“Tell it to me,” he says. “Let’s hear this clue.”
I don’t know if I should drag this man into this, or how much I can trust him with. But in a way, he’s already involved, and that wasn’tmydoing. Something keeps bringing me back to him. First the cat. Then the questions. And the voice. I clear my throat and, feeling a little foolish, repeat the first four lines on the card. “‘When dusk is high and sun is low, the icon shines and stakes will grow.’”
He listens intently and gives me a wink when I’m done. “That’s it?”
“Essentially,” I reply, leaving out the creepy instructions to bend shadows. “There was something else about sunset.”
He nods. “Sure. When ‘sun is low.’ Makes sense.”
I purse my lips. “I thought the shining icon would be in a church, or maybe the structure itself, but…”
He shrugs. “Well, an icon just means something of great and singular cultural significance. It doesn’t have to be religious.”
“Right.” I feel stupid.
“I mean, take this city for example,” he continues. “Seattle’s greatest icon is the Space Needle. It’s like the Eiffel Tower for Paris. An instantly recognizable landmark. Neither has anything to do with religion.”
My hand drops to the counter. “That’s it,” I whisper.
Levi gives me a strange look.
“Holy shit, that’s it! ‘The icon shines…’ You can watch the sunset from the observation deck. I remember reading an articleabout it a couple of years ago when they renovated and swapped the security caging with outward-leaning glass.” I’m so elated and relieved I could kiss him.
“Consider that tip free of charge,” he says, grinning.
“Wait.” I glance out the window where the light is casting golden. “What time is it?”
Levi glances at his register. “Almost seven. Why?”
“I’ve got to go,” I stammer, then impulsively reach across the counter to squeeze his hand. “Thank you!” I yell as I race to the door and out toward my car. Parking will be a bitch, and I need every minute if I’m going to make it in time.
But somehow, I find a spot without a hitch, as if someone’s been holding it for me. And after buying a ticket, I catch the golden elevator up to the observation deck feeling a bit like Charlie in the chocolate factory. My heart hammers the entire forty-five seconds, and I don’t need the voice to tell me that I’m finally in the right place. I know it, deep in my core.
The doors open onto the top floor, where a small crowd of tourists is milling about. I circle slowly, scanning faces, expecting to turn a corner, to see everyone part to reveal the same woman from the other night. But it’s peaceful here, the smooth contours giving nothing away, and I’m the only one dressed in black. I push past a clump of people to the outside, where nothing waits between me and the city below but twenty thousand square feet of glass. She will be out here, I think. But I make my way around the entire building, checking every bench, every head of dark hair, only to arrive back where I started.
Something inside me sinks, but there’s still one floor I haven’t checked.
I find the stairs and make my way to the lower deck, letting the rotating floor pull me in circles, but there are no black-clad figures here either, no one out of place except me. I look out the thick sheets of glass, watch the sun melt into the sky, throwing swaths of pink and orange. The rotating floor carries me around and around, my life a repeating loop I can’t seem to get off, adisappointment in the making. I haven’t the courage to step away, to admit defeat, to face the ride back down to my empty car.
I watch as the sunset bakes the city gold, leaving a dusky awning in its wake. For a second, I think I feel the prickle of tears as my chance at more fades into the Pacific with the light—more knowing, more power, more magic, more living. But I don’t let them fall. I’m an old pro at denying my heart its due. And really, what did I expect? A savior? I should know better. If my grandfather taught me anything, it’s that saviors will always let us down. We can only save ourselves.
With a resigned slump, I catch the elevator down and walk to the fountain just ahead, sit along the concrete with the water dancing at my back. My eyes crawl up the tower before me, awed despite the letdown, as I watch what little daylight is left fade to a lavender haze. Twilight is upon us. Soon, night will fall.
A shiver runs through me. I remember my midnight trek through the park only three nights ago, the feeling of being alone but also being watched. How close it was to beingseen, something I haven’t felt in a very long time. Not even with Roger. My mind flits to Levi, wanting him to see me in ways Roger never did.
It’s in that still, small moment that something magical happens. The projector lights around the Space Needle come on, sending streams of white up its legs and the skyline level, igniting the rim of the viewing floors and the roof, setting the whole structure aglow like moonlight.
The words on the note card click intoplace—When dusk is high and sun is low, the icon shines…
The icon is shining before my very eyes. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it! When I first came to Seattle, the Space Needle was an anchor point for me, but after so many years living here, it began to fade into the wallpaper of my life. It became a backdrop, a piece of an intricate set I no longer noticed as I hit my marks.
The next line blazes through my mind:…and stakes will grow.
I thought it was all over after the sun had set, that I’d blown my chance, gotten something wrong. But the truth is, my opportunityhas only just arrived. I glance around, but it’s a gentle night falling, and no one of significance is near. So, if the Fathom aren’t coming, then what am I supposed to do?
You’ve just one chance / to shadows bend, / and show us darkness / is your friend,goes the rest of the verse. I look up at the brilliant paragon before me. They can’t mean…
My mind catches on a memory—a warning, a lost opportunity—of the last time I pulled the darkness close to save myself. I haven’t done such a thing since.
