Lillyanne Plume's Arc

Chapter 17 of 22

Scott shook a small leather bag at his hip. He’d found it hidden in a coat in the closet. Coins clinked inside it. He tied it to his belt and cracked the door of Room 103. The hall outside had already changed. The purple runner now ran the other direction. He stepped out. Lillyanne followed and pulled the door shut behind her. She kept her face blank the way she did at the poker table. Scott didn't bother. His mouth pulled into a grin. His eyes moved fast over every door, every seam in the wallpaper. He wanted this. He had missed it. "Left," he said. Then, three steps later, "No. Right." The hall bent. A staircase peeled up from the floor where a rug had been. Scott took the steps two at a time. Lillyanne kept close. At the landing, the boards ended in open air. She didn't see it. Scott caught her arm and yanked her back against him. Her chest hit his. His hand stayed on her waist. She felt his heart under the red jacket. Fast for only the second time tonight. He looked down at her, silver eyes bright, and for a moment he wasn't grinning. "Watch your feet, sweetheart,” he said. “Wouldn’t want the game to end too soon, would we?” She stepped back first. Clearing his throat and offering a wink, led her through three more halls. Doors slid past on tracks she couldn't see. A staircase folded flat and became a floor. He tracked it all like it was a card count. And one day she’d ask him how. But for now that had a hat to track down. At the last door he paused, listened, then pushed through. The street hit her with cold air and lamplight. Purple tile roofs. Gold trim. People in coats moving both ways. She felt eyes on her before she saw them. A woman in red watched from a doorway, arms folded, smile small and mean. Whitney. Last year's winner. Two men near a fountain turned their heads together. Farther down, a dark-skinned man in a gray hoodie leaned against a lamppost, hands in his pockets. His green eyes tracked her without moving his face. Not jealous. Not curious. Measuring. "Don't stop," Scott said. "Don't look at any of them twice." She fixed her eyes on the sign ahead. Gold letters on purple wood. A top hat mounted above the door. Perfect Fit, Every Time. The bell rang as they entered. The shop smelled of felt and old paper. On a velvet cushion by the register, a small mouse in a tiny gold-and-purple cap watched them with black eyes. The hatter came from behind the counter. “How can I help you?” he beamed. “A top hat for the gentleman? It would go wonders with your coat.” Scott grinned. “Maybe another time.” The hatter nodded, his smile widening. “For the lady then.” He extended his hand with a flourish. Before she understood what was happening, ribbon and fabric flew from the shelf and danced around her head. Scissors trimmed a little too close to her head. The vibrant green hat finished, the ribbon rolling itself neatly on the shelf. A purple feather hung down over her eyes. “Uhm, actually…we’re here for a clue,” Lilly said as she carefully removed the perfectly fitted hat. The hatters smile stretched in a way that made her want to run. “Oh! Payment is required up front, of course.” Not bothering to hide his pouch, Scott offered him one gold coin with a magnifying glass etched into it. “Very well,” the hatter said. In a blur of fabric and ribbon, hats formed on the counter. Wizard cones, top hats, wide brims, one that shimmered like oil. "Nine hats," he said. "The heaviest holds your clue.” He reached below the counter and lifted a perfectly level, golden hooked scale. “You may weigh only twice." Scott's grin fell with concentration. Lillyanne looked at the row and started to count in threes. The door was locked behind them. Whitney was still outside. The clock had started.