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I huffed in annoyance and pushed my plate away, refusing to eat the rest of the scone and the brownie. “I make better desserts than this at the Pork Pit.”
Gwen laughed. “Now you sound like Grandma Frost. She loves to bake, and she’s always complaining if we get dessert at a restaurant and it’s not as good as what she makes at home.”
“Your grandma sounds like a nice lady.”
A bright light filled Gwen’s eyes. “She’s the best.”
She seemed genuinely happy when talking about her grandma, and I was glad she had at least had one parental figure in her life. After my mother and sister were killed, I’d spent some time living on the streets, so I knew how hard it was to think that you were alone and that no one would ever help you or watch out for you. I didn’t know what would have happened to me if Fletcher Lane, Finn’s dad, hadn’t taken me in and trained me to be an assassin.
We got second helpings of everything except the desserts. Gwen told me a little more about her grandmother, while I talked about Bria, Finn, and Owen and all the fun things we’d done while on vacation.
Eventually, the luncheon started winding down, and Winifred, the conductor, wandered over to our table. “How was the food?”
“It was great,” Gwen replied. “Will we be leaving soon?”
“Yep,” Winifred replied. “In about thirty more minutes.”
Gwen nodded, pushed back from the table, and stood up. “Great. I’m going to look around before we leave.”
She smiled at me, grabbed her messenger bag, and headed toward the electric-train diorama in the front of the lobby. I stayed at the table and sipped the last of my lemonade, content to people-watch. Everyone was talking, laughing, eating, and admiring the photographs and displays, and no one was doing anything suspicious.
So why were the brick walls muttering?
The low, sinister notes washed over me like a tide slowly rising along a sandy shoreline and threatening to drown anyone who didn’t get out of the way. According to what Finn had said, the old historic depot was only used for special events, so it sat empty most of the time. Yet the stones were teeming with emotional vibrations.
Something was wrong.
I scanned the crowd again, but everything was the same as before. Passengers talking, laughing, eating, and ambling around the exhibits, waiters refilling drink glasses and offering coffee to those who wanted it, a few other workers putting out a final round of food. I reached out with my Stone magic, wondering if I was mistaken, but the bricks kept right on muttering, the dark whine an annoying hum that reverberated through my head loudly enough to make my teeth ache.
Then I realized what else was wrong. Gwen wasn’t in the main lobby anymore.
I stood up, getting a better view, but she had vanished. I didn’t know for certain that the muttering walls had anything to do with her, but I hadn’t stayed alive this long by ignoring my instincts. So I set down my lemonade and circled around the lobby, as though I was admiring the historic photos and displays along with everyone else.
I still didn’t spot Gwen, but I did come across two corridors that led away from the main lobby. One went left, and the other went right. I went down the right one and came across a couple of bathrooms, but they were all empty, so I kept going and eventually wound up in a kitchen.
A few workers gave me curious looks, but I smiled and nodded at them all, moved through the kitchen, yanked open a wooden door, and stepped through it.
I found myself at the front of the station, which featured another wide wooden platform with several sets of steps that led down to the ground. A gravel parking lot stretched out for about a hundred feet before giving way to a two-lane road in the distance. Gwen wasn’t out here, although a black SUV was haphazardly parked nearby, more in the snow-crusted grass than on the bare gravel, as though someone had been in such a rush to reach the depot that they didn’t care how dirty their tires got.
Even outside, I could still hear the mutters of the brick walls, and the sounds were growing increasingly loud and violent. Someone around here was definitely up to no good, and I would bet every dollar in the Pork Pit cash register that Gwen Frost was somehow involved.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted Bria. Train stopped for lunch. Might be some trouble with the ride. Find me as soon as you can.
Bria texted me back almost immediately. What?!?! We’re on our way!
I sent her a thumbs-up emoji, then set my phone on silent and slid it back into my pocket. Bria, Finn, and Owen wouldn’t get here in time to stop whatever bad thing was brewing, so I was on my own yet again.
I was okay with that.
Instead of wasting time backtracking through the kitchen, I stalked along the wooden platform, peering through the windows that fronted the station. I spotted another, smaller kitchen, along with some more display rooms and one area with an enormous video screen and several benches. A few folks were sitting on benches, watching a documentary about the historic depot. Even through the window, I could hear the narrator’s booming, solemn tone, along with the sharp shriek of a train whistle and the loud, continued chug-chug-chug of the engine on the screen.
I moved on. Finally, at the far end of the platform, I looked through a window into a storage area. Chairs were stacked along the walls, with several large cardboard boxes and other odds and ends haphazardly strewn about. No framed photographs or video screens adorned the walls, and only a couple of bare bulbs dangled from the ceiling, casting out far more sinister shadows than the few they banished.
Gwen was standing in the middle of the storage area, texting on her phone. She was so focused on her device that she didn’t notice the guy tiptoeing through the brick archway behind her. The guy was young, eighteen or so, like Gwen, with blond hair and dark eyes. He was wearing a long black coat over dark clothes, but the sword belted to his waist glinted a bright silver.
In my experience, people didn’t carry weapons unless they were planning on using them.
I glanced back over my shoulder, but no one was creeping up behind me on the platform, and no other vehicles had entered the parking lot. Had the guy with the sword come here alone? If so, it was going to be the last mistake he ever made. I didn’t know what sort of trouble Gwen Frost was in, but I was going to help her get out of it.
