by AR Colbert
“Here,” Gayla said, pointing down a dark alleyway.
“Are you sure?” Memories of almost getting caught in a similar alleyway earlier that day surfaced, and I shuddered at the thought of rats and roaches and other nasties that lurked in places like this.
“Positive.” She marched onward, and after a shared glance with Dom, we followed.
It was quiet, but not as gross as the place I hid earlier. It didn’t smell like a rotten dumpster for one thing, but it also had almost a tidy feel to it. Or, as tidy as a dark alleyway in New York City could feel, anyway.
“Here we go. After you ladies.” Gayla extended her arm to a dark stairwell that led down to an unmarked door below street level.
“Uhh, nope. You can go first. I insist.”
Dom giggled as I halted at the top of the stairs, grabbing onto the railings like a cat refusing a bath. “You can still wait here if you want. We’ll go see if we can find Tate and bring him up here to you.”
“No, I’ll be fine.” The alley didn’t seem so bad when I was with friends, but that certainly didn’t mean I wanted to hang out here alone. Reluctantly, I released the rails and tiptoed after them down the stairs.
A small bell hung outside of the metal door at the bottom. I searched for signage or windows—anything to give me some kind of indication of what we could expect to find on the other side, but there was nothing. Just the bell. Gayla gave it a ring, its sound tinny in the cool night air.
A square peep hole cover slid open to reveal a dark beady eye on the other side of the door. “State your business.” The voice was nasally and apathetic.
“We’re here for The Vault.” Gayla was practically glowing with excitement as she turned and gave us an enthusiastic thumbs up.
The peep hole closed and the sound of something scraping across the floor was followed by the door swinging open. I stepped inside after Gayla, noting the step stool just to our left. It was one of the few items in the small dank room we’d entered, and it sat lonely on the dirty linoleum floor.
A squatty woman with frizzy graying brown hair was waddling back to a warped cheap wooden table, stained with water rings. She climbed up into her chair and picked up the four inch thick book she was reading. I couldn’t tell what it was, but there were definitely spaceships on the cover.
I raised my brows at Gayla. Her grin stretched even wider, and she gave a confident nod of her head toward a bookshelf built into the opposite wall. The woman, who just seemed to notice our delay, peered over the pages of her book. The fluorescent light flickering over her head highlighted the stray white hairs that had escaped her ponytail and now bobbed like unruly little dancers in the wind of her fan buzzing in the corner. “Was there something else you needed?” Her tone was laced with irritation. She probably wanted to get back to her book.
“No, thank you. We’re going.” Gayla moved toward the bookshelf and gave us a wink before pulling out a ratty old book with a burgundy spine. The title had faded to nothing but specks of gold, but it wasn’t important. The book merely served as a trigger for the mechanism that was now swinging the bookshelf open and to the side to reveal the secret area behind it.
“The Vault is an old prohibition era bar hidden down here under the city. They used to store liquor here where it wouldn’t be found and confiscated. Now it's just a hot spot for Keepers—primarily Agarthians—to kick back and enjoy themselves away from mortal eyes,” Gayla explained.
“But the woman who let us in was a mortal, right?”
“Yeah. But she’s glamoured. She’ll forget everything about the strangeness of her job every night before she goes home. Then she’ll return to do it again tomorrow. Don’t worry about her though, she gets to read every book on the old shelves, and they pay her well.”
We followed Gayla through the opening into a slightly larger warm space on the other side. Tufted Victorian couches and armchairs sat huddled together in small pairings through the room. An exposed brick wall held a glowing fireplace, adding to the ambiance as the reflection of its flames danced across the intricacies of the metal ceiling tiles overhead. A large mahogany bar sat at the far wall, next to a small stage where a jazz band was set up but not currently playing.
The room was nearly at capacity with just twenty or thirty patrons—all unnaturally beautiful and carefree. Well, carefree until their golden eyes all turned to me.
I immediately felt a surge of electricity jolt through my limbs. “This was a mistake,” I whispered to Gayla. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“Too late now,” she whispered back. Then she smiled and waved to a gorgeous dark skinned woman standing nearby. I moved to follow her over there, but a strange tug in my chest urged me to turn to my left, instead.
“We’re right here if you need us,” Dom said, squeezing my arm. Then she left me alone, staring like a fool at my future murderer.
Tate stalked across the room, long, feline-like strides that brought him to my side in a matter of seconds. “What are you doing here?”
The sound of his voice sent a tickle down my spine. He’d tried to sound intimidating, but it came off a little too caring. I almost sensed a touch of concern in his tone.
“I came to find you, actually.”
The corner of his mouth twitched up into a shadow of a grin. “You’re still mortal.” His eyes trailed my figure, as though he could see my fragility radiating off of me. “So I know you’re not here to offer your soul to me. What else could you possibly need?” His golden eyes glistened with amusement. I didn’t fully understand Tate’s game, but he obviously felt like he was winning. And the flutter in my belly led me to believe he was probably right about that.
Though, it wasn’t unpleasant.
An ensemble of musicians resumed their spot on the stage, dressed as a jazz band might have dressed in the 1920s. A woman in a shimmery black knee-length cocktail dress stepped up to the microphone and began to sing. The song was like nothing I’d ever heard. In fact, I’m not even sure I was hearing it with my ears. It moved me within my soul.
Every fear I had immediately dissipated. My stress was gone. I swayed to the music, entranced by each exquisite note, feeling lighter and lighter with every word the woman sang.
“Everly.”
The sound of Tate’s voice, rich like honey, snapped my attention back to him. He was truly a magnificent creature, towering over me with his broad shoulders and slender waist, hands in his pockets. He cleared his throat, pulling my gaze away from his chest and back up to his glistening golden eyes. But I couldn’t even be embarrassed. The song wouldn’t allow it. All I felt was pure contentment.
“You like this song?” He asked with a grin.
“Very much.” When had I reached out to him? I looked at my hand, sliding down his shoulder and the ridges of his bicep like it belonged to someone else. I would never be so bold as to reach out and feel a man’s muscles. But I was.
“Everly!” Dom pulled me away. “We’ve got to get you out of here. You’re not strong enough to resist the pull of the siren’s song.”
“I don’t want to go.” I looked back at the beautiful man beside me. Tate looked like he was suppressing a laugh.
Dom turned to him next. “Come on. We need to talk to you. It’s important.” She dragged me back to the bookshelf, which held celebrity memorabilia on this side of the wall.
“Go ahead,” she said to Tate. “Pull the secret lever or whatever.”
He twisted a signed portrait of Cary Grant and the shelf came to life again. I turned longingly back toward the warm room with the enchanting music we were leaving behind, but another tug from Dom pulled me into the blinking fluorescent lights of the room we’d first entered. The bored mortal with the space novel glanced in our direction.
“Do something with her,” Dom commanded, waving her hand in the direction of the confused woman. To my surprise, Tate obeyed. He approached her as the shelf swung back into place behind us. With the sound of the music muffled out, I regained my ab
ility to concentrate and think clearly. I was filled with great curiosity as Tate leaned across the old table and touched the small woman’s arm.
“We’re going to talk, and you can’t hear anything we say for the next ten minutes. You’re going to read your book, and you won’t even know we’re here. There is nothing unusual taking place tonight.”
The woman pulled her book back in front of her and looked down at its pages without so much as acknowledging a word Tate said.
“Are you sure that worked?” I asked.
Tate nodded. Unbelieving, I clapped my hands together while simultaneously shouting, “HEY!” The woman didn’t even flinch.
“Satisfied?” Tate smirked.
“I guess so.” I shuffled, uncomfortable now that the glamour of the siren’s song had worn off, and I realized how strangely I’d behaved moments earlier. But we only had ten minutes, so I had to cut to the chase.
“Look, I need to talk to you about something important. I know it’s not technically your case to solve, but I think I have a lead on the dark magic incident with Mr. Mason.”
Tate shook his head. “You need to talk to Osborne about that.”
“I can’t. When he tracked me down this afternoon he made it clear that he wouldn’t hear a word I had to say. He doesn’t trust me.”
“Osborne tracked you down today?”
“Yes.”
Tate’s jaw tightened, just for the briefest of moments before he relaxed it again. But he couldn’t hide the fists he still held clenched at his side. I knew Osborne had crossed a line. And thankfully, Tate seemed open to hearing me out now.
“I think I know who the fractured soul is. I think it’s Mr. Mason’s housekeeper. And she has an accomplice.”
Gayla emerged from behind the bookshelf then, just in time for me to relay everything I’d seen between the housekeeper and Mr. Smiley. And within minutes we had a plan. Hopefully it would work. And hopefully Sean wouldn’t be too angry with me when all was said and done.
CHAPTER 12
My mind was racing a million miles an hour the next morning as I skipped down the stairs on my way to Millie’s shop. Sean was waiting outside the door, oblivious to everything that had taken place the day before. Thank goodness he wasn’t a mind reader, too. There was no way I’d be able to hide my anxiety.
I joined him on the sidewalk with an enthusiastic grin and patted him roughly on the shoulder. “Hey buddy, what’s up? Having a good morning so far?” Too much. Play it cool.
Sean made a face. “How many cups of coffee have you had?”
“Just the right amount.” I giggled, trying to act normal, and nearly choked on my spit.
He shook his head. “Whatever. I’m fine, I guess. But I really do need to get my schedule figured out. Have you nailed yours down yet?” He began walking toward the apothecary, but I stayed put.
“Oh shoot!” I put a hand to my forehead. “No, actually. I was meaning to talk to you about that. I accidentally left my pen at Abby’s apartment the other day when Millie and I went to see her dad.”
He stopped and looked over his shoulder at me. “So?”
“So, it’s my lucky pen. I need it… to help me make a list of the classes I’m interested in.”
He made that same face as before. Sean definitely thought I was some kind of special this morning.
“I know it sounds ridiculous, but I just don’t think I’ll be able to get my schedule sorted out until I can get that pen back. Is there any way we might be able to swing by her place before we head into the shop?” I clasped my hands together in front of my chest and batted my eyes like a cartoon. “Pretty please?”
Sean huffed and glanced down at his watch. “I don’t think we have time. Maybe you can come back with Millie later.”
“Nonsense! She won’t mind if we’re a little late. And I’m sure she doesn’t want to walk all the way back over there after working all day. I’d go by myself, but they might not like it if I ditch my guardian again.”
He grimaced. I knew he wasn’t excited about going to see Abby. Which, I had to admit, was pretty confusing. He loved to be around her. Then again, maybe that was just it. He didn’t trust himself not to fall more in love with her, and that was definitely forbidden.
“Fine, but we’ll need to get in and out as quickly as possible.”
I drew an x over my heart. “Promise. I’ll be fast as lightning.”
We picked up our speed in the opposite direction, back toward Abby’s building. I tried to keep a straight face, but the truth was that I was giddy that my plan was working. And if the others were doing their parts, then we would see them any minute…
“Sean! Everly!” Gayla marched over and threw her arms around us in a three way hug while Dom smirked behind her on the sidewalk. We’d just rounded the corner of Abby’s block, and they were waiting exactly where they said they’d be. The plan was still moving as smooth as silk.
Sean pulled away, flustered. He ran a hand through his hair and frowned. “Why are you two all the way over in this part of town?”
“We heard about this amazing new donut shop. They’ve invented something called a crenglish muffnut that is supposedly to die for. It’s a cross between a croissant, an English muffin, and a donut, and it was featured in—”
Sean waved her off just in time. I was about to lose it. I bit the inside of my lip hard to keep from laughing out loud. The thrill of the chase had me jazzed, and Gayla’s made-up breakfast treat was too bizarre to handle. Dom shook her head, dropping her face toward the ground to hide her smirk.
“Well, we’ll let you get to your breakfast then. We’re in kind of a hurry.” Sean cut around Gayla to keep moving toward the apartment building. The green awning over the door was just a few yards ahead.
“We’ll walk with you,” Gayla replied, undeterred by Sean’s attempt to shake her off. “I think the donut place is down the block somewhere over here. Where are you guys going, anyway?”
“Everly left a pen inside one of these apartments. We’re gonna grab it before heading back to Millie’s shop this morning.” He cut his eyes over to me, not even attempting to hide his frustration over the matter.
“A pen?” Gayla raised her brows in my direction. We hadn’t discussed exactly how I was going to lure Sean back to Abby’s place. I had to think quickly this morning.
“It’s my lucky pen.” I shrugged. “I need it to help me narrow down which classes I’m going to enroll in. It’s never let me down before!”
Gayla resumed her straight face as she launched into some long story about a lucky keychain she got when she turned sixteen. I appreciated her backing me up. That, and what I discovered was an incredible storytelling ability she possessed.
Dom winked in my direction as we slowed in front of the doorway. I knew what had to happen next.
“Well, here we are,” said Sean. “Enjoy your pastries.” But the girls didn’t budge.
“Whose place did you say this was?” Gayla asked.
He didn’t. And it was probably intentional.
“This is where Abby lives,” I said. Sean shifted nervously on his feet.
“Abby? As in Sean’s good friend, Abby? Oh, I’d love to meet her. I’ve heard so much about her. Mind if we go up with you?”
“No. I mean, yes. I do mind. You can’t come up.” The color drained from Sean’s already pale face. I’d never seen him look quite as uncomfortable as he did at the prospect of Gayla and Abby meeting each other.
“Her father isn’t feeling well.” I shot Sean a sympathetic look. As far as I could tell he didn’t suspect anything unusual about our chance meeting with the girls.
“Well, maybe he would like a muffnut. We should get one for Abby, too. You can bring it to her, Sean.” Gayla smiled sweetly. She was a really great actress, too. If I didn’t already know how difficult it was for her to think about Sean and Abby together, I wouldn’t have noticed the pain behind her eyes at all.
Sean looked like he was going to
be sick. Bringing Abby breakfast would definitely send her the wrong ideas.
“You know what, maybe Dom and I can go up together. You two can stay down here, and since neither of us are close enough to chit chat with Abby, we can make it quick. We’ll be right back.”
I pulled Dom by the elbow before Sean could object. It would only take a second for him to see through my weak reasoning, but I couldn’t think of any other way to get Dom upstairs with me. And I needed Dom there.
Abby opened her door a few minutes later with wide eyes. “Oh,” she said, startled. “Where’s Sean?”
“He’s catching up with a friend he ran into on the sidewalk outside. This is Dom.”
Abby’s forehead wrinkled as she glanced between us, but she stepped back and allowed us inside. Sean and I had sent a text before we left to let her know we were on our way.
“I looked everywhere, but I didn’t see any pens,” she said.
“Hmm… maybe your housekeeper saw it somewhere.” I pushed past her toward the kitchen. The couch was empty, which probably meant Mr. Mason was in bed. Stay strong, big guy, I thought to myself. We’ll get you feeling better soon.
Nikki, the stringy haired housekeeper, stood in the kitchen, wiping down the counters. She glanced up nervously as I approached, likely remembering that I was related to Millie.
“Hi.” I leaned forward onto the freshly wiped granite, leaving elbow smudges on its glossy surface. “I’m Abby’s friend, Everly. I think I left my pen here the other day when I stopped by with my aunt. You might know her—Millie? She’s the pharmacist at the apothecary near Central Park. Anyway, have you seen it?”
The housekeeper’s breathing quickened, her chest visibly rising and falling before us. She was nervous. Good. I glanced at Dom to see if she was getting anything from the woman’s thoughts just yet, but I couldn’t tell. Time to turn it up a notch.
“I think I set it down on the counter right here. I remember there was some kind of an investment folder by it. Yellow and blue? The logo looked kinda cheesy, like some con artist had designed it.” I laughed, pretending I’d made an innocent joke. “I’m kidding, of course. I’m sure it was totally legit. But that pen… did you see it? It’s kind of special to me.”