Black Moon

by L. A. Weatherly

  My heart quickened. I pulled my knees to my chest, curling in a corner of the sofa.

  “I’d like that,” I said.

  The corner of Ingo’s mouth twisted. But his dark eyes were serious as he glanced at me. “Even though you know what I dance like?”

  “Yes,” I said simply.

  The playing went on for a long time. I sat watching Ingo – not singing, not joining in, just gazing at his face and the movement of his wrists and fingers, listening to the music.

  In a strange way, it was enough.

  I realized I was faintly relieved that we’d been interrupted. I couldn’t pretend that what I felt didn’t still scare me. And the timing seemed wrong, somehow – unsavoury. In a matter of hours, blood would be on all of our hands.

  Tomorrow, I thought. Once this was over, we could figure it out.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “He should have appeared by now,” murmured Hal, gazing up at the ornate bulk of the palace. We’d bought bottles of lemonade that we were too tense to drink. He tore the label from his in small, curled bits. “What do you think’s taking so long?”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered back. “Stop looking though.”

  We were sitting under an oak tree in Centre Park. I forced myself to lean casually back on the dry grass and cross my legs at the ankles. My dress was slightly too stylish for a late-summer day. I wore a hat with a thin black veil that I hoped would be enough to disguise me.

  A Harmony flag rustled atop the nearby bandstand. An old waltz lilted – some tune that Kay Pierce hadn’t banned yet. None of the gathered crowd danced. They just listened, fearful of doing something wrong.

  We’d heard the explosion seven minutes ago, right on schedule. If you hadn’t been listening for it, you wouldn’t have known what it was. It sounded like low thunder, or construction work a few blocks away. I’d instinctively gripped Hal’s hand at the noise, imagining Kay Pierce’s basement meeting room.

  Now, at this very instant, the other groups were carrying out their tasks. The next hour would be life or death for us all.

  Where was Collie?

  I tapped my lemonade bottle on the ground. Glancing down, I saw a pencilled V on one of the tree’s roots. I prayed it was a good sign.

  Dwight had been throwing sticks for someone’s dog. He came over and crouched beside us. He’d been quieter than usual since Nate’s death. He looked furtively up at the palace – at the balcony on the third floor.

  “Should we just go to the telio station anyway, do you think?” he muttered.

  I could see a trio of Guns wandering through the park in their short-sleeved summer uniforms. I darted a glance at the palace too. “We can’t.” I forced myself to take a swig of the too-tart lemonade. “We have to know what’s going on first.”

  Dwight started to reply and then froze, his hands tight on his thighs.

  “Look,” he said.

  More Guns had entered the park by the 59th Street entrance. The hairs at the back of my neck lifted. Coincidence? A random search for Discordants?

  “Amity…” murmured Hal, staring at them.

  The waltz was still playing. The Guns started fanning out. Another entrance lay behind us; I glanced at its wrought-iron gates and licked my lips.

  “All right…we’re going to get up and stretch. Then wander over to that ice-cream vendor near the—”

  I stopped. Two figures had appeared on the palace balcony.

  Two.

  One was Collie, as arranged…and one was Kay Pierce.

  Dwight took a quick, hissing breath. “Oh shit.”

  My pulse slammed against my veins. Collie had his arm around Pierce as if comforting her. Hal sat motionless, gaping upwards.

  No time to wonder how things had gone wrong. I snatched up my clutch purse with cold fingers. “Quick – get out now!” I muttered. I rose; Hal and Dwight followed.

  “Look casual,” I urged. “Don’t hurry.” I hooked my arm through Hal’s and we started for the park exit.

  The music stopped.

  People had started noticing Collie and Pierce; uneasy murmurs rustled through the air. Dwight strolled tensely, his hands in his denims pockets. Hal’s arm in mine was like steel.

  The siren that meant an announcement was imminent started wailing. We’d reached the gate. We kept on through it, then turned left, weaving our way through the passers-by. The klaxon still wailed. People were starting to stream into the park.

  We reached an empty bus stop. Hal was breathing hard. Dwight kept pounding his knuckles against his palm. “Oh, holy moley, what happened?” he muttered. “What the hell happened?”

  The wail of approaching sirens – seemingly from all directions. I gripped Hal’s arms, my words tumbling over each other.

  “Get to Mac’s group! They’ll be heading down Concord with President Weir by now. Don’t run, but hurry! Tell him Pierce is still alive, then get down into the tunnels. You know where. Stay safe!”

  With a visible effort, Hal steadied himself and nodded. “You too, Sis.”

  He set off at a brisk stride. All too soon, his dark head was swallowed by the crowd.

  Dwight was pale. “What about me? The telio station?”

  Jimmy’s group was waiting there for us, ready to storm it and take it over. I’d been supposed to give the news to the country that Pierce and Cain were dead and President Weir was back in power. I wished frantically that I could hear what Pierce was saying.

  What did it matter though? She was still alive. Maybe Cain was too.

  “Yes – hurry,” I said in a rush. “Get them into the tunnels, but don’t draw the Guns down there, whatever you do.”

  He hesitated, looking pained. “Where will you go? The capitol building?”

  “Dwight! Hurry!”

  He kissed my cheek. “Be careful, doll-face,” he implored, and took off.

  My emotions were in knots. Ingo, I thought fleetingly. Please let him have made it back into the tunnels.

  I spotted a red-and-black cab in the traffic – Harmony Taxis, read the sign. I flagged it. A few moments later, we were speeding uptown. Thankfully the capitol building was in Leo sector, where we were now – we wouldn’t have to cross a checkpoint.

  I sat in the back, fiddling with my clutch purse. “Please hurry,” I said again, my voice tight. “I’ve got an urgent message.”

  Shadowcars prowled thickly in the traffic, their grey lines high and curved. The cabby’s knuckles were white on the wheel. He glanced at me in the rear-view mirror.

  “Something’s up,” he said.

  It was all right to sound fearful; anyone would be. “Yes – I think they’re making an announcement at the palace.”

  “It was the monthly status meeting today.” The cabby didn’t say anything else; he didn’t know who I was. But he clearly thought Pierce had changed her mind about who was Discordant again – sent the Guns out in full force to clamp down.

  My gaze flicked to the lamp post at Central and 42nd as we passed. No dangling body. Not for long, probably.

  “Can’t you go faster?” I begged.

  “I’m doing my best, lady.”

  The capitol building used to be the city hall – an imposing structure of elongated rectangles, with broad white steps. As we reached the hill leading up to it, my heart lurched. Grey-uniformed Guns were swarming over the steps like locusts. Clubs swung as pistol fire came in staccato bursts.

  At least a dozen bodies lay, unmoving.

  The cabby swung to face me. “Sister, I ain’t heading up into that!”

  I felt punched. “No – no, turn here!” I gasped. “I have to get to Harlemtown. Hurry!”

  I gave him an address several blocks from Jakov’s. He refused to speed and I couldn’t blame him. We wove through the traffic, my brain screaming. What had gone wrong? We’d planned everything so carefully. But Pierce was no fool; she’d guessed her attackers would try for the capitol building.

  Or had been told so, by someone we�
�d thought we could trust.

  The thought was a sliver of ice. No. Surely not.

  Where was Hal? Had he reached Mac’s group before an army of Guns appeared? I longed to fling open the cab’s door and race towards Concord on foot, looking for him.

  I couldn’t.

  We finally reached the address I’d given. I thrust some bills at the cabby and took off at a run. The shabby Harlemtown streets were quiet.

  When I let myself in the deli’s back door, to my relief Jakov was out front, dealing with customers. I slipped through the kitchen unseen and then raced up the dingy stairs.

  From behind the door came a frantic rustling and thumping. I gave the coded knock in a rush. “It’s me!” I called.

  Sephy flung the door open, clutching documents. Her eyes were wild, her hair a black cloud framing her face.

  “Help me!” she cried.

  The telio set was on, showing the Harmony symbol. The announcer’s voice was urgent:

  “Repeat! The nefarious attempt on President Pierce’s life was unsuccessful, but this is still a dark day for Can-Amer…”

  Sephy was ripping up astrological charts, four or five at a time. “That file on the table! We have to destroy all of these.”

  I grabbed the file. “What’s the news saying?” I gasped.

  “Cain and all his cronies are dead. Pierce is fine, damn it; just fine!”

  I started tearing up charts, my motions fierce, frantic. “So’s Collie. We saw him in the park. He was on the balcony with Pierce.”

  Sephy’s gaze flew to mine. “He was?”

  When I nodded, she didn’t answer, but her movements took on more urgency. Neither of us said it, though I knew we were both thinking it.

  Had he betrayed us after all?

  Sephy scooped up the tattered piles of paper and ran to the bathroom. I heard the toilet flush. The cistern refilled. She flushed it again.

  She dashed back and forth, grabbing up the destroyed charts. I kept tearing, and tearing, until my fingers ached. Why is it too hot for a fire? I thought frantically. Smoke pouring from our chimney would be as good as sending out a beacon.

  “President Pierce urges her citizens to be strong and vigilant against the Discordant menace. If you see anything suspicious…”

  Sephy rushed back into the room just as the sirens started. She froze; our gazes clashed. I edged to the window and eased open the blinds. A Shadowcar was cruising down the street. I watched it pass, then swallowed and let the blinds fall.

  “Guns attacked the group outside the capitol,” I said softly. “It was a massacre. I couldn’t get to them in time to warn them.”

  Sephy shuddered. She snatched up her ephemeris and shoved it in a shopping bag. When she spoke, her voice was under tight control.

  “What about Mac? Have you seen him?”

  “No,” I admitted. “I sent Hal to warn his group. I don’t know where Hal is now either. Or Dwight. Or—” I broke off, my temples pounding. Why hadn’t I managed to say anything that mattered last night?

  The small diamond on Sephy’s hand glinted as she briefly gripped the table’s edge. “Hopefully they’re at the rendezvous point.”

  “Yes. Hopefully.” I glanced hurriedly around the room and grabbed up my clutch purse; it had money in it. “Are we finished?”

  We slipped downstairs. I could still hear Jakov in the front of the deli, and suspected he was staying away from the kitchen on purpose, to let us leave. If he’d heard the news, he’d know to destroy all traces of us.

  We crept down into the cellar, with its neat shelves stacked with supplies. In a dim corner, we eased open the small door that led down further still. The earthen scent of the tunnels embraced us. We took the two hidden lanterns and started off at a jog into the darkness.

  An hour later, we were deep in the old network. Normally there was no noise here. Now faint shouts echoed. “This way! Fan out! You take the eastern route! ”

  We stopped short, wincing. “This way,” I muttered. We backtracked to a narrow grate in the ground. I slid it aside and we clambered down a worn ladder.

  When we finally neared the rendezvous point, all was silent. The subway platform’s ancient lines loomed out from the darkness, ghostly in our lantern-light.

  Sephy and I edged forward. On one wall, you could still make out the station’s name: Canal Street, in faded green and red. No lights came from its platform – not even the soft gleam of a single hooded lantern.

  My neck prickled. I started to call out “Hello?” and then stopped myself. Who knew who might hear me?

  From the ancient tracks, the rise up to the station platform was at least five feet. We quietly hefted ourselves up. I swallowed hard, lifting my light. Hal, I thought wildly. If he was all right, he should be here by now. So should Ingo – Dwight – the others.

  Sephy gripped my arm suddenly. “Listen,” she mouthed.

  I strained my ears and stiffened: a faint crying sound was coming from nearby.

  We tiptoed further across the platform and rounded the corner. Huddled halfway up a flight of stairs with a blanket and a dimmed lantern, we found them: a coiffed blonde woman and two girls. One was a teenager, the other only four or five. The younger one flinched back, her cheeks tear-stained.

  I recognized the woman instantly: Gladys Weir. At the sight of me, the deposed president’s wife threw the blanket aside and started down to us.

  “You’re Amity Vancour,” she said hurriedly. “Beatrice, stop that,” she added sharply to her smallest daughter.

  “The monster man,” sobbed the girl, and my gaze flew to her. Ingo’s job had been to bring them down here to safety while Mac and the other groups attempted to reinstate President Weir.

  “Yes, I am,” I said shortly, still staring at the little girl. “What’s happening? Do you know anything?”

  Mrs Weir looked pale but composed, her red lipstick and broad-shouldered dress as perfect as if she were appearing on the telio. “Mr Jones got in touch recently to say the attack was going ahead. Then this morning, he and some others broke in past the guards – there was actually gunfire – and they took Arthur away as planned.”

  Her older daughter had risen too now – seventeen or so, as coiffed and pretty as her mother. She hefted the still-crying little girl. “Hush, now, the monster man didn’t mean us any harm,” she murmured.

  “And another of your group, the young man with the…” Mrs Weir faltered. “With the unfortunate…”

  “I know who you mean,” I said tightly.

  “Yes. Well, he brought us down here. He wouldn’t stop pacing, and would hardly talk, though I kept trying to find out what was going on. Finally he told us to stay here, out of sight. He was going to go back to check on Mr Jones and the others, he said.”

  Sephy and I stared at each other. Her brown eyes were wide and startled. Ingo always did what he said he would do. Always. For him to have left his charges, something must have gone terribly wrong.

  “How…how long ago was that?” asked Sephy.

  Gladys Weir shook her head. “An hour?”

  “More like two,” put in the older daughter. She held up her wrist, showing a sleek silver watch.

  My throat was sand. I drew Sephy out to the platform. “I have to go after them,” I whispered. “They might need more help.”

  “Don’t you get caught,” said Sephy, and then we both winced, realizing what she’d implied.

  “I won’t.” I glanced back towards Gladys Weir and her daughters and lowered my voice further.

  “If anything happens, head up there, all right?” I pointed down the tunnel to a ladder running up the wall. “It leads to an old service vent. Follow it east about half a mile, then climb down to the old 6th Avenue Line. You’ll come to another hiding place.”

  “The one with the bones?”

  “That’s it.”

  Sephy nodded and squeezed my hand. “Find Mac. Please. Bring him and the others back here safely. But if it’s not safe, you get
back here. Promise.”

  “I promise,” I said softly.

  It was a lie. Nothing was going to stop me from finding Ingo and my brother.

  As I neared the surface, Guns were everywhere. Again and again I had to change my route, listening to their shouts echoing through the ancient passageways.

  Finally I made it topside. The sewer’s entrance led to a dark alleyway several blocks east of Concord. As I knelt to push the cover back into place, I flinched: what I’d taken for muffled traffic was the sound of shouts.

  I forced myself through to the alley’s mouth – then jerked back as someone sprinted past. Peering out again, I saw Guns battling clusters of rioters, blackjacks swinging. Grey uniforms clogged the streets.

  None of our group. My stomach curled. Think.

  Hal hadn’t made it this far east, or I’d have encountered him in the tunnels. He’d gone to intercept Mac on Concord. Where would he have headed, faced with all this?

  Suddenly it came to me: Ernest and Mabel’s. Their safe house was only seven blocks away.

  I swallowed and pulled my veil over my face. I set off, keeping to the shadows at the sides of buildings as much as possible. A few times I had to break into a run to avoid a shouting crowd, or duck down a different street to evade Guns.

  Finally I reached Grant Boulevard. Though I could still hear riots, the street stretched emptily before me.

  I stared apprehensively. The Guns must have set up roadblocks somewhere – I’d have to hurry. Aware of how conspicuous I was about to look, I walked quickly out onto the sidewalk, head down.

  The street was as abandoned as if it were a ghost from old New York. The faint sound of a telio drifted out from Stargazer’s Bar. Pierce’s voice was an angry wasp.

  I couldn’t make out the words but my muscles clenched.

  How would Kay Pierce retaliate against the attempt on her life?

  The safe house lay around a bend, hidden from me. I briefly raised my veil, scanning the too-quiet street. I smoothed the veil back just as a man stepped out from a doorway – middle-aged, nondescript. When I tried to pass he blocked my way and my pulse spiked.