by AJ Sikes
Emma put a hand to her brow and rubbed the knot of worry that formed between her eyes.
“The man’s got to be crazy,” she said.
Eddie stuck his head out of the bathroom then, his eyes bleary and weak, and his mouth hanging open like he’d just had another round of reliving last night’s fun and games.
“Get me some coffee on, Lovebird. Gotta—”
“Get it your own damn self,” she said, and stepped past him down the hall to the stairs, holding the letters to her side. She walked up the steps fighting to prevent her mind from lingering on memories of the lipstick and perfume that had decorated Eddie’s clothes.
Chapter 28
If his old boss was anywhere around the mud tunnels, Aiden had no idea how to find the man. He’d screamed until his throat felt raw and ragged, worse than the first time his pa handed him a slug of hooch and told him to drink it down in one go.
The mud didn’t stick as much now at least. And the tramps seemed to have forgotten about him. He saw only two behind him now. One of them stopped moving as Aiden looked at him. Then the man opened his mouth to speak. His voice came down the tunnel like rushing water.
“Figger . . . figger we losht . . . losht thish’n.”
Then the man’s partner pulled up and gave Aiden a hard look. He had words for Aiden, too, and they weren’t much better than what his pal had to say.
“G’on, dove. G’on back to mammy. Get you both someday. Now g’on.”
Aiden’s heart jumped as the first one who’d stopped just fell sideways into the wall, slipping into the dirt like it wasn’t even there. The other tramp seemed to notice he was alone and turned around to look back down the tunnel. A second later, that one gave a shrug, too, and did the same trick as the first.
Aiden spun around, double-checking he wasn’t getting set up for an ambush from behind. The tunnel sat empty, cold and murky and nothing but dirt as far as he could see. Aiden waved a hand in front of his face, trying to pull back the curtain again like he had on the street. Nothing happened. So he stuck a hand at the wall like he’d move it aside, too, and the next thing he knew he’d stumbled into the alley outside the place he and his ma called home.
Aiden gave himself a quick once-over, making sure he hadn’t brought the tunnel with him all stuck to his clothes. Except for a little smear on his shoes, he looked like he’d just stepped out of a gala house after working his shift. His pants were a little wrinkled up and wet around the ankles, but that was it.
Figuring he had one chance to fix things, Aiden stepped up the stairs quiet as he could. At the landing, he took his key off the chain around his neck and undid the lock, wincing when the tumblers clicked sharp in the night.
His ma had always slept straight through the small hours when he got home. Tonight she was up, sitting at the edge of the mattress in the far corner. She had a blanket wrapped around her and her feet were stuffed into a pair of old slippers she’d just gotten from one of the sewing ladies downstairs.
“Hey, Ma,” Aiden whispered, standing in the doorway with one hand on the knob and the other on the frame.
“Close the door, Aiden. You’re letting out the heat.”
“Yes’m,” he said, stepping inside. His eyes went straight to the kitchen shelf and the can where he kept his earnings. Hoping his ma hadn’t noticed what he was looking at, he moved into the room more and made to get ready for bed.
“How much did you earn tonight, Aiden?”
Feeling a dope for letting his eyes give him away he shook his head and put together the best lie he could.
“About the same.”
“And how much is that?”
“Eight-eight or ten cents, Ma,” Aiden said, hoping he still had that much left after Theo Valcour went digging and came up a rich man at Aiden’s expense.
“Let me see it, Aiden,” his ma said, and Aiden felt his guts start rolling around. He tucked a hand into his pocket and collected the coins he felt there.
Bringing his hand out, Aiden knew it’d be jake with his ma. He had at least one dime left in his pocket. He brought the coins to his ma who held out her hand for them. Aiden’s ma looked like a ghost in the weak light that was coming in through the window in the door. Her face looked gray, like ash, and her hair hung around her head like old wet straw.
“You okay, Ma?” he said, handing over the coins.
“I’m fine, Aiden,” she said. “I just wish you could tell me the truth. This is sixteen cents, Aiden. Sixteen. Not eight. Not ten.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, fumbling for the next lie that might get him out of this fix. Or sink him lower. “I guess . . . I guess Mama Shandy—”
“Oh, I wish you wouldn’t call her that, Aiden. She’s no momma to you and never will be. I’m your mother, young man.” Aiden’s ma stood up, bringing the blanket with her so she stayed wrapped up in it. She glared at him, and Aiden was sure he felt her eyes digging into him somehow. Her mouth looked different, too, meaner than he’d ever seen it.
“That woman who pays you to clean her floors is nothing but a-a two-bit, lazy old—Oh, dammit, Aiden.” His ma stomped a foot and then seemed to wish she hadn’t. She looked down at the floor, like she could see through it.
“Mrs. Duffy is probably still sleeping, Aiden. You should get some sleep and don’t make any noise. Here,” she said, holding out the coins. “Put those away with your other ill-gotten gains.”
Aiden took the coins back and tried to ignore the look in his ma’s eyes. She’d had tough words for him before, but never like now. Something changed in her voice just there when she was talking about Mama Shandy, right before she cut off. Aiden knew what she’d meant to say. He could hear the word ringing in his ears, with his mother’s voice filling it with all the anger and hatred she’d ever felt for anyone or anything.
With quiet steps, Aiden went to the kitchen and slowly added the coins to the coffee can on the shelf. One at a time they slid down the side of the can to chink against the others in there.
Hope it’s enough to buy me a new cart.
~•~
His ma got up at dawn, like always. She made herself breakfast and left the tea kettle on the stove for Aiden. Like always. But she didn’t bother setting his place at the table. Aiden tried to make it even out, like she was doing it to show him how hurt she felt. But he couldn’t find it in him to make that work. His ma was acting ten kinds of mean, and Aiden knew he’d only earned two or three at most.
After scrambling an egg and eating it with toast and a glass of milk from the icebox, Aiden went to the shelf and got his can. As soon as he lifted it, he knew something was wrong.
She took my pay!
Sure enough, almost half the money he’d had in there was missing. But a note had been left in its place.
Dear Aiden,
You’ll recall I gave you the five dollars you needed to buy the cleaning cart in the first place. It’s time you learned about repaying a debt, young man. The two dollars I took this morning are the first payment. I expect you to pay the remaining three dollars within the next month.
“Not even a ‘Love, Mom,’ hey?” he said, eyeing the note like it might burst into flames the longer he held it. He flung it to the ground and snatched up the can, pouring the coins out into his pocket. The tinkling of metal on metal wasn’t half as loud as it should have been. With two dollars gone, he knew he didn’t have enough for a new cart from Mama Shandy. Maybe he had enough to start paying for one, though. The house mother wouldn’t be any nicer than his ma about paying off a debt, and was as likely to be much worse. But what choice did he have?
Where else could he get a job in New Orleans? The docks? He’d heard about guys his size working out there. They didn’t last long. Usually ended up face down in the water if they got found at all.
With his earnings in his pocket, Aiden set out down the stairs. He stopped when his feet hit the alley because his mother’s voice came to him from the sewing room door.
&
nbsp; “Where are you off to, Aiden?”
“I’m going to see about getting a new broom. For Ma—the lady I work for. I broke the other one.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this last night? You should be more careful, Aiden. That money has places to be, including your mother’s pocket. You wouldn’t have it without me giving you that five dollars anyway, and I hope you remember that from now on.”
“Yes’m,” he said, tucking his cap down and waiting for his ma to go back inside.
When she’d closed the door, Aiden lifted a hand up by his ear and felt for the curtain he now knew was there. Sure enough his fingers dragged against something that felt like fabric, but light and easy to move. He tugged and the memories of the alleyway opened up beside him.
Aiden risked a peek behind the curtain, hoping to see more than a muddy tunnel this time. Or a mob of muddy tramps come to claim him as their own.
The tunnel was there again, and it was empty. But instead of just a dark muddy passage, Aiden could see outlines of doorways, openings off the sides here and there, and a little more light than before, too. The doorways and side passages all had cobblestone floors.
Figuring he didn’t have long to spare, Aiden thought about hot-footing it to Mama Shandy’s. Back in Chicago City, when Mr. Brand had taken him behind the curtain, they’d skipped halfways across town in a few heartbeats. Maybe he could do the same thing here.
Aiden tried a few steps in the mud, then thought about Mama Shandy’s place, where she did her business and kept her books. He knew about it because he’d had to follow her there the first time, when she’d bought him off that priest.
The tunnel stretched out in front of him, long and empty, with hollow patches in the walls where doors stood waiting. One passage, far away and up ahead, began glowing. Aiden made for the side passage and was surprised to find himself standing in front of it after only a few steps.
“Just like Mr. Brand did,” he said, feeling a smile working its way onto his face. That smile fell when a voice shocked Aiden like a two-thousand-volt seat cushion.
“You, uh . . . you needed to see me?”
Aiden spun around and saw his old boss standing there, half in and half out of the wall behind him.
“Mr. Brand? Jeez, you put a guy off his legs all right. Where’d you come from? And how’d you know I—?”
“It’s how it goes now. You need me, I show up. Comes with the territory, I guess. You’re the boss these days. I’m the messenger boy.” he said, stepping into the tunnel. Mr. Brand took off his hat and held it in front of his stomach.
Aiden thought about what he’d said and it added up in his head all right. “Well, yeah. I mean, you were right. About the letter. I guess I’ll take it off you now,” Aiden said, holding his hand out. Mr. Brand already had his face aimed at the ground, but whatever parts hadn’t found their way down there sure looked ready to join in now.
“Yeah, about that letter. It’s with Miss Farnsworth. I don’t know where she is and doubt she’ll let on any time soon. She seemed happy to see me go, kinda the way you did when I tried to hand the letter to you the first time. I’m not counting on her calling me back again, though.”
“Calling you—Miss Farnsworth is . . . she’s like this, too? Like me?”
“And then some, yeah. You’ve got Innocence in there,” Mr. Brand said, looking up and pointing at Aiden’s chest, but dropping his eyes just as fast. “Miss Farnsworth, heh . . .” Mr. Brand let his laugh trickle off like water from a leaky tap.
“What about her?” Aiden asked. “She’s one of the good ones, ain’t she? I mean, I figure that’s where things are at with me, hey? Innocence is a good thing, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” Mr. Brand said, and Aiden knew the man had just ducked the question without missing a beat, and would keep on ducking it no matter how many times Aiden asked.
“But Miss Farnsworth. She’s good. Right?”
“She’s who she is,” Mr. Brand said. “And right now she needs your help. Mine, too, if there’s anything I’ve got left to give that could be called help. I might have some favors I can call in. We’ll see.
“But things are going wrong because the letter’s with the wrong person. This city’s going a little sideways, and a storm’s coming in off the coast. It’s gonna be a big one unless you can get that letter from Miss Farnsworth and maybe help her out of the fix she’s got herself in.”
“Why, what’s the big deal about a letter?”
“Just like in Chicago City, the way Hubris and Industry worked a con to take control of the whole city. They sent Larson around after all the other messengers, disrupting the mail, see? Gods have to communicate to keep things steady. When the mail gets messed up, things don’t go right. At first it’s just small potatoes. Eventually, maybe a city burns down, or a storm takes it off the map. Let it go long enough, it’s the war to end all wars, redux.”
“Okay,” Aiden said, nodding and feeling the truth of his old boss’s words settle into his heart. “I need to read that letter or something bad’s going to happen to the city, and Miss Farnsworth’s got the letter. So how do I find her?”
“She’s working for Bacchus, flying girls around the city while her jazz man plays his horn for them in the gala houses. Just keep going to work and I bet you’ll see her soon enough. Was that all you wanted?”
Aiden gave his old boss a look, and the way Mr. Brand’s face went slack told Aiden he’d made his point. But he added a few words for good measure.
“Yeah, that’s all,” he said.
Mr. Brand lifted up the curtain behind him and slipped out of sight, leaving Aiden alone in the tunnel by Mama Shandy’s place. Feeling the coins in his pocket, Aiden put a hand on the outline of the passageway in the tunnel wall, and a second later he stood on the street in front of Mama Shandy’s house. His jaw fell open and his eyes went wide at the sight.
The windows were blacked out and the porch sagged on one side. The fine paint and polished wood were all chipped and scratched up. All around him, Aiden felt the air like a wet sheet sticking to his skin. A second later, and like it was meant for good measure, a hot wind whipped through the night and turned Aiden’s face to the side. At the base of a tree out front of Mama Shandy’s, Aiden saw black feathers lying this way and that, like they’d fallen from the angry clouds overhead.
Chapter 29
Emma kept on worrying herself about what Brand had said, and what was in the letter she hadn’t opened. She tried to ignore it, but the envelope with her name on it kept finding a way in front of her face. She’d put it in her dresser drawer, with her underthings. The next morning it was on the night table beside her bed, waiting for her when she woke up. She’d stuck it under her pillow and went downstairs only to find the letter on the kitchen counter next to the cutlery block.
Now she carried it in her coat pocket while she walked Eddie to the curb where his band waited in a van. They didn’t have any shows lined up this week, he’d said, so they were going to rehearse at the Sun tonight. Emma had planned to go along, but she’d been called up by Bacchus to run the girls to another gala house.
“Be home late tonight, Emma. But don’t you worry. Me and the fellas just be playin’ our numbers and learnin’ some new ones. Supposed to be a big night comin’ up soon, so we gotta play good and smooth.”
“Maybe I can go with you then,” she said, doing her best to make the words sound sincere.
“Yeah. Maybe so,” Eddie said, kissing her on the cheek. He stepped into the van and waved before closing the door. She watched the van drive off and didn’t even pretend she hadn’t heard the whooping and laughter that faded into the night air behind the dimming tail lights.
A warm wind swept through the air, leaving fingers of moisture tickling Emma’s face. She wanted to enjoy it, but it just felt heavy and unwelcome. Suffocating, like a hug she couldn’t escape.
~•~
An hour later, Emma was on the
Vigilance, opening the door so the girls could board and take their place at the rear of the cabin. They came in like usual, slow and somber, and a seventh girl had joined them this time. Pretty and dark-skinned, the girl hung back with the chaperone, who gave Emma a mild curtsey as she stepped off the gangway. The new girl looked like she might be sick any minute and the chaperone seemed to hold her close with her eyes.
Emma gave the new chaperone what she hoped was a friendly wave. The woman gave back a half-hearted smile beneath eyes that couldn’t decide if they wanted to frown or grimace. Then she seemed to remember something and her face lit up.
“Miss Emma, a pleasure. I’m Lisette Durand,” the chaperone said. “A pleasure,” she said again, extending a gloved hand.
“You said that twice,” Emma replied, simply nodding rather than shaking the chaperone’s hand.
“Oh, you’re right, Miss Emma,” the woman said, retracting her hand to clutch her little bag closer to her bosom. Emma didn’t miss the way the chaperone’s worried eyes aimed in the new girl’s direction.
“I did. My apologies, please. I’m—That is, this is my first time in an airship, you see, so I suppose that’s why I’m acting nervous. Do excuse me, please.”
Emma nodded and went to close the door. Something smelled funny about the chaperone and the new girl. She didn’t know everything about Bacchus’s operation, but she knew enough to figure the chaperones had dirty tricks of their own, just like their boss. Still, this was the first time one of them had anything like kind words to share, much less a curtsey of respect. Emma wasn’t sure if that meant good or bad for the future, so she gave up, deciding it was wasted time. She was too busy with her own concerns.
Emma had a plan for tonight that would require the chaperone to trust her. If it worked out, she’d get inside the gala house and at least see what it looked like and what kind of “dancing and laughing” went on there. Then she could finally give Eddie the rundown and they could decide if it was time to run off.