“So what’s the plan?” I asked Poe as we picked our way through the puddle-riddled streets.
“I don’t have one. I thought we’d go up to the apartment and knock, see what happens.”
“Sounds brilliant.” I rolled my eyes.
“That I am.” We turned the corner. Jenny’s building was a grungy, graffiti-sprayed five-story job with a bodega on the first floor. Whatever gentrification may have swept through the Lower East Side recently had skipped this particular spot, which didn’t mean Jenny had acquired it any more cheaply. I wonder if her parents, or even her ersatz boyfriend (you know, the one nursing his glass jaw) knew about her little hideaway. According to Poe, his club hadn’t been aware of Jenny’s apartment during their deliberation process, so it must be a relatively recent development.
We entered the vestibule and buzzed Jenny’s apartment, but there was no answer. There was no name on the tiny mailbox slot, either. With nothing to lose, I pressed the other buttons. After a second, there came a muffled response.
“Delivery,” I said, and the door buzzed open. I smiled at Poe. “You aren’t the only one with little tricks up your sleeve.”
A middle-aged man in a work shirt streaked with grease stuck his head over the banister. “Mind telling me what you want?” he said, lumbering down the steps and wiping off his hands with a towel. “You don’t look like you got a package.”
“Are you the super here?” I asked. “We’re looking for the resident of 4A. Ada Lovelace?”
“Never met her.” He shrugged. “She leased the place a couple months ago, when the new owner took over. But I don’t think she’s here much.”
“Do you know if she’s been in this weekend?”
“Look, girly, why don’t you and your boyfriend—”
“We’re not trying to start a fight,” said Poe, stepping forward. “We merely wanted to leave this note for her.” He held out a small card emblazoned with the Rose & Grave seal.
The man’s eyes went wide, and he looked at us each in turn. “Who are you guys?”
“Who do you think we are?”
“Couple of punks.” The super nodded at the card. “You’re the second crew to come in here waving that symbol around like I should care. What are you, a gang?”
“You don’t know what this symbol means?” asked Poe, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice.
The guy shrugged. “Some Da Vinci Code crapola. I don’t give a shit. Now, why don’t you get out of here before I throw you out.”
Back on the street, Poe kicked at the cornerstone. “I don’t get it. The D-bomb usually works like a charm.”
“Maybe in New Haven,” I said. “And D-bomb?”
“Drop the Digger name into a conversation and see how quickly your way is smoothed for you,” Poe said.
“Isn’t that against the secrecy policy?”
Poe lifted his shoulders. “What’s the point of power if you can’t use it every once in a while? The policy of the society is to fly under the radar, it’s true, but they do occasionally throw their weight around.”
“You mean like last spring when they made us lose all our internships?” I looked back at the building. “Well, we don’t seem to have much influence here. Plus, I’m about to freeze or fall asleep standing up—possibly both. So let’s continue this conversation in the nearest coffee shop, okay?”
Poe sighed. “Fine. Let me run around the corner real quick and see what the fire-escape situation looks like. If I can get up there—”
“Whatever, Spider-Man.” But I couldn’t help smiling.
“I have some skills you aren’t aware of, Miss Haskel. Anyway, if I can’t jimmy the window, I can at least peep inside.”
“And get yourself shot and/or arrested?”
“Just let me look. I’ll be back in two seconds. Don’t drown while I’m gone, okay?” He winked and took off.
I ducked under the bodega’s canopy and rubbed my arms through my coat. I should have brought gloves. I should be in bed right now, curled up with the fall issue of the Lit Mag. Damn Jenny. Okay, that was it. I needed coffee now. I went inside the shop. Ghost town, like the rest of the street on this ugly day. The guy behind the counter was watching daytime television, and there was a young truant in a black wind-breaker shoplifting candy in the corner. “Small coffee, please,” I said to the attendant. “Actually, make it two.”
The guy nodded and went to pour the cups. He looked over at the boy. “Buddy, gonna buy something?”
The boy picked up two PowerBars. “Yeah,” he mumbled.
But it was enough. I turned my head toward the kid with the familiar voice, who looked up, facing me fully. “Oh my God…”
“So,” Jenny said, “you found me.”
I hereby confess:
I’m not proud of myself.
16.
D-Bomb
“Where the hell have you been!” I cried.
“Amy—”
“What the hell happened to you!”
“Please, just calm—”
“I thought they fucking kidnapped you, do you know that?”
“I know,” she said, and her eyes went from me to the attendant, to the door.
“How do you know? What the hell, Jenny? What were you thinking? Your hair was left on our stoop!”
“I wasn’t…just—I wasn’t, okay?” She lifted her hands. “Who is that with you?” she asked. “Poe?”
“You know what?” I said, walking toward her and stabbing my finger at her raincoat. “I’m not even going to say you’re fined for that. You’re a traitor!” Now that I saw she was safe (though shorn), all of my inner rage decided to have a coming-out party. “How could you? You manipulative, lying, oath-breaking bitch! How could you!”
“Whoa,” said the guy behind the counter. “You’re a chick! Weird. Wait, is this some kind of butch lesbian thing?”
“Amy, wait a second!” Jenny grabbed my hands in both of hers. “I’m—” She took a deep breath. “I’m really scared. And I want to talk to you, but…” She looked out the window. “Not with him there, okay? I can’t stand that guy.”
“Well, he can’t stand you, either,” I snapped. “And though I may have been on your side about that a few days ago, now I think I’m on his.”
“Amy.” She squeezed my hands. “Please. Help. Me.”
Jenny may not pay attention to her oaths, but I still did. Okay, so I sucked at secrecy. So I didn’t always completely trust or love my brethren. I was still there to help them out when they needed me.
And this chick needed me.
“Jenny, what am I supposed to say? That you’ll talk, but only to me? That’s a little NYPD Blue, don’t you think?”
“No, you can’t tell him I’m here at all. Please? I don’t trust him.”
This, coming from the traitor with the secret apartment and the false name. “I don’t have a particularly high opinion of the people you do trust.”
Jenny maneuvered herself behind the Cheetos display. “Right now, there’s only one person who fits that description and she’s standing in front of me.”
“Then strike what I just said.” I looked out at the street. Poe was probably already searching for me.
“Get rid of him, okay?” She thrust a restaurant postcard at me. “Then meet me here.”
“Absolutely not!” I said. “You’ve been missing for two days and you think I’m letting you out of my sight? Forget it.”
“Amy, I swear—”
“Bullshit. I don’t believe anything you swear. Not after what you did.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I swear. I swear on the Bible.” She reached behind her neck and unclasped her crucifix and chain. “Here. This was my grandmother’s. Take it as assurance that I’ll meet you. But don’t tell Poe about me. Please. There’s a lot going on you don’t know.”
I was getting a little sick of hearing that, and also, I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t just palmed some cheap trinket.
But I’d seen Jenny wear this crucifix before. “Fine,” I said, regretting it already.
Jenny walked up to the counter, whispered a word to the still-stunned clerk, then ran out the back door.
“So, girly,” he said, pocketing a fifty, “you still want your coffees?”
Outside, I scanned the dismal streets for Poe while balancing two paper cups and an umbrella handle and brainstorming ways to, as Jenny said, “get rid of him.” We’d been working together so well, too. I was still trying to figure it out when Poe rounded the corner, saw me, and came splashing up.
“Where have you been!” he said with a scowl. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
“Everywhere but in the store you left me in front of?”
He put his hands on my shoulders. “You have no idea what I thought.”
“I have a pretty good idea, actually,” I replied, shaking him off. I handed him his cup. “I’m the big conspiracy theorist in the group, remember?”
“Can you just lay off the backtalk for two minutes? I wanted to show you something. I think we can get in through—”
But I’d stopped listening. “Backtalk?” I repeated, imbuing the word with as much venom as possible. “Backtalk? Who do you think you are, my great-aunt Amelia, wielding her wooden spoon?”
He rolled his eyes. “Sorry. It was just an expression. I was joking.”
“Joking.” I searched the memory banks. “Since when do you have a sense of humor? I seem to recall a certain individual who tried to drown me the last time I made a joke.” Poe had been cruel to me during my initiation. Focus on that.
“Okay, now I know you’re mocking me. I said I’m sorry. Can we get on with it?”
He wasn’t going to make this easy, was he? “Not if you plan to keep patronizing me like this. I don’t even get why you’re still here, James. What’s your plan? Trying to get in good with Gehry?”
“No, not anymore. I thought we went over this. It’s Jamie, and I’m a gardener now, remember?”
“And unless you want to stay a gardener, don’t you think you’d better get out of here? Keep it up, and you won’t have any friends in politics left.”
He placed his cup on a window ledge and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Wherefore the sudden concern?”
“It’s not concern,” I replied smoothly. “It’s that pesky paranoia of mine. So here’s my theory: You say you want to help. You feed me nice little bits of information, and then you make sure you tag along every step of the way. You’re not here to help me. You’re helping them. What better way to get back in their good graces?”
“Are you insane?”
Yes. “You knew I would track her down eventually, and you made sure you’d be right beside me.”
“You are insane. Amy, you couldn’t track a train by yourself.” That’s right, Poe. Make it easy. My eyes began to burn. “And in case you haven’t noticed, we haven’t exactly found her, either.” Ah, Poe, how little you understand. “Is this how you get when you haven’t had your nap?”
“Right. My nap. Always good to have the condescension as well as the misogyny in your arsenal, isn’t it?”
Oops, maybe a tad too far. Poe reeled back as if struck. He stood there for a moment, in the rain, blinking at me. Then he raised his hands in surrender. “I fucking don’t get you women.”
Enter Misogyny. Or, at the very least, chauvinism.
He looked at Jenny’s building, then shook his head. “This was a dead end anyway. I’m out of here. See you around, Amy.” He turned and walked off.
I stood there until my coffee got cold.
Jenny was seated in a tall-backed booth when I arrived at the near-empty restaurant. I stashed my dripping umbrella, wondered briefly what had happened to Poe’s, and slid into the seat across from her.
“Where is he?” she asked.
“I pissed him off and he ditched me.” I dropped her necklace on the table and waved to the waitress. “Double cappuccino?”
Jenny slid the menu at me. “Are you hungry?”
“Mostly for information. Now, tell me what happened before I’m tempted to commit assault with the pepper shaker.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “Where do I start?”
“Anywhere. Your involvement with the website. Your disappearance. Your alias. Your fake apartment. How about explaining why the hell thirteen inches of your hair are sitting in the Grand Library right now?”
“I screwed up.”
“I know that part. Tell me how. And start with whether or not anyone has been hurting you.”
She worried her bottom lip, and her eyes grew glassy. “Not as much as I’ve been hurting myself. The Diggers are all bark and no bite, you know.”
“Tell that to the man who broke into my room yesterday,” I snapped.
“Someone broke into your room?” she asked.
“Yes. And yours.” I was losing my patience. Where was that cappuccino? “Now, what happened? Begin with the part where you betrayed us, and then I’ll see if I’m interested in sticking around for the rest.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay. When I joined, I didn’t know what to expect. I mean, I was told Rose & Grave worshipped the devil.”
“Then why did you join?”
“I was a sleeper agent,” she said matter-of-factly as the waitress arrived. The woman gave Jenny a skeptical glance, set down a cup of cappuccino, a milkshake, and an omelette with French fries and departed. “It was Micah’s idea. When the Diggers started grooming me, we thought it was the perfect chance.” She waved in the air with her fork. “To…get them.”
“What went wrong?”
She dug into her food. “To start with, you did. And the other girls. You were really nice to me and I was kind of into the whole battle—you know, down with the entrenched patriarchy and all that stuff Demetria says. It made the society seem really human to me. Before I was in there, I pretty much thought it was all blood rituals.”
“Like the initiation?” Mmmm…cappuccino.
Jenny snorted. “I thought the initiation was going to be much worse than it was.”
Clearly, no one had threatened to force her into sexual slavery.
“I thought it would be real blood, for starters. And Persephone? Please.”
I put my cup down. “You were prepared to drink real blood?”
“Gross, right?” Jenny slurped from her milkshake. “But it was for the cause.”
“I’m trying to think of a cause that would tempt me to drink blood.”
“Jesus died for my sins. I think the least I could do in return is drink something nasty. But I felt like I was being mocked with that initiation. So close, and yet so far from any real heresy. And definitely from any real evil. It was like walking through a haunted house at a carnival. I don’t think anyone was taking the Persephone stuff seriously.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in haunted-house rides.”
“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been on them. I don’t want them banned or anything. It’s just silliness.” She thought about it for a moment. “It’s very complicated, what I believe. I mean, when I was younger, my parents loved Halloween and stuff. My mom, she’s Filipino, and my dad is Puerto Rican. They both have a lot of traditions that go back to superstitions, and I remember them being really fun. I even carved pumpkins and stuff at the church I went to growing up.”
“When did it change?”
“I’ve been kind of moving away from my parents’ beliefs—and from Catholicism in general—ever since I came to school. Micah says—” She broke off. “The point is, Rose & Grave wasn’t what I thought it would be, so as it turned out, there weren’t really any covens to destroy, you know?” She caught me eyeing her plate. “Want some?”
It did smell divine. I picked up a fork. “So you went Stockholm. Bet your boyfriend wasn’t happy about that, huh?”
Jenny’s expression turned grim. “Not exactly. I still thought you guys were evil. I decided I hadn�
�t looked far enough. Like maybe they were saving the real stuff for later, after they thought they could trust us. I kept searching.”
I clenched my jaw. “And then? When did you decide you hated us?”
“I didn’t!”
“You acted like it.” I glared at her. “You told your boyfriend about stuff we said at the meetings. You told him about my C.B. Don’t deny it!”
“I won’t,” Jenny said softly. “I’m sorry.”
I wiped at my suddenly misty eyes. “Why? What could my sexual history possibly have had to do with devil worship!”
“Micah was…impatient.” Jenny scratched at the back of her neck, as if looking for her braid, for something to do with her hands. “He wanted to know more. He wanted to understand what I saw in you guys.”
“And did he?” I fought to keep from shouting. “Did he understand?”
“No. And the more we talked about it, the less I understood, too. I think that’s the real reason we’re supposed to keep it all a secret. It doesn’t translate well to barbarians.” She laughed mirthlessly. “If Micah ever heard me refer to him as a barbarian…”
I could just imagine how he’d react. I rubbed my cheek. “And then?”
“I’m not like the rest of you, that’s for sure. I could see that once the C.B.s started. I was so afraid of doing mine—or not doing it, as the case would have been.”
“None of us are like the rest of us,” I said. “That’s pretty much the point.” Still, I’d been nervous as well, so it wasn’t as if I could blame her.
“I started thinking maybe Micah was right.” She dropped her chin. “I hated being there. Not you, but being there, because I wanted to like you guys, and I wanted to be like you guys, but I knew it was wrong.”
“To like us or to be like us?” I shook my head. “No one’s asking you to change who you are, Jenny.”
Under the Rose Page 21