Sylvie eyed the shabby exterior and graffiti-covered walls. A rat scurried out of a crack.
“Maybe VIP means something different in French,” whispered Georgia.
“No kidding,” said Flora.
Guy waved the card.
The neon lights flickered overhead, lighting up the dingy stairs.
Sylvie had imagined the competition arena as a grand building, with pillars made of fondant and archways covered in gold leaf. This was far from spectacular.
Bits of garbage littered the floor. A musty smell that Sylvie suspected was urine hung in the air.
“The entrance is down here.” Guy pointed to the tunnel where a rat had just made off with a chip bag.
Great!Not only had Sylvie played right into Bass’s hands, but now, if she wanted to stop Flammé from unleashing a curse, she had to go through …Pee Central!
Maybe There Is Such a Thing as Too Much Chocolate
THE STRANGE SOUND OF SQUEAKS AND GROANS ECHOEDthroughout the musty tunnel.
“You think those are rats or ghosts?” asked Flora.
“Honestly, at this point, I’m kind of hoping for ghosts,” said Sylvie.
“Eee-ooo,” said Georgia.
Sylvie assumed she was saying,Me, too.It was hard to tell because Georgia was now plugging her nose.
“Last year, Belinda got a private tour of the competition arena, and a year’s supply of FizzleFott’s sodas,” said Flora. “I’m getting an abandoned metro station and the return of Josephine Flammé.”
“Sorry,” said Sylvie, feeling rather guilty.
Flora shook her head. “I still can’t believe Agnes was really Flammé… . After I searched her kitchen, I told Godard she was clean! I should’ve looked harder.”
“You can’t blame yourself. She fooled everyone,” said Georgia, finally unplugging her nose.
Sylvie turned her attention to Guy, who was quietly walking next to them.
“So, you and my mom still keep in touch?” She was still trying to make sense of Julia’s warning.
“It’s been a while.” He touched his eye patch. “After the accident, she thought it was best if I kept my distance. She worried more trouble would head my way if people knew I was associating with her.”
“You mean,my momasked you to stay away?”
“Yes. One time, she made an exception, when I was in Los Angeles for a book launch… . Ironically, it was your birthday.”
“I remember,” said Sylvie, letting it all roll through her mind. She’d assumed so many things about so many people, but she’d been wrong. Maybe she was mistaken about Guy too.
A sign with silvery cobwebs clinging to it was posted in front of them.
DANGER! KEEPOUT!
Guy reached up and pushed it aside, revealing a large tattoo on his forearm.
Sylvie’s brows furrowed. “That’s the SIFT symbol… . You’re a member?”
“More than that.” Guy pulled down his sleeve, covering the tattoo. “I’m the president. They elected me last year.”
