The crow-guard turned the gurney into the operating room, where Dr. Spector was waiting.
It was a round room of the same damp gray stone as the rest of the Tombs. A domed ceiling allowed for a large, multi-pronged apparatus to be suspended above a wooden table, crisscrossed by two sets of straps. The only light was that above the table.
On one side of the room was an elevated viewing platform shrouded in darkness. Something shifted there. Was someone watching? My skin crawled, and I felt sweat beading down my face and back.
“Sit up, please,” the crow-guard said, voice muted behind the mask.
I pushed myself up, and he helped me onto the hard wooden table. Dark stains ran along the edges. A shudder ran through me.
The guard left and Mrs. Luckett transferred a blanket from the gurney to cover my legs as Dr. Spector hovered menacingly to the side. “Lie down, please,” she said. The bright light hanging above me glared into my eyes, making it difficult to see.
Spector watched as she secured one strap around my legs and one around my body, pinning my arms by my sides.
“Very good,” Spector said. His voice was shrill and scratchy. “It is so much easier when you do not resist. I am ready.”
Mrs. Luckett smiled. “Yes, Doctor.”
“Good day, Avery. I trust you have enjoyed your meals?” Spector asked, almost cordially.
What have I done? I couldn’t stop shaking. Now that I was here, I wished I’d hidden in the tunnels. “Please don’t do this. Please . . . why are you taking my blood?” He’d said he used Indigo’s blood in the serum. Will he add mine as well?
Mrs. Luckett lifted her chin, eyes widening, as if I was being insolent to the doctor. Spector himself ignored my question. He pulled a small table and chair up next to the operating table. “Nurse, set up the impeller.”
She placed a brass instrument on the table. Two glass containers spanned either side of a pump-like device. Each container had a long rubber tube coming out of the top. A long metal needle protruded from the other end of the tube.
“Ready, dear? You’ll feel a pinch.” She jabbed the needle into my arm. It burned, as if she was pulling on my vein. She pressed the pump. Almost immediately, my blood flowed into the jar. Transfixed, I stared at the bright-red liquid, heard the drip, drip, drip.
Dr. Spector sat in the chair, placing his elbow on the table. He rolled up his sleeve. I watched with horror as the nurse inserted the other needle into his arm, as my blood flowed through a connector into the second canister and then on, into Dr. Spector.
“What . . . what are you doing? Why do you want my blood?” I shifted my sight, revolted as the energy surrounding my blood turned dark as it snaked toward Spector. He turned toward me and an image suddenly flashed across my mind: Spector as a young man, lying on the ground; his face and body scorched and smoking, disfigured; fire raging into the sky, enveloping a large mansion behind him; a crow hopping over as he writhed in agony; the crow plucking out his left eye. I squeezed my eyes shut. I’d never seen anything more disturbing, more horrific.
When I looked again, Spector seemed lost in the memory, his thin lips pressed tightly together. He doesn’t know I saw it. I realized that, for one brief moment, as we shared a blood connection, he was not impenetrable.
I remembered the stuffed and mounted crow on his desk, wondering if it was the same one I’d seen in his memory. My eyelids fluttered and my thoughts fogged. I tried to speak, but my voice came out a whisper. “Nurse, help . . .”
Dr. Spector, leaning forward, murmured to me, “As I told you, science masters sorcery. It is with your very blood, and before you, your mother’s, that I am immunized against the power of the seers.”
Sensation returned first in my fingertips and toes. I moved them, trying to see if I was still alive. Where was I? Through my closed lids, I sensed a bright light on my face. Then I remembered: the operating table. I fought the urge to snap my eyes open. Someone else was in the room; I heard voices, talking, very near me. My muscles froze. I barely breathed as my ears strained to hear what was being said.
“—you think small, Spector. This serum will shift the balance of power, first in New York and its hinterland, then, in the nation. The waterborne transmission is ideal. I certainly could not have sold the serum in the form of a tranquilizer dart, like your earlier rendition. Although tempting”—a laugh—“we can’t very well go around shooting our laborers.”
There was no mistaking the contemptible voice of Ogden Boggs. He must have been in the viewing stand all along.
“This the wench that showed up uninvited to my little soiree?” he continued. I felt a warm, fat hand settle heavily upon my arm. It took every ounce of self-control to keep from flinching. I smelled his burnt-cigar breath roll over me, could feel him ogling me. “Pretty. What say you give me a few minutes alone with her, eh?”
Dr. Spector strode toward us, his shoes clicking sharply across the stone floor. “She is a valuable specimen, an anomaly. I appreciate you not contaminating her with your filthy hands.” I was never so glad that Spector considered me valuable, specimen or no.
“Shame.” Boggs removed his fingers. “Ah well. We are close, Spector. Very soon I’ll announce a run for office. And when I win, you will receive the recognition you deserve.” He clapped his hands, swishing them together as if wiping off any misdeeds. “No more hiding in the shadows. No more secret meetings of the Commerce League. I will lead us to greatness.”
I heard the squeaky iron wheels of a cart and a tinkling of glass. “My science will speak for itself,” Spector stated matter-of-factly. “Here is the fresh batch you requested. Next time, give me more notice for an order of this magnitude. I practically had to drain my best specimen, and it is an exacting process to extract the drug from the plant.”
“I don’t care how you make the serum, Spector. Just remember, you’re nothing without me. I am the one people trust, not you.” What seemed like a strained silence settled over them as they proceeded into the hallway, taking the cart with them.
My heart wrenched as their words registered. Spector said he’d almost drained his best specimen. He was talking about Indigo. And Boggs was obviously spreading this controlling serum throughout the city. They must be stopped.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Padded Cell
A nurse I’d never seen before woke me with a scowl on her ashen face. “Food’s on the side table,” she said in a gruff voice as she strode toward the door.
I felt as if an omnibus had hit me. “Wait . . . what is the date today?”
“What do I look like, your personal secretary?” She had her hand on the knob.
“Please!” I sat up as a flash of fear tensed my muscles. What if I’d slept through the execution? “I beg of you.”
“Compose yourself, young lady. It’s Wednesday the fifteenth. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.”
I felt a sudden surge of dizziness. Closing my eyes, I slumped back down and took a deep breath. I still had three days, but I was as weak as I was when I’d first arrived at the Tombs.
I have to regain my strength—and fast.
I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my breathing. But I could not do it. I tried to shift my sight; I failed.
What if Spector had taken away my ability? I wished suddenly, fiercely, that I could talk to my mother. My mind slipped again, thoughts still fuzzy. All I could think about was sleep. Before drifting off, I forced myself to eat.
I finally awoke feeling somewhat myself. Hands in front of me, I immediately concentrated on my third eye. Light shimmered around my fingers. I let out a long sigh, as I focused harder. Why couldn’t I cause another explosion? It would solve everything if I could blast my way out of here. When I felt my ability sufficiently honed, I watched the clock until all was dead quiet in the halls.
Two nights left. Nothing mattered now but our plan. I had to sneak into Mr. Gentry’s greenhouse and “borrow” a few drops of his sulfuric acid. But
first I needed to see Indigo.
He was curled into a fetal position on the hard floor, long hair falling across his eyes. If I’d felt weak from a small amount of blood drawn, I could not imagine how Indigo must be faring. While he slept, his face lost its hard edge, the self-loathing he carried in his eyes. I felt sure he’d passed out here instead of on his bed so he’d be nearer to the grate, nearer to me. I wanted to kiss the shadow below his pouted lower lip, the tiny line across his right brow where hair did not grow, and the smooth raised scar on his chest.
I sent him healing thoughts and quietly made my way to the greenhouse, careful not to bang the lantern on the ladder as I sometimes did. Silently, I pulled myself up and waited, listening, until my eyes adjusted. I’d left the lantern hanging in the shaft, so Mr. Gentry would not see it.
Soon enough, I heard snoring coming from the tree house. The moon cast a silver light on the greenery; it was not hard to find the workbench, nor the tiny bottle of acid. It looked so innocent, like golden honey. How could this eat through iron?
Wrapping the glass jar in a torn piece of blanket, I carried it, very carefully, back down the ladder.
Throughout the night I practiced my sight, building its strength, increasing the speed with which I could slip into it. My second sight felt as sharp as a hatpin.
Time seemed to mock me with the slow scratch of the pendulum. Friday night could not have arrived fast enough.
This was it. One step at a time.
My every nerve tingled as I plumped my pillows into a long shape on the bed and covered it with the sheets and blankets. Pulling the grate closed behind me, I left the room, hoping it was for the last time. With the tiny glass bottle cradled in my hand, I made my way to Indigo’s room.
I swung the grate open, gently touching his face to push back his hair. His eyes flew open and he snatched my wrist with bruising strength. I sucked in my breath. If he’d grabbed my other hand, I might’ve dropped the bottle. As soon as he focused on my face, he released me.
“Avery.” He let out his breath, as did I. “I thought . . . maybe Spector . . .”
“Shhh, the guards will hear us.” I held up the little bottle.
“What is that?” He sat up, massaging his temples. “My head is killing me.”
“Sulfuric acid. Supposedly, it will eat through iron, and you, if we’re not careful.”
We moved his bed back a few feet and stretched out the heavy chain. Please don’t let me burn off his foot. I knelt and tentatively dripped the viscous yellow liquid onto the link closest to the shackle.
“It’s not doing anything,” Indigo whispered.
My heart sank. I’d expected it to work immediately. “Let me think. They used it to eat through the rusted iron doors. Something must cause a reaction.” What did the old doors and flesh have in common? A possibility came to me, but could it be that simple? Maybe it was the dampness Mr. Gentry had gone on about. I retrieved the pitcher of water from Indigo’s night table.
“Pray I’m right.” I poured a small trickle of water onto the iron link. The yellow liquid began to bubble, then turned smoky black. The fumes were horrible, like rotten eggs. “Ugh!” I waved my hand in the air.
Indigo swiped a blanket off the bed. “Quick, put this over your nose and mouth!”
We breathed through the blanket as, little by little, the sizzling acid ate down into the iron. In a matter of minutes, the thick link was reduced to a black puddle on the floor.
Indigo jumped up. “Holy shit! It worked!” He glanced my way. “Sorry . . .”
I covered my mouth to suppress a laugh. “It’s okay. Keep your voice down. We don’t want to get caught now.”
Jubilant, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him. I felt his hand weave into my hair as he tilted my head back and pressed his mouth hard against mine. His touch was like fire, like the sulfuric acid on the iron. Breaking the kiss, he held me out by my shoulders, my lips throbbing.
“Avery, we are going to get out of here.”
I smiled at his sudden burst of enthusiasm, freed along with his foot.
He pushed the cuff up his shin to don his boots. We’d have to deal with that later. He gave me his extra pair of shoes. They were big, but better than running around in my socks. He also had a couple of old hooded cloaks and some clothing he’d grown out of over the years. Luckily, Dr. Spector did not want his prized specimen freezing to death in the thin prison uniforms.
“It’s strange,” Indigo said, as he stuffed the cloaks and clothes, Lemming’s coat and hat, and the piece of pipe into a burlap sack. “You’ve brought time back to me. Days and weeks had stretched into eternity. Sometimes I’d learn entire months had gone by without me realizing it. And now every second is alive. I’d even given up trying to take control of Spector’s mind. He has a wall in his brain that I am not able to penetrate. Do you know they wear the goggles to protect themselves from us? All but him.”
“I know. His mind is an immoral pit of darkness. There was a moment when I did reach through—but there’s so much else to share with you, and now is not the time.” I wanted to tell Indigo what was happening, what Spector and Boggs were doing to the people of New York, pitting them against each other . . . controlling them with the serum from his blood. But there would be time to discuss all that later.
We lifted Indigo’s bed and set it down over the evidence from the acid. We made a rough body shape on top of the bed, then tucked the dissolved end of the chain under the mattress. We softly closed the grate behind us. Indigo hoisted the sack over his shoulder and followed me on hands and knees through the tunnels. Carrying the bottle of acid carefully, I held the lantern up, lighting our way.
We reached the ladder to the botanical lab. With boots, I had no trouble climbing, and as we ascended, I told Indigo what I knew about his family—that Katalina and his father were well. He grew quiet at the thought of them. I couldn’t imagine being alone in this horrific place since the age of thirteen, torn away from loved ones.
We reached the top, and I poked my head into Mr. Gentry’s lair.
“Hello, Miss Avery, hello. You’re here, just as we planned.” Gentry sat cross-legged on the floor by the opening, as if he’d been waiting there all night.
“Oh, Mr. Gentry, you startled me!” I pocketed the vial of sulfuric acid before I ascended further.
He jumped up as we climbed into the room. “You must be Master Indigo. I am Hanover Gentry, at your service.” He pumped Indigo’s hand. Indigo nodded and looked around, eyes wide and mouth open.
“This is so terribly exciting. Most fun I’ve had since . . . ” Mr. Gentry rubbed his bristly beard. “Fifteen years ago, when a python arrived with one of the specimen plants and escaped into the mess hall. Oh, yes indeedy, must’ve been six feet long, it was.”
“I’m glad you’re excited. I’m scared to death.” I brushed dirt off my pants legs.
“The nurse will come by shortly,” Mr. Gentry said. “In the meantime, Mr. Indigo, I must introduce you to Pepper, my parrot.”
“You go ahead,” I said. “I’ll wait here.”
They moved away; I dashed to the workbench and replaced the bottle. I hoped Spector would not examine the chain or find the puddle any time soon, and Mr. Gentry would never discover I’d deceived him, or get into trouble because of me. I sprinted back just in time.
“Come, come, quickly now, no time to waste.” Mr. Gentry led us to the locked door leading into the hall, popping something into his mouth as we walked. Indigo and I hid behind the nearest trees as he banged on the door. Moments later, I heard a dour voice speak to him through the window. The nurse couldn’t possibly see him, as his head was considerably below the height of the glass.
“What’s it now, Gentry? Go to sleep. It’s late.”
“Ah, the lovely Nurse Babbage. I was hoping you’d come. I need your kind nursing skills. I’ve hurt my arm, I have.”
“Go to sleep.” She knocked on the glass. “Tough it out till morning.”
“Oh dear, I think it’s broken.” He moaned for emphasis. “How can I work with a broken arm?” He was such a bad actor; it would surprise me if the nurse fell for it. But she did.
“For God’s sake.” Keys jiggled. The door pushed in. “Now, how’d you go breaking your arm at this hour? I’ve got more important things to do than swaddle your injuries.”
She entered the dimly lit room, the door closing behind her. Mr. Gentry cradled his left arm. She stooped to have a look. But as she got close, he swung his right fist, stabbing her neck with a long syringe. Mr. Gentry stepped back as Nurse Babbage gasped, swiping at the tube of glass embedded into her skin, knocking her goggles askew. Wide-eyed, she slowly stilled and dropped her arms. Her white uniform matched the pale cast of her face.
I stared at Mr. Gentry, aghast. Even though I’d known what he planned to do, he was savage in his execution.
He beamed, waving us out of our hiding spot. I approached him warily, as he removed his gloves and tossed them aside. “I chewed some coca leaves to get up my courage, yes I did. Didn’t want to use the serum, but she’s a mean one, she is. Even so, I gave her the smallest dose I could.” He fidgeted with his shirtsleeves. “That should do it, yes sirree.”
We’d debated having Indigo use his powers of persuasion to get the nurse to do what we wanted, but we knew he’d have to get her goggles off first. If she screamed, the guards would come running. We’d decided this was safer.
Mr. Gentry spoke to the nurse. “Nurse Babbage, please bend down.”
She lowered her head, and Mr. Gentry removed the syringe.
Indigo ran his hands through his hair. “Is this what Spector is doing with my blood?” he snarled.
“Yes, yes it is.” I walked the nurse away from the window. “Nurse Babbage,” I said, “I’m sorry, but I need you to remove your uniform.”
Indigo and Mr. Gentry turned their backs, giving us at least an illusion of privacy. I was terrified the drug wouldn’t last, that at any moment she would cry out. But obediently, she removed her belt, hat, and goggles. Unbuttoning her long white coat, she stepped out of it, letting it puddle to the floor. She stood in her shift and drawers, unaware of her surroundings. I wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and asked her to sit down in a chair we had provided. Then I removed her boots.
The Tombs Page 27
