Page 129 of Rules to Love By

The blinds behind the desk clacked against the glass.

“What?” Marcus pushed the chair aside and knocked on the closed glass.

This time, the blinds undulated from top to bottom and back again, sliding their sharp aluminum edges against his fingertips, slicing through skin.

“Ow!” Marcus jumped back, caught a foot on the leg of the chair and flailed.

For an instant, the chair balanced on two wheels, then went over with a thud that reverberated down through plaster and beams and made the house shake.

Marcus would have followed it over if Eli hadn’t caught first his hand, then his body, with an arm around his waist, and practically lifted him off his feet, only to set him back down again, safely on his other side.

Seconds later, footsteps were pounding up the stairs, and first Ozzy, then the locksmith, appeared in the doorway.

“What happened?” Ozzy asked.

“Nothing.” Marcus blew on his mangled fingertips. “I tripped.”

“Shetripped you,” Tris corrected.

“I suspect the house is trying to protect itself by protecting your aunt’s papers,” Ozzy said.

Marcus grunted as Eli took his hand in his and applied a tissue to the cuts. “If she could do that, why did she let him trash the diner?”

“Maybe,” Tris piped up, “she was keeping him distracted with petty theft in hopes you’d come back and save her. And here you are.” He beamed.

“Then why this?” Marcus jerked his hand free and held it up.

“She has been in fight mode for a while now. And it isn’t like she’s a person who can reason—”

Marcus glanced at the chair, and as if he’d requested it, Ozzy picked it up, one-handed, and set it back on its wheels. Marcus sat, stroked a hand over the surface, and muttered, “Its me, you silly princess. Stop making this harder than it has to be.”

“Let’s see.” Ozzy strode forward and curled his fingers under the carved oak-leaf handle of one of the drawers.

The room plunged into darkness. The blinds plastered themselves against the window frame with a loud clatter, allowing only the barest glimmer of sunlight through a few cracks. Above them, the rafters groaned and cracked, sounding like they were ready to drop the entire upper floor on their heads.

Familiar shuffling footsteps sounded out in the hallway, moving from the front of the building to the back towards the stairs rising up to the apartment.

A chill wound down Marcus’s spine.

Tris’s voice floated out of the dark. “Your building is seriously freaky, Marcus.”

The office door slammed shut.

“Jesus fuck!” Marcus shoved away from the desk, almost running Eli over with the wheeled chair.

Eli’s hands clamped onto his shoulders.

“Shit!” Tris squeaked.

“Baby,” Ozzy whispered in the dark, his heavy boots sliding across the floor in the direction Tris’s voice had come from.

“I’m okay,” Tris said, though his voice still came high and tight through the darkness.

“Marcus?” Ozzy’s voice held a note of maybe-not-fine, but he managed to keep it to a quiet rumble. “Maybe you should try to open the desk again?”

Marcus swallowed hard. “You think?”

“I think we have to see if she’ll let you.”

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