Page 57 of Inside the Maelstrom: Part One
The food stalls at the end of the market smelled amazing, and we watched as one street vendor cooked dumplings, folding them in front of us before putting in a large steamer. “Oh man, I love dumplings,” Aviva said, her eyes wide with delight.
I held up ten fingers to the vendor and he nodded, fishing out the dumplings and piling them high on a rough foil plate, a little dollop of chutney beside them. “Momos,” he said with a grin, smiling widely and missing more than a few teeth.
Aviva thanked him and took a bite of one of the dumplings. “Holy shit, this is so good. Try some?”
I shook my head. Street food had never been my thing. Hendrick had no qualms whatsoever, plucking two from the plate and eating them in one bite. “They are good,” he said around a mouth full of food. He looked at Otto. “You should try one.”
Otto shook his head. “You’re gross, Drix. I’m good.”
We headed to Penny Lane bookstore, which was a short ride away from the market. Most of the people who worked this market lived here too, in makeshift tarpaulin tents, and they bathed in the Hooghly River. It made me appreciate what I had, even with the risks of being tortured to death for my money. Again.
The bookstore was a weird little hole in the wall, filled to the brim with engineering and science textbooks. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?”
She shrugged. “It's what it said in the book.”
We walked in, and the owner didn’t even look up from his lunch. Okay, that was fine; I didn't want him hovering anyway. Curmudgeonly bookstore owners were a cliché that crossed the cultural divide, apparently.
Books were stacked floor to ceiling, and while they were loosely grouped into subjects, I couldn’t find anywhere with fiction novels. “Find a translator. We’ll start from the back and work our way forward,” I told Evan, and he nodded, stepping back out onto the street.
Aviva reached behind me and squeezed my hand. “Thank you.”
We set to work, and I silently began to curse out this Nemo guy. Fuck, I should just get a private investigator to find the guy, go straight to the source so Aviva could see he was just some self-obsessed asshole like the rest of us, and then we could all move on with our lives.
The other side of my brain knew that if this ended now, she’d go back to school, become beige again. She wouldn’t stay with us. I couldn’t blame her, really.
Three hours later, we were no closer to finding the book, and it was so hot I thought I was going to pass out. Aviva was looking pale and sweating profusely, and I decided that was enough.
“Good Girl, we’ll come back tomorrow. Let's head back to the hotel.”
She shook her head, looking at a stack of books but barely staying upright. “We have to be close.”
Otto stepped toward her, holding her shoulder as she weaved on her feet. “Then we’ll be just as close tomorrow. Come on, you’re looking a little pasty.”
She stood up, and I got a good look at her. She was worse than pasty. She looked gray. “I’m fine,” she argued, which would have been a hell of a lot more convincing if she hadn’t buckled over and puked on my shoes.
Fuck.
“Viva, are you okay?” Otto asked, as the owner of the store finally emerged, yelling angrily.
I spun around to him, pushing my finger in his face. “Fuck off.” I looked past him at the bodyguards. “Get a car, now.”
Aviva was swaying softly, and I scooped her into my arms. “Sam, I don’t feel good.”
“I know, Good Girl. We’ll get it figured out.”
Evan appeared from nowhere, directing us to an idling town car. I climbed in, and Otto and Hendrick climbed in beside me. She was sweating so badly now that she was shaking in my arms.
“Let’s go!” I demanded.
Evan climbed in the front, and slipped the driver a stack of bills to hurry. “I’ll call the hotel, tell them to get a doctor.”
I nodded, but my eyes were back on Aviva. “How are you feeling now?” I asked softly, pushing back the curls that suddenly sat limply around her face.
“Feel like shit,” she said, panting. “Like I’m going to puke, and my stomach, argh…” She moaned, curling into a ball on my lap. I rubbed her back, feeling fucking useless as she groaned. Eventually, her groans turned to sobs. “I’m gonna throw up.” Hedrick yanked off his hat and passed it to her, and she vomited in great heaves.
“No sick in the taxi!” the driver yelled, and Evan growled something in a low voice that I missed, but had the driver weaving in and out of traffic. Hendrick threw his vomit-filled hat out the window before we rolled through the gates of the hotel. Otto hopped out first, and I passed him Viva.
“Get her to our room. I’ll see where the doctor is.” He took off into the hotel, his eyes wild with worry. I strode up to the reception desk. “I need that doctor now.”
