“Ugh!” I said. “Idiot! I’ll meet you at the car.”
I turned and huffed off to the W tunnel, put my head down, and stomped and swore, following the yellow splotches. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” I said. “I can’t believe I got talked into this harebrained idea.” A spider as big as a silver dollar dropped onto my arm, and I backhanded it off into the black beyond. “Special abilities, my foot. Enhanced senses. See where that gets you. For sure not out of a twenty-foot hole. At least I can make cupcakes.” I passed through the smaller domed room, and several sets of glittery little eyes reflected light from my headlamp. The eyes started to move toward me and I yelled at them. “Do not mess with me. I’m not in a good mood. Shoo!”
I marched through yet another tunnel, on a rant about Diesel and rats and roaches, and I looked ahead and saw the ladder. I was up the ladder and out the trapdoor and revolving door in a heartbeat. I took my headlamp off, ran my hands through my hair, and shook myself to make sure I didn’t have hitchhikers. I took a minute to calm myself, and then I left the building and walked out into the night air.
By the time I got to the car, I was worrying about Diesel and Carl. Diesel was down there without a map or yellow paint splotches to guide him. He was a big, strong guy. He was brave. He was smart. He could block bad energy and do who knows what else. None of that would help if a tunnel caved in.
An hour later, I was still waiting. I watched my cell phone for a text message, and I tried calling Diesel’s phone. Nothing turned up on either. I was cold and I was scared. The car was locked. My purse was inside the car. A man and a monkey I loved, at least some of the time, were trapped underground. I decided I’d give Diesel until ten o’clock, and then I’d get people into the tunnels to search for him.
A little after nine, I was sitting on the curb by the Aston Martin, and I felt hands at my waist and was lifted to my feet.
“I was worried about you,” Diesel said, wrapping his arms around me, holding me close. “I should have been more careful.”
He kissed me, and just when it was getting really interesting, Carl climbed up my back and sat on my head.
Diesel took Carl off my head and remoted the car open. “I was afraid you might leave without me.”
“I didn’t have a car key.”
Diesel opened the door for me. “Is that the only reason?”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t leave Carl stranded.”
Carl rushed into the car and jumped into the backseat. Carl was ready to go home.
I blew out a sigh. “I wouldn’t leave you stranded, either.”
“You were worried about me,” Diesel said.
“Yes.”
Diesel handed the broken tablet to me. It was marble, with engraved writing, and if it had been whole, it would have been the size of a legal envelope.
“Is this the tablet?” he asked me.
“I can’t say for certain, but chances are very good. Its energy is identical to that of the stone.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“You’ve been frozen in one spot, staring into that bowl of frosting, for the last ten minutes,” Clara said to me. “Are you asleep?”
“I had a late night. I don’t know how I used to do it when I worked restaurant shifts and got by on four hours of sleep.”
The back door opened and Glo walked in. She dropped her messenger bag on the floor, along with Broom and her jean jacket, and she shuffled off to get her bakery smock.
“I’m done,” Glo said. “I didn’t sleep all night. I need coffee.”
Clara wiped her hands on a towel. “I could swear I hear music.”
“It’s Hatchet,” Glo said. “He followed me here. I can’t get rid of him. He was outside my window all night, playing his lute and singing embarrassing songs to me. I couldn’t get him to stop. If he keeps this up, I’m going to get evicted.”
Clara and I went to the door and looked out at Hatchet. He was dressed up in his Sunday best, wearing a slouchy green velvet hat with a big plum-colored plume.
“O Glo, O Glo, I love thee so,” he sang. He strummed a couple notes on his lute and bowed to us. “I bid thee morning, fair women. Wouldst fair Glo wish to hear my tune?”
“No!” Glo yelled from inside the kitchen. “Go away!”
“She jests,” Hatchet said. “Glo is witty. Glo is pretty. Glo doth make my heart sore, my manhood sing.”
Clara closed and locked the back door.
“I’m going to throw up if I have to hear any more about his manhood,” Glo said. “It’s just wrong to be singing about it while you’re playing a lute.”
She went to the front shop, turned the CLOSED sign to OPEN, and unlocked the front door. I brought out the last tray of cupcakes and transferred them into the display case, and spotted Hatchet on the sidewalk. I could see him through the front window, strumming and singing to people passing by.