The Artful (Shadows of the City) (18 page)

I sat on the hard floor. The sound of tiny nails running back and forth told me I wasn’t alone. I wondered about the phrase “trapped like rats.” They clearly weren’t trapped; they could come and go as they pleased. Meanwhile, here I was, a victim of my size, stuck in a makeshift cell. Trapped. Trapped like humans.

For a while, I tried keeping track by counting the seconds, but, after eight minutes passed, I realized how useless it was, other than driving me crazy. What point did I have knowing how long I was down here? I leaned against the course cloth of a potato sack and tried to force my eyes to the darkness. I could make out dim shapes, and a faint light under the door. Nothing useful, all I could do was become acquainted with patience, save my strength, and bide my time. I closed my eyes. Still exhausted from my run across the city, beyond all sensibility, I fell asleep.

Then there was a click.

I looked around in confusion, my brain refusing to register that it was the door. No one entered, so what logic would it be that it was now unlocked? Caution refused to let me check, probably better to stay put. Nothing good could come from a mysteriously unlocked door. A mouse ran across my lap. I sighed, closing my eyes again. This had Dodger written all over it, but not me. I was careful and thoughtful. It wouldn’t suit me or anyone else to go running blindly into the unknown.

The Empire had caught me, but they still needed what Smith stole. Dodger would work something out to rescue me. The thought sent a surge of anger through me. I had enough rescuing from him. I had to stand on my own two feet! The two feet I found had fallen to sleep as I stumbled up into a standing position, leaning on the wall for support. I staggered over to the door, trying the knob. It was cold to the touch and turned ever so quietly.

I stared out into the hall, expecting to find danger; instead, I found one solitary candle light flickering at the end. I thought it was floating on its own and entertained the idea that a haunting would bring a whole new level of trouble. But my eyes adjusted, and I realized the faint outline of a cloaked figure held the beaconing light. The figure waited for me to follow. I took my first step, and the candle moved down the hall, leaving me in devouring darkness.

I rubbed at my sleeping legs, watching as the light receded, deciding on following or staying. Before the darkness became absolute, I decided to follow. The candle kept just far enough ahead of me that I couldn’t make it out properly, but whoever held it was methodical. Every time it got too far ahead, it would wait, lighting the way until I reached a safe following distance.

I had lost track of how long I had been locked in the supply room, but it must have been for some time, because the once well-lit cathedral was now a dark tomb. The paintings on the wall took on a life of their own, sad eyes following me, pleading with me to free them. More than once I passed doors that masked the light sounds of snoring or women giggling, lost in a state of pleasure. Living underground for a majority of my life made me used to darkness, but the intrusive echoes of clattering feet on wood made me more than uncomfortable. Every step I took was like a loud announcement.

I followed the light up a set of spiral stairs and silently thanked my elusive partner for leading us. Always better to be higher up when behind enemy lines. That way you could piss on them, Dodger would say. And, you know, not get trapped. The stairs led to a narrow hallway, a maze of twists and turns, and finally a new light. The silent specter blew out the candle, and continued on, aided by the faint light in the distance. They slowed down, but I had grown tired of the mazes and hurriedly tried to catch up.

The figure came to a stop, looked at me once, and then pulled back a curtain, letting bright light shine through. It walked through and held the curtain open for me. I followed, using my hand to protect my eyes from the light’s full glow, which shone from the massive chandelier hanging only feet in front of us. We emerged onto a balcony overlooking the Great Hall. The curtain dropped back into place, and I realized it was in fact a tapestry. A man and woman, both standing naked in a garden filled with lush greens and a radiant sunset. The girl coyly handed an apple to the cautious-looking man.

The cloaked figure held a finger up to its face, asking for silence, then pointed the same finger to the bottom level. I peeked over the railing, taking care not to put too much weight on it. It jostled easily back and forth and threatened to give with little encouragement. Down below sat Adam, bored as ever, head rested on his recliner’s back, mid-sigh. An Angel kneeled before him.

“She’s getting out of hand,” said Adam. “Why do I even keep her around anymore, to sit there with that vacant look and undermine me?”

“I know, Eve proves troublesome, but remember the two of you were the chosen, both brought here to create Eden. Is this not what you have been preaching for the past ten years?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… no need to preach to the choir. I just question the usefulness of Eve.”

“She must carry your baby, a child of pure blood, who will help usher in the new era.”

Adam, as if hit by a surge of energy, jumped out of his seat. Grabbing the Angel by his shoulders, he shook him like a troubled kid. “Am I the only one aware of her mental state? How likely is it that she would bear a useful child? She’s not all there anymore.”

“That’s not a matter for us to worry over. What matters most is that she have a child, as soon as possible. After that, we no longer need her.”

Adam released the Angel and bid him to stand. This Angel was different than the others; his robe was decorated, woven with gold-laced symbols up and down the arms. I also noticed, as his hood fell down, that he had long black hair pulled back into a ponytail. As if he alone, outside of Adam and Eve deserved the right to grow hair, a sign of rank.

“I see no point! They follow me anyway. They would follow me into the pits of hell if I asked, and they all see her as a joke!”

“Our army would follow you into hell. But imagine the power you would hold with the child born of Adam and Eve, pure of blood and touched by the light of God, a savior in this new world. Imagine how many sheep would flock to your call just to stand in the light of the child. We could have converts by the thousands.”

“And if we don’t?”

“The ones we have now would have no problem slaughtering the unbelievers. They hold faith in you, but their belief lies in a future that you must usher in. A child will do that.”

“How is it they still have faith in me, sitting on my throne next to her?”

“They believe it is the words of God that drive her mad. It is only in your favor.”

“Fine, we will keep trying, but my patience wears thin with her. If she doesn’t bear me a child by summer, I will have her hanged.”

“Sir, if it comes to that, might I suggest… it would be in our best interest if she were murdered by the unbelievers. She would be a martyr. It would work in our favor.”

“Finally, something we can agree on!”

“But only if she does not bear a child.”

“Even if she does, we will still martyr her.” Adam laughed, hitting the Angel hard on the shoulder. He stretched and walked away into the dark recesses of the hall. The Angel stood for a minute longer. Then he looked up directly at me. His skeletal face made my stomach turn. Cold fear gripped my body. It wasn’t so much fear of being caught; it was something unsettling about him, so deep-rooted I could never explain. Everything in my heart said he was evil. There were men who killed and stole. Those men did it for sustenance and survival. Adam, on the other hand, did it for pleasure. He smiled and gave me a thumbs-up before walking away.

The hand that touched my arm almost caused me to jump over the railing. The cloaked figure beckoned me to follow. We walked halfway around the perimeter of the balcony, before ducking behind another mural, leading down a thin passageway, which led to a dead end. My guide felt along the stone wall, until the right spot was found. A brick went in half an inch followed by a stiff, grating sound, and a pool of light opened before us.

We walked through, into a bedroom; the figure pushed the bookcase back in place over the passage entrance. The bedroom was simple, small, though larger than anything I was ever used to. A large bed sat in one corner, covered in fresh linen; numerous fluffy pillows lay at the base of a finely carved headboard, and an obscene number of stuffed animals lay about, mocking me with their comfort. There was a desk and ornate mirror near a large window that overlooked the city. A book lay open. I glanced at the title:
Sleeping Beauty
.

I turned around just in time to see Eve’s cloak drop to her feet. Tussled hair, hungry eyes, and a broken smile. She wore a black bra and red panties. Her long, slender legs seemed endless, her tight stomach slowly inhaling and exhaling. More importantly, perfect breasts that begged to be let free from the constraints of her bra prison seemed to dance to the rhythm of her steady breathing. I opened my mouth, but no words would come. I tried to look away, but her body called to me like a silent song.

“We have to make a baby!” Eve said, leaping into my arms, the momentum causing me to stumble onto the bed. She straddled me and attacked me with an endless barrage of kisses.

he bed was soft under me, and I could already feel my muscles relaxing. How long had it been since I lay on something so soft? Eve was beautiful; it was hard to find reason to fight her off. This was all but perfect, wasn’t it? Soft bed, hot girl… ah, I couldn’t!

“What are you doing? Stop!” I don’t think I meant that. “What’s going on?”

“You heard them. They want to kill me. I need to be pregnant now!”

“It doesn’t exactly work like that!”

“It works how I say! You’re our prisoner. Do you want to escape?” She crawled off me, back up to her pillows, kicking the stuffed animals onto the floor. “You have to go through me.”

There was a loud crash outside; it almost sounded like a bomb shattering into thousands of shards of glass. We both jumped up, fully alert.

“Quick, under the bed!” she yelled.

I dove to the floor, crawling with great skill underneath the bed. The mattress sunk as she put all her weight on it. The door busted open, and two Angels came in.

“Eve, are you all right?”

“Of course I’m all right. Why are you here? I was having the best tea party with my friends, and you scared them away.”

“Sorry, we just had to check on you―”

“We would really like it if you didn’t disturb us again! Unless, of course, you brought crumpets… Did you bring any crumpets?”

“Sorry, no… we didn’t.”

“Mister Bear is getting angry!”

“We’ll be right outside if you need us.” There was a low growling noise, and then the door slammed closed.

I didn’t crawl out right away. I was wary of the guards waiting outside, but a strong hand dragged me out by my ankles. I turned over onto my back and looked up at Eve, who was standing over me with a determined look on her face.

“We need to get this over with quickly, how about we—”

“Hold on a second, what’s going on?” I found a place at the edge of the bed to sit. She sat down next to me, making no effort to respect my personal space. I tried scooting over, but she only followed. The sticky warmth of her body called my skin. I decided to stand up.