The Thirteenth Skull (Alfred Kropp 3) - Page 16

“This? Alfred, isn’t this ... ?”

“The Seal of Solomon. Put it somewhere safe and don’t tell anyone where you’ve put it. Nobody, understand?”

“Even you?”

“Especially me.”

He nodded. His fingers were shaking as he slipped the ring into his pocket.

“He tried to warn me,” I said.

“Who?”

“Samuel. He said they could be ruthless.”

“Apparently so.”

“Unless it wasn’t them. But if it wasn’t them, who was it?”

“Alfred, if I may offer some advice. Perhaps, given what happened today, you should give Ms. Smith and her associates what they want.”

“They had their chance,” I said. “But I’ll think about it.”

“It might be the price you have to pay.”

“The price for what?”

“For staying alive.”

13:12:08:40

A cruiser took me to St. Mary’s Hospital on Broadway, where I was escorted to the psych floor and put in a room with a door that locked from the outside. There wasn’t even a handle on the inside part of the door.

There was no phone in the room, no TV, and everything was padded—the bed, the small dresser, even the corners of the windowsills. No sharp corners anywhere.

I sat in a chair and played with this little metal ring that hung from the side of the bed. Another ring was at the foot, and two more on the opposite side. I realized the rings were for the straps they used to tie you down.

A nurse’s aide came in with a tray and hung by the door while I ate. I told her I’d rather eat alone—it kind of creeped me out, her standing there—but she said that was against the rules. She avoided making eye contact with me.

“When are they coming?” I asked.

“Who?”

“The experts who decide if I’m nuts or not.”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I just bring the food.”

“Where’s ICU?”

She didn’t say anything for a second. “Second floor.”

She knocked on the door. It was opened by a huge orderly with a smushed-in face, like a bulldog. They left me alone. I crawled into bed. I was very tired. She had brought me a pain pill with the food and, though I really thought I shouldn’t, I took the pill.

I closed my eyes. I tried to sleep and couldn’t. How was I getting out of a room with a door that had no handle, locked from the outside, and a huge orderly with a face like a bulldog posted in the hall?

I don’t know how much time passed—they took my watch and there wasn’t a clock in the room—when I heard the door lock snap open.

A man stepped into the room. He wasn’t wearing a doctor’s white lab coat. He was wearing a tailored suit. The suit was blue. The tie was red. The hair was long and dark and the eyes even darker. He was carrying a black cane with a gold handle, though he didn’t walk with any limp that I could see.

Tags: Rick Yancey Alfred Kropp Fantasy
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