Anathema (Causal Enchantment #1)(30)

Looking for evidence that I’m being drugged and dropped off in Central Park at night, I replied mentally. She’d likely keel over dead if I shared that. “Oh, just taking in the sights. I’m visiting from Maine,” I said instead, drawing a big gulp of soda through my straw.

“Oh, isn’t that lovely,” she replied. A typical old lady response.

We spent the next twenty minutes idly chatting about the differences between Portland and New York as the old lady fed the hungry birds and I finished my lunch. She was a sweet, grandmotherly type, eager to ramble on about her ten grandchildren and three great–grandchildren.

With the last chunks of bread devoured by the scavengers, she rose. “Well, it was nice to meet you …”

“Evangeline.”

“Evangeline. What a lovely name. Evangeline, I must be heading home now. It’s too cold out here for these old bones.”

“Goodbye,” I said, smiling.

“Are you going home now too?”

“Yeah, probably,” I said, crumpling up my hot dog wrapper. “I don’t think I’ll find what I was looking for.”

“Oh? And what was that?”

I hesitated. “A statue.”

She paused. “Anything in particular, dear?” she asked, her eyes squinting in query.

I described the white woman in detail to her. Those unusual hazel eyes widened. “Yes! I know the one you’re talking about. Just take the paths through Shakespeare Garden and you’ll find it.”

“Really? Thank you!” I said, feeling a mixture of distress and relief.

With that, she shuffled away, moving surprisingly quick for such an old lady.

I followed her directions and soon found myself deep within the park, surrounded by trees of all varieties, their leaves turning the colors of autumn. I was surprised how wooded and quiet it was with the city bustle so close by. It still didn’t look like my dream, but …

On and on I walked, searching. I wondered if Leonardo had discovered that I had snuck out yet. I hoped he wasn’t too worried. If I could just find this statue soon, I’d have the proof I need, I thought. It has to be around here somewhere.

Leaves rustled, stopping me dead. My head whipped toward the noise and I saw a stout, round–faced man walking a scruffy gray mutt of medium size. He had well–groomed, salt–and–pepper hair and a tidy mustache, and he was smartly dressed in a blue tweed coat and a matching plaid wool cap. A perfectly respectable–looking gentleman, I concluded, relaxing.

The dog’s front legs were practically off the ground as it pulled its owner toward me. When it reached me, the mutt sniffed my pant leg, let out a low growl, then lunged upward, snapping at my arm.

“Badger! Sit!” the man yelled, tugging the dog back sharply before its fangs could sink into my skin. Badger sat back on his haunches.

If only Max were here, I thought spitefully, glaring down at him. You’d be shaking in your hairy paws.

“I apologize, miss. Badger has issues with other dogs. He must have caught the scent of one on your clothing. He’s seeking therapy,” the man joked in a gentle voice, patting the dog’s head. I noticed a small tattoo of an angled cross on the fleshy part of his thumb.

I laughed along with him, keeping one eye on the mutt’s ugly face.

“Are you lost? You look lost,” he inquired.

“Oh, I’m looking for a statue that’s supposed to be around here …” I described the statue, hoping he could redirect me.

“Oh yes. This way,” the man said, smiling as he began moving off the path.

That’s right! There hadn’t been a path the night before. That, I would remember. I followed him with renewed excitement.

“Are you a tourist?” he asked.

“Is it that obvious?” I said, giggling.

“What brought you to the city?” he asked, veering into a more densely wooded area.

“Visiting friends.” Friends who paid someone to bite me and make me think I’m crazy.

He held a branch back for me to pass. “Friends … hmm … and have you known these friends long?”

“No.” I frowned. Why would he ask that?

“But you’re visiting them?” His eyes darted to our left, as if searching for something. Or someone.

Warning bells began sounding in my head. Get out of here. “Thanks for your help. I think I need to get home,” I squeaked.

It was too late, I realized, as I turned to see two scruffy men closing in behind me, one holding a gun.

9. Attacked

The two thugs smiled crookedly at me, one of them revealing a brown tooth. A pretty, young, round–faced woman of perhaps twenty–five, with shoulder–length auburn hair and rosy cheeks, stepped out from behind them.

Cold sweat trickled down my back as panic set in. I’m such an idiot! I was trapped and it was my own fault. I was that stupid, gullible girl from Maine, wandering through Central Park. A big, shiny target for any lowlife. My eyes darted about, frantically searching for an escape route. There wasn’t one. Either by flying bullet or flying mutt, I’d be stopped.

I swallowed. “I have money. Lots of money. Here, you can have it all,” I quavered, thrusting my purse forward.

No one made any move toward it.

“Evangeline, correct?” the man with the dog asked.