Lair of Dreams
Evie bowed her head, cowed. “I just like how my voice sounds.”
Theta rolled her eyes. “Ain’t that the truth.”
“This way,” Memphis whispered, and they followed him to the end of the platform, peering over the railing to the tracks below.
Theta stared down at the drop. “You gotta be kidding me.”
Memphis held her hand. “I’ll help you, Princess. Just stick with me.”
“Poet, I’m gonna stick so close to you you’ll think you gained a hundred and two pounds.”
Memphis climbed over and jumped down first. He caught Theta, enjoying the weight of her in his arms. “Piece of cake,” he said, smiling. “Come on down, Evie.”
Evie attempted to clear the railing, but her heel caught. She took a flying leap, nearly flattening Memphis as she tumbled. “Careful, there,” he said, catching her.
“Which way?” Sam asked, jumping down and wiping his hands on his trousers.
“Watch out for that. That’s the one with all the juice,” Sam warned.
“It’s freezing down here,” Evie grumbled, the edges of her words still a bit messy. The coffee and the bitter cold had managed to take her from very drunk to less drunk with shades of irritable and belligerent.
“You’ll live,” Sam said. “Unless those hungry wraiths get us, in which case you won’t, but you also won’t have to worry about being cold anymore. So all in all, it’s a grand night in Manhattan. Hip, hip, hooray.”
“You’re in a very funny mood,” Evie said.
“I’m a funny guy,” Sam grumbled and kept his flashlight trained on the path ahead. “Just keep walking.”
Memphis lifted his eyes, taking in the grimy grandeur of the underground. “It’s sort of beautiful, though, isn’t it? Like a city below the city.”
Memphis bounced his flashlight beam across the concrete archways. “If Ling’s right about the location of Beach’s station, maybe a hundred feet?”
“It must be pretty scared, then,” Theta said.
The passageway took on water as they walked. It smelled of sulfur and rot. They covered their noses, breathing through their mouths.
“Sam,” Evie said a moment later, “I don’t know what’s happening.”
“How drunk are you?”
“No. I mean… I mean ’bout any of this. About the dead and John Hobbes. Will. Rotke. Those cards we found. Project Buffalo,” she said, the last word tripping off her booze-thickened tongue. “I need to tell you something, Sam. It’s about tonight and what happened at the show.”
Sam gestured to the dark underground, his flashlight beam bouncing off the metal and earth. “You want to have this conversation now? Here?”
“Shhh, listen. This fella brought a comb for me to read. Sam, it was James’s comb,” Evie said, keeping one hand on his back to steady herself.
“What are you talking about?”
Sam kept the flashlight trained on the path ahead as he took in what Evie was saying. “Did you know this fella?”
“Not from Adam. I swear.”
“So how’d this Abe Stranger get your brother’s comb?”
“He told me these men paid him to bring it to me. Men in dark suits.”
“You think they’re the same guys who busted in while we were in the post office?”
“I don’t know, Sam. I don’t know anything anymore.” Evie swallowed. “Like you and me, for instance.”
“There is no you and me. You made that pretty clear tonight,” Sam muttered. “Listen, you asked me to play a part, and I did. From now on, I travel solo.”