I glanced at him in surprise. Leo seldom said much, and what he did say was usually politically correct. I glanced at Cora for answers, but she was eyeing him with interest, too.
Leo just took my arm and steered me up the hill, refusing to answer questions we weren’t asking.
“Silent Cop Syndrome,” I told Cora, talking around him. “All I did was point the stupid hounds in a better direction.”
“No, all you did was antagonize Andre until his ears poured steam. And his nose smoked,” she added for emphasis. “No one does that. Andre is a mite . . . peculiar. You can’t just go rubbing him wrong, then walking out.”
Andre was a mite peculiar, all right, but he was a big boy and not my responsibility. “I’m even more peculiar,” I declared, “so people better start tippy-toeing around me, too.” I meant it. Andre and I were going to go head-to-head one of these days, and people needed to back off.
“He didn’t mean it about being your boss,” Cora said. “He was just sounding off, like men do. You just gotta turn on your sexy, and he’ll be buying carpets for your new office.”
The thought of my new office made me feel better. Except it probably had secret tunnels under it, filled with Andre’s computer equipment, where he filmed and copied my every move. “Is there any way of getting bug protection?” I inquired, thinking aloud.
“Like, listening-type bugs, or cockroaches?” Cora asked.
“Listening-type. And hidden cameras.”
Leo finally checked back into the conversation. He’d been the one to discover Acme’s devices in my last apartment. “No monitoring equipment,” he noted, glancing up our empty street for surveillance vans.
I thumped his temple. “Underground, Schwartz. What does Andre have under that building? Demonic bats? More bomb shelters?”
“Union Army tunnels,” Cora said unexpectedly. “Some collapsed when they were building the harbor tunnel. These houses were built after the Civil War, but they used the excavations as foundations. I don’t know that they’re all connected anymore, though.”
“Collapsing tunnels, even better.” I aimed toward the office building, then realized I didn’t have a key. I bit my tongue really hard to keep from cursing Andre.
“Looking for this?”
We all turned to watch Andre coming up the hill. He’d donned dark tailored slacks and a gray silk shirt before meeting at the club, and they emphasized a walk sexier than that of any cowboy I’d ever seen on TV. In his fingers he twirled a brass key.
“One of these days, you’re going to end up like Max,” I warned, reminding him of the ball of flame that had ended Max’s life. “You stand forewarned. I want some respect. I’m not cute, I’m not sweet, and I’m not entirely stable. So keep it cool, Legrande.”
“I totally respect what you’re saying, Justine,” he answered mockingly, sliding the key into the lock. “Not cute, not sweet, and not stable.”
I swiped the key from his hand the instant the door opened. Once inside my magnificent new office, I mellowed.
I ran my hand over the enormous wooden desk, not caring if it had been built for men with quills. It was huge and heavy and demanded respect just by its existence. That’s what I wanted. Well, not the huge and heavy part.
“Tunnels, Andre?” I asked, waiting expectantly as he flipped switches. I could see the plate-glass windows would need shades for night.
“What’s with you and caves? Haven’t had enough bats for one day?” he asked, leading the way down a hall I hadn’t had time to explore. “There is no elevator, which is why we can’t rent this place. It’s all stairs. Spiders. Cobwebs.”
“Bad plumbing and old toilets,” I agreed solemnly. “I have a friend who knows a good plumber.” Jane’s father had taught her all she needed to know about the business. Andre wasn’t scaring me.
Cora and Leo tagged along, either out of curiosity or to keep us from killing each other. Although by now it ought to have been obvious that we both just needed to get laid, and we were doing our best to resist. There were ethics rules about going to bed with clients. Besides, it was a bad idea all around.
The floor beneath us began to rumble before we reached the stairs.
“The bomb shelter!” I cried when the sway of old floors didn’t stop but worsened.
I scooped up Milo and we ran for the front door and our helpless patients.
24
As the rumbling motion of the ground continued, Leo shouted into his phone, and below the hill, people fled into Edgewater Street, screaming in alarm and expecting an explosion. The gargoyles growled uncertainly. I checked the chemical plant to the north. It wasn’t completely dark. I could see flickering lights but no signs of fire. I didn’t have time to study the situation. If the street was about to cave, we had to get our people out of the shelter. Rippling pavement couldn’t be safe.
I could have sworn bats were swirling out from cracks forming in the streets, but by this time, I was bat- obsessed and prepared to believe anything.
Andre, Cora, and I ran toward the apartments. I stumbled when blacktop cracked beneath my shoes, but Andre caught me just in time. Flames shot up before our noses. A gas line must have cracked.
I froze in horror. Gloria writhed and raged in the flames.
Apparently not noticing apparitions, Andre jerked my arm and navigated me around the pillar of fire. I was more than ready to follow.
Pearl and Tim appeared on their respective porches, eyes wide in terror. I shouted at them to take Milo and my car and drive south, away from the plant. I didn’t know if they listened, but as we hit the porch, I tossed my keys and Milo’s bag to Tim before he flickered out.
“Pearl can’t drive,” Andre informed me as we hit the basement stairs.
“Neither can Tim. They’ll figure it out.” I was hoping Milo would have the sense to go with them. Cats can’t fight fire.
We saved our breath after that. In the bomb shelter, the med students were dithering, uncertain whether they were safer under the street or above. Seeing no evidence of unwanted intruders, we directed the docs to start hauling the patients up the basement stairs. Once there, we’d have to decide how to deal with them.
The rocking, swaying motion seemed to be lessening, but we couldn’t take chances that 150-year-old tunnels would remain intact. Or that more gas lines wouldn’t burst. I pushed Nancy Rose’s gurney down the hall and helped carry her in a stretcher up to Andre’s front hall, then left Cora in charge of directing the med students outside to the porch while I ran upstairs to Julius. As expected, he was in the attic with Katerina.
“We’re staying here,” Julius announced.
In an earthquake, general wisdom says to leave the building, but if anyone was my boss, Julius was. I’d have to respect his choice.
“Look after Andre,” he ordered.
Well, maybe not entirely my boss, but also my friend and Andre’s father. Complicated. “What, you want me to smack him upside the head if he starts shooting?” I asked in exasperation. “You know we have to go to the plant, don’t you?”
I had avoided putting those words into the Universe for fear they’d come true, but it was obvious this was no normal earthquake. We only had one cause for our regular catastrophes, and we knew the source. And my greatest fear was that the origin wasn’t in Acme’s offices, but in the dragon-infested dungeon.
“Every time Andre uses violence, he loses a piece of himself,” Julius warned. “I don’t understand how it happens, so you’ll have to take my word for it. The only way I can explain is to say he’s operating on low battery power right now.”
