Leigh felt her eyes narrow. She knew she was getting angrier than she probably should, but she couldn’t help herself.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Reimer held up a hand for silence.
“You’re a junior reporter on what’s basically the gossip beat for a fourth-rate website,” he said. “Why you and only you?It makes no sense.”
He looked her directly in the eye.
“Do you know the Oracle?” Reimer asked. “Personally, I mean? I thought maybe it was some sort of plan between you two, butthat made no sense. But if not that, then what? Why does he want you, Ms. Shore?”
Leigh smiled.
“You got me, Mr. Reimer. Maybe he wants a reporter with a little vision. Maybe he read that goddamn great story I posted abouthim on Urbanity last year. The one you wanted to kill.”
“Do you really think right now is the time to bring all of that up?” Reimer said, real anger emerging behind his voice.
“Actually, yes. You haven’t recognized my skills since I got here. I’ve paid my dues on shit assignment after shit assignmentfor absolutely no recognition. Every time I come to you with a proposal that could elevate your stupid site into somethingapproaching, you know . . . good, you send me back down to my cubicle with a spanking.
“And now . . . and now . . . you’ve got the chance of a lifetime, Johannes, but you can’t get it without me. Nothing at allhappens without me. You probably think it’s terrible. Really burns you up.”
Leigh folded her arms and smiled.
“I, however, kind of dig it.”
Reimer stood up from his desk and planted both fists on it.
“Leigh, I’m trying to decide if I should spend ten million bucks here. Do you really think reminding me of the fact that youtend to do whatever the hell you want helps your case?”
“You’re not deciding,” Leigh said. “You already decided. If you hadn’t, then you never would have called me up here, and yousure as hell wouldn’t have shown me that e-mail.”
Reimer sat down heavily. He pulled an immaculate white handkerchief from his pocket and patted at his forehead.
“So what next,” he said, “the demands?”
Leigh’s face softened. Her anger dissipated slightly.
“Obviously. But it won’t be that bad. First, I want a promotion to lead correspondent. You’d want to do that anyway. Whenwe do our piece on the Oracle interview, it would look a little strange if you sent out someone junior.”
Reimer nodded.
“Sure.”
“Including the salary bump, benefits, the whole deal.”
“I already said yes. What else?”
Leigh thought for a minute. She really only had one other demand that mattered, but this wasn’t the kind of opportunity youlet slip by. She considered, thinking of other things to request.
“I want my own office—no more cube—and a parking space downstairs.”
Reimer nodded again, more slowly. She could almost see the calculations spinning behind his eyes.
Guess I’ll have to buy myself a car, she thought.
“One more, Johannes, and you’ll like it. It’s free.
“This story, no matter where it goes, it’s mine. I don’t just want to do the interview, I want the byline. I want final edit,and I do any follow-up pieces.”
“Impossible,” Reimer said flatly. “You aren’t ready.”
“You have no idea what I’m capable of, Johannes. Besides, you don’t have a choice. The Oracle asked for me. If you want thisinterview, those are my terms. And I’ll want it in writing.”
Reimer slumped visibly. He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a small silver flask. The smell of juniper berries waftedinto the air when he opened it and took a sip. He didn’t offer any to Leigh, which she didn’t mind at all.
He took a long, deep, shuddering breath, then looked at Leigh, seeming more in control of himself.
“Fine. All good. Done.”
Leigh endured a surge of nervous elation so intense that it left her feeling hollowed out, like a spent Roman candle. Shefelt her face stretch into a wide, unhinged smile.
“Look, I know you’re happy, Ms. Shore,” Reimer said. He seemed exhausted, like he’d suddenly realized he was completely unpreparedfor the life he found himself living. “You won. Congratulations. But please at least think about what you’ve won. I think most people would stay a thousand miles away from anything like this. I sure as hell would.”
Reimer cast a glance at his flask, then back to Leigh.
“I almost deleted the Oracle’s e-mail the second I got it. I mean, what do we actually know about him? Or her? Or it? Nothing,nothing at all, except that the Oracle can apparently do magic and doesn’t want anyone to know who he is. Doesn’t that . . .scare you? Because it scares me.”
Reimer stood up and held out his hand.
“If I’d known he would answer, I’d never have asked,” he said.
Leigh took the offered hand. They shook.
“Too late now,” she said.
The lights went out.
Leigh dropped Reimer’s hand, looking up at the ceiling in confusion. The darkness was . . . complete, which was unsettling.It was never dark in New York.
There was always someone else’s window, a neon sign, a late-night restaurant that leaked its illumination into your sightline. But now—nothing. Leigh released Reimer’s hand and walked carefully across the office to the big window behind his desk.He had already turned to look out at the city, and she took up a position beside him.
It took her a moment to understand what she was seeing.
No lights in the windows of the building across the street. Leigh craned her neck to look up and down Third Avenue. Otherthan the lights of cars on the streets below, no signs of electricity in any direction.
Somewhere downtown, a siren began to wail.
Chapter 25
MacAvoy’s was dark. Sounds of confusion filled the bar, accompanied by a few alcohol-soaked, derisive boos.
“What’s this then?” the sailor holding Will’s shirt said. His grip slackened slightly.
Will took the opportunity and wrenched himself backward. His shirt came free, and he grabbed Hamza’s coat sleeve.
“Come on!” he shouted.
They slipped toward the front of the bar. Splinters of light from car headlights came in through the big plateglass windows,supplemented by people holding lighters and cell phones over their heads. A delay as they pushed their
