Chapter 20: The Wrong Guest

Adrien's POV

The footstep in the corridor belonged to a man with a camera.

I found him in an alcove behind a suit of armor, thin and nervous, with a long lens under his coat.

He jumped when I put a hand on his shoulder.

"Who hired you?" I asked.

"A lady. She paid in cash." He swallowed. "She said a girl would go in at midnight, and I was to take two pictures when the door opened."

"Which door?"

"Nine."

I took the camera from him and slid out its memory card.

I gave him back the camera, and a banknote that was a great deal larger than the one he had been given.

"You have been here all evening," I said. "You saw nothing. Go home."

He went, fast.

I stood alone in the dark corridor with the card in my pocket and the old banker's key in my hand.

For a year I had asked myself what I would do if I ever stood where I stood now.

In the first life, I had never stood there.

I had stood beside Élise in a pale room while she took the next step, and the next, and I had nodded.

I opened door nine.

The suite was warm and smelled of cigars and old leather.

The sitting room had a fire, a desk and a decanter.

Beyond it, a carved door stood half open on a bedroom with a lamp lit by the bed.

I did not go in.

I sat in the wing chair by the fire, took off my cuff links, and put them in my pocket in case I needed to use my hands.

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