Illuminate (38 page)

As I inched upward in the rickety old freight elevator to his floor, I stared at that sealed note perched against the silver dome. The lights above the door showed that I had five more floors to go. I grabbed that soft cotton-like envelope and even as my fingers began ripping it open, I couldn’t believe I was actually doing it. I just knew I had a minute or two at best, and I needed to know what it said. The book had told me weeks ago that I needed to search for the answers that wouldn’t be staring me in the face. So I went searching. I pulled out the crisp card and read these words in Aurelia’s handwriting:

You found me.

But I’m no longer who I was.

I did love you then. Forgive me now.

I had to lean against the side of the elevator to keep myself upright. Those words tore at me. I didn’t understand. So Aurelia and Neil Marlinson had been together once? She was the first love he spoke of? Could that be right? He was so much older. It didn’t make any sense. But I thought of him, this Neil, who seemed so fragile and kind. I realized I didn’t know the full story but I couldn’t imagine any scenario in which this wouldn’t break his heart. I wished I hadn’t read it. What was most surprising was how she had ever loved a man like this. Can that brand of evil really love? Did he know what she was? One floor to go. The envelope was mangled beyond hope so I folded it and shoved it in the pocket of my uniform. I set the note underneath the dome on top of the photo. The elevator doors opened and I wheeled out.

He answered the door instantly.

“Haven, hello, come in.” He sounded surprised, as he opened the door wide.

“Your photo and some champagne, compliments of the owner. I guess you got her attention.” I tried to smile but I felt deceitful.

“That’s very nice, thanks,” he said. I could see the wheels turning, his mind trying to sort out exactly what this meant.

“Is over here okay?” I wheeled the cart over near the TV and sofa. He had one of the nicer suites, so plush and sprawling with one of those bay windows I loved.

“That’s perfect,” he said, something tentative in his tone.

“Enjoy.” I made my way to the door.

“Thank you,” he said, still standing in place, then: “Haven?”

I turned around.

“Did she happen to say anything?” I could see in his eyes that he had so much hope. He was too good for her. I hardly knew a thing about him, but I already was certain of that much.

“She really appreciates your generosity,” I offered, but it hurt me. I didn’t know if I should tell him there was a note under there. He would find it, and when he did he would just wish he hadn’t anyway. Disappointment clouded his eyes. I wasn’t sure if I should leave but didn’t know how to help him either. I turned again toward the door and he stopped me once more.

“Could I ask you just one more thing?”

“Of course.”

“Her name—it isn’t really Aurelia Brown, is it?” His eyes implored mine, wanting me to give him the right answer.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my most consoling tone. “I don’t know. I wish I did. There’s a lot I don’t know.” This was true. And I was truly sorry. I liked this man.

“No, of course.” He shook his head, regaining his composure. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be asking you these silly questions. But that night in the elevator, you were wearing a gold bracelet. I just wondered where you might have gotten that?”

“That was hers,” I said. I thought for a moment and couldn’t help but add, “And she said it was very special to her.”

“Thank you. Thanks for that,” he said sincerely.

“I wish I could be more helpful.”

“You have, you really have.”

“Well, just let me know if there’s anything else. You know where to find me.” I smiled as I left the room.

As I was getting out of the freight elevator, headed to the gallery, I heard my name in that voice, the voice that still could make my knees buckle if I wasn’t careful. I slowed my pace, but then said,
No, what if you just pretend you don’t hear it and you keep walking?
But there it was again, calling me softly and then just a touch louder, just enough that I couldn’t claim not to have heard it.

“Haaaven.”

I braced myself and turned around to face Lucian.

“Haven, did you hear me?” He took my hand in his warm paw and gave me the gentlest of tugs over toward the stairwell where we might be hidden from the guests milling about the lobby.

“Sorry, I zoned out, I guess,” I said, hoping this would be explanation enough.

“Where were you last night?” He took a wisp of my hair that had freed itself from its bun, twirled it in his fingers, and tucked it behind my ear. “I thought I was going to see you.”

“Oh.” I had to try to act normal, like I hadn’t witnessed his role in these terrifying scenes last night. “I didn’t realize we had actual plans, per se. I thought it was more in the abstract and I knew it was a busy day so I figured you just, you know, got busy.” I shrugged. I could have been smoother.

“Well, you figured wrong,” he cooed, coming closer. When he was right here, like this, it was still hard to believe he had been assigned to target me, control me, hurt me, defeat me. This, all of this, was an act, a game to him. But I couldn’t let him know that I knew this. There was power in letting him think I was still a fool. “I came by and you weren’t there.”

“I must’ve been sleeping. I dozed off reading.” He touched his warm fingertips lightly to my lips to stop their explanation. Days ago, this sort of thing would have left me pleasantly trembling. Today, though, fear shook me instead. He looked at me with piercing, adoring eyes that said he was prepared to call my bluff and yet he could still reel me in without breaking a sweat. I could see him determining how best to proceed.

“No,” he finally said, softly, sweetly. “I don’t think you were.” He leaned to whisper in my ear in that breathy voice, his arm cradling my back. “I get it, you’re playing hard to get. I have a feeling I’m going to win.” He stepped away and gave me that smile and that look that could all be taken as heady, dreamy flirtation if only I didn’t know better. I wished I didn’t know better. I stood there alone, gathering myself for several minutes until I couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore.

I needed to talk to Dante. Now. I needed my friend and I needed someone to make sense of all of this with me and I needed to make sure that he was okay. I just needed him. I marched back to the still-bustling Capone, in through that kitchen entrance, and I took the twenty boxes of chocolates we needed, sticking them in one of the larger boxes I found in the walk-in refrigerator. When I stepped out the door, Etan was right there. A jolt stabbed at my heart.

“Why, hello, Ms. Terra. Off to deliver more chocolates, are we?”

My scars flared up. “Yes, with invitations to tonight’s party. Congratulations on the three stars. You must be so proud.”

“We are. Thank you,” he said in a chilly voice. Dante must’ve told him that I’d been nosing around about him.

“I know I’m supposed to send out a gift basket—”

“Yes, I’ll have that for you later today. We’ve had a bit of an influx this morning thanks to the review.” From his tone, you would have thought the review had been horrible. It was clear he didn’t like me very much. So I had nothing to lose.

“Hey, I wondered if Dante was around?” I stood on my tiptoes to try to see out to the front of the kitchen, but I didn’t spot him. “I really need to see him. It’s important.”

“I’m sure it can wait until later. He’s needed here,” he said firmly. I was getting frustrated now, so I decided to push my luck.

“No problem, I know you’re busy. Just one more thing though. I wondered if you could tell me what that plant was that you had him give to me. A crazy thing happened to it and I wanted to try to get another one somewhere.”

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I have a breakfast service to tend to.” He stalked off, leaving me there with my boxes of chocolates and a growing sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. I left the chocolates and followed him.

“If I could just see Dante—”

He spun around and stood before me, arms folded: “I told you, he’s busy.” I noticed some of the other chefs looking on; a few stepped forward, giving the impression they had every intention of keeping me from going any farther.

“Fine then, I’ll try later. Please tell him I stopped by.” I knew he wouldn’t tell him. Who knows what he’d say about me.

I was still fuming when I got to the gift shop—we needed bags for our deliveries—and I couldn’t settle down. I wanted to stand in the middle of that lobby and scream, making everyone wake up and listen, forcing it all to make sense somehow. But I couldn’t do anything that bold. All I could do was chip away, chip, chip, chip, and needle at these questions staring me in the face.

A new recruit, the one I recognized from last night as Seraphina, was behind the desk.

“Hi there, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Haven.” I held out my hand to shake hers but she made no motion, so I withdrew it. Angry and feisty, I just wanted to see how she would respond, assess how complete her transformation might have been. I couldn’t help asking: “Hey, I had a question for Raphaella. Have you seen her around today?”

She just looked at me vacantly and smiled.

I collected the bags I needed from the supply closet and left without another word.

Lance had long since finished with the electronic invitations by the time I made it back to the office and we set to work assembling the twenty gift bags. We were both sequestered in our own private little internal worlds, when I started to get that feeling like I had when Aurelia appeared at the doorway. I looked up from my bag assembling, trying to gauge if Lance felt this shift too. He seemed content, so I looked back at my work. But then I felt his attention on me again. I looked up once more.

“Did you hear something?” he asked.

“Yeah, I mean, sort of.”

“Like maybe a siren or something? I don’t know, I’m jumpy today.”

“Me too.”

We had both gotten up now and left our tucked-away office. As soon as we stepped into the gallery’s entrance near that glass wall, we could hear all the voices. We wandered out into the hallway and joined the guests and other assorted uniformed types like us, drifting over toward the main elevator bank. Sirens blared as an ambulance swung up into the front—there was already a fire truck parked out there. Two paramedics ran in the front door. Lance and I just stood there, still, trying to make sense of it all. Two firefighters wheeled a stretcher past the group, speaking into the walkie-talkies attached to their uniforms. A white sheet had been thrown over the body, but the man’s head poked out. Lance heard me gasp, and put his hand lightly to my shoulder, as a reflex.

It was Neil Marlinson. His right arm hung down from the stretcher. His pale, dead fingers gripped the corner of a charred piece of paper. I knew, even from so many feet away, that this had to be Aurelia’s note. One of the paramedics threw the sheet over his head and stuffed his arm back underneath. I backed away slowly, my hand to my mouth, trying to hold in my cries. Faster and faster I walked until I was running back to the gallery.

I sat in the corner of the office, on the floor, my back against the wall. But I could still hear the sirens. A dread set in, a feeling of failed responsibility I couldn’t shake off:
This had been my fault.
He was dead. How could he be dead? I had just seen him. I had just been there with him.

I sat there on that cold floor, my head in my hands, unable to get that image of Neil out of my mind. Calliope and Raphaella had been nothing; this shattered me into a thousand pieces. How had this happened? What was going on here? I heard footsteps, a familiar shuffle, and I knew it was Lance. The feet stepped just inside the door and stopped. But I didn’t want to look up yet, not until I could be sure my tears were finished.

“You okay? . . . It’s a dumb question I guess, but . . . are you?” he asked, gently.

“I must’ve been the last person to see him. I was just in there. How did . . . ?” I couldn’t finish my thought and couldn’t get out anything that made any sense. “I just . . .” I wiped my hands over my face and managed to lift my head back up. I felt like I had to pick up these pieces of myself and rebuild me. Lance stood frozen in the doorway, arms hanging limply at his side, a knocked-out numbness in his expression. He dropped into the chair at the table, listless.

“So, people are saying he had a heart attack or something. Just died on the spot. One of the maids found him. But he seems young, relatively speaking, for that—I don’t know, you’re the aspiring doctor.”

“Yeah. That’s not it,” I said. I didn’t care. I would say it all now, everything I knew.

“And something caught fire in his room—not sure what that was about. The details are all sketchy. We’ll find out, I guess.”

I stood up in a flash and tossed the remaining boxes of chocolates and notes in the last few bags.

“We have to get out of here. Right now.” I picked up as many bags as I could carry. I started walking out of the office and into the main gallery.

“Wait, it’s freezing out there!”

“I don’t care, I have to get out of here.”

“I’m going with you. Let me get our coats though; it won’t do any good if we get hypothermia. Gimme your keycard.” He held his hand out. I squirmed, trying to redistribute the bags in my full arms so I could free my key from my hip pocket, but I fumbled with everything. He finally reached out and slipped it out of my pocket himself.

“I’ll be outside.”

“You’re crazy,” he said as he went back to pick up the bags I’d left. “I’ll meet you in five, just wait for me.”

I couldn’t even think straight—I had been pushed too far and I needed to spill it all out of me, all of this toxic, toxic information bubbling up in me for too long. I just needed to be outside, I didn’t care how cold it was. I went right through the crowd gathered in the lobby and out the front doors, past the ambulance and fire truck and the police car.