Page 55 of Phantom
“Before what closes?”
“Miss Mabel’s shop.”
I frown because that answer means absolutely nothing to me, but I don’t ask him to elaborate, instead, resolving to just go along for the ride for once.
He walks down the hallway and I follow close behind him. When we get to the door, he pulls out his phone and types in a code. The doorwhirsandclicks, and all three latches unlock simultaneously, even the highest one. I’m afraid to ask why he has one so high up.
“It’s so intruders on the other side don’t realize there’s another lock to break. Doors are at their weakest where the lock connects to the frame. It makes the door easier to kick in if the lock is only in the center, but when the dead bolt is also at the top, it’s much more difficult.”
“How did you know I was wondering that?”
Right now, his smirk is one of the only ways I can tell that he’s wearing a mask because while the left side lifts up, the right remains unnervingly still, frozen in a neutral state of bland disinterest.
“I watch people, Scarlett. It’s what I do. I deal in secrets and protection. Knowing what people are up to is my job.” He brushes his fingertips against my cheek and I barely resist the temptation to curl into his palm. “Andyouhave averyexpressive face, at least to me. If I didn’t know you better, I wouldn’t believe that you have even an ounce of darkness in you.” He bends low and brushes his lips against the shell of my ear. “But we both know better, don’t we,mon amour?”
My lips fall open, and my heart pounds with questions and the endearment. Before I can ask him how he knows my darkest secrets, he pushes me aside gently with his arm across my chest.
“Get behind me, Scarlett.”
I do as I’m told without thinking of defying him and as he opens the door and peers out, it takes me a second to realize I have no desire to even try to run away.
“Follow behind us,” he orders crisply.
I peer out from behind Sol’s waist and see a figure with flames on its face, emerging from the dark.
My heart races at the stranger’s arrival, not to mention how harsh Sol’s tone was. It makes me realize how gentle he’s been with me.
“Yes, Phantom,” a husky alto responds. The woman is tall, maybe six feet, although that’s got nothing on Sol. Her long, sleek black ponytail falls down her back and her mask of fire, intricately painted to shimmer and shine with reflective light, glows against the dim illumination from the corridor behind me.
“I remember you from last night. Um… thank you for, you know, helping,” I whisper dumbly. “I’m Scarlett.”
The mask only covers the top half of her face, revealing a twitch of a smile. “And I’m Sabine. But let’s keep that between us, shall we?”
“Come, Scarlett,” Sol commands in that tone I’m realizing he saves just for me.
He takes my hand and leads me out the door. Sabine closes it behind me and Sol presses a button on his phone screen to rotate the locks back in place. I follow him blindly through the dark tunnels while Sabine’s light steps pad behind me.
The stone passage is lit by industrial-style Edison bulbs, protected by metal caging, the same ones that line Sol’s hallway in his apartment. Rushing water resounds in the distance as we stick to the left side of the dim walkway.
“Is that a river?Underground?”
“We’re below sea level down here,” Sol explains. “My great-grandfather wanted dry pathways for his ventures during Prohibition, so he had an architect and city planner in his pocket who helped divert the runoff and flood waters into these underground channels that lead to the Mississippi River. The French Quarter is already slightly above sea level compared to the rest of New Orleans, and in the past, these channels have helped prevent disastrous flooding in the streets above us.”
“Whoa, what happens if I fall in? Will I get swept into the Mississippi?”
Sol tugs my hand against him, as if he’s afraid I could speak that accident into existence.
“Neverget too close, pretty muse. I can’t lose you,” he mutters so low under his breath, I doubt Sabine heard him. “The channels reroute excess water to pipes that span like a labyrinth underneath the French Quarter and end at the mouth of the Mississippi. While there are sections of the maze where you must hold your breath, you could survive the thousand-foot distance as long as you move swiftly with the current and keep your head close to the oxygen at the pipe’s ceiling. But most people don’t know that.”
I snort. “Do a lot of people like to swim down here?”
His silence makes the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention.
“Some are given that choice, yes. Others choose to fight their way out.”
I gulp as I try to piece together what he’s saying. “So when people come down here they either swim… or fight. Who do they fight, and why?”
Minutes go by where I only hear the ominous rushing water a mere few feet away from me.
