The Darkness Dwellers

by Kirsten Miller

  It is a throne that the princess says she has no intention of claiming. In a press conference earlier today, Princess Katarina stood beside the Pokrovian Prime Minister and announced her support for the fledgling democracy. “There will be no more queens or kings in Pokrovia,” she said. “This land should belong to its people.”

  And in a shocking turn of events, the young princess ended the press conference by declaring that she had solved the mystery of her parents’ murder.

  The video cut away from the television news anchor to footage from the press conference that had taken place on the steps of the royal palace of Pokrovia. Kiki stood on a step stool behind a podium. Her white hair was swept up in a chignon, and she was dressed in a simple, elegant black coat. Her ruby earrings sparkled in the sunshine, and some talented makeup artist had given her cheeks and lips the color they lacked in real life. She looked very much like a princess. Perhaps not a human princess, but a princess nonetheless. She held a pink diamond ring up in the air. The camera zoomed in on the magnificent jewel.

  “Many people in Pokrovia will recognize this piece of jewelry. It was my mother’s engagement ring. She wore it every day. In fact, she took it off only once—to have the band inscribed with a secret message—a message she wanted discovered in the event of her death. The ring was missing for fifteen years—until I found it in the possession of my aunt, Livia Galatzina. The band contains a set of directions. Those directions recently led me to a secret compartment in my mother’s old chambers. There, I discovered a note and a security tape. That tape clearly shows Livia poisoning a meal that had been prepared for my family. That first attempt on my parents’ lives did not succeed. Unfortunately, Livia’s second attempt did. It has been many years since my parents were murdered, but it is never too late for justice to prevail.”

  Less than an hour after these accusations were made, Princess Katarina survived an attempt on her own life. Shots rang out as she left the palace, the bullets narrowly missing the diminutive royal. A man was captured fleeing the scene. Lending further credence to the princess’s claims, the assassin was revealed to be a man by the name of Sergei Molotov. A former member of the Pokrovia Royal Guard, Molotov has been in the employ of Livia Galatzina since the former queen’s short and disastrous reign.

  Police in France arrested the remaining members of the Pokrovian royal family at a Paris hotel. Livia Galatzina’s daughter, Sidonia, was also taken into custody. In yet another bizarre twist, the two had been hiding in a hotel room for days, trying to combat the side effects of an untested hair tonic. Paparazzi photos captured two fur-covered females being taken away in handcuffs. According to those on the scene, at least one photographer was overcome by the sewage-like odor that followed in the Pokrovians’ wake.

  “Thanks for finding an American news report on the Internet,” Betty said. “There are some things you need to enjoy in your native language.”

  “Marcel has the photo you requested as well,” Etienne informed her.

  “I’m not sure I got a good shot. My eyes started watering from the stench. Do you think this will suit your purposes?” Marcel asked, holding out a picture of Livia and Sidonia. Both of them were covered in hair.

  Betty took the photo and nearly collapsed in a fit of laughter. “It’s perfect,” she cackled.

  “One of the guys at the hotel told me Sidonia clogged every drain in the bathroom trying to shave the stuff off,” Marcel said. “I’m truly impressed, Miss Bent. You knew exactly what would happen each step of the way. You played your cards brilliantly.”

  “Yes, the first part of your plan has been a triumph,” Etienne agreed. “And from what I’ve heard, the next stage is equally ingenious. You have a gift for mischief, mademoiselle.”

  “Thanks,” said Betty with a twinkle in her eye. “I just wish you both could be in New York for the grand finale.”

  “We’ll be scouring the New York Times for news every morning,” Marcel said. “But you must call with all the juicy details that the papers won’t publish.”

  “I promise,” Betty said, embracing the two boys.

  “I will miss you,” Etienne said.

  “He will,” Marcel confirmed with a wicked grin. “Though I suspect he may miss one of your friends even more. He was heartbroken when Verushka said she was going home so soon.”

  “Marcel!” Etienne exclaimed, turning beet red.

  “You have the hots for Verushka?” Betty teased. “Kiki is going to be very upset when she finds out that you’ve fallen for an older woman. If I were you, I wouldn’t tell her when she gets here.”

  “Gets here?” Etienne asked. “Isn’t she flying straight back to New York?”

  “Verushka, Amelia, and I are flying to New York. For some reason, Kiki wants to stay in Paris for a while.”

  Chapter 41

  A Picture’s Worth a Thousand Words

  NEW YORK CITY: WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 25

  The buzzer rang just before four p.m., and five girls jumped. Oona hurried to her living room window and peered down at the sidewalk below.

  “It’s Kaspar,” she said. “Looks like he’s lugging a whole bunch of stuff. Someone should go down and help him bring it up.”

  “I will!” I volunteered. Maybe my enthusiasm made my fellow Irregulars nervous. Maybe a couple of them shared a look of concern. But I didn’t notice a thing.

  “Hey, Kaspar,” I said when I reached the bottom of the stairs. “Let me grab one of those bags.”

  “Is Betty here yet?” he asked eagerly.

  “No, but she should be arriving any minute now. She’s coming straight from the airport. I bet you’re looking forward to seeing her.”

  “I haven’t been able to sleep since she booked the flight. I hope I get a kiss before I pass out on the floor.”

  A few days earlier, those very same words might have broken my heart. Now they made me smile. The moment Betty had told me she trusted me, I somehow knew I deserved it.

  DeeDee met us at the door of the apartment.

  “Are those your graffiti supplies?” she asked Kaspar, wringing her hands. “Do you know what Betty wants us to do with them?”

  “Nope,” Kaspar replied.

  “I hope she’s got a good plan!” DeeDee was so anxious that she couldn’t stand still. “We gave Faye Durkin the cure two days ago. I’ve started working on a hair-removing ointment just in case she makes some poor person try it.”

  “Relax,” Luz said from the sofa. “Betty knows what she’s doing.” It was the first time that sentence had ever emerged from Luz Lopez’s mouth.

  “She’s here! Betty’s here!” Iris shouted from the window. “I’ll go carry her things.”

  “No, Iris,” I ordered. “Let Kaspar do that.”

  “If you say so,” Iris said with a wide smile on her face. “You’re the boss, Ananka.”

  Ten minutes later, Betty and Kaspar finally joined us. It was hard to tell if they were both blushing—or just out of wind from carrying two enormous suitcases up three flights of stairs.

  “Geez, Betty,” Oona said, eyeing the luggage. “Did you bring half of France back with you?”

  “My stuff is getting dropped off at my house,” Betty said. “These are for you. I heard you were robbed while I was gone. I had a little bit of time yesterday to do some shopping, so I picked up a few new outfits I thought you might like.”

  “In Paris?” Oona gasped.

  “What’d you do? Raid a souvenir shop at the airport?” Luz droned, but everyone chose to ignore her.

  “I was really sorry to hear about Lili,” Betty told Oona.

  “Lili? Lili who?” Oona joked as she gave Betty a giant hug.

  “Maybe you should consider giving your sister another chance,” Betty advised. “I seem to remember that you were a pretty tough nut to crack too. And I know we’re all glad that we didn’t give up on you.”

  I’d never thought of it that way, and I could see that Oona hadn’t either.

  “It sure is
nice to be back,” Betty said after the rest of us had finished smothering her with hugs. “So, what do you say? Are you guys ready to get to work?”

  I kept my eyes on Betty as the Irregulars crowded around to hear her plan. She hadn’t changed a bit, I decided. The poised, confident girl who’d just arrived in New York was the same sweet, sensitive soul I’d sent off to Paris. The only difference, it seemed to me, was that Betty Bent no longer wanted to be anyone else.

  “Please tell me you know how to get the cure from Faye Durkin,” DeeDee pleaded.

  “We’re not going to bother getting the cure back,” Betty said. “We’re going to make that pharmaceutical lady regret she ever wanted it in the first place.”

  “How are we supposed to do that?” Luz asked.

  Betty flipped the latch on her handbag and took out a photo. “We’re going to launch an advertising campaign for Fem-Tex Pharmaceuticals. I’ve already found the perfect spokesmodels.”

  Even DeeDee burst into laughter at the sight of Livia and Sidonia Galatzina covered in thick, matted fur.

  “Kaspar can help us paper the whole island with posters,” Betty continued. “We’ll use that image. I figured the ads could say something like, ‘The latest advance in hair care. Brought to you by Fem-Tex Pharmaceuticals.’ No one’s going to want the cure after they see one of our posters.”

  “Oh my God, that’s brilliant!” I exclaimed.

  “Yeah,” agreed an awestruck Iris.

  Oona started fidgeting like a five-year-old with a full bladder. “I gotta make a phone call,” she suddenly announced.

  “Who are you going to call?” I asked. “We’re all here!”

  “My broker! I’m going to short Fem-Tex stock! We’ll make a fortune!”

  Only Luz remained skeptical about the plan. “I think it’s a really smart idea, Betty,” she said. “But there are only seven of us. We’ll need a whole army if we’re going to put posters up all over town.”

  “Fortunately, I know just where to find an army,” I informed the group. “You guys get started. I have to go see Molly Donovan.”

  Betty pulled me to one side. “We should have a chat before you go,” she said. “I never got a chance to tell you the whole story.”

  “You don’t need to,” I told her. “I know what happened to Amelia Beauregard.”

  I waited on the stoop of L’Institut Beauregard with a framed photograph clutched to my chest. Judging by the students who marched past me, Manhattan was now a zombie-free zone. I listened as the latest gossip passed from girl to girl. Madame Beauregard had returned from France, and Molly Donovan’s troops were eagerly awaiting an epic showdown. A few of them seemed to believe it might even get bloody.

  I had one chance left to stop Molly’s war, and I prayed the picture I’d brought would do the trick. If I failed, a girl and her grandmother might remain mortal enemies. And Principal Wickham would lose the last of her dwindling faith in me. That afternoon, I’d visited her for the first time in three days and found her preparing for a visit with Amelia Beauregard. The principal had decided to confront her old friend face-to-face, and it took a full hour to convince her to remain on the sidelines.

  At ten minutes to five, Molly Donovan marched down Tenth Street, surrounded by a legion of supporters. The day she’d been waiting for had finally arrived. And Molly seemed to smell victory in the air.

  “Are you here for the show?” Molly asked when she saw me. “Beauregard is back just in time to see the freaks take over the finishing school. I heard she’s going to be addressing the entire student body tonight, and I’ve got something real special planned for the occasion.”

  “Can I talk to you first?” I asked. “Alone?”

  “I’m a big girl, Ananka. I don’t need you to warn me that what I’m doing is dangerous.”

  “I’m not here to warn you,” I said. “I just want to show you something.”

  “Give me two minutes, guys,” Molly told her comrades. “I’ll meet you inside.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a sigh of relief.

  “I was serious, Ananka. You’ve got two minutes. That’s it.”

  “That’s all I need.” I gestured for Molly to sit beside me on the stoop. Then I handed her the framed photo I had taken off Principal Wickham’s wall.

  Molly grinned. “Who’s the girl? I like her already. Did she really jump in the lake?”

  “Yep. Just like you would. In fact, you and this girl have a lot in common. She even looks a bit like you, wouldn’t you say? I know the photo’s black-and-white, but I’ve heard her hair used to be as red as yours.”

  Molly wasn’t grinning anymore. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  “This girl is your great-grandmother. You think you’re a freak of nature? A mutant? A mistake? You’re not. You’re exactly like your great-grandmother. And all those math skills you don’t like to talk about? They came from your great-grandfather. He was a mathematics prodigy just like you.”

  “How do you know all of this?” Molly demanded. “And why are you telling me now when I’m about to go into battle?”

  “Because you’re about to meet your great-grandmother for the very first time. Her name is Amelia Beauregard. She wasn’t Thyrza’s rival. She was her mother.”

  “No!” Molly jumped up as if the stoop had been set on fire. “No, no, no, Ananka!”

  “It’s true. Hopefully, Madame will tell you the rest of the story. But please promise me you’ll listen to what she has to say. It might be different from what you’re expecting to hear.”

  For the first time since I’d known her, Molly Donovan looked terrified. “Does my mother know about this?” she asked in a whisper.

  “No,” I said.

  “What am I supposed to do?” Molly asked.

  “Be brave,” I told her. “And try to be kind.”

  “If I go see her, will you promise to wait for me?” Molly asked.

  “I’ll be right here,” I assured her.

  To this day, I don’t know exactly what was said in Amelia Beauregard’s Wedgwood-blue office. But I do know it took forever to say it. It was almost eight o’clock by the time Molly plopped back down beside me with her red beret in her hands.

  “Well, that explains a lot,” she said.

  “Still convinced you’re adopted?” I asked.

  “I never really thought I was adopted,” Molly admitted. “There were a million photos taken the day I was born. I just couldn’t understand what happened after that. I thought someone must have dropped me on my head when I was a baby. Or maybe I ate a bunch of paint chips or something. I know this will sound weird to anyone who’s actually seen us together, but I always felt really bad for my mom. I knew I’d never be the perfect daughter she deserves. I didn’t want to disappoint her, so I figured it was better to keep my distance.” Molly looked shocked to hear her own words. “Wow. I think I just made some kind of breakthrough. Maybe I should call all my old shrinks and demand a refund.”

  “So, now you know why you are who you are.”

  “Yeah. I’m not sure why it makes me feel so much better, but it does. My mom was always sad that she never knew her mother or grandmother. They were the only two people she really wanted to meet. Now I’ve found one of them, and I’m exactly like her. Maybe I won’t turn out to be such a disappointment to my mom after all.” Molly paused, and her eyes widened. “Oh, God—can you believe I almost destroyed my own grandma? You kept trying to stop me, and I wouldn’t even listen!”

  “Does this mean you’re finally going to shut down your academy?”

  “Nope,” Molly said. “Beauregard doesn’t want me to. She said it’s the sort of school she would have wanted to go to when she was my age. She asked me to keep running it until the institute reopens next semester.”

  Now I was surprised. “Madame Beauregard is closing down the institute?”

  “Temporarily. She’s decided to retire so she can spend more time with me and Mom. But the institute will reopen in
a few months with a new headmistress. She says she has someone special in mind. I think the lady’s name is Verushka. They met in France.”

  “Verushka Kozlova?” I sputtered.

  “That’s the one,” Molly confirmed. The name meant nothing to her … yet.

  “What else did Madame Beauregard tell you?” I asked.

  “Everything,” Molly said. “Way too much to repeat. Besides, you probably know it all anyway. She just wants me to grow up to be the person I was meant to be. I guess she never had that chance.”

  It’s hard to feel lucky for things you’ve always taken for granted. But suddenly I knew just how fortunate I was to be growing up in twenty-first-century New York.

  “I guess that’s it, then,” Molly announced, interrupting my thoughts. “My war is over. But it sure was fun while it lasted.”

  “How many troops do you have at your command?” I asked.

  “I dunno. A hundred, maybe?”

  “They might get restless if you don’t keep them busy,” I said.

  “Sounds like you’ve got something in mind,” Molly said. “Are you saying there might be another opportunity to fight the forces of evil?”

  “Yep,” I said.

  “Then my army of freaks is at your disposal. But first, I have to go home and talk to my mother. Grandma says she’d like to meet her.”

  Chapter 42

  The Snodgrass Guide to Being a Lady

  NEW YORK: SUNDAY, MARCH 1

  The New York Times later called it “one of the top three guerilla ad campaigns of the twenty-first century.” A few savvy observers noted similarities to an earlier campaign in which giant squirrels demanded rights for all animals. For days Fem-Tex Pharmaceuticals was the talk of Manhattan. With the help of Molly Donovan’s army, the Irregulars had plastered the entire city with posters. Every ad featured the same image of two hair-covered Pokrovian criminals and the following message: