Allie Jo
We race down the stairs into the tunnels.
Darkness flows around us, but I know this place like the back of my hand. I swing open the cedar-planked door on the right. Tara slips right in. Chase moves with his hand on the wall. I grab him, shut the door swiftly behind us, and lower the bar. We’re in the speakeasy. I check the porthole—closed.
“Shh,” I say, putting my fingers to my lips. We pad to the farthest wall and slip down to the floor, each of us breathing heavily as quietly as we can.
Footsteps echo in the tunnel.
My whole body becomes an antenna, alert to every sound and movement.
He attacks the brick walls in a burst of pounding. “I know you’re here!” he rasps. “Come on out, seal girl.” His voice goes in a direction opposite of us. I hear his feet shuffle off toward the entrance. “I’ve got something for you.”
Tara stiffens.
“It’s a trick,” I whisper softly. “Don’t listen to him.”
“My skin.” The words slip out of her mouth.
Before I can stop her, she leaps to the door.