etching in the marble. I dig my fingernail into the groove and carve a circle of residue away. Excited, I race back to his desk and steal a letter opener.
Using it to pry at the circle, I finally manage to lift the small piece out, revealing a cavity beneath the marble and extending all the way into the table’s hollow leg. I jam my index finger in the hole, and my fingertip brushes paper. Gripping the edge of the marble top with one hand, I hook my thumb in the hole and lever the top up an inch until it slides free of the base. It’s heavy, but I manage to slide it off and rest it on the mattress.
“Nikola, you sneaky bastard.” I lower my hands into the recess and pull out two small notebooks and a neat stack of papers. I flip open the cover of the first one and his frantic handwriting tugs at my heart.
A knock at the door spins me around and I grasp the documents tight to my chest. Easing my way across the room, I nudge the storage room door closed and hold my breath. I’d like to think these are doctors finally arriving to take his body, but a dark foreboding crawls across my skin, leaving a chill. I should answer the door, but I can’t move back into the main room. What if they blame me for his death? No one knows who I am or who I am to Nikola. Just George.
George!
He has to know about the threats from Morgan. Is he still in Nikola’s life?
Focus! I grip the papers tighter against my chest.
Another rap of knuckles against the door. “Mr. Tesla? FBI. Open the door.” Based on the rumble of voices coming from the other side of the door, the two guys I met decades ago brought friends.
My entire body convulses with a shiver. Are they the reason I’m still here?
I can’t think. Maybe that’s common when a friend is murdered and the FBI is at the door, but I’ve got to be better than this. Why would they be here? For the meeting? Because he didn’t show two hours ago?
No matter why, they’re not going to be keen on me. I guarantee I won’t have a good answer for a single one of their questions. I frantically search for a hiding place inside the tight space of the storage room. Opened boxes are piled high between machinery parts. My breath is quick and shallow.
The papers are heavy in my arms.
“I don’t give a goddamn what you think your jurisdiction is.” The main door bursts open with a bang, and I jump and twist so my back’s pressed against the warm wood of the interior door. I glance at the end table, but there’s no way I can put it back together without drawing attention. I swallow and turn my head just enough to see through the crack. Half a dozen men in dark suits comb through the room. They reek of cigarettes and bourbon.
“You’re going to care when I bring the hammer down on you.” A short man is yelling at a younger, taller one who looks like he’d like to pound the little one. I lean closer, trying to remember faces and voices. The short one has his back to me, and a fedora obscures his face.
“Old man,” the young one says, “you have two seconds to leave this room. I don’t care who you work for, even if it is the president.”
My mouth goes dry, and I know before he turns, whose face I’m going to see. I wait for it anyway, just to be sure.
“Let’s go, boy.” The old man turns, shifting his hat to tuck the strands of gray hair beneath.
I gasp and flare my lightning, plunging the scene into darkness.
CHAPTER 31
THIS TIME, I land in my living room. “Ohmifuck, ohmifuck, ohmifuck.”
I wheeze and try to hold on to the papers, but they slip from my trembling hands and flutter to the floor. The journals catch on my boot and slide onto the messy pile, and I follow in a heap of shaking limbs.
I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose. My breathing slows to normal and I press my palms to the floor.
This could not get any worse.
Opening my eyes, I study Nikola’s minuscule, barely legible script covering the pages and cringe. I have a freaking time bomb upstairs.
And then there’s Ilif. I’m on borrowed time for a pop-in from him, but I half want him to show up so I can figure out if he’s the one leaking information to Morgan.
That gets me on my feet and gathering the papers. I don’t bother to make them neat before arcing into the spare room and flaring my lightning to dissolve my web again. I juggle the papers and get them balanced in one hand while I open the right-hand trunk this time. There’s more room in this one, but otherwise it’s identical chaos. I settle the stack on top and close the lid and rock back on my heels. I tug a few pages out, but they’re undecipherable to my meager brain. Drawings and formulas. Pages and pages of notes.
All papers that are supposed to go to this Camaria? Or only the most recent set?
And who is this Camaria from Nikola’s dreams?
After I relock the trunk, I flip the latches on the other one and pull out the envelope from the hotel safe.
More important than all the others.
Is that still true? This can’t be more important than ones you hid in a nightstand… Ones you’d rather die for than reveal.
I slide my thumb beneath the flap and pop it open, revealing a single page filled with mathematical equations. Lined up neatly, it’s the most precise document I’ve seen yet. Each equation appears to be numbered and solved. There are six. Nikola’s name is written after the third, Westinghouse’s at the bottom.
I sigh and tuck them back in the envelope and return them to the trunk. Hopefully Penya will know what to do with them. For now, I just have to keep Ilif—and half a dozen long-dead FBI and Secret Service agents—away from them. I set my locks and trap, then close the door and wander into my bedroom. My king-size bed stands sentry, facing floor-to-ceiling windows and a killer view of the city nestled in the valley. I step to the windows and pull the end of my braid forward, unwinding the rubber band.
Beyond the far mountain range, night is setting, bathing the entire valley in a molten glow. I unbraid my hair and rub my scalp, letting my eyes drift closed. Spending more time at Papi’s might make me miss the view, but not the yawing loneliness. I slip the rubber band around my wrist and cross the room to the bathroom, trailing my fingers across the gray embroidered bedspread on my way.
After the shower, I take a few minutes to actually dry and curl my hair and swipe mascara over my lashes and gloss my lips. The woman staring back at me is a stranger. But she’s also not who left a genius to die alone.
Shame washes my features as effectively as my foundation.
I sigh and pull a bu
rgundy cashmere sweater down from my rack and pair it with a cream linen pair of pants. Dumping my boots in a duffle along with my jeans, I lift a gold pair of heels and slip them on. I feel like a stranger.
I am a stranger.
Not a lightning rider. A failure. Who let a friend die. I was supposed to be there for him—to keep him from dying like I did with the ladder. Protect more than just his legacy. I don’t deserve this ability. My throat tightens.
On my way down the stairs, I stop at Mrs. Steinaman’s.
When she opens the door, she jerks upright and lifts a hand to her chest. “Evy! We haven’t seen you for ages. Not since—”
“I know. I’m sorry. Thanks for taking care of Ike.”
“Oh, no problem, dear. No problem at all. I think he likes when I add pineapple. Shakes it up a bit, you know.”
I smile. “I bet he does. Could you feed him for a couple more days? I’m going to be”—I wave my hand—“traveling more, and haven’t quite decided if he should just go to Papi’s.”
“Of course.” She tilts her silver head and stares at me. “Everything else alright, dear?”
I force a smile. “Just a busy day. Do you think Mr. Steinaman would mind if I borrowed the car?”
“Come in and ask him.”
She turns and I cringe. I was hoping this was going to be a quick visit.
“Evy!” Mr. Steinaman scoots to the edge of his recliner and leans against his cane until he’s upright. “You’re quite the looker tonight. Big date?”
“Dinner at Papi’s.”
“Well, you look beautiful.”
“She needs the car, honey.”
He bats her away like she’s a horsefly. “I’ll take you.”
“That would be great, Mr. Steinaman.”
I wait for him to put a jacket on and give Mrs. Steinaman a squeeze.
After he gets me settled in the car, he turns to me. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
I choke and clench my fingers together in my lap. “Why–why do you ask?”
“It was a yes or no answer, girl.” He shifts the car into drive.
“No. Sir.”
He nods, his wrinkled face only a few inches from the steering wheel. “Didn’t think so. Coupla’ men were nosing around your place earlier today.”
My heart pounds and my throat goes dry. Not possible. The only men who possibly know I exist would be ancient by now.
I steal a glance at Mr. Steinaman. About his age.
“Did I ever tell you I started in the FBI?”
“No, sir.”
“Didn’t stay long. Went back to police work.”
“That’s interesting.”
“Those boys today were FBI.”
“Are you sure?”
He doesn’t answer, but flips his signal to turn into Papi’s subdivision.
“Whether you think you’re in trouble or not, if the FBI is snooping around, they think you’re involved in something.”
I close my eyes and force my hands to relax. I don’t know what to say, so I don’t.
He pulls into Papi’s driveway and shifts into park, then rests his hands on the steering wheel, slowly gathering his thoughts with the same methodical approach he uses to get out of his recliner. I unlatch my seat belt, but don’t reach for the handle.
“I may be old.” He taps his temple. “But this thing still works.”
I pinch the crease of my pants.
He stares at me. “You need anything—anything—you come ask me. I still know people who can get you out of whatever you’re involved with. You’re a good girl, Evy. Don’t let one wrong decision screw up your entire life.”
I nod. There are no words to comfort either of us.
He pats my hand. “Because you can’t outsmart the FBI.”
I lean across the expanse of front seat and give him a huge hug. “Thanks, Mr. Steinaman. But it’s nothing. I promise.”
The look he gives me as I get out of the car lets me know he doesn’t believe a word of it.
Me either.
I push through the back door and expect noise and people, but no one’s in the back room. Or the kitchen. Or the front room. Finally, I find Tiana at her desk, bent over a calculator, scribbling notes on a loose sheet of paper. My heart aches at the similarity of her writing to Nikola’s. These math geniuses are all the same; too much stuff going on in their heads to take time for legible.
I knock on the doorjamb, and she doesn’t look up. I knock again, but get the same response, and I spot her iPod. I cross to her desk and tap her on the shoulder, making her jump.
She tugs an earbud out and smiles. “Hey.”
“Where is everybody?”
She shrugs and leans back in her chair, stretching. “Papi’s probably on his way home. Mami’s most likely picking up Des and Soph from dance.”
I nod and twist her paper so I can see it. “What’s this?”
She sags. “AP Calc. It’s fun.”
I stare at the paper, wishing math translated like Latin. Then I snatch the paper.
“Hey!” She grabs for the paper. “I have to turn that in.”
I palm her forehead and hold her at arm’s length. Her problems are lined up like Nikola’s, but she only has two. I set it back on her desk. “Do you get this stuff?”
She flattens it out, smoothing the creases I made. “Mostly.”
“After dinner, I need you to come look at something.”
She perks up. “Lightning-something?”
The front door slams and my little sisters run through the house, all loud and squeaky. I look up from the paper into her eager face. “Yeah.”
After dinner, we make the excuse of grabbing Ike, and escape back to my place.
As we roll past the first police car at the end of my street, the icy grip of dread tightens its hold. Red and blue flashes make the tree limbs dance in a fiercely wild tango. Two more are parked just past the entrance to my building, but still not a single officer anywhere. I scan the other cars for something ominously FBI-ish. There’s a single dark sedan, but I’ve seen it before and I think it belongs to one of Mr. Steinaman’s golf buddies who lives in the building behind us. Otherwise, there are the normal gawkers and onlookers bored enough to check out empty cop cars.
Tiana presses her face against the window. “What’s going on?”
I put the truck in park. “Not sure, but no screwing around.”
“Okay,” she whispers, hopping out and following me up the sidewalk to my place. I search the windows of the Steinaman’s and wonder if I should knock, but I’m not sure I want to call Mr. Steinaman’s attention to what’s going on if he hasn’t noticed.
But as I push my front door open, the mirrored echo of another turns my head. Mr. Steinaman stands in our small courtyard, bathed in a pool of light from his living room.
“You’re back early.” Wariness and suspicion belies his old-man aloofness.
“We’re not staying. Let me know if you see anything funny headed my way.”
He straightens and salutes then closes his door and whips his front curtains open. I nod and push Tiana through my door, shutting it behind us. “Upstairs.”
We race up the three flights to the spare bedroom, ditching my heels halfway. I’m not sure about staying here while she does the math. I frantically try to think of somewhere else we could go. Back to Papi’s, I suppose, but if there really are people here trailing me, I don’t want to lead them back to the rest of the family… Even though they probably already know everything about me…
My stomach clenches. At the door, I wrap a hand around Tiana’s forearm. “Hold on.”
I drop her arm and step to the right. I don’t want to pull her in there with me on accident. I take a deep breath and surround myself with lightning and arc inside the room, pulsing my lightning until it fills the room.
After the tendrils dissolve, I open the door for Tiana and wave her in. I debate about closing the door, but leave it open so I can hear any strang
e noises.
I slide the closet door and Tiana peers closer. “Wow.”
I pop the latches and pull out the envelope. She digs out her calculator and drops to the floor, cross-legged and expectant. I pause. Where else?
“I don’t want to do it here.… ”
“Because of the cop cars?”
I wince. “Kind of.”
She shrugs and slides the paper out and studies the equations. “Interesting.”
While I think about where else we could go, she starts in on the equations, scribbling on a notepad she pulled from her back pocket. Where I am chaos, she is preparation.
“I thought they were already solved?” I ask.
“I wanted to double-check the math, to see if there’s anything hidden in the equation or solution. Just because there’s an answer doesn’t mean it’s the correct one.”
I pace the room. Anywhere we go is findable. Except… I look back at her, head bent over the papers, hands flying over the calculator and paper.
I shake my head. I can’t take her to Constantine. If she’s a rider and traveling via lightning, it will initiate her own alteration, and I need her to help me finish this one.
Blue and red lights ricochet off the ceiling, and I peek out the window at the end of the landing. The cop cars are moving. The two down the street stop next to each other, and I can see the drivers talking to each other. After a few minutes, they flip their lights off and leave. From here, I can’t see the one who was at the end of the street, but I assume he’s gone as well.
“Hmm,” Tiana mumbles.
“What’s up?”
“This is odd.” She scribbles on the paper. “Look at this.”
I check the window one last time, but don’t see anything out of the ordinary, so I cross the room and stand over her shoulder.
“Okay, this first one is simple algebra. Nothing crazy, but then the second is a physics formula, the third is a geometric equation, and by the fourth one, we’re into seriously advanced calculus. The last two are insane. I don’t understand why they’re together, let alone in this order. Unless whoever wrote this was trying to make a point.”