beneath the yellow blob again. Nervous energy, I guess. Since she’d been instructed not to feel sorry for herself, her mind had to stay busy doing something. Apparently mentally redecorating the underground tunnel systems of Paris was the answer. She snaked her hands from under her too-big cuffs and saw her palms were sweaty. She lightly blew on them as Frank turned to continue up the stairs.
“The dungeon got its name when a section of tunnel collapsed, closing it off from the rest of the underground,” Frank said to Raven. “That’s where we’ll find Solomon.”
“Solomon?”
“The Owl.”
Already Nikki felt the whoosh of fresh air swirling around her ankles. She opened the raincoat slightly to let some of that fresh breeze in, but clamped it closed right after. She hoped no one had seen her brief mistake.
The last doorway opened onto a Paris street, but she barely got a glimpse. Frank turned to her and wrapped the raincoat tighter, then tugged the hood up and over her head. It felt like she’d been submerged in some sweaty fog. “Stay close and, uh, don’t breathe.”
She held her breath for a few seconds until she heard him chuckle. Nikki sank a fist into his arm from behind.
“Solid punch,” he said. “For a girl.”
That comment awarded him another hit.
The nine of them walked single file, Nikki hovering near the middle of the pack, able to actually smell the boys’ taut attention. Their alertness crackled through the air. She wondered why guys she didn’t know — who weren’t even Halflings — would put their lives on the line like this, so ready to face a creature beyond their worst nightmares. Her appreciation grew.
She felt a small hand reach up into the sleeve of her raincoat and entwine his fingers with hers.
Dane was whispering about the entrance to the dungeon. “See the row of trees behind the edge of that building?”
“Yes,” she whispered back, adjusting her hood slightly.
“That’s the entrance to the university. That’s where the Owl — I mean, Solomon — likes to hang out. He used to be a professor there, but when he went cuckoo —”
“Cuckoo?” She tried to look down at him, but her vision was again blocked by yellow. She pushed the material back.
“Yeah, like a clock. You know.” His head tipped from side to side and his voice rose to a chirp. “Cuckoo, cuckoo.”
“Stop it, Dane,” Frank hissed.
Nikki’s attention returned to the entrance ahead.
Dane squeezed Nikki’s hand, and when she looked back down at him he did the cuckoo clock impersonation again, this time silently. By the end he had to press his hand to his mouth to keep from giggling.
She was glad for his moments of levity when they made it into the next tunnel system. Nikki now understood the name dungeon. No other handle would fit this dark, stale place.
“We’re almost there,” Frank said when they reached the end of yet another long staircase leading into the depths of the dungeon. “If we have any … uh … interruptions before we find Solomon, just stay close and keep quiet.” His gaze burned a laser hole through Nikki. She widened her eyes at him as if to say, “What?”
He didn’t answer. And five minutes later, she found out what “interruptions” were.
A group of guys stopped them as they entered what Frank had said would be the last room before the entrance to Solomon’s place.
Nikki lowered her hood and tried to do a quick head count — not that it was necessary. They were outnumbered. Frank stepped forward after the initial pause, and Nikki marveled that Raven was letting someone else lead. She was suddenly aware of his proximity to her. Close. Always close, always there, and always ready. It was like having a personal pit bull.
The leader of the other group stepped out as well, and Nikki watched the anger build as he stared down Frank.
“We’re just here to see Solomon.” Frank held his hands up in a back off, we don’t want trouble kind of way.
The guy opposing him had dirty jeans, long hair, and enough tattoos that a kid with a Matchbox car could drive forever along the green paths on his muscled body. A scar marred his face from cheek to jaw, and when he turned his head to spit on the ground, she saw the scar ran the length of his neck too, hiding beneath the collar of a soiled T-shirt. Guess they grow them tough down here.
“Look, Skully, I don’t need any problems right now.