Spirits in the Park

by Scott Mebus

  “Why?” Alexa asked. “Why not just run?”

  “Kieft wanted Buck dead,” Mr. Hennessy told her. “If he knew that Buck was alive somewhere, nothing would stop him from hunting the poor boy down and destroying both him and me. I had to do it.”

  “A shot in the back is a dangerous gamble,” Kidd said. “Weren’t you afraid you’d kill him?”

  “I know a good healer,” Mr. Hennessy said. “Let’s leave it at that.”

  Alexa nudged Rory and whispered, “The abbess!” into his ear. Of course, Rory thought. It all comes together.

  “But it didn’t go perfectly,” Mr. Hennessy continued. “As Buck fell, I saw Abigail standing next to Tackapausha at the edge of the park, and both of them were devastated. I’ll always remember that look on Abigial’s face. It haunts me to this day. Then the blue light flew up and they were gone. Buck and I holed up until he was healed, and then we snuck down to the dock, hopped aboard the first ship leaving port, and sailed away. We later heard that Abigail had died, which broke our hearts all over again.”

  “I sent in a squirrel, when I was on my first shore leave,” Buck said. “I didn’t want any of my people to know I was alive. I was ashamed. I could do nothing for them, so I felt it was better if they thought I was dead. The squirrel came back with news that it was true. My Olathe was dead. Once I knew that, there was no reason for me to ever step foot on the shore again.”

  “Yep, we’ve been running ever since,” Mr Hennessy said. “Keeping out of sight.”

  “Keeping out of sight?” Fritz asked. “Was that business with Tew’s Boys keeping out of sight?”

  Mr. Hennessy’s eyes went dark. “That was a mistake.” He glared at Kidd. “You’d sunk our ship, Captain. I understand your reasons, but that still left me and ten other men clinging to a couple of planks for weeks. I thought I was going to sink to the bottom of the sea. So I told the other men some things I shouldn’t have. Secrets that I certainly would never tell anyone normally, including you lot, so don’t bother to ask. I should have kept my mouth shut, just let it die with me. But I didn’t. And those secrets were far too dangerous to get out, so I had to use a bit of Munsee magic I’d picked up over the years to prevent anyone from telling any tales. This protected them as much as me, believe me. Some things we’d all be better off not knowing. I only meant for it to be a simple bind, but I’m not really much for magic and I did it all wrong. I made the spell far too strong. It weighed on their souls like anchors dragging them down. And they could never be free. I ruined the lives of ten men that day, and I will forever be ashamed of it. So much to answer for . . .”

  No one spoke as her stared off into nothing. Finally, he let out a long breath.

  “Anyway,” he said, “that’s how we ended up here. And now we’ve been found out, so I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m pretty curious, I have to admit. But for now, would you all mind giving me a moment?”

  “For what?” Fritz asked.

  Mr. Hennessy looked right at Rory.

  “I’d like to speak to my son.”

  Rory and his father stared at each other across the table. The others had left them alone, but for a while neither of them spoke. Finally, Mr. Hennessy nodded.

  “You’ve got your mother’s nose. And from what Kidd just told me about you coming after me, her stubborn refusal to quit. She could argue a point forever. Usually, I’d just give in. Easier to say ‘yes, dear’ than keep fighting.”

  Rory didn’t answer.

  “How’s Bridget?” Mr. Hennessy continued uncomfortably. “What kind of girl is she? Smart? Pretty? Quick on her feet like her old man?”

  “She’s good,” Rory said finally. “She’s all those things.”

  “I always knew she’d be like her dad. You could see it in her, even when she was a baby.”

  “What about me?” Rory asked. “What did you see in me?” Mr. Hennessy sighed.

  “I saw a lot of your mother. We should all be more like her.” He paused, steadying his breathing. Rory was shocked to realize his father was barely holding on.

  “I can’t believe it’s you,” his father said finally. “You, of all people. My son, the Light. How did you find me?”

  “The abbess told me you were sailing this way,” Rory said, his thoughts awhirl.

  “You saw Mary? I’m glad she sent you after me.”

  “She was murdered.” Rory wanted to shock his father. But Mr. Hennessy shrugged.

  “I doubt that. She’s a goddess, you know, and they aren’t easy to kill. The Goddess of Remorse. You can see why we’d be such good friends.”

  “Why did you leave?” Rory blurted out, the tears running down his face. “Why?”

  “I’m so sorry for what I did to you, to your sister, to your poor mother . . .” Mr. Hennessy wiped away a tear. “I was weak. I met your mother and I fell in love. I thought I could hide on the mainland for a while. Buck was doing fine and didn’t need me by his side every minute of every day. And I thought, if I stayed up in Inwood, the furthest corner of the island, then maybe I could live at least one lifetime in peace. But then . . . one morning, I saw him. A battle roach, waving at me from the baseboard. I recognized the markings . . . he was a M’Garoth, one of the Mayor’s own guard. I’d been discovered! I panicked, and ran for the docks, hopping on the first ship out of port. I told myself I did it for the good of my family. If Kieft discovered me with a family, he’d have killed the whole lot of you just to teach me a lesson. I couldn’t chance it. At least, with me gone . . . maybe you’d have a chance at a normal life.”

  “Normal?” Rory cried. “Normal? The only reason I’m even alive is because Wampage repressed my abilities. Mom works every moment of every day to keep food on the table—we never see her anymore. And now . . . now it feels like everyone is trying to get me.”

  “Rory, I never wanted . . .” Mr. Hennessy began, despondent, but Rory wasn’t done yet.

  “You could have protected me,” he said angrily. “Kieft has been searching for me since I was born, to kill me. You could have watched out for me instead of leaving me to face Mannahatta on my own.”

  “I’m sorry,” his father said miserably. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know . . .”

  “Would you have stayed if you did know?” Rory asked. Mr. Hennessy looked shocked at the question. Slowly, he nodded.

  “I’d like to think I would have,” he said.

  “I guess we’ll never know,” Rory answered bitterly. They lapsed into silence, neither looking at the other. What was left to say?

  Rory approached Alexa’s room, noticing that the door was ajar. He could hear her talking quietly but urgently to Simon.

  “I saw those plates, Simon. There is no way they could have survived that storm. No way. That floor should have been littered with broken china. Instead, there they all sat, a perfect set. Of good china. How do you explain that?”

  “Alexa,” Simon began, “these are just well-made plates. They’re only a notch below a Flora Danica—” He stopped himself as he realized he’d said too much.

  “Flora Danica?” Alexa cried. “How do you even know what that means? I can’t believe this. Take it off, right now!”

  “But—” Simon cut off as he noticed Rory standing in the doorway. He eagerly latched onto Rory’s presence in order to change the subject.

  “How’d it go?” he asked.

  Rory didn’t answer. He stumbled over to the bed and collapsed at its foot. Her argument put on hold, Alexa sat down next to him.

  “You did it, Rory,” she said. “Finding Buck alive changes everything. Tackapausha has to listen to his son. We’ve got a real chance to avert war.”

  “I know,” Rory said miserably. “It feels really good.” He began to cry. Simon shot Alexa a helpless look then punched Rory lightly on the arm.

  “Cheer up there, soldier!” he said with false brightness. “Welcome to the disappointing dad club! You should come to the meetings. We serve punch. Get it?”

/>   Rory only cried harder. Alexa enveloped him in her arms.

  “It’s okay, Rory. It’s okay.”

  She comforted him as Simon looked on awkwardly. After a moment the tears dried up. Now a new worry rose in his heart. What was he going to tell Bridget?

  25

  UNDER THE ANGEL

  After trekking back down the mountain, Bridget and her companions decided they needed a ride, since their little homing wampum was leading them far to the south. So they followed the trail right to Sergeant Peacock and Private Kindernook’s little fort. The two soldiers happily lent their horses to the cause against the British, with the warning that if let free, the horses would return north to their owners. Thanking them profusely, Finn and Soka climbed atop one steed, while Bridget cradled Tucket in her arms on the other. Hans had finally woken up, groggy and in pain from his injured arm, but he refused to take off his armor to look at his injuries. Bridget placed him in the saddlebag, where he lay muttering ideas for new inventions to himself to keep his mind off the pain.

  They took off, galloping away at full speed. Bridget’s horse didn’t need much guiding; it seemed happy to follow its friend. Soka held the wampum, so Bridget just concentrated on holding on to Tucket without falling off.

  They raced south, passing through the North Woods and the Ravine, outracing the coyotes that still milled about the river, finally bursting out onto the Great Lawn. They galloped past the hordes of sunbathers, scattering a flock of wild turkeys that gobbled unseen and unheard in their midst. They made their way around the Ramble along the edge of the park, and still the bead led them on, skirting the boaters’ pond and finally pulling up at a trot to Bethesda Plaza.

  “The pull is strongest right here,” Soka called, dismounting. The rest of them followed, gazing around the crowded plaza. Soka began to scan the plaza for clues of Abigail’s whereabouts; Bridget stepped forward to follow, guiding her horse, when Finn sidled up beside her.

  “You don’t like me,” he said.

  “You don’t know that!” Bridget replied, too startled by his bluntness to come up with anything better.

  “I’ve heard enough about Rory Hennessy on this trip to see where you stand. I know you think I’m trying to steal your brother’s girl. You probably think I’m some kind of rogue, with a woman at every tavern.”

  “Yeah,” Bridget agreed. “That’s pretty much it.”

  “I can’t help the way I look,” Finn said, his handsome features making a perfect pout. “I can’t help that women act the way they do around me. Most of them are just silly girls, you know. Nothing like Soka. Or you, for that matter.”

  “Hey!” Bridget exclaimed. “Watch yourself!”

  “I’m only saying that you are a strong person,” Finn said, putting his hands up with an ingratiating smile. His eyes softened. “And Soka . . . Soka is like no one I’ve ever known. Adventurous, smart, not afraid to fight for what she believes in. How can I not fall in love? I know, I know . . . according to you, she’s meant for your brother. And who knows, maybe that will all work out just the way you want it to. To hear Soka talk about him, he practically walks on water. And if that’s what she wants, then I will step aside. But I won’t give up without even trying. Surely, you can understand that.”

  He looked over at Soka, who was tugging thoughtfully on her braid as she searched around the edge of the plaza. A look of longing passed over his face and for the first time Bridget felt sorry for the guy. But then loyalty took over and she scowled.

  “I know what this is,” she informed him haughtily. “You’re trying to trick me into helping you. Well, it won’t work! We’re on different teams, mister! I’m on Team Rory and you’re on Team Pretty Boy!”

  “Well, I had to try,” Finn said, shaking his head with a rueful smile.

  “Let’s just find Abigail, and no more being tricky!” Bridget said.

  Leading the horse, she jogged over to join Soka’s search. Bridget hoped Abigail wasn’t buried under the flagstones . . . that would be a heartbreaking end. Bridget sighed. She’d thought this was supposed to be the easy part.

  She stepped back, taking in all of Bethesda Plaza. She couldn’t believe she’d just been here two days earlier—it felt like a lifetime ago that Askook had attempted to destroy her. She glanced up at the angel in the fountain—the angel still gazed mournfully at the ground, same as always.

  She froze, staring at the statue. How could she not have seen it before? It was right there in the bronze features, in front of her this whole time. Soka stepped up next to her.

  “What is it?” the Munsee girl asked. She followed Bridget’s gaze and her jaw dropped. “She looks just like—” Soka gasped. Dropping the reins, Bridget ran forward, climbing into the fountain. Soka followed, the two of them splashing as they raced toward the statue.

  “What is it?” Finn called from the edge of the fountain, where he was now holding both horses. “What did you find?”

  Bridget reached the base of the pedestal and stared upward. She pointed excitedly.

  “Look!” she cried. “In her hand! It’s a bead!”

  Sure enough, a small bronze bead lay clutched in the outstretched hand of the statue.

  “I can’t believe it,” Soka breathed.

  Bridget’s eyes shone with vindication. “Abigail is the angel in Bethesda Fountain!”

  “Mon Dieu, you’re right!” a voice said from behind them, drenched in a thick French accent. Spinning, they came face-to-face with Pierre Duchamp, limping out of the trees. “You found her!

  “Granddad!” Finn cried. “What are you doing here?”

  “I am with Penhawitz! He lies injured, just beyond the trees. He came to me soon after you left with the news that he’d picked up Abigail’s trail again. You were too far north to send word, so we decided to follow it south ourselves. Earlier today, we were waylaid by coyotes, not far from here. I came to the pond for some water, never guessing that the object of our hundred-year search waited here, hidden under our very noses!”

  “Penhawitz is injured!” Soka cried. “We must go to him.”

  “Of course,” Pierre agreed. “But first, I must know. If you found Abigail, you must have found the cave!”

  “We did, Grandfather!” Finn told him excitedly. “It was hidden behind a huge sheet of ice. We had to fight off a great bear to reach it. Both the dog and the battle roach were sorely injured.”

  “But you entered the cave?” Pierre’s eyes glinted. Bridget suddenly didn’t like the look on the old man’s face. Soka seemed to notice it as well. She warily stepped forward, feet splashing in the pool.

  “How far is my uncle?” she asked. “Are his injuries grave?”

  “He will be fine,” Pierre assured her. “What did you find? What treasure did Kieft hide away?”

  “Take me to Penhawitz.”

  “Of course. But you must tell me: what did you find?”

  “We will talk all about it once I see to my uncle,” Soka said, her face stone.

  “Why are you playing games with me?” Pierre asked, his brow furrowing in irritation. “What did you find in the cave?”

  Finn looked puzzled at Soka’s reluctance, so he jumped in. “It was amazing, Grandfather—”

  “Finn!” Soka cut him off. “Don’t say another word.”

  “Why are you acting like this?” Finn asked. “He deserves to know—”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Soka replied. “Something’s not right here.”

  “Unbelievable!” Pierre cried. He suddenly pulled out a pistol and trained it on Soka. “Is this how you want it? You are just like your uncle.”

  “Grandfather!” Finn cried, shocked. “What are you doing?”

  “I am finishing what I started a century and a half ago, boy.” Pierre waved the gun in the air. “Where is my treasure!”

  “How old is that pistol?” Soka asked calmly. “It looks more elderly than you are.” Bridget noticed that the gun in Pierre’s hand looked pitted and worn,
like an ancient relic you hang on the wall. “Can you even shoot that thing?”

  Pierre sneered and fired once in the air. The retort rang through the plaza as a huge cloud of smoke drifted from the barrel. “Old, yes. Useless, no. And if you even take one step toward me, paper girl, the next bullet goes right between Soka’s eyes.”

  “You’re a horrible man!” Bridget cried. “How could you stick Abigail in that statue for all these years?”

  “She did that herself,” Pierre said. “She had a piece of parchment in her hand when I caught up with her here, at the fountain. She warned me that she had a spell that would help her escape from me, and from everyone, until her father came to get her. Deluded girl, thinking her daddy would ever come. Before I could stop her, she read the spell off the page, and it fused her with that statue up there. I’ve often wondered if that was the escape she had in mind. I don’t think she was too familiar with that spell. I’m fairly sure she must have found it in Kieft’s cave. Part of the treasure you’re going to bring to me.”

  “Did you lie to me about everything?” Finn asked, his face ashen.

  “No, no. I guided her up that mountain, just as she asked. And we were separated by the blizzard. But I found her again, a day later, wandering down the path. She almost told me what she’d found in Kieft’s cave, but something in my eager manner must have tipped her off that I wanted the treasure for myself, because she suddenly stopped and refused to speak further. When I tried to persuade her more forcefully, she escaped me and I followed her across the park, until I caught up just in time to witness her little statue trick. I tried going back to the Great Hill, but I couldn’t find the cave. I took Penhawitz up there, hoping that his Munsee magic would lead me to the spoils. But nothing . . . until you came along.”