FOUR
The sound of tree limbs scratching against the window jolted Mellie awake, and her hand touched cold water as she righted herself in the stall.
“Yuck.” She wiped the wetness off on her jeans, cringing at the thought of toilet water touching her skin. “At least the water’s clean.”
Stiff from sitting so long, her back and legs protested as she stretched. How long had she been in here? It was dark outside. Who’d covered her register in the gift shop all this time? Then the reason she was hiding in here in the first place came roaring back, making her shoulders slump.
Searching the pale blue ceiling above, she looked for answers to why she hadn’t seen the signs with Greg.
“All I want is for someone to truly love me and no one else. Let me be enough. Let him be faithful, upstanding, and care for me. Is that too much to ask?”
In response, the lights blinked and went out as a nervous laugh escaped. She heard a commotion, and the door opened, heavy footfalls giving the man away. Will, the security guard, poked his head inside.
“Anybody in here? The power’s out and the museum’s closing early.”
Not daring to speak, she pressed her hands over her mouth and nose so he wouldn’t hear her breathing or the pitiful noises still clawing their way out from the back of her throat.
A beam of light played under each stall until it illuminated the floor beneath her. Perched on the toilet, she held her breath, praying he wouldn’t see her through the crack where the door met the wall. Will coughed, a heavy smoker’s hack as he looked around, all the while jangling the big ring of keys on his belt, no doubt nervous and sweating at having to set foot into the “private world of women,” as he called the ladies’ room.
A tiny smile tugged at her face as she pictured him actually encountering a woman in the ladies’ room. He’d most likely have a heart attack on the spot. The door shut, and after counting to twenty, she let her breath out in a whoosh.
“A few more minutes and I’ll face the world again.”
Unable to deal with going home to an empty apartment, knowing she was no longer part of an “us” but was now an “I” once more, Mellie sat there and picked at her lavender nail polish until there was a small pile of purple flakes scattered across the floor. After the nonstop dinging, she’d turned her phone off and somehow forced herself to stay off social media, not wanting to read all the messages piling up, both the congratulatory ones on his page and all the private messages she’d been getting asking what had happened.
Thank goodness her family or her brothers’ wives weren’t friends with Greg, so they wouldn’t witness her failure in real time. At least she could keep the death of their relationship a secret for a little longer until she was strong enough to face them and their well-meaning but hurtful comments.
When she woke again, neck stiff, Mellie twisted, this time almost falling into the toilet. Pins and needles in her legs and feet made her stumble as she risked a peek into the corridor. The museum was still. Quiet except for the rain outside. Other than the emergency lights, it was dark, the power still out.
Cold water woke her up as she splashed her face, the emergency lighting showcasing puffy red eyes, washed-out skin, and the drooping face of a basset hound. Scowling at the image, she wiped the sink off with paper towels and opened the door. Satisfied Will wasn’t lurking nearby, she made her way to the front doors and pressed on them. No go. The doors were locked until morning, when they’d automatically unlock. Fingers crossed, she tried the other doors, only to find them locked as well. Even the door by the loading dock, which was usually propped open so a couple of the employees could sneak out for a smoke, was locked.
With the power out, the security system either wasn’t functioning properly or Will had forgotten to set it when he left. It wasn’t the first time; he had trouble remembering to hit the code when he left for the night. Grateful he’d forgotten, she heaved a sigh of relief. The sound of an ear-piercing alarm was the last thing her nerves could take after the blowup of her relationship for all the world to see and comment on.
Right about now she felt sorry for celebrities: always in the spotlight, having every outfit, weight gain or loss, and love-life mistake catalogued for all the world to judge.
When she reached Will’s office, she peeked around the door in case he was still there. Sometimes he stayed and used the museum Wi-Fi.
“Hello? Anybody here?” She peered into the gloom of the small office, risking turning on the phone to use the flashlight app. “Will? You still around? It’s Mellie. I fell asleep in the ladies’ room.”
Thunder rumbled, making her jump as she backed out of his office, shutting the door behind her. No doubt about it—she was stuck until morning. Unless… She ignored the insistent dinging and found Will’s number…which, of course, went straight to voicemail.
“Will, it’s Mellie. Somehow I got locked in the museum. Guess I didn’t hear you calling when the power went out. Could you please come back and let me out? It’s kinda creepy in here at night with no one around.”
It wasn’t like she was asking him to drive a long way. Like her, Will lived within walking distance, biking or walking except when the weather was bad and he took one of those hourly car rentals. Though for him, “too cold” was a lot colder than for her. Originally from the South, Mellie had moved up north to attend college, her parents deciding it would do her good to get out of a small town and spread her wings. But when she’d visited a few colleges in big cities, Mellie decided it wasn’t for her. All the noise and crowds, not enough green space, and so in the end she’d settled on a college in a smallish town, but one larger than her hometown. Four years she’d been in the north, and in that time her family had all ended up close by. Her parents first, then her brothers—one for a job, the other for his now wife. And in four years she still hadn’t acclimated to the cold or the snow in the wintertime.
Not wanting to walk through the glass corridor linking the sculpture gallery to the modern gallery, Mellie took the long way through the medieval gallery. Normally, she avoided this wing; it was in the oldest part of the museum, the original structure, built back in the early 1900s. There was something about all those objects belonging to people long dead, and the various weapons used in battles that creeped her out. Not that she believed in spirits or ghosts, but there was an odd feeling in the gallery, the same in the Egyptian and Greek wings, but stronger here.
The emergency lighting made the glass cases glow, and an object in one of the cases caught her eye, winking in the darkness. A set of daggers drew her forward as if pulled by a string on a windup toy, and before she knew what she was doing, Mellie found her fingers touching the glass, mesmerized by the wicked-looking blades.
Whoever owned these must have been a warrior, not only strong and undefeated in battle but kind and just. The type of man who’d only ever loved one woman his whole life. What would it have been like to be loved by a man like that?
There was a crash, then another, and the skylight above her head shattered, a huge tree limb from one of the old trees hitting the roof, sending pieces of the skylight and debris raining down, bouncing off the cases like icicles hitting the ground. Mellie covered her head and cowered next to the base of the case. The downpour drenched her as the thunder cracked across the sky, the floor rumbled, and lightning arced inside the building as she went sliding across the floor, screaming as the walls shook.
Lightning swirled around her like one of those static electricity balls in the kids’ section, the energy inside changing colors when the kids ran their hands over the surface. Deep within the storm, Mellie swore she heard voices, smelled smoke, blood, and death. When the crescendo died down and it was silent once again, except for the whistling of the wind as it blew in through the skylight, she peeked out between her arms. Why hadn’t the alarm gone off?
Something cold pressed against her jeans, sending shivers down her bare arms. Looking down, she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. The daggers were lying on the floor beside her, the case across the room shattered, glass all around the floor. There were cracks in the walls and other cases had been destroyed—a toppled suit of armor was haphazardly strewn across the floor, the head in one corner still spinning, sending crazy laughter bubbling up.
Mellie reached out, touching the hilt of one of the daggers as pain lanced up her arm, blue light flowing through her as she involuntarily curled her hand around the hilt. In the blinding light, she caught a glimpse of crimson, and then there was nothing but darkness.