All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [61]
“Then,” Sealiah said, glancing at her game of Towers, “we will have him.”
16
BREAKFAST SPECIAL
Eliot ran along the sidewalk. Fiona raced him to the spot on the granite wall where the entrance to Paxington hid in plain sight.
He’d gotten a few paces ahead of her because she had to dodge a flower cart parked on the sidewalk (and she was too prissy to run around it on the street—even a few feet).
He stopped at the wall, touched it, and panted.
She shrugged as if to say, Whatever—I let you, but couldn’t speak because she was breathing too heavily.
Eliot knew they wouldn’t be late today—absolutely not.
He’d learned how to set the alarm on his new phone and gotten up extra early. He hadn’t wanted to take any chances, though, so he and Fiona raced all the way from the breakfast table down through Pacific Heights, onto Lombard Street to here.
Eliot opened his phone, double-checking that they had plenty of time to make it to class. They did.
He found the crack in the wall, focused on it, and this time it was easy to slip around the corner that shouldn’t exist.
It still felt weird.
Fiona came in right behind him.
The alley to Paxington was shaded, and the ivy-covered walls cooled the already chilly air. Café Eridanus was full, the outdoor tables taken by older students eating pastries and drinking lattes before school started.
Eliot paused and inhaled scents wafting from the café: freshly ground coffee and steamed milk, a slightly charred citrus odor from flaming crêpes suzettes, melting butter, bacon, and sourdough bread just out of the oven.
“Come on,” Fiona said, and moved toward the gate.
Eliot’s stomach complained, and he lingered. He would die if he had to sit through an entire lecture, or at the very least, he wouldn’t be able to hear Miss Westin speaking over his grumbling digestive tract.
“Just a sec,” he said. “I’ll grab a bite—”
Eliot’s mind halted mid-thought. Even his stomach stopped rumbling.
His father sat at one of the outdoor café tables under the sky blue canopy. Three older Paxington boys stood around him, so Eliot hadn’t seen him at first.
The plates and coffee cups at his table had been shoved aside. Louis moved his hands over the tablecloth, shuffling three cards.
“Don’t take your eyes off it this time,” Louis told the boys. “Not for an instant!”
Eliot edged closer. Fiona was right behind him.
Louis’s cards were facedown on the table, and each creased down the center so they could be easily manipulated. One was dog-eared. Another had a water spot in the center.
Eliot felt something off . . . and understood Louis was trying to fool the boys by making the shuffling look so simple and the cards so easy to identify.
“Now,” Louis asked the boys. “Where is the Queen of Spades?”
“That one.” A boy pointed to the center card.
Another told him, “No, it’s the one on the right.”
Louis smiled. “Are you sure?”
He looked up as he said this, and caught Eliot’s eyes. Something passed between them, a slight tilt of the head, recognition, and an invitation to watch and learn.
“I’m sure,” the boy said, “the center card. Flip it already and pay up.”
Louis obliged. The card was the three of hearts.
“I’m sorry,” Louis said, genuinely sounding sad. “You’ll get it next time, I’m sure.” He scooped their money off the table.
The boys asked for one more game, but Louis said no. “I have other customers this morning.” He gestured at Eliot and Fiona.
The three boys left, muttering and arguing over how they had lost track of the queen.
Eliot and Fiona moved to the table.
“You came here to see us, didn’t you?” Eliot asked.
“Of course, my boy.” Louis clasped him warmly by the shoulder. “You look dashing in that uniform, by the way. The girls shall swoon.”
Eliot felt instantly two feet taller.
Louis turned to Fiona. “And you, my dearest Fiona, you look . . .” He gesticulated with his hands, but couldn’t find the right words