May Bird and the Ever After (23 page)

He skimmed across the stones ahead of her, finally floating triumphantly onto the wooden boardwalk that edged the wall of the grotto. May followed, taking Lucius' icy hand as he offered it to help her onto the planks. “That was easy,” May said breathlessly, flushed with pleasure. Lucius beamed.

He let go of her hand and floated ahead along the wall. Meanwhile, May gestured at Pumpkin, who still hovered on the opposite side of the water, shaking his head.

“Pumpkin, really, it's fine.”

Pumpkin darted a look at the water, then one at May. He groaned. And then he began to scurry across.

By the time he floated off the last stone, Lucius had drifted back to them. His big, worried eyes filled May with alarm.

“What's wrong?”

“Come look.”

Pumpkin, May, and Lucius approached the gate. The main walk that ran through the grotto was completely empty. Along each side of it, the square houses that sat one atop the other like layers of cake lay in various stages of disrepair: doors hanging off hinges, windows covered in spider webs, old pieces of furniture lying forlorn and alone on balconies. Overhead, clotheslines holding curious sacks of liquid dangled up and down the walkways, and above their heads, the same sacks hung from the top of the gate. Now that May thought about it, it was strange that it should be standing wide open. And that it had been so easy to get this close.

She took in the scene before her, letting it sink in. There wasn't a soul to be seen anywhere. The town was deserted.

The companions entered the gate cautiously, peering this way and that for any sign of movement. May's feet thudded hollowly along the boardwalk. Through the slats of the walkway she could see the sinister blackness of the seawater, waving back and forth beneath them.

“Ohhh,” Pumpkin groaned, drifting slightly behind the other two and peering this way and that fretfully. He looked like he might turn and head for the hills at any moment. “I think I'll wait outside.”

“It's fine, Pumpkin. Everyone's gone,” Lucius chirped.

But May wasn't so sure that meant everything was fine. “If John the Jibber is gone, we've come a long way for nothing.”

They crisscrossed the grotto three times, weaving up and down different bridges and alleys. Among the houses were several other buildings. May read the signs:
N. K. G. SCHOOL OF THIEVERY AND PICKPOCKETING
with a banner beneath that said
ENROLL NOW FOR SPRING
!;
AL CAPONE
'
S ACADEMY FOR THE MUSICALLY GIFTED
;
HAVE A NICE KNIFE
, which displayed all sorts of old daggers and swords in its window;
THE REPENTANT THIEVES CENTER FOR CHARITY
.

Each time they reached the wall that surrounded the town, they turned and tried a different route. Everywhere the walkway was deserted.

May stood and rested her back against the wall, thinking.

What had happened to all the residents of the grotto? Had they fallen into the water? That wasn't likely. Had something even worse happened? Then May thought about the ghouls back in the Catacombs.

Had something come for the residents of the grotto?

May peered at the space in front of her feet. The walk shook just slightly, as if someone nearby was walking on it.

May looked up. The Repentant Thieves Center for Charity stood just opposite her.

May walked up to the door, a tingle beginning at the base of her neck. She peered at a glowing picture of a beautiful child with huge brown eyes blinking at her. “‘This poor, wretched orphan needs your help,'” she read from the poster. “Oh, I don't know,” she muttered, backing away, ignoring the tingle.

“What's that, May?” Lucius asked earnestly.

“Nothing, I just . . .” May turned back to look at the sign again. “Ghosts can't change . . .,” she muttered to herself. She stepped forward, put her hand on the door handle, and pulled.

Instead of opening onto the inside of a building, the door opened onto another walkway, one that was much cleaner and newer and also filled with little houses. Pumpkin and Lucius had come up behind her, and they all peered in. May led them forward.

“Good job, May,” Lucius said, patting her back. After a few sharp corners, they came to an open space.

Here the boardwalk formed an octagon, dotted in the center by a great fountain. In it was a statue of a man in a green hat, green tunic, and tights.

May smiled. “That's Robin Hood.” On his back he held a quiver of arrows, and out of the tip of each arrow arched a black stream of seawater.

Just beyond the fountain was a large building with a sign dangling crookedly from the sloped roof. In glowing letters it read
HANGMAN'
S NOOSE TOWN HALL
. They stepped in through the doors and were immediately overpowered by a smell that was both stale and sour.

“Ech!” They all put their hands up to their noses at the same moment.

May took in the scene. Big stone rafters crisscrossed the roof, and from them hung more giant sacks of liquid. A bar ran along one side, with hundreds of gleaming silver chalices hanging from tiny looped hooks above it. There must have been at least a hundred tables scattered across the floor in various states of disarray, with chairs sitting straight up, or lying on their sides, or broken and smashed on the floor.

Graffiti had been carved into the walls. May read some of the phrases:

“Always be prepared to lie.”

“Always watch for seawater.”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies at knifepoint.”

Then a fourth one caught May's eye:

“John the Jibber is a fibber.”

May put her finger on the words for the others to look. “At least we know John the Jibber
was
here.”

Below it there was a tiny, jagged carving of a tree, with eyes peering through the leaves. May gasped. Then a movement to her right distracted her.

“Pumpkin, what are you doing?”

Pumpkin held a gleaming silver knife in one hand and was carving something into the wall, biting his lip in concentration.

“Pumpkin!” May reached and took the knife from him. “Where'd you get this?” May looked to see that he had written “Pumpkin was he—”

“It was just lying there on the table. Look how shiny it is.”

May put the knife back down on the table and scowled at him. Apparently he'd decided the grotto was safe, because he merely grinned back at her, holding his nose. But May had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Lucius was peering around the room. “I haven't seen anything like civilization in years,” he said, his eyes wide. “You don't think
he
might be hiding here, do you?”

May shook her head, ignoring the bad feeling. “Don't worry, Lucius.” She turned and squinted at the carving of the tree again,
and then peered at the shelves along the nearest wall, which held various stacks of scrolls.

May walked over to them and pulled one out. Carefully she unrolled it.

“Look!” she called back over her shoulder to the other two. She took several papers from the different piles:
The Lower Realm at a Glance: A Criminal's Guide to the Southern Territories; Top 100 Destinations For Looting and Pillaging; What to Expect When You're Expecting to be Executed.

Lucius remained on the other side of the room, by the door, hovering unsurely and staring around. Pumpkin came and looked with her, still holding his nose.

Beside the shelves of brochures was a huge book. May scooted over to it and read the cover.
Who's Who in Nine Knaves Grotto and Maps to Where They Live.

May rubbed the cover with her hand. “Look at this.”

Finally Pumpkin drifted over. “Oh, nifty.” He grabbed the cover and pulled it open.

Suddenly windows started slamming shut.

Then the two double doors.

Lucius, standing by a window, cast about quickly with his eyes. “It's the Bogey!”

With a lightning fast zip, he careened across the tavern toward the last open door, but just as he did, one of the sacks of liquid fell from above and landed on his head, burst open, and splashed him with black water.

His face contorted into one horrified look. And then he vanished.

“Lucius!” May screamed. She leaped toward him, but Lucius had gone. Only a round puddle of seawater lay on the ground
where he'd been hovering. “No!” At the same time May felt breathing on her neck. She turned and leaped back to see she was face-to-face with a man hanging from the rafters by his knees, his hands hanging down below him, one of them holding a watergun filled with black liquid.

May tried to run, but he pushed her up against the wall with one frigid hand, holding the water gun to her throat.

He smiled a wicked, sickly grin at her.

“Welcome to the grotto. I hear yer looking fer me.”

P
umpkin let out a startled scream and shot for the door. The man laughed. “I'd freeze where ye are, or ye'll end up like yer friend.”

Pumpkin, hovering and quaking, slowly turned.

“Get back here where I can look at ye.”

Pumpkin complied, sidling up behind May.

In a vaporous swirl the man oozed down from the rafters and came to an upright hover an inch off the floor. He was a gruesome sight. Underneath his filthy clothes, which were ripped and covered in mold, his body was gaunt. His hollow cheeks sucked themselves underneath his cheekbones so that he looked like he was trying to make a fish face. Cockroaches crawled out from beneath his collar and into his hair and scraggly beard.

“A Live One! Look at you.” The man laughed heartily again and lowered his water gun. He wore a smile, but his eyes glinted like steel. A cockroach ran along his bottom lip. “I haven't seen one of your kind in years. I couldn't believe it when they said you'd come through the gate! What a sight! I'm John.” He thrust out his hand. “Ye can call me Mr. Jibber.”

May stared at his hand. “Where's Lucius?” she asked, too stunned to speak above a whisper, her eyes glued to the spot where Lucius had vanished.

John eyed her sympathetically. “I'd say he's about a hundred miles south of us right now, dearie.”

“No!” May threw her hands up over her mouth. Tears welled along the ridges of her eyes.

She felt a cold pricking on her chin. John the Jibber had tucked an index finger there and was lifting her face to look at him. “Chin up, lass. Don't waste yer time feeling sorry fer what's already past. Nothing you or I can do.”

May shrank back, not just from his words, which sounded mean and hard, but from the unbearable smell. Just when she'd gotten used to the smell of the town hall, he'd appeared with a stench three times as bad. He smelled like maggots and slime and mold and old socks and all the bad things May could think of. As she moved backward she bumped into Pumpkin, who was cowering behind her. She felt stuck between them like ham in a sandwich. She turned back to John and swiped at her tears. “Y-You're John the Jibber.”

“Don't like the looks of me, eh? Well, I don't blame ye. But it isn't me fault, what happened to yer friend. Everybody knows not to use the west door of the tavern. Except intruders.

May was speechless. John seemed to take this as agreement, because he once again burst into a wide grin.

“Hey, mates,” he called back over his shoulder. “C'mon out! We've got ourselves a Live One in the grotto!”

An explosion of voices filled the hall.

“We're not yer mates, John the Jibber,” one voice called. It seemed like it was almost just beneath May's feet.

“You wish, Jibber!” said another.

Slowly specters began arriving from all directions—oozing up through the cracks in the floor, pouring in through the front door of the hall. The women were as rough-looking as the men. Many of them were covered in scars and tattoos, several were missing fingers. One was missing a head. As May watched in awe, they watched her in return, crowding around her and Pumpkin, but only staring at
her.
Some grabbed drinks from the bar before they joined the others.