I took a step back from the workbench. I had to remember that Mr. Gentry was not only loony but also potentially dangerous. I hope I can trust him.
“Sally and I have been busy, too, yes sirree. We have good news and we have bad news.” Mr. Gentry picked up Pepper as he spoke, absently running his hands over the metal feathers. “We know where they are keeping this Gypsy boy, but we have seen neither hide nor hair of the one you call Hurricane or the other. But you tell me you need to bust out, hightail it, yes, fly the coop, as they say.” Mr. Gentry bounced on his toes, smiling. “Sally and I saw many things.” He tapped the hefty lens on his head. “Yes we did, and we saw something that might be of interest to you. It may indeed be possible for you to escape. But you’ll only get one chance, Miss Avery, and if you fail, then you will be stuck here forever, just like me.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Rats
The day stretched into an eternity. If what Mr. Gentry had said was true, there was no way to escape before the twelfth. I would have to go through with another of Dr. Spector’s bloodlettings and bend myself to his dark experiments, whatever they were. Just thinking about it made my skin crawl.
It occurred to me that Dr. Spector had probably done the same thing to my mother, considering her bruises. Anger surged through me, but there was nothing I could do for the moment except practice my second sight.
I drifted off to sleep in the afternoon and woke at night in a panic, feeling like I’d dreamt up Mr. Gentry, his greenhouse, everything. But the welding burns on two of my fingertips convinced me he was real.
The clock struck midnight. With my lantern and string and piece of pipe, I plunged back into the tunnels. Turn left, then second right, I recited to myself, carefully following Mr. Gentry’s directions. They led to the back of a grate, much like the one in my room.
Peering through the slots, I recognized him instantly. His wavy brown hair had grown thicker and longer. He wore a black shirt, open to his waist, above worn leather pants. I thought it strange he was not in prison garb. He was incredibly lean, with sinewy muscles along his arms and stomach. Even from this distance, the raised white skin of his brand stood out on his chest: the brand of the crow. One of his legs had an iron cuff on it, attached to a chain that snaked across the room.
The area at the top of my stomach, where all my butterflies lived, tightened and twisted. I hadn’t seen him in three years. What if he doesn’t remember me?
Indigo sat among a semicircle of rats. The animals crouched while one of their number, a skinny black rat, stood on its hind legs, parading about like royalty. The scene reminded me of when I’d first met Indigo and he’d made the lady from the audience dance. It was so bizarre that I gasped, then quickly covered my mouth.
“What’s this?” he asked. “Is one of my rat friends afraid to come closer?” He stared at the grate. After a moment, he said, “I see Dr. Spector is still gathering seers. I’d hoped he’d never capture you, Avery. But you should not have come to find me.”
He knows it’s me. He must’ve sensed my energy.
Indigo waved his hand, and the rats withdrew. He bowed his head, hair falling in front of his face. “If you knew what was good for you, you’d go away and pretend you never saw me.”
“Indigo, there might be a way to escape. We have to get out of here before it’s too late.” I put my feet against the grate and pushed. It wouldn’t budge. “I have a tool to open this grate, but you have to do it from your side.”
But Indigo did not move. “I’ll never get out. I’m a monster, Avery. I deserve this.” His eyes flicked toward me, then back at the floor. There was hatred in them, but it was directed inward. “I’ve done terrible things,” he whispered, so low I could barely hear him.
“Please just open the grate and let me in.”
“No, Avery, it’s too dangerous. I’m too dangerous.”
“Indigo, please. When Spector took you, he took my mother, too. She’s been in here as long as you have. And he has Hurricane; he kidnapped her recently. We have to stop him. But I need your help.”
Indigo looked up, his radiant eyes catching the light. Their pained expression made my heart constrict. He shifted forward and stood. The chain grated on the floor as he came closer. I stuck the pipe through the bars.
“Use the edge. It worked on mine.”
He took the pipe, deftly removed the screws, and swung open the grate. Immediately, he backed away from me and sat down on the floor.
I climbed out of the tunnel, wiping the dirt off my hands and knees. I did not want him to know it, but I was afraid.
The tension in the room was solid, like we were on opposite sides of thick glass that could shatter at any moment. Inching closer, I sat down cautiously, slowly. Indigo’s shoulders remained hunched, his hands in his lap. I studied him more carefully. He’d grown up from the boy I remembered. Even with him looking down, I could tell his face was leaner, and I noticed a scar cut across one eyebrow.
I wanted to tell him that anything he’d done wasn’t his fault. Why would he think of himself as dangerous? But not knowing where to start, I simply took his hand in mine. The moment we touched, a surge went through me. I felt thirteen again. He finally lifted his head, searching my face. Our eyes met, and in that moment, I understood that there was a bond between us that defied explanation. I knew in my heart that he felt it, too. I bit my lip, my insides squirming under his open gaze. His full lips were devoid of their self-mocking grin.
The next moment, he ripped his hand from mine and pushed himself away. Standing, he turned his back to me. The startled rats looked up at him from their huddle on the floor.
“Leave!” he shouted. “Get out of here! Before I hurt you, too.”
I didn’t know if he was speaking to the rats or me, but we all jumped up as one. The rats darted away—some dove into the tunnel, some disappeared into cracks. In seconds they were gone. I backed up to the tunnel, tears springing to my eyes. I couldn’t think of what to say or do.
“Go!” The coldness of his voice shot through me. “What are you waiting for, Avery? I can’t help you. I don’t want you here!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Painting
Like one of the rats, I scurried away from Indigo, blinded by my tears and the swirl of emotions battering my brain. I crawled under my covers into a tight fetal position, afraid my heart was going to rupture and bleed out. The shock of Indigo’s outburst burned inside me as if I’d swallowed a hot coal. My pillow soaked through with my tears, but I didn’t care. I cried like I did the night I’d gone back to the Gypsy camp and found Indigo gone. I cried for my mother, locked somewhere in this hell. I cried for my father, who’d lost my mother and now me.
I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even sleep. I’d allowed myself to get my hopes up, to think I might rescue my mother and the others with the help of a crazy old man and a copper parrot. Stupid.
Once again, my day passed in a blur. At some point, after the tick-tocking of the clock took me deep into the night, I heard something scratching in the corner of the room. A rat? Whatever it was, it didn’t go away. It kept scratching and scratching; now it was squeaking, too.
“Shoo.” I waved my hand. It squeaked again. I rolled over and lifted the lantern.
There, by the grate, was a black rat. It held something in its teeth. I sat up and watched, amazed, as it dropped its burden and ran back into the tunnel.
Tiptoeing over, I picked it up. It was a piece of canvas that looked like it had been chewed around the edges. On it was a note:
Avery,
I’m sorry. Please come back.
Indy
I read it in disbelief. He expected me to literally crawl back to him? Why? So he can cut my heart out and feed it to his rats? I never wanted to feel like that again, not ever. I’d been trying to help him. Angry, I threw the note down and got back into bed, covering my head with the blanket.
Some time later, I heard another squeak. U
nable to resist, I peeked out from beneath my covers. A fat gray rat sat on its hind legs, staring at me. It also held a small roll of canvas between its teeth.
How does he get them to do it?
Having gotten my attention, the rat dropped the scroll and scurried away. This time, it was not just a note. It was a picture of me, of my face, painted on the canvas. A green mask covered my eyes; the tips of fairy wings were visible at my shoulders. It was what I’d worn on the night of the Midsummer’s Eve festival, the night we’d kissed. It was beautiful.
At the bottom was written:
Fairy Princess,
Forgive me. Come back.
Humbly,
King of the Rats
My heart surged with fresh emotion, even as I tried to bury it inside me. My body would not listen to my mind, which was screaming, Do not go! Do not give in. I dove into the tunnel before I could think better of it.
When I reached his room and looked through the grate, I did not see him. I pushed, and the grate swung open. Tentatively, I surveyed my surroundings.
Indigo’s room was twice the size of mine. Squinting in the dim light, I saw that the stone walls and entrance door were hidden behind tattered canvas drapes.
From somewhere in the darkness, I heard Indigo’s voice. “I would have come to you, but as you know, they keep me on a short leash.”
His chain scraped against the floor. I didn’t say anything—I still wasn’t sure I should be here. Keeping my back to the wall, I moved toward the sound of his breathing. I passed his bed, a washstand, and a long table covered with jars of paints and brushes. Why does Spector give him all this? Finally I saw him, squatting like a panther on a rock ledge that jutted from the dark corner of the wall, the chain coiled at his feet. The other end was attached to an iron ring embedded in the floor.
How has he not gone mad living in this hell for three years? Or maybe he has.
I bit my nails and leaned against the table. He watched me, as if waiting to see what I would do, his blue-violet eyes luminous even in the shadows. I tried my best to glare at him, but felt my anger soften at the sight of his crouched posture and intense gaze.
“Do you like the picture?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you.” I nodded toward some paintings on the floor. “I didn’t know you could draw.” I took a step toward him.
“Don’t.” He held up his hand. “Don’t get too close.” He pressed his fists together and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Avery. Truly I am. I didn’t mean what I said. I do want you here, more than you can imagine.”
“Then why—”
“Because . . . I got scared. Sometimes this . . . ability gets away from me. I was afraid I might hurt you.”
“You could have said that.” I crossed my arms, thinking of how he’d lashed out at me.
“Can you forgive me?” He smiled, one corner of his mouth lifting. That same crooked smile I remembered. Same crazy-sweet dimples. He could have asked me to do almost anything and I would have said yes, just to see him smile again.
“Yes, I forgive you. King of the Rats, huh?” I glanced around in case any rodents were lurking nearby. “It’s so disturbing. How do you get them to do your bidding?”
He shrugged. Self-conscious under his gaze, I folded my arms over my chest.
“You should know,” I said, “that I don’t believe you would hurt me.”
“Avery, you’d be surprised by what I’m capable of. I told you the truth. I am a monster. There’s a demon inside of me that I can’t control.” He shook his head. “If I wasn’t so selfish, I wouldn’t have asked you to come back. I would let you go, let you forget about me.”
“Indigo, Spector is the monster, not you.” I recalled what I’d learned of my mother, that she’d also thought she harbored a demon. “Please, don’t give up,” I begged. “We can try—”
“No! You can’t help me, Avery.” He jumped to the floor. “And I don’t want to destroy the only good I’ve seen in the world.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you.” He paced, dragging the chain with him. “When we were younger . . . when we kissed on the night of your birthday, I saw the world through your eyes. I saw how every living thing is connected, and I thought I could finally forgive myself for what I’d done. Then Spector came, and I realized I was meant to be punished.” He laughed and held out his hands. “This—this is my punishment.”
“I don’t understand.” I rubbed my forehead. “What do you need forgiveness for?”
“Let me show you.” He turned and raised his arms overhead, taking hold of the curtains behind him.
I gripped the side of the table. What was behind there?
He whisked the curtains open.
The entire wall was covered with a painting. It was of a beautiful woman. From her eyes spread a rainbow, as if she were a goddess. Everything the rainbow touched was covered with flowers and trees and sunshine—except for one thing: a small boy, who stood looking up at her, surrounded in shards of black, a lightning bolt from his raised fist extending into the dark sky above. It was him. It was a self-portrait of Indigo.
But who was the woman? I stared at her face, searching her features for clues. Slowly, it came to me. It was his mother.
Letting go of the curtain, Indigo slumped onto the edge of his bed and bowed his head into his hands. I thought my heart had cracked in two the other night; now it ruptured into a thousand pieces. I pressed my hands to my chest and let my gaze slide into my second sight. When Indigo looked up at me, I saw it. I saw it all.
A bonfire. Around it dances Indigo’s exotic and beautiful mother, laughing and singing, head tilted back, body swaying, giving herself up completely to the song.
Indigo is a little boy, maybe Geeno’s age. He and Katalina sit with Mr. Moralis, clapping and singing. Mr. Moralis beams at his wife, devotion in his eyes.
Later that night, the fire is smoldering. Everyone is fast asleep. Indigo’s mother slips into the dark night. Indigo wakes and follows. She enters the barn, quietly shutting the door. Indigo presses his eye to the slats and sees her in the throes of passion with another man, a man he has never seen before. Scared, Indigo runs to get his father. Fearing for his wife, Mr. Moralis bursts into the barn and discovers the truth. In a fit of jealousy, he strikes his wife and chases off the other man. Indigo’s mother storms away, screaming and cursing at her husband.
Indigo is crying outside the barn, hands over his ears. He chases after his mother as she mounts her horse and rides bareback into the rainy night. Indigo runs, trying to stop her from leaving. Then, clenching his fists, he throws his head back and releases a primal scream. A bolt of lightning flashes from the heavens. His mother’s horse rears up and she tumbles to the ground, breaking her neck from the fall.
And Indigo is the only one to see her die.
I didn’t realize I’d gone to him, but when I blinked, I was standing inches away. Tears ran down Indigo’s face; the cords of his neck stood out, but his expression was that of a child riddled with shock and self-blame.
I’d made him relive his mother’s death. I’d made him see it all over again.
“I killed her,” he whispered.
Wrapping my arms around him, I gathered him gently to me, stroking his hair, his face buried in my shirt. “Shhh.” My tears fell onto his shoulders, which trembled under the weight they bore. “It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident, Indigo. You were just a young boy.”
For a long time we stayed like that. Then he lifted his face to mine. Everything he had been through, everything he understood about me that no one else did, washed over me.
Gently, he removed my arms from his shoulders and stood. I took a step back as my heart quickened. He’d grown slightly taller than me but had kept the mishievous spark of his eyes. His cheek brushed mine as he whispered, “Thank you, Fairy Princess. But I can never forgive myself.” His breath was warm on my ear, sending shivers down my spine. He slowly pulled his h
ead back, deliberately grazing my face with his. I met his smoldering gaze. He looked at me, no into me, as if he wanted to know all my inner secrets. I held my breath, plunging into the blue-violet sea of his eyes.
Like a magnetic pull we drew together, his lips touching mine. I closed my eyes. His mouth pressed harder, parting my lips. His tongue found mine. My nerves, my every cell, vibrated with life. Indigo crushed me against him, our hearts finding the same rhythm, my blood surging through me like a river. I melted into him and he into me, his kiss wild and untamed. Even with my eyes closed, I felt his dark energy surrounding me, drawing me to a place that frightened me.
I pulled back, pressing my hand to his chest. My lips felt stung raw, my insides shaking.
He swept away from me, crouching again on the ledge like a caged animal. “I shouldn’t have done that. You’re in danger being here, being with me.”
I was beginning to think he was right. He wore a mantle of violence like a heavy cloak he could not shake off. But even so, I couldn’t leave him. I’d never met anyone who could do this to me, bring me to the brink of such emotional turmoil, seize me with fear and anger while melting my heart within my chest. I had to be strong. I had to be careful.
“Indigo, there is someone that might be able to help us, another prisoner. He told me that in a little over a week, there is to be a public execution. It seems impossible, but we are trying to find a way to get into the courtyard. It’s our only chance.” There were so many holes in Mr. Gentry’s suggestion; I couldn’t imagine how we could pull it off. I only knew we had to try.
Indigo looked up, hope and despair warring in his eyes. Then he nodded. “I’ll do anything I can to get you and your mother, and Hurricane, out of this hell.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The Eye
I lay in my bed, stunned at my visceral reaction to Indigo. I remembered my father’s concern about the Gypsies; he’d be disappointed in me. Is that why he’d forbidden me to go, to protect me from such passionate people?
The Tombs Page 25
