by Douglas Rees
When I got to the third floor, I heard steps behind me. I turned.
It was Ileana. She was looking drop-dead gorgeous.
“Cody, please,” she said, and held up the key to Gregor’s rooms. “Gregor loaned me this. Come in here with me.” She unlocked the door.
“What for?” I said.
“I need to ask you some things,” she said.
I snapped on the lights.
“Okay. What?” I said.
“Cody, don’t you see what is happening? You have won,” Ileana said. “This place is open and people are sharing it. My mother is here, and I am here. And Captain Prentiss is here. To join you. After tonight, Crossfield will start to mean something different to New Sodom. We are grateful to you, Cody. All those Burgundians and Mercians who did not want this war. You have saved us from each other. From ourselves. This victory is ragged around the edges, but it is yours. Do you not see this?”
I wasn’t quite sure what to say. So for a while, I stood there thinking about it.
“Please, Cody,” Ileana said finally. “Say something.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think I really get you people.”
“And yet, if I were ever to do as much for my people as you have, I will be remembered as a great queen,” Ileana said.
“I’m sure you will be,” I said. “Listen, I should get back.”
“Cody, please forgive me,” Ileana said.
“Well,” I said. “Forgive you for what?”
“For … for … Damn it, Cody Elliot, you know what for, or you should.”
And she started to cry.
I put my arms around her, trying not to notice how wonderful that felt.
After she’d stopped, and blown her nose, I said, “Ileana, I don’t need to forgive you. And I don’t think you did anything that needs forgiveness. You disagreed with me, but that’s just two people disagreeing. Maybe you think you need forgiveness for breaking up with me, but I don’t. I mean, it hurt like hell. It still does. But—”
And then she kissed me.
“You were talking too much,” she said.
We just held each other for a while.
Under our feet, the music stopped playing. It wasn’t the end of a set, either. It was in the middle of a song.
“Uh-oh,” I said. “Bet I know who’s here. Excuse me.”
We went down the stairs and heard voices coming up.
“… illegal assembly … trespassing … evidence …”
When I got to the main floor, I saw five cops standing by the wigwam. They were surrounded.
“Hey, guys,” I said. “’S’up?”
“We don’t want to arrest anybody,” the first cop said. “We’re just here to break this up.”
“Break up?” I said. “We just got together.”
“Don’t get smart,” the second cop said. “We know what you’re doing here, and we don’t want a lot of trouble. We just got orders to shut this thing down like it never happened, okay?”
“But it did happen,” I said. “It is happening.”
“And it will continue to happen.” Mr. Shadwell came over, walking on his hind legs. “Officers, xhere is somexhing unique about xhis night,” he said. “A tectonic shift, if you will. Xhe very earxh is moving under our feet as we stand here. Now xhe men who give you your orders recognize xhis, but xhey don’t know what to do about it. So xhey sent you to do somexhing about it for xhem. In my opinion, xhey should never have put you in xhis position.”
“Look, Rover, nobody asked you,” the second cop said. “Back off before you get in trouble.”
“Back off from a fight for freedom of speech?” Mr. Shadwell said. “I’d sooner burn my master’s degrees.”
And he showed his fangs.
He seemed to get taller all of a sudden, or maybe the cop just looked smaller because Ms. Shadwell was standing on the other side of him now and licking her chops.
“Hold on, everybody,” I said. “How about if you guys just arrest me and let the evening go on? I’m the one who cut the yellow tape.”
“You lie!” Gregor was beside me all of a sudden. “I cut the tape. Arrest me.”
“You damn well did not,” I said.
“Actually, it was me,” Turk said, coming up on my other side. She put out her hands in front of her. “Cuff me.”
“You were not even here,” Gregor sneered. “You deserted us. You have no claim to be arrested.”
“Arrest me, then,” Mrs. Warrener said. “I have an illegal piano over there.”
“No, me!” came a voice from the back.
And then everybody started volunteering to be arrested, laughing and clapping.
“Nobody gets arrested,” the first cop said. “Those are the damned orders. We just shut this thing down, okay?”
“Not really okay. No,” Dad purred, coming forward. “And if you try, I’ll sue New Sodom for everything but the sidewalks. And believe me, I can do it.”
“Dad, you would? What about Leach, Swindol and Twist?” I said.
“We can’t lose this,” Dad said. “This has to go on.”
Everyone cheered, except Ms. Shadwell, who howled.
“We will not go gentle into that good night,” Mom said, laughing and punching Mr. Shadwell on the foreleg.
“Rrrrrrrrr,” Mr. Shadwell agreed.
“Don’t tread on me,” Pestilence shouted.
“Don’t tread on us!” Mrs. Warrener cried, and banged on her piano.
“Oh, come on, people,” the second cop said. “Give us a break.”
Ms. Shadwell howled, and everyone clapped.
“All right, then. We’re gonna call for backup,” the first cop said.
And he did.
And we all stood around talking about what a great Halloween it was turning out to be, and how there’d never been anything like it, and why hadn’t somebody started a center like this fifty years ago, and what would we do next?
And right about then, somebody standing near the entrance to the basement said, “Hey, I smell smoke.”
28
I pushed through the crowd over to the basement doorway.
Smoke was pouring out. Fierce, gray smoke, racing up to join us. And behind it I could see the flicker of orange flames.
Fire extinguishers. We didn’t have them. Hadn’t thought of them. Sprinkler system? That would have been a good idea.
“We’ve got to get everybody out,” I said, to no one and everyone.
I put my arms over my face, went down the stairs, found the door by touch, and slammed it. That might cut off the air supply, I hoped. At least it would buy a little time.
I didn’t ask myself why the door was even open.
“My art,” Turk said, and ducked back through the crowd. “Okay, everybody, we’re getting out,” she said. “Everybody grab one piece and take it with you. Save the art. Save the art.”
Some people picked things up, or yanked them off the walls. Someone even grabbed The Scream from the wigwam. But others just headed for the doors. In a few seconds, everyone was jammed together trying to get out.
“Somebody call the fire department!” I heard a voice say.
“Come on, people, calm down. Line up,” the first cop said. “Weren’t you ever in second grade? Line up.”
But people weren’t really listening. The stairs were filling up as people on the upper floors realized there was something wrong. I heard some people scream.
Justin and Gregor thought to open the windows, and people started to jump through them. Ilie and Constantin picked up Mrs. Warrener’s piano, twisted the legs off, and rescued it. Blasts of cold air came into the room, and somehow that seemed to increase the panic.
“Cody, come on,” Dad called to me. He had his arm around Mom and they were about to go out by one of the front windows.
“Right with you, Dad,” I said. Then I pushed my way to the stairs. I was going to make sure that the top two floors were clear.
But how
to get up there? People were choking the steps.
“Mosh pit!” I shouted, and jumped for their shoulders.
People yelled, and some of them cursed me, but enough of them got the idea, and I went up on their hands.
I fell onto the floor of the second story, picked myself up, and heard another thump behind me.
“Keep going, Cody,” Justin said. “I’m right behind you.”
“Check the right,” I said, and went left.
It only took a minute. No one was there except for the last people trying to get down the stairs. The dancing had drawn almost everybody down to the first floor before the fire started.
“All clear on this side,” Justin called to me.
And we went up to the third floor.
Nobody was there.
“We’re done here,” I said. “Let’s get out.”
Then I looked toward the office.
“But first we’ve got to save Gregor’s posters and stuff,” I said. “Come on.”
“We’d better go,” Justin said. “Wouldn’t be so good to get trapped up here.”
“Oh, we’ve got time,” I said. “The fire’s down in the basement, for pete’s sake.”
“Cody, this is an old building,” Justin said. “The wood’s dry as straw. Trust me, I live in an old house.”
“Five minutes,” I said, and tried the door. I guess Ileana had locked it again. “Uh-oh,” I said, and leaned on it with all my weight.
“Oh, geez,” Justin said. “Let a jenti do it.” And broke it down with one kick.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Could we hurry, at least?” he said.
“Okay, three minutes,” I said.
Down came the posters of Languedoc and the Rheinfells. Justin scooped up an armful of sheet music. I grabbed some notebooks. Everything paper we managed to rescue. But that was all we could do.
Somewhere down below, I heard a dull roaring sound. The building groaned, and the lights went out. The fire had reached the generators.
“Is it my imagination, or did things just get a lot worse?” I said.
“Unless we have the same imagination, I think we’re in trouble,” Justin said.
“You know, those windows you and Gregor opened …,” I said.
“Feeding the fire now,” Justin said.
We ran down the stairs to the second floor.
We were already too late. Justin had been right. I had bought us a few minutes, but the fire was finding its way up the chimneys and along the wooden bones of the old factory. The bottom floor wasn’t there anymore. The one we were standing on was starting to go.
We ran back up to the third floor and opened a window. It looked like a long way down.
“We’re going to have to dump the stuff, then drop,” I said.
I took off my jacket and wrapped it around everything we’d rescued. At least that would probably keep it together. Then I tossed it.
It landed too close to the building.
“Pick that up,” I shouted down, and somebody dared to come close enough to get it.
“You first,” I said to Justin.
“No, you first,” Justin said.
“You’re lighter,” I said.
“I’m stronger,” he said.
By now people were pointing up at us. I saw Mrs. Warrener down there. I heard my mother scream.
And then, hanging on the wall right beside me was a huge pair of wings and a set of sharp fangs.
“Grab on, one of you two idiots,” Gregor said.
“Go!” I said, and pushed Justin toward him.
“Get on, Warrener. You can’t argue with him. He’s more stupid than you are,” Gregor rasped.
“Good point,” I agreed.
Justin threw his arms around Gregor’s neck. They flew into an uprush of smoke and fierce hot air erupting through the windows on the second floor, and they made a crash landing a few yards from the building. Justin picked himself up, but Gregor flopped around like he’d hurt a wing.
Mr. and Ms. Shadwell were under me now, leaping up against the wall, and man, could they leap. But they still only got to five feet below me, and anyway, what could they do?
Behind me, the fire found its way up the stairs. It leapt forward like it was glad to see me.
Then someone very small and dark came arrowing to me out of the night.
“Come, my love,” she said.
I could feel her wings working as we dropped toward the ground. I held her tight, and she fought against the hot wind and gravity to set me down gently.
I held on to her until she said, “Cody, let me go. I dropped my shoes.”
I released her, and she changed back into her usual self and, shaking like a willow branch, leaned on me while she put her shoes back on.
My jenti princess.
The Daughters were close by, hanging near the Shadwells, who were still wolves. Pestilence saw me with Ileana, raised one eyebrow, and turned away.
Now Mom was hugging me, and so was Dad, and so was Turk, and we were all crying, and Gregor was standing nearby with his arm at a funny angle.
“Is it broken?” I asked when I could.
“No, just sprained my shoulder, I think,” Gregor said. “This one”—he jerked his chin at Justin—“threw me off balance.”
“Dimitru, you couldn’t fly a paper airplane across the backyard,” Justin said, and smiled.
“He couldn’t fly one across the room,” Turk said. Then she wrapped her arms around Gregor’s neck and kissed him.
“That doesn’t mean I love you,” she said.
“I do not love you, either,” Gregor said, and kissed her back. When they came up for air, he said, “If you ever go away again without telling anyone—”
“Shut up,” Turk said. “I came back. I’ve never come back before.”
And they locked together like a couple of snakes, with Gregor’s bad arm hanging off to one side.
Snakes!
“Oh, damn, Mercy’s flag,” I said.
I pulled away from Mom and Dad and, with them following, I went around to the front of the building.
The flagpole was empty. Maybe somebody had taken the flag down. Maybe the delicate old fabric had caught fire somehow and fallen into the ring of ashes that was growing around the burning arts center.
The fire engines were arriving now. They surrounded the building and started spraying the flames from all sides. The fire acted like it was startled; it seemed to duck its head.
Ms. Vukovitch said, “If this thing was set, I don’t care who did it. I will find them out, hunt them down, and drink them dry. If it was some mistake my boys and I made, I will kill myself.”
The south wall let go, burying my sad little corn patch. It was like the flames had been the only thing holding it up.
I felt a hand in mine, small and cold.
“Cody, I am so sorry for you,” Ileana said. “It was a beautiful idea.”
That was the first time it really hit me that the center was gone. It didn’t matter if the fire had been set or not. The effect was the same. New Sodom—old New Sodom—had won.
29
It snowed just before morning. A weak, cold storm that nobody had predicted blew through, leaving behind a thin crust of white. It softened every sound and made things stand out in high relief. It was very pretty. Very sad.
I hadn’t slept much. Something about nearly being fried made me feel wide awake. I couldn’t stop thinking about the center. I knew it was gone, but I had to know the details. I had to see it. Finally, at about six, I left a note for Mom and drove over to Crossfield.
I know. No license. I’d be in trouble later. I didn’t care. I had to see what was left. And after almost getting fried last night, I wasn’t too worried about getting grounded. Mom’s spiffy Honda was a lot easier to drive than Turk’s low-tech antique. And with a scrim of snow on the streets, you can bet I took it slow.
When I reached the bridge, I stopped and got out. From this dista
nce, the mill was a blackened smear against the snow. It looked like it belonged to Crossfield again. Well, it always had, really.
“Well, Mercy,” I said to the cold morning air. “We tried.”
I got back in the car and drove the rest of the way.
When I pulled up, I saw a tall old man in a black coat staring at the ruin and its necklace of yellow tape. I didn’t know who he was, but I had an idea he might be some rich jenti who hadn’t wanted the center. Maybe he was the guy who’d set the fire, or paid to have it set. Anyway, he didn’t have any business being here.
“Hey,” I said when I was close enough. “This is private property.”
The figure turned and took off his sunglasses. When I saw those big yellow eyes, I knew who it was, even though I’d only seen them once before, last spring, and that had been in the dark.
“Cody Elliot,” Dracula’s voice rumbled.
“Rest beneath the shadow of my wings,” I said.
Dracula put his glasses back on. I guessed the light was hurting his eyes. But then I realized that he was crying.
“Always you have such silly ideas,” he said. “This was a very silly idea. An arts center. To bring gadje and jenti together and do music and painting and words for the pleasure of them. In New Sodom, of all places. Very silly.”
Then he hugged me. It was like being hugged by a tree, a very big tree.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“Ileana, of course. We talk, you know. When I spoke to her and learned that you two were no longer together, I asked her why,” Dracula said. “She told me, an arts center. In Crossfield. Where our people were tortured and killed. And she was brokenhearted to lose her boy, but she was very clear. This was not something she could ever accept. But I thought, ‘What a mad idea the gadje boy has had. Mad as trying to make his own way in our very hard school. Mad as teaching jenti how to swim. Mad as showing an ancient people something they never knew they could do. Let us see if he has something else to show us that we do not know. So I told her to find out everything as it happened, and to let me know it as soon as she did. I did not tell her why.”
“Did you pay for those Dumpsters?” I asked.
“Yes. And I paid Ms. Vukovitch’s costs for her part of the work. And for a few other things,” he said. “I wanted to help more. But I controlled myself.”