Anathema (Causal Enchantment, #1) (14 page)

I had no choice. I needed to escape.

Rushing to my room to grab my jacket, mitts,
and purse—and praying no one saw me—I convinced myself that I was
doing the responsible thing by sneaking out. If this was all a big
game, I’d be free of these lunatics. If it wasn’t and I was
hallucinating, then I had bigger issues than protesters. I just had
to get out without anyone noticing me. It was a good thing this
place was the size of a shopping mall.

“
Evangeline! There you are,”
Leonardo called out as I stepped into the atrium. His elderly eyes
zoned in on my coat.

Busted. “I was cold,” I lied.

“
I can turn the temperature up, if
you wish.”

“
No, that’s alright. I’m good
now.”

He nodded. “Okay. Well, would you like me to
put a movie on for you in the theater? Or perhaps you’re hungry. We
could see what Martha has on the stove.”

“
I think maybe I’ll just sit out
here for awhile,” I said.

“
Great. Why don’t we take a seat
over here,” he suggested, heading toward the bistro
table.

Leonardo wasn’t going anywhere. He had
obviously been assigned babysitter duty. He pulled out a chair for
me which I accepted, smiling politely. We sat across from each
other in awkward silence.

I decided I may as well get some information
out of him. “What is Sofie fighting with Viggo and Mortimer
about?”

Leonardo held his hand up to inspect his
fingernails. “Oh? I didn’t know they were fighting.”

“
Well … I saw Sofie hit Mortimer
earlier today. And yesterday, the screaming …”

“
Hmmm. I’m sure it’s nothing.” He
smiled warmly at me.

That confirmed it. He was either senile or
covering for his employers.

More uncomfortable silence.

“
You seem fidgety. Is everything
alright?” Leonardo finally asked, eyeing my hands, which were
strumming aggressively against the table.

No, everything is not alright. You’re
hampering my investigation.
How was I going to get away? “I’m
not feeling well,” I blurted, an idea sparking in my
brain.

“
Oh. Would you like some Tylenol?”
He stood.

“
Tylenol doesn’t sit well on my
stomach,” I lied.

“
Well, I’m sure one of the maids has
some Advil or Aspirin,” Leonardo offered.

I shook my head, stalling. “No … what I really
need is … Midol.”

“
What’s that?”

“
Um … it’s for … female problems.”
My cheeks heated.

“
Oh. Hmm … okay,” Leonardo said, his
eyes dropping to the cobblestones. “I’ll go ask the maids.” He
started toward the red door, moving slower than usual. I suspected
he wouldn’t be in a rush to fill that request—a proper elderly
gentleman polling young female maids for PMS pills.

“
Sorry, Leonardo,” I whispered, then
forced the guilt of my deception aside to race toward the gate. I
remembered an ominous–looking solid door beside the car entrance.
It had to be the exit to the street, though it appeared more
appropriate for a bank vault. I’m sure they needed the best
security here, with all their wads of cash lying around.

If I can just get to it before anyone comes
out …
I was twenty feet from the door when Max’s massive black
body appeared in front of it, the other hounds flanking him to
create a formidable barrier. A low warning growl rumbled in Max’s
throat as I approached. It was deep and threatening and if I hadn’t
already developed a certain level of trust and fondness for this
dog, I would likely have dropped dead from terror right then and
there.

I veered to the right, attempting to sneak
around the canine wall. They all shifted their bodies, blocking my
path.

“
Max? What are you doing? I need to
get out,” I whispered, glancing anxiously over my shoulder for
Leonardo.

Max whined.

Why would they do this?
Unless
…”
Max, were you
ordered
to keep me here?”

Another whine and a bow of his head, as if he
were nodding. Yes, it was clear he had been. I was imprisoned.
Leonardo was the warden and these dogs were the guards.

I had to get out, and fast, but with well over
a thousand pounds of ferocious muscle forming a barricade, this was
going to be tricky. I needed a distraction. What would distract a
dog?
Something to chase.

“
Look! A kitty, over there! Go
fetch!” I whispered excitedly, pointing to the other side of the
atrium.

None of them budged. Their eyes didn’t even
shift.

“
Right. You’re smarter than that. I
forgot,” I muttered.

I reached forward and pushed against Max.
Nothing. I leaned in, putting all of my hundred and twenty–odd
pounds against him. It was like trying to move a concrete wall. I
groaned in frustration. These dogs were more well–trained than
Jake, the only dog I had ever really known. That golden retriever’s
sole purpose in life was chasing his tail and trying to steal
thawing meat off the counter.

An idea hit me—a desperate one. I dashed up the
stairs and into the house, heading toward the kitchen. Luckily it
wasn’t too far from the atrium so I found it easily enough on my
own.

Magda was chopping up vegetables when I
entered. “Hi, Magda,” I called gaily, trying not to arouse any
suspicions. She glanced up to acknowledge me with a polite nod,
then returned her focus to her carrots. “I’m just going to grab a
snack,” I said, heading casually toward the commercial–sized
fridge. She nodded again without looking up, likely having no idea
what I had said. That was fine with me.

I pulled open one of the doors.
Bingo!
Meat
. And it wasn’t hard to find, considering one entire side
of the fridge was stocked with it. Why did they need so much?
Doesn’t matter,
I decided, reaching in to grab a zip lock
bag before peeking around the door. Magda was now tending a
simmering pot, her back to me. I closed the fridge door softly and
hurried out before she could turn around. I’d have a hard time
explaining what I was doing with eight raw steaks in any
language.

When I returned to the atrium, Max and the
others were still standing in the same positions as before, like
statues. Thankfully Leonardo wasn’t back yet.
This has to
work
.

“
Look what I found for you!” I
exclaimed, holding up the bag of bloody meat. I didn’t think they’d
mind that it was raw. Jake had never been too picky.

This time my method of distraction worked.
Unfortunately, a little too well. All four dogs erupted in a chorus
of vicious snarls and deep growls, revealing razor–sharp fangs—much
more pronounced than I remembered. Muscles rippled with tension as
they began stomping and pawing at the ground with their hooked
claws, clearly torn between holding their positions and
springing.

The bag dropped from my hand, spilling blood
onto the cobblestones as I scrambled back, terrified.
Brilliant
idea, Evangeline. Forget protesters. Leonardo’s
going to
come back to find your mangled body in the atrium. And then he’s
going to have a heart attack and die.

I locked eyes with Max, pleading silently with
him. It seemed to work, as he settled down, his fierce snarls
turning to snorts.

The other three were still focused on the raw
meat and frothing at the mouth. Max let out a ferocious growl and,
turning, snapped at the dog to his left, his teeth tearing a chunk
out of the dog’s ear. With a yelp, the three dogs stiffened
immediately, resuming their guard. The meat was instantly
forgotten.

I stepped forward cautiously, deciding my
last–ditch effort would be a show of confidence. “Okay, Max, you’re
either with me or against me. You choose!” I commanded with as much
conviction as I could muster, throwing in, “I’ll never forget this
moment,” for good measure.

Those perceptive yellow eyes gazed into mine as
if judging the truth of my words. We remained frozen like that—eyes
in a deadlock—for so long that I was ready to give up. Then Max
suddenly covered my cheek with a lick. He stepped to one side,
allowing a small space for me to fit through.

I gasped. “Thank you!” Planting a quick kiss on
his snout, I darted past, ready to throw the door open.

Until I saw the keypad.

“
Damn it!” I cried, pounding once on
the door. Tears welled in my eyes as defeat swept over me. There
was no way out. I was in Alcatraz.

Six … two … one …
a distant deep voice
whispered. I recognized the voice from the other day. Only this
time it was speaking in numbers. Seven numbers, repeating over and
over.

On impulse, I punched the numbers into the
keypad. My eyes widened in shock when I heard the lock release.
How?

It didn’t matter right now. I was
free.

I
studied the throngs of
people as I crossed Fifth Avenue. There wasn’t a single person who
could ever be mistaken for a protester. That seemed to favor my
conspiracy theory.

I passed through one of the park gates and
stopped to take in the gardens and paths of the famous landmark,
exhaling heavily.
Where do I begin?
The aroma of a hot dog
cart wafted my way. My stomach growled.
Start with
lunch.

Foot long and Coke in hand, I searched out a
park bench and gingerly sat down, recalling the sharp metal seats
of the benches around the fire the night before. This bench’s
wooden seat was intact, definitely not one of their props. I
scanned the other benches in the area to confirm that all of their
seats were also wooden.
I’m like Nancy Drew,
I thought
proudly as I took a big bite of my hot dog. A gob of mustard
dripped onto my lap.
A slovenly version
.

I couldn’t help but feel discouraged, sitting
there. It didn’t
feel
like the same forest. I didn’t
remember autumn foliage. But it had been dark and, if they were
drugging me, I couldn’t trust my instincts, I rationalized. Still,
something didn’t add up.

I scrutinized the people hurrying along the
various paths and sidewalks around me, hoping to catch a bubbly
blonde skipping by. Or better yet, Caden. My heart began to race at
the thought.

It was sunny but the gusting wind carried a
bite, enough to warrant a thick jacket and mitts. My hands—ungloved
while I handled my messy lunch—were turning red.

“
So many people about, all in a
rush, aren’t there?” a petite, elderly woman in a blue wool peacoat
remarked as she slowly eased herself down beside me on the bench, a
bag of dried bread in her frail, wrinkled hands.

I smiled politely at her. “People prefer the
warm weather.”

“
And you? What are you doing out on
a day like this?” she asked, turning to face me as she leisurely
tossed a few pieces of bread out to some eagerly waiting pigeons.
She had to be in her late eighties, judging by her heavily creased
face and her stark white, curly bob. Oddly though, her eyes were
not clouded and bland with age but an intense hazel, speckled with
dark green flecks.

Looking for evidence that I’m being drugged
and dropped off in Central Park at night,
I replied mentally.
She’d likely keel over dead if I shared that. “Oh, just taking in
the sights. I’m visiting from Maine,” I said instead, drawing a big
gulp of soda through my straw.

“
Oh, isn’t that lovely,” she
replied. A typical old lady response.

We spent the next twenty minutes idly chatting
about the differences between Portland and New York as the old lady
fed the hungry birds and I finished my lunch. She was a sweet,
grandmotherly type, eager to ramble on about her ten grandchildren
and three great–grandchildren.

With the last chunks of bread devoured by the
scavengers, she rose. “Well, it was nice to meet you …”

“
Evangeline.”

“
Evangeline. What a lovely name.
Evangeline, I must be heading home now. It’s too cold out here for
these old bones.”

“
Goodbye,” I said,
smiling.

“
Are you going home now
too?”

“
Yeah, probably,” I said, crumpling
up my hot dog wrapper. “I don’t think I’ll find what I was looking
for.”

“
Oh? And what was that?”

I hesitated. “A statue.”

She paused. “Anything in particular, dear?” she
asked, her eyes squinting in query.

I described the white woman in detail to her.
Those unusual hazel eyes widened. “Yes! I know the one you’re
talking about. Just take the paths through Shakespeare Garden and
you’ll find it.”

“
Really? Thank you!” I said, feeling
a mixture of distress and relief.

With that, she shuffled away, moving
surprisingly quick for such an old lady.

I followed her directions and soon found myself
deep within the park, surrounded by trees of all varieties, their
leaves turning the colors of autumn. I was surprised how wooded and
quiet it was with the city bustle so close by. It still didn’t look
like my dream, but …