Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Xhan unlocks the car, and Dane opens the rear door, standing back for me to get in first. I’m looking forward to sitting with him, close in the dark as Xhan navigates the streets. I might hold his hand again. What if I did?
I begin to climb in, and as I do, I see a dark lump on the back seat. The car’s interior light doesn’t quite illuminate it. I pick it up, expecting it to be a discarded hat or something, but it’s a glove of some sort.
No. It’s a hand.
It’s heavy and cold. There’s a note attached to one of the fingers with string. And the pinkie finger has a large signet ring that I’ve seen before—on Professor Marini’s hand. It looks like a Halloween prop, but I know this is no practical joke.
My mind can’t process what I’m seeing.
I drop it and rear back, falling backward out of the car into Dane, my heart pounding.
“A hand!” I blurt as Dane catches me. “In there. Severed!”
“Shit,” Dane says, pulling us both back and slamming the door. He darts a look around the car, around the street.
“Babe!” Luca yells at Xhan, who is about to get in the car. I shake my hand in the air as though that will wipe away the memory of the hand’s clammy skin.
Luca and Xhan slam their car doors, and for a moment, none of us know what to do. Dane hasn’t let go of me. We all scan the street again to see if anyone is waiting.
“Dane,” Luca says, jerking his head toward the car. Dane releases me, and he and Luca approach the back doors.
They both open the rear doors and cautiously look in the back seat. Xhan and I move close together, watching the street.
“How bad is it?” Xhan asks.
“Bad,” Luca says. Dane climbs in. There’s a long silence as they examine the hand. When they get out and shut their doors behind them, Luca’s holding a card.
“It’s from our friend the 1982.” He looks at Dane. “Nasty little note. It says A ‘handy’ gift to remind you what happens to other players. Drop out of the game or you’re next. He signed it.”
A shiver winds its way over my shoulders, down my spine.
“Stupid pun,” Xhan says. “Do we have any idea whose hand it is?”
“Professor Marini,” I say. My voice shakes. “It’s his signet ring.”
“The 1982 was chasing him on the train to Barcelona,” Dane explains.
“We can’t stand here and talk.” Luca grabs Xhan’s elbow and begins hurrying down the street. Dane and I follow. Dane keeps looking behind us, but no one appears.
“One body part isn’t so bad,” Luca says, and while his tone is light, it sounds forced, like he’s trying to inject levity. “Often there are more in these things.”
“Usually it’s the whole body,” Xhan says grimly.
“Four of us walking together isn’t best,” Dane says.
“Split up?” Xhan asks, and Luca nods, glancing at Dane, who nods back.
Luca and Xhan dart down a small rue. The streets, while still charming, are a little shabbier here.
Graffiti mars some walls, even as buildings are decorated with gorgeous ornamental floral bas-reliefs.
We are still in the middle of Montmartre, and I hope Dane knows Paris better than I do, because it feels like we’re just walking aimlessly.
“Are we just going to leave the hand in the car?” I say.
“For now.” The slant of his jawline is the only visible part of his face in the dark. I want to ask if Luca and Xhan have arranged their registration so their car can’t be traced back to them. My guess is yes.
Dane pulls me with him as we cross the street onto a short median and then onto the opposite side of the street. I’m all turned around, and I have no idea where we are.
“What will happen to Luca and Xhan?” I ask. “Does the 1982 know where they live too?”
“That apartment is temporary,” he says. “Their real home is in Switzerland. We can go elsewhere tonight. Xhan will be calling Araceli now to get us hotel rooms.”
I shake my head, trying to imagine a life in which you have to move apartments often—and where you need a full-time assistant to help with such sudden moves.
“Hey,” Dane says, forcing my attention back on him. He gives my hand a slight squeeze. “We’re going to be all right.”
“And after the Enigma Challenge? What then—do they keep coming?” I picture someone breaking into my office at Chessmont or into my tiny Burlingame apartment on the San Francisco peninsula. Will I ever be safe?
“No, because they won’t be trying to win a game. Xhan and Luca do other things that require heavily securing their location.” I feel his hand tense in mine, and he looks discreetly behind us. “There might be someone following us. Walk normally. I’ll figure out what to do.”
What we’ll end up doing is running, and I’m too full of rich French food and wine to run.
“No,” I say. “Stop there, under that awning.”
Dane gives me a quizzical look but goes where I’m pointing. The awning is over a closed shop, and there’s significant shadow underneath it.
“This way we can see who comes by.” I move in front of him so we blend together. My back faces the road. “You keep watch.”
His hands appear on my hips, keeping me still and in place against him.
He scans the dark road behind me, and stiffens as his attention focuses across the road.
I take care not to turn around, but I look out of the corner of my eye to see a young man dressed inconspicuously in a hoodie sauntering down the street, hands in his pockets.
Nothing amiss except the way his head is moving, his eyes roving too many places.
He’s either a tweaker or he’s looking for us. He’s going to pass us in a moment.
I shrink into Dane. I consider kissing him again, but I can’t kiss him every time someone’s watching us, or else I’ll never leave his mouth, and while the idea has serious merit, I manage to hold still.
We’re both stiff with the awful anticipation of waiting to see what the guy on the street is going to do, and I shift slightly to ease it, but his fingers on my hips halt me.
On the flimsy pretext of balance, I put my hands on his waist too.