Lair of Dreams (The Diviners #2) Read Online Free PDF
Author: Libba Bray
leaped from the bald head of a very surprised man and onto a drapery panel, where it now clung, screeching. A girl wearing a puffy feather boa pleaded with the monkey, but it would not be wooed. The animal held tight, squawking and hissing at the crowd.
“Where’d they come from?” Henry asked.
Evie shot her eyes heavenward, trying to remember. “I think they’re with a circus from Budapest. I met them in Times Square and invited them along. Say, did you hear what Sarah Snow said about Diviners?”
“Who’s Sarah Snow?” Theta said on a stream of cigarette smoke.
“Exactly my point,” Evie said, triumphant. “Well, anyway, she said Diviners were un-American is what.”
“I wouldn’t let it bother you, darlin’,” Henry said. “You’ve got bigger problems.”
“What do you mean?”
Henry jerked his head in the direction of the scowling hotel manager walking briskly toward their table.
Quickly, Evie slipped her flask into her garter. “Oh, applesauce. Here comes Mr. Killjoy.”
“Miss O’Neill! What is going on here?” the hotel manager thundered.
Evie smiled brightly. “Don’t you just adore parties?”
The manager’s lip twitched. “Miss O’Neill, as the manager of the Grant Hotel, what I adore—nay, demand—is an end to this nightly chaos. You have made a mockery of a venerable New York institution, Miss O’Neill. There are reporters camped outside the premises every night just to see what fresh madness will erupt—”
“Isn’t it mahhh-velous?” Evie drew the word out. “Think of how much publicity the hotel’s getting for free!”
“This is not the sort of notoriety the Grant wants, Miss O’Neill. This behavior is intolerable. The party in the Overland Room, as well as the one currently occupying the lobby, is now over. Do I make myself clear?”
Brows knitted together in concern, Evie nodded. “Perfectly.” She positioned two fingers between her teeth and let loose a piercing whistle. “Dolls, the lobby’s become abso-tive-ly murder. We can’t stay here any longer, I’m afraid.”
The hotel manager nodded curtly in appreciation.
“So everybody up to my room!” Evie shouted, and the stampede began. The Hungarian girl in the feather boa handed the monkey’s leash to the hapless hotel manager, who stood paralyzed as the partygoers swarmed the elevators and stairs.
“You looking to get evicted again, Evil?” Theta asked as they dashed up the gleaming wooden staircase. “What is this, hotel number two?”
“Three, but who’s counting? Besides, they won’t evict me. They love me here!”
Theta looked back down at the hotel manager, who was shouting at a bellhop who was trying to distract the screeching beast with a broom while a telephone operator frantically connected cables in search of someone, anyone, who could remove a monkey from the Grant Hotel.
Theta shook her head. “I’ve seen that look before. It ain’t love, kid.”
Evie’s room was so thick with people that they spilled out into the elegant damask-papered hallways of the Grant’s third floor. Evie, Theta, and Henry took refuge in the bathroom’s claw-foot tub, leaning their backs against one side of it and resting their legs across the other. In the room just beyond, the accordionist launched into the same doleful number he’d played twice before.
“Not again!” Evie growled and drank from her flask. “We should get him to play one of your songs, Henry. You should write for the accordion. An entire accordion revue! It’ll be a sensation.”
“Gee, why didn’t I think of that before?
Henry DuBois’s Accordion Follies! The Ins and Outs of Love
…” Henry sighed. “That’s almost bad enough to be a Herbert Allen song.”
“Herbert Allen! I’ve heard his songs on the radio!” Evie said. “I like the one that goes,
‘I love your hair / I love your nose / I love you from your head to toes, My daaaaarling girl!’
Or the one that goes,
‘Daaarling, you’re top banana /
“Where’d they come from?” Henry asked.
Evie shot her eyes heavenward, trying to remember. “I think they’re with a circus from Budapest. I met them in Times Square and invited them along. Say, did you hear what Sarah Snow said about Diviners?”
“Who’s Sarah Snow?” Theta said on a stream of cigarette smoke.
“Exactly my point,” Evie said, triumphant. “Well, anyway, she said Diviners were un-American is what.”
“I wouldn’t let it bother you, darlin’,” Henry said. “You’ve got bigger problems.”
“What do you mean?”
Henry jerked his head in the direction of the scowling hotel manager walking briskly toward their table.
Quickly, Evie slipped her flask into her garter. “Oh, applesauce. Here comes Mr. Killjoy.”
“Miss O’Neill! What is going on here?” the hotel manager thundered.
Evie smiled brightly. “Don’t you just adore parties?”
The manager’s lip twitched. “Miss O’Neill, as the manager of the Grant Hotel, what I adore—nay, demand—is an end to this nightly chaos. You have made a mockery of a venerable New York institution, Miss O’Neill. There are reporters camped outside the premises every night just to see what fresh madness will erupt—”
“Isn’t it mahhh-velous?” Evie drew the word out. “Think of how much publicity the hotel’s getting for free!”
“This is not the sort of notoriety the Grant wants, Miss O’Neill. This behavior is intolerable. The party in the Overland Room, as well as the one currently occupying the lobby, is now over. Do I make myself clear?”
Brows knitted together in concern, Evie nodded. “Perfectly.” She positioned two fingers between her teeth and let loose a piercing whistle. “Dolls, the lobby’s become abso-tive-ly murder. We can’t stay here any longer, I’m afraid.”
The hotel manager nodded curtly in appreciation.
“So everybody up to my room!” Evie shouted, and the stampede began. The Hungarian girl in the feather boa handed the monkey’s leash to the hapless hotel manager, who stood paralyzed as the partygoers swarmed the elevators and stairs.
“You looking to get evicted again, Evil?” Theta asked as they dashed up the gleaming wooden staircase. “What is this, hotel number two?”
“Three, but who’s counting? Besides, they won’t evict me. They love me here!”
Theta looked back down at the hotel manager, who was shouting at a bellhop who was trying to distract the screeching beast with a broom while a telephone operator frantically connected cables in search of someone, anyone, who could remove a monkey from the Grant Hotel.
Theta shook her head. “I’ve seen that look before. It ain’t love, kid.”
Evie’s room was so thick with people that they spilled out into the elegant damask-papered hallways of the Grant’s third floor. Evie, Theta, and Henry took refuge in the bathroom’s claw-foot tub, leaning their backs against one side of it and resting their legs across the other. In the room just beyond, the accordionist launched into the same doleful number he’d played twice before.
“Not again!” Evie growled and drank from her flask. “We should get him to play one of your songs, Henry. You should write for the accordion. An entire accordion revue! It’ll be a sensation.”
“Gee, why didn’t I think of that before?
Henry DuBois’s Accordion Follies! The Ins and Outs of Love
…” Henry sighed. “That’s almost bad enough to be a Herbert Allen song.”
“Herbert Allen! I’ve heard his songs on the radio!” Evie said. “I like the one that goes,
‘I love your hair / I love your nose / I love you from your head to toes, My daaaaarling girl!’
Or the one that goes,
‘Daaarling, you’re top banana /