There were footsteps, echoing in the passageway. Gruff voices and squawking radios and I could sense people near us.
“Faster, faster,” she chanted, stumbling through the near dark.
Fear coated my tongue, choked my throat. Each turn seemed to take us deeper into this labyrinth of a house.
We were trapped.
Hopelessly lost.
Victoria’s maze of secret hallways was infinite.
41
Delilah
I understood only one directive: keep Henry safe. As we fled through the hallways, my mind couldn’t even comprehend that we had a book in our hands. We were trapped in a maze of hallways that was never-ending, seemingly growing narrower, darker. More confusing. But I needed to stay focused if I was going to get us out of here without Sven the Psycho catching us.
The hallway ended—abruptly. A midnight-blue door that pulled open in one smooth, clean motion.
“I’ve got it,” I whispered over my shoulder, grinning at Henry.
Starlight flooded my eyes. The night air was startling in its crispness—so different from the old, stuffy air of the hallways. It was so exhilarating I almost didn’t see the guard, posted right outside.
I turned and was bringing my arm up with the gun when the guard kicked it from my hand.
And then Henry’s fist—sailing through the air, cracking him square on the nose.
“Motherfucker,” the guy wailed.
Henry punched him again.
I scooped up my gun in the commotion and yanked Henry’s arm before we got stuck in a fight.
“Run run run run,” I chanted, racing across the green vastness of Victoria’s lawn, the white river of the Milky Way shimmering over our heads. The forest appeared at the edges of her luxurious pool—the same one Henry and I had run through not two weeks ago.
The one with the trip wires.
I whipped out my cell and dialed 3 for Dorran, barking the word “now” into the phone. There was the puff of a silencer, and a bullet whizzed into the grass at our feet.
With all of my weight, I pulled Henry behind the first tree, shielding him with my body, gun aimed at the ground.
I chanced a glance—saw three of the guards pointing at the woods, yelling into radios.
“Delilah,” Henry gasped. “As much as I appreciate literature, I’d prefer if we didn’t die over this book.”
“I agree with you,” I said, peeking around the trunk. “They’re only trying to scare us. I don’t think Victoria wants a shootout in her backyard during her party.”
“I don’t think she wants her Copernicus to be stolen either,” he said grimly.
“There’s tripwires that way.”
“I remember,” he replied.
Headlights beamed off of his face. Dorran, at the far edges of the mansion. The flashlights and raised voices were getting closer.
There was no more time.
“We’re running to the limo alongside the house. Not through the woods. People might see us through the windows, but that’s fine—the guards won’t shoot us in front of guests. Drop to the ground and cover your head if you need to.” He was panting, glasses askew, lugging around a heavy glass case as we ran for our lives. “I’ll protect you.”
He barely nodded his understanding before we were a blur of limbs, racing toward the safety of the limo. Shouts for real now—we were definitely being chased.
To the right of me—a wall of trees.
To the left—the red brick of Victoria’s mansion.
In front—the small glowing rectangle of the limo’s doors, swung wide open.
I was running so fast that I hit the side of the car with a bang. Grabbed Henry’s arm and hauled him first into the limo. Sven was a hundred yards away, glaring at me like I was a bug he was extremely excited to step on.
He was reaching into his holster, but my gun was up in a flash, stopping him in his tracks. His lips curled in a snarl.
“She’ll come after you,” Sven taunted.
“I’d like to see her try,” I said. Slid into the limo, slammed the door, and Dorran peeled away so fast I flew backward on the seat.
Henry and I could only stare at each other, wide-eyed and panting.
“Am I dreaming,” I gasped, “or is that the fucking book?”
I couldn’t contain my grin—even as my body rippled with tension.
“That’s it,” he said. “Or it’s at least highly likely.”
He placed it on the floor in the far corner, nestled snugly. When he did, I noticed that his knuckles were split open and bleeding.
“Henry, you’re hurt,” I said, springing to his side of the limo. He was already shedding his jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeves. He examined his broken skin with mild curiosity. I knew it was just the adrenaline, masking the pain. “Also, that wasn’t a bad hit. You knocked him right out.”
“I thought he was going to hurt you,” he said simply.
The intensity that passed through our shared gaze had my knees weak. I busied myself with the first aid kit Freya had been smart enough to stash in here. With his other hand, Henry slipped out his phone.
“This will sting,” I said, but he didn’t wince.
“You were right about the book,” he said softly.
“And you were right about the hallways.”
His slow, charming grin was contagious. Victory rushed through me, making me feel light-headed and hopeful. Dazzlingly with sheer joy. Laughter gripped me—bubbling up like a fountain. When Henry started laughing too, tears rolled from my eyes, all the weeks of tension and fear and nerves fleeing through the sound.
“Is Abe really going to murder us?” he asked, still laughing.
“We went against his orders. But we got the book back. I’d say it’s fifty-fifty.” I wiped my eyes.
He dialed Abe, put him on speakerphone.
“We made this choice together, as partners,” I reminded him. “I’d do anything for you, Henry.”
The words slipped out as Abe picked up. “There better be an explanation for why my undercover agents are just now responding to my countless messages,” Abe said. “And we were shot dead is only a partial excuse.”
“We have the Copernicus,” I said.
Abe didn’t say a word.
“I’m not fucking with you, I promise. Call Francisco.”
Another long pause.
“Did the guards come after you?” he finally asked.
“A little,” I hedged. “Nothing a little hand-to-hand combat and a gun couldn’t solve.”
“And where did you get the gun?”
Henry and I locked eyes over the phone. “I took it.”
“All limbs accounted for?”
This was Abe’s grumpy way of confirming we were safe.
“Yes,” I promised.
“I’ll see you at the office.”
And he hung up.
42
Henry
Delilah was patching me up like an expert, bandaging every cut on my knuckles. It didn’t hurt—not at all—not with the most adrenaline I’d ever experienced pumping through my bloodstream. My muscles were shaking, nerves screaming—if the limo had broken down and she instructed me to run all the way back to the office, I would have.