Free Winter (The Manhattan Exiles) by Sarah Remy Page A

wall. The rug on the floor was crooked.
    To Aine’s left a women in a blue uniform shoved parcels into regimented square boxes. She glanced up at Aine, then went back to work.
    “Those are the elevators.” Richard pointed at a pair of seamed metal doors. He made a move as if to take her elbow, and then thought better of it. “They’ll take us to the third floor. Have you ever been inside an elevator? They can be disorienting.”
    “ Nay.” Aine stopped in front of the doors. She could see no obvious way to open them. On a hunch she pressed the small round button inscribed with an arrow pointing up. She felt a surge of elation when the doors slid open.
    “ Have you ever served soup to an angry Queen after she’s just lost a highly contested game of fidchell ?” she challenged.
    “ No. You win points for bravery.” Richard followed her into the compartment. The doors slid shut behind them. He used the tip of his cane to press another glowing button. “Only, I wondered. All the iron in the city . . .”
    “ It makes my bones hurt,” Aine admitted. “But I’m growing used to it.”
    The compartment shook, then rose ponderously upward. Aine forced herself to keep her hands in her pockets instead of grabbing at the wall.
    “Is Winter very embarrassed?”
    “ I imagine he’s over it by now. I’m thinking you saved him a trip to the hospital. Winter hates hospitals.”
    “ I thought he’d follow,” Aine admitted. The swaying of the elevator had squashed some of Aine’s bravery. She was beginning to worry - only a little - about what she might find in Smith’s rooms.
    Richard smiled sympathetically. “They took the fire escape. They’ve probably turned the place over top to bottom by now.”
    The elevator jerked to a stop. The doors parted. Richard swung his cane over one shoulder, and stepped off. Aine followed more cautiously.
    It was only a hallway, brighter than the foyer below, and padded with thick rug.
    “ This way,” Richard said. “Don’t drag your feet now, you’ll never live it down.”
    Aine lengthened her stride to keep up.
    There were more doors up and down the hall, closed and quiet. High on one wall above their heads a tiny glass eye rotated back and forth.
    “ Camera,” said Richard. “A good thing to remember about this city. Nowadays, there are always cameras.”
    The bright eye made Aine shudder. She turned her back to it.
    “3A, 3B, and here we are: 3C.”
    He knocked once, and then stepped behind Aine.
    The door bounced open. Lolo grinned at them.
    “ Come in,” he said. “There’s no one here but us at the moment. Quiet as a kindergarten at midnight.”
     
    At first glance Smith’s rooms were unremarkable.
    “ Suite,” said Lolo. “Pretty basic. Main room with television and kitchenette, good sized bathroom, and three bedrooms off the main. Not too bad, really, for this part of town.”
    “ And extraordinarily neat, the lot of them.” Winter slid from behind yet another door. In his hand he held a small satchel. “I’d say spooky neat, if not for the fact that it’s likely they’re never here to make a mess.”
    “ The interns,” Richard agreed. “But what about Smith?”
    “ See for yourself.” Winter nodded at Richard. “Maybe you’ll catch something I missed.”
    Aine followed Richard into the small bedroom. It was unremarkable, except for the lack of windows and the square bright light in the ceiling. She didn’t know how any person could sleep in such an airless space. Suppressing a shiver, she tucked her hands into her armpits, watching Richard as he wandered the room.
    “Closet’s the size of a coffin,” Winter said over Aine’s shoulder. “Cleaned out, assuming he ever used it.”
    “ Dusty.” Richard poked in the cupboard with his stick. “Or is that - “
    “ Ash,” Winter agreed. “Sage and cedar, and juniper. Someone’s smudged the closet.”
    “ Smudged?” Aine echoed.
    Winter leaned against the wall without speaking. Richard