CHAPTER 56
Idon’t have time for us to absorb our surroundings as we are deposited into the Sister’s lair. One glance around the room and I realize the warping led directly into what looks to be a bedroom, the only decor a bed whose frame looks to be made of bone.
Nolan also glances around just once, and the brief look on his face tells me all I need to know—he’s remembering having been here before.
He’s remembering the fate that he so slimly avoided, the fate I passed off to our son.
We don’t have time to sit in such guilt.
Instead, we race toward the door. Nolan yanks it open and waves me through. I scramble to the other side, and he hurries to close it behind us.
As soon as the door clicks, we hear footsteps and voices on the other side. Peter and the Sister, conversing—though it’s mostly Peter, more talkative than usual. I assume he’s giving us the chance to scurry away and escape unheard.
Nolan and I silently communicate with our eyes, then pace quickly down the hallway. There are tapestries hanging on the walls, ones with gruesome images I don’t care to look at, so Ikeep my gaze fixed straight ahead. Besides, we’ll need to watch in case anyone else is here.
I assume that the inhabitants of the Sister’s lair include at least one other besides our son. Malia was meant to be the wet nurse. I just hope we don’t encounter her, and if we do, perhaps she’ll be willing to help. It’s a slim chance, a slim hope, that the Sister has already returned Malia’s son to her, but if we can help them both escape, we will.
If it comes down to between her son’s safety and mine…
Well, we’ve both made it clear which we would choose.
When we get to the end of the hall, I glance in both directions. We are in a foyer now. It also includes tapestries on the wall, except these are framed in black adamant. A quick survey shows me glimpses of great wars, of world-changing events. Some of them I recognize from my tutoring growing up. Others I don’t. I assume those to be events of other worlds.
The doors on opposite sides of the foyer are identical.
I remember John’s memory told me back in the caves that I had a fifty-fifty chance, and thinking about it would only delay me.
“To the right,” I say.
Though, if I’m to be honest with myself, it’s not simply chance, but a gut instinct. A draw I feel toward that side of the house. I’m not foolish enough to believe that I have the sort of motherly instincts that would lead me to my child. If I had those at all, I would have never offered him up as collateral. I would have found a way to protect him. But I follow the urge just the same. Just in case there is anything to it. Some innate primal response. One that has nothing to do with my character and everything to do with biology.
Nolan follows my lead.
We come to the door, and at first I fear it will be locked, but it opens easily. On the other side is a dark staircase that winds upward.
We shut the door behind us and begin our ascent. The lighting in here is dim, lit only by a single torch every few turns.
We climb until we reach the top. Again, sure that the door will be locked, sure that’s just our luck, I turn the knob. My heart sinks for, just as I expected, the latch catches.
“Don’t fret, Darling,” says Nolan. Out of his back pocket, he pulls an oblong leather pouch and unstraps it. Inside is a row of thin metal tools. He chooses two of them, then inserts them into the lock. After what feels like several minutes of fidgeting with it, sweat breaks loose on his brow.
“Is it all right if I try?” I ask.
He frowns at me, but in a way that only betrays surprise, not disappointment or a lack of trust. He hands them to me, and I place them in the lock.
“John and I made a hobby of this when we were children,” I say.
“Yes, well, I might have learned better, but my preference was always to break down doors,” says Nolan.
“We might have to resort to that,” I say, unsure that my skills are still noteworthy. But after a moment, I feel the gentle pressure of the lock speaking back to me, reverberating through the tools and into my hands. It’s a satisfying feeling, and I take it as an omen. Something has finally gone right for us.
Another twist, and the door opens.
My chest tightens at the scene that unfolds before me. I don’t know what I had been expecting from this room.
There is no furniture, no adornments.
Nothing but a massive onyx sphinx.
