57

Heather and I stepped fast across Prospect, dodging traffic, till we made it to the other side.

For some reason, my skin was crawling. Tingling all over. I decided to look back, past the 1789 restaurant that fronted Thirty-Sixth Street. The sidewalk outside the restaurant was crowded with pedestrians. But it only took a second or two to understand why I had the sense that we were being followed.

There were two burly men in the crowd. And I recognized them right off because I was seeing double, except that one was wearing a red golf shirt and the other was wearing a yellow one. I impulsively shouted out loud to Heather.

“Demon twins.”

Heather stopped and half laughed. “Uh, what are you talking about?”

“Bad news coming. They’re passing by the front of 1789. We’ve got to run.”

“To where?”

I noticed some steps that led to M Street below us. “We’re going down.”

“Since when do demons come in twins?”

“Since they attacked me in an alley in New Orleans.”

I grabbed her by the arm and urged her straight ahead of me, down an ultra-steep stone staircase that plunged between a redbrick building on the left and a three-story limestone wall on the right. As we scampered down, I looked behind us, but no one was coming.

At the bottom, we caught our breath. I surveyed the area. I could see the traffic on M Street dead ahead between some buildings. Another look back up the staircase. Still no sign of the demon twins.

I heard Heather shout something and then a short, explosive laugh. She was pointing to a bronze plaque on the wall of the building at the foot of the perilous stairway. I asked her what it said.

She cried out, “You’ve got to be kidding!” She opened her arms wide and said, “These stairs are called ‘The Exorcist steps.’ They were used in the movie. The part where a priest possessed by a demon throws himself down the stone stairway . . .”

She never finished, because by then I had looked up the steps one more time and the demon twins were standing at the top, grim-faced, one looking down Prospect Street and the other up Thirty-Sixth Street.

“Gotta run,” I yelled and waved for her to follow me to M Street.

When we were almost to the street, I cranked my head around one more time. The twins were sprinting effortlessly down the stone stairs after us.

We turned onto M and fast-stepped along the sidewalk until we were able to hide ourselves in a crowd of students from Georgetown University.

I asked Heather where she had parked our rental. Half out of breath, she said it was a side street off the right-hand side of M Street.

“You carry a makeup compact?” I asked.

“Okay, so is that some chauvinist comment . . . ?”

No time to explain. “I need it now,” I snapped.

She passed it to me and I plucked out the makeup pad, then cupped the mirror in my left hand so I could see behind us without turning around.

Heather said, “I thought they don’t show up in mirrors.”

I shot back, “That’s vampires. That’s Hollywood. This is real.” Then I told her, “Don’t look back, but they’re heading this way, on our side of the sidewalk.”

“How close?”

“About a block and a half behind us.”

All of a sudden the college kids halted and bunched up in front of Clyde’s restaurant while one of them strolled in to check the wait time for dinner.

We shot ahead, pulling into the middle of a large group of tourists who were gathered together chatting. They gave us curious looks and polite nods. I whispered to Heather, “We need to break free right now. Walk fast to the next cross street.”

“Good. That’s where I’m parked.”

We almost plowed into a man and a young woman about Heather’s age who were window-shopping. We excused ourselves as the couple nodded back and then entered the store.

The two of us quick-walked Olympic style until we were almost at the corner. I looked back with the mirror. “They’re closing on us. Don’t know if they see us right now, but we can’t take chances.”

We took power strides to the corner. Another look in the mirror. “Okay. They were jogging, but now they’re stopped at the window of a shop, looking for us. Maybe they think we went in.”

We picked up the pace.

At the corner, one last glance in the mirror. “They’ve started jogging again. I think they’ve seen us.”

We sprinted down the side street until we reached the rental that she had parked at the curb. “You drive,” I shouted. “I’ve got a plan.”

She jumped behind the wheel, and I buckled into the passenger seat. I told her to do a U-turn, get back to M Street, and turn left.

Heather wheeled the car around and pulled up to the red light at M. Seconds ticked by as we sat in the stopped car. I knew that any minute the demon twins would be appearing on the sidewalk from our left. They would run right into our car. We would be sitting ducks. More seconds elapsed. Traffic was snaking slowly past us on M Street.

I shouted, “Run the red light. Pull onto M.”

She gunned it and jackrabbited us in between cars coming and going in both lanes, followed by a flurry of blasting horns. But at least we were in the lane heading toward the Key Bridge.

Except that the twins on the sidewalk were now parallel with us and had us in their sights. They lowered their heads and charged like rhinos. Leaping in front of oncoming cars in the other lane to get to us.

“Pass!” I yelled.

“There’s no passing lane!”

“Make one!”

She pulled out of the traffic jam and slammed her foot to the floor, speeding us into the oncoming lane of traffic.

“There’s a spot.” I pointed to the space in front of a seafood delivery truck that had slowed down. She accelerated past it and tucked the car neatly into the space that had opened up in front of the truck.

“Nice work,” I shouted, then checked my visor mirror. Behind us, the twins were yanking some poor unsuspecting couple out of their vehicle.

Heather glanced over at the look on my face. I gave her the reason.

“The chase just got faster.”