A Time of Shadows (Out of Time #8) by Monique Martin

Council knows, too. Whether we were followed or our tail was waiting for us in the lobby, either way I’d rather not lead them right to Skavo if I can help it. It might only buy us a few days, but the longer we can stay one step ahead, the better.”
    Tess took that in and then nodded thoughtfully. “Smart.”
    “I have my moments.”
    Tess smiled and leaned back in her seat. “It’s a labor, by the way.”
    “What is?”
    “A group of moles.”
    “Smart,” he said.
    “I have my moments.”
    The cab dropped them off at another hotel, the Adamar, not too far away. Like the Saba, it was well-situated in the heart of Sultanahmet in the Old City. He’d also made reservations for them at the Para Palace near Taksim Square if things went pear shaped here. Having a backup for your backup came in handy more often than he cared to remember. Para was familiar; he’d stayed there the last time he was in Istanbul and if push came to shove it would be nice to be on familiar ground. But it was across the bridge and, for now, being closer to the things in the Old City was more important.
    There had been no adjoining rooms available, and they settled for two on the same floor. It was just as well, Jack thought, as he put his bag in the corner of his room. He’d promised Travers he’d work with Tess, but that didn’t mean they had to be joined at the hip. Although she did have lovely hips.
    His room was simple and dark. He pulled back the heavy curtains and the bright sunlight streamed in. It hit the far wall, which had been painted a distinctly Mediterranean shade of orange that burst instantly to life in the sun. Jack stifled a yawn. If only the sunlight worked on him as well.
    The midday call to prayer drifted over the city. Jack opened the windows and looked out. The rooftops were the perfect mix of old and new, Byzantine domes and satellite dishes. The streets were a confusing warren of mosques and McDonalds’. And somewhere in the middle of it all was Drasko Skavo, a man with the world’s fate resting in the palm of his hand.

Chapter Nine

    E LIZABETH COULDN ’ T BE SURE , but she was fairly certain Wonder Woman had a five o’clock shadow. And Batman definitely smelled like Ripple. In front of them a man in a pink spandex body suit and matching tutu spun around on old-fashioned roller skates. Next to Elizabeth, Simon gripped Charlotte’s hand a little more tightly.
    “Good lord,” Simon said. “It’s like every asylum in the city handed out day passes at the same time.”
    Elizabeth laughed. It was crazy, but she kind of liked it. She didn’t need to glance at Simon to know she was alone in that. He wasn’t one for crowds and crowds like this were his worst nightmare.
    “Don’t touch anything,” he said to Charlotte, and added as a Freddy Krueger walked by, “or anyone.”
    The traffic along Hollywood Boulevard was brutal. It was Saturday in Hollywood, and seemingly every tourist in LA was congregating at the Chinese Theatre.  
    Celebrity impersonators, some good and some tragic, posed for photos for a price, and tourists from all over the world compared their foot and handprints to celebrities’ preserved in concrete in the theater’s forecourt.
    “This way, I think,” Simon said as he began to shoulder his way through the crowd.
    The façade of the theater hadn’t changed much in the last eighty years. It was still as fun and as kitschy as ever. Two giant Foo Dogs guarded either side of the entrance as elaborate Chinese dragons were emblazoned above.  
    While the theater hadn’t changed, at least on the outside, the street itself had. It was 1932 the last time they’d visited Hollywood Boulevard, and it had been broad and beautiful then. And classy. Now? Not so much. Gone were the women in print dresses and men in snappy fedoras. In their place were tourists in shorts and black socks. What once felt like a place where magic could happen, now felt a little like the creepy clown at a kid’s party.