Chapter Twenty-Three #2
“You wanna watch a cartoon, Mr. Pax?” Amos asked.
“Come in,” Josie said. “I was going to make coffee.”
Pax followed Amos into the living room and sat on a large green velvet couch. Amos clambered up next to him.
“You wanna watch ’Pidey and Fwends?”
Boy, did he ever.
Pax had now read eighty comic books and watched twenty hours of programming concerning Spider-Man.
He had several questions regarding this show, which purported to follow Spider-Man’s childhood.
Specifically, what was behind the introduction of Dino-Web powers in season three?
How did dinosaurs fit in with superhero mythology?
Amos expertly clicked through the symbols and categories on his television remote until he found his favorite episode. Though it happened to be one from season two, Pax was content to watch and leave his dino questions for later.
“What do you take in your coffee?” Josie stood in the archway to the living room. Her hair was pulled back tightly, and she wore no makeup.
She looked young and fragile.
Like she was ready to run.
Damn.
“I shall return, Mr. Amos,” Pax said. “Would you like a drink as well?”
“No thanks.” Amos barely reacted, transfixed by the television screen.
Josie cleared her throat and sent Pax a speaking look. He sighed and left the television behind.
In the kitchen, a blue glass bowl filled with lilacs sat on the table and the curtains were now red-and-white-checked gingham.
“Have a seat.” Josie gestured to a wooden chair and Pax obeyed.
A creamer in the shape of a cow was already on the table next to a sugar bowl in the shape of a strawberry.
She set down a mug emblazoned with the words Male Tears in front of him and Pax took his time inhaling the marvelous scent of fire and earth.
“Thank you. This is delightful. We do not have coffee on my world,” he said, spooning in enough sugar to make it palatable—about six spoonfuls—then taking a sip and nodding his thanks.
“Don’t leave—” he said.
“We have to talk—” Josie started.
They broke off at the same moment, staring at each other through the silence. Josie took a sip of her coffee.
Wait.
Wait, what the…
“Did you drink your coffee without sugar and milk?” he asked.
“Mmmm.” Josie blinked at his shock, as if what she’d done were completely normal. “I take mine black.”
Pax gaped. Perhaps he’d misjudged her this whole time? Perhaps Josie was a masochist or born without taste buds.
“Why?” he asked. “Why would you drink something that disgusting?”
Obviously, she thought he was joking, because she took another sip, pushed the mug away, and leaned back on the chair, assessing him. The purple shadows under her eyes hinted the coffee had been a necessity and not a whim.
“Last night I had a dream.”
Pax waited while Josie gathered her thoughts. He, too, had had a dream last night. He could tell from the exhaustion written on her face that Josie’s dream hadn’t been nearly as pleasurable as his dream.
“Is there…” Josie lowered her voice on the off chance Amos was listening to them instead of Spider-Man.
Doubtful. Spider-Man already occupied a huge space in Pax’s brain. How could it not hold Amos’s entire attention?
“Is there a huge serpent on the sixth floor?”
Pax choked on his coffee.
Mortified, he took the Buzz Lightyear towel Josie handed him and wiped up the liquid that had come out of his nose while examining her face.
“You…I don’t…” He coughed again. “A huge serpent, you say?”
Josie nodded, appearing calm. Calmer than Pax might have expected given how little time she’d had to accept the reality of Number Five and the mostly benign nature of the guests she’d met so far.
“I don’t know.”
She frowned. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“The sixth-floor guests are accorded a great deal of privacy.” Pax leaned back, then forward, trying to find the words to explain the nature of the sixth floor. “The only person who knows for certain is Maddy. It’s her magic keeping them docile while they reside within a Wayside.”
Beneath the heavy odor of the lilacs was the faint scent of dried lavender and eucalyptus hand cream. Josie had folded her hands and set them on her thigh. Pax gave in to an urge and reached over to take one of her soft hands in his.
Aside from a small gasp at the contact of skin to skin, Josie said nothing, but she let him keep hold of her and squeezed his fingers in consent.
For a moment, Pax allowed himself a heady peace.
He felt for her pulse beneath his fingertip and marveled at how incredibly soft yet at the same time how marvelously strong this woman was in a way only women could be—a strength forged through trials of the heart rather than physical exertion.
Trials Pax did not know if he was equipped to pass through.
“So,” Josie said. “The serpent I talked to…”
Pax’s hand spasmed in fear and he pulled her hand to his chest. “You spoke with him?”
“Her,” she said, eyes wide.
Damn. He’d scared her.
“She said she was sparing me because of Amos and I needed to find a cure to what’s making Number Five sick.”
The list of entities who might appear to a human as a large serpent was vast.
“How did she entice you into her chamber?” he asked. “Did you hear a noise or the notes to a familiar song?”
Josie shook her head. “It was a dream. I went to bed and woke up in front of her.”
Likely a summoning. Not as bad as having a sixth-floor guest awake and roaming the hallways, but not a good sign, either.
Pax rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Even the gods are impatient. Why will no one give Number Five the time to fill at her own pace?”
When Josie slipped her hand from his, he opened his eyes to see an expression of confusion on her face.
“Didn’t you say these guests had places they needed to be?” she asked. “If they paid a steep price to get to whatever their destination, it makes sense they are impatient. With Number Five’s tank still empty—”
“But it isn’t!” Pax exclaimed.
Josie blinked and Pax smacked himself in the forehead.
“I haven’t told you?” he asked, then continued before she could answer. “I haven’t told you. The golden needle has moved. This is, we are…you are working.”
This didn’t elicit the response Pax had been expecting.
Well, he might have been expecting Josie to jump up and wrap her arms around him and cry, You’ve saved us! or something equally laudatory, and kiss him.
Who could blame him?
That was a reasonable expectation for a knight to have when in the company of a lady.
“It moved?” she said. Instead of joyful, her voice sounded accusatory. “When were you going to tell me this? When did it move? I could have told the serpent, and she might not have wanted to eat me.”
Pax opened his mouth, but his brain was stuck on that last part.
“It doesn’t matter,” Josie said sharply, as though she knew where his brain might catch. “Did this just slip your mind?”
She made the gesture with her fingers he hadn’t figured out but was certain did not mean anything good.
“Yes,” he admitted. “Yes, I’ve been distracted by Naliti blowing up the science museum and Raphe going on about blood sacrifices and everyone wanting Number Five to be fixed yesterday and the endless debates over mini clover versus grass.”
“Blood sacrifice?”
Shit.
Pax bit his top lip. This was going cockeyed. Why wasn’t Number Five stepping in to help him like she’d done before? Where were the roses? Where were the dimmed lights and tipping floorboards?
“Ummmm.” Pax pulled at the collar of his shirt. “You see—”
“Shhhh.” Josie held up a finger and cocked her head, listening for Amos. Pax waited, expecting to soon hear the boy ask for another episode or the tinny, high voices of Spidey’s friends coming from the television.
Instead, there was silence.
Something was wrong.
Amos was quiet.
Too quiet.
Of course, it could be the boy had turned off the television and was reading a book instead.
Only, if the sixth-floor guests were reaching out in their sleep…what if one of them…?
Whatever Josie saw in Pax’s face caused her to blanch, and she ran to the living room, one hand out toward the wall as if to prop herself up if her legs gave out.
Pax maneuvered his body out from behind the table without knocking anything over and followed Josie into the living room.
The room sat empty.
“Amos?” she called, but there was no strength in her voice.
Pax rushed to Amos’s bedroom and threw open the door.
This room sat empty as well.
Down the hallway Josie called her son’s name as she searched the bathroom and her bedroom, but Pax felt in his bones she wouldn’t find him.
A terrible, terrible thought occurred to him.
What if Amos hadn’t wandered off?
What if he’d been taken?