Epic Escape (5 page)

Rattle, rattle, hiss
. The snake flicked its forked tongue toward Megan’s bag. Something bounced hard against the front door, and the chair blocking it shuddered. The snake’s head swiveled. His body moved toward the table leg and he wound his neck around the base. Riley grabbed the remains of Megan’s shirt and threw the torn fabric over the wriggling reptile. Her formerly favorite pink shirt undulated and a matching shudder of revulsion waved through her body.

“Give me your hands,” Chase said in a calm rich voice.

Megan raised them without losing sight of the snake.

His warm hands grasped her cold ones, and her arms felt the pressure of her weight as he lifted her up beside him.

Chase tugged her back, so Riley could climb up, but Veronica threw herself at the opening. “Wait, no, get the tickets.”

Riley moved out of sight. A crash below let them know he must’ve kicked the chair over. No one spoke in the silent seconds following. After that, the sounds came fast: a loud bang echoed against the cabin’s front door, splintering wood, then footsteps.

R
iley cleared the opening seconds later, panting. Sweat dripped off his forehead. He reached for the cover, then stilled, frowning down at the hole. “Screw this, I can take him.” He made a move to go back in.

Veronica grabbed his arm. “No.”

Riley said, “When you run in slasher films, you get killed.”

Riley must’ve thought he was appealing to Veronica’s rational side, but all he did was scare the crap out of her. She tightened her grip on him. “No.”

Chase said, “Not if you’re the one who runs the fastest.”

“You would do that, be the douche that lives through everything.”

Chase shoved Riley’s shoulder. “You want someone to fight? I’m right here.”

Riley yanked free of Veronica, barreled into Chase, narrowly missing the hole.

“Stop it.” Megan said, adding her voice to the sound of their scuffle.

The tickets fell from Riley’s hand and drifted toward the opening.

“The tickets,” Veronica screamed.

Chase threw himself to the floor and snagged two of them. Riley went after the two drifting through the hole. His head and arm disappeared. He popped up fast moments later and shoved the panel closed. He only held one ticket, but he backed away from the trapdoor.

She didn’t know what he’d seen, but he was no longer interested in going back down.

Silence surrounded them.

Megan put a hand over her pounding heart and backed up too, trying to stay very quiet.

“Uh, guys?” Veronica said, “Guys.” She stood by an opening in the dusty attic, her back to them, peering around the side.

They moved over to her. The other half of the attic held a posh dressing room: high ceilings, white walls trimmed with gold leaf, carved moldings. Old-fashioned furniture stuffed the room, and four period outfits, circa 1850 lay across one of the red velvet chaise lounges.

Crazy.

A shudder of revulsion waved through her body. “The snake wore my shirt.” She moved into the room and scanned the floor. “You don’t think that snake followed us, do you?”

Chase slid his hand over a plush wall hanging. “I think we’re good here.”

Riley said, “Where are we?”

Veronica said, “Give me the tickets.”

Chase dropped his hand. “You mean the
three
we have left?”

Veronica ignored him and snagged them from Riley. She lay each out on a polished end table, where they could all read the message.
Make this right; Nothing learned, nothing gained, still eight
; and
The Age of Incandescence.

Riley slumped against the doorjamb. “Great, we only saved three, and one of them has the stupid movie name on it.”

Megan brightened; they were in the historic film. She said, “At least there’s no slashers in period pieces.”

“Just poison and servitude,” Veronica said. She tapped the third ticket. “I wonder what the eight means.”

Riley looked at Megan, “There’s Jack the Ripper.”

The door behind him opened, and Riley hopped out of the way.

A woman joined them, wearing a somber black dress overlaid by a white apron, and gestured at the period costumes. “Which would you prefer to wear this evening?” She lifted a man’s formal suit and offered the clothes to Riley.

“No thanks.”

The servant laid the suit back on the chair.

Megan said, “We were at the theater and got separated from our friends.” The servant handed Megan a gown. Megan took the heavy dress. Pale blue horizontal strips interspersed with medium blue ones. Pretty.

The servant’s black clad arm motioned to the door. “Your friends will fill the ballroom soon. But of course you cannot be received without proper attire.”

“Where are we?” Veronica said, “We need to make a call.” The servant gave Veronica the second gown–a cocoa-colored satin. Veronica said, “Um, thanks, but we really have to make a call. Whoever set this up--”

The servant said, “Yes, your callers will be here soon. Today’s a big day for our birthday girl, Teresa. You mustn’t disappoint her.”

“You don’t understand,” Veronica said, “We don’t know where we are. We’re supposed to be at the theater.”

“Yes,” the servant said, “Of course, dear, but you’ll require proper attire.”

Chase snatched up a set of clothes. “Play along. Maybe we have to, to get out.”

Though he didn’t say so, Riley must have agreed because he scooped up the other suit.

“Excellent, Sir, your valet’s through this door.”

Megan’s heart stilled a second when she saw them leave. She’d rather they all stayed together, but they had to move forward. She carried her gown behind a dressing screen. The blue silk flowed out like liquid. “At least they’re pretty.”

Veronica went behind another screen, carrying the cocoa dress. “Really? You really think our appearance matters right now?”

Megan felt her face flush, thinking,
No. Yes. Kind of.

Veronica said, “Women had to fight for years, decades, to get out of oppressive frameworks like these hoops. I can’t believe we have to wear them.” Layers of fabric muffled her voice as she struggled with the dress.

Megan said, “I don’t know any Teresa, who’s throwing a ball, but as long as there’s no guy kicking in the door, I can cope with this until we figure out how to go home.”

Veronica emerged from behind her screen, her stunning dress open at the back with little buttons and hooks. After a quick swipe over her hair, the strands fell into place. “Come, do up the back of mine, then I’ll help you with yours.”

Megan started at the bottom and hooked the small metal clips that ran the length of Veronica’s back.

Chase said, “Ladies.”

Megan caught a flash of Chase standing by Riley, both wearing white ties and black long coats over black trousers. She squeaked and flipped around so her naked back was to the wall, clutching the sagging front of her dress.

V
eronica said, “Out, we’re not ready.”

Chase said, “You haven’t even asked about poor Riley’s arm.”

Veronica walked immediately over to Riley and prodded at his wound. Riley rolled his eyes, but let her remove his coat and roll up his sleeve.

The pink bandage was good. Strapped tight to his bicep, the fabric also concealed his tattoo. Veronica patted the edge, securing the end.

Chase walked over to Megan. He gestured for her to turn. She shook her head. He held out a hand. She shook her head again.

Chase seized her shoulders, turned her, and deftly closed the silk ribbons along her back. She breathed in his cologne, and felt his warmth, the brush of his fingers. Exquisite agony. She hoped he didn’t notice the shiver that ran through her skin at his touch.

The entry door closed. The paneling matched the surrounding walls perfectly, and once shut, the exit became indistinguishable from the rest of the room. Inside, the dim candlelight failed to hide the awkward expressions on the faces of the partygoers. They looked bored. No music and no dancing, this wasn’t much of a birthday bash.

Megan snatched a drink off a passing tray. The first sip was warm and tart: watery strawberry with lime. The second sip tasted worse.

Two men wore the same old-fashioned tuxedoes as Chase and Riley. The taller one said, “When will the dancing start?”

His companion said, “Poor Teresa, it’s not like she’ll get asked anyway.”

Teresa appeared to be their age, seventeen or eighteen. She stood in the center of the room, a birthday crown atop her head. The crown’s pointy peaks made her resemble a dinosaur more than a princess.
Megan bet her mom picked it out.

“This is so weird,” Veronica said, “I don’t understand it. Things really can’t happen like this.”

Riley said, “Why doesn’t matter. We just need out.”

Chase held out his hand. “I’ll keep my ticket with me.”

Veronica dug one of the tickets from her pocket and slapped the paper into his palm.

Chase selected a glass from a passing tray and left them to wander the room.

Megan said, “Poor girl, everyone’s here for her party and they spend their time making snide remarks.” Her gaze moved to Chase. A group of the glamour girls had stopped him.

A partygoer said, “I so wish there was dancing.”

Veronica’s eyes glinted and she turned to the stranger. “We’re searching for a theater and got lost somehow. May I borrow your phone?”

The partygoer rolled his eyes, ignored Veronica, and spoke to his companion. “Cousin Elizabeth’s daughter, I think.” He spun his finger by his temple, to indicate that Veronica was crazy. “Just smile and nod. We indulge her.” He turned to Veronica and spoke slowly, “Yes, dear, after the dancing.”

Veronica blew out a breath and turned to Riley. “They want music. Maybe there’s some weird rule we need to follow in order to get out. Some type of rational plan.” Her voice rose in excitement with her theory and her hands waved in the air. “Riley, play us something.”

Near the dance floor, one of the girls talking to Chase tipped her wine glass over her cleavage and dripped red punch across her chest. Chase’s gaze fell on the spill seeming fascinated.

Megan gasped and elbowed Veronica. “Did you see that? She followed the magazine, and the tip totally worked.”

Veronica ignored her light bulb moment.

“I’m not playing any music,” Riley said, “I’m not musical.”

Veronica stared at him and raised her hands to her hips.

No way.
Megan turned to Riley too. “You hang out with all those band kids. You play something.”

“I don’t play in public.”

“But we’re stuck in this weird situation,” Veronica said.

“And it’s Teresa’s birthday.”

Chase came back, accompanied by a woman who clung to him as tightly as her damp bodice clung to her endowments. She smelled like the strawberry punch.

Chase said, “I think we need music.”

“I never play in public.”

“And you can’t make an exception?” Chase asked, “Really?”

Riley looked pained, but he walked toward the piano.

Chase’s new lady friend followed him to the dance floor, and they stood under the center chandelier, waiting for the music. Her gaze rose over his shoulder and she gave Megan a triumphant smirk.

Veronica squeezed Riley’s tight shoulders in encouragement. Riley lifted the lid barring the keyboard. He frowned down at the keys.

She stepped closer. “Just bang something out. I won’t laugh.”

He peered up at her with his deep blue eyes under spiky black bangs, a beautiful color, a light sapphire. She reached around him and set his lean fingers on the keys. “Okay, I might laugh a little, but I’m laughing
with
you not at you.”

Riley didn’t move.

A nearby violinist raised his bow and played. A man sat behind a harp and joined the violinist–an impromptu jam, 1850’s style.

Couples responded by joining Chase and his partner, but no one danced with Teresa.
She should ditch the crown
. Megan wondered how she could take her aside and recommend that.

A handsome man bowed. “Would you do me the honor?”

Megan felt her face grow hot, and she shook her head. “I don’t really know how to do this dance.”

He ignored her words, took her hand, and swept her onto the floor. His arms held her a little too close, close enough to smell his hair product and spicy cologne. Close enough that if this were one of the school dances, the chaperon would be by to reprimand them. Megan withdrew to a respectable distance. “Do you know Teresa? She should be dancing.”