Nine Lives Last Forever by Rebecca M. Hale Read Free Book Online

serpentine of modern security equipment greeted me inside. The assembly of square metal boxes, scanners, and bulky computers looked decidedly out of place in the lobby’s polished marble surroundings.
    I surrendered my shoulder bag to a pair of security guards who absentmindedly poked inside it before waving me into the open doorframe of a walk-through scanner. As I retrieved my bag on the opposite side, I tried to catch the attention of the nearest guard, who seemed far more interested in the sandwich he had just picked up from behind the scanner’s counter. Floppy blond hair dusted down over his eyes as he stretched his mouth around a large corner of the bread and chomped down on it.
    “I’m looking for Montgomery Carmichael,” I said hopefully. “Can you point me toward his office?”
    The guard squinted a left eye at the ceiling and pumped his jaw up and down as he chewed on the massive hunk of sandwich.
    “Don’t think I’ve heard of that one before,” he replied after a long moment of masticular consideration.
    The guard looked as if he might still be considering my request, but I decided not to wait through the duration of his next bite. “I’m sure I’ll be able to find him,” I replied and proceeded through the lobby to the rotunda.
    I’d driven past City Hall’s mammoth block-long building several times, but this was my first actual experience inside. I’d heard people gush about the famous structure, but I was unprepared for its breathtaking panorama. Despite all of its gleaming gold grandeur, the outer shell of the building couldn’t match the magnificent beauty of the cathedral-like interior.
    My height seemed to shrink as I stood beneath the soaring dome. Enormous arches ringed the rotunda’s upper walls, letting in such a flood of light that it was as if a part of the sky had been captured within. At its apex, the crown of the dome glowed a bubbling shade of pink, hovering over the rotunda like the underside of a gigantic jellyfish.
    I tilted my neck upward, marveling at the myriad of carvings worked into every inch of ceramic, stone, and plaster. The skyward slant, however, quickly diminished my balance, and I almost lost my footing on the slick pink marble that decorated the floor directly beneath the dome.
    As I was struggling to regain my balance, a pair of dark-suited men brushed past me. They crossed the floor of the rotunda with their heads bent close together in conversation; then they began to climb a sweeping marble staircase on the opposite side.
    One of the men looked vaguely familiar to me. He had a smooth, fleshy, childlike face that was framed by limp mousy brown hair. A member of the city’s Board of Supervisors, I thought as I squinted at his profile.
    I followed the two men up the stairs, my own ascension much slower. I had to stop every couple of steps to let my eyes swallow another gulp of the elaborately decorated rotunda. Each step in elevation revealed more details of the figures carved into the surrounding walls.
    A countless number of mythic deities howled into the chamber with spouting, circular-shaped mouths. Creamy stone lions with flowing manes and sharp, narrow eyes keenly assessed each passerby. Thick, curling ribbons of plaster fringed richly festooned frescoes mounted onto seemingly every surface.
    Above it all, a flood of light flowed in through the stained glass windows that framed the arches of the rotunda’s upper walls. Each wall of windows depicted the outlines of a ship, its sails rippling in the wind as it headed through the mouth of the Golden Gate and into San Francisco’s treacherous bay.
    Ten minutes later, I finally made it to the top of the stairs. I began wandering down the second floor hallway, which carved a circular path around the periphery of the rotunda. The search for Monty’s office, I decided, could wait until I’d done a little sightseeing.
     
     
    DILLA’S NEON GREEN go-go boots crept across the granite on the darkened corners