Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Or maybe it wasn’t the police? They weren’t exactly known for their homely manners.
“Fuck, this is weird.” Tristan stood with his hands in the pocket of his jeans. He wore a pearl necklace intermittently set with sapphires—something he’d spotted in an Instagram ad and mentioned he wanted. I liked surprises, so I’d ordered it the second he wasn’t looking at my phone. He went to fiddle with one of the bright blue balls.
“Looks like the cops took everything,” I said, scanning the small space. I went to the tables and lifted the cloth, seeing only dirt and dust bunnies. “Nothing.”
I didn’t want to prolong this. I could come back later in the day and do a more thorough search, but for now, this would have to be enough.
“Come on. Let’s go get some lunch and walk Piedmont.”
I started toward the steps when Tristan grabbed my elbow.
“Wait… while I was here, I remember hearing something. It sounded like a door. A heavy door, not like the one that leads into the basement.” Tristan looked around, doing a spin. He moved to the center of the room. There, he stood with his eyes closed, the wrinkles on his forehead multiplying. I didn’t even breathe. I watched him as the memory slowly started to resurface. “It sounded like it had come from this direction.”
Tristan took a few steps forward, toward the wall. The table that held the row of aquariums was now missing its aquatic inhabitants. The thin black drape hung down to the floor, pooling by Tristan’s feet. He cocked his head, stretched out his hand, fingers running over the smooth brick.
“Wait a second…” Tristan leaned forward. “Look at this.”
I went over to his side, leaned over the table. Tristan’s finger traced a clear line in the brick, one that I had completely missed. I followed it up, to the left, back down, disappearing behind the table.
“Holy fuck,” I said. “Help me with this.”
Tristan grabbed one end of the table, and I grabbed the other. We moved it to the center of the room and went back to the wall. The seam was so obvious to me now. How the hell did I miss it?
“You’re good, Trist.” I grabbed his face in my hands and kissed him. Hard. “Just don’t come for my job, alright?”
He gave me a wink and a cocky grin. “Maybe we can open up our own agency together. Sherlock and Watson, except we’re a fanfic where they fuck. A lot.”
I kissed him again. Couldn’t help it. “I like that plan,” I said, turning back to the hidden door. I put a hand on the brick that looked the most worn-out, likely out of years of use. It moved, inches at first, until something gave way and the entire chunk of brick wall opened up wide, revealing a glowing purple and blue room behind it.
The glow came from two massive aquariums, much larger than any of the ones that had been in the previous room. The water was crystal clear, and clown fish of all types swam inside them, drifting in and out of a bed of bright anemones glowing a neon blue and red under the aquarium lights. There were potted plants that had timed lamps attached to them, thriving up toward the ground, as if knowing the sun was only a couple of feet away. There was a small cot with a stack of books next to it. I recognized the topmost book: Twisting Razors. The same book we were reading in Tristan’s book club.
At least the Midnight Chemist had good taste in books, if not a little too on the nose.
“This is… insane.” Tristan looked around the room, the blue and purple glow bouncing off his pearl necklace.
“It’s a hideout inside of a hideout. I can’t believe the cops missed this.” I looked to Tristan, appreciative of him facing his fears to be here. “And without you, I might have missed it, too.”
“You would have found it,” Tristan said with a dismissive wave. He went to a shelf, the clear case containing a row of clearly labeled vials.
Actinostephanus haeckeli.
Phyllodiscus semoni.
T. stephensoni.
A quick Google search revealed what we were looking at. “These are some of the most toxic sea anemone species in existence,” I said, looking back at the tanks containing what now appeared to be a farm of powerful venom. They seemed harmless, like a rainbow-colored garden—only underwater. But I remember learning quickly after my Jungle Warfare training anything bright and colorful was likely lethal as all hell. The unnatural colors were supposed to serve as a warning.
I opened the glass case and picked out a vial. “There’s a lot number,” I said, tilting over the vial of milky liquid. “Maybe these weren’t bought that long ago.”
Tristan nodded, smiling. “It could be how we find this fucker.”