The Oracle Year(65)

“Fine. All good. Done.”

Leigh endured a surge of nervous elation so intense that it left her feeling hollowed out, like a spent Roman candle. She felt her face stretch into a wide, unhinged smile.

“Look, I know you’re happy, Ms. Shore,” Reimer said. He seemed exhausted, like he’d suddenly realized he was completely unprepared for the life he found himself living. “You won. Congratulations. But please at least think about what you’ve won. I think most people would stay a thousand miles away from anything like this. I sure as hell would.”

Reimer cast a glance at his flask, then back to Leigh.

“I almost deleted the Oracle’s e-mail the second I got it. I mean, what do we actually know about him? Or her? Or it? Nothing, nothing at all, except that the Oracle can apparently do magic and doesn’t want anyone to know who he is. Doesn’t that . . . scare you? Because it scares me.”

Reimer stood up and held out his hand.

“If I’d known he would answer, I’d never have asked,” he said.

Leigh took the offered hand. They shook.

“Too late now,” she said.

The lights went out.

Leigh dropped Reimer’s hand, looking up at the ceiling in confusion. The darkness was . . . complete, which was unsettling. It was never dark in New York.

There was always someone else’s window, a neon sign, a late-night restaurant that leaked its illumination into your sight line. But now—nothing. Leigh released Reimer’s hand and walked carefully across the office to the big window behind his desk. He had already turned to look out at the city, and she took up a position beside him.

It took her a moment to understand what she was seeing.

No lights in the windows of the building across the street. Leigh craned her neck to look up and down Third Avenue. Other than the lights of cars on the streets below, no signs of electricity in any direction.

Somewhere downtown, a siren began to wail.





Chapter 25




MacAvoy’s was dark. Sounds of confusion filled the bar, accompanied by a few alcohol-soaked, derisive boos.

“What’s this then?” the sailor holding Will’s shirt said. His grip slackened slightly.

Will took the opportunity and wrenched himself backward. His shirt came free, and he grabbed Hamza’s coat sleeve.

“Come on!” he shouted.

They slipped toward the front of the bar. Splinters of light from car headlights came in through the big plateglass windows, supplemented by people holding lighters and cell phones over their heads. A delay as they pushed their way through the knot of people shoving their way outside.

They ran to the corner. Will glanced back, but it didn’t look like anyone had decided to follow them. He slowed to a stop, panting, feeling his heart throb.

“I think we’re okay,” he said.

Hamza leaned against the side of the nearest building, catching his breath. He held up a hand in acknowledgment.

Will looked up the avenue. People had spilled out of every bar and restaurant and were goggling up at the city gone dark all around them, their breath steaming in the cold April air.

“What’s going on?” Hamza said.

“Blackout,” Will answered.

“I can see that. I wonder if it’s the whole city. Did the Oracle see this coming?”

“Nope,” Will said. “Surprised me as much as it did you.”

Hamza tried his cell phone.

“No signal,” he said. “Weird. The phones still worked down here when Sandy shut the power off below Fourteenth. The towers are on a separate grid from the rest of the city’s power.”

“Maybe they changed it since then. Who were you trying to call? Miko?”

“Yeah. I’m sure she’s fine—we have tons of candles, batteries, all that. Just want to let her know I’m okay.”

Will looked up and, for the first time he could remember, saw stars in the city’s sky.

“What are the chances the trains are running?”

“No chance,” Hamza answered.

“Mm,” Will said. “You know, there had to be people on the subway when this happened, down in the tunnels.”

Hamza shuddered.

An aproned man stepped out of a nearby bar and set down a sign with a message chalked on it, letting passersby know that the taps were still flowing, but it was cash only until the lights came back on.

Will gestured at the sign, giving Hamza a questioning look.

“No, man. I just want to get home,” Hamza said.

Will nodded.

“Yeah. All right. Probably for the best,” he said. He looked uptown. “I guess we’re walking.”

“I guess we are. Figures,” Hamza said. “Stupid sailors had to pick a bar way the hell down in the Village. No way in hell we’ll find a free cab. Not tonight. I’ve got like fifty blocks to walk, and it can’t be much over thirty degrees out.”

“Could be worse. You could live on Ninety-Fourth.”

“Yeah,” Hamza said. “That would suck.”

Will shot him a look.

“I’m just playing around,” Hamza said. “Come back to my place. Sleep on the foldout tonight.”

“You sure? Miko won’t mind?” Will said.