Head Dead West by Oliver Atlas

Author:Oliver Atlas [Atlas, Oliver]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oliver Atlas

Chapter Thirty-Six

Surprises

I suppose the hallway’s gauzy lighting is meant to set a romantic mood. It matches the thick gold and crimson Persian rugs lining the floors, the parchment-like walls and their burnt orange crown moulding.

Right.

Couples coming to Union Powder for romance.

As I scan the passages for Milly and Damon, the thought makes me chuckle darkly. Nothing like being afloat in a sea of the living dead to fire up all the old animal instincts.

Their room must be nearby. They must already be in it. What number did she say?

I pass rooms 25 through 30, turn a corner to the stern of the ship, and find 31, 32 . . . and 33. That was it. I knock. “Room service.”

“One second,” calls Milly from behind the door, almost too gently to hear.

A minute passes. Two minutes. Three.

I knock again, this time louder. “Law enforcement. Open the door.”

“Just a second,” comes the hushed voice again, a note of warning in it.

Okay. I wait another minute, two, three, four. I’m just about to kick in the door when I hear footsteps. The doorknob turns silently and Milly slips out, closing the door behind her with one hand and rubbing her neck with another. Feeling peevish, annoyed, hurt, angry, and a few other unpleasant emotions, I’m about to lay into her when she quickly peers right and left and grabs my hand. She trots down the hallway, dragging me behind.

I’m not amused. “Milly, what the—”

“Here we are,” she says, pushing through swinging double doors to a small, empty lounge. The room has two leather couches, a small sink with a counter and coffee grinder, a bookshelf made of oak and brass, and a small wood burning stove. As soon as the doors swing shut, Milly practically tackles me. “Blake!” she cries, attacking my cheek with a flurry of kisses. “You came back for me!” She kisses my chin and my neck. “I knew you would. And you’ve been magnificent.” She kisses my eyes and nose. “Everything—from your ostentatious entry, to picking a fight with Vandercain, to pretending to take up with whores and hate my guts—you drew almost all the suspicion away from me.”

I hope I don’t look as clueless as I feel, but I’m pretty sure my face is red from anger and embarrassment and that my mouth is hanging open.

“There isn’t much time,” rushes Milly, kissing my cheek again. “I’ve drugged Damon so—”

“You drugged Damon?”

“Of course. What do you think my blue vial contained? It was almost too easy. Slipped enough tranquilizer in his drink to keep him dreaming for two days. Maplenut will be livid.” Milly nearly suppresses a gleeful cackle. “Tonight is the night. Now that he’s out of our hair, we can go get Jenny and get out of here. We’ve got at least three hours before the Gala ends and Yaverts finds out she’s gone. With any luck, he’ll get drunk or seduced and won’t get home until morning.”

“What about Schlozfield?” I say. “I thought finding him was your priority?”

“It is! But you remember what Sheriff Sanchez said: let him come to us.

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