The Tombs

by Deborah Schaumberg

  “Sir, will you please remove your wallet from your pocket?” Mr. Wayne, the monitor, a seemingly playful man, grinned.

  Mr. Booth turned to him. “Yes,” he answered. Is he just playing along? I wondered, as he pulled out a leather wallet.

  Mr. Wayne spoke again. “Now, if you will, please distribute all of your money to those men there.” He pointed at the gaping faces.

  Mr. Booth plodded over and began handing out a considerable amount of cash. When it was gone, he turned to the monitor as if awaiting orders.

  The men laughed and cheered. “Make him do something else.”

  Mr. Wayne, quite pleased with his role, nodded. “Sir, please give us a round of the polka.”

  The portly Mr. Booth bowed and held out his arms as if he were paired with a woman. He began to dance on his toes in a sprightly manner, clicking his heels in a dandy display of the polka.

  The room erupted into laughter as he twirled around. It was frightful. Now I knew exactly how Spector had compelled Mr. Malice into committing suicide.

  Boggs summoned two crow-guards. “Please find Mr. Booth a comfortable place to wait until the serum wears off.” As they led the volunteer away, Boggs turned to the men in the room. “Now do you believe? But unfortunately, I am going to ask you to return Mr. Booth’s money.” He chuckled, then his voice grew serious again. “Gentlemen, I’m sure you are all familiar with the mesmerists popular at the salons. Well, as you have witnessed here today, my experiments have produced a scientific and physical kind of mesmerism. Today we used an increased dosage, and we realize not all employees will drink every day, but they will no longer be able to band together, to unify. We will, in effect, temper the flame, not snuff it out. It is for the workers’ own good that we put an end to the unrest.” He paused to let his words sink in. “Not only will we save money—we will save lives!”

  Murmurs of agreement spread through the men like a virus. They jumped from their seats, applauding loudly.

  I leaned toward Katalina so she could hear me. “Bloody hell, Katalina, they’re going to poison the water!”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Delmonico’s Steak Knives

  Katalina’s eyes were wide as she gripped my arm. “Spector has been experimenting with the seers. What do you suppose is in that serum?”

  “I don’t know. If we could get the vial, we could bring it to the herb doctor, but Boggs pocketed it.” My mind scrambled to understand. These greedy men planned to overpower the commoners—the poor, the immigrant workers, their own employees—to take away their free will.

  I gazed around the room, bewildered. The standing ovation had morphed into animated conversation. They all wanted to talk with the larger-than-life Ogden Boggs. They were like dogs, and his mesmerizing serum, bloody meat. Some were already taking out banknotes to show their support.

  Just then I recalled the conversation I overheard Roland Malice having. It was surely about this. He’d argued, saying he wouldn’t do it. And he was murdered. Did Boggs send Spector to kill him? Or what if—the thought was almost too horrible to imagine—what if his own father, Tyber Malice, had him killed? He’d drugged Roland to make him lose a fight, but would he resort to murder?

  “We have to get out of here. Now,” I whispered, hand covering my mouth.

  While Boggs mingled with his patrons, Katalina and I made our way toward the exit. Loud and lively dance music started up, and the party roared back to life. I pressed my palm to my thumping heart. The people moving about would help to shield us. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a crow-guard following us.

  “Act natural,” I whispered to Katalina. “We’re being watched.”

  She laughed as if I’d said something funny and took my arm in hers. I felt the guard coming closer, felt him reach out and put his hand on my shoulder. I froze.

  “I’ll go stand by the door. Come in a few minutes so I can let you out.” Horatio. He swept by us, his long cloak billowing around him.

  A few minutes was too long for me, but we moved slowly so as not to attract attention. I glanced over my shoulder, hoping Mr. Bartholomew was nowhere near.

  There was one crow-guard at the left of the entrance already. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Horatio position himself on the right, folding his arms across his chest.

  “Katalina, I just thought of something. If I can get a sample of the water in the fountain, maybe it can be tested. Go tell Horatio. I’ll be right back.”

  “No,” she murmured, “we must stick together.” But I’d already stepped away, and she had no choice but to keep going.

  As I headed toward the fountain, I caught a glimpse, between couples waltzing, of two men in conversation. The large one looked oddly familiar. I had an intuitive feeling that his identity was important.

  As I edged nearer, he turned in my direction. Damn those masks. Who is he? I had to get closer. With the curtained wall to my back, I angled to get a better view. I heard them talking.

  “—unfortunate Norman got arrested,” said the small piggish-looking man.

  The large one guffawed. “Bale’s a fool for getting caught. The Commerce League can do nothing for him now. It’s befitting we sacrifice him to mollify the masses.”

  I couldn’t believe it. The rapist and murderer of two young girls had been a member of this club.

  “Ah well,” said the small one. “I’m terribly sorry about the disappearance of your son. Have you received any new information?”

  The other patted his massive gut, chuckling. “I’m afraid Roland was a bit of a boozer. Could have fallen off the docks, for all I know.”

  The other man looked as shocked as I felt. I knew why I recognized the big man—I’d seen his photograph in the perch. It was Tyber Malice. Roland Malice had his faults, but I’d never, ever seen him drink. Tyber was lying. There was no doubt in my mind he was the one who had sent Spector to murder his son.

  My mouth dropped open as I stumbled back. I tripped over my dress and collided with a blind waiter, knocking his tray to the floor. His hand flew up, catching in my wig, and the next thing I knew he pulled it from my head.

  Someone gripped my arm, steadying me. “Grace!” Sadie-Mae hissed. “Your name most certainly does not suit you. Put yourself back together before you cause a scene.”

  Behind me, I heard a voice that stilled the blood in my veins. “Her name is not Grace.”

  Sadie-Mae and I both spun around. He’d materialized right out of the shadows.

  Sadie-Mae surprised me by squaring her shoulders and holding her arms out to the side, as if to protect me, but then again, she might have been embarrassed and wanted only to hide me. “My apologies, Dr. Spector, sir. She is new and a bit clumsy.”

  He smiled—the same smile as when he’d spoken to me in my mother’s room at the Tombs. I clenched my teeth as a shiver snaked up my neck. “Either way, she is coming with me. Now, step aside or you will be very, very sorry.” He nodded to a nearby crow-guard. Sadie-Mae gave me a mortified look, then rushed over to a group of her girls that had gathered to watch.

  I caught Katalina’s eye—she and Horatio were ready and waiting. I pushed past Spector and tried to run, but a pair of strong arms grabbed me from behind. The guard’s grip was solid and unyielding—I could barely breathe. Pulse racing, I concentrated hard, focusing until I saw Spector’s dark shadow. It enveloped him, its tendrils oozing out like creosote oil between railroad ties.

  “Another alias, I see.” His voice, like nails on a chalkboard, raked down my spine. “I watched you, when you were young. You never showed any sign of possessing ability, but still I suspected you weren’t ordinary. You refused to unleash it, didn’t you, Avery? You did not want to be like your mother, am I correct?”

  Up close, his face was even more frightening—waxy white skin, thin red lips, greasy hair pushed back on his head. At the mention of my mother, I felt the walls closing in, crushing me.

  He tilted his head, studying me. “Your mother is as helpless an
d pitiful as you are.”

  I had to keep trying. I stared hard at Spector. Our eyes locked. He licked his lips and stared back at me, his thick black energy impassive. I saw no visions, nothing to help me alter the dark cloud swirling around him. Why? I wished I could cause another explosion right now.

  “You cannot use your tricks on me,” Spector said calmly. “I have discovered a way to block deceptive creatures such as yourself.”

  Everything seemed to happen at once then. Delilah recognized me and rushed over to help. I looked past Spector to Katalina and saw her spin around, swiping something off the table behind her. In that moment, I knew she intended to kill Spector. I prayed her aim was true. But Spector followed my gaze. As Katalina raised her arm, he seized Delilah and hid behind her.

  He howled, “Stop that whore!”

  Katalina hesitated. We both knew she had no clear shot of Spector.

  “Go!” I shrieked. She raced for the door. I watched her energy blazing out like a trail behind her. Her arm swung as she ran. Two steak knives flew from her fingertips, embedding deeply into the chest of the guard next to Horatio. Leaping back, Horatio shoved open the door just as Katalina hurtled toward him. She killed him. She actually killed him. I saw dark veins slash across Katalina’s energy the moment the guard died.

  “After them!” Spector shouted.

  But the heavy door slammed shut; they were gone. The stabbed crow fell, his body conveniently blocking passage. Blood pooled onto the white marble floor. A moment ticked by, and then one of Sadie’s girls, a petite redhead, let out a scream and collapsed in a faint.

  The other crows rushed forward, and I hoped that by the time they pulled the body aside, Katalina and Horatio would have disappeared into the fog.

  My father’s training kicked into gear. I had a split second to act. I jammed the heel of my shoe into the top of the guard’s boot. He jerked back, releasing me. I whirled, reeling back my fist, and punched him squarely in the throat. He doubled over, his mask hitting my chest. I felt a stab of pain from the steel tip of his beak puncturing my skin. I cried out as another guard clutched my arms, pinning them to my side.

  “Help me!” I wailed. “Don’t let him take me!” The girls shrank away in fear for themselves, and the men in their bizarre masks ignored me, shaking their heads. After all, I was a disobedient harlot. I tried to catch someone’s eye; maybe I could convince someone to help me by using my second sight. But no one would even look at me.

  Sadie-Mae shooed the girls back into the party, all except Mercy and Delilah. Delilah sobbed, having been thrown to the floor by Spector, as Mercy tried to calm her. Sadie-Mae faced them, nostrils flaring. “I will deal with the two of you later.”

  Spector advanced on me, so close I inhaled his antiseptic odor. I opened my mouth to scream, but he jabbed a needle into my vein.

  The sound of the party was muffled in my ears; all except the tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the foyer, its pendulum slicing back and forth like a blade preparing to slit my throat.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Inside the Tombs

  My lashes were crusted, my lids heavy. I opened my eyes to a dim room, its stone walls absorbing what little light seeped from the flickering overhead bulbs.

  How did I get here? I tried to sit up, but a strap around my chest held me tight. Straining my neck, I saw that my hands and feet were tied to the metal side rails of a hospital bed. My clothing had been replaced with drab gray woven pants, a long-sleeved gray tunic, and gray socks. Clearly my mother’s white flowered gowns were another part of Spector’s hospital illusion.

  “Help.” My voice was a hoarse whisper.

  The door stayed shut. My head fell back on the pillow, tears trickling down my cheeks.

  I must have fallen asleep. When I opened my eyes again, there was a wheeled cart next to the bed. On it was a tray of food, a brown stewy mass leaking into a glop of mashed potatoes and what was once probably a carrot, wilted over the edge of the dish. A spoon and tin cup sat beside the metal plate. The chest strap had been removed, as well as the tie on my right hand. The ones on my feet and other hand were replaced with metal rings, which were locked onto the side rails.

  I pushed myself shakily up on one arm. My body felt weak, depleted. Given my restraints, I could do no more than sit up or lie back down. I didn’t think I’d have the strength to get out of the bed anyway. My stomach growled; my throat was parched. But I would not touch the stuff on that tray.

  Still foggy, I tried to re-create the events of the masquerade. Everything had fallen apart. Spector had drugged me. Katalina and Horatio had escaped, I hoped. I remembered her killing the guard and the dark energy that’d blighted her own. Had she felt it? Did she know she’d scarred her own spirit? I knew I’d been right—our energy was shared. We were all part of the same universal energy.

  And what of my mother? Was she still alive? A gripping pressure squeezed my mind as the questions battered it. Had word gotten to my father that I’d been captured? Khan must know, and he would surely have seen to that. I could only imagine the anguish it would bring to my father. I missed him terribly. I almost hoped they had kept my mother drugged the past three years. How else could she have survived? My mind would’ve snapped. Now that Spector knew of our fake names, it was too dangerous for my father to visit either of us. He could not help my mother. He can’t help me. I am totally alone.

  I glanced again at the tray. Maybe just a sip of water. A chemical taste lingered on my tongue, turning my stomach. I swished the liquid around in my mouth and spit it on the floor, then drank a few sips.

  The room was smaller than the one I’d seen my mother in, but it smelled the same, like bleach and mildew. The stone walls arched up to a vaulted ceiling above my head. In front of me was a rusty metal door with a square glass window. One wall was covered, floor to ceiling, with a swarm of corroded pipes. They coiled around each other, looping and twisting, and disappeared like snakes into the stone on each side. Aside from a metal clock with a wire cage over its face and a bent pendulum hanging from it, which scraped the wall behind it, the room was barren. I listened. There was no sound except for pings and drips within the pipes and the clock’s pendulum scratching a cold smile into the stone.

  Pulling the blanket up to my neck, I stared at the ceiling. The hulking tonnage above pressed down on me, squeezing the air from my lungs. This room was a crypt, a tomb. I laughed at the irony. I was buried alive in a tomb. I finally understood the true meaning of the hospital’s name—the Tombs. A burning sensation rose from the pit of my stomach up into my throat. My body trembled, causing my breath to come in shallow gulps.

  I will go mad in here.

  When the panicky feeling passed, tears slid from my eyes. How could I be so stupid? I thought I could free my mother. I’d believed I had the ability to help people. I can’t even help myself. I should’ve listened to my father and stayed far away from the Tombs and anyone associated with this horrific place. I clenched my teeth against the shiver inside my body.

  The party proved Ogden Boggs had support for his monstrous plan and plenty of interest in Dr. Spector’s vile serum. I only hoped that Katalina told Khan everything, so he could warn Tony and the other employees at the Works.

  At the sound of footsteps, my eyes snapped to the small window. Someone was coming. The darkness outside the door was punctuated by light that brightened and faded as if a lantern was swinging down the hall. A glow appeared beneath the door. A key in the lock; the squeal of metal. I pretended to sleep.

  Through my lashes, I watched a woman in the familiar long white buttoned coat and nurse’s hat approach the bed. She wore dark goggles over her eyes. Placing the lantern on the cart, she said, “Aw, honey, you got to eat. How else are you going to get well?” Her voice was soft.

  She lifted my wrist and took my pulse, scribbling something on a pad. Her hands were warm. Then she adjusted the blanket, smoothing it neatly over my body. “Tsk, tsk, look at this.” She massaged my
ankles and pulled my socks up, so the metal rings did not chafe my skin.

  Maybe I could trust her. I slowly opened my eyes.

  “Well, hello there, sleepyhead.” She smiled. She looked to be older than my mother, her brown hair pinned into a neat bun behind her nurse’s hat. The snug uniform did not flatter her plump figure, and the goggles looked out of place, but her smile was kind.

  “Hello—” My voice was like gravel. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Hello, ma’am.”

  “Hello, Miss . . .” She glanced at her pad. “Avery Kohl. Lovely name. Are you cold, honey? You’re shivering.” She pulled another blanket from the lower shelf of the cart and laid it over me. “My name is Mrs. Luckett.”

  I shook my head. “Please, there’s been a mistake. I must get out of here.”

  She smiled again. “It’s all right, honey. Don’t be afraid. We’ll have you well again just as soon as can be.” She scratched her cheek where the goggles pressed against it. “Bet you want to get back to school and your friends, now, don’t you?”

  “No, you don’t understand.” I tried to push myself up again. She placed her hand gently but firmly on my shoulder.

  “Now, now. You shouldn’t exert yourself, dear.”

  My voice came out louder than I’d intended. “Stop! Let me out of here.”

  She was unfazed. “This is normal, dear. You’re probably disoriented, but you want to get well, don’t you? You have to rest.” She pushed me back down, and I was too weak to struggle. “I’ll give you a little something to help you calm yourself.” She took a brass syringe from one of the pouches on her belt.

  “No!” I screamed. “Do not give me that!”

  “Come now.” Putting the needle on the cart, she pulled a long piece of fabric from another pouch. Although I tried to wriggle away, she whipped it expertly around my free wrist, securing my arm to the rail. “I’m sorry about the restraints, truly I am, but it’s for your own good.” She flicked her finger on the inside of my elbow.