Page 11 of The Devil You Know
Seth slid his tongue across Evan’s lips. “Love you too. More than anything.” He rolled them over and slipped out.
“Be right back,” Seth murmured, brushing his lips against Evan’s. He padded to the bathroom and returned a few moments later with a warm, wet cloth, then tenderly wiped Evan clean. Seth tossed the cloth toward the bathroom, and then they slid beneath the covers.
“I’m yours, forever. You know that, right?” Seth carded his fingers through Evan’s hair and pressed a kiss to his temple.
“Uh-huh,” Evan replied, blissed out and rushing toward sleep. “Same here. Yours—always.”
3
SETH
“Pretty impressive, just sayin’,”Seth said as they wandered into the Cleveland Public Library’s main branch. The original 1920s-era building had a white marble facade with pillars, and the recently remodeled interior had restored the ornate ceilings and other architectural features.
“It’s a temple to knowledge.” Evan’s hushed voice sounded equally awed.
Seth unfolded a map of the building he had grabbed on their way in. “So there’s the original building and then the new wing. This place takes up a whole city block. Unfortunately, the things we came to look at aren’t close to each other.”
Evan shrugged. “How do you want to do this? Stay together or split up and cover the territory faster?”
Seth hated to let Evan out of his sight. But it felt like the clock was ticking, narrowing their window to get to Osborn. “Let’s split up. We can text each other every half hour. And we’ve got salt and hex bags in our pockets, plus it’s a pretty public place for Osborn to come after us.”
“Are you sure?” Evan looked worried.
“It’s only for a couple of hours,” Seth replied. “The sooner we can finish here, the faster we can get back to taking care of business.”
“Be careful,” Evan warned.
Seth glanced around, then he pulled Evan into an empty row between shelves and kissed him slow and deep. “Love you,” he murmured.
“Love you too,” Evan answered. “See you back here soon.”
* * *
Seth headedto the map room while Evan went in search of old photographs and public records. The huge building was maze-like despite the map and plenty of directional signage. The main section of the library was busy for a weekday morning, bustling with retirees, young mothers with children, and job seekers.
Once Seth crossed into the more specialized collections, the library seemed deserted except for the reference expert behind the information desk, a woman who reminded Seth of his mother. Her name tag saidJanet.
He stopped to explain what he was looking for and opened his messenger bag for examination. The hex bags were in the pockets of his jacket, and his obsidian knife—good for getting past metal detectors—was in a hidden compartment of his bag.
“Please use the cotton gloves to handle the maps,” Janet warned as she gave him a quick tour of how and where the maps were stored and then led him over to the big oak study table.
“Pencil only—no pens allowed on the table. I recommend taking pictures if you find something relevant—but no flash photography. Just ask if you need any help—I step away occasionally, but never for long. And I love solving puzzles, so if you aren’t finding what you need, just holler—quietly,” she added with a smile.
Seth assured her he would and then pulled out his notebook with the list of locations he had identified from his online sleuthing. He and Teag had already identified property owned by Osborn in all his reinvented identities.
Seth wanted to find out how the sites and their surroundings had changed over the past century. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for, but he knew he’d recognize it when he saw it. Seth had learned that sometimes serendipity revealed what was needed if he trusted his instincts.
Two places in particular caught his eye; a defunct rehabilitation hospital and the Detroit-Superior underground trolly station built and then abandoned as time and traffic changed.
As he worked his way down the list of locations, Seth took photos and texted tidbits to Evan, saving his work to the cloud. They’d broken enough phones while battling the bad guys that Seth no longer trusted keeping anything valuable on his device.
Evan shared photos and comments of his own, keeping up a running text conversation. The small, glass-enclosed map room seemed warm, and Seth shrugged out of his coat, keeping it behind him on the chair.
He ferried maps back and forth between the table and the big wooden flat storage drawers. The deeper he dug, the more engrossed in his research he became.
“That’s convenient,” Seth muttered as he cross-checked an address for the old rehab hospital owned by the shell corporation that concealed Osborn’s many identities.
It’s right next to the Detroit-Superior station. Desolate tunnels that tourists are only allowed to visit once a year. I can’t imagine a more perfect place to carry out his rituals without being disturbed.
