by Juman Malouf
Charlotte looked left and right. They were surrounded. There was nowhere to run. Sonja clung to her and whispered, “There was a note pinned to the shawl, and a heart-shaped locket.”
Charlotte tapped the locket against her chest. It might still bring them luck. “She had tried to have her own children, but she never could. It was at that moment that she knew why. She was waiting for her dear girls to be delivered to her in a milk pail.”
The Changelings were searching the walls frantically. “Has to be here somewhere,” Wolf Boy said anxiously.
Moritz rubbed some dirt off a metal switch plate on the wall. A small red button blinked faintly. The word REFUSE was printed above it.
“Found it!” declared Moritz. He pressed the button. A pair of heavy steel doors zigzagged open with a screeching groan. The boys climbed into a cramped metal box. A few leftover scraps of garbage littered the floor.
The pedal-copters entered the tunnel.
“Come on!” urged Wolf Boy.
Sonja shook her head. “We’re not refuse!”
Wolf Boy stuck his head out of the opening. “If you don’t get in here right this minute, you will be.”
Charlotte pushed Sonja inside and jumped in after her. Their bodies were squashed together like sardines. The doors slammed shut, instantly muffling the sound of the whooshing pedal-copter propellers.
It was pitch black, dead quiet, and nearly impossible to breathe.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Sonja coughed, pulling her head out of Wolf Boy’s armpit.
An alarm sounded. The box jerked forward and locked into place. Gears crunched and rolled, and they began to tip over sideways.
“What—what’s happening?” stammered Charlotte.
“Imagine it’s a roller coaster,” Moritz said cheerfully.
“I hate roller coasters!” Sonja said, starting to panic.
“Will you trust us, for once?” shouted Wolf Boy.
“Trust you? You’re the one who got us into this mess!”
The box stopped flat on its side.
The bottom swung open, and they all dropped straight down. Charlotte’s fingernails scratched across the metal as she fell, flailing her arms and legs, grabbing at anything. She tumbled for what seemed like a full minute. Suddenly, she landed hard next to Sonja and the Changelings in a pile of garbage in a gigantic, dark room. Bits of wet paper and rotten food rained down on them. They crawled out from plastic bags and slimy cartons.
Charlotte covered her mouth. The stench was unbearable. Sonja pulled an old toothbrush out of her hair. “How could you do this?” hissed Sonja. “Don’t you know this place is festering with disease?”
“I didn’t hear anyone else come up with any ideas,” Wolf Boy replied, pulling a banana peel off his shoulder.
Voices echoed off the walls. Workmen in gray jumpsuits were shoveling garbage into the backs of dump trucks to take to the Outskirts. Wolf Boy motioned for everyone to follow him, and they slid down the trash pile. He waited until the whistling workmen moved on, and dashed into a short tunnel, turned down a bright hallway, and spun through a revolving door out onto a sidewalk. They were finally outside. The flooded streets were below them. They had reached the bottom of the city.
Wolf Boy and Moritz washed their faces in the rain and wiped the grime off their fur cloaks. Sonja shook out their hair and peeled noodles and slimy wrappers off their boots. Charlotte took several gulps of air and looked up. The never-ending city was whizzing and whirling for miles above them. She thought of Jack Cross caught somewhere in the middle. She pressed her eyes shut. Maybe if she concentrated hard enough, she could send him a message:
Dear Jack Cross,
Sorry we left in such a hurry. Don’t despair. We’ll be back with your Talent. I promise.
Best regards, Charlotte
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Lower Depths
A DULL GRAY SMOG FILLED THE LOWER DEPTHS. RAIN peppered the standing water. Old houses from the original city were squeezed between the foundations of the Million-Mile-High buildings. Flickering lamps hung from rusted tracks above. This was the old city Uncle Tell must have known, thought Sonja.
The Changelings sloshed full speed through the flooded street.
“We’re close now,” Wolf Boy said over his shoulder. “Only a few blocks away. I hope Alexandria made it.”
“Won’t you slow down a little?” moaned Sonja. She was aching all over. She had had enough of garbage and factories—and Changelings, for that matter.
“We can’t,” Moritz said breathlessly. “We don’t want to run into—”
“Old friends?”
A Scrummager in a striped vest stood leaning against a broken-down pedal-car ahead of them. He flipped a coin. Another crawled out from underneath the vehicle. “Ifs it ain’ts Wolf Boy and Moritz.”
Five more dirty, skinny boys appeared out of the wreckage and ruins dressed in tattered old suits and moth-bitten hats and surrounded the Changelings. Sacks were slung over their bony shoulders.
The familiar sight comforted Sonja. She never thought Scrummagers would one day warm her heart.
“Our old compadres!” Wolf Boy said heartily. “How’s dodging these days?”
“Fair, fair,” replied the one in the vest. “Wheres you twos been?”
Moritz shrugged. “Here and there.”
“Figured yous been adopted by that Richer. Lady’s been takin’ alls sorts. Even tooks that grot-brain, Georgie.”
“That true?” asked Wolf Boy. “What’s she doing with them?”
“Dressin’ ’em in fineries. Feedin’ ’em real grub and stuff. Givin’ ’em weapons and beasts and things. Makin’ ’em real tough!”
“I’s wishin’ she’d adopts the likes of me!” chirped a muddy-faced little boy.
Sonja thought for a moment. The Scrummagers who had helped Kats von Stralen kidnap Tatty sounded exactly like the boys they were describing. That was why they had been so well dressed and clean and had bows and arrows and batons—the Contessa was adopting them to do her dirty work.
“Now listen, compadres,” interrupted Wolf Boy. “I’m afraid we’re in a bit of a hurry. How about we come see you in a couple of days and have ourselves a real Rump-Fest?”
“Yous owes us coins, compadres.”
Moritz chuckled. “We owe everyone coins.”
An angry murmur spread among the boys. Wolf Boy gave Moritz a look. Moritz nodded. Wolf Boy grabbed Sonja while Moritz snatched up Charlotte, and they all took off running. Water splashed everywhere as the Scrummagers raced after them, cursing and yelling, lugging junk-filled sacks on their backs.
“Put me down!” insisted Sonja. She hated being close to Wolf Boy. He smelled even worse than Monkey.
“Will you be quiet?” he yelled back. “Don’t you see we’re in the middle of a chase?”
The rain came down harder, and the Lower Depths darkened. They ran past a row of narrow houses. Brown smoke puffed from the chimneys, and dead flowers drooped from broken pots on the windowsills. A woman dumped a bucket of dirty dishwater out her front door.
The Changelings ducked into an alleyway and hid behind a row of overflowing trash cans. The gang of Scrummagers ran rumbling by.
Wolf Boy laughed. “They fall for it every time.” He let go of Sonja. She stumbled into a murky puddle.
“Try and be more careful!” she cried, pulling her drenched shoes out of the water.
Wolf Boy shrugged. He walked off ahead of them. Moritz gave Sonja an apologetic look and ran after Wolf Boy.
Sonja simmered, angry. She wished she could bite his nose or pinch his arms or kick him in the shins. She turned to complain to her sister.
Charlotte was standing in front of a detached house with boarded-up windows. There were posters of Kanazi Kooks plastered all over the walls. A sign on
the door read SCHOOL FOR THE GIFTED.
Charlotte swallowed. “This is where they lost their Talents.” She handed Sonja Jack Cross’ crumpled-up letter. Sonja examined the address. It matched the grimy street sign: BISHOP’S ROW. The front steps were covered in muddy paw prints, and graffiti scrawled across the door in black paint read, The King of the Kats was here.
“Do you think about playing?” Charlotte asked quietly.
Sonja held up her twitching fingers. “All the time. My fingers don’t let me forget.”
“Isn’t it funny?” said Charlotte. “I’ve always wanted to have something in common with other children, and now we do.” She smiled sadly. “Jack Cross and the others. They’ve all lost their Talents and their parents and their homes. Just like us.”
“Over here, girls!” Sonja heard Moritz yell. The Changelings were across the street at a telephone booth.
Sonja put her arm around her sister. “Remember, we’re going to help them as soon as we’ve found Tatty and our Talents.”
Charlotte nodded and leaned her head on Sonja’s arm. “Thank goodness we still have each other.” It was good to hear Charlotte say that. Sometimes Sonja worried her sister did not need her at all.
The twins stopped in front of a telephone booth attached to a rickety, old building. Filthy children lowered cans from the windows of the orphanages overhead, shouting for coins.
A beggarman crept out of his makeshift home. He opened his palms and croaked, “Something for the needy?”
Wolf Boy sighed. “Nothing changes around here.” He stepped into the telephone booth, picked up the telephone receiver, and said, “Code word: Amadeus.”
The side of the telephone booth swung open, and a small man with a pencil-thin mustache wearing a white suit and a pink bow tie appeared in the doorway. “Velcome!” he said, and ushered them inside.
They entered a dark, shabby room. Ripped oriental lanterns hung from the ceiling. Faded posters peeled off the walls. An old-fashioned song played on a scratchy record player. Sonja recognized it. Tatty had sung it to them when they were babies. Men and women reclined on dirty divans, drinking from bottles and smoking from tall, gurgling hookahs. A woman with messy hair and smudged makeup whispered to a man wearing a bear costume, and they both burst out laughing. Sonja counted only ten teeth between them.
Moritz tripped over a snoring body sprawled across the floor, bumped into a waiter carrying a platter of dirty plates, and sent dishes, bones, forks, knives, and gravy crashing and splattering everywhere.
“I’m awfully sorry,” Moritz apologized. He bent down and started to pick up bits of broken plate.
The waiter stamped his foot down on Moritz’s hand. Moritz squealed and looked up.
“You dirty Scrummager!” roared the waiter.
“We’re not Scrummagers,” Wolf Boy said, gritting his teeth. Sonja grabbed Wolf Boy’s cloak and whispered, “I think we should go.”
Wolf Boy shoved her off and spat, “Mind your own business.”
The waiter rolled up his sleeves, revealing a carpet of hair on his arms. “I bet my momma’s false teeth you’re Scrummagers!”
“I bet your false teeth we’re not!”
The waiter paused. “I don’t have none.”
“But you will.” Wolf Boy leapt up and punched him in the mouth.
The waiter smiled a bloody smile. He grabbed a chair and lifted it up over the top of his head—but before he had a chance to bring it slamming down, it flew out of his hand, rocketed across the room, and banged into two reclining men in red velvet turbans. They dove for cover.
The waiter looked puzzled. He turned around.
A woman seated at the bar pulled back the hood of her coat. “I thought you might need some help.” Alexandria smiled.
Sonja laughed nervously. For the first time in her life, she was happy to see her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Captain and the Library
ALEXANDRIA LED THE CHILDREN AROUND THE BAR, through the back corridor, and down a narrow staircase. They entered a cellar filled with metal barrels. Charlotte looked around the candlelit room, confused. Alexandria twisted the rusty tap on a barrel. A gush of black gin poured out into her open flask. Charlotte frowned. They did not have time to indulge Alexandria’s addictions. They had people to save.
“Where’s Staghart?” Wolf Boy asked. “Is he meeting us here?”
“Shot in the shoulder,” said Alexandria. “He’s back in the Forlorn Forest. We’ll send word once we know Tatty’s whereabouts.” Alexandria shoved the flask into her coat pocket and pulled out Staghart’s Amulet. “You’re in charge of the Amber Drop now.”
Moritz stared wide eyed as Wolf Boy timidly took the goldcolored pendant. Moritz gulped. “You trust him with that?”
“I don’t. Staghart does.”
Wolf Boy put the Amber Drop around his neck. It lit up for a moment, then faded again. Moritz touched the warm, brilliant stone. “Staghart said it was more precious than his life.”
“Much more,” reiterated Alexandria. She looked at Wolf Boy. “You get the idea?”
“Yeah,” Wolf Boy muttered. “I get the idea.”
“What happened to you, anyway?” asked Alexandria. She grabbed a candle and walked to the middle of the room. “I’ve been waiting down here for ages.”
“Wolf Boy got us trapped in a factory,” Sonja blurted.
Charlotte rolled her eyes. Being a tattletale was one of her sister’s worst qualities. Wolf Boy already hated her. This would make it worse.
Wolf Boy glared at Sonja. “Funny, I thought I was the one who got us out of there.”
“A steel factory?” Alexandria interrupted. She started to rub the sawdust off a flagstone with her boot. “One of the Contessa’s?”
“Not steel,” corrected Moritz. “Animals.”
Alexandria straightened. “Animals?”
“Creatures.” Wolf Boy grimaced. “It was awful.”
“They injected something into their hearts,” Charlotte said quietly, “and suddenly they were alive.”
“Alive?” Alexandria said hesitantly. She grabbed Charlotte by the shoulders. “Are you sure that’s what you saw?”
Charlotte nodded, a little taken aback. She could feel Alexandria’s fingers press into her skin. “Tell her, Sonja.”
“It’s true. They injected something gold. Sort of floating and glittering.” Sonja paused. “Is it magic?”
Alexandria’s bewildered expression turned into a horrified one. She let go of Charlotte. “I thought it was an old wives’ tale that magic could bring the dead to life.”
Charlotte pulled out the framed photograph she had stolen. “I took this. It’s the woman who runs the factory shaking hands with Kats von Stralen. They have children working there against their will. They’ll die. They need our help.”
Alexandria stared at the photograph. “Only he would have found a way to make it work,” she muttered to herself. “He’s stealing Talents to get magic out of them. That’s where all the white beasts are coming from.” She paused and then raised her eyebrows. Charlotte saw a terrible thought enter her mind. In a barely audible whisper, Alexandria said, “He’s building her an army.”
Alexandria flung the photograph against the wall. The glass behind the frame shattered into a hundred little pieces.
Charlotte groaned. “That was evidence.”
“Why an army?” said Sonja. “There’s no war.”
“There will be. Just like Staghart said.”
Alexandria hastily kicked sawdust off a flagstone. A winged man with horns was roughly engraved into it. Charlotte recognized that it was a Tiffin. This was the Pathway into the Land Where the Plants Reign.
With a quick flick of her wrist, Alexandria swiped the stone away. Underneath it was a wooden door. She snapped her fingers. Nothing happe
ned. She tried again, but the door remained closed. “Help me, boys,” she said, kneeling down. Six hands grabbed the iron handle and pulled. The Changelings’ faces turned purple. They let go, breathless. The door would not budge.
“Power stronger than mine has blocked the Pathway. The Tiffins are preparing for the worst.” Alexandra thought for a moment. “We’re going to have to go another way. We still have time. The Protectors won’t be there until tomorrow.”
“Wait a second!” interrupted Sonja. “We have to meet Uncle Tell!”
“Are you deaf?” returned Alexandria. “The Pathway is blocked.”
“We’ve been up and down and all over the place!” yelled Sonja.
“There’s nothing we can do except go another way. Do you understand?”
Sonja glared at Alexandria, silent.
Alexandria’s eyes flashed with anger. “I’m warning you. If I hear another peep from either of you, I’m leaving you behind.”
Wolf Boy raised his hand. “I agree.”
“Who asked you?” snapped Sonja.
“I didn’t even say anything,” mumbled Charlotte. She was always being blamed for Sonja’s attitude. That was the price of being identical. Among other things.
Alexandria whipped the stone back into place and charged to the other end of the cellar. Her coat swept across the floor. Sawdust flew everywhere. She kicked open a short, arched door and strode out. The stink of rotting fish swept in. The Changelings followed her.
“I hate them,” fumed Sonja. “All of them. Well, not Moritz.”
“We don’t have time for this,” said Charlotte hurriedly. “I think she really will leave us here.” Charlotte pulled the reluctant Sonja onto a platform overlooking a network of canals. Long, narrow motorboats surged through the water, carrying goods from one part of the city to the other. Black moths swarmed around lamps hanging from the vaulted ceilings. Cockroaches fed on a slimy film that coated the brick floor.
Uncle Tell had told them that the canals were once the tunnels of an underground train system. As the city grew upward and the rainfall grew heavier, the tunnels were deserted and the cargo boats moved in.