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to the door. “Try. If you insist.”
    Josh rushed forward and tugged on the handle. The door
didn’t open. Fuming, he swung around to face the old man. “It’s fucking locked !”
    “Must you use such tasteless language, Joshua Taylor?”
    I pulled at the door, but of course I did no better than
Josh had.
    “You locked us in our room last night!” accused Josh,
pointing his finger at the old man. “Admit it! That door was not stuck . And now you’ve locked us in the building. I will not be locked in. Let us go. Unlock
the door .”
    The old man didn’t unlock the door. Instead, he reached out
and laid a cold hand on my arm, and on Josh’s. We flinched, cried out,
shuddered, but we just stood there, frozen, and let him trail his long fingers
softly up and down our arms, patting, caressing, soothing. He touched us both,
but it was me he stared at. It was me his eyes roamed over. Me he licked his
lips for. Me who received the extra attention. Me.
    “Better?” the old man asked, leaning close, so close that
his robe brushed my leg, so close that I smelled his peculiar cinnamon scent
again.
    I blinked.
    I was better. He was right.
    Then I frowned, confused. Why had I been trying so hard to
escape? Really, there was no need. It was quite nice here. I loved our room in
the North Tower. I’d adored the sex game, was hoping there would be more. So
what was the problem? A locked door or two wasn’t anything to worry about. “I’m
fine,” I mumbled.
    “Joshua?” asked the old man, taking his eyes from me.
    Josh shifted his weight to the other foot. Cleared his
throat. Looked at me, his brows knitted. “Umm. We’d still like to go, if you
don’t mind.” He glanced sideways at the old man, a quiver in his voice. “Open
the door for us? Please?”
    “You still wish to leave?” said the old man. His hands
dropped from our arms. “I am heartbroken to hear it.”
    We nodded. Or at least Josh nodded.
    The old man’s face fell. “Do you not like it here, Joshua?
Did you not enjoy my North Tower, Angela? Or my games of welcome? Did you not
play them? I conceived those amusements especially for you, my dears.” He
sighed, and it was a heavy, hopeless thing. “Oh my. And I tried so hard to make
your stay a memorable one.”
    His eyes—so sad! So painfully, wretchedly disappointed.
    It made me sad, just to see them.
    “Surely you will want to stay long enough for breakfast? My
breakfasts are truly spectacular! What a shame not to partake.”
    Josh shrugged. He eyed the door.
    “Are you not hungry?”
    I smelled the coffee again. My stomach rumbled. “ I am.
I’m hungry.”
    “Good girl! Then you shall eat.”
    But Josh was still looking at the door.
    “Come now, young man! Why such a hurry to leave? People
these days rush about like so many worker bees.” The old man smiled tenderly at
Josh, then took his hand. And Josh let him.
    I peered at the old man, confused…did he look different this
morning? Did he seem less ancient than he had last night? A bit less hunched
over, perhaps? Was it possible? I narrowed my eyes. Did his skin show fewer
ravages of old age? Did he seem more agile? Not to mention his mad dash to the
door a moment ago.
    What on Earth?
    I was giving myself a headache. Best not to worry over such
things.
    The old man spoke again, still holding tight to Josh’s hand.
“Won’t you please stay?”
    Josh took a ragged breath. Nodded in a vague sort of way.
“Yes…Angie and I have to…go to breakfast. I think that’s a grand idea.
Spectacular.”
    Now Josh was parroting the old man’s language.
    Wonderful.
    The old man took my hand too. Striding between Josh and me,
like a stern but doting parent, the old man walked us back through the lobby,
back through that elegant parlor, to the dining room.
    He didn’t say another word. He didn’t have to.

Chapter Seven
     
    We hesitated at the dining room entrance.
    I pulled my hand away from the old man’s and wiped my palm
on my pants,