The elevator operator had directed Leander to take the hallway on his right to reach the party on the roof. There, he would find Ilan Potestas, and give him the gift from Louis, along with his message: the company will be taken over tomorrow. Sounded simple enough, even if Leander had no clue why that would be good or bad. Louis had said Potestas wouldn't like it. Leander briefly wondered why he was listening to Louis at all, and what would happen to him if he abandoned his instructions entirely and wandered off into the snow.
Probably homelessness and an empty belly.
His imagination could come up with worse fates, all kinds of painful things that could happen when he introduced himself to Mr. Potestas — but considering Leander had just bled out from a fatal gun wound and left everything he had ever known behind, there was little anyone could do to him at this point. And parties typically offered finger food.
And so, Leander came out of the elevator into an abandoned cream marble foyer, a perfectly spherical white dwarf lighting it from above. His first thought was that these people worshipped orbs, or the sun; the oversized globe filled too much of the space. It was claustrophobic.
The hallway on the right had windows that reached impossibly high; he went straight along wondering whether the highest ceilings he had ever seen were real or an illusion. He only stopped when he reached an intersection, listening around the corner.
No one was there.
One and a half steps later, "Stop there," said a man in a golden fox mask, who stepped out from the hallway where all of Leander's instincts stubbornly insisted there had been no one a second ago. Leander stopped.
"You're armed," said Cristo.
"I'm not," Leander said. He raised his hands as if he had no problem if Cristo wanted to check.
Cristo tried not to laugh while he kept up the officer act. "It was detected upon your entry. You're carrying a weapon."
The thing Louis had given to Leander was tucked into Leander's suit pants. It was small and black with a round barrel. The handle was smooth wood and curved gently in the shape of his curled grip. There was no trigger. Part of the handle was wrapped in soft sand colored leather. Stylish. Even though it was metal, it was close to weightless.
With no trigger, Leander hadn't imagined it was a firearm. . .
"Hand it over, please. No arms inside."
Leander waited blank-faced to see what would happen if he didn't.
Cristo could only put on his most trustworthy almost-smile and say, "You can have it back when the party's over." Another second went by, and even though Cristo knew that Leander didn't know how to use the firearm, it was possible that he could fire it by accident — all it would take was a thought — and kill Cristo, and continue into the masquerade party with Louis' gun.
Before Cristo could even breathe again or realize that he had been holding his breath, the gun was safely in his hands and the dangerous moment passed without bloodshed. Leander told him, "It's for the boss, from Louis Reveur."
"You can give it to him yourself," said Cristo. Without another word, the two strangers separated at the intersection of hallways, Cristo back the way he had come and Leander on toward the doors at the end of the hallway that would let him out to the roof, the masquerade party, and the actual weapons detectors.
Three security guards patted Leander down one after the other, but it didn't strike him as unusual to have already been checked, not putting two and two together. Instead he wondered whether Mr. Potestas's bodyguard really meant to return the weapon — Louis's dying gift to the boss. And he wondered what he would do now that he had arrived at a party in a new world where he didn't know a single person and the one thing he had to do with himself had been taken from him.
Probably introduce himself to the boss anyway and hope it didn't land him in some dank, dark prison cell.
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