Chapter 11: Lobby

Emmeline stood up abruptly. Her heels cli-click cli-clicked across the polished black granite floor, echoes emphasizing the emptiness of the cavernous lobby. Alex watched her hips snap with every step, her movements those of an uneasy predator. The shredded sheen of her stockings betrayed a harrowing night of tested limits. Reflections of halogen spotlights slithered over the perfect gloss of her blood-red coat like sparks in a flame. Alex wondered how much longer her flame could burn so brightly.

This brave, amazing woman had faced numerous trials in the past hours, somehow emerging stronger each time, but now it seemed as if the simple act of waiting would unravel her.

She looked at the elevators, then out at the street, then back to the elevators. A stylish analog clock embedded in the wall above the elevators showed about three minutes to midnight.

"Why aren't they here?" she asked.
"It's not time yet."
"Two minutes? It takes longer than that to cross the street."
"He's probably in the building already."
Em started toward the elevators. She stopped halfway, just past the pair of massive round columns, hands on her hips, staring at the elevator lights as if they'd just insulted her. "How do we know I'm not supposed to meet him in his office, or on the roof, or in the basement?"

Alex leaned back on the long bench, thumping his head against the wall. "I'm sure your grandfather would have told you that."

"How do you know he didn't? Maybe he did and I just wasn't paying attention."
"Em, stop it."
"He told me to bring the axe to this address by 23:59, and not to tell Grams. But I did tell her. Maybe that changed things, ruined the ceremony or something. Maybe that's why they didn't want me to try to get the axe back, because they knew it was already too late. Maybe that's why nobody's coming."

"Em, that doesn't make any sense. How could that matter? And what were you supposed to do?"

Em whirled around. "I don't know, Alex, that's the problem! I don't know what I'm supposed to do!" She threw up her hands. "I'm not ready for this! I should know what to do but I don't! It's my family, it's my legacy, and I pushed it away, and now it's too late!" She waved angrily toward the clock.

"It's not too late. You don't even know if anything's supposed to happen at midnight -- all he told you was to be here, and you're here." Emmeline was anxious for something to happen; Alex's anxiety was that she might get her wish. "You went through more than anyone expected you to, and you're still here."

Em started toward Alex. "And what good does that do if I don't know what to do next? Granddad told me all those stories for a reason." She spun back toward the front door. "There's something I'm supposed to remember, something I'm supposed to do." She stopped and looked at Alex. "You remember what Chester said -- they figured out a way to keep the... beast from Crossing. Something I'm supposed to do, with that." She gestured toward the axe, which leaned up against the edge of the bench just a few inches from Alex's right hand. And then she was off again, back toward the elevator. "Something Granddad taught me, something he had to teach me, something he would have expected me to remember, or else he wouldn't have sent me. Something I should have learned, something I should remember..." She spun around; she was officially pacing now, and it was wearing Alex out. "But all I can think of is running around playing stupid games, pretending to rip out people's souls or chop their heads off. That and that stupid phrase about blades and blood, which I've been fucking chanting in my head for the last hour thinking maybe if I say it out loud something's going to happen."

"So go ahead," Alex said, stopped her in her tracks. "It can't hurt."

Em rolled her eyes and looked toward the ceiling, letting out a frustrated sigh.
"By Winter's hand the blade is brought; it is our blood that binds."
She lowered her head, staring out at the street. Her voice was a bored sing-song. "By Winter's hand the blade is brought; it is our blood that binds."
She whirled around, glaring at the clock.
This time it was loud, with an angry edge. "By Winter's hand the blade is brought; it is our blood that binds."

She put her hands on her hips, and turned to Alex. "You hear that?"

Alex craned his neck; he didn't hear anything. "What?"
"Exactly!" She threw up her hands again. "I'm standing here in the middle of the night chanting some phrase my Granddad taught me like it's some magic incantation! If anybody else was here they'd think I was crazy!"

He tried to sound as serious and comforting as possible. "I'm here and I don't think you're crazy."
"Exactly! It's crazy because it's not crazy!" She made a beeline for him again. This time she made it, and she stood over him. He looked up. "What'd Jovie call them, Play-Doh People?" He nodded. "Little monsters without eyes made out of I-don't-know-what running around killing people? There is no crazy after that!" She stomped her foot at that; it sounded like a small pistol shot. "Granddad told me a thousand stories about all kinds of wild stuff, and I'm supposed to dig through all that and know what to do?" He could hear exhausted desperation creeping into her voice.