to let go of the fantasy that he put in my head and the implied tragedy he left there.
I search, pushing past the other dancers, my detective instincts on full alert for some reason. I think back to the moment I saw his face. There was something there. That bit of recognition might’ve been more.
And then I see the back of his head. He waves his hands as he talks to another man in a tux about his same height. It almost looks as if they are arguing, so I keep walking. Slower now. Taking it all in. The cathedral, the dancers, the music, the stained glass. I have that vision in my head of the debutante ball he put there, still clouding my senses. It all seems rather too romantic, considering what has happened today. Someone peeks out around Case Reider and I stop dead.
That face. I know that face. And this time it’s more than just a slight bit of intuition. It’s…
A soft kiss across my neck.
A dark place with lights and technology.
A muddy road and rain.
He looks me straight in the eyes, looks away, but his lips move and then Case Reider turns around and looks at me too. An instant later the other man turns and walks out the open back door of the cathedral, where two of Thomas Brooks’ doormen stand watch in their matching outfits. They seem militaristic in their uniforms, almost Secret Service in the way their attention focuses on the events before them.
But they ignore the stranger. Case makes his way towards me and I towards him, and when we meet a few feet apart, he’s stuttering excuses. “I’m sorry, I just—”
“Excuse me,” I say, pushing past him. “I need to talk to someone.”
I walk through the doors, the men on either side giving me only a brief glance, and when I check over my shoulder to see if Case Reider is following, he’s disappeared.
“Hmm,” I say to myself as I lift my elaborate skirts and descend the stone stairs that lead out to an expansive garden with tall hedges. It’s a cool night, and there are only a few couples milling about, but I hear laughter coming from the other side of the hedges and stop in front of a sign explaining what it is.
A maze.
I look around for the stranger I instinctively recognized, but he’s nowhere to be found. The back garden has a stone wall around it twelve feet high, at least. And the gate is locked, per instructions. So there is only one possible place he might be hiding.
I find the entrance and head into the maze.
Chapter Sixteen - Lincoln
“Dancing with her, Case? Really? What are you trying to do, undo fifteen fucking years of luck in the span of three minutes?”
“Hey, relax. I was just trying to feel her out. See how much she knows.”
I lean to the side a little and give her a quick check. “Fuck, she’s coming.”
“Just play it cool, man. And call me tonight and tell me how it goes.”
“Right,” I say, as Case chuckles. “Asshole.” We’re in a lot of trouble. I can feel it. All the shit I’ve been pushing away is about to knock me back on my ass.
I turn and rub my temple as I head out the back door, willing the headache that’s building to go away. There’s no way out from the garden. I know this place better than Thomas. I was the one who designed it back when we were still in school. I didn’t know what they were gonna use it for until it was too late.
I think that was the moment I turned. Walking back through the quad after finals. The maze was supposed to be used for animals. A test, that’s what they told me. For animals, they said. But they ran us through the maze. We were the animals. More than a dozen went in and only three came out.
Me, Thomas, and Case in that order.
Thomas brushed past my shoulder as we walked through the Prodigy School doors, damaged even more at the end than we were going in, trying our best to pretend that shit didn’t just happen.
“It was a good design,” he said. “And hey, you knew it better than the rest of us. So good job on being first. But brothers don’t let
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Leigh Bale
MR. PINK-WHISTLE INTERFERES
Alastair Reynolds