Lair of Dreams
Sam’s wolf grin was back. “I like it when the stakes are high.”
He opened the door a crack. At the far end of the corridor were two men in gray suits. Their gait was calm but deliberate, and something about it unnerved Sam, though he couldn’t say why. The men seemed out of place—not like postal workers. More like security of some sort. If pressed, Sam could use his skills to disorient the men long enough to get away, but that was an absolute last resort. He liked keeping his divining talent—if that’s what it was—a secret. Secrets were protection.
Evie peered over his shoulder. “Who is that? Police?” she whispered, confirming his gut reaction.
“Don’t know, but they don’t look friendly. Come on. We can’t get out that way,” Sam said, shutting the door. “We’ll have to go out the way we came in.”
“Sam. There’s nothing to catch us on the other side. We could break an ankle. What if those men hear us? What if they want to use the lavatory?”
The footsteps were very close now.
“Maybe they don’t even want this office,” Evie whispered.
The doorknob rattled, then fell silent. It was followed a few seconds later by the click of a key in the lock. Evie took in a sharp breath.
“Easy, Sheba,” Sam whispered, his breath warm on her skin.
Hallway light spilled across the office floor, then receded as the door was shut again. From their hiding spot under the desk, Evie and Sam could see the gray trouser legs and black shoes of the two men as they moved silently around the abandoned office. File drawers were opened and shut. One of the men stood in front of the desk, very close, and Evie’s heart hammered so hard in her ears, she feared it could be heard plainly. Sam rubbed his thumb in small circles against the inside of her wrist. It was meant as a reassuring gesture, but it sent shivers up her arm and made her head buzzy.
One of the men spoke. His voice was bland, almost soothing. “See anything that looks like a prophecy?”
“Not unless it’s written in dust,” the other man said. His voice was quieter and raspy, like a broken whisper.
Both pairs of shoes faced the wall with the map. “So many chickens to round up.”
“That was close,” she whispered. Her head was light.
“Yeah. Yeah, it was,” Sam said. Neither of them moved. His hand still cupped her wrist gently.
“I-I suppose we can go now,” Evie said.
“Suppose so,” Sam answered.
“Well,” Evie said, then she crawled out from under the desk and stretched. Sam followed, but he turned away and leaned against the wall for a moment.
“You jake?” Evie asked.
They started down the long hallway. Sam could still smell a bit of Evie’s perfume on his collar. He gave her a sideways glance just as she looked his way, grinning, clearly invigorated by their shared adventure. And Sam’s heart felt suddenly too big for the cage of his chest.
A janitor came around the corner with his mop and pail, and Evie let out a yelp of surprise. The janitor startled, then narrowed his eyes. “Hey! You’re not supposed to be down here. Who let you in?”
“Gee. We’re awfully sorry, Pops. We were looking for the dead letter office so we could pay our respects,” Sam said, and Evie let out a little snort of laughter, which she covered with a cough. “Guess this isn’t it. Excuse us, won’tcha?”
They sidled past the janitor, holding fast to each other’s hands. Evie’s giggles bubbled up, and that was all it took to make Sam lose his composure.
“You’re not supposed to be down here!” the janitor yelled after them as they broke into a run, both of them laughing hysterically.
By the time Sam and Evie arrived at the Waldorf, the Radio Star people were waiting.