“What? Wha’ bad deaph?” Sam said around a mouthful of sandwich. “Don’t like the sound of that, either.”
“Wai-Mae said the ghost had a bad death. But we don’t know how she died. All we know is that our dream walk starts the same way each night: Wai-Mae runs past us toward Devlin’s Clothing Store. Beach’s pneumatic train station was built under Devlin’s Clothing Store on Broadway and Warren, near the City Hall station. There’s got to be something down there that’s important to her. But I don’t know what.”
On the Chesterfield, Henry’s fingers stiffened as he was caught in the net of dreaming. Two new burn marks appeared on his neck.
“Whatever you’re gonna do, let’s get started,” Theta said. “Please.”
Memphis put a hand on Henry’s arm. “I could try to heal him.”
Theta reached over and slipped her hand into Memphis’s. “She almost killed you last time.”
“But this time I won’t fall for her tricks.”
“No,” Ling said sharply. “You can’t protect yourself once you’re inside a dream. Anything can happen. You’ll be caught, just like Henry. It has to be me. I’m awake inside the dream. It’s different. I’ll go after Henry.”
“And what if that doesn’t work?” Jericho asked.
“It has to work.”
“But what if it doesn’t?” Jericho persisted.
Ling looked over at Henry. “We go into the tunnels. Find what’s so important to Wai-Mae that it keeps her here.”
Loud, haphazard pounding reverberated through the museum, as if someone was knocking and kicking the front door at the same time. And then a muffled voice yelled, “Hey! Lemme in! ’S freezing out here!”
“Evie!” Mabel said.
They opened the front door to see Evie leaning against the doorjamb. Her mascara was smudged and she reeked of gin.
“As promised, I should like to offer my services to the cause of this swell creepy-crawly party,” she said and gave a flourish of a bow, smacking her head. “Ow! Whennid you put in that wall?”
“Evil, are you blotto?” Theta demanded.
“Cerrrtainly not,” Evie mumbled. She blew out a gust of boozy air, lifting a curl from her forehead. “Well. Perhaps a soooo-sahn. That’s French. I know some French… avous.”
“Holy smokes,” Theta said, throwing her hands in the air. “Just what we need.”
Evie barged in, knocking a tray of poppet dolls from a side table onto the floor. “Uh-oh. Your poppets are pooped,” she said, giggling.
“Go home, Evie. We got enough trouble here,” Sam said, directing her back toward the door.
Evie wobbled around him. “Unhand me, fiancé!”
“I am not your fiancé. It was a publicity stunt, remember?”
“Right,” Evie said, nearly swallowing the word.
“Your engagement isn’t real?” Jericho said.
Evie peered up at Jericho and quickly averted her eyes. “I can assure you that the feelings Sam Sergei Lloyd Lubovitch has for any girl are nothin’ but an act.”
Evie stumbled a bit, and Jericho caught her. He kept his arm around her shoulders. “I’ve got you.”
Mabel took it all in, a weight in her stomach. “I’ll make coffee,” she said dully and walked the long hall back to the kitchen.
“I have not missed this joint,” Evie announced as she tottered down the hall toward the library. She swilled from her flask, dribbling gin down her chin and onto the front of her dress. “Oops. The Sweetheart Seer did not see that coming.”
Sam replaced her flask with a cup. “Drink this.”
Evie turned doleful eyes to him. “Why you do this? What’d I ever do to you?” She took a sip and grimaced. “Tastes like water.”
“It is water.”
“You know what the trouble with this water is? There’s no gin in it,” she said, shoving the cup back at him. “Say, I thought this was a party! Where is everybody?” Evie said, twirling around unsteadily. She stopped when she saw Ling. “How do you do,” she said, moving toward Ling, her hand outstretched. “I’m Evangeline O’Neill.”