Chapter Seven
The Jetta takes off, and I twist in my seat to peer out the back window. “Isn’t that your uncle? He’s with that matchmaker woman.” Adrenaline rushes through my veins faster than the rising speed of our Uber. My arms and legs shake, and fear tightens my stomach.
“What?” Marek turns and glances back just as the Jetta careens around a corner. “I don’t see them.”
“They were back on the other street.” I flip forward and settle into my seat.
The cushion moves a little when he plops back down. “Could have been a couple that resembled them.”
“Right. A couple that just so happened to look like both of them.” I cross my arms in front of my chest to steady them.
He gives me one of those smiles Dalton does when he wants to placate me. “Well, we’ve lost them, so there’s no way to know for sure it was them.”
He doesn’t believe that I saw them. I stare out the window, watching the busy streets, not wanting to talk anymore. Too many strange things are happening lately. Meeting the Thor worshipper at the gas station, then finding out he’s Marek’s uncle, and now seeing him with the woman from the train.
“Inanna,” I say so quietly the only evidence I speak is the whisper of fog against the glass. It’s a goddess’s name. I think back to Mr. Conte’s video. Could she be one? No. Why did she leave me that letter? And who’s watching me? Other than the obvious suspects, her and Bjorn, is there someone else?
The Uber driver glances at me through the rearview mirror. I didn’t notice him when we got into the car, but the man is young, dark, and gorgeous. There’s a falcon tattoo on the inside of his lower arm. “Not to worry,” he says with an accent I can’t place. “I learn driving in Algiers. This is a piece of cake.”
He changes lanes, slipping between two cars with what looks like not enough space to fit the Jetta. I swallow my breath. A seed of anxiety sprouts in the pit of my stomach and branches out, strangling my chest with its roots. I want to go home. But my want for answers is stronger.
Marek stares out the front window, watching where the Uber driver is taking us. I’m not sure I should trust this boy I only met yesterday. I don’t know him, and yet, I’ve abandoned all the warning alarms going off in my head. Why? Because he looks like that? Perfect.
Stop it. He didn’t have to invite me to come with him. He could’ve dropped it when I declined to go.
I look past him and out his side window. Central Park. Tall, thick trees canopy the green grounds. A horse with a shiny brown coat pulls a white carriage holding a woman and two little boys down the shaded pathway running alongside the street.
The Uber driver brings the Jetta to a stop and points across the street to a tall, square building with bronze doors and a long awning that covers the entrance.
“Here you are,” the Uber driver says and passes a business card over the back of his seat to me. “If you need a ride again, give me a call. I’ll be in the area.”
I pop open the door and step onto the curb. Marek slides out after me. The Jetta takes off into the rushing traffic. The business card is expensive, the paper thick, and the driver’s name is printed in fancy script.
“Horus…” I mumble. Another god name. There’s no way all of this can be a coincidence, is there?
Marek runs his fingers through his hair. “That place is nice. Bet it costs a lot to live here. Even has a doorman.”
“What’re we going to say?” I shove my hands into my jacket’s pockets.
“Not sure,” he says. “First, we need to get inside.”
“We could tell the doorman we’re friends from school.”
“What if he checks with her and we’re sent away?” His hand rests on the back of his neck, his eyes casing the building. “I think we go with a distraction.”
“A distraction?” I repeat, uncertainty sounding in my voice.
“I’ll take care of it. When it goes down, you sneak to the elevators and go to the apartment.”
“What do I say to her?” I don’t like that plan. It can go wrong, and I could get caught. Possibly ending in me getting my first offense on an arrest record for breaking and entering or something. Is it considered breaking and entering if you don’t break anything when you enter? I don’t know and don’t want to find out.
“The truth will work.” He sounds confident. “I’ll ask the doorman for directions. When you feel he’s distracted enough, make your move.”
Because, apparently, all common sense leaves me when Marek is involved—or I wouldn’t even be in New York—I agree with his plan, and we cross the street with a crowd of pedestrians. I try to look as inconspicuous as possible standing by the front door of the apartment building. When Marek approaches the doorman, he’s receiving a delivery.
Every possible outcome of this little, maybe illegal, plan to sneak me into the apartment complex runs through my mind. If I’m caught, I won’t have just an arrest record to worry about, they’ll call Jane. Call Jane.
I’ll never be allowed out ever again. Going somewhere in Philadelphia without permission would be bad enough, but leaving the state and going to New York City, she’ll blow a fuse. A nervous twitch travels down my back, and I stretch out my fingers to keep my hands from trembling.
I peer through the sliding glass doors. The lobby is empty. Marek’s arms are flailing around while saying something to the doorman. The man, tall and lean with a long face, follows Marek up the sidewalk.
“You think she’s in labor?” the man’s saying as he passes me. “Are you certain?”
“Yes, she needs help,” Marek answers.
The man’s shoes clack against the cement. “We should call an ambulance.”
“We have.” Marek gives me a quick look and tips his head toward the door. “Move,” he mouths.
I dart through the sliding doors and to the elevators, shooting glances over my shoulder, waiting for the elevator to arrive. Just outside in front of the building, Marek runs off, and the doorman yells something at him before turning to return to the apartment complex.
A ding goes off, and the elevator opens. I dash inside and stab the button for the fifteenth floor. My stomach takes a beat to catch up with me. It lurches and drops when the doors to the outside part and the doorman strides in.
I press myself up against the elevator’s back wall, hoping he doesn’t notice me. The doors slide shut just as his head turns in my direction. The floor lifts, and I swallow a heavy breath.
“That was close,” I say to no one and slump against the wall.
The fifteenth floor has precisely four doors. Two lead to fire escapes on either end of the hall, and two to apartments 15A and 15B.
I push the doorbell to 15B and wait.
It’s pretty silent on the other side of the door. Maybe Shona’s out. We didn’t come up with a plan if she’s not home. Neither one of us even thought of the possibility that she’d be gone.
Do I wait?
I wrench my phone out of my pants pocket, search for Marek’s number, and press the call button.
“Did you make it?” Marek sounds out of breath. He must’ve run for a while.
“I did,” I say. “But she’s not home.”
“Great. We have to wait for her.”
“You mean I do,” I grumble. He isn’t the one illegally in an apartment building. What would the charges be for trespassing? Or I could be mistaken for a burglar. Or maybe even a stalker.
The thumping of heavy boots on the wooden floor causes me to spin away from the door. A tall guy with sandy brown hair who looks as if he just stepped off the runway comes to a halt outside 15B.
I freeze, not able to move.
He glares down at me and snaps, “Who are you?”
“I—”
“Why are you here?” He lets out a feral growl.
My lungs tighten, and I can’t breathe. “D-Don’t hurt me.”