Dark Metropolis (12 page)

“I’m looking forward to seeing your father again,” he said.

She took a handkerchief from her purse and dried her eyes.

“It will be all right,” he said. “But I wanted to have a moment alone with you. I never wanted you to be involved in this. It’s too late for that, I see. You must know, Arabella and I agreed on some things. Most important, that in the end all the people Freddy has revived must die properly. When the time is right, Freddy
must
let them go. You might be the key to it all. That boy…he seems to like you and trust you. You must make him do what needs to be done.”

She swallowed. “I understand,” she said. She didn’t want to lose her father. But if it was the only way…

“But first the people must see, with their own eyes, the ones they loved and thought lost. They must know the extent of it.”

“What is the extent of it?”

“I’m not sure of the numbers, but they must be substantial. The government likely began reviving the dead during the war, picking bodies off the field, and then they passed the Funeral Relief Act.”

The Funeral Relief Act, Thea knew, meant that if a person of low income died, the family could opt for a cremation fully paid for by the government. “They use it to collect bodies?” Her voice matched Father Gruneman’s hush.

“Yes, and recently people have started disappearing. They have targets, I think. Even some of the people from our group who went to search the underground never returned.”

He suddenly moved to the desk and took a gun out of the drawer. Her eyes widened. She certainly had not expected him to have such a thing.

“You should take this,” he said. “In case you have any trouble. I bought it in the event I needed, shall we say, a negotiation tool. But that didn’t work out very well.”

“I don’t know how to use it.”

“Hopefully, you won’t have to. But I want to leave you prepared, as much as I can. It’s loaded. Be careful with it.”

“I certainly will,” Thea said, putting it in her purse gingerly, as though it were a grenade.

She followed him out of the office, her movements automatic, her face feeling like a plaster mask. Freddy waited in the hallway, approaching her when they emerged.

“I’m ready,” Father Gruneman said.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Freddy said.

“Of course you can,” Father Gruneman said. “In fact, you’re the only one who can do this. But…let’s go to the parlor. I’d rather have my favorite chair.”

They went to the parlor. Thea barely realized she had gone down the stairs. Her heart thumped, strong and scared, in her chest. She wasn’t sure she could bear to watch Father Gruneman die again, but Freddy would need her support. He thought himself a giver of life, and she couldn’t imagine how awful it would be to bear the burden of knowing he had to do the opposite.

Father Gruneman reached for Freddy’s hand. “Don’t be afraid.”

Freddy’s eyes remained open, but they seemed to look inward. His shoulders hunched slightly. She could see him searching for that thing—that thread of magic—that connected him with Father Gruneman. Thea’s hands trembled, and she put them in her pockets.

Father Gruneman looked at the ceiling, and the life seemed to flow out of him, softly and gently. He closed his eyes just before it was over, and he was left with an expression that was not quite a smile but a look of deep peace.

But still she cried, choked and angry tears that threatened to break out of control. She forced them back, because of Freddy. Another person gone from her life. Nan and her father still to come. The world going all to hell, and she didn’t know if she even really believed in heaven. She went to church every week because of Mother and because she wanted something more meaningful than work, but some days the world seemed too unfair, too random, and too ugly for faith of any kind. Other days it was too beautiful not to believe in something. And in a moment like this, she wasn’t sure which it was.

Freddy’s arms suddenly went around her, and she leaned into his warm, tall embrace. His clothes smelled of somewhere rich. She managed to pull herself together, looking up into his pale face.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m—I’ll manage. I’ll have to. But what about you?”

“I—” He lowered his gaze. “I can’t do this. Letting all those people die. There must be a better way.”

She drew back. Father Gruneman had told her she had to persuade Freddy to let them go. But what if there
was
a better way? “I don’t know if there is.”

“So you expect me to just let your father and Nan die? I’ve already unwittingly hurt so many people, and this is such a huge decision. I have to find out more about the serum. Maybe there’s a way to save them.”

N
an’s days had become almost like the levers. One day. Two. Three. How long had she been here now? Two weeks?

But it couldn’t go on forever.
I have to try to escape again, and I can’t take Sigi.

If everyone underground was dead except for her…then to leave here was to return to the land of the living. To leave Sigi in a sunless tomb. Nan might never see her again. And she still had the feeling that she had been meant to do something here. In another day or two, she might remember it.

That night, in the space between consciousness and dreams, Sigi appeared in her memories.

Arabella’s home was the most lavish place Nan had ever seen.
The Telephone Club may have glittered, but under that glitter was the smudge of desperation.
These rooms were open, full of sun and sculpture. From the art on the walls to the carvings on the staircase, the colors were warm and bright, the lines soft. Elephant tusks hung over the fireplace; a window of stained-glass trees framed the real garden plot behind the house.

“Have a seat.” Arabella gestured to the sofa. “Let me start by telling you something about magic. If you see enough of it, you will begin to recognize it, even when it’s hidden. I see it in you, my dear.”

“But I’ve never—”

Arabella held up a hand. “Before you say anything else, listen. Some of our members are descended from witches of the court.
They have saved thousands of books and documents from destruction by the new regime. I asked a colleague if he knew anything about people who could not see colors or hear music. We spent a day poring over his library, and we found an account from the court of Queen Sofie.”

Nan vaguely remembered the name from her school days, but as nothing more than a parade of royal names in history class.

Arabella continued.
“Queen Sofie kept witches locked in her castle and forced them to use their magic for her own aims. A lot of what she dabbled in was quite dark—curses and death. She had many enemies.
There are accounts of a charming young woman who came to the court claiming to be from a faraway land. Queen Sofie seemed intrigued by her and allowed her to stay the summer. According to the other ladies of the court, she asked for help selecting clothes, as she could not see colors. She also would not dance and was curiously uninterested in the men of the court.”

“
That sounds like me,” Nan murmured.

“Additionally, Queen Sofie’s guard caught the woman sneaking into the private chambers where she kept her witches.
The woman said she was a guardian of fate, half-human and half-spirit, and she had come to stop Queen Sofie from abusing the gifts of the spirit world—magic. It sounds like she could be an ancestor of yours, doesn’t it?”

“But how would she know she was a guardian of fate?”

“Of that I’m not sure,” Arabella said. “But many types of magic mature only in adulthood. I think it’s worthy of further investigation.”

“I do…get these feelings,” Nan said. “I can’t explain them to anyone. Just an intuition that something is wrong in the world and I’m supposed to do something, only I don’t understand what to do.”

“Perhaps you do have a calling,” Arabella said. “If you are a guardian of fate.”

Nan wanted to believe in an answer. “But how could I be sure? Is that all you found? Just a few old stories from hundreds of years ago?”

Arabella smiled faintly.
“It was only one hundred and thirty-five, to be precise. Look, my dear girl, it’s only a beginning. I will try to find more answers for you.”

“What can I do now? You said you’d tell me what we’re fighting.”

“You can come to one of our meetings. We know quite a bit about what’s going on, and we can certainly find you a task while we look for more information for you.”

Elsewhere in the house, a door swung open and footsteps thumped down stairs. Arabella twisted around and called, “Sigi?”

“Yes?” A girl appeared on the landing.

“What are you doing?”

“Going somewhere.”

Arabella sniffed. “Yes, but where? Just come down so we aren’t shouting.” She smiled apologetically at Nan.

The girl’s gray suit was slightly rumpled, her hat floppy and unfashionable, with untamed dark curls beneath. She was thickset and a little tanned, but not in an on-purpose, seaside vacation way.
The Telephone Club would never hire her. But Nan preferred girls who weren’t polished beauty queens. “I’m just going for a walk,” Sigi said. “Do I need to sign a log now?” She looked startled when she noticed Nan. “Sorry—I didn’t know you had, um, a visitor.”

“Not at all. Nan, this is my daughter, Sigismunda. Sigi, this is Nan.”

“Yes, call me Sigi, please. Sigismunda? Really now.” She hesitated. “So what brings you here?”

“Nan is curious about our group,” Arabella said. “I told her she could come over and I’d answer some questions. I see you have your camera.”

Sigi put her hand on the boxy leather bag slung over her shoulder. “I always have my camera.”

“Well, just be careful,” Arabella said, but her attention had already absented itself from Sigi and she was looking at Nan again.

“Yes,” she said. “You were worried about your friend’s mother. You’re just the sort of girl the revolution needs. You have your eyes open to the city’s dark secrets, even if you haven’t been able to puzzle them out alone. Can I trust you not to speak of these secrets?”

“Of course,” Nan said. “I swear it. I just want to do something.”

“Sigi.” Nan spoke into the darkness.

“Wha—?” Sigi replied sleepily.

“I just remembered where I know you from. I knew your mother. I knew you.”

“My mother…” Sigi sounded distressed.

“Do you remember your mother?”

“No, but as soon as you said you knew her, I had an unpleasant feeling. I don’t think we got along.” The bed creaked as Sigi sat up. Nan came down from the top bunk and climbed onto the edge of her mattress.

“I think you’re right,” Nan said.

“What else do you remember about me?” Sigi asked. “Maybe I’ll remember, too.”

“You had a camera.”

Sigi sucked in a breath. “Oh—my camera,” she said. “Yes. Now that you say that—I can’t believe I don’t have it. I’ll never use it again. They don’t give us anything down here. No art. No art at all.”

Sigi reached for Nan’s hand.

“My camera,” she repeated, and she sounded heartbroken. “But I can’t remember my pictures. I can’t remember them.”

Then she didn’t talk anymore, and Nan didn’t try to make her. Although Nan usually didn’t like being touched, she didn’t really mind when it was Sigi.

It was too dim to see much of Sigi’s expression. Finally, she heard her sniff. But when Sigi spoke, her voice was level. “Maybe it’s better if I don’t try to remember. I should get back to sleep.”

Nan felt a pang that she couldn’t do more for her. She drew her hand back and stepped onto the ladder to her bunk. “Remember, I promised you that you won’t die down here. I meant it. It’ll be all right.”

T
he next day, Nan had breakfast with Sigi and worked as usual. But when she went to dinner that evening, a frenzied murmur passed among the workers in line, and she knew someone must be in the cage.

Sigi.

When she saw Sigi in the cage, she felt as if she’d run headfirst into a wall. She took a step back.
No…

Sigi caught her eyes and shook her head quickly.
Don’t worry about me,
she mouthed.

Nan looked at the guard. “Why is she here?”

He regarded her silently, eyes cold.

“Just go eat your dinner,” Sigi said. She was standing straight, arms crossed, trying to look brave, but she couldn’t entirely hide the fear in her voice.

“She hasn’t done anything wrong,” Nan told the guard. “She’s my roommate! I’d know.”

The guard’s eyes lifted to some point beyond Nan’s head. She turned and saw Valkenrath crossing the room toward them. People scurried off when he passed them, but Nan held her ground.

“Is there a problem here?” He seemed to be asking the guard, but his eyes moved to Nan as he spoke. “This is your roommate.”

“Yes,” Nan said. “And I’m a light sleeper. I would have noticed if she ever left her room.”

“What makes you think we’re accusing her of leaving her room?”

“Well—what else could it be?”

“Maybe she was defiant on the job. Maybe she fell asleep. Maybe she was caught having a rendezvous.”

“Nan, just don’t worry about it!” Sigi snapped.

“Or maybe we found her carrying a flashlight,” Valkenrath
continued. “I wonder if you have any surprises in your pockets.
Come with me.” He started walking with the apparent assumption she would follow. He slipped out a side door into a hall that was much quieter than the cafeteria.

She had the pocketknife tucked in her boot. Sometimes their rooms were searched while they worked. But it was reckless for Sigi to carry the flashlight around. Nan should have kept it. She felt like the reckless one for ever letting Sigi follow her to the tunnels.

“Turn out your pockets,” Valkenrath said, almost like a teacher scolding a naughty child.

Nan did. He grabbed the crumpled bits of fabric jutting from her hips and gave them each a quick shake to see if anything was hidden in the folds. Then he nodded curtly. “Please tell me what you know about your friend. Where did she find a flashlight?”

“I don’t know.”

“If she tries to escape, she won’t have serum, and I’m sure you understand the consequences of that.”

As he spoke, Nan could imagine him rotting and dying like the man in the tunnels. He thought he was above her. He thought he was safe from such fates. Maybe he was for now, but death would get him, too, in the end.

“Are you going to say anything?” he asked.

“You’ve made up your mind that Sigi did something wrong,” she said. “I don’t think there is much I can say to change that.”

“I might be persuaded to help your friend if you’re honest with me.”

“What makes you think I’m being dishonest?”

“I am very, very good at sniffing out lies, Miss Davies.”

She could feel her aggression, simmering deep down, but she kept it back. For a moment he didn’t say anything, either. Her face remained placid. A twitch of anger played across his features, but when it passed, curiosity was left behind.

“Are you not afraid?” he asked.

“No.”
She hurled the word at him. What did it matter anymore?

“Why not?”

“You’re just a mortal man. One day you’ll rot, too.”

His hand flashed out and struck her cheek, so hard that tears of pain welled in her eyes.

“Your honesty could have saved your friend,” he said. “But since you won’t speak, how would you like to suffer with her?”

Nan stared at him as if she could will him to leave her alone.

“Come with me.” He grabbed her arm. She twisted, but she couldn’t get away. She kicked him, catching him in the kneecap, but that was all she managed before a pair of guards appeared behind her. They dragged her back into the cafeteria. Her fellow workers gaped at her a moment, then turned away. The door to Sigi’s cage rattled open, and they tossed Nan in.