Gods of Manhattan

by Scott Mebus

  Hex fell back against his desk, devastated.

  “My son. How could you do this?”

  A loud crash sounded as the first Broker pounded on the door. Hex turned to look out the back window.

  “We’re surrounded!”

  Rory could see the spiked green heads outside. Seeing that Hex was distracted, he made a move toward Bridget’s body. Before he could get to her, he was pulled back. Hex had him by the belt. Alexa grappled with Hex from behind, trying to pull him off Rory.

  “Forget about me. Grab Bridget’s body!” Rory shouted.

  Alexa turned to do just that when the door to the front office flew open and a green hand shot through, clamping onto her shoulder. One swift movement and she was gone, pulled through the doorway like she weighed nothing at all. Rory struggled to free himself of Hex, but the magician clutched at his belt, trying to remove it.

  “Let me go!”

  “Give me the belt!” Hex shouted.

  “Take it!” Rory tried to untie it, but he couldn’t get the knot undone. Hex looked around wildly.

  “They’re everywhere!” he cried. “I won’t let them take me!”

  Green hands burst through the windows, sending glass flying into the air. Hex let go of Rory and leaped for the picture of the belt hanging on the wall. Freed, Rory scrambled toward Bridget’s body, which waited for him on the cot. Hex reached the child’s drawing and pushed the center of it with his palm as more Brokers burst into the room. Suddenly, the entire building began to shake. Plaster fell down from the ceiling as if an earthquake had hit them.

  Rory yelled back to Hex, “What did you do?”

  Hex grinned wildly.

  “They won’t get me! I can wait for another you!”

  And the building began to collapse on top of them, six floors falling down onto their heads. Rory threw himself over his sister’s body, covering her with his own. Then the air filled with falling wood and brick, sending Rory into darkness as the dying building landed on top of them.

  27

  UNDER RAISIN STREET

  Nicholas led the Rattle Watch up to the dark building overlooking the river on South Street. The mortals passed by unseeing, heading to the South Street Seaport next door with its replicas of three-masted ships and fast-food courts, but the Fulton Fish Market itself was empty and silent. The actual fish market had closed for good, moving off the island a few years back and leaving behind only a hollowed-out shell and a faded sign. But Fulton’s had been there so long that here in Mannahatta, the fish market continued, the spirits of hundreds of workers who’d hauled fish through its doors carrying on as if death had never taken them. Most of the building was open to the street, with tall, wide entranceways for the trucks to back up to and unload the day’s catch, but metal screens covered the openings, locking out the curious. The place was quiet; the morning’s work had long since been completed, and the spirits had disappeared until the next dawn. As far as Nicholas could see, the inside was deserted, the long troughs that were usually filled with ghostly iced fish, dry and bare. He gathered the watch behind one of the stone pillars that held up FDR Drive, rumbling above them. The whole area was cast in shadow.

  “Are you sure about this, Simon?” he asked. “The place looks empty.”

  “I wasn’t the only one there,” Simon answered peevishly. “Lincoln heard what I heard. The assassin’s supposed to wait for the Dead Rabbits in the back.”

  “There’s only one door I can see,” Lincoln said. “Over there on the side. We can go in through there.”

  “I don’t like the idea of us just walking in there,” Albert said, worry plain on his face. “Let me take a quick look, just to see. I’ll be careful.”

  Nicholas didn’t want to take the risk, but he saw the wisdom. He nodded, and Albert crept away toward the side of the building and peered through the metal grate. After a moment, he came back shaking his head.

  “I don’t see anything, though there is an office at the back,” he said. “I still don’t like it, Nicholas.”

  “I think we just got lucky, Al,” Simon said, clapping Albert on the back. Albert ignored him, waiting for an answer from his leader. Nicholas stared silently at the market, lost in thought. Finally, he took a deep breath and turned to his Rattle Watch.

  “We’re going in. Let’s catch us an assassin.”

  He began to lay out a plan, his murmurs barely carrying to the building across from him. But it didn’t matter, since the fifty or so Dead Rabbits hiding in the troughs under false bottoms knew they were coming. All they had to do was wait for the door to open and they would pounce, ending the Rattle Watch once and for all.

  “Wake up, kid. Sleepy time’s over.”

  Rory groaned as he came to. His body hurt all over. He forced his eyes open to see a smiling face inches from his own. He quickly scrambled away, slamming into some rocks behind him.

  “You!” he cried.

  It was the doo-wop singer from the subway. He still wore his fedora; it rested on top of his head at a jaunty angle. He smiled his wide, toothy grin.

  “Hello there, Rory,” he said. “How’re you feelin’?”

  Rory stood up slowly, rubbing his aching forehead. Remembering the last few minutes, he quickly cast about for his sister’s body. He was in a small cave created by the broken pieces of the building that had just fallen on top of him. The light came from a small lantern in the corner, and the shadows made it hard to see if his sister was in here with him.

  “She’s right over here,” the doo-wop singer said genially, pointing to a dark body in the corner. “Right as rain. Or she will be, at any rate.”

  Rory ran up to Bridget’s body, noting her rising chest and red cheeks. Falling to his sister’s side, he felt like crying.

  “What happened?”

  “Your magician friend pulled the whole darn buildin’ down on your poor heads, that’s what. Near killed you, which was his intent. Always was a spiteful fellow. But he didn’t reckon on me. No one seems to. I don’t know whether to be glad or sore over that.”

  Rory took a closer look at his companion.

  “Who are you?”

  The doo-wop singer tipped his cap.

  “Caesar Prince. Good to meet you.”

  It was his eyes that caught Rory then. Those deep, dark eyes that seemed to suck him in. He let out a gasp.

  “You’re a god!”

  “You betcha!” Prince performed a little bow. “God of Under the Streets. I been around a long time, boy, almost as long as our friend Kieft. He thinks I’m crazy, and I am, I guess, but crazy like a fox!”

  “You’re on our side?”

  Prince laughed.

  “More like you’re on my side, boy. Adriaen and I, we’d been working together for a long time. But I’m more like a…a silent partner. I’ve been watching you for years and years, we both were. You were our little ace in the hole. Still are. That damned magician tried to use you, but I ended up using him.”

  “What do you mean?” Rory was lost.

  “Let’s just say we needed you and that belt to come together, and there was only one way to do it. We nudged the magician your way, and everything was going great. But then poor Adriaen met his maker, and, well, I knew it was time to disappear. Kieft was startin’ to suspect, and I didn’t want to shake hands with that knife o’ his. But I was watching all along, making sure things followed the plan, which they did, thankfully. When you went into that bank, I made sure your sister followed you, made her lucky enough.”

  “Lucky enough?” Rory said, disbelieving. “She was shot! How lucky was that?”

  “Lucky enough,” Prince repeated. “Ain’t always nice, doing what needs to be done. The magician would’ve had you, if not for Bridget. It’s a delicate balance, so delicate it makes my head hurt. We needed the belt, but you couldn’t turn the key. So I made her lucky.”

  “So the whole time, Nicholas and Fritz and all of them knew about this!”

  “I should hope not,” Pri
nce said. “They don’t even know for sure I’m on their side. That’s me and Adriaen’s secret, and now it’s gonna be your and my secret. Kieft is more powerful than he ever was, and it’s too soon to stick my head out into the light. Stick it out now, it’ll be chopped off at the neck. But down here in the dark…down here I can make things happen.”

  “Awful things!” Rory was horrified. “You used me! You used us all!”

  “I’m sorry for that, Rory, I truly am. But time is runnin’ out. You got your sister’s body right over there, and soon she’ll have her soul right back where it belongs. It ain’t the easiest road, but it had to be walked. Right now, we got more important things to worry ’bout. I know you don’t want to trust me, got no reason to, but you’re gonna have to. See, this is the one thing I had to leave to chance. I knew we’d get here, one way or the other, but now that I need you the most, I don’t know what’ll happen. It’s up to you.”

  “Need me for what? I’m stuck in some dark hole underground. What can I do?”

  “The belt, Rory.” Caesar Prince pointed a long finger at the white belt around Rory’s waist. “It’s your birthright. It ain’t just for opening that Trap. It’s older than that, much older.”

  “What is it for?” Rory could feel something different inside him with the belt around him, but he didn’t understand it.

  “It’s the truth,” Prince said. “Just like you. And put around your waist, it brings the truth out of the shadows and into the light. Did you know that all the sachems of the ancient Munsees were Lights? Just like you. It’s a Munsee ability. So somewhere in your past, you must have a Munsee ancestor or two. How about them apples, eh? The sachems would use the belt to give judgment and expose lies and search the world for the truth of things. That’s what you do, Rory. You expose the lies and bring the truth to light. We need the truth, Rory, or people will die.”

  “What truth?” Rory asked, confused.

  “Can you trust me?” Prince held out his hand. “I know it’s hard, but your new friends need you. All of Mannahatta needs you.”

  Rory didn’t want to do it. He wanted to dig himself out of this hole and bring his sister back to her normal body. Then he wanted to go home and sleep with the pillow over his head. But he had the chance to turn that key and he didn’t do it. Something had changed in him. He made a choice up there in Hex’s office. He chose to care about more than just his family. Just like Nicholas, he chose to make a stand. And he couldn’t put the pillow over his head, not anymore. He reached out and took Prince’s hand.

  “I don’t trust you,” he said. “But I want the truth.”

  Prince’s eyes glinted in the dark.

  “Close your eyes, Rory. Think about the truth. Think about where the truth needs to be told, and the belt will take you there.”

  Rory closed his eyes and did just that. Suddenly, there was a wrench inside him as he felt himself flung upward. Opening his eyes, he looked down with surprise to see his body slumped to the ground beneath him, still holding Prince’s hand. But Prince was staring up at him and grinning. Then Rory felt a strong wind blow him up through the rock toward the world above.

  His spirit burst into the air above Greenwich Village. He saw small figures picking through the wreckage of Hex’s building, but before he could look too closely, the wind picked up and blew him onward. He soared over the city, watching it sparkle under the afternoon sun. He flew past the buildings, often passing right through the brick, on his way to…somewhere. He approached the Brooklyn Bridge, and here he dived down, sinking through FDR Drive to the seaport below. There, he came upon a startling sight. Nicholas and the rest of the Rattle Watch were creeping up to the fish market, making their way to a small door in the side of the building. They were about to capture the assassin! But something was wrong; he could feel it. One of the Rattle Watch burned red beneath him. It made his stomach ache to look at him. Without thinking, he swooped down unseen and laid a cool hand on the head of the red man, to try to make the burning stop.

  “You’re going to die.”

  Nicholas flinched as the voice came from behind him.

  “What?” he whispered. “Keep it down!”

  “You’re all going to die, Nicholas,” the voice continued. “You’re all going to die. The Dead Rabbits will take care of most of you. But you, Nicholas. You, I have to take care of myself. That was one of the conditions when I was given the knife.”

  Nicholas turned slowly, not understanding what he was hearing. The rest of the Rattle Watch had stopped short, staring in shock at the voice in their midst.

  “What are you talking about?” Nicholas said, his face disbelieving.

  “The knife is right here in my jacket,” Albert Fish said, his wide eyes as amazed at what he was saying as the rest of them. “Once you walk through that door, it will be in your back, Nicholas Stuyvesant. It’s a small price to pay to get what I deserve.”

  “What are you saying, Albert?” Lincoln said, backing away. Simon, likewise, made space around the confessor.

  “You’re all going to die today,” Albert continued. “There are fifty Dead Rabbits on the other side of that door, and they’re going to kill you all.”

  Albert pulled out a knife from his jacket, and no one needed to be told that it was the knife. It practically radiated evil. Nicholas could barely speak for shock.

  “It was you, Albert?” he forced out. “You’re the assassin? But…we’ve been friends so long. You’re a good person, Albert!”

  “I’d rather be an evil god than a good person,” Albert replied.

  “Why are you telling us this?” Lincoln asked.

  “I don’t know!” Albert shouted. “I don’t want to be telling you this. I don’t know what’s going on! You’re all supposed to be dead in a few minutes. Why am I talking?”

  “What do you mean, an evil god?” Simon asked. “You can’t be a god.”

  “Yes I can,” Albert said. “It’s the secret nobody knows. It’s all in the locket. Wear Jenny Fingers’s locket, be the Goddess of Shoplifting. Wear Hiram Greenbaum’s, be the God of Guilt. Wear them both, be more powerful than all our fathers!”

  At first Nicholas didn’t believe what he was hearing. But what if it were true…? Could they all really be gods? Any of them? Was this really possible?

  “I’ll finally be a god, Nicholas! And you’ll be nothing. Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you’re better! I’m better! Better than most of the gods, as well. And now I will be one, better than them all!”

  “No you won’t, Albert,” Nicholas said quietly. “Not now.”

  A loud clatter caused most of the watch to look toward the market, though Nicholas and Albert remained staring at each other.

  “He’s telling the truth!” Lincoln cried. “Dead Rabbits are popping up all over inside the market. They’re heading for us.”

  “The door, get the door!” Nicholas yelled.

  “I got it!” Lincoln replied, launching himself at the side door. He pushed the door shut just as the Rabbits threw themselves at the other side. It buckled but stayed closed. Other gang members tried to break through the metal gates, but they could only jab their knives and blackjacks through the spaces.

  “I can’t hold them forever!” Lincoln shouted.

  “Just hold them long enough!” Nicholas replied, finally turning a bit to see. Right as his eyes left Albert, the turncoat made his move, rushing at Nicholas with his knife raised. Nicholas caught the motion just a second too late, but he was still able to twist enough that the knife sank into his shoulder instead of his throat. He went down in a ball of pain. Albert stood over him, knife raised.

  “It’s over, Nicholas. Sorry.”

  He brought the knife down. Helplessly, Nicholas watched it head for his chest, but before it could get there, a hand flew out of nowhere to meet it. The knife passed through the hand like it was water, but the hilt jammed into the palm, trapping it an inch before the knife’s point could pierce Nicholas’s chest. Alber
t turned in confusion to see Simon standing there with the knife clear through his hand. He looked too amazed to feel the pain.

  “Simon? But you’re useless,” Albert said, shocked.

  “I’m just as surprised as you are,” Simon replied, dazed as he stared stupidly at the knife through his hand. Behind him, having found a board to jam underneath the door handle, Lincoln ran up and launched himself at Albert. He wrestled Albert to the ground and called out to Simon.

  “Give me the knife!”

  Simon held out his hand. Lincoln glanced over as he struggled with the traitor. “Could you take it out of your hand first?” he said. Simon gritted his teeth and pulled the knife out. He handed it to Lincoln, who held the knife to Albert’s throat.

  “I’m gonna feel that in the morning,” Simon said and promptly passed out.

  Albert stopped struggling as soon as he felt the cold steel against his skin. Nicholas gazed over at Simon’s limp body, his eyes dim with pain.

  “You did good, Simon.”

  “The board won’t hold long, but it should give us a head start if we leave now!” Lincoln shouted, keeping the knife at Albert’s throat. Nicholas forced himself to his feet as Simon stirred. The door behind them bulged as the Rabbits tried to force their way through.

  “You want to run?” Simon said weakly, pushing himself up. “You don’t think we can take ’em?”

  “Normally, I’d feel pretty good about three against fifty,” Lincoln said seriously, “but you two are all banged up and I’ve got to deal with the god wannabe here.”

  “I guess we’d better go then,” Nicholas whispered, still white with pain as he held his shoulder. They limped away quickly, disappearing around the corner as the Dead Rabbits hammered away at their prison door with little success. Above them, unseen by all, Rory felt the wind pick up to blow him back toward his waiting body, his purpose fulfilled.