Lillyanne Plume's Arc

Chapter 19 of 22

The man in the gray hoodie pushed off the lamppost and crossed the purple tiles toward them. Lillyanne felt Scott shift closer to her side. She had seen this one before—leaning outside the hat shop, measuring them like a butcher measures meat. Overhead, the fake sky had gone the color of a bruise. Night was coming down over the tent, and every team out here knew it. "You two walked out of there with purpose," the man said. His voice was lower than she expected, steady. "That means you found something." Lillyanne pulled the black top hat from under her arm and set it on her curls. She tipped the brim. "Don’t I look great?" "Baby," he said, one corner of his mouth lifting, "I'm sure you look great in a lot of things. That hat ain't one of them." Scott stepped closer to him, his body tense and shoulders squared. "Don't call her baby," he snapped. The man laughed once, short. His green eyes stayed on Lillyanne. "Easy, scarlet. I'm not here to steal your girl. Or your clue." He held both hands out of his hoodie pocket, empty. "Name's Dijon. I want to talk alliances." Scott's hand went to Lillyanne's elbow. She didn't move. "Alliance," she said. Flat. "Two hundred teams and you pick us." "I picked the team that walked out of the hatters with a clue in less than ten minutes." Dijon shrugged. "My partner is somewhere out there right now. When she finds her body—and she will—we'll have a clue chain of our own. Two chains beats one. Two teams beats whatever's waiting at the end." Behind him, down the tiled street, a woman in a red dress stepped out of the shadow of the tall inn with its purple gables and gold trim. Whitney. Last year's winner. She didn't come closer. She only watched, arms folded, head tilted like she was reading a menu. Lillyanne felt the cold under her ribs. Whitney watching meant Whitney knew Dijon was here. Whitney knowing meant an offer had a shelf life. "Why us?" Lillyanne said. "Because he's been through this before," Dijon said, nodding at Scott, "and you think faster than he does." Scott made a sound in his throat. Lillyanne pulled the hat off. Weighed it in her hand. Their clue said find the weapon. Dijon's partner hadn't found her victim yet. He was buying in early, before he had chips. "Find your body first," she said. "Then we'll talk." Dijon smiled, slow. "Fair." "Meet us," she said, and glanced up at the crooked windows of the inn. "There. When you have something to trade." "Deal." He tapped two fingers to his temple and stepped back into the dimming street. Scott waited until he was gone. "Lilly—" A loud ticking interrupted him. It echoed through the streets, loud. “Crap,” Scott cursed. He grabbed Lilly’s elbow and yanked her toward the inn. “What are you doing?” she barked. “We have to find the clue.” “There will be no more clues if we’re stuck here at night. This place isn’t normal. Just because we didn’t choose victim doesn’t mean we won’t become one out here.” He pulled her to the inn where others hurried in. And just as the shifting-faced woman from check-in appeared at the door, Scott pushed their way in. She gave him a dirty look before turning and locking the door. Fists pounded on the other side, and then a scream echoed, this one deeper within the inn.