There is a parquet floor beneath my feet and antique sconces on the walls. The record is decades old, and for a moment I feel timeless, weightless, and unafraid.
When we make it to the other side of the room, Noah leans a little closer and lowers his voice.
“So last night …” he starts, and it all comes rushing back to me.
The cliffs.
The party.
The Scarred Man.
I’m starting to shake as Noah goes on. “We aren’t going to have a repeat of that little performance anytime soon, are we?”
“Did Alexei feed you that line or did you come up with it all on your own?” I ask.
We dance a little more. From the other side of the room, I can hear Ms. Chancellor chanting, “One two three. One two three.”
“What you did was dangerous. You know that, right? It was insanely, ridiculously, freakishly dangerous.”
I stare up at him. “It was a calculated risk.”
“Chin up, Noah. Shoulders back!” Ms. Chancellor chides.
“Besides, if I’m not mistaken, I kind of saved your sister’s hide,” I tell him. It’s meant to sting, but he smiles instead.
“Thank you.” He glances away. “Don’t do it again. But thank you.”
“You’re not the one who owes me,” I point out.
He nods. “Yeah, well, Lila is … Lila. I’m just grateful that she didn’t eat me in the womb.”
“Grace, dear, the waltz is not what one would call a humorous dance,” Ms. Chancellor scolds when I start laughing.
“Noah?” I say once I’ve regained my composure.
“What?” Noah asks.
“Do people ever go in there?”
“Where?”
“There,” I say.
“In the Iranian embassy?” Noah whispers, glancing to where Ms. Chancellor stands on the far side of the room, thumbing through a stack of records. “Is that what you’re asking? Do people ever go in the Iranian embassy?”
“I take that as a no.”
“No. That’s an are you out of your mind? Wait — what am I saying?” he asks with a shake of his head. “You jumped off a cliff. Of course you’re out of your mind.”
“It’s just …” I can’t find the words — or maybe the strength — to finish.
“It’s just what?” There’s an edge to Noah’s voice. He’s known me less than twenty-four hours and already he knows he should be worried about whatever is going to come next.
“I heard something.” As I say it, the music fades away. In my mind, I can hear the creaking floor, the scurrying vermin. And the voices. I can see the man with the scar.
I cannot forget the man with the scar.
“When I was in there,” I go on, “I thought I heard something.”
“The place has been abandoned for years. The whole building is probably falling down. Half the rats in Valancia live in there. I’m sure you heard a lot of things.”
The needle scratches. The music stops for real this time. In the silence I whisper, “Voices, Noah. I heard voices.”
“You did not hear voices.”
“But —”
“No one goes in there, Grace. No one. And that includes you. Okay?”
“Okay,” I tell him.
“Okay,” Ms. Chancellor parrots the word but not the tone. She slaps her hands together, obviously pleased with our morning thus far. “I believe we are ready for phase two.”