Lair of Dreams
Beside Evie, Sam trembled.
“I’ve got you,” Evie said. She reached over and wrapped his arm around her waist, letting him hold on to her as if she were a buoy. This pleased the people, who cheered and clapped and whistled. She could feel Sam’s pulse thumping.
“He was going to shoot you,” he whispered, dazed. “I had to stop him.”
A reporter got up in Sam’s face. “Hey, big hero! Look this way!”
Evie gave the shutterbug a push. “Leave him alone!” she growled.
“C’mon, Evie. Your fella is big news.”
“He’s not your story right now!” Evie tried to protect Sam, but there were too many people surging forward, and she lost her grasp on his fingers.
“Sam!” Evie shouted, reaching out, but the celebrating crowd had him. Strong men lifted Sam up in the air on display, moving down Sixth Avenue like a saint’s procession on feast day.
The broken soldier had come to as the police dragged him away through the streams of people, who booed and hissed and spat at him.
“They never should’ve done it,” the soldier cried over and over.
Evie turned to see Theta running toward her, frantic. “Oh, Evil, you okay, kid?”
And with that, Evie burst into tears and let Theta hold her.
All afternoon, Evie searched for Sam. She even stopped by the museum, where she was surprised when Mabel answered the door.
“Hi, Pie Face. Is Sam here?”
“No. Do you want to wait for him?”
Over Mabel’s head, Evie spied Jericho lurking in the hallway. He saw her and walked back into the library without so much as a hello.
“No. Thank you. If you see Sam, will you tell him I’m looking for him and to call me either at the Winthrop or WGI?”
“Sure. Say, is everything all right?”
“I certainly hope so,” Evie said.
WGI was so ecstatic about the news that Sam was a Diviner that they insisted on hosting a party that evening at the Knickerbocker Hotel. The telephone operators and secretaries had spent the entire afternoon burning up the telephone lines, inviting every swell in town, as well as any reporter with more than an inch of column space. By eleven thirty, the hotel’s ballroom was packed, but Sam was nowhere to be found, and Evie’s heart sank.
As she stood listening to a portly man in a tuxedo drone on about the stock market—“Safest place in the world to put your money. Put it all in today. Every last cent!”—a bellhop delivered a note on a silver tray. “A message for you from Miss Anna Polotnik?”
Evie tore open the envelope. The note read, simply, “Roof. Now.”
“Won’t you excuse me?” Evie said sweetly. She sauntered gracefully from the room, then hiked up her dress and ran for the stairs.
“There you are,” Evie said, huffing and puffing as she came out onto the hotel’s roof. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”
“Congratulations. You found me.” Sam leaned forward, resting his forearms on the wide stone ledge. “How’s the party?”
“Oh, you know. Lots of hot air and silver gravy boats. Aren’t you cold?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to go inside?”
“Are you all right?”
“Sure.”
“Are you lying?”
Sam shrugged and stared out at the jagged city. It was clear he wasn’t coming down, so Evie propped open the door with her purse and went to stand beside him. Searchlights had been positioned down below, compliments of WGI. White-hot, they swept back and forth, bouncing off anything with shine.
“That time we went to the Tombs to see Jacob Call,” Evie said softly. “That policeman looked right at us. You put up your hand, and it was like he couldn’t see us. Like we were cloaked in some way.”
Sam didn’t answer.
“How long?”
Sam shrugged. “I never know. Depends on how suggestible the person is. I’ve had folks who last twenty seconds and some who come around quick—I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar, so to speak. Usually, it’s about ten to twelve seconds. Long enough to grab the goods if you’re fast. And I am.”
“I meant how long have you been able to do this don’t see me routine?”