The Valley and the Flood by Rebecca Mahoney (10 best books of all time TXT) 📗

“Ah, no,” he says, perfectly serene. “Those ones were just for fun.”

Cassie’s eyes glaze over. I think she’s still listening. But I also think she’s slipped into some kind of rage fugue state.

John settles back in his chair, tilts his neck slowly from side to side. “The abandoned multiplex,” he says. “That’s where you should go next.” Alex frowns, glancing down at his list, but John laughs and shakes his head. “It’s no one you planned to talk to. No one’s talked to them for quite some time. But if you don’t go there next, you will not be successful today.”

“So we will be successful?” Felix says.

“Who is it?” Alex asks at the same time.

“I’m afraid both those answers are out of my reach,” John says. “All I know is that this path grants you your best chance. Perhaps your only chance.”

I start to look at the others. But before I can, Cassie says, “I’m fine with that.”

Alex scribbles on his schedule without looking down. “Thanks, John.”

We mutter thank-yous and goodbyes as we shuffle to the door, which John accepts with a gracious incline of his head. As I slip out last, he gestures to me, “Ah, Ms. Colter, when you find the Great Sea, do treat them gently, yes? You never know someone else’s story.”

I smile and duck through the door before he can see the shiver that works its way through me.

“I’m kind of surprised, Cassie,” Felix says as we make our way to the stairs. “That you’re taking John’s advice, I mean.”

Cassie looks at him sideways. “I’m petty,” she says, “I’m not stupid. I said it before, didn’t I? John’s prophecies may be trivial. But even I know that they’re never wrong.”

—

THE ABANDONED MULTIPLEX sits tucked between two restaurants on a busy corner of Morningside Drive. But when you step off the block and into the entryway, it’s easy to forget that. Like in the middle of this lively downtown chaos, there’s a pocket of airless space.

Wordlessly, Cassie offers her purse, and Alex pulls out a keyring, squinting at the color-coded caps.

“Do you guys have keys to the entire city?” I ask.

“Just the public buildings,” Alex says. “Sometimes Ms. Jones brings me to check on the places that need a . . . closer eye. But we’ve never been here before.”

“You’ve heard a lot about the neighbors by now,” Cassie says, “but you haven’t seen many, have you? That’s because they’re happy enough to leave us alone if we leave them alone. You avoid the right parts of town, you can go weeks without seeing one at all.” For a moment, she watches Alex, sorting through the keys. “And there are particular places you shouldn’t go at all, whether you want to see them or not.”

“Unless you’re Felix,” Alex mumbles, most of his attention still on his task.

Felix sputters. “Again! The child of scientists here! If you hand me a list of places I shouldn’t go, what do you expect me to do?”

“I mean,” I say, “probably not go there.”

Alex smiles, just a little, and it untwists something in my stomach. He’s been quieter than usual since I saw that list in his hands.

I watch his face a little more closely as I ask, “But the multiplex isn’t one of those places?”

I think I see recognition on his face. Then he finds the right key, and it’s gone.

“No,” he says, sliding it into the lock. “If it was dangerous, Ms. Jones would have told me.”

That’s the exact moment that Alex withdraws the keys and pushes at the door. It unsticks with a snap and creaks slowly open. The air rushes out with a little sigh. Then it stills.

It’s darker than dark in there. Dark like nothing within our atmosphere should be.

Felix takes a huge gulp of an inhale. “I’ll go first,” he says. But Alex is already slipping past him, braced against the chill of the hallway. Cursing, Felix bolts after him.

Cassie turns to me with a wry smile. “Shall we?”

So we do.

My eyes adjust slowly. And as they do, I catch the ticket booth looming ahead, broad strokes of light fixtures framing the sides like peacock tail feathers. I can just imagine it: bombastic splashes of light against dark carpet and dark paint. But I don’t think this place has been lit in a long time.

I sidle up next to Cassie and whisper, “Are we really going to find someone here?”

Cassie shrugs. But even in the dark, I see a brief, rare flicker of uncertainty.

From up ahead, Alex clears his throat and points at the darkened door. “Let’s try theater one.”

I glance to the right as I follow, through the double doors. I know from the sign outside that there are only four screens. But in the dark, the theater stretches on and on.

There’s light filtering through the emergency exits. By it, a stream of dust cascades from ceiling to floor. The screen looms above, framed by the scalloped edges of the curtain. Something about a dark screen always looks like waiting.

Alex clears his throat. “If there’s anybody here,” he calls, “could we ask for five minutes of your time?”

There’s no response to that. For a second, I think I see a dark, fuzzy shape, hovering at the edge of the curtain. But I blink hard, and the image clears.

My imagination, maybe. I hope.

“John Jonas sent us?” Felix adds hopefully.

At the silence that follows, Cassie attempts a smile. “We want to talk to them, Felix, not scare them off.”

“Let’s try theater two,” Alex says. And even he sounds uneasy at this point

We turn around. The good news is, I’m no longer at the back of the line. The bad news is, I’m at the front.

I take a breath. I’ve been telling myself these past few months, whenever that nameless panic crept in, that the worst thing that could happen to me has already happened. Now I think I was tempting fate.

I reach for the doorknob. Something gets there first.

Something black and thick and