Page 43 of A Breath of Life
While Tallus slept, I reexamined the ornate playing card for the hundredth time. Mr. Jeweler hadn’t mentioned a tracking device, and he’d examined it thoroughly, but it was there somewhere. I had no doubt. I suspected whoever made the card had inserted it between layers or that one of the onyx stones was a fake. The advancement of technology meant tracking devices were getting smaller and harder to pinpoint.
Tampering with the card to locate it felt risky. Whoever these people were, I didn’t want to test them or push their buttons. Maybe they were empty threats, but if they weren’t? If they had eyes on me. If they knew my every move and I didn’t comply with their demands, then what? No. I couldn’t risk it.
Careful not to jostle my boyfriend or the dog, I slid the card back into its leather pouch and looped the drawstring cord around my wrist, creating a new knot so it wouldn’t slide off. The Consigliere had warned me to keep it on me at all times.
I had to find Clarence. Whatever he had done to piss off Ace wasn’t my problem. I had my own fucking problems, and if it meant givinghim up to these psychotic assholes, so be it. He made his bed. He could fucking lie in it. I should have let him die in the alley.
The longer I lay, quietly composing a plan to uncover Clarence’s whereabouts, the more my thoughts strayed to the men behind the ordeal. Who were they? Where had I been held? Muddled memories from my short captivity drifted in the foggy expanse of my brain. A room. Vintage décor of a style I couldn’t identify. Cool, damp air. No windows. The rumble and vibrations of a nearby subway line.
It wasn’t solely the furniture that seemed out of time and place. The room itself gave a dated vibe. Colorful terrazzo flooring beneath my feet. I remembered its glimmer in the low light of the room. Images of colored glass above the sideboard came to mind, like those lamps. What did they call them? Texturized wooden arches built into the walls. They served no purpose but were a popular design from a time period I couldn’t quite put my finger on. The lighter, less imposing aesthetic boasted a post-Victorian mood. Roaring twenties? No. Maybe?
Pinching my eyes shut, I recalled Clarence’s clothing and how we’d made fun of them. Tallus’s slack-jawed observation came back to me.“He was wearing a full Edwardian wardrobe.”
Was that it? Edwardian? How the fuck should I know?
The Consigliere’s outfit felt similar in style. Too smart and ridiculous for the twenty-first century. His posh tone. His manner of flouncing about like he was heir to the throne. Not quite aGreat Gatsbyfeel, but close.
Edwardian. When was that? Post World War I? Pre? I couldn’t remember. I doubted I ever knew. Where in Toronto did they have buildings that old?
I huffed, jostling Tallus on my chest. “Old Toronto, you fucking idiot.” It was a stone’s throw from the office. Not too far from wherewe lived and regularly walked Echo. The guy from the alley, Clarence, had been out walking. It made sense that he might have been coming from their lair.
“But where is it?”
Tallus stirred, so I tightened my grip and kissed his head, urging him back to sleep. He settled quickly, his soft exhales fanning my chest. What the fuck was I going to tell him when he woke? This was a nightmare.
I pushed the concern aside for now and resumed compiling data.
Those aged buildings were not exclusive to Old Toronto, but the chances were higher that I’d been held there. One of the subway lines ran in that area. How close did it have to be for me to have felt its vibrations? Another answer I didn’t have.
A flash of memory came and went like a broken shard of glass piercing my brain unexpectedly, and I sucked in a breath at its sudden appearance. A long, dark passage. A hallway? Uneven ground. Tripping. A smell. What smell?
I inhaled, trying to bring the scent back, but it had long ago abandoned me.
A stairwell. I remembered a stairwell. Men supporting my limp body on either side. A carpeted hallway. The blinding light of day.“He’s waking up. Do something.”
Cold cement stairs. A clear blue sky slashed with a fading contrail. A solid wooden door with strange markings.
The silhouette of a man blocked my view.
Impact.
The alley.
“Goddammit.” I rewound the damaged reel and tried to see it again with more clarity, hoping to pick out the missing details, but the memory remained unchanged. Broken. Missing too many parts.
Two men had carried me along a corridor of some sort, up a flight of stairs, and down a carpeted hallway. Musty air? A stench of some kind. As we got outside, my semiconscious state caught their attention. They lay me down on concrete stairs beside a wooden door with markings. The bright sun shone overhead. The clear blue sky slashed with the mark of a long-gone airplane.
Then nothing. They had knocked me out a second time. Nothing but the desolate alley and Echo licking my face.
I wasn’t sure when I fell asleep, but movement awoke me. Cold air hit my chest where a warm weight had been a moment before. A steady, throbbing pain radiated through my face and down the back of my neck. The room was draped in darkness. From the window, the weak yellow glow of the city gave shape to furniture and forms. I didn’t know what time it was, but I sensed it was late.
Lifting my head took effort and increased the throb at my temples and behind my eyes. I squinted into the room. The lean and mostly naked silhouette of a man moved toward the door. I knew that body like I knew my own face in the mirror. I’d spent months memorizing, touching, and savoring it.
Worshipping it like it might one day vanish.
“Tallus?” My voice cut like a rusted tooth saw into the quiet. I cleared my throat to no avail. All the shouting while captive had left its delayed mark. “Where are you going?”
“I’m starving. I don’t remember when I last ate, but my stomach is screaming. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it.”
