"They can't find you." Jeremy rubbed goosebumps from my arms. "I won't let them. You know that."
I nodded, but kept hearing fresh noises from beyond, grunts and whimpers, the sounds ping-ponging in my skull, refusing to leave, throwing up images…
I started to squirm again, then caught myself and stopped.
"Here," Jeremy whispered. He shifted me forward and took something from his jacket. His notepad, the pen stored in the coils. He flipped open the pad, past a few pages of notes to a clean sheet. He drew four lines-two horizontal and two vertical. Then he shifted me again, until I was leaning back against him, head in the dip of his shoulder as his chin rested on my shoulder, looking over it. He made an X in the center square and handed me the pen.
I stared at the paper, the layout he'd drawn so familiar I should recognize it, but my brain refused to work, still filled with unwanted sounds and unwelcome images. I blinked… and gave a silent laugh, seeing a tic-tac-toe board. I put on my O.
Every kid over the age of eight knows the trick to the game, but I was so preoccupied it took me a few rounds to remember how to win.
Once I remembered that, of course, the game lost its challenge. So he switched to hangman, starting with a four-letter animal. Got that one pretty quickly, and he doodled a wolf for me, then drew out a fresh game. On it went, with Jeremy challenging me with ever tougher puzzles and making me smile with his doodles and intricate hanged-man sketches.
The sounds beyond seemed to fade into background noise, like an annoying neighbor playing his porn video with the volume jacked. My world narrowed to this little cubby, to the warmth of Jeremy's arms, stretched around me as he wrote, to the whispers that tickled my ear and vibrated down my back, to the scratch of his cheek against mine as he shifted, to the spicy smell of his breath-tacos or burritos grabbed on the run. I leaned against him, solved his puzzles and laughed at his drawings
Who else would do this for me, play hangman while an S and M cult was in full swing only yards away? Who else would know it was exactly what I needed-a distraction so innocent, so innocuous, that it couldn't help but make what was happening out there seem equally harmless?
I didn't even notice that the ritual had ended, I was so engrossed in solving a hangman puzzle. The Disciples' conversation was sparse and subdued now, no one in the mood to discuss dishwashers. Chains rattled as they were undipped. A hoarse voice asked for the wine. Chalices clinked as someone gathered them.
I went on to the next puzzle: a nine-letter American city. Minutes later, the basement light clicked off and the puzzle went dark.
The voices and footsteps receded as Jeremy put away his notepad. I slid from his lap, found the flashlight and turned it on, then picked up my shoes and slung them over my arm.
I whispered, "Do we wait for them to leave or try to find that alternate exit?"
"The latter is probably safer. Do you remember where you left off searching?"
I nodded, and slipped from the box maze. As I crossed the main area, I looked around it, ignoring the flecks of blood on the walls as I searched for the ghost. As unpleasant as he was, I might be able to blackmail him into telling us where to find that door, by threatening to "report" him. But there was no sign of the ghost. Typical. Always there when you don't need them, never when you do.
I found my place along the wall and resumed searching. I moved aside one box stack myself, then hit an immovable crate. Glancing toward Jeremy, I saw him crouched beside a dark square inset in the wall just on the other side of the ladder.
"Is that-?" I whispered, stopping as he heaved on the cover.
The crack of breaking metal. He pulled back the cover and stuck his head inside. I headed toward him.
As I neared the ladder, a foot appeared from the bottom of the chute. I stumbled back. Jeremy spun, seeing the foot appear and waving for me to take cover. I swung the flashlight along the nearest wall, stopping at the first stack tall enough to hide me. I turned off the light and raced forward, my hands out, measuring the distance and praying I was right.
My fingertips touched cardboard just as the main light came on. I swung behind the stack, my pulse racing, waiting for a shout.
When footsteps headed toward the other wall instead, along with a deep mutter of "where did I leave that?," I could breathe again. I hadn't been seen. Now I just had to it relax while Botnick found whatever he left behind-
A shadow appeared across the floor, moving slowly, and I realized my mistake. I was hidden from the stairs, but not from the other half of the room. I glanced over my shoulder. Behind me was another box, on my other side. If I could wedge between the two, the shadows should hide me. I backed up into the gap. Too narrow. Using my hip and shoulder, I eased the one box over-
It scraped along the concrete, the soft whisper as loud as a shot. I froze. So did the shadow, now halfway into view.
"Hello?" Botnick called.
As he spoke, I eased back into the gap, wiggling and squeezing until I was-
Slap, slap, slap.
I looked down to see my dangling shoes swinging against the box.
ESCAPE HATCH
I GRABBED MY SWINGING SHOES with my free hand. A low chuckle sounded right in front of me, and I slowly lifted my head to see a bearded man standing less than ten feet away.
"Well, hello," Botnick said, his eyes locked on mine. "Come for the meeting? You're too late, but I'm sure I could arrange a private lesson."
He stepped forward. Eyes still on his, I resisted the urge to shrink back and flipped the shoes around so I gripped them just below the heel. Four-inch spikes. Maybe they were good for something after all.
Botnick kept strolling forward, in no rush, savoring the fear in my eyes. I let him have that, widening them and inching back, bringing my shoes up to my chest as if clutching them in fear, getting them higher, ready to-
A blur behind Botnick. The man flew from his feet as Jeremy swung him in a head lock. Botnick gasped for air, clawing at Jeremy's arm. Jeremy stood there, face impassive. When he tightened his grip, Botnick went wild, flailing and gasping. Jeremy relaxed his hold on Botnick's windpipe. Then he cupped his free hand under Botnick's jaw.
"Scream and I'll snap your neck. Understood?" Jeremy's tone was soft and even, like a patient teacher warning a difficult child.
When Botnick didn't respond, he tightened his grip on the man's jaw. Botnick's eyes flew open, wide with pain and something like excitement. He mouthed "understood." Jeremy relaxed his hold.
"It's true, then," Botnick said hoarsely before Jeremy could speak. "About the magic."
My gaze met Jeremy's, but he looked as confused as I.
"Your strength," Botnick went on. "That's not…human. You're one of them. It's true about the magic. They've found the key." His eyes gleamed with a fervor bordering on the religious, and I knew that the excitement I'd seen hadn't been a reaction to the pain, but to the cause of it-a show of supernatural strength.
Botnick continued. "You-they-your group. They got my message, didn't they? That's why you're here. To see whether I'm worthy."
Even standing behind Botnick, Jeremy let his face betray nothing. But in the pause that followed, I knew what he was thinking-working through his options, deciding how best to handle this.
"How did you learn about us?" Jeremy asked after a moment.
"Pillow talk." A small laugh from Botnick. "It has been the undoing of many a man. In this case, it was a shared lover. A particularly attractive occult aficionado." His gaze traveled to me. "You know the type. Not terribly skilled, but eager to learn and pleasant to teach. One of your members let a few things slip, presumably to impress her, and she passed them on to me, for the same purpose."
"What did she tell you?"
"That you'd breached the wall. Discovered true magic."