I can't just walk past security with a big ol' wire. I need something to hide it in. Something that wouldn't stand out.
Something like a briefcase.
I hit the steering wheel. “Son-of-a-slut!”
To the big box store I go. I spend ten minutes rushing through the aisles, becoming lost in camping supplies and treadmills, and finally finding the damn briefcases next to the luggage.
Back at the Corolla, I cram the wire into the briefcase like a lethal jack-in-the-box and snap the locks shut. Now if I can remember to look away when I open it again, I might avoid losing an eye.
I try to take deep breaths and tell myself all sorts of far-fetched hopes that this is going to end well.
When I pull into the office building parking lot, I start shaking. Hard enough I'm surprised my teeth aren't chattering.
Ridiculous. I have killed. I can pick a damn lock.
I make it halfway to the office before I remember the Briefcase of Certain Doom. Cursing under my breath, I hurry back to the car, grab the damn thing, and burst inside the lobby.
I use the badge to unlock the turnstile. Just as I push through, the security woman speaks, without even looking up.
“Forgot something?”
I halt, muscles tense ready to flee. Then I look down at the briefcase in my hand.
“Oh. Yeah,” I say. “Can't work without it.”
She nods and takes a bite of Ramen, eyes fixed downward.
Monitors.
This whole place has closed-circuit television. How long do I have before she spots me playing surgeon with the office lock?
I get off on the fourth floor, hoping no one is around. So far, so good. Even the janitor has moved on to better trash-emptying grounds.
I round the corner and grimace at the door. Why couldn't the badge just work?
Why can't Karl just take a dirt nap?
Wait, no. That would leave Silvia in charge. My nights would be spent swapping bodily fluids with her or cracking the necks of all the people who have ever pissed her off.
I look both directions in the hallway, then drop the briefcase to the ground and open it like a bomb tech cutting the cable he's not quite sure is the correct one. The contents don't explode from the case, after all.
I crouch down and set to work shaping the length of wire, because doing this before returning would have made too much sense. My hands are sweaty, so I wipe them on my pants. Footsteps thud from one direction then the other, but when I halt to listen more closely, the hallway is silent. Or maybe the noise is drowned out by the hum-hum-hum.
I duck-waddle forward with my Scepter of Lock Defying Evil and wedge it under the door. The wire has a few sharp angles in it now, but I work it underneath so that the tall piece is flush with the other side of the door. The hook at the end scratches and knocks around, looking for the latch.
The hook catches. I hear a click. The door opens.
I am golden.
I look up. A man is staring down at me, his fist clenched around the top of the wire.
I am dead.
I lunge at him, hitting the side of my hand into his throat. He stumbles back. I slam the door shut with my foot, but the hinges glide it close with a solid click.
I grab his hair and smash his head into the desk.
His body drops to the ground, but he's still breathing. I haven't killed anyone, and I would like to keep it that way. I have no idea how far the ruckus has traveled though. If security is on their way, I have minutes to get out of here.
I look under the desk, check behind the chair, and open the cabinet standing against wall.
No safe.
I turn back to the room, eyes darting for any other place it could be hiding. The office isn't that big.
I tear open the desk drawers and dump them out, knock the lamp to the floor, pull stacks of files from the cabinet. It's impossible—physically impossible—for the safe to be here.
My lungs choke for air as I continue to claw my way through the files.
I feel setup.
Maybe it's paranoia.
Maybe it's this goddamn hum in my skull. I smack my head a few times with my palm, but my brain doesn't start running properly again. Just humming. Growing. It knows I failed.
The safe is gone. I can't fulfill the request. And I've made a hell of a lot of noise.
I take off through the door and down the hall, but every step is more painful than the last.
The princess is in another castle.
I have failed.
***
I don't know how I made it out of the building without security stopping me. Even though they apparently did not hear the scuffle in the office, I'm sure I was running. I'm sure I looked psychotic. I certainly felt that way on the inside. Sometimes my body flips to auto pilot, though. Sometimes it gets me through those last few seconds when my brain is starting to surrender to the hum.
I can barely concentrate on the road as I stomp the gas. If anyone pulls me over, I will likely kill them. I won't have a choice. Nothing can stop me from getting back to Karl. To make him recant the wish before things get out of hand.
Karl has recanted his wishes a few times before, due to his own change of plans. So I know it can be done. The question always is if he will.
He has to, I tell myself, over and over. This wasn't my fault. The safe wasn't there.
My fingers grip the steering wheel until they hurt, but I don't let go. My vision tunnels, but not because I'm being summoned.
The hum is evolving. I'm moving farther and farther away from what I was told to do, even though I tried. I didn't succeed. I know I can't succeed. But the hum will make sure I figure something out.
I have no idea where the safe could be.
The Corolla's tires squeal up the mansion carport. I jump out of the car, engine still running, and race—stumbling—across the lawn.
I shout Karl's name, and I can't stop shouting it. I know what's going to happen.
The hum is a monster.
I burst through a set of front doors and don't slow down as I head for the summoning chamber. Karl won't be there, but I can't think of where else to go, where else he could be. How can I reach him?
I stuff my hand into my pocket and fumble for my phone. He has to recant the wish. I slow just enough to find his name among the few contacts and press dial, shaking my head like it will quiet the hum.
The line rings once.
“Dimitri?”
I have never been so relieved to hear him say my name.
“Karl!” I gasp, my lungs straining against my ribs. “The safe wasn't there!”
“Where are you?” His voice has a hard edge.
“Recant it!” I know I shouldn't yell at him. I know I'm showing fear, but it's growing with the hum. “Recant the wish! Take it back!”
“I'll meet you in the chamber.” He hangs up.
I jam the phone into my pocket and run. I think I knock into a table, sending a few things to the ground. Neither my vision or mind are working so well at the moment.
I shove open the chamber door, the scent of argan oil spreading through my head.
“Dimitri,” Karl says. “Come here.”
I squint to see. He is at the throne.
I hurry to him, then stop, hands on knees, struggling to breathe. “Recant . . . ”
“Where is the safe, Dimitri?” His voice is reprimanding. I can tell even through the noise in my skull.
“It wasn't there. I got in, but it wasn't there. I looked. I swear, I looked. It wasn't—” I can't finish my words because my abdomen clenches from the agony in my brain.
“You know you have to bring it back,” he says. “Why would you let me down?”
I'm still hunched over, unable to find enough air. “I tried. It wasn't there. Recant the wish. Please.”
My father would be angry if he knew I was begging, but I bet he begged a few times himself. No one can handle the hum once it evolves. That's the entire point.
Karl just sits there, staring at me. The look on his face would make anyone else fear he was going to hit them. But Karl has never raised a fist at me, ever. He doesn't need to. My punishment is encoded in my DNA.
Shadows move toward me. The guards. Something pricks my arm. Warmth flows through my skin. I drop to the ground and black out.
***
As soon as I wake, I know Karl has recanted the wish. Nothing else makes the hum stop: sex, weed, benzos. My head is silent now. Besides a few sore muscles, I feel fine.
I sit up. I'm on a hospital bed in a small room. To the side is a sink and counter. Opposite, a locker, a trash bin, and a computer-on-wheels.
The infirmary. Since I don't actually exist on paper, I always wind up here for medical care. I suspect Karl wouldn't let any other doctors touch the prized pet anyway.
The medical staff who work in the infirmary must have a massive non-disclosure agreement.
A man enters, wearing a white lab coat and a stethoscope. I've never met him before, but I rarely visit this part of the mansion. Thankfully.
He stands next to my bed. “How are you feeling, champ?”
I shrug, feet planted on the floor. “Ready to go.”
I begin to stand, but he touches my shoulder.
“They gave you a sedative,” he says, “so you can't drive for another two hours.”
I groan as I sit back down. Two more hours of this place. Chances are, Karl's going to want to discuss the missing safe before I leave. Not like I have anything else to say. I broke in to the office, and the safe wasn't there.
He needs to fire whoever was in charge of last night's intel.
The infirmary door opens.
“Dimitri!” Silvia hurries to my side. “Daddy said you had a breakdown!”
I lie back on the bed with an exasperated sigh. “It wasn't a—”
I don't bother explaining. A breakdown is as good of a term as any.
She pulls up a stool I hadn't noticed. “Did you get shot?”
Her tone sounds giddy with hope.
I turn my head to her. “I thought you didn't want anything to hurt your inheritance.”
“No,” she says, “I don't want anything to
kill
my inheritance.”
“Well, then, I stand corrected.” I stare at the ceiling. “No, not shot.”
The doctor steps closer. “Miss Walker, would you like me to bring you a chair?”
Silvia looks up at him, a twinkle on her face. “That would be lovely.”
The doctor bustles away like he's her personal servant. When he returns, he's struggling with a chair that belongs in a formal living room, not an infirmary.
Silvia accepts it, patting his hand on the arm of the chair. “Thank you, dear.”
He smiles. I know that look. He's giving her a thorough exam in his head.
“Let me know if I can get you anything else,” he says, then waits for her reply.
She waves a hand to dismiss him. He steps out of the room, and she turns back to me.
“Why don't you spend the night here?” She shakes her head. “You look horrible.”
“No, thanks,” I snap. “I'm afraid what you would do to me in my sleep.”
She giggles. “Nothing you wouldn't like.”
This is all a fuckin' joke to her.
I stand, expecting to be woozy, but the doctor has no idea what he's talking about. I squeeze around Silvia's chair to head for the door. She snags the bottom of my shirt. I brush her off and get the hell out of there before I say something I will regret.
***
Once I'm on the road back to Phoenix, I call Syd. The line rings at least a thousand times, but she finally picks up.
“Dim?” She sounds groggy. “How's work?”
“Come over,” I say, foot heavy on the gas pedal.
“Mm, okay.” She had definitely been sleeping. “Give me thirty?”
“I won't be home for a couple of hours. Please be there.”
I hang up.
I don't know what I expect her to do. Nothing, I guess. Or maybe everything. My brain is too jumbled to make sense.
I sigh. A few hours with Syd will get me back on track. We can just play checkers for all I care.
When I pull in to my carport, Syd is sitting on the edge of the porch, feet on the steps, staring down at her phone. Probably playing a game. Her purse and a large paper sack sit beside her.
She looks up and then waves as I cross the yard.
I pull her to her feet and kiss her. It's not sensual, and it's not a goodbye kiss either. It just is, and I've never been more thankful for anything.
When we break apart, she smiles at me with a mischievous glint. “I brought you a gift.”
I have nothing to say. My brain is lagging with too many thoughts that I can't sort out yet. So I unlock the door and stand aside as she enters.
“Long shift?” She steps out of her shoes. The heels are so thin, she might as well have been balancing on toothpicks.
“Yeah,” I say, dumbly.
She sits on the floor, cross-legged, facing the coffee table, and begins to pull little boxes and tins out of her purse.
I take a spot next to her, our knees touching. She produces a small blue glass hookah from the paper bag and loads it up. I don't miss that she adds a little something extra. In a few minutes, she's puffing on a hose.
Then she passes the hose to me. “You need this.”
I hesitate. If my night had been a success, I wouldn't think twice about hitting with her. But I have no idea how Karl is going to react in the next few hours. If he summons me to chit-chat about the missing safe, I will have to move fast to get Syd out the door.
Screw it. I take the hose and inhale from it. After a few minutes, I have a pleasant high. I could probably shake it off if Karl comes a-calling, but, for now, I embrace it.
Syd inhales another puff, then leans back on the floor as she breathes out the smoke. She's wearing cut-up black leggings and a short green dress. Her legs are spread un-ladylike. I crawl on top of her and lower to kiss her mouth. Her expression is mild. I suspect she had a trial run with the whacky tobacky before heading over.
I lie down next to her, and we stare at the ceiling like we're watching the stars.
“My grandma is relocating to Europe next week,” Syd says out of nowhere.
“That's nice.” I don't bother to move, not even to look at her. “Where to?”
“Italy. She tried to go to France, but I asked her not to. I hate Paris.”