I snatched him by the wrist, pulling his hand down before someone could see.
“My gods, you are an imbecile. Can you go two seconds without trying to get yourself killed?”
“I think three seconds is my record.”
A well-aimed punch to his shoulder, and Cirian grumbled his displeasure.
“The crowd is starting to thin,” I muttered, watching as the mysterious door in the corner opened and the woman with Malachi disappeared through it. The Sleeper was still in the center of the room, surrounded by those who wished to pledge themselves as new Converts. An idea began to form in my head, and I pondered the implications. It was brash. Far more so than I would normally consider. But this was hardly a normal situation. “Come with me,” I told Cirian, not waiting for him to agree before moving into the dwindling crowd.
We reached the door in the corner without issue, but once we drew closer, I realized there was no handle, nor any hinges for us to glean how it functioned. Standing before it, I could see the shimmer of distortion over the wooden materials, as if magic permeated the very composition of the door itself. Reaching out, I pressed my hand against the solid surface, leaning my weight into it. I huffed a breath when it didn’t budge.
“This doesn’t make sense,” I muttered, dragging my fingers across the grain of the door. The other side of this wall shouldlead to the building next to the café, but that couldn’t be right. The door wasn’t a veil, either. Of that, I was certain.
“I suppose you don’t want to break it down?” Cirian muttered from behind, his teasing doing little to calm the churning in my gut.
“There shouldn’tbeanything behind here,” I told him. “Which means there must be something that I’m missing.”
I stepped back from the door, studying the frame. A trace of color caught my eye running along the outline of the frame. It was faint, but there, surrounding the edges of the door. It reminded me of the chalk I used to draw with outside of Gran’s duplex growing up, the linework just as shoddy across the rough stone surface of the wall.
Had someone drawn it?
“Look at this,” I said to Cirian, not bothering to check if he was still behind me. His presence washed over me like the warmth of a fire. I pointed to the outline around the door, careful not to disturb the lines.
“Chalk?” Cirian concluded, leaning closer into the tight corner. His gaze dropped to the floor below, and he dragged the toe of his shoe along the floor. “It’s fresh, too. You can see the residue that fell when it was drawn.”
I crouched down, running a finger through the colored dust, then rubbing it against my thumb. Cirian was right, it was chalk. In any other situation, it would seem innocuous, but my mind would not let go of the detail as it whirred.
“If you’d like to enter, all you need do is knock.”
All heat drained from my body at the sound of the man, and I had to fight the urge to bolt. Beside me, Cirian’s posture went rigid, and I knew that he was weighing the same equation in his head.
Rising back to my full height, I turned slowly to face the Sleeper, his porcelain mask still in place as he stood a few feetback from the door, a half dozen or so Converts flanking either side.
“I would be careful standing so close,” he continued, his voice pleasant enough to keep my panic from rising. “Reina will be back any moment now, and we don’t want her knocking anyone silly with the door, now do we?”
Cirian and I both shifted, sliding along the wall to keep as much distance between the man and us as we could, inching away from the door.
“Where does it lead?” Cirian asked, his tone light as he motioned to the door. “Our friend may have thought it was the exit.”
“If they went through, then your friend must have been with Reina. That means they’re in good hands, I assure you.”
Cirian let out a quiet chuckle. “That didn’t answer my question.”
Before the Sleeper could respond, the door swung open, creaking on non-existent hinges as the woman from before stepped through. Now that we were closer, I realized the space behind the door was pitch-black, as if the door itself opened onto the starless night sky. It shut behind her just as quickly, and she eyed the two of us with an expression of curiosity. Her hair was cut short, styled to stick out in a dozen different directions. The roots shone through a sandy blonde, but the bulk of her hair had been dyed a soft pink, much like bubblegum.
“Were you lot waiting for me?” she asked.
“Here, Reina. Your next group,” the Sleeper interjected, ushering those standing by his side toward the woman. “If you’ll show them around.”
“What about these two?” she asked, pointing to Cirian and me.
“These new friends may need another moment or two before they’re ready to make any decisions,” the Sleeper answered.
Reina nodded, waving the group of new Converts to follow her as she turned toward the door once more. She reached out and rapped a knuckle on the wooden surface, and the door swung inward, once again displaying the inky darkness.
“Step lively now,” she spoke to the group as they filed through the door one at a time. Reina was the last to step in, shutting the door behind her.
The café’s basement had fallen silent then, and I realized that we were the only ones left other than the man in the porcelain mask. He didn’t move from his position as he watched us, gloved hands tucked behind his back.
