These Games We Play

chapter thirty:Davenport

Oren went up first, then returned-via pole, not slide. "Room's clear," he told me. "But if you try to climb up, you might pull a stitch." The fact that he'd mentioned my injury in front of Nash told me something. Either Oren wanted to see how he would respond, or he trusted Nash Hawthorne.

"What injury?" Nash asked, taking the bait.

"Someone shot at Eva," Oren said carefully. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, Nash?"

"If I did," Nash replied, his voice low and deadly, "it would already be handled."

"Nash." Oren gave him a look that probably meant stay out of it. But from what I'd been able to tell, "staying out of it" wasn't really a Hawthorne trait.

"I'll be going now," Nash said casually. "I have some questions to ask my people." His people-including May. I watched Nash saunter off, then turned back to Oren.

"You knew he would go talk to the staff."

"I know they'll talk to him," Oren corrected. "And besides, you blew the element of surprise last night."

"They're my best friends. Besides I made Jameson call them so they would have worked it out."

"Grayson and your sister?"

"My sister is my legal guardian and needed to know. Grayson is a nosey prick that needs to know everything. The fact Skye knew I take no responsibility for." I said, then I turned to the room overhead. "I'm going up."

"I didn't see a desk up there," Oren told me. I walked over to the pole and grabbed hold.

"I'm going up anyway." I started to pull myself up, but the pain stopped me. Oren was right. I couldn't climb. I stepped back from the pole, then glanced to my left. If I couldn't make it up the pole, it would have to be the slide.

☆☆☆☆

The last library in Hawthorne House was small. The ceiling sloped to form a pyramid overhead. The shelves were plain and only came up to my waist. They were full of children's books. Well-worn, well-loved, some of them familiar in a way that made me ache to sit and read. But I didn't, because as I stood there, I felt a breeze. It wasn't coming from the window, which was closed. It came from the shelves on the back wall-no. As I walked closer, I discovered that it was coming from a crack between the two shelves. There's something back there. My heart caught like a breath stuck in my throat. Starting with the shelf on the right, I latched my fingers around the top of the shelf and pulled. I didn't have to pull hard. The shelf was on a hinge. As I pulled, it rotated outward, revealing a small opening. This was the first secret passage I'd discovered on my own. It was strangely exhilarating, like standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon or holding a priceless work of art in your hands. Heart pounding, I ducked through the opening and found a staircase. Traps upon traps, I thought, and riddles upon riddles. Gingerly, I walked down the steps. As I got farther from the light above, I had to pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight so I could see where I was going. I should go back for Oren. I knew that, but I was going faster now-down the steps, twisting, turning, until I reached the bottom.

There, holding a flashlight of his own, was Grayson Hawthorne. He turned toward me. My heartbeat viciously, but I didn't step back. I looked past Grayson and saw the only piece of furniture on the landing of the hidden stairs.

A Davenport.

"Evangeline. " Grayson greeted me, then turned back to the desk.

"Have you found it yet?" I asked him. "The Davenport clue?"

"I was waiting." I couldn't quite read his tone.

"For what?" Grayson looked up from the desk, silver eyes catching mine in the dark.