Footsteps echoed from somewhere indistinct, accompanied by the drone of male voices. I instantly let the lighter go out.
Thus followed a rather unwieldy series of events in which I knocked into Lewis, who tried to support me and dropped a pick with a clatter. His hand landed, rather pointedly, on my left breast, which, though it happened to be the superior breast, was still mortifying. I stifled a startled sound and, in trying to grab the door handle to support myself, clawed him in the face.
“For all that is holy—cut your nails!” Lewis hissed.
“Watch your hands!”
Before our less-than-amiable banter could continue, my hand closed on the door handle.
Memories leapt out at me. I saw a hand, an arm reaching up to the silhouette of Dr. Maddeson. They had gone through, but not returned yet.
The footsteps, now clearly coming from beyond the door, closed in.
“Cloakroom!” I whispered.
“I cannot see!”
I snatched his hand. Together we scuttled back down the hallway, I lifted a divided section of the counter, and pulled him through.
“…your research,” Detective Supford’s voice drifted to us, accompanied by the opening of the door. Light flooded the hallway and cut across the countertop.
Lewis and I dropped down, side by side, behind the counter. Just out of reach of the light, we held our breaths.
“If your assistant has already retired for the night, perhaps you can give me a list of what you require?” Supford asked.
“Of course,” Dr. Maddeson replied. “Let us go up to my office. The artifact is more than safe in the vaults until the Grand General arrives, I assure you.”
The Grand General himself was on his way? That was a nightmarish thought.
“I appreciate your willingness to help, Professor,” Supford said. I picked up something in his tone, something displeased but resigned, and wondered if he was glad for the Grand General’s imminent arrival. “And your discretion.”
The light drew nearer, shrinking our little haven of shadow. We hunkered closer, our earlier conflict forgotten in the need to stay hidden. Lewis’s hand brushed my arm, but only to draw his pistol and hold it, ready, beside his head.
We listened until their footsteps mounted the main staircase, passed out into the foyer, and faded away.
“We do not have time to warn Pretoria,” Lewis said quietly.
I took a breath to think. “Agreed. She can manage Supford.”
Lewis unfolded and offered me a hand, which I took. At the same time, I noticed a scratch on his clean-shaven jaw.
“I am sorry I scratched you,” I offered quietly as I found my feet and let him go.
“I am sorry I… ah, patted you,” he replied, voice equally low.
I waved the conversation aside. “The lock.”
“The lock,” he affirmed.
We returned to the door markedPrivate. Lewis made quick work of the lock this time, aided by the lighter once more, and preceded me down a dim staircase beyond.
True darkness wrapped around us. Lewis slowed, taking the lighter and holding it before himself, but my Eventide eyes required no adjustment.
At the bottom of the steps I took the lead. We set off at a brisk pace, passing room after room and turn after turn. The belly of the museum was old, at least as old as the citadel, and the chaos of stones that formed the walls spoke of even more ancient ruins pillaged in the construction. Still, hefty cabling for electricity laced along the walls and here and there a darkened bulb protruded from the ceiling.
The hallway abruptly ended in a huge iron door, set with a large tumbler and an iron bar.
When I touched a finger to the tumbler, I found the memory of Dr. Maddeson’s enthusiastic spinning of the dial, the brush of his sleeve, and a whispered exchange with Supford.
