“All right,” she said.
“All right?”
“You want my help,” said Skylar. “I’ll help you.”
Emerson dropped the board to hug Skylar. Relieved, she felt the heat in her face fade. Skylar matched the force of Emerson’s hug and put her hand on top of Emerson’s head.
“I’ll help you,” she said again. “I’ll help.”
Emerson pulled away from Skylar. She spread out the board to explain all the pieces she’d collected.
“So I started with the first news story the day after—”
A loud explosion came from outside. Skylar went to the window.
“No,” she whispered.
A string of explosions followed, and Emerson and Friday joined her at the window. A thick black plume of smoke rose into the air a few blocks away. Emerson felt a tightening in her chest.
“I’m going to go see what’s going on,” said Skylar.
“I’m going with you.”
“No. We don’t know what’s happening. You and Friday stay here. I’ll run down and check it out. And I’ll be right back.”
Skylar sprinted out the door, and Friday and Emerson stayed at the window. A mass of people scattered and scrambled in every direction on the streets below. Nowhere seemed safe.
CHAPTER 12
ALL ABOARD
“Here’s something you don’t see every day,” said Oliver as he reached the bottom step of the IRT station.
“What’s that?” asked Jasper.
“A spotless subway station in New York.”
The light from the sconces reflected off the jewel-colored mosaics on the walls and provided an eerie welcome. Like an overly friendly New Yorker, it couldn’t be trusted. It smelled like the sea. It was cavernous and cold. It begged for action like a perfectly set stage.
“Lachlan?” Oliver shouted. The only response was his own echo.
Jasper pointed down the train tunnel at an approaching white light. The piercing cry of a whistle reverberated through the tunnel, forcing them to cover their ears.
“Raymond was right,” Jasper shouted. “Stand back.”
“Is it playing music?” Oliver yelled.
Jasper’s face hardened. “Those are pipes,” he said to himself. “Organ pipes. What is he up to?”
They pressed their bodies against the icy wall of the station as the train sped toward them. The deep organ music filled their ears and drowned out any hope of hearing one another speak. The train screeched to a halt with the door to the last car directly in front of them. The music instantly stopped as though someone had flipped a switch. The silence was deafening.
Spit-shined, the gold and silver trim on the black steel cars gleamed in the light as though this were the train’s maiden voyage. The door of the last car slid open, and Jasper walked toward it without hesitation.
“I believe this is our ride,” he said.
Oliver remained frozen against the wall. Jasper turned around and casually stared at Oliver with his hands folded in front of him.
“Are you coming, Oliver?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“We always have a choice,” said Jasper.
Oliver relented, and together they boarded the train.
“Lachlan has more style than I gave him credit for,” said Jasper.
The inside of the train sparkled. The light reflecting off the metal trim shone so brightly that it blinded Oliver when he stood in just the right spot. In the center of the car, there was a small round table, entirely carved from deep red wood, polished to the hilt, and set with two highball glasses. The sound of the pipe organ surged again as the train lurched forward without warning. The motion sent them tumbling backward into the rich leather banquette that surrounded the table.
“Where do you think it’s taking us?” asked Oliver.
“Exactly where we need to go,” said Jasper.
He headed toward the front of the train, and Oliver followed. As they reached the far end of the car, the connecting door slid open. The next car was an exact duplicate of the car they had boarded.
“You’re getting warmer,” said a woman’s silky voice through the train speakers.
Oliver jumped at the sound of the voice. Jasper didn’t break his stride.
“That’s her voice,” Oliver said. “It’s Cassandra.”
“I know,” said Jasper.
Oliver’s hands began to shake. He felt like a fool for being so headstrong. He had to get out of here. He had to get back to Emerson. He began to bang on the walls of the train. Jasper grabbed him from behind by the shoulders.
“You’ve got to stay calm,” Jasper said in a low voice as he looked around the train for a camera of some kind. Clearly, Cassandra could see them. She could likely hear them, too.
“What are we going to do?” Oliver whispered.
“If we can get to the front of the train, we can stop it and pry open the outside doors.”
Oliver nodded in agreement. He didn’t have any better ideas so he followed Jasper’s lead.
They walked through a dozen cars, each a perfect replica of the others, until they reached the lead car. The headlights were off, and the tunnel was pitch black, making it impossible to see anything ahead of them. Oliver looked back over his shoulder. The other cars they’d walked through were gone.
They reached the conductor’s booth. Jasper took a deep breath, pulled the latch, and slid open the door.
Inside, a man was slumped forward onto the controls with his hand clenched around the cord that activated the whistle. Oliver grabbed the man’s shoulders and moved him back in his seat.
“Lachlan,” he said.
Lachlan’s face was ashen, and he had two black teardrops tattooed below his left eye. He was dead.
A small piece of paper was trapped between his lips. Jasper clasped it between his fingers and tugged. Lachlan’s mouth fell open. His tongue had been replaced with the paper. The wound was completely healed as if he’d never had a tongue at all. Jasper removed the paper and held it up for Oliver to read.
“He who wants waits.”
Jasper touched his index finger to Lachlan’s icy forehead and put his ear close to Lachlan’s face to hear his final thought. A faint whisper filled the conductor’s booth: “Give her what she wants or she’ll take everything else.”
“That’s what Cassandra said to me at Stargrass,” said Jasper.
“Lachlan knew,” said Oliver. “He knew where to find the book. Cassandra got to him before we did.”
“Now the question is did she get any information about it before she killed him.”
“What do we do?” asked Oliver.
“We get off this train. Now.”
CHAPTER 13
NOWHERE TO RUN
When Skylar got down to the street, it was crowded with a mass of frantic people. The panicked crowd nearly trampled her as she stood motionless on the sidewalk, her eyes fixed in the direction of the explosions. People were pouring out of buildings and cabs to sprint uptown away from the explosions that sounded rapid as gunfire. The smoke was thick; Skylar could feel it clogging her lungs.
She had to get Emerson to Pomander Walk, the only place where she would be safe now. As she turned to run back into Emerson’s building, someone behind her pinned both of her arms to her sides. She screamed and then was silenced by an enormous hand clamped over her mouth. She bit the hand and threw her elbow into the gut of the person attacking her. He released his hold, and Skylar dashed inside.
A thick black cloud enveloped her face. The building was on fire. She held her breath and dragged herself across the lobby on her stomach. She slapped the floor as she searched frantically for the stairs. She felt dizzy, and her head fell forward. The coldness of the floor against her forehead helped, but it wasn’t enough to maintain her focus
. With a last gasp, she yelled Emerson’s name.
CHAPTER 14
WHAT LIES BENEATH
The train stopped again just as suddenly as it had started. The organ music fell silent, and the doors to the only remaining train car opened. As soon as Jasper’s and Oliver’s feet hit the platform, the train sped back in the direction it had come. They were stranded.
A copper door loomed in front of them. Jasper approached it carefully, tracing the imprint of the design on the door with his index finger and letting his gaze rest on a crest made of two swans. He stared in disbelief.
“This door is a larger version of the one in Raymond’s office,” he said.
“And those are the same swans as the ones on the door of Pomander Walk,” said Oliver. His throat went dry. This had to be Cassandra’s handiwork. She had gotten to Lachlan.
A small panel at the center of the door slid open. Jasper raised his eyebrow, and Oliver reached into the opening.
“A View-Master?” asked Oliver as he pulled out the retro toy.
“Not quite.” Jasper pressed a small button, and a hologram of a woman’s face appeared above the toy. Oliver gasped. It was Nora. She smiled and beckoned them closer.
“The only way out is through,” she hissed as she pointed toward the door.
Jasper and Oliver eyed the handle of the door as it moved down to release the lock.
Suddenly, they heard the roar of the ocean. A flood of water rushed at them from the opening at the far end of the tunnel. Oliver dropped the View-Master, and it shattered. Jasper raised his right hand toward the water and it stopped, contained by an invisible wall. The water filled the shape of the tunnel to the ceiling, and its sound raged against the wall Jasper had created.
“My shoulders, Oliver!” he shouted.
Oliver placed both of his hands on Jasper’s shoulders, who held his left hand toward the ceiling and bore a hole through the ground to the surface. Light poured in from above. The moment he dropped his right hand, the water surged, forcing them to the surface through the hole Jasper had just carved.
Oliver spewed salt water from his mouth and caught his breath on hands and knees. He looked up to discover that they were at the edge of Central Park, just opposite his home. The building was barely visible behind a thick cloud of black smoke.
CHAPTER 15
SMALL AND MIGHTY
Emerson’s heart thundered in her chest as she watched the chaos unfold on the streets. Her hand brushed the radiator below the apartment window.
“Ouch!” she yelped.
A blister immediately formed on her finger. The radiator was as hot as an iron in a fire, and it started to tick. Friday dug at the floor a few feet away from her. He howled in a gut-wrenching tone Emerson didn’t recognize. She looked closely at the spot where he was digging.
“No,” she whispered.
The tiles on the floor started to buckle. She touched them, and the skin on her finger sizzled. Another yelp. Another blister.
Emerson clutched Friday’s collar and raced to the door. The doorknob was hot. She ran back to the enclosed stairwell entrance in the kitchen. That door was hot, too. They were surrounded by fire. Emerson was paralyzed with fear. Friday grabbed her shirt with his teeth and yanked her toward the front door. Tears scorched her face. Her stomach burned.
When she pulled the door open, smoke flooded into the apartment. Her heartbeat blasted in her ears. Friday led the way as Emerson crouched as low as possible. They crawled toward the stairs in the stifling heat and noxious smoke. Her eyes burned, but miraculously, she could see right through the black cloud. And despite the noxious smoke, she could breathe.
She was halfway down the stairs when she heard Mrs. Morgan wail. Without thinking, she smacked Friday’s rump hard to get him to go down the stairs. He took off without her and Emerson heaved herself back up the stairs to Mrs. Morgan’s apartment. The door was wide open, and Mrs. Morgan was lying on the ground.
Without hesitating, Emerson scooped up Mrs. Morgan, and to her surprise, the woman was as light as a feather. She crouched low and scrambled down the stairs with Mrs. Morgan in her arms. She didn’t realize she had reached the ground floor until she saw some light from the front door filter through the smoke. Friday was barking incessantly at something at the bottom of the stairs. Emerson recognized Skylar’s shirtsleeve.
Emerson put Mrs. Morgan on the floor beside Skylar, grabbed them both by their shirt collars, and dragged them out of the building. Just outside the door, her knees gave way, and her cheek cracked against the concrete sidewalk as she fell. A thick stream of salty blood gushed into her mouth. Her eyes closed, and she felt herself falling through darkness. The sound of sirens blared in her ears, and someone far away was calling her name.
A sweltering heat consumed her whole body now. But then a lightness soared underneath her and plunged her into a frigid pool of air. She felt the touch of many hands as a chorus of muffled voices swirled around her. She wanted to open her eyes but couldn’t. They were sealed shut. Something clamped down over her nose and mouth, and then she was gone.
CHAPTER 16
MEDIA MANIA
Oliver and Friday peeked through a small slit in the curtains and saw a flurry of flashing lights. Jasper sat in a chair between Emerson’s and Skylar’s hospital beds as they slept, hooked up to machines by a tangle of tubes and wires. Moments after the men had reached Oliver’s home, a team of medics had transferred Emerson, Skylar, and Mrs. Morgan into ambulances.
Despite her age, Mrs. Morgan only had mild smoke inhalation. She was released to rest at home, but before she left the hospital, she told Oliver that Emerson had saved her life.
Emerson and Skylar had more extensive injuries that required greater attention. Oliver hadn’t left his daughter’s hospital room since she’d arrived.
“Move away from the window, Oliver,” said Jasper.
Friday moved away from the window and laid down at Jasper’s feet; Oliver didn’t move.
“When are they going to leave?” he asked as he watched the swarm of journalists and bystanders, all poised with cameras, phones, and microphones in hand.
“Let’s hope they don’t leave until we can get Emerson into hiding,” said Jasper. “With the media attention, Cassandra’s less likely to come near her. Whatever she’s planning is still buried deep underground, and the press will help keep it that way.”
A pair of oversized gruff men approached the hospital room door. In the hallway, Truman spoke to them and then signaled to Jasper.
“Our reinforcements have arrived,” said Jasper.
“Can’t you go without me?” Oliver asked.
“Not this time. This decision’s too important.”
“I already told you how I feel about it.”
“But now the question is where to take her,” said Jasper.
“What do you mean where?” asked Oliver. “She’ll go to Pomander Walk, where we’ve taken everyone who’s ever needed protection.”
“I think there’s a better place,” said Jasper. “A place that has something to teach her.”
Oliver took a deep breath and walked to Emerson’s bed. He pressed his lips to her forehead. Jasper took Skylar’s hand in his, breathed a heavy sigh, and followed Oliver to the door. He looked back at Friday.
“You’ll look after them while we’re away?” asked Jasper. Friday huffed and moved over to the foot of Emerson’s bed.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said.
CHAPTER 17
CLOSE CALL
Outside the hospital room, Truman stretched his neck like a boxer entering the ring as Jasper and Oliver came into the hallway. The presence of Silas and Owen Milner, towering twins originally from Bosnia, underscored the gravity of the situation. Truman had been a scrawny kid the last time he’d seen them.
“Thank you for making such good time, gentle
men,” said Jasper, smiling at them. “You remember Oliver Page, Emerson’s father and Nora’s husband.”
Oliver nodded his head, and they nodded in reply.
“We won’t let anything happen to her while you’re gone, Mr. Page,” said Silas. “Your wife was a great friend to us when we most needed one. It’s an honor to protect her daughter.”
“Thank you,” said Oliver as he shook hands with the brothers. He turned to Truman.
“Good luck,” said Truman. “I’ll guard them with my life. I owe them that. I owe you that.”
Oliver put his hand on Truman’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
Jasper also shook hands with Silas and Owen. Then he and Oliver charged toward the double doors of the ICU and disappeared around the corner.
“I remember you,” Owen said to Truman. Owen traced the side of his own face from his eye to his jaw. “Same scar.”
Truman nodded and suddenly felt small. The two black teardrops below the eye were a mark Cassandra insisted on in the In-Between: one tear for the life they’d left behind and one for the new life they received by joining her. Those who escaped—as Truman, Silas, and Owen eventually did—had the teardrops removed, but the scar remained.
Truman turned his attention to Skylar and Emerson as they lay in their hospital beds side by side, eyes closed, faces expressionless. Truman had never seen them so relaxed, or so damaged. His eyes focused on the medical charts that hung at the ends of their beds. They were as thick as novels.
Emerson stirred and raised her arm as if reaching out for someone. Her heart monitor began to pulse loudly, and a rush of doctors and nurses stormed through the door.
“What’s wrong?” Truman yelled from the doorway as the doctors and nurses pushed him out of the way.
Emerson’s heart monitor showed erratic peaks and valleys as one of the nurses shouted, “We’re losing her!”
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