“Excuse me! How did I mess anything up?”
He tapped her watch. “That, my dear, is a story for another day. My ten minutes are up and, frankly, I'm tired of flapping my jaw.”
As he stepped through the car, Wendy tried to grab his wrist, but he was too quick for her. “Why did you tell me all this?”
“Are you writing a book, doll? I'm done. It's late and I need to hit the road. Miles to go and all that.”
“Please. You dragged me all the way out here. Finish it.” Inspiration hit. “I mean, if you're gonna drag me out here to this passion pit just to rattle my cage, you're a real…um…hep cat?”
The greaser guffawed broadly. “Nosebleed, dear. I'm a real nosebleed,” he corrected, rolling his eyes playfully. “Fine, fine, I'll answer your questions. Let's put it this way: with Elise gone, a whole bunch of scared spirits realized that they never wanted to be forced into a situation like that again. So we waited, we watched, and we learned. We knew it was a matter of time before something happened to Miss Clever Mary and your family got wind that maybe you weren't up to snuff. So we made plans.”
“When you say ‘we’…”
“The Council. The dead. Maybe just plain old everyday Joe ghosts who're tired of being pushed around. It doesn't matter, the important part is that the dead don't want the wrong sort of Reapers in this town. Thanks to you and your mother, we know how to hurt your kind, and thanks to some truly amazing minds like Madame Ada, we've got the poison to do it.”
The greaser snapped his fingers and the Walker approached. It drew a long, thin bone dagger from its cloak and laid it in the greaser's palm.
“If you don't take care of your family,” the greaser said, handing the dagger to Wendy, “we will. What went around, comes around, you dig? This is about to be war, a war no one wants, and right now you're the only one who's got any interest in stopping it.” He patted the car door twice. “Good luck.”
Wendy's hand curled around the dagger…
…and she was in a dark room, underground, shelves piled high with shadowy objects—vases and knives, busts and books—with a cool breeze blowing around her ankles. The only light was flickering candlelight from a chandelier high above. White wax dripped down, splattering the floor, and Wendy's chest ached. Her eyes were beginning to dry out in their sockets once again.
She was still running a fever, Wendy realized. Her living body was still burning up even though she was safe within her dreams.
“Oh Winifred, back so soon? You really can't take a hint can you? Little idiot,” Emma said, suddenly shoving her from behind. Wendy staggered against the closest stack of books. They toppled to the floor with a dry whoomp, sending up a great gust of dust and debris. “I thought I told you to walk away.”
“You did,” Wendy said, turning to watch the redhead hovering just outside the range of light. Emma was dressed in a long grey robe, her feet were bare and scabbed, and her toes were covered with dirt. A red weal marred her neck in a thin line; it oozed over her collarbone and dripped bright blood down the front of the robe.
“I didn't listen,” Wendy said, frowning at the blood. What had happened there? What was going on?
“Obviously,” Emma sneered. She leaned forward, her long braid dipping down, and Wendy was tempted to grab the braid and yank Emma's face into her knee, possibly breaking that perfect nose.
“Winifred the weak,” Emma said, slowly stalking a circle around Wendy, leaning forward and back, her face drifting in and out of the shadows. “Winifred the whiny. Can't hack a binding for even a day, could you? Went running to Jane at the first sign of discomfort.”
“So I failed your frickin’ test, so sue me,” Wendy spat, turning to keep Emma in her line of sight. “It was a stupid test anyway.”
“Was it? Was it a test?” Emma's hand shot out of the darkness and Wendy batted it aside, her side yelling at the sudden movement. “Or was it a way to get rid of you?”
“You're a doctor. I'm sure you know a hundred ways to get rid of a person without anyone finding out,” Wendy retorted, troubled. The way Emma was moving was strange; after their sparring this morning, Wendy was fairly sure she had a bead on how Emma fought, which was mostly comprised of straightforward, quicksilver attacks. This slow, sinuous slide was not like Emma at all.
And…and…Wendy struggled to remember the moments before she'd woken up in the greaser's car. Hadn't she, in her delirium, called Emma on the cell?
Hadn't Emma been trying to…help her?
“Winifred, alas, you assume so many things.” Again the darting attack and again Wendy slapped the jab aside.
“Where'd you get that cloak?” Wendy asked pointedly. “You're not a cloak type last I checked.”
“Standard issue Reaper attire,” Emma retorted. “Not that you'll ever receive one.”
“If that's the usual, I think I'm good,” Wendy replied, unease twisting in her gut.
Where were Emma's tattoos? Emma had tattoos on her shins before, didn't she? She'd been sitting in the living room, settled on that long couch, and her robe had slipped open. Eddie had tried not to stare but her legs really were very nice…and there'd been Celtic swirls all up her legs.
This Emma's legs were bare. Scarred and dirty, scabbed and cut…but bare.
“You're not Emma,” Wendy said slowly. She couldn't believe that she hadn't noticed it before. “You're not Emma. And Emma never calls me Winifred. I'm always Wendy to her.”
The redhead chuckled and straightened. “Maybe you're not such a hopeless case after all.” The robe slipped off her shoulders and Wendy looked away. From the neck down she—whoever she was—was nothing more than tendon and bone, yellow and white and red, her skeleton jangling in space with Emma's face perched above.
Wendy hauled back and punched her.
The skeleton stumbled left, falling over a stack of books and bringing down another stack crashing across her head and shoulders. There was a sickening crack and Wendy, moving faster than she thought possible, was in the faux-Emma's face in an instant, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her up so sharply she groaned.
“Look, I don't care who you are, but I'm sick of these mind games,” Wendy snarled, jerking the face up and down as she spoke. “Everyone has been having a go at me today and honestly I'm just done, okay? You have something you need to say to me? Say it. Otherwise I'm going to peel this skin off your skull and wear it like a hat, you got me?”
“There!” cried the not-Emma. “There! There is your fire, your temper! There is the Reaper in you!” She sagged in Wendy's grip and chuckled. “I'd thought it gone. I'd thought you'd given up with your mother's death, but finally, there it is. And all you needed to do was nearly die to find your fire. Again.”
“My fire? What…” Wendy stilled. Her hands were glowing faintly with Light. “But…what about the binding?”
“Is still tight,” the skeleton whispered, pressing cold bone fingers to Wendy's chest. “Still close. But it's not impossible for you. You may yet slip it free. If you want.”
The skeleton leaned forward, leering, bringing with it a strong mingled smell of rich bourbon and thick decay. “Go ahead. Try it.”
“I'm so confused,” Wendy said, drawing back to keep from gagging from the stench. “Who are you really?”
“Don't you know?” the skeleton asked, reaching into Wendy's gut and grabbing her by the silver cord. “I'm you. The best you that pathetic little you could ever be.”
Wendy gagged. The feeling of her cord being yanked and twisted was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. The skeletal fingers digging in were sliding across her gut, dipping through the skin, and caressing her from the inside. Wendy wondered if the hand was poking out her back, like she was some macabre puppet.
“You're…not…me,” she hissed, grabbing the skeleton by the wrist and pushing savagely backward, unimpaling herself with a wet schloop noise.
The skeleton tilted its head. “I'm not?”
Breathing heavily, We
ndy shoved her fingers into the grinning skull's mouth and grabbed the two parts with each hand. Pulling up with her left and down with her right, she yanked as hard as she could until the skull slid apart like a zipper, the bones grinding to yellowing dust beneath the pressure of her hands and exposing the bemused woman beneath.
“Elise,” Wendy said, shaking her head. She wanted to be surprised, but after talking with the greaser she realized that she was more disappointed than startled.
“Yes,” Elise said. “And no.”
Pain shot through Wendy's side. Slowly, unbelieving, Wendy looked down. A tendril of Light receded, taking with it a thin knife that dripped essence. Wendy's essence.
The pain was tremendous. Staggering back, Wendy looked down, squinting as hard as she could, and could just barely make out that her silver cord had been jogged loose of her gut. It hung loosely at hip level like a loop of intestine.
“Why?” Wendy sobbed, gathering the ethereal loop in her palms as carefully as she could. Though the knife was no wider than a knitting needle, the hole in her gut seemed gigantic, like she could shove both her fists into it. Excruciating agony rippled through her entire body as Wendy struggled with her slippery cord and tried to press its length back into her body.
“Why?” Wendy asked again, stumbling forward and sinking to the floor of the dusty tomb. “I'm a Reaper too.”
Elise sneered as Jane stepped around Wendy; Jane's face was calm, still, nearly expressionless. “You're not a real Reaper, Winifred. Like every other member of your ridiculous little family, you're just in my way.” She snapped her fingers. “Jane. Now.”
Sliding on one foot, Jane darted forward. Her dagger swung down and Wendy flung up her forearms to block the stab, twisting at the last second. She was hoping to throw Jane over her head; instead her hand punched cleanly through the Reaper's side.
Wendy pulled back. She held a weapon in her right fist, one that hadn't been there a moment before. It was the bone dagger the greaser had given her; it had come out of his dreamscape into this dreamscape.
Unexpected hot blood gushed over her fingers and wrist, sticky and thick and nearly black in the light. Open-mouthed, Wendy dropped the dagger and scrabbled painfully backward on elbows and ass. What had she done?
“Jane,” Elise snapped sharply. “It's just a dream, girl, stop whining so! You'll hardly feel it in a moment.”
“Just tell me why,” Wendy insisted, pulling herself back across the floor. “Just…tell me why.”
“Because, as I said,” Elise coolly replied, “you are in the way.” She reached down and patted Wendy's cheek.
“It's not personal, dear. Just good business, just as it was nothing personal with your friend Edward. I needed you out of the way for a few days, but then you had to go and stick your nose in where it doesn't belong. I took your boy's soul and hid his cord, hoping that you'd run off after him the same way you did after your mother, but Emma managed to bring him home like a lost puppy and leave a note pointing you our way.”
Elise shook her head, tsking. “Such waste.” She pulled back and kicked Jane in the side that was gushing essence. “Say you're sorry for ruining my plan, dear.”
“I'm sorry, Grandmother,” Jane gasped.
“That's better.” Elise wiped her hands on her hips. “Penance is good for the soul. As is pain. Just look at Wendy here, Jane. An abomination like her is still up and running despite all the pressure we've put her through today! Remarkable. Send a bevy of Walkers after her and she manages to scare them off with threats! Tie her binding in knots and she manages to free herself enough to escape into dreams. Truly, if she weren't such an obnoxious little thing, I'd be tempted to welcome her into the family.”
“I don't understand. What am I stopping you from doing?” Wendy whispered, trying to keep from watching Jane twitch and sob on the floor.
“That is none of your business, dear.” Elise reached down and hauled Jane to her feet. “Say goodnight, Jane,” Elise ordered. “We've got much to do, and I think we've finally pinned little Miss Wendy down at last.”
Jane gave Wendy a sick smile and Wendy realized that there was something seriously wrong with the blue-haired girl. Her eyes were distant, clouded over, and her expression was drawn and far away. “Bye cuz,” Jane whispered. “Sleep tight.”
“Wait,” Wendy said, struggling to rise. Her gut twisted, the silver cord tangling around her ankle, slowing her down. By the time she'd carefully freed herself, Elise had dragged Jane into the blackness.
They were gone.
Lily and Eddie darted forward, moving in unconscious unison to reach Piotr as he fell. The snow came down in flurries now, large wet flakes that filled the vision and formed clumps and small drifts on the old, rotting floors.
Indifferent to the risk of his cold, Lily reached Piotr an instant before Eddie and caught him in her arms as he tumbled down. Teeth chattering, she laid him carefully out and then quickly stepped back, briskly rubbing her arms against his chill.
“He's fading again,” Eddie hissed. “Fast.”
“To tend to him, to avoid frostbite, I must wrap up in blankets,” Lily replied sharply. “As many as you can find. Hurry!”
Eddie loped off as Lily knelt down. The cold was so intense that she was finding it difficult to be within a foot of Piotr; she had no idea what she could do for him other than wrap him up and perhaps start a fire with Dora's drawings and the old door she'd used as a desk.
Lily was so caught up in Piotr's plight that she completely missed hearing Elle approach until her old friend was at her shoulder, kneeling down beside her.
“Care to fill me in?” Elle asked gruffly. “What in the blue blazes happened here?”
“Elle?” Lily twisted and hugged her wayward friend, stunned to see her but overwhelmingly happy that she'd finally arrived. Desperately, she squeezed tighter, not wishing to let the prickly flapper go. Eddie was good company but he couldn't handle a weapon to save his own life…or Ada's. “You were gone so long!”
“Well, yeah, it took me awhile to sniff out a Lost, and you will NOT guess where I found one. How's our flyboy doing?” Elle looked over to where Piotr sprawled on the floor and, glancing up, eyed the fat flakes drifting down. “You all have some sort of adventure while I was out and about?”
“You could say that,” Eddie said, coming down the stairs with every blanket on the thirteenth floor piled in his arms and dragging on the stairs. “I'll admit, Elle, I'm impressed. How'd you know to find us here?”
“I figured something was up when I went by Wendy's and her whole yard was trashed,” Elle explained. “This was, what, a couple hours ago? The only ones inside were her brother and sis so I thought maybe head up to the city, see if you all tried to make it to my old haunt since it's the closest completely safe zone.”
“Indeed? You traveled a great distance then,” Lily said, impressed, as always, by Elle's undying efficiency. “But made good speed.”
“I was alone for most of it,” Elle said. “Till I got to the Pier.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “That's where I found Sarah here, believe it or not. And get this; she already has the skivvy on Petey here. She was waiting for me.”
Lily blinked in surprise and glanced at the Lost hesitating in the corner of the room, her backpack at her feet and a wary expression curling her lips. The skittishness of the girl was palpable—one wrong word and the Lost would flee. By the look of her, she'd be fast and hard to catch up with too.
“You knew of our problem, young one?”
“Walker stabbed him, pretty straightforward,” Sarah said, frowning at their group. “Though if I knew I'd be laying low all day long I would've snagged another book to read. Bookstore had nothing I haven't seen twenty times.”
“Get this: Wendy met her this morning, after we'd left,” Elle whispered. “Had the kid waiting for us up at the Pier, hiding out from the Reapers. Now where is that daffy Lightbringer so I can give her a great big kiss?”
“If the L
ightbringer is not at her abode then we don't know where she is,” Lily said shortly. “She is, perhaps, gone. And Ada with her. Ada was taken by animals—gulls, to be precise.”
Elle's eyes widened. “Ada was here? Council Ada? Why?”
“As I could not locate a Lost in a timely manner, I thought that perhaps Ada might be able to help us with Piotr's difficulties. My theory was not incorrect; Ada was able to stave off the worst of his symptoms for a short time but, as you can see, it was not long enough.”
“Well Pocahontas, we got ourselves a Lost now, right?”
“You speak truly.” Lily glanced behind Elle at Sarah and smiled softly. Seeing a Lost again…it warmed her heart. She yearned to collect Sarah to her, to hug the small scrap of girl and soothe her pains, but Lily could sense by the mere set of Sarah's shoulders that a hug would not be tolerated in the least. “It was good of you to come. I am Lily. This is Eddie. We are friends of Wendy…though she did not tell us that she encountered you.”
Taking off her hat, Sarah toed the pile of wet snow at her feet and shivered. “I'm not surprised Wendy didn't speak up—before they left one of the Reapers nabbed a Shade not ten feet from where we'd been talking. She might've thought it was me.” Sarah tucked the hat under her arm and glanced up at Elle. “You didn't tell me it was gonna be snowing.”
“To be honest, short stuff, I had no clue everything was gonna get balled up while I was gone,” Elle said baldly. “I figured Pocahontas here had it all under control.”
“If you are done judging my competency,” Lily said stiffly, “perhaps Sarah might deign to look at Piotr?”
“You think you have it in you, kiddo?” Elle asked Sarah. “Or do you need a few minutes to orient yourself first?”
Sarah scowled. “Where's my salvage?”
“Healing first, then the moolah,” Elle said gently. “You can see we've got plenty, even in a dump like this. A deal's a deal, right?”
“You were talking about gulls before, right?” Sarah said, looking between Lily and Elle as she edged closer to Piotr. Eddie handed her a comforter and she wrapped it around her shoulders, shivering. Lily felt her lips quirk without guiding thought. Eddie was so considerate, it was painfully endearing.
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