by Scott Mebus
The man groaned, but did not answer. Caesar knelt down to stare into his eyes. “He will kill your son and your daughter, no matter what he promises. Already your wife lies at death’s door. What more can be taken from you? You started that family for a reason, did you not? To truly belong, again. And then it all went wrong. You need to make it right. You need to find your way.”
“How did you find your way?” the man asked, tears running down his cheeks.
“People say I’ve been underground so long I’ve lost myself. And they’re not too far from the truth. After I helped build the Trap, I went down deeper and deeper, running from what I’d done. And that’s when she found me. The lady we both know. She gave me a reason to climb to the surface again. A way to make my wrongs right again. She spoke to me and she spoke to Adriaen, and we gladly placed our trust in her cause. She spoke to you once, too.”
“That was a long time ago and I failed her completely,” the man said, turning away.
“Your children are traveling to see her,” Caesar said. “They don’t know it, but that’s where they’re headed. You need to be by their side when they get there. That’s the only way we can beat Kieft and return this city to the mortals who dream it. Henry, your children need you. How many times can you let them down?”
The man stared back up at him, agonizing over what to do. And Caesar waited to see if his sacrifice would not be in vain.
Rory stood in front of the pizza parlor, which had been closed up for the night. The entire street was dark at this late hour, though the streetlights still sent pools of light down to illuminate the sidewalk. Fritz had warned them that they were close to Five Points, the notorious den of thieves, which had been built over the filled-in Collect Pond. The thought of roving bands of nineteenth-century gang members didn’t help his sense of unease as he stood there, feeling naked, with only a tiny cockroach and his little sister by his side.
He resisted the urge to touch his forehead, where Soka had drawn a sigil of protection. He knew how strong she’d made it—he felt like he could run through a brick wall and not get bruised, but even though he knew this was probably the “Munsee magic” the Fortune Teller told him he had to bring with him, he couldn’t help fearing that it would not be enough.
“Now what?” Bridget asked, getting impatient. “Do we bust in? I can run right through the door . . .”
“They might have an alarm,” Rory countered, indecisive.
“I wish Soka could be here!” Bridget whined, kicking at the ground. “That lady said we needed magic and now look at us! We can’t even get through a door!”
“We can’t stand out here all day,” Fritz said by Rory’s feet, Clarence shuffling in place under him.
“Where’s your little Indian girl?” a voice sneered behind them. They spun to see Hex step out of the shadows. The fallen god had cleaned up a little since they’d seen him under City Hall, but he still looked desperate.
Fritz guided Clarence between the Hennessy kids and Hex. “Get out of here, Burr. You’re not wanted.”
“Really?” Hex shrugged with exaggerated innocence. “Bridget just said something about needing magic. Needing it. And your little magic Munsee friend is no longer among you. So I think there might be a place for me in your little expedition after all . . .”
“You’ve betrayed my trust over and over again—” Rory began, but Hex put up his hand to cut him off.
“But it’s not about you, is it?” he said. “It’s about your mother. I may have been hiding out, but I still heard things. I know your mother is deathly ill. I’m sure some of Kieft’s stolen magic can cure her. But you will never get close to it if I’m not with you. I see the sigil on your forehead. I know what it means. So you’re protected. Well, let me ask you—is there any water on this journey you’re taking? Because sigils wash off. And even if it doesn’t, even if you’re protected all the way to the end, who’s to say some other, final trick won’t be waiting for you? Kieft is the most dangerous man I’ve ever met. He’ll have provided for every possibility. What good is your protection if the very prize you seek goes up in flames? Can you keep that from happening? Because I can.”
“None of this matters,” Fritz said. “Because we can’t trust you.”
“Rory,” Hex pleaded with him. “I heard about your stunt in Queens, where you made everyone tell the truth. Do it with me.”
Rory didn’t want to, but too many of Hex’s words had hit home. What if he did need magic, more magic than Soka had given him. What if he needed Hex? He concentrated on his belly, fanning the flames as he sought the truth that no one could avoid.
“Why do you really want to come with us?” he asked, bracing for the painful truth.
“I want to see Kieft pay for all the wrong he’s done me,” Hex said promptly. “I want to steal his magic and use it against him. I won’t hurt you or your family if I can help it. I just want to take Kieft’s magic and watch him suffer as I destroy him with it. That will be my ultimate revenge.”
Rory regarded Hex, feeling sick as he realized what he had to do. Finally, he nodded. “You can come. But one wrong move and it’s over. You can’t hurt me, remember? I’m protected.”
“I know,” Hex said even as Fritz and Bridget both cried their disapproval.
“You can’t trust him!” Bridget screamed. “He’s a sleazeball!”
“This is a mistake,” Fritz told him.
“What else can we do?” Rory asked them. “We will need magic, I know it.”
“Soka’s spell—” Bridget began, but Rory cut her off.
“Is not enough. I’ll do anything to save Mom, even deal with the devil.”
“And that’s exactly what you’re doing,” Fritz said darkly. “This will backfire, I guarantee it.”
“Do you want to back out, then, Fritz?” Rory asked testily. “Because you can if you want.”
“You know I won’t,” the roach said reproachfully. “I’m in this to the end. But if you think I’m going to stand idly by and let this charlatan pull the wool over your eyes, you’re mistaken. I am watching you, Burr.”
“I’m not Aaron Burr,” Hex said. “Not anymore. All I have left is my magic. All I am now is Hex.”
“Then get us in, Hex,” Rory said. Hex walked past them, stepping up to the locked door of the pizza parlor. He did something with his hands over the door and it creaked open. Hex turned to them.
“Good?”
“Good,” Rory replied, and walked into the pizza place. He knew Bridget and Fritz were exchanging looks behind his back, but he didn’t care. A bargain with the devil was the least of his worries right now.
They made their way into the basement, where they figured the cave would be. Pizza boxes and crates of flour and tomato sauce lined the walls, while a cooler in the back held big containers of cheese. At first Rory couldn’t find any sign of the cave, but then he noticed the back wall.
The bricks there were discolored, as if something damp was behind them. Rory poked at them. “These are loose!” he called back behind him. “We need a crowbar.” “Out of the way!”
He moved just as Bridget came flying past him, running full force into the wall. Rory had to cover his head as bricks went flying everywhere, and dust rose up to obscure the wall. He and Hex stepped forward, waving the dust away to reveal a huge hole in the wall. Bridget lay on the ground on the other side, covered in broken bricks.
“Thanks, Bridge,” Rory said drily as he helped her up.
“It was fun!” she answered brightly, hopping to her feet.
“I think this is it, all right,” Fritz said, riding halfway down the tunnel they’d uncovered. They followed him into the rough-hewn passage, lighting a torch Rory had brought along. Hex snapped his fingers, and a soft glowing orb appeared by his head to light his way.
“Show-off,” Bridget muttered. The rough stone walls of the passage dripped with greenish water, leading down to dark moss which lined the floor.
“We’re close to th
e water table,” Hex said. “They could fill in the pond, but they couldn’t keep out the water which fed it. Come on.”
He walked on through the dark tunnel. Fritz rode up to keep pace with the fallen god, unwilling to let him out of his sight. Bridget gave Rory a look.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, bro,” she said. Rory didn’t reply as they moved deeper into the tunnel.
22
THE FORGOTTEN STATION
Nicholas watched the beat-up and dispirited army march through the park, still recovering from the near debacle at the smallpox hospital. Teddy Roosevelt and the council had agreed that Kieft was most likely coming for the Munsees, so they were heading to the center of the park to the most easily defensible spot—Belvedere Castle.
The castle loomed before them as they crossed the Great Lawn. Built to resemble something from a fairy tale, Belvedere Castle housed a bird museum and the weather station for New York City. It was never meant to be a real stronghold. But it was built on a hill overlooking the wide expanse of the Great Lawn, with Turtle Pond right beneath serving as a moat. The castle was the only structure in the park from which they could realistically defend themselves against Kieft, so that was where they would gather.
A somber Buckongahelas waited for them on the ramparts, his wife, Abigail, by his side. Wampage stood nearby with a Munsee named Chogan. At the sight of Chogan, Soka, who’d accompanied them, ran to him, sobbing in his arms.
“It’s all right,” Chogan consoled her. “She would have wanted you to be strong.”
“Kieft is coming,” Buckongahelas told them after their greetings. “We have heard from the forts up north that they’ve seen people moving through the trees. We are ready to fight. Are you?” He glanced out at the army from Mannahatta, which did not look impressive.
“They’re just a little banged up,” Teddy Roosevelt assured him. “I’ve been bucking up their spirits on the way here. They’ll be fine!”
“If you say so,” Abigail Hamilton said, though she looked dubious. Her father did not look hopeful, either. In fact, none of the council members, save Teddy, seemed convinced of their army’s readiness.
“All we ask is that you fight with us,” Buckongahelas said. “As hard as we will fight with you.”
“Nicholas, may I speak with you?” Peter Stuyvesant asked, pulling his son aside. “Nicholas, you have to do something.”
“Me?” Nicholas pulled back in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Alexa told me how you’ve been searching for the right leader to inspire us, and how you thought Teddy was that man. Well, he isn’t. The troops hear him talk about glory and bull like that and they fear he doesn’t value their lives. And though it pains me to say it, I’m not the answer, either. I’m too dour. Hamilton is too divisive. No, there’s only one person they all respect. You.”
“What are you talking about?” Nicholas asked.
“You recruited most of them,” his father told him. “They saw someone who wasn’t a god, who could never be a god, ready to die for his city, and that awakened something in them. Some pride, maybe. A sense of being a part of something bigger. Youare the leader you’ve been looking for. Now go talk to your men. They need you.”
Peter patted Nicholas on the shoulder, then pulled him into an embrace. Holding back tears, Nicholas nodded. “I’ll try.”
He climbed the ramparts, overlooking his army. The council members and the Munsee elders stopped talking as he began to speak.
“I am not a god,” he said. This caught the army’s attention and they stared back at him intently. “I will never be a god. And I don’t care. Some of you are gods, some aren’t. Some of you are immortal, some aren’t. But we are all a part of this city. We watch over it and keep it safe. That is why we are here. Kieft wants to kill this city. He is a murderer. He may promise riches and power and divinity, but all he delivers is death. And we are all that stands in the way of that death. And he knows that and he is afraid. That is why he tried to trick us at the smallpox hospital, to lure us into a trap. Because he is afraid of us. Because we belong here, and he doesn’t. We are a part of this city, and he isn’t. This city created us and loves us and needs us, not him. And when he comes here with his knives, the city will reject him. I know you’re hurt and tired, but every stone, every blade of grass, every slab of concrete, every shining building in the distance wants us to win! Everything is with us! Can’t you feel that?” The soldiers began to nod, standing up and clapping their hands. “Can’t you feel how right we are? How wrong he is? He wants to tear down our home. And we are not going to let him! Who’s with me?” Cheers erupted in the crowd. “I said, who’s with me!” Louder cheers as the Munsees joined in. Soon everyone was stamping their feet. Glancing over, Nicholas spied the council members nodding, and even Roosevelt had a smile on his face.
“Nice speech,” Alexa said, patting his arm. “I hope you’re right.” Nicholas smiled wanly as he looked out across the cheering crowd. He’d better be right. Or they were all going to regret it.
It didn’t take long for Rory’s small party to reach the dead end. As described in Adriaen’s journal, a strange symbol sat in the middle of the wall. To Rory it looked like some kind of lizard. Hex did not hesitate; he walked right up to the sigil and put his hand on it, mumbling. After a moment a rumbling began to echo down the tunnel. Stones began to fall from the ceiling, and Rory belatedly remembered what happened next.
“Fall back!” Fritz cried at him, and Rory immediately turned and ran down the tunnel, away from the falling stones. The entire world seemed to shake as he fell to the ground, covering his head with his hands. Thankfully, nothing landed on his skull, and when the shaking stopped, he pushed himself to his feet and ran back down the hall to see if everyone was all right.
The wall had opened up, and the tunnel continued on the other side. Bridget was pushing herself out from under a mound of rocks, while Fritz rode Clarence out from behind a small outcropping. Hex had already started walking down the tunnel, and he turned back with an impatient look on his face.
“Come on,” he called. A sly smile spread across his face. “Told you you needed me.”
“You almost killed us!” Fritz scolded him, riding up to his feet. “Next time you want to do some hocus-pocus, give us a warning!”
“You got it, boss,” Hex told Fritz, smirking. Rory didn’t like the magician’s attitude one bit—but he also didn’t know how else he’d have opened that wall. He helped Bridget, who looked no worse for the wear, to her feet and followed Hex down into the new tunnel. He heard Bridget muttering behind him.
“Didn’t need no stupid magic. I could have run through that wall, too. Stupid Hex and his stupid magic.”
Rory smiled and walked on.
This tunnel felt older, with strange scribbles on the walls. Hex touched one, before pulling back with a hiss.
“Don’t go near these,” he warned. “They’re older than the Munsees, I’ll tell you that much. Much older. But they still hold a great deal of power.”
Rory stayed to the middle of the tunnel, eyeing the strange markings warily. They looked like nothing he’d ever seen before—not pictures, not words, nothing. He was so busy studying them he tripped over something. Lighting the ground with his torch, he spied something white lying under his feet. He kicked at it, then backed away—it was an old, human bone.
“What is this place?” he asked out loud.
“Somewhere you don’t linger,” Hex replied, walking faster. Rory, Bridget, and Fritz followed, moving as quickly as possible.
After a while, something strange began to happen. It started as strange sounds seemingly drifting in from the other side of the tunnel wall. Rory thought he heard someone crying, and someone else laughing uproariously. What was on the other side of the wall? Then he remembered Adriaen mentioning something similar in his journal. He’d simply walked past these sounds without incident—there was no need to worry. But then Rory saw something Adriaen never mentioned,
something horrifying.
Three bodyless heads of ancient women were floating down the tunnel toward him. Their faces were ruined—Rory could see bone through their skin, their stringy hair fell out in clumps as they floated, and their eyes were bloodred. He froze, praying the heads wouldn’t see him.
“Why did you stop?” Bridget asked at his side, worried.
“Can’t you see them?” Rory whispered, avoiding the women’s gazes.
“See what?” Bridget asked. Her voice seemed to grab the women’s attention—their eyes swiveled in their sockets to fix on Rory, and their thin, cracked lips split into evil smiles.
“Yum!” one of them muttered, smacking her lips. Rory stumbled back as the heads made a beeline for him, mouths opening with hunger. He tripped over his own feet, falling to the ground as the heads dove toward him, ready to eat . . .
“Rory, what’s wrong!” Bridget was crying, shaking him. The heads filled his vision—he could smell the rot on their breath and see their yellow, jagged teeth.
“Close your eyes!” Hex’s voice commanded, and Rory was glad to comply. The last thing he wanted to do was watch himself get eaten. He curled up, eyes jammed shut, waiting for the pain to begin. But it never did.