The counterman had his back to the counter, unloading goods from a cardboard box. Then he caught something out of the corner of his eye. When he turned around, he saw fifty dollars’ worth of food items somehow floating out the door.
“I’ll pay you back double, I promise!”
A man’s voice. From nowhere.
CHAPTER 32
LAMONT WAS ONLY a short distance from the shop when he felt the quick tingle that told him he was visible again. He was suddenly drained and exhausted. The effect had been perfect, but it hadn’t lasted. What happened? Had the chemicals in his body messed with his abilities? Or was he just out of practice? In the old days, he could stay invisible for hours with no effort. Now quick getaways seemed to be all he could manage. Was he losing that old Shadow magic? Maybe he needed to ration it. Emergency use only.
The climb up the apartment stairs had him huffing and puffing. When he got to the top, Maddy was waiting. She was not happy.
“Where the hell did you go?” she asked. Her hair was untamed and her eyes were still puffy from sleep, which made her look even more annoyed.
“I needed some provisions,” Lamont answered. He was unused to accounting for his whereabouts. Or being trapped in a hovel, for that matter.
“You know the whole city is looking for you, right?” said Maddy. “There’s probably a bounty on your head. You could have led them right to us!”
Lamont flushed slightly. He knew Maddy was right. It was stupid of him to put the others in danger. He needed to be more careful.
“Everybody okay?” Jessica peeked out from behind the door, wearing a thin robe and pom-pom slippers.
“Safe and sound,” said Lamont, with his best smile. He held up his armful of supplies. “Anybody hungry?”
He glanced at the credenza as he walked in. He had put the photograph right back where he’d found it the night before, and he was an expert at making things look untouched. Of course, he was eager to ask about it, but he wanted to pick the right moment, when he could get Jessica alone.
But right now, what he truly needed was some cooking equipment.
“Is this all you’ve got?” he asked, looking at the stained and blackened hot plate on the counter.
“What more do you want?” asked Jessica, sounding a little irked.
“Maybe a fry pan and some utensils?” said Lamont.
“Oh,” said Jessica, “we’re going first class.”
She reached into a small cabinet and pulled out a cast iron skillet and a metal spatula. Maddy reached above her head and pulled a large glass bowl off a shelf.
“Okay, I’m in business,” said Lamont. “Now scoot, both of you. Too many cooks, etcetera…”
Jessica and Maddy retreated to the sofa as Lamont unloaded his supplies onto the counter. Bando hovered around his feet, sniffing his shoes. Lamont turned on the hot plate, and then started measuring and mixing from memory. It had been a while, obviously.
“What are you doing in there?” asked Maddy, as a warm, buttery aroma started to waft through the living room.
“Don’t rush me, please!” Lamont called back from the kitchen.
In fact, his recipe didn’t take long at all. He had stolen it from a chef in a Paris café, and it had never failed to impress his overnight guests. The preparation required a little finesse, but it was worth it.
“Plates?” Lamont called out.
Maddy hustled into the kitchen and pulled three chipped dishes from a cabinet. Lamont moved quickly now, spooning streaks of strawberry jam onto thin circles of golden batter. With a few deft flips of the spatula, he was done. He brought the plates to the table as Jessica and Maddy pulled up their chairs.
“Bon appetit!” he said.
It was the first time either Maddy or Jessica had ever tasted crêpes Suzette, and they were just about speechless. Maddy devoured the first delicate wrap in about two bites. Jessica was only slightly more restrained.
“Sorry I couldn’t find any Grand Marnier,” said Lamont.
“What?” said Maddy, her mouth full.
“Liqueur,” he said. “One of the classic ingredients.”
“Doesn’t matter,” replied Maddy. “These are amazing!”
Jessica smiled at Lamont. She hadn’t seen Maddy this enthusiastic about a meal in a long time.
“Did you invent it yourself?” Maddy asked, licking her fingers.
“It was invented by the French,” said Lamont. “In the 1800s.”
“Vive la France!” said Jessica, polishing off her portion and smiling at Lamont.
“So how do you make it?” asked Maddy.
“Sorry,” Lamont said. “Secret recipe.”
“Don’t make me beg,” said Maddy. “Tell me!”
Lamont put down his fork. He sensed a vibration in the very center of his brain. He knew Maddy wasn’t really trying to pressure him. She was just a kid in a good mood, having fun. But she had something powerful inside her—more powerful than she realized.
Lamont felt it to his core.
CHAPTER 33
TWO ORANGE-BREASTED European robins inched tentatively from their perch onto Sonor Breece’s narrow wrist. Their tiny feet felt like tickles against his skin, their bodies almost weightless. The birds chirped nervously. Breece moved slowly. The last thing he wanted to do was startle them into flight.
With the birds on his hand, Breece eased over to his worktable. He rested his arm on the oak top, next to a small dish of water. After a moment’s hesitation, the birds hopped from his hand onto the wood surface. Breece remained still, his face at the level of the tabletop, observing. He liked robins, especially this species.
So colorful. So cheerful.
The birds took a few seconds to adjust to the hard, flat surface. They chirped brightly and craned their necks in every direction. Then, one after the other, they moved to the rim of the dish and dipped their beaks into the clear sugar water. They tilted their heads back, letting gravity carry the sweet liquid down their throats.
“Pretty birds,” said Breece softly.
In less than two seconds, the birds were both lying on their sides, with tiny bubbles of white foam spilling from their beaks. Breece waited a few seconds more, then reached out and hovered a palm lightly over each bird, feeling for signs of life. There were none.
He was so intent on his experiment that he didn’t hear the soft steps behind him. “Has it improved?”
Gismonde.
Startled, Breece stood up sharply and pulled his hands back to his sides.
“Yes, no doubt,” said Breece. “The new formula is even faster. More efficient.”
“This is predictive?” Gismonde asked, eyeing the tiny lifeless forms on the table.
“Well of course, we need further testing at scale, but I have every confidence—”
Gismonde cut him off. “Test it tonight,” he said. He turned toward the stairs and then paused. “And what about Mr. Cranston?” he asked. “Do you have him yet?”
Breece flushed. He had issued the search order, of course. But he had been too preoccupied to follow up. A mistake. And now he was forced to cover up with bluster.
“The squads are out,” Breece said firmly. “We’ll have him soon, without fail.”
Gismonde didn’t respond. He just stared. Breece met his gaze for a moment, then dipped his head in a reflexive bow. The look had been enough to shake him. When Breece lifted his eyes again, Gismonde was gone.
Breece pressed a button on a console at the end of the table. A guard appeared in the doorway.
“Open the Hudson mission tonight at five,” said Breece. The guard nodded once and started to turn as Breece completed his instructions.
“And add twenty more tables.”
Breece took a ruler and carefully pushed the robins into a bin.
CHAPTER 34
I’M TRYING TO talk sense into Lamont, but it’s no use. Now that breakfast is over, he wants to go outside and explore the city, looking for Margo. As if she were just g
oing to be walking down the street on a Saturday stroll.
“Lamont, you’re a fugitive, remember? You escaped from the police! That’s no joke!”
“Look, I’m not going to find her by hiding out in this apartment,” he says. “If you won’t go with me, I’ll go out by myself!”
I can tell he’s not going to be reasonable about this. So I reach into a drawer and pull out two plastic animal masks. One panda. One raccoon. If he wants to go roaming the streets in the middle of the morning, we need cover.
“Take your pick,” I tell him.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” he says.
“Lamont, there are cameras everywhere! FR can pick you out in a crowd of a thousand people!”
Lamont looks puzzled.
“FR? Who’s that?”
“FR,” I say. “Facial recognition.” I try to think of something he might be able to relate to. “It’s kind of like a Wanted poster—but electronic—and it’s everywhere. This is how we beat it.” I hold up the masks. He shrugs, and picks the panda. Looks like I’m the raccoon.
A minute later, we’re on the street. We walk one block and already there’s a bottleneck. On weekends, there’s a different rhythm in the city. More kids running loose. Bigger crowds. More unapproved gatherings. More potential for crackdowns.
Up ahead, I see a platform in the middle of the street with two men standing on it. I recognize them from posters. Franklin and DeScavage, two local councilmen.
“I won’t compromise on this!” Franklin is shouting.
“You don’t have a choice!” DeScavage shouts back.
They’re arguing about the location of a med clinic. It happens all the time. Since the only hospital in the city is reserved for government officials and rich people, the rest of us have to make do with paramedics and bandages. Sometimes where the clinics end up depends on who can raise the rowdiest crowd.
“What’s this?” asks Lamont. “What’s going on?”
I pull him off to the edge of the crowd. “Medical stuff,” I tell him. “They’re arguing about healthcare.”
Usually speakers bring portable microphones to these events, but these two are just shouting at each other from ten feet apart. I can hear them from where we’re standing. Franklin yells that his district has more seniors. DeScavage yells back that his district has more pregnancies. The crowds on both sides are getting more agitated, shoving closer to the stage. I can see that DeScavage’s crowd is younger and more charged up.
The DeScavage side starts to shout Franklin down. He’s getting angry and red in the face.
All of a sudden, a huge guy from DeScavage’s crowd jumps onto the platform. He shoves Franklin backward and knocks him off his feet. Now the other side moves forward. People start kicking and punching. Women are screaming. Faces are getting bloody. It’s total chaos.
I tug on Lamont’s sleeve.
“We need to go,” I say. “Now!”
We duck between two buildings and find some space in an alley. The inside of my mask stinks like melted rubber. I figure it’s safe to take it off back here. The second I pull off my mask, Lamont pulls his off too.
“It’s unbelievable!” says Lamont. “This place has turned into an insane asylum!”
“It’s like the Third Reich under Hitler,” I mumble. It takes Lamont a second to absorb the name.
“Adolf Hitler?” he asks, as we head down the alley.
“Finally!” I say. “Somebody besides Roosevelt that you’ve actually heard of!”
“Hitler. With the goofy mustache?” Lamont asks.
“That’s the one,” I say.
“Yes! I remember,” says Lamont. “He was that creepy little guy who was getting Germany all riled up!” I can see him getting excited, picking up steam, proud that he’s remembering.
“He did more than that,” I say.
“It got worse?” says Lamont. “What happened? What did he do?”
“Lamont,” I say, “I don’t even know where to start.”
CHAPTER 35
THAT NIGHT, LAMONT took a walk by himself, heading south on Eleventh Avenue.
Walking had always been a way for Lamont to clear his mind. But now his brain was turning nonstop. Maddy had spent the day filling his head with all the evil he’d missed while he was sleeping. Not just Hitler. Stalin. Mao. Pol Pot. Milosevic. Hussein. Bin Laden. Al-Assad. And all the rest. It was hard to keep them all straight—along with their assorted crimes against humanity. The world had truly gone mad!
And now on top of everything else, the city seemed to be sinking under his feet. To the west, what used to be Twelfth Avenue was now underwater. And even on Eleventh, he had to step around deep puddles and small streams that appeared out of nowhere. Lamont heard a low rumble, strong enough to make the sidewalk shake. For a second, he thought the pavement was about to collapse.
Suddenly, a huge armored patrol vehicle turned the corner behind him. Lamont angled his head just enough to see the outriders leaning off the side platforms, rifles ready. A searchlight on the roof swept the street in a steady back-and-forth pattern. Lamont’s heart began to pound. In another few seconds, he’d be caught in the glare. Without his panda mask.
The truck was even closer now, just yards away. The searchlight swept back in his direction. At the last possible instant, Lamont closed his eyes and concentrated. He waited for the rush. The truck rumbled past him. The guards looked along his side of the street and saw…nobody at all.
Lamont leaned back against a wall. He saw the searchlight rake the vacant storefront just past him. He exhaled slowly, exhausted and totally visible again. No question about it. His superpower was totally out of shape. Maybe it was permanent, or maybe he was just out of practice.
As the patrol turned the corner ahead, Lamont stayed close to the shuttered shops. A half-block ahead, he saw a man and a woman heading for a belowground staircase. The woman was slender, with blond hair. Lamont felt his pulse quicken. Could it be? He headed for the staircase. When he got closer, he saw a dim light from below. At the bottom of the stairwell was a thick metal door. He hurried down the steps.
“Hold it!” A heavyset woman emerged from the dark corner of the stairwell. She was pointing a gun five inches from Lamont’s face.
“Turn around,” she ordered.
“I don’t have any money,” said Lamont, holding his arms out. “I’m totally broke.”
“You and me both, honey,” said the woman. She passed her hands over him in an amateurish body search, then slapped him on the shoulder.
“You’re fine. Go ahead in if you want.” She nodded toward the door and stuffed the gun back into her waistband. “But things don’t really get hopping until after two.”
Lamont reached for the door handle and pulled it open. The air from inside hit him in a thick wave, filled with smoke and the scents of beer and sweat. The small room was packed, mostly with young people. Lamont craned his head over the crowd, looking for the couple he had followed. There! At the bar. At least he thought so.
The woman turned toward him. Petite. Pretty. Blond. But not Margo. Maybe she wasn’t the one he saw. He tried to push his way toward the back of the room, but it was no use. Too packed.
Lamont had been in plenty of speakeasies, but this was something else. Cables from a generator near the door led to a small stage, where a man with a thick body and broad smile was pacing. A fringe of long, wiry hair surrounded his bald spot, which reflected the beam of the spotlight whenever he turned his head.
He moved with the authority of a preacher and spoke in a deep, raspy voice. Lamont only caught every other word—but from what he’d heard from Maddy, just about everything this guy said could get him arrested. Because it sounded like he was making fun of the authorities. His punchy phrases were answered with hearty laughs and cheers from the audience.
In a miserable, unhappy city, this was the last thing Lamont expected.
A comedian.
“In or out!” said a voice from behind. A ne
w group of patrons was pressing through the door behind him. Lamont stepped aside to let them pass. He made one last scan around the room, but he was getting faint from lack of air. Slowly, he edged his way back out into the stairwell.
“What is this?” he asked the greeter with the gun. “What’s going on in there?”
“Comedy club,” she said. “Totally illegal. But that’s what makes it fun.”
“Does this happen every night?” Lamont asked.
“Until they lock us all up,” she replied. “Or kill us.”
Lamont headed up the stairs. “I’ll come back soon,” he said. “I’ll bring a friend.”
He suspected that Maddy could use a little comic relief.
CHAPTER 36
LAMONT WAITED FOR a few minutes before darting across the street back to Maddy and Jessica’s apartment. He watched. He listened. When the street was deserted, he crossed. But as he approached the door to the building, two men emerged from the adjacent alley. Lamont froze.
The men were both weaving, and slurring their words. In a split second, Lamont decided he couldn’t take any chances. Not this close to home. The men looked up. Lamont took a breath. He concentrated. He vanished.
The men saw Lamont. Then they didn’t. They stood unsteadily in the middle of the street, too pickled to notice the door to the building nearby opening on its own.
One man squinted into the darkness. “Did you just see…?”
“I…uhh…nope,” said his buddy. It wasn’t the first time his eyes had played tricks on him after a long night. “Damned hooch,” he muttered.
Inside the vestibule, Lamont rested a few minutes to catch his breath before tackling the stairs. He was hoping Jessica would be awake so he could ask her about the photo of Margo. But when he got to the top and opened the door, Maddy was the only one still up.
“Make any new friends?” she asked, with a sarcastic edge. She hadn’t been pleased when Lamont insisted on going out alone. And like a nervous parent, she’d waited up.
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