Glittering Shadows

by Jaclyn Dolamore

  “Sebastian…” She drew back. “I am worried about Freddy. He lost everything. I’m afraid if he loses me, too—”

  “You won’t do him any favors by stringing him along.”

  “I know. But I’ve led him to believe that I just can’t think about relationships now. I feel like…if we could find his parents, at least. I don’t want to be so cruel as to carry on with you right in front of him when he has no one else.”

  Sebastian made a noise of frustration. “You’re right. I can make inquiries about his parents. I don’t think they’ll be a substitute for you, though.”

  Standing in front of the mirror, Thea tucked her left arm behind her.

  Now you look the part. For her first night at work, Thea wore a dark crimson dress with black buttons, paired with a plain black hat with an asymmetrical brim in the new style that fitted close to the head and curved around the forehead, both darker than her usual clothes. She had done her makeup a little darker, too, to match the image of Café Scorpio.

  But when she brought her left arm forward again, the hook was all she could see. She couldn’t imagine her customers’ eyes would be any more forgiving.

  Remember your first day at the Telephone Club? She had never had a beau, just that one school dance with a boy named Peter—she’d liked him but had not talked much because she didn’t want him to know about her home life. And suddenly, there she was, talking to dozens of strange men. Some of them leered or said scandalous things. Her fellow waitresses seemed so worldly wise.

  This still isn’t the same, she thought, a lump rising in her throat. She had learned to act worldly wise. But she could never get her hand back. She rubbed her left arm, regarding the prosthetic. Before Mr. Huber brought the hook, she had imagined some monster’s claw, but the reality was practical, almost dainty in comparison to her imagination.

  Of all the things I’ve faced, why does having people stare at me seem the hardest? It certainly wasn’t the worst. She would give up her other hand to have her father back. And you wouldn’t want to hide away forever.

  She faced the mirror again, keeping both arms in view. This job was far different than the Telephone Club, anyway. She wasn’t there to be pretty, but to wheedle out as much information from patrons as she could. Perhaps if people asked about her injury, she could use her story to get them to confide in her. A real spy would use every angle at her disposal. This was her first step toward a life that mattered, a life that went far beyond serving drinks in a cute dress.

  She grabbed her purse and hurried to the door before she lost her resolve.

  Freddy and Sebastian were hanging around downstairs. She smiled nervously. Sebastian winked at her.

  “Thea,” Freddy said, catching up with her as she was leaving. “I just have to say…you look amazing.”

  “Thanks. Really.” She hesitated, trying to think what to say. “Too bad I’m going to ruin it when I put my coat on.” The only coats she’d been able to find at the stores were hideous, so she was now the proud owner of a green-and-gold plaid coat that didn’t match anything.

  “Be careful out there,” he said.

  “Sebastian’s sending a guard to escort me there and back.”

  He nodded. “Good luck.”

  Sebastian’s right. I can’t string him along. But I can’t tell him I like him less. What possible way could I say that? He already has to deal with his awful magic; he can’t even leave the house.

  She had to stop thinking about it.

  A light snowfall had just ended, and the dirty piles from prior days surrounded the sidewalks. Thea drew fresh air into her lungs, savoring the sharp cold. A few young people were milling about on the street, looking at the house. They were probably hoping to see Marlis. Every day people came around wanting to see her with their own eyes, after all the posters and pamphlets and rumors.

  But it was a little eerie how empty the city still was only days before the winter holidays. Normally people would fill the sidewalks to shop the markets and ice-skate on the river, and windows would glow with light from evening parties. A lot of the wealthier people, the ones with second homes in the country, had moved out of the city until the situation was more secure.

  Nor was Lampenlight the place it had been. The streetlamps shone, but all the bright, dancing neon signs that had once defined this strip of the city were out, thanks to the harsh new decrees on electricity usage. The dancing legs over the Demimonde Club were now just severed limbs looming dark over the building. The moon, for once, was bright in Lampenlight, no longer drowned by human invention.

  Café Scorpio was closer to the north end of the district than the Telephone Club, occupying the basement of a narrow brick building. Incense burners hung from brass poles on either side of the entrance, sending wisps of smoke up into the bluish light of dusk.

  Thea walked into a small foyer with an empty hostess desk. A beaded curtain suggested exotic wonders beyond. Lamps with frosted globe shades set in intricate iron mounts ran along the wall, and the walls themselves were made of wooden panels with equally ornate edgework. Thea pulled the bell marked “For Service.” The proprietress, Miss Helm, had asked her to come early for orientation, so the building was quiet.

  The beads clinked softly as Miss Helm stepped through them, her hair a cloud of black frizz streaked with white. Heavy black kohl ringed her eyes, and pale makeup didn’t quite hide the wrinkles around her mouth. Her dress was plain black but cut unusually, with a capelet and a sharp ruffle over each shoulder.

  “Hello,” Thea said a little warily. “I’m Thea Holder, here about the job.”

  “Yes, yes. I know all about you from Mr. Hirsch.” Miss Helm motioned her into the back.

  “Good things, I hope,” Thea said, trying to sound lighthearted.

  “You might be his agent, but I’m still going to treat you like any of my girls.”

  “I mean to take the job seriously,” Thea said. “Did he tell you I worked at the Telephone Club for a year?”

  “Oh I wouldn’t have obliged him if you didn’t have any experience. And we’re never as busy as that place.” Miss Helm plainly didn’t think much of the Telephone Club. “How about your hand? Mr. Hirsch also warned me you might be self-conscious.”

  “He certainly had a lot to say about me.”

  “He did.” Miss Helm smiled, making Thea wish she knew precisely what he had said. “But I want to assure you that I treat my girls like family. If anyone is cruel to you, I’ll show them the door.”

  “I hope it isn’t necessary,” Thea said, feeling jittery again.

  “Well, just know that I delight in yelling at people, when warranted. Now, I need to run the rules by you, and then I’ll show you around the dining room.”

  The rules were nothing unexpected—codes of dress and conduct. Café Scorpio was much smaller than the Telephone Club: Not even fifty tables filled the floor, and three private rooms stood to the side. There was no dance floor or band pit. The room was so poorly lit, Thea worried she might stumble into things.

  “With the power rations we can only light the stage and the exits,” Miss Helm said. “But before we open, the waitresses light the candles on every table. And through these doors are the kitchens—I’ll give you a menu. A lot of things simply aren’t available anymore, I’m afraid. Lately our most popular item is a potato soup. Can you manage the plates and such?” Miss Helm asked, gesturing to Thea’s hook. “I know you’ve had a few weeks by now, but I’m not sure how difficult—”

  “I’ll manage.”

  Miss Helm walked her through a food and drink order, and just as she had practiced at home, she held the tray between her left elbow and the edge of the hook, but she wondered how it would all go when she had hungry people staring at her, jostling, some of them tipsy.

  Freddy watched Thea walk away to her new job, wishing he could walk away, too. He couldn’t leave the house without risking being captured by Otto’s spies, and while he should have been used to it, he had tasted fre
edom.

  “Freddy?” Volland approached as Freddy backed away from the window, embarrassed at being caught staring out like a restless house cat. “We’ve received a message.” His tone implied it was something serious, and Freddy tensed as he took the paper from Volland’s shivering hand, worried something might have happened to his parents.

  The message was brief, beneath the new Chancellery seal:

  Have captured an Irminauer spy. She took poison before questioning. Mr. Linden’s presence requested.

  “Brunner wants me to revive?” A lump settled into Freddy’s stomach.

  “Clearly. I think this is worthy of discussion. I’m not sure we should just cave in to this demand.”

  Marlis was furious when she saw the note. “He can’t just ask for Freddy any time because a spy poisoned herself!”

  “It does say ‘requested,’” Sebastian said. “It’s not a threat.”

  “But it is very firm,” she said.

  “Besides, what would he think if I said no?” Freddy asked. “He’s known I’ve existed this whole time, and this is the first time he’s requested my magic, so I’m sure he’s trying to be reasonable.”

  “So you want to do it?” Marlis said.

  “No,” Freddy said. “Not at all. They’re trying to question a spy who was prepared to die rather than give answers—what does that mean? Torture? And she won’t have an out the second time. It seems such a violation.”

  “You are right, though. Refusing has its own ramifications.” Sebastian had walked in carrying a deck of cards for some reason, and he shuffled them absently as he spoke. “Besides preserving our relationship with Brunner, who has been very reasonable, I do wonder what information this spy has? For all we know, it’s the one pivotal piece of information we need to win this war.”

  “I am well aware,” Freddy said. But that didn’t change the deep resistance that churned inside him. “I don’t see how I can refuse. Brunner knows I’m here; I don’t want him to get ideas about kidnapping me.”

  “I’m going with you,” Marlis said. “I want to make sure they understand that they can’t use you any way they want to.”

  Considering the tense nature of the mission, Freddy welcomed backup. “So only you’re allowed to use me any way you want to?” he said, unable to resist a jibe as they climbed into the car.

  She cut him a sideways look. “I owe you,” she said.

  At the prison, they were met by several agents, headed by a Mr. Tiersen. All the men had several inches over Freddy, and their muscular shoulders strained their suits. Freddy supposed this group had been hired to intimidate captured prisoners, but it was working just as well on him.

  “Thank you for coming, Mr. Linden. This woman was apprehended this morning by our forces in one of the border villages after she was caught searching the base and tried to flee.”

  “We have no guesses as to her identity?” Marlis asked.

  “Possibly Rosa Watts Lang, a known spy, but she doesn’t quite fit the descriptions we have. Of course, spies can be tricky that way. She has already proved herself willing to die rather than talk, so I assume it will take time to break her. We’ll send a message when she can be released.”

  Marlis glanced at Freddy.

  Freddy already regretted agreeing. He would always regret agreeing, he suddenly realized. He would feel as if he had tortured Rosa Watts Lang with his own hands.

  “Sometimes I can feel what they feel,” Freddy said. Tiersen was looking at him sharply.

  “Define ‘sometimes,’” he said. “Do you feel their pain unwillingly, or when you concentrate on them?”

  “When I concentrate, but—”

  “Then I’d suggest you don’t concentrate.”

  “But when I bring her back…things that will kill a living person won’t kill her anymore.” Freddy faltered as Tiersen’s eyes stayed focused on him like the barrel of a gun. “This is wrong beyond what you need her for.”

  “What did you think would happen when you came here?” Tiersen asked. “She isn’t going to talk unless we torture her. We obviously wouldn’t do it just for fun.” Tiersen’s shoulders relaxed, so he looked less a brute. “Maybe we should have a drink or two first, relax a little, and we’ll talk about what we know now and what we need to know, so you can feel better about the purpose of this interrogation.”

  But the lump remained in Freddy’s stomach. “I know the purpose. Let me just see her.” He didn’t want to spend any more time with Tiersen than he must. It was useless to fight anymore. They had a corpse full of secrets on their hands, and they would wear him down. He had always known it was useless. He shut the door on his emotions as he followed Tiersen into the room.

  The woman’s corpse was slumped in a chair, her hands tied behind her, her feet bound as well, the pose already suggesting that she would live again, and she would talk. She was small and athletically built, with dark, messy hair and a strong brow. Since her hands were bound, he touched her chin to bring her back.

  Her eyes opened and rolled up to look at him groggily, and then struggled against her bonds with sudden panic. Freddy stepped back, turning his gaze to the wall.

  “No!” she screamed, as she came further out of the fog. “You bastards!”

  “You will talk this time,” Tiersen said calmly. “You are no longer able to commit suicide.”

  She shut her eyes, and when she spoke again, her voice was choked with hatred. “The reviver. So it’s true.”

  Freddy moved to the door. Only the insatiable hunger that always followed using his magic kept his dinner in his stomach.

  One of the guards quietly opened the door and let him out into the hall. If he concentrated, he could still hear Tiersen’s voice in the woman’s ears. If you tell me what your king has planned, this can go easily. If you do not…you may want to consider just how much your body can endure.

  Freddy closed himself against her thoughts.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Marlis said in a low voice.

  “But I do. If they’re willing to torture a woman for information, they aren’t going to go easy on me either. It’s just that I never used to feel my magic the way I do now. I don’t feel her pain physically, but…” Freddy lifted a hand to the door. “We could go home now, and I’d still be in that room.”

  A scream ripped through him—he heard it on the other side of the door, and he felt it deep inside him. He turned his mind to steel. She works for Otto, and Otto kills magic users. She doesn’t deserve my mercy. But when it came to the moment of touching her skin, giving her life, feeling the invisible bonds between himself and her…

  A second scream tore out of her mouth, more pained than the last, and—

  He cut it off, breaking the spell so violently that it twisted him inside, and he vomited on the cold stone floor.

  The door burst open, Tiersen emerging with a brisk step and a face of stone. “We weren’t ready to let the prisoner go.”

  Marlis straightened, tilting her head slightly in a way that very much made her seem like a displeased queen regarding her subject, despite Tiersen’s height. “Mr. Tiersen, this will not work,” she said. “We can’t torture the dead. As Mr. Linden’s magic grows more powerful, he is also developing too strong of a connection with the subjects of his spells. We’ll hurt him along with them.”

  “Well—can you bring her back again and we’ll try being more…patient?”

  “No,” Marlis said. “He cannot. His magic doesn’t work that way.”

  “We need that information!” Tiersen said. “You should have told me up front not to hurt her.”

  “I did!” Freddy cried.

  “No, not explicitly. You told me not to abuse her revived state.”

  “There will be other spies,” Marlis said, “and we’re lucky to have a reviver at all. We have to be careful: If we abuse him, then what did we overthrow my father for?”

  Tiersen relented with a minuscule relaxing of his eyebrows. “Well, I hope next time w
ill prove more successful, seeing what’s at stake. You know what’s at stake, Miss Horn,” he said, and Freddy wondered if he meant King Otto or the alliance with the UWP itself.

  “I know.”

  I can’t believe I’m about to walk into Neue Adlerwald. The motorcars of King Otto’s guard had only a short distance to go, down a wide boulevard flanked by white statues, before passing through the royal gates. The palace reached out with two wings that curved around, embracing a formal garden. Although covered in snow, the shapes of fountains and hedges were apparent.

  Nan was piled in with Sigi and four men. She had no idea where they were headed exactly, but the line of cars pulled around to a side entrance and a few men dressed in long coats, tight white pants, and tall boots directed them inside with white-gloved hands.

  “Madam, this way, please.” Just inside the doors, someone pointed Nan, Sigi, and Ingrid one way while all the men were herded down the opposite corridor. The corridors were long, with high ceilings, so they seemed empty even with sixty people in them.

  “Where are we going?” Sigi asked.

  “The king wishes to outfit you for court before you enter the palace proper,” their attendant said. He was dressed very nicely, and every look he gave them showed his awareness that they were not dressed nicely at all.

  “What does that mean?” Sigi asked.

  “We are rather dirty, I suppose,” Ingrid said. “But we would like to keep it as simple as possible.”

  The attendant said nothing, merely opened a door. At first, Nan was startled to see so many people in the room, but then she realized a row of mannequins was lined up in front of the window clad in jewel-and-brocade costumes inspired by a prior age. If Nan ever had dressmaking nightmares, they might take place in a room like this—even the furniture and curtains had frills and smelled like perfume. Two old ladies with makeup caked on their faces awaited them with placid smiles.