From there, they headed farther south to downtown, painstakingly weaving their way through the crowd.
It was nearing eleven o’clock—only one hour until impact—by the time the museum came into view.
To Iris’s shock, there was a crowd at the doors, as if every nook and cranny within were already taken by people who had read the Gazette, desperate to find safety. There was no chance of the Attwoods finding room, and Iris began to feel panic tingling at her fingertips.
“Mum, where are we going?” Ainsley asked, exhausted from the walk. “I’m thirsty.”
Mrs. Attwood didn’t reply, her eyes scanning the impossibility before them.
“What other enchanted buildings are close?” Attie whispered to Iris. “I’m trying to think but my mind feels scrambled…”
Iris stood up on her toes to study the tall structures around them. The sheathed sword was heavy, and she rolled her aching shoulders. She thought of the list she and Tobias had made, and the one place they had forgotten about.
“What about Gould’s?”
“The café?” Mr. Attwood said, overhearing.
“Where the tea never grows cold, and the scones are always warm. It’s not far from here.” Attie shifted her brother on her back. “I think we should at least walk by and see if it’s full.”
They pressed on through the crowd. Iris felt the tension dissolve from her bones when she saw there was plenty of space inside the café. A few waiters were even serving tea and cake to customers, as if the bombs weren’t coming.
“Here, my loves. Let’s sit in that booth on the far wall,” said Mrs. Attwood, her relief nearly tangible.
The siblings slipped into the big booth, as far away from the windows as possible, with Lilac in tow, and while Mr. Attwood went to the counter for a pitcher of lemonade and some sandwiches, Attie pulled Iris to the side.
“I’m going to go back to the museum,” she said. “To tell Tobias and Forest where we are when they arrive.”
Iris licked her chapped lips, tasting salt from her sweat. She couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in her heart, like her chest had caved in. It had taken them so long to get from one point to the other, she didn’t know if Tobias and Forest would be able to catch up to them.
“Okay,” she said, ignoring that twinge of dread. “I’ll figure out if there’s a door here we can use.”
Attie nodded. “Good. I’ll be back at ten till.”
“Be safe,” Iris said.
She watched as Attie slipped back into the street, where the crowd was thinning as noon approached. Uneasy, Iris walked around the café, her eyes searching for a door that might shift its threshold. She passed by the table where she had once met Sarah on a rainy morning, then the table she had sat at with Roman, sharing tea and sandwiches, not so long ago. She traced the back of the chair as she passed, tears in her eyes.
Stay sharp, stay strong, she told herself. Focus for just a little while longer. This will be over soon.
Roman had mentioned that Dacre’s doors preferred to be close to hearths. But there was no fireplace in the café, and Iris was beginning to think she would need to scout for another door in a different building when a waiter approached her.
“Lovely sword you have there. Would you like a cup of tea?” he asked, extending a dainty cup set in a saucer. “Compliments of the goddess.”
Iris startled. “Enva was here?”
“No,” he said with a smile. “This is simply our way of saying Dacre can return to the hell he came from.”
“Oh.” Iris gave a shaky laugh. “I’ll drink to that. Thank you.”
She sipped the tea, surprised by how it settled her stomach, and continued to walk around the café. Or perhaps it wasn’t the tea but the bravery, the unexpected comradery. She looked at the people who had gathered, some of them with their valises and bags brimming with valuables, others with nothing but the complimentary tea and cake the café was doling out. There were people in their older years, others who looked quite young. Some were dressed in suits and heels, others in uniforms or grease-stained jumpsuits. One woman sat with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, a poetry book cradled in her slender hands.
And yet they were all connected by their decision to stay.
Iris watched as the café owner and some of the waitstaff began to carry out large panels of wood, to nail over the windows outside. Mr. Attwood and Attie’s brothers rushed to help, and the light inside gradually waned as the sunshine was blocked out.