Once upon a time, Lucy would have been enjoying her after-prom with Cole at the White Hart Inn instead of hanging out in the bedroom of some long-dead drug lord. She supposed the interior design must be what had passed for bling back then: silk draperies, gilded mirrors, Ming vases, and Persian rugs.
If she’d never activated—or reactivated—her lightning gene in Tesla’s lab, Lucy would have gone off to college believing Cole’s lies, none the wiser that he’d always been more in love with himself than with her.
“Come,” Rick commanded Lucy.
She trudged to where he was crouched on the floor. His flashlight struck the planes of his face in the most menacing way possible. Lucy rolled the Tesla Egg between her fingers. Two could play at that game.
The tourmaline necklace had been tucked into her sneaker.
Stooping beside Rick, Lucy summoned the St. Elmo’s fire. She couldn’t deny she was getting better at controlling it. Practice makes perfect. She also couldn’t deny the contented hum beneath her skin.
“Aren’t you going to ask if I disabled the security camera?” Lucy said.
“I don’t waste my breath on questions to which I already know the answers.”
She guessed Rick didn’t believe in thank-you notes either.
“What are you looking for?” She peered at the floor.
“Look closer.”
Lucy lowered the Tesla Egg next to Rick’s flashlight, rendering it superfluous. Beside the leg of the armoire there were fine scratches on the wooden floor. Squinting hard enough to make herself cross-eyed, Lucy realized they weren’t scratches at all.
There, deftly chiseled into the floorboard, was another scarab.
Rick covered the beetle with his palm and pressed.
Click.
The scarab-decorated plank lowered farther and slid beneath the one beside it. Was the entire floor a false bottom? Just like a suitcase. Smuggling tactics hadn’t changed much in two hundred years, it would seem.
Wait. Were they pilfering an opium cache? That could mean serious jail time.
Rick reached into the void, tipping forward under the weight of whatever he was hoisting from the darkness. “Merde,” he muttered, panting a couple times from the exertion.
A safe thudded onto the floor at Lucy’s knees.
It was approximately the size of a toaster, and it didn’t look particularly ancient. The paint was matte gray. Spotless. Definitely not built two centuries ago. Lucy would expect to find it in a modern hotel room.
Rick’s cheeks swelled in a deep breath as he lifted the safe once more, turning it to face them. There was no keypad on its door. No combination lock.
Lucy touched her hand to the door and St. Elmo’s fire sparked on the raised image of a silver snake eating its own tail.
“I don’t understand.” Her voice hitched. Had the Order of Sophia stolen this from the Archimedeans? Would Professor T know what this was? Or Ravi?
Rick blew a thick layer of dust from the door. Whatever its provenance, the safe had been beneath these floorboards for a while.
“This is why I require your assistance.”
He slashed Lucy’s palm with a penknife before she’d even noticed the twinkle of the blade. The egg tumbled from her grasp and bounced. In its fading, eerie green light, her blood leaked black.
“Ow!” she complained.
Without an apology, Rick grabbed her wrist and flattened her hand against the Ouroboros. Lucy was too shocked to squirm or protest. He raised his flashlight and she watched her blood fill the lines between the snake’s scales, red on silver. She could have sworn she heard the reptile hiss. The blood coursed unhurriedly, counterclockwise, through the serpent’s body until it reached the head.
Glacier-blue beams of light spouted from its sockets and the Ouroboros spun twice to the left and three times to the right. It was a combination lock, after all.
Gasping, Lucy whipped her hand back as the door flew open. Just like the plasma lamp in the Tesla Suite, the lock responded to her blood—to the lightning gene.
Rick held out a white handkerchief but Lucy didn’t mistake it for surrender.
“It’s better not to know the pain is coming,” he explained with a shrug.
Begrudgingly, she accepted the token. Lucy doubted he’d uttered the words I’m sorry—in English or French—in his entire life. With a huff, she bandaged her hand, tying a neat tourniquet to stanch the bleeding.
Lucy fumbled in the darkness for the Tesla Egg as Rick rooted around the safe, flashlight pinned between his teeth. She needed to see whatever he extracted. Not only to report back to Ravi, but for herself.
A sage-colored nimbus appeared as her uninjured hand connected with the egg. She lifted it like a lantern.
She couldn’t believe her eyes.
Rick held a thin, three-inch square of blue plastic in his hand.
A floppy disk.
Lucy had never seen one in real life.
Curiously, she reached for it but Rick lurched back, guarding the metallic circle in the middle of the square.
“Stop!” he barked.
Lucy snorted. “You want a dial-up connection with that?”
“Look, but don’t touch.”
“Why n—” She broke off. She knew why Rick didn’t want her to touch it. He was afraid Lucy was a giant magnet who could destroy the data contained on the disk.
Could she? More important, should she?
“What’s on that disk?” she asked sharply. Lucy didn’t think floppies could store more than a couple hundred megabytes of information. That was barely half a TV show.
The corner of Rick’s mouth twitched and he stashed the disk under his shirt.
Lucy shoved the Tesla Egg in his face.
“I deserve to know. I deserve to know what’s on the disk and why the Sophists stole it from the Archimedeans. I deserve to know what any of this has to do with me!”
“My client did not divulge the contents of the disk. Although one must assume the Sophists believe whatever it contains is best not in the hands of their rivals.”
If Rick shrugged one more time, Lucy would sock him.
She inched the egg closer to his chest. “Tell me or I’ll demagnetize the disk. You know I can do it.”
He smiled a snowcapped smile.
“I want you to consider your options very carefully. Jessica is on her way to retrieve your friend from where she has been napping. What happens to her next is entirely your decision.”
An orb of green light as large as a globe enveloped them as Lucy’s frustration mounted.
“Who’s your client? Who told you about me?” she said, voice laced with desperation. “Tell me that much.” Her shoulders quaked.
“I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I did.”
Clearly, Rick didn’t respond to threats. Lucy needed to try something else.
“You were a Sophist once,” she said. “If they hid the files on that disk, it might have been for a good reason. Do you really think it’s wise to sell the information to whoever is willing to pay the most?”
“Need I remind you the Order of Sophia would lock you up too? You’re not the first carrier of the mutation I’ve met. Trust me, it’s not a desirable fate.”
Rick’s words knocked the wind out of her.
“Go downstairs and wait for me,” he ordered. Lucy was so dazed it barely registered as he shoved her toward the exit. “We’re behind schedule. Unless you’re eager for the Sophists to put you in chains.”
She stumbled to her feet. “At least tell me where Claudia is.”
His face softened a smidge. “There’s a hotel near the High Line. We’ll meet your friend and Jessica there.” He paused. “We’re not the real monsters.”
Lucy didn’t know about that. “Merci,” she said softly.
The High Line was a public place. A defunct railway line converted into a park. Perfect for the Freelancers to dissolve into the crowd. She refused to feel guilty about doing what needed to be done to get Claudia back. Lucy didn’t want the information on that disk sold on the open market, but if she had to choose between her own safety and Claudia’s, Lucy would choose her best friend every time.
With a light step, she slipped down the stairs until she was out of earshot.
Lucy stilled her breathing, closed her eyes, and pictured the toy sailboats in Central Park. The sun in her vision caressed her face as she counted the ripples the boats left in their wake.
“Lucy?” Ravi’s voice was panicked, yet it made her smile. “Lucy? Are you there?”
“I’m here. I’m accidentally interfering with the frequency.”
A pause. “Right, right. I should have thought of that.”
“We’re going to the High Line. They’re bringing Claudia. Can you track me?” She conveyed the information without taking a breath.
“I’ll find you, Lucinda. Anywhere.”
Then someone kicked in the front door.