Page 21 of Inheritance
I swallowed, didn’t look, and kept walking. The main exit back to the museum felt too far away. I walked faster than I should have, resisting the urge to look back. Until I reached the door.
He was following me.
There was something coldly elegant about him, something that made my skin crawl. He moved like he had all the time in the world and nothing to fear. And in that moment, he looked like he was hunting.
I could feel my heart beating.
I pushed through the door into the museum and veered left, towards a janitor mopping by the small janitor’s closet, the door slightly open.
He looked up as I reached him, startled. "Whoa, miss?"
I didn’t say anything. Just shoved past him into the closet, then turned and frantically waved at him, hoping he would realize my wide eyes and wild gestures meant,ignore me please let me hide in here.
His confusion shifted into understanding as the clicking echo of footsteps became louder, and louder.
He went back to mopping, subtly closing the door almost all the way.
"Excuse me," the man said, calm and pleasant, “Have you seen which direction my date went? About this tall," I could hear the smile in his voice as he gestured, "Brown hair, red dress, nice ass, gold earrings. Stunning. Hard to miss."
The janitor cleared his throat. "No, sir. I’m sorry. Haven’t seen anyone."
I could almost feel him standing there, still and sharp, testing the air.
“Are you sure about that?” he asked quietly.
“Y-yes, I’ve just been focused on my mop. I didn’t see anyone, I’m sorry. She must be here somewhere, I... maybe she went to the restroom that way.”
“Ivan. Not tonight.” A voice called far away. A familiar voice with an accent, but I couldn’t place it. I was too scared to think.
I blinked, breathing quick and shallow. Was the man just outside the door Ivan Sinclair?
I peeked through the crack in the door. He was standing a few inches away from the janitor, looking down at him. The janitor kept his eyes on the ground, clutching his mop.
“You are sorry,” Ivan said in an intimate, condescending tone. “As sorry as they come.”
That cold sucking feeling of dread made my legs tremble. I crouched down.
Then came the click of his shoes on tile, becoming quieter and quieter, until there was only silence.
The door opened and I jumped back, knocking over a rack of brooms.
"Thank you," I whispered. "Really. Just... thank you."
The janitor nodded, clearly a little shaken too.
“Can I… stay in here a little longer?”
His eyes lingered on mine empathetically, and I leaned forward and pulled the door closed, then fought with the latch on my clutch to get my phone. I needed to call Gabriel.
He picked up on the second ring.
“Hey, is it already over? Don’t you want to stay a bit longer, try to?—"
"No," I said too quickly. Then softer, "No. I’m done. Can you pick me up?"
There was a pause.
"What happened?"
