Page 44 of If Anything Happens To Me

“Let’s try to find the stairs,” I whispered to Iris. We inched away from the sliver of light slanting through the crack in the door. Even though I was afraid of what I might touch, of what bugs or mice might be hiding in the dark cellar, I felt my way along the walls. My fingers traced brick and stone. If we could find the stairs, we could climb up to street level—and escape the building when we were sure Matt and Fitch were gone.

I stumbled and fell, banging my knee against something sharp. It was the corner of a box, and when I felt around, I realized it was one of several. I pulled the lid off one, and even though the darkness was almost total, there was just enough light from the broken door to illuminate pots of enamel.

Suddenly, I knew where we were—directly below Minerva’s jewelry shop. And I had the feeling the ghosts of sea witches and sibyls were encircling us.

“Over here, Oli,” Iris whispered. “The stairs.”

I went toward the sound of her voice, then hesitated. I remembered Minerva’s face when I showed her the charm I’d found at the grave. I could hear her whisper:Not that one . . . Please, not that one.She hadn’t denied knowing what it was, or that she had made it. Would she hurt us? Was she involved?

I felt trapped between two hunters, both of them after us. Which one was worse?

I decided Iris and I had a better chance against Minerva. My heart was pounding as we climbed one story up the stairs. We opened the door at the top and stepped into the back of the bright store.

Minerva was sitting at the counter, and I saw her jump when she heard the door hinges creak. Her brow was furrowed, and she narrowed her lips, as if unsure of what to say to us. Then, finally, “You ran out so fast.” She held out her hand, and I saw the charm. “You left this behind.”

Iris walked toward her. I hung back. My eyes were on the plate glass window in front, monitoring for the Jeep. It wasn’t there. Matt and Fitch must have been driving around, looking for us.

Minerva’s expression turned to alarm when she had the chance to get a good look at us. “Yikes, you’re covered with spiderwebs.” She reached beneath the bench and handed us each a white muslin towel.

Iris and I wiped off the dust and cobwebs; I hoped I’d brushed away the spider I’d felt, too.

“What were you doing down there?” Minerva asked, holding the charm out toward me again.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me about that,” I said, without taking it.

“I’m just surprised you have it. I gave it to someone and . . . well, I wouldn’t have expected it to wind up with you or anyone else. It’s kind of precious, at least to me. How did you get it?”

I wanted to blurt it all out, tell her that I had found it next to the crevice where my sister and Iris had been discarded like trash. From the way Minerva stood so tensely, eyes burning into mine, I knew she was waiting for an explanation. But I was jostled by Iris as she ran past us to the shop’s front window. She peered out, scanning the street where we had encountered Matt and Fitch in the Jeep, where Fitch had tried to grab her.

I stood frozen next to Minerva.

“Aren’t you going to tell me?” Minerva asked. “I made this piece. Don’t you think I deserve to know?”

“Here they come again,” Iris said, shrinking away from the glass.

“Who? What’s going on?” Minerva asked. She walked to the window, stood staring at the street.

“Don’t let them know we’re here,” Iris said in a begging tone.

I crouched behind the counter. From there I had a clear view as Matt’s Jeep slowly passed by. I could see him at the wheel, Fitch beside him. Fitch’s glasses glinted in the afternoon light.

“Oh,” Minerva said. “That’s my cousin Fitch.” She waved, and from my hiding place—peering over the counter—I saw Fitch wave back. He said something to Matt, and the Jeep halted. Fitch opened the door and got out. I knew he was going to enter the shop, and I had only a few seconds to convince her.

“Minerva,” I said. “Please let us hide. Don’t tell Fitch we’re here. I’ll explain.”

“Wait,” Minerva said, eyes wide. “Did Fitch give you the charm?”

“I think he dropped it,” I said. “And I found it.”

“Oh my God,” Minerva said. “You don’t have to explain, things are actually making sense. I’ll tell you why after I get rid of him.” She pointed at a closet, and both Iris and I scrambled inside. It was full—a mop and a bucket and shelves of jewelry-making supplies. I eased Iris behind a tall stack of boxes and held my breath, afraid we might jostle a box or jar or make a noise. The door didn’t close tightly, so we had air. We could hear everything.

“Hey, cuz,” Fitch said as he entered the store.

“Well, if it isn’t the wannabe doctor,” Minerva said. “What are you cooking up in your lab these days?”

“Not much,” he said. “Listen, have you seen . . .”

“You mean the cure is out of reach? No Nobel Prize for you this year?” she asked with a sharp edge in her tone.

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