The Tombs

by Deborah Schaumberg

  As we came within sight of the Gypsy camp, I prayed it wasn’t too late. We carried Geeno to the apothecary, where I told the herb doctor what had happened and gave him the sealed glass dart containing the rest of the liquid. Khan had already disappeared, off in search of Katalina.

  On my way out, I checked on Oscar. He didn’t look good. Still sedated, his skin had taken on a yellowish tinge and red lines streaked up one of his legs. I closed my eyes and squeezed his clammy hand. “Don’t give up, Oscar,” I whispered. “And just in case you heard the herb doctor say something scary about your leg, I want to tell you my father’s metal leg is fantastic, even has its own gun. My father will make you a replacement, if it comes to that.” Oscar’s hand remained limp and lifeless as I tucked it under the colorful throw.

  Outside, I sensed a difference in the camp. It was quieter than usual, and the few people there eyed me suspiciously. My legs felt barely able to hold me up. Geeno and Oscar were like little brothers to me. I knew I shouldn’t have let Geeno stay late with me. This was my fault.

  I felt a pair of arms encircle me. Katalina gave me a hug, then held me out by the shoulders. “Sar zhal-pe tusa! Mishto zhanes sar te nashaves la bedatar! Using the skills I taught you, of course.”

  “Katalina, you know I don’t understand what you’re saying, don’t you?”

  She laughed. “I said, ‘Salut, friend. You know how to get out of trouble.’ But you look like a vagabond chimney sweep. What do you see in this welding business, anyway? So dirty, bah.”

  I thought about what I must look like with my soot-streaked face, my hair matted down. She was right; my clothes were black from crawling through the coal room. Every inch of me was filthy, but I didn’t care. Mr. Malice was dead; Geeno and Oscar were hurt. I felt as beaten as Mr. Malice’s old punching bag hanging in the storeroom.

  Khan put his arm around me. “Easy, Katalina. She’s had a long night.”

  Katalina pushed Khan away from me. “Off of her, then. She needs a hot bath and a long rest.”

  I woke up in a nightshirt that I assumed belonged to Katalina, red sheets silky on my skin. It had been a week since I’d slept in a real bed. I didn’t want to get up.

  The last thing I remembered was Katalina and another young woman, Mariana, leading me to Katalina’s red tent. I was scrubbed in scalding and perfumed bathwater, my hair combed through and oiled, my nails brushed, and my skin massaged with something that smelled like honey. They’d fed me Romany tea, cinnamon saffron dough, and eggs with cascaval cheese. It’d been years since I’d felt this clean and this full. I didn’t have female friends in my life anymore to braid hair or share secrets with. I hadn’t realized how much I missed it.

  After I’d eaten, they bundled me in a hooded wool cloak and made me tell my story over and over again as, group by group, people crammed into the tent to hear it. No one, not even the herb doctor, believed Spector had controlled Mr. Malice. The consensus was that he’d sedated him so he could push him off the catwalk. I’d argued that Spector had not been close enough to push Mr. Malice. Mr. Malice had jumped on his own. But no one paid me any mind. And it wasn’t until I fell asleep midsentence that I vaguely heard Katalina yelling at everyone to get out.

  Clutching the sheet around my body, I sat up. I was alone. Candles had been lit and clothing laid out on the red sofa. Freezing, I tiptoed over. Katalina had set out one of her black dresses and some boots. The only items that belonged to me were my leather corset, my knife, my necklace, and my helmet. I slipped on the underclothes and leggings and pulled on the dress, buttoning it up the front. The bustle was sewn in, so there was no avoiding it. Grimacing, I patted my enlarged derriere. The upper dress was tightly fitted, while the skirt had soft layers cascading down from the padded encumbrance in back.

  I never understood the bustle or the dreadful crinoline. I remember climbing inside my mother’s hooped cage crinoline when I was small and pretending it was an American Indian hut. It was so large that I fit easily. The bustle had been getting smaller, however, until recently. Now it seemed to be expanding again.

  Grabbing some hairpins, I walked to Katalina’s full-length mirror and stopped short. I stared at my reflection, lifted my chin, and straightened my shoulders. For some reason, my face looked more like my mother’s, and it was not just the clothing.

  What is it? I leaned closer, squinting. We both had hazel eyes and slightly wide noses, but it wasn’t that. There was a quality to my expression I’d never noticed before, a softening of the eye, maybe, or a set to my jaw. Could it be the visions? Could it be that we saw the world the same way? I wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, it warmed me inside. I pinned my hair the way she used to, as a tear slid down my cheek.

  I missed both my parents. I had not seen my father since that Sunday morning when the crows broke into the shop, over a week ago. When will I get the chance again?

  Stepping gingerly on the wobbly little heels, I went out into the crisp air of early evening. Tonight, the camp was alive. People were stoking fires, skewering meat for roasting, sharpening weapons, or gathering animals from the nearby pastures.

  I saw Khan in the distance, talking to a group of young men, and headed over. He glanced up as I approached, then snapped his head back again and watched me, his mouth hanging open. The other boys smiled and removed their hats.

  “Who are you?” Khan asked. “And what have you done with my friend Avery?”

  Heat rose to my cheeks. I’d always tried so hard to be inconspicuous. The attention was unnerving. “My clothes are being washed. These are Katalina’s. Are we going to see the guard?” When he didn’t answer and continued to stare, I said, “Khan, stop acting like a simpleton.”

  He smiled, turning to the Romany boys. “Excuse me, gentlemen. The lady needs my assistance.”

  He held out his arm for me, bowing his head.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake . . .” I rolled my eyes but took his arm, as I did need help navigating in these heels. “Khan, be serious. Spector found my house and where I work. Who’s to say he won’t come here next?”

  “Apparently, Mr. Moralis thought of that. He’s already started sending people to their other camp. Luckily, even this one is pretty remote. Most people presume it’s all swamps out here.”

  Katalina hustled over, taking my other arm. “I figured you for basic black, yes?”

  “It’s a bit snug.” I fumbled with the dress, trying to cover up my cleavage. Katalina’s waist was tiny in comparison to mine.

  She lifted an eyebrow. “You hide behind your boy’s disguise. Be proud of who you are. You look beautiful.”

  Why can’t I look beautiful in whatever I choose to wear? I smiled, though, knowing Katalina meant well. “Maybe when women’s clothing is considerably more comfortable.”

  Katalina laughed. “Are you feeling better?” she asked.

  “I’m fine, thank you. How’s Geeno?”

  “He will be all right,” she said. “Come, there are people we must see.”

  “Is it the guard?” I asked.

  “Not yet.” Katalina led us toward the center of camp. At twilight, the camp took on a magical feel. It reminded me of the Midsummer’s Eve festival. The branches of a grand oak in the distance glittered with candles hung in mason jars. It was eerily beautiful, like flocks of lightning bugs.

  Katalina pointed to two boys sitting under the tree. “Your friends came to find you. Meet Khan and me at the dock when you are through.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Neither could they. As one, Tony and Leo stopped talking and stared at me.

  Then they jumped up, wiping off their trousers. Leo spoke first. “Ave, I almost didn’t recognize you without your work duds. You look nice.”

  “Thanks, Leo. It’s good to see you. Any luck finding employment?”

  He shook his head.

  “What are you both doing here?”

  Tony cleared his throat. “You won’t believe me when I tell you what happened this morning. I got your messag
e first thing. The runner was waiting for me at the factory. About an hour after we arrived, the police rushed into the Works and shut us down.” His eyes opened wide, as if he still couldn’t believe it. “They questioned everyone, then told us all to go home until further notice. Mr. Malice has gone missing, and they suspect foul play.”

  I swallowed hard, but kept my mouth shut. I did not want to involve the boys in anything. The less they know, the better.

  He continued, “We heard there was blood on some of the equipment.”

  I cringed, thinking of Bessie’s blast.

  Tony ran his hands through his hair. “I found Leo at his home. We wanted to check on Geeno and Oscar. How are they doing?”

  I hated to lie to them. “Geeno has a fever. He’ll be fine. But I don’t think we should disturb him. Oscar is still very ill, too.”

  “All right,” Tony sighed. “I’ve got to get back anyway, in case the House of Refuge finds out the Works shut down and wonders where I am. Thanks for taking care of them, Avery. Tell them we stopped by. Us weld rats have to look out for each other, right?”

  It felt horrible, but once again, I had to lie. If I told them what was going on, they would want to help, especially Tony. It broke my heart to do this, but I saw no other way. “Listen, I’m glad you’re here. You should know that I won’t be coming into work for a while. I want to help nurse Geeno and Oscar back to health, and there’s some . . . some trouble with my mother that I must deal with.”

  There. At least it wasn’t too far from the truth. I squeezed my lips together, not wanting to cry. But there was no stopping the tears. I felt my throat tighten and closed my eyes as they watered up.

  Neither spoke, but Leo came over and hugged me tight.

  “I’ll come see you just as soon as I can.” The sound of my words rang hollow in my ears. I placed my hands on Leo’s tight curls. My stomach felt hollow. “I’m sure the authorities will sort everything out. The Works will reopen soon enough.” Maybe this would prevent the strike from happening next week. I hoped so; I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.

  Tony nodded solemnly. From the corner of my eye, I saw Hurricane approaching with the old box containing the crystal.

  “Hello, Hurricane. These are my friends Tony and Leo. Boys, this is Miss . . .” I turned back to Hurricane. “Do you go by Miss Torre, like your grandfather?”

  Her cheeks reddened, and she looked down at her feet. In a hushed voice, she said, “No, just Hurricane.” Tony was the one to get past the awkward moment. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Hurricane,” he said.

  Leo beamed.

  She peeked up at them, her pale blue eyes sparkling through her white lashes like sunlight on the river.

  Then Tony turned toward Leo. “Come on. If we can’t see Oscar or Geeno, we should head out.”

  I hugged Leo again, and then Tony. I whispered in his ear, “Tony, don’t bring him back here. It’s too dangerous.”

  I felt him stiffen. “All right, Avery. But please send for me if you need anything—anything at all.”

  My stomach churned as I watched them leave. It was for the best, but I felt like I was losing yet another part of my family.

  When they disappeared into the woods, Hurricane handed me the box. “Mr. Moralis said to give you this. What is it?”

  “It’s a sacred relic. But I have no idea what to do with it.”

  She stared off in the direction the boys had gone. “I wish I had nice friends like that.”

  “Hurricane, I’m sure there are boys and girls here that would love to be your friend.”

  She tilted her head. “I don’t think so. They’re leery of me. Katalina is the only one who talks to me. Or, she used to.”

  I did not miss the implication that it was my fault Katalina spent less time with her of late. But I let it go. “Don’t give up, Hurricane,” I said softly. “You have to open yourself up so other people can get to know you.”

  As soon as I said it, though, I thought, I’m a hypocrite. Apparently, I’d spent my whole childhood burying part of myself without even realizing it. If I hadn’t been so afraid of being like my mother, I could have learned about her visions earlier. My behavior must’ve hurt my mother terribly. Again, I pictured her in the Tombs, her glassy eyes, the blood on her arm. I just hope I get a chance to make it right.

  Hurricane and I continued to the dock in time to see Khan off as he departed. I was told I could stay in an unused caravan near the apothecary, close to Geeno. Katalina and Hurricane accompanied me through the camp. The waxing moon, almost full, gave the surrounding trees a silvery cast.

  “If you need more clothing, there are some garments inside,” Katalina said. “I told the herb doctor where to find you if your friend Geeno wakes, and I will have your belongings sent to you when they are clean. Get a good night’s sleep, Avery. Tomorrow we must finish packing up the camp in case the crows come looking for their own. We have sent scouts to warn us at the first sign of them. Khaniferre will get off work early and return to help.”

  “Katalina, has the guard awoken yet? He looked very badly injured.”

  “No. But if he does not wake on his own, we will use salts. He will talk to us tomorrow. There is no time to waste.” She swiped her hand through the air. “Bah! Here we are, nursing our enemy back to health when we should be burying him along with the other one. It sickens me.”

  Hurricane opened the door and lit a lantern inside, then they left me by the steps of a tiny but ornately painted bow-top wagon. When I entered, it took my breath away.

  The Gypsies were truly the most artistic, creative individuals I’d ever known. Here was a storage wagon with a spare bunk for visitors, and it was decorated as if they were expecting Queen Victoria herself to stop by. One side had built-in drawers of dark polished wood with gold inlay; the other had orange velvet benches flanking a potbelly stove backed by a wall of colorful mosaic tiles. All the walls and the ceiling were painted bright red with gold accents. And in the rear, red velvet curtains were swagged over a plush bed piled high with colorful pillows and quilts. They will have to pry me out of here with a crowbar.

  I sat on one of the benches and carefully removed the long crystal from its container. I held it in the flickering glow. A fractured rainbow of light bounced around the little room as I turned the crystal in my hands. Although the effect was dazzling, the crystal held no special power that I could see or feel. Discouraged, I put it away.

  There was a knock on the door. When I opened it, a small bundle sat on the steps. Inside was all of my clothing, cleaned and pressed, and—thank goodness—my boots. My feet ached from walking in Katalina’s heeled shoes all evening. I laid out my corset, knife, necklace, and coat and opened the top drawer on the left. Wrapped in tissue paper were delicate dresses of every color. Another drawer contained tights and shifts. I tried the right side and found what I was looking for: a pair of sturdy wool britches, without holes like mine, a clean white muslin shirt to wear under my corset, and, just to irk Katalina, a man’s fedora. At the last minute, I added a pair of spats to keep my boots clean. Then I changed into a shift and buried myself under the soft pile of quilts on the bed.

  I couldn’t get the image of Mr. Malice falling into Bessie out of my mind, or the horrible scene that had led up to his death. A few things struck me as odd. What were the numbers on the wall above the door? And before I’d gone into Malice’s office, he’d been talking to someone on the telephone device. He’d clearly been angry about something to do with the employees—us. He’d said he’d alert the authorities if the person he was talking to did something . . . but what was it they wanted to do?

  What he’d said to Spector echoed in my thoughts: “He sent you?” Who was he referring to? Did someone send Spector to kill Mr. Malice? And if so, why?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Guard

  Morning came too soon. I dressed wearily and headed toward the apothecary, stopping first at a fire to have some breakfast. When I arrived, Geeno
was sitting up, watching a spider spin a web in the corner. “Avery, guess what,” he said. “The herb doctor say he is going to make me a monocle like his. It makes everything look close-up.”

  “Geeno, I’m so happy to see you’re awake. How are you feeling this morning?” I handed him a hot roll.

  “I’m tired, but Oscar looks bad.”

  I glanced toward Oscar’s bunk. “I know, Geeno. They’re letting him sleep so he can heal. I’m glad you’re all right, though. Your pets are probably wondering what’s happened to you.” He looked so small, so pale.

  “I hope they no eat each other.” He smiled, but his smile quickly faded—as if he’d been pretending all along. His eyes met mine searchingly. At that moment he looked older than his nine years. “Avery, is Mr. Malice dead?”

  I sat down next to him and pushed the hair off his forehead. “Yes, Geeno, he is.”

  “Did that bad man do it?”

  I nodded. I’d hoped his memory of the events that brought us here would be foggier.

  “Is he going to come after you?” He laid his head on my chest.

  “He might try, but we’ll be ready, Geeno. Don’t fret. I just need you to worry about getting better, nothing more.” I looked up at the spider. “Have you found some creatures in need of your special services?” I had to keep things light or he’d end up with the same nightmares I’ve had all my life.

  “Our special services. We heal them together.” He closed his eyes and within minutes was fast asleep again.

  I spent the day working alongside the Gypsies. We crated dry goods, gathered firewood, and honed weapons. The rest of the tents were disassembled and packed into wagons. By midday more families had hitched their caravans to their horses and headed out to the camp on Long Island. Katalina told me it was in a beautiful hamlet known as Dick’s Hills, after the founder, Dick Pechegan, and it was very safe, as it was difficult to get to. Lucas and Horatio had gone back to their surveillance of the Tombs. By the time I spotted Khan’s boat pulling up in the late afternoon, I was anxious to speak with the guard. Khan wanted to be there when we questioned him.