The Autumn Prince

42. Ties That Bind

She stood, shouldering her purse, and dropped a dollar on the table. "I'm on the street."

Unless she decided to drive behind the building, she wouldn't see Willy, so I let myself relax a bit. I wasn't sure why I didn't want Gloria to know that the girls were with me. I'd come intending to bring her back to Meridian anyway, but at that moment I felt wary, as if I'd forgotten something important.

Her dad drove a shiny, black Mercedes, and I could see why she'd be keen to adopt it. I hadn't known her family had money, but it didn't stand out as unusual. BAU's tuition wasn't cheap, and most students came from affluent homes. I was simply glad for the extra space allowing for more room between me and the driver. Even with my arms covered in a light jacket, I felt exposed.

We traveled in silence and Gloria parked beside the curb directly across from a familiar blue building. "Stewart Hall?" I said as we exited the car. Gloria simply nodded and crossed the street. "Is something wrong with it?"

"It's inside," she answered and walked past the front doors, along the overgrown sidewalk, to the back entrance and pulled it open. I stopped for a second, trying to understand why it felt so wrong. She held the door for me while I hesitated. "Are you coming?"

A chill went down my spine as I stepped across the threshold and I cringed when the door latched shut behind me. Inside there were two sets of stairs, one leading to the upper floors, and the other into a cellar. Without hesitating, she took the flight downward.

"It's just in here," Gloria said with a shadowy glance over her shoulder. I started to speak, but she shushed and motioned for me to follow. There were no lights in the stairwell, but an orange glow shone beneath the door at the bottom. She pushed it open.

The basement was unfinished with a concrete floor and cinderblock walls that were once whitewashed. Stacks of boxes told me the building was still used for storage, but they'd been pushed aside to make room for a wide, open space into which someone had moved a pair of camp chairs, a futon, and what had to be hundreds of candles, flickering in the relative darkness. The door swung shut behind me on its own.

"Does someone live here?" I asked, wrinkling my nose at the lingering scent of burning herbs. Gloria nodded, then shed her jacket and dropped it on the bed before finally turning to face me. She was trembling slightly, restless, as if in anticipation, and the predatory smile on her face made me take an involuntary step back. Crossing her arms, she grabbed the hem of her shirt, and pulled it off.

"Gloria, what are you doing?" I asked with a quiver in my voice. She had only kissed my cheek, and more than enough time had passed for any lingering effects to wear off. Had I somehow affected her mind when that tangle of power broke free? On the verge of panic, I took another step toward the door. It was locked. As I turned to confront her again, she kicked off her shoes and slipped out of her jeans, milk-chocolate skin shining in the warm light, her white bra and panties practically glowing in contrast.

"Don't worry, Tom. I'm not doing it for you," she shivered visibly, but it had nothing to do with the cold.

"Hello, boy," a deep voice drawled from the shadows beneath the stair, and I spun in a near panic, tripped over my own feet, and landed painfully on the concrete. A tall man in a long, gray traveling coat emerged from the darkness, his salt and pepper hair belying a lined but ageless face. I sensed the truth long before I could admit it to myself.

"What—who are you?" I stammered, crab walking backward until my shoulders pressed against a large cardboard box.

The man reached into his coat and pulled out a dirty, brown cigarette, lighting the tip and taking a deep lungful of smoke. Then he cocked his head at Gloria and smirked, mocking. "Who told you to stop?"