"You are the one who insisted on seeing the torture chamber. I was simply answering a question of physics."
Sarah gave me a look that spoke volumes, glancing once again over my shoulder at the door before eating a bite of garlic-roasted potato. I pushed a clump of limp broccoli to the side of my plate, and rearranged a bit of hollandaise sauce more attractively around a mound of poached salmon.
Sarah looked past me again.
"For Pete's sake, will you stop that! You're making me as nervous as a cat."
"Aha!" Sarah waved her fork, bedecked with a piece of pork loin, at me. "I knew it! And you said you weren't nervous earlier when I asked you when today's trial was going to be."
"I wasn't nervous until you started looking over my shoulder every five seconds." I set down my fork and stopped pretending to enjoy the meal. "Oh, this is ridiculous. I'm letting myself get all worked up over nothing. Obviously whoever is Theo's cohort of the day has had a change of heart. So you can stop looking over my shoulder for him, because he's probably decided we're not worth what must be a sizeable outlay of money to pull off whatever scheme he's attempting."
Sarah chewed the bit of pork. "How you can sit there and deny that Theo is exactly what he says he is—"
"I deny it because it's perfectly clear he's a con man—"
"A man you think is sexy as hell—"
"Well of course I do! He is! But that doesn't excuse the fact that he's trying to pull some scheme—"
"Admit it, Portia." Sarah speared another bit of potato. "Part of the attraction he holds for you is his undeniable air of mystery, that dangerous sense of the unknown that sends shivers down your back every time he's near. No woman can turn away from that—it's a scientific fact that bad boys are completely irresistible! Give in to your inner woman and just admit he chimes your bells because of what he is."
I pushed back from the table, tossing down my napkin. "You're impossible when you're in that sort of a mood. You're sure you don't want me to go with you tonight?"
"No, you take the evening off. You wouldn't enjoy sitting in a graveyard with the clairaudients, anyway."
I smiled instead of giving her a piece of my mind about the so-called skill of recording the voices of the dead, and mentioned that I'd amuse myself instead with a walk around the countryside.
"That's a great idea—your mind will be refreshed by the walk for the next trial."
My smile turned wry. "Whatever. Have fun in the graveyard."
"Maybe we should call Theo," Sarah mused to her dinner as I headed out of the room. "Maybe he would know what's up with the trial…"
Once in my room, I stripped off the only other dress I'd brought with me on the trip, shaking my head at myself for dressing up just because I expected to see Theo sometime during the day. I pulled out a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, garb much more suitable for tramping around the countryside than the bright dress I'd put on that morning, wondering as I did if Theo liked red.
I hesitated as I pulled a pair of tennis shoes from the wardrobe, glancing down at the black silk-and-lace teddy I was wearing, my mind shying away from the reason I'd put it on that morning. "Oh, for heaven's sake, it's just underwear, not a world crisis," I told myself after an indecisive minute, turning around to grab my jeans. "Just get dressaieeee!"
The floors in England seemed to be particularly prone to non-traditional behavior, for the boards that had served so solidly beneath my feet suddenly opened up into a hole, through which I fell in startled fear. "What the…ooof!"
"Good evening. My name is Noelle. I'm a Guardian, and I'll be acting as the proctor for your third trial." I had fallen what seemed to be a deceptively short distance, landing on a stone floor with a thump that stung my ankles, and jarred my teeth painfully. "Erm…do you know that you're just wearing a teddy?"
Someone had set a couple of portable camp lights on a shelf in an arched inset in the wall, the light pooling on the floor in front of me. The voice came from behind. I spun around, my eyes widening as I took in the large stone sarcophagus upon which a young, red-haired woman sat.
"I have shoes," I said, holding out my tennis shoes, wincing to myself at just how inane that sounded. "I was in the middle of getting dressed. I wasn't expected to be sucked down to…where exactly are we?"
"Crypt," Noelle said, giving me a rueful smile as she slid off the top of the sarcophagus. "Sorry about the bad timing, but I've had a day from Abaddon—literally!—and couldn't get to the trial until now. Oh well, it'll soon be over, and you can go back to your dressing. Why don't you put on your shoes, and we'll get started."
I walked over to her and pressed my fingers to her shoulder. She certainly felt real. Which could only mean one thing.
Her eyebrows rose. "You look confused. Is there a problem?"
There were so many problems I couldn't begin to frame them in my mind, let alone explain to her the trouble I had with accepting the fact that I'd just been teleported to some unknown crypt.
"No," I answered in what sounded like a choked voice. I cleared my throat and tried again. "It's nothing outright insanity wouldn't explain."
"Oh, good." She smiled again, and gestured toward the center of the crypt. On the floor, an elaborate circle with several symbols had been drawn upon it. "Shoes?"
"Of course," I said, putting on my tennis shoes. "The insanity isn't going to be complete without the idea of me standing around in nothing but lingerie and tennies."
"It's a very pretty teddy," Noelle said, walking around to the back. "I like the straps on the side. Oh, it's not a thong. Good on you. I hate thongs—they're always getting places they shouldn't be."
I shook my head at myself, wondering if the rest of my life—now that I'd clearly gone quite, quite insane—would follow this pattern, or if some kind friend or family member would see to it that I got the mental help I needed.
"Ready?"
Noelle's voice brought me out of a reverie where I spent endless years learning how to write with my feet because my arms were confined by a straitjacket. "Sure, why not? I've got nothing to lose, right?"
She made a face, and looked down the room to a doorway that lurked in the darkness. "Well…let's just say that you really need to get this one right. Right. Champion, you may enter the room."
It didn't surprise me in the least (one of the perks of now being deranged) when Theo strolled into the room. He stopped after a few steps, pursing his lips as he looked me over from toes to head.
"That's…a new look for you," he finally said, having taken his time in the perusal.
"I didn't have a thing to wear," I said with a firm smile. "Besides, what does it matter? I'm just along for the ride now."
"I like it, regardless." His gaze flickered between my breasts and my face. "What ride would that be?"
"The highway to dementia. Want to come along?"
He sighed and only just kept from rolling his eyes. "You are not insane, Portia."
"No, of course not. It's perfectly ordinary to be teleported to a crypt, so I can stand around in my undies waiting to…" I turned to Noelle. "What exactly am I waiting to do?"
"Defeat a demon," she said, stepping backward until she was in the shadow of the crypt room. "You may begin…now!"
I don't know what I expected a demon to look like—probably a short, squat red-skinned beast with horns, cloven feet, and a pointy tail—but the teenage boy who appeared in the circle did not scream demon to me.
Until the little shit opened his mouth. "Nice tits," the boy leered, reaching out as if he was going to honk them.