The Tombs

by Deborah Schaumberg

  One step at a time.

  My peripheral vision tracked the masked crow-guards lined up on either side, other people avoiding them as much as we. But at least the officer at the gate was from the prison, not the hospital.

  As we were about to pass, he looked down at Hurricane.

  “What’s this? You’re bleeding, young lady.” He stepped in front of us, extending his hand to Hurricane, lifting her chin. “Are you in need of assistance?”

  Her hood slid from her head, and I felt her body stiffen. “She’s all right, sir.” I kept my face down. “I’ll take care of her.”

  When he saw the bruises covering her face, his eyes narrowed. “Step back, miss. What’s happened here?”

  No! My heart raced. I concentrated my energy, switching into my second sight. The officer’s pale white energy was not what I had expected. He was speaking out of genuine concern. When I met his eyes, I saw his fear of a mob scene . . . his daughter, the same age as Hurricane. He was a worried father, shocked by Hurricane’s condition. There was nothing I could do to sway him.

  I felt it before I saw it. A tingle at my back—and then I was surrounded by Indigo’s powerful energy. The officer looked past me, and I knew he and Indigo had connected. The officer’s eyes glazed, and he slowly stepped back to let us pass. I let out my breath and took a hurried step toward the gate.

  A black form blocked my path.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Flight

  Hurricane screamed. More crow-guards stepped behind the first and slammed the gate shut. We were locked in. The momentum of people behind us forced us into the line of guards. One of them grabbed Hurricane by the arm while the others swooped in like the crows they resembled.

  Mass chaos broke out. Not knowing what was going on, people on all sides pressed forward toward the gate, yelling in fear and confusion. An elderly woman tripped and was trampled by the mob. Others tried to climb the wall and fell like stones into the crowd, crushing the people below them. Umbrellas knocked off hats and poked at eyes.

  For a split second, I caught sight of Katalina, who had turned to look back, surprise and pain etched upon her features.

  Why am I always the one left behind? But I could not have walked out that gate without my mother—or Hurricane, for that matter, especially given her condition.

  I pulled Hurricane to me, but the guard’s grip was tight. My mother whipped out the awl I’d given her and drove it forcefully into the crow’s shoulder. He cried out, letting go of Hurricane. We dropped our umbrellas and tried to hold on to each other, but we were knocked apart like a living game of knucklebones.

  The six of us were the only ones running in the opposite direction from the rest of the crowd. The birdlike masks fanned out into the mob as the police officers tried to regain control. A shot rang out, then another. I did not stop to see whom they were shooting at. We pushed our way back toward the gallows, knowing full well that the only exit was behind us. Rain slicked the stone and pulled heavily at my cloak. Luckily, the officers overseeing the removal of Norman Bale’s body didn’t notice us in the mass of screaming people.

  “Geeno!” I grabbed him as I slammed into the wall of the prison, my eyes searching frantically for somewhere to hide. Then I saw it, a dark alcove ahead. “This way!” I shouted as loudly as I could, hoping the rest would hear me over the sound of the rain and the clamor.

  We were at the stairs leading up to the bridge. It was our only chance. I shoved Geeno inside and turned back to find the others. “This way!” I called out again. Hurricane saw me wave before I grabbed my mother’s hand and pulled her into the stairwell. Indigo and Khan were sprinting toward us as well, pushing through the crowd.

  Up one flight, then another, until we reached the door to the bridge. I yanked it open, only to see police officers running at me from the courthouse. I slammed it shut again. “Keep going! Go up!” I pointed frantically to Geeno, who took off up the steps. A limping Hurricane trailed behind him.

  Khan threw himself at the door, his boots scraping the stone as he searched for a foothold. “I’ll hold them off!” he yelled.

  Indigo rounded the corner. His eyes met mine. A hundred unspoken thoughts passed between us.

  My mother stumbled. I slipped my arm under her shoulder and held her up as we began to ascend. I heard Indigo’s voice shout, “Khan, help her mother! You have to protect them! I’ll brace the door.” The pounding of boots echoed behind me, followed by Indigo’s desperate cry, “Keep Avery safe, Khan! Please, keep her safe.”

  “I will!” I heard Khan reply.

  It was as if I were running underwater. My head filled with the numbing sound of my own blood surging through my body. Sharp pain stabbed at my lungs. Khan overtook us and, in one fluid motion, swept my mother up into his arms. We burst out onto the roof of the Tombs, rain blinding my eyes. The scene in front of me didn’t make sense, even as my legs hurtled toward it.

  At the far side of the roof, a wooden ship hung in the air. Above it, a large oblong balloon floated. It was moving past the building, and somehow I knew it could not stop. At the bow of the ship was an enormous clock, its giant pendulum slowly swaying back and forth, and in an instant I recognized my father’s work. No one else could have created such an airship.

  “Come on, Avery!” Khan’s voice cracked like a whip, spurring me on. “Get to that ship!”

  I made out Geeno’s form in the distance. He was almost there. Men on board were shouting and pointing to a net of rope, which dragged along the surface of the roof. Geeno leapt onto it and climbed frantically toward the waiting arms above. Khan raced ahead, carrying my mother. She was saying something I could not make out.

  Hurricane was in front of me but faltering. I caught up to her and grabbed her arm without breaking stride. A loud crack echoed. Something whizzed by us.

  Glancing back, I saw a crow-guard standing, legs planted, arms extended out in front of him. The barrel of his weapon pointed directly at me. This was no tranquilizer gun. He took aim. Another crack, a flash of light. Time seemed to slow. Hurricane twisted around, breaking free from my grasp. She dove in front of me. A hole opened up in her shirt as red misted the air, wetting my face and arms. She fell, slowly, slowly, to the roof.

  “No! Oh no!” My second sight snapped into focus. A dark swirl enveloped the guard. I felt my knife sliding into my fingertips. Snippets of thought popped into my head: Katalina teaching me to throw; me, failing over and over again. And Hurricane—

  The guard aimed his gun again. Instinct took over. I stepped. My arm flew back. I hurled the knife. The trail of light behind it glowed bright and straight and strong, the energy guiding it to its target. It landed with a jolt, sinking to its hilt just above the crow’s goggles, in the spot Hurricane called the third eye. The guard’s dark energy billowed out and dissipated. His gun clattered to the roof. For a moment, his body froze, fixed in time, and then he dropped backward over the edge of the roof and was gone.

  Shaking, I looked down at my hands. They glowed with an oddly beautiful transparent darkness, like volcanic glass. What have I done?

  I fell to my knees beside Hurricane. “No!” I cried out. “Please, no . . .” But I knew she was dying. Her energy was but a pale wisp.

  “Avery, forgive me,” she gasped. “I was jealous of your friendship with Katalina.” A tiny line of blood trailed from the corner of her lips. “I did see your mother talking with Mr. Moralis, but I never had any reason to believe . . .” Her voice was ragged.

  “I forgive you, of course! Shhh, don’t talk.” I tried to lift her.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, voice raspy with pain. “You must . . . stop Spector.” She coughed. “You and Indigo . . . can destroy him.” Her voice grew faint and her light faded. My energy grasped onto what was left, and a veil lifted in Hurricane’s mind, one that I never even knew was there. Images flooded my brain. Hurricane as a toddler; her mother kissing her, saying, “Forgive me, my little Hurricane. I must go, to free you from the
dishonor I have brought to our family. I love you and always will.”

  I blinked. Hurricane was staring at me, a smile on her battered face. “My mother loved me,” she said, as she closed her eyes.

  Her energy expanded out in all directions, igniting the sky as it spread. Then it disappeared.

  I bent my head. Every ounce of will drained from my body.

  Then there were hands on my sides and I was lifted up. Khan stared down at Hurricane. “Is she . . . ?”

  I nodded, unable to say the words. “My mother?”

  “On the ship. I came back for you.” Khan removed his jacket and laid it over Hurricane. “You have to get to the ship. Now. Before it’s too late.” He shook my shoulders, hard, until I focused on his face. “Avery!”

  “No, not without Indigo!” I screamed. Right then I knew. Indigo is my soul mate. I love him. Just thinking the words momentarily lit my spirit, even in the midst of this bedlam. I love him with all my heart. I can’t lose him again.

  Khan’s golden eyes penetrated mine. He knew as well. His lids closed for the briefest of seconds, and when they opened they had a stern, almost fatherly cast to them. “Indigo risked his life to save you. I promised him I’d protect you. Get to that ship now. I’ll go back for him.” Before I could argue, he turned and dashed toward the stairs. I hated to leave Hurricane here, but I knew I’d never make it if I tried to carry her. I rose shakily to my feet.

  Khan is fast; he’ll make it back. The ship was moving farther away. I rushed toward it. As I got closer, I saw my father calling out and waving from the deck. My father! I didn’t know how it was possible that he had done this, but my eyes clung to his figure as if he were my lifeline.

  The net dragged to the edge of the roof. A few more feet; I was almost there. But with a scrape of gravel, it slipped over the side and was gone. “Come back!” I yelled up at the ship.

  My father’s voice cut through the air between us. “Jump, Avery! You can make it.”

  The net hung from the ship, getting farther away from me with each passing second.

  I backed up to get a running start. Shouts rang out. I glanced behind me, hoping to see Indigo and Khan running toward the ship. It was neither of them. Guards swarmed up from the stairwell. My sight shifted; I scanned the murder of crows. In the center, a white face floated toward me. Spector! A fury of black murkiness churned around him. It was alive and grasping out toward me. I could almost make out the shapes of black wings along its edges, as if he truly embodied the shadow of his treacherous crows.

  The front guards raised their guns and fired. Gravel sprayed up around my feet.

  I turned and sprinted, ripping off my cloak as I ran so it would not slow me. The wind clutched the fabric, billowing it out as I pumped my legs faster and faster. I heard more shots. A searing pain bit my left arm, heat blossoming under my skin. My step faltered but I did not stop.

  Just then, a whoosh of feathers brushed my side. My heart leapt. It was Seraphine, wearing Geeno’s magnetic hood. She flew ahead of me, as if showing me what to do. I focused on her with everything I had. Beautiful white energy flowed around her majestic body. The harder I concentrated, the more brilliant it became. Running fast, I approached the edge of the roof.

  Somehow, I knew the energy could help me. I had to trust it.

  I threw my arms out and jumped, the very air around me quivering with life. Every drop of rain glistened and glowed. The wind shifted and flowed, shimmering like an ocean tide.

  This is the life force, I thought. It is in the very air we breathe. It is the meshwork that connects us. To see this, to know this, is the gift.

  But a flash of fear cut through my vision. I was too far from the net. A terrible image came to me, of my body smashing to the street below. Seraphine’s shrill wailing scream reached out. In that sound, I heard her complete self-abandonment to the flight. It filled me with awe and longing. I arched my back, my heart swelling, and stretched my arms wider.

  It seemed impossible, but it was as if the pulsing air itself held me aloft. Wind whipped at my hair. In the next second, I was at the net. I crashed into it and wove my hands through the webbing, grabbing on for dear life.

  A shot rang out behind me. I turned toward the sound and watched with horror as one of Seraphine’s wings folded up like a piece of origami paper. She dropped below the ship and disappeared.

  “No!” I screamed, my tears mixing with the rain.

  Above me, my father leaned over the rail, yelling something I could not understand. He drew back his arm and hurled a pinecone-like object through the air; it landed with a metallic clang on the roof.

  Boom! The explosion released a tremor, nearly knocking me from my net. The entire ship swayed, as if rocked by a monstrous wave.

  I turned to look back. We were farther away from the building now. A plume of smoke billowed into the air, making me cough, burning my eyes. And as I watched, the side of the Tombs caved in.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  The Crystal

  One of my father’s crewmates scrambled down the net and helped me up onto the ship. I gawked at the scene before me. Jeremiah Thorn sprinted past, shouting, “All hands on deck!”

  There was rigging and propellers, a tubular ladder climbing up into the bulky balloon above my head, a giant rudder, and the clock—the beautiful, masterful, enormous clock. We were sailing. We were flying. It was too much to take in all at once.

  A pair of arms wrapped me in a bear hug. I looked up into my father’s rugged face, goggles pushed up into his hair. My shoulders shook, but no more tears came to my eyes. “You’re hurt,” he said. “We must tend to that arm.” He called to a young man, who rushed over and wrapped gauze around my injury.

  Everything was happening excessively fast. Billowing smoke obstructed my view of the Tombs. “We have to go back! Indigo and Khan are still there.”

  “That’s impossible, Avery. I’m sorry. They’ll shoot us right out of the sky. Khan and Indigo will find their own way out, I’m sure.” My father extended his hand toward the cabin where my mother was huddled in a thick cloak. A large man easily supported her while she drank from a steaming cup. “You did it! You got your mother out. She refused to go down below until you were safely on board.”

  I glanced toward the Tombs. He was right. If we returned, they’d down the ship. I felt my chest cave in just like the Tombs had.

  Geeno threw his arms around me. “I’m glad you all right. But Seraphine . . . she—”

  I hugged him to me. “I know.”

  Geeno’s chin quivered, and he ran off as quickly as he’d appeared. I wished I could go console him.

  My father checked my bandaged arm. “Did Khan tell you about the assembly?”

  “No. What assembly?”

  “Khan told me you gave him the combination to a safe in Roland Malice’s office. He and Tony snuck in and opened it.”

  “What?”

  “Inside the safe was a letter signed by your old boss. It incriminates his father, Tyber Malice, and Ogden Boggs, among others, in a scheme to poison the water, to control the laborers.”

  “A letter? This is the answer to our prayers. It’s evidence.”

  “That’s correct.” My father nodded. “And as we know, the authorities are corrupt, and Tammany Hall probably knew about the plan, so Khan brought it to the newspapers. It has caused quite a furor these last few days. Workers secretly took water samples from around the city to prove what Malice said in his letter was true. They’ve also reopened the investigation into his death.” My father leaned over the side of the ship and looked down to the city streets below.

  I stepped to the rail. The rain had softened to a light drizzle, and the building below glistened. Gigantic airships hovered just above ours, and seeing them so close made my legs feel weak, but my father seemed to have his ship under control and I trusted him. The city looked like a rats’ maze. Hundreds, no, thousands of people were marching down Centre Street. “What’s happening?” I asked.


  “Those are the protesters. Ogden Boggs is holding an assembly today to announce his run for office. He’s using the death of Norman Bale to demonstrate the perceived danger to the economic elite of being overrun by the common people. He says the newspaper articles are full of lies planted by labor unions. See there.” He pointed.

  In a square just outside the gates of the Tombs was a stage and raised seating platforms, American flags flapping at every corner. The square was packed with people and surrounded by rows of armed police officers. His voice was faint, but I saw that Boggs was already pontificating from the stage.

  I watched the demonstrators advancing toward the square. A dreadful thought came to me. “They’ll kill each other. Father! We’ve got to stop them.”

  “This is not our fight, Avery.” My father folded his arms over his chest. “You and your mother are safe up here.”

  The boat drifted closer. I heard the stomping feet, angry shouts; saw weapons raised in fists. My mother came up behind us, placing a hand on my father’s arm. He immediately put his arm over her shoulder. Whatever they’d given her to drink must be working; her voice was already stronger. “You’re wrong, Edgar. It is our fight. And Avery may be able to stop it.”

  I looked at my mother. A deep understanding settled into my bones. We are all connected. Race, culture, education—none of that mattered. If we hurt each other, we hurt ourselves. Just as the life I took on the roof of the Tombs has endangered my own aura. I still couldn’t process what I’d done, but this—this coming violence—would affect the energy of so many. “But how? How can I stop it?”

  “You need to show them. Even if you can only help a handful of people, it is worth a try.” My mother wrung her hands. “I wish Niko had given you the Lemurian Seed crystal.”

  My father gave her a long look, then nodded to Jeremiah Thorn, who was obviously the first mate on this ship. “Bring the box,” he said.