Lillyanne Plume's Arc

Chapter 22 of 22

The stair creaked under Lillyanne's boots. Scott climbed behind her without a word. The inn's hallway had shifted again since morning—a sconce that had been on the left now burned on the right, and a door she didn't remember stood between theirs and the corner. She kept her eyes on the brass 103 and did not slow down. Inside, Scott turned the lock and slid the chair under the knob. He checked the closet, the crawl space, the drawer beneath the table. Empty. He came back and stood at the foot of the bed. One bed. She hadn't let herself look at it earlier. "I'll take the floor," he said. "You have a bad heart and we walked all day. You'll take the floor and be useless by dawn." She pulled the top hat off the table and set it on the dresser. "We share it. Clothes on. Backs to each other." He watched her. The strand of white hair fell across his eye. "You sure." "No. Sit down." He sat on the edge. She sat on the other edge. The mattress dipped and put them a foot closer than she wanted. She counted the exits. Door, window, crawl space. Three. She counted Scott's tells. He rubbed his left wrist where the band was. His breathing was shallow but even. He hadn't looked at the closet since he'd checked it. "Rules," she said. "We sleep in shifts. You first. Two hours. Then me." "Four hours each. You need the sleep more than I do." "Two. I'll wake you." He didn't argue. He kicked his boots off and lay on his back on top of the covers. His hand rested on his chest. She sat against the headboard with the hat pin she'd pulled from the violet band held loose between two fingers. Not much. Better than nothing. The inn made its night sounds. A door slammed two floors down. Something rolled across a ceiling. A woman laughed once and stopped. Lillyanne did not close her eyes. At some point Scott's breathing changed—slower, deeper. She watched his chest until she was sure it kept rising. She thought about Emmy knowing the room number. She thought about the butler in the white suit walking these halls. She thought about the blade they still hadn't found and how every team in the inn was probably thinking about it too. She woke him at two. He woke her at four. Neither of them died. When gray light came through the window, she was already dressed and lacing her boots. She had made it to morning. She had also spent the night learning that Scott slept with one hand on his chest and the other within reach of the lamp, and that he trusted her enough to close his eyes. That was worth something. She would decide what later.