The Tombs

by Deborah Schaumberg

  Mr. Moralis’s eyes hardened. “We have learned more about this event Spector is attending on All Hallows’ Eve. That’s only five days from now. The invited guests are strictly men, high-society men, supporters of Spector’s work at the Tombs.” Mr. Moralis poured himself a glass of wine. “Would either of you like one?” He glanced at Khan and me. “You look like you could use it.”

  We shook our heads no. I was already sick to my stomach just discussing Spector.

  Mr. Moralis continued, “Apparently the guests will all wear masks and an insignia—a gold ring, shaped like the claw of a crow. The guards have been told to seize any man entering without the ring. Lemming also said there will be courtesans from the House of the Scarlet Ascot, to entertain the guests.”

  Lucas whistled. “Sounds like some party.”

  Katalina smacked him in the chest. “You think it is nice? Go ask one of those girls what they think, eh? Fool.”

  “I used to know a couple of girls there. They’re tough as nails,” Khan said, then must have realized how it sounded. “But . . . it’s been years since I’ve seen—”

  “I should have known!” Katalina pounced on him before he could finish. “I will be angry with you later, Khaniferre.”

  Khan removed his hat and wiped his forehead. I was not as surprised as Katalina seemed to be by Khan’s disclosure. He told me he knew people in all walks of life.

  “Well, that’s it then.” Lucas ran his hand through his hair. “The guard has not provided us with any useful information.”

  Mr. Moralis began to pace. I could see he was trying to work something out in his head. He stopped and sipped his wine. “There may be a way we can get into that party—one of us, at least. Lemming said he had to go back to collect his pay, then he planned to skip town. Assuming we can trust him enough to let him go, he is going to need his cloak and mask to get back into the Tombs, but we still have the others, belonging to the dead guard. Someone may slip in disguised as a crow-guard.”

  We all registered the same look of surprise. That could work.

  Horatio stepped forward. “I will do it,” he declared.

  Mr. Moralis ran his hand over his long beard, rolling each bead in his fingers like my mother used to do with her rosary. “All right. I don’t like it, but it’s the only way I can think of to learn more. Of course, no one says anything in front of Lemming that might reveal our plan. We don’t know for sure if we can believe him.”

  With that decided, we headed outside, to the smell of game turning on the solitary spit. Khan took my hand, leading me away from the group. We walked along the edge of the shore, the voices of the others fading to a pleasant background sound. My stomach growled, but I knew Khan wanted to talk. I wondered if he knew how much Katalina cared for him, even if she refused to admit it.

  I played with my necklace. I’m sure she’s noticed we are gone.

  We came upon a fallen tree to sit on. The still water of Jamaica Bay mirrored the sky, reflecting each star. It looked like the edge of the world, as if you could jump into the darkness and float among the stars. I picked up a stone and threw it into the water, shattering the illusion, sending ripples twinkling across the surface.

  Khan’s fingers interlaced tightly with mine as though he was afraid to let go. “Are you all right?” he said. “You seem disheartened.”

  I looked up at the night sky. “I feel like I’ve learned so much, Khan, and yet we know nothing of Spector’s purpose. I can’t imagine what we can do to get my mother or Indigo out of the Tombs or to put a stop to Spector’s plans. Mr. Moralis is sure I can’t re-create an explosion.”

  Khan’s thumb grazed the inside of my wrist. “I know.” Then he turned to face me. “What’s it like to see an aura?”

  I wished I could explain it so he could understand. “Lonely,” I said. “Like no one else sees the world as I do. Do you ever feel like an experience isn’t real—no, that’s not the word—like it isn’t authentic, unless you can share it with someone else?”

  “I think so,” he said. “But I want you to try to share it with me. Try to explain it, Avery. It feels as if there’s a part of you that’s a secret, that I don’t know you as completely as I did before.”

  “All right.” I took a deep breath. “When I focus, I see light around every living thing. And with people, at least, the light changes all the time. It’s as though I see their emotions.”

  He shook his head. “Look at me and tell me what you see.”

  “Khan, I don’t know . . . I shouldn’t. Memories come to me. It’s strange.”

  “I don’t care. I want you to. Besides, I’m curious.” He smiled and shifted, as if preparing himself to be studied. I felt as he did in that moment, that we had drifted apart. I missed the time we used to spend together.

  “All right,” I said.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, focusing on my third eye, directing my energy to that spot. “There’s light surrounding us,” I said, opening my eyes and staring at him. “It’s pale, not dark, so I can assume neither of us is angry or heated. From what Katalina tells me, others see auras in many colors, and the colors have different meanings. But what I see is different. I see auras in hues of gray. They change and flow and join with the auras of other living things around them. It’s so hard to explain, Khan.” I looked around. A soft glow surrounded Khan and me. The trees glowed silvery in the moonlight. A fish flashed by like a shooting star. The world shimmered and pulsed with soft, natural energy. Even the ground glowed, every blade of grass outlined with light.

  I breathed it in. I ran my hand over the dandelions crowding the base of the log. The light flowed between my fingers, melding with that of the flowers. It was indescribable. I felt a rift open between Khan and me as I struggled to put my experience into plain words.

  Khan watched me. “You’re right,” he said softly. “I can’t even imagine what it must be like to see that. This Indigo fellow, Katalina’s brother—I suppose he can see it, too?”

  “I suppose.” The light around Khan began to darken. I looked into his eyes and saw what he was remembering: the day after my thirteenth birthday. Khan listening to me while I told him about the boy I’d met. How the boy had disappeared. I’d cried into Khan’s shoulder and he’d put his arms around me, comforting me.

  “Khan, were you jealous?” I blinked, clearing my sight.

  “I didn’t like seeing you hurt.”

  With that, Khan took me in his arms. I nestled into the warmth of his chest, like when we were kids, shielded momentarily from the cold night air. Safe. He pressed his lips to my forehead and murmured, “Avery, my little bird, I talked you into coming here and now I just want you to fly away. Far, far away.” He tilted my chin up. His golden eyes, the color of turmeric spice, searched mine, as if he wanted to see into my soul. Then he slowly pulled my face toward his. I knew he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to. I wanted his mouth, his strong arms, his smooth tattooed muscles touching me. But most of all, I wanted to feel close to him again, the way I used to. The way I did today when we’d held hands.

  Khan’s lips were warm and soft. I closed my eyes, slid my arms around his neck, and kissed him back. He tasted sweet and familiar, his kiss excruciatingly gentle. My heart pounded faster. His hand wove into my hair. His lips moved slowly, parting mine, his tongue lightly teasing. It felt as if all the bottled-up emotion from everything we’d been through was embodied in this one kiss. I wanted to stay in the moment, to let go, but my stomach flipped over, warning me to stop.

  I can’t lose my best friend . . . my oldest friend. He means more to me than this. I pushed gently away.

  I felt his breath on my tingling lips. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know we shouldn’t.” His long lashes brushed my cheek. “It would be impossible for you and me—”

  “Shh.” I pressed my finger to his lips. “Khan, I hope you know that my hesitation has nothing to do with the color—”

  “You don’t need to explain. And trust me, Avery
, I know you better than you know yourself. You are not one to bow to conventions of society. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

  My chest swelled with warmth. Except for my second sight, he did know me so well. I touched my lips to his, a quick kiss, then lifted them in a smile. “I love you too, Khan. But right now I need to focus on one thing—the Tombs.”

  Behind us, I heard the snap of a twig. I sat up. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  I spun around. The woods behind us were thickly layered in dark shadows. My ears strained to hear the footfall of someone stepping stealthily through the leaves. In the distance I heard the Gypsies around the campfire, talking and laughing, the soft nicker of the horses, but the woods were dead quiet.

  My intuition prickled, a stark reminder of the danger closing in on me—crushing me like a corset made of metal.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  House of the Scarlet Ascot

  My sleep was robbed by a dreadful dream. I was at a hellish carnival party and Dr. Spector was the ringmaster. There were cages of grotesquely deformed people in a long mirrored hall, at the end of which was a red curtain, drawn tight. Behind it I heard my mother crying. When I parted the curtain, my hands came away covered in blood, sticky and dark. I ran through and found myself in a shadowed boudoir. There was someone in the bed. As I approached, I saw a flash of tattooed skin. It was Khan—he was under the sheets with a woman.

  I sat up. Sweat dampened my brow. I’d grown used to nightmares, but these shocking illusions made my cheeks flush. I’d never seen a man naked, and to imagine seeing Khan with a woman disturbed me. The feel of Khan’s kiss came back to me, and I touched my lips, remembering.

  Shaking off the strangeness, I draped a wool blanket over my shoulders and set off to find breakfast. As I approached the fire, my heart skipped a beat. Geeno sat on a log, eating porridge. I ran to him. “Geeno! You’re better.” I was about to hug him when I noticed the big eyes of a bug staring at me from the top of his head. “Oh! Don’t those things fly away?”

  “Nope,” he beamed. “They stay with me always.”

  “That’s amazing.” I sat down, scooting a little farther from him just in case. “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better. Avery, I made you a surprise.” He reached into a small burlap sack. “Well, it really for you and Seraphine both.”

  He handed me a small mechanical instrument attached to a leather wrist strap, and a leather hood clearly shaped to fit Seraphine’s head. Unlike the one I already had, this one did not cover her eyes. On top were four tiny gears spinning around a spike of copper.

  “What is it?” I examined the device on the wrist strap: a set of interlocking gears and a hand above a dial, though it didn’t show time. The face was that of a compass.

  “You wear this.” He buckled it onto my wrist. “And Seraphine wears the hood. It shows you always where Seraphine is, even if she far away.”

  “Geeno, are you certain?” I could tell by his proud smile he was. “How does it work?”

  “The dial point to her when she have her hood on. It uses magnets. Look.” He placed the hood on two of his fingers and ran around, waving his arm as if he were flying. I looked down; sure enough, the little needle followed him wherever he went.

  “Geeno, I don’t know how to thank you. When did you have time to make this?”

  “Your father helped me get it started. It was in the things you brought back. I plan to give it to you the other night—I know how much you love Seraphine.”

  I shook off the blanket. “Come here, my little inventor.” I picked him up and swung him around in a circle, not even caring about the bug clinging desperately to his hair. “One day we must show my father that it works. He will be as delighted as I am.” It was then that I noticed the apothecary cart was gone. “Geeno, when did the herb doctor leave? Why didn’t you go with him?”

  “He left early this morning. He wanted me to go, but I told him I wanted to stay with you.”

  I hugged him close. “Thank you, Geeno, but I wish you hadn’t done that. It would’ve been safer for you to leave.”

  I left Geeno by the fire, my fingers fishing for Father’s Union pin strung on my necklace. I missed him. He would be so proud of Geeno. The chill of the morning held fast, and by late afternoon, a light snow had begun to flake down from the sky. The caravans that were left seemed leeched of their bright colors, as if the world were fading.

  Even Katalina dressed in dull gray as we worked side by side brushing down a horse. She asked me if I was feeling better. “I noticed you and Khaniferre were quiet when you finally joined us at the campfire last night.”

  “Oh, were you looking for us?”

  “No, I ate with my father before you arrived. Father is as disappointed as I am with our progress. When I saw Khaniferre this morning, he said you were upset last night.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, but I couldn’t meet her eyes. “I was. I’d hoped we’d learn more from the guard, and I’m terrified for both my mother and my father. Khan wanted to talk; he worries about me.”

  “Did he say anything about me?” She bit her lip.

  “He’s concerned for us both.” I did not want to give Katalina false hopes about Khan’s feelings, not when she clearly cared for him—and deeply. She sulked away.

  I spent time working with Hurricane. With her encouragement, I tried holding the crystal, rubbing its smooth surface, talking to it, but nothing had any effect. It was just cold quartz in my hands. When Hurricane left, I sat on the steps of my temporary lodging, my hands in front of me. I focused until white light surrounded them. I didn’t think I would ever tire of seeing this beauty, or of the feeling of connection it sent through me. But what I wanted right now was to be able to re-create the explosion I’d caused. Even though Mr. Moralis said it was not possible, it was the one thing I felt could actually help us. I tried building up the energy; I tried throwing it outward. Nothing worked.

  Katalina returned with a new bounce in her step. “Come with me,” she whispered. “I want to show you something.”

  I followed her to her caravan. Once inside, she locked the door behind us. On the bed were two beautiful wigs, one blond, one red. “My mother was fond of wigs. I dug these out of her trunks.”

  “Why, Katalina?” I sat down, curious to find out what was going on.

  “Just hear me out.” She held her hands up as if expecting me to run—which made me want to. “When I spoke with Khaniferre, I also questioned him about his friends from the House of the Scarlet Ascot,” she said, emphasizing the word friends. “He swore they were not love interests, but he did mention their names. I have sent one of our runners to deliver a calling card to them. I introduced myself as Isabella Moore, acquaintance of Khaniferre Soliman. I told them I, and a friend, have interest in joining the house, and to expect us at their place of residence on October thirty-first. I am counting on them needing as many girls as possible for the party. Other than having to bribe the little runner to help me write the note in English, it is a brilliant plan, yes?”

  I knew Katalina’s reading and writing were poor, but now I knew she was also crazy. “What are you talking about? Expecting us . . . ?”

  “You and I will meet these girls and go with them. Avery, do you not see? This is our only chance to find out what Spector is doing, and to discover those supporting him.” She put her hands on her hips. “We must go to that party! In disguise, of course—red for me, blond for you.” She pointed to the wigs.

  I jumped up. “You’re mad! Your father will never allow it.” It was a preposterous idea!

  “No one will know, except Horatio, of course, and he is afraid of me. I swore him to secrecy. Besides, he will be there with us should anything go awry.”

  A hollow feeling opened up in my stomach. “Katalina, these girls are prostitutes. What if . . . you know . . .”

  She let out a long sigh. “Men like window dressing at their parties. The houses show off the
ir girls, let them flirt and tease, but that is it. After all, they want the men to come back for more—and pay for it. You have four days to decide. If you will not come with me, I will go alone. The day after the party, my father will move the rest of us to the camp on Long Island. We will never get another opportunity like this. At least accompany me to Rosalinda’s today when I buy a dress,” she pleaded.

  I couldn’t let her go alone, and I needed a distraction. My mind was a stew of jitters. I fretted, gnawing at my nails while Katalina told her father she and I needed to get some womanly supplies for the journey and we would hasten back. “We will go straight to Rosalinda’s,” she explained. “Horatio will accompany us, to keep us safe.”

  That afternoon Geeno ran down to the dock to see us off. I squeezed him to me. He tilted his head back and said, “Can’t I come with you? I don’t want to stay here alone.”

  “You’re not alone, Geeno. Hurricane is here, and Mr. Moralis. They’ll look after you. I’ll be back before you know it.” Hurricane had refused to go to Long Island without Katalina. Maybe she and Geeno would become friends if they were stuck here together.

  He blinked, holding back tears. “Hurricane doesn’t talk.”

  “She’s shy, but she’s very sweet. Give her a chance—she’ll come around. You know what? I need your help. Seraphine also hates it when I leave. Will you look after her for me?” I reached into my pack and pulled out the leather glove. “She’s heavy. Do you think you can hold her?”

  Geeno nodded excitedly. I whistled, and Seraphine flew toward us from a nearby tree.

  “Hold up your arm, Geeno.” I slid my glove over his hand and forearm—a little big, but it would still protect him. Seraphine reached out with her thick claws, landing gracefully on his arm. He stroked her back while I secured the hood over her eyes.

  “You right, she heavy,” he said, giggling.

  “See that field over there?” I pointed to a clearing in the trees at the far end of camp. “Take her there and you can watch her hunt.”