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“It’s fine,” I said again, hoping to ease Zee’s concern. “It’s this way.” I hoped . . . and set off in a new direction. The aisles had to lead somewhere. We couldn’t have wandered too far off the main pathways. The store wasn’t a subdimensional portal to a mirror realm that looked exactly like ours but happened to be devoid of all life . . . That wasn’t likely . . . Right?
“Where is everyone?” Zee asked, whispering now.
Maybe walking aimlessly wasn’t a great idea. I stopped by a shelf of coffee mugs. “Try your phone.”
“Oh, fuck, yeah.” He pulled his phone from the pocket of his little shorts. “No signal.”
“Store closing in five minutes.”
“Ugh.” He frowned and turned on the spot, looking around us. We were lost in a maze of blue and yellow mugs and bowls. “Imma take a look ahead,” he said. “Wait here. Do not move.”
“Yeah, but—”
He poofed away, leaving me to huff a sigh. The last time he and Victor had told me to stay I’d been stalked by a robot murder dog. This store wasn’t Reynard Technologies, but there was something creepy about the place, especially when empty.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and aimlessly studied the different mugs.
Victor must have noticed we were missing by now. He’d be looking for us. This was just some silly mix-up with the arrows, and we’d be back in the right aisle at any moment.
Zee poofed back. “So . . . I didn’t find an arrow, or a way out—everything looks the same. But I did find this.” He showed me his phone’s screen and what looked like four jagged grooves carved into a drywall.
“What’s that?”
“I know exactly what that is.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket. “That is a fuckin’ neon sign that says”—he swept his hands through the air—“Leave Now! Do not pass Go. Do not collect Daddy Vampire. Get the fuck out!”
We had been trying to do that. “Okay. But what is it?”
“It’s claws, Kitten. Big claws!” He raised both his hands and bent his fingers, showing off the shiny nails—also known as claws. But even his looked small compared to whatever creature had made the gouges in the wall.
“Oh.” It didn’t have to mean anything bad. “Maybe it’s old, and they didn’t get around to decorating that part of the store?”
“They left fuck-off ginormous claw marks in the walls so human spawn can get their daily dose of nightmare fuel?”
“Wait, that was in the kids’ section?”
“Right over a cutesy crib.”
I winced—“Yikes”—and started walking again. “Can’t you just poof outside and find someone?”
“I would, but nothing is where it’s supposed to be, and I haven’t found an outside wall. Even if I did, I’m not sure what I’d be poofing into on the other side. Everything feels fucked-up.”
“Yeah.” It was definitely time to double our efforts into leaving.
“This store is now closed. Have a good night.”
We hurried on, jogging but not running. Running might attract whatever had left those claw marks.
Everything was going to be fine. There would be a way out. The store couldn’t go on forever.
Halloween hadn’t been that long ago—another strange human custom. Humans did all sorts of weird things for Halloween, such as dress themselves as skeletons and pretend they were being chased by axe murderers. Zee’d had a great time dressed in black and purple leather while wielding an axe and stalking the hotel’s corridors, until we’d gotten complaints that his performance had been a bit too realistic. So maybe those claw marks had been left over from their Halloween decorations?
The aisle ended up ahead. We’d take a right and be back on the arrows. I was sure of it.
Zee’s pace quickened. He turned at the end of the shelf. “It’s probably right around this—” And stopped dead. I plowed into him, teetered over someone sleeping on the floor, and grabbed Zee’s arm to keep from falling.
“Woah, there . . .” Zee scowled at the sleeping form. “Hey lady, we’re walkin’ here.”
The person didn’t move. Or respond.
