“Yes,” the chief says, looking impressed.
I feel another spike of envy.
“I read the reports months ago, ma’am,” Bella says with a humility-ridden, bashful smile. “Something of a photographic memory, you see.”
“Very good,” the chief says. She takes her time answering, tapping her pen against the desk. “You think I am oblivious in here, but I am paying attention.” She looks at me directly. “I know about your little forays into the confidential files.” Her eyes are such a dark brown they appear black. “I know everything. Don’t forget it.” She finally releases me, looking down. “Mona, give them the files.” She looks at Bella. “And meanwhile you can acclimate yourself to this new partnership. I expect to hear about nothing but blissful union between you from this point forward. You will be the lead, of course, but not to Mary Elizabeth’s exclusion.”
Mona hands Bella the manila files as we stand.
“I know you won’t disappoint me,” Chief Ito says.
“Of course not, ma’am,” Bella says before I can.
“Because if you do…”
She doesn’t need to finish her sentence and she doesn’t. Because if we do disappoint her, we won’t get another chance like this again. Bella will go back to the bottom, and I can kiss the chance for this internship to turn into a real job once I graduate good-bye.
“You may go,” she says.
Bella and I stand.
“Not you, Mary Elizabeth. I’d like a word.”
Bella backs out as the chief faces the flicker of the computer screen and sifts through the ten thousand e-mails that have probably been popping up in the minutes we’ve stolen, while Mona is organizing herself at a small desk in the corner.
“How’s your therapy going?” Chief Ito says without looking at me. “With Dr. Tink?”
“It’s good,” I say, not wanting to show my surprise. She really does know everything.
“That’s good. I’ll need you to be in top shape if you’re going to be doing real police work, so you’ll need to keep up with those appointments. This is not for the faint of heart.”
“I know. I…I want to thank you for this opportunity. I will make you proud, I promise.” I’m stammering and can’t control it. “I…I value what you’ve done for the city…You’re…amazing. My parents.” I say the words I’ve wanted to say since the day I set foot in the building. These words might be the very reason I’m here at all. “My sister, Mirana.”
“Yes.” It’s clear she’s trying to put me out of my misery by shutting me up. “I know. I’m glad we were able to solve it.”
“There wasn’t any we. You solved it,” I say, wishing I could keep the passion from my voice. “Extra time, independently. Everyone else had forgotten.”
“My boss certainly wasn’t happy….” She smiles, remembering some-thing.
“But you didn’t give up even when they pulled you from the case.”
She nods, seems embarrassed. “I don’t like cold cases. They don’t sit right with me.”
“Nights, weekends. You put yourself in danger to catch Jake Castor and bring him to justice. You’re my inspiration. For everything in life. I…I just want you to know that. I promise you I will make you proud.”
I wait as the seconds stretch into a long minute. She leans back in her chair, and I can see she needs a day off, an eye mask and some Oreos, maybe six episodes of Love Island to forget what weighs her down.
“I’ve spent quite a lot of time with your file, Miss Heart.” She folds her hands on her desk while I wonder if I should fill the silence. But then she goes on. “I’ll be honest, I had to think through whether a person such as yourself, with your level of trauma, could be trusted, whether a job like this with its constant attendant pressure would be a boon to your abilities or a detriment. And with the loss of your family, I know it must have been the natural reaction to keep people at bay, to stay within the confines of the Scar, its ten square blocks. No one knows them better than I. You’re a prodigy, Mary Elizabeth, with all the makings of a fine detective, or I never would have approved your internship placement here, no matter your test scores or your physical capabilities.” She meets my eyes, evenly. “The trouble with Legacy is they put Legacy before anyone else, always. Legacy Loyalty, as the saying goes. They are unruly, unkempt, and more concerned with personal freedom than justice. Without magic to focus them, they are unbridled chaos and unchecked emotion. And I say that as one of them…one of you.” She tugs at the white blouse at her wrist so her black heart is visible. I have always known the chief was Legacy, but this is the first time I’ve seen it. My hand goes reflexively to my own and lingers there. “You’re going to earn your place here or lose it. And part of that is understanding that we’re a family. You’ll be in the trenches with people, and they need to know they come before the Scar and magic and the Troubles…all of it. In the end we’re here for one another because no one else will be. The question is whether you will realize that or simply fade into Scar alleyways and live a small and tired life, trapped in what once was. It is Wonder no more. You can avoid the second option if you so choose. The whole world could be yours.”
I swallow and nod. “Ma’am” is all I can manage.
“I’m sorry about your family, Mary Elizabeth,” she says as she goes back to her computer and places her reading glasses on her nose. “Now go find me that girl, preferably alive. Use your uncanny street smarts to bring me my prize. And remember, with a job like this, you have the opportunity to keep what happened to you from happening to others.”
I’m about to tell her again that she can rely on me, that I would rather lose my life than disappoint her, when Officer Laslo pushes the door open.
“Yes?” the chief says, then her breath catches.
“Another box, ma’am. We already checked it, but we thought we should bring it to you right away. It…it was addressed to you.”
The chief stands. “Put it down and open it.”
“But—”
“Now.”
Officer Laslo places the box on the desk, moves its opulent red satin ribbon out of the way, and lifts the top.
A hand rests in the center, mist rising all around it as the dry ice burns off. Its fingernails are blackened, and congealed blood crusts at the wrist. It’s discolored gray, and the middle finger is pointed straight upward, flipping the chief the bird.
She blanches as Mona comes around to usher me out. “Shoo, dear,” she says, nudging me over the threshold and out the door, where Bella is waiting for me, hardly able to contain her questions.
WHEN WE GET ONTO THE STREET, BELLA AND I face each other awkwardly. Other than a couple of streetlamps, it’s dark. Aside from the cathedral-like design of the station itself, all the architecture in this area is tall and rectangular, and casts off an eggplant-purple color in the absence of light. The rain has stopped, but it’s still cold and the wind zips through the corridors between buildings. I never feel comfortable anywhere around here. The trees are so manicured and equally spaced, with raised flower beds on even-numbered street corners. In the Scar there are palm trees, and flowers grow wild. Without the literal warmth of the Scar and the constant hum of people and revelry on the streets, everywhere else feels lacking and devoid of spirit.
I zip up my coat and adjust my backpack. I don’t think either of us knows what to say. We’re probably both heading to the Scar, but I’m going to Wonderland and I don’t want her coming with me. For one thing, she seems like she might be an irritation, but also I want to go down there and get as much information about Mally as I can on my own. I know we’re supposed to be partners and it shouldn’t be a competition, but it is. Best I acknowledge that to myself now. If I can find Mally without anyone’s help, I’m almost sure to get a real position when my internship is finished. There’s also the small matter that I don’t want her to see me squealing and jumping up and down, because I can’t wait to get to my friends so I can tell them I’M ON A REAL CASE! Of course I won�
�t be able to tell them what it is, but that’s okay. I’M STILL ON A REAL CASE!
“You taking the train?” I ask, betraying no signs of my internal delirium.
“I am.” She clutches the manila files Mona gave her to her chest. I would love to snatch them from her. “Shall we walk together?”
“Sure.”
“Listen,” she says as we descend the hill to the station. “I want you to know that I’m here for you if you have any questions.”
“Questions?”
“Yes, about procedure, rules, anything about the case.”
I try to keep my voice sounding light, but I’m bristling over her tone. “I think I’m good. Can’t wait to have a meeting so we can brainstorm strategy. I have some ideas.”
“I just want to make sure you’re planning to do this by the book.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well,” she says, still moving ahead at full steam in those adorable little oxford loafers, “from what I’ve observed you don’t always follow the rules, and since this is my first time as lead, I want to make sure no one has cause to reprimand us.”
“Okay?”
“So no more stealing confidential files—”
“I didn’t steal them. And I would never betray the chief or anyone else on the force.”
“No,” she says, “I suspect you wouldn’t. Still. By the book. And like I said, I’d be happy to go over what that means.”
“No thank you,” I say. “Like I said, I’m good.” I realize this is a smidge hypocritical, considering the thoughts I was just having, but what she’s saying to me is just plain insulting, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to have her shadowing me the whole time, looking over my shoulder and acting so superior. That’s the kind of thing that will send me over the edge very quickly. I can see the train station from here and I’m not in the mood for giving her any more of my time. “Bella,” I say, “let’s just get everything out in the open right now. I may be seventeen, but I’m Scar seventeen, not idiot Narrows seventeen. Let’s remember what that means.”
We pause before we get to Mission Avenue, where there are far more people around. Bella puts a hand on her hip and looks at me with one eyebrow raised. “Go on,” she says.
“It means I’ve lost everything once already and I have no illusions about life. It means I don’t care about anything except doing this job so when I get out of high school I can actually have a life and take care of myself and my aunt. Just understand one thing: I’m not beneath you. So let’s work together and make a name for ourselves. Because I don’t know about you, but I am probably as sick of filing as you are of being the girl trailing behind Tony.”
Bella seems to think about this and then nods tightly.
“Well, then, let’s totally destroy this case,” I say.
“Destroy?”
“Yes. Let’s solve it and then solve another and another until they give us all the awards and all the accolades and no one can ever tell us anything except ‘thank you’ ever again.”
I don’t know if I even mean what I’ve said, but it feels good to let some of the excitement I feel about our case bubble to the surface.
“Yes,” she says, her voice matching mine. “I like that idea. Let’s do that. Can you even imagine what they would say? Two girls from the Scar positively dominating the force!”
“The chief would be so proud of us.”
“The guys on the force would have to give us respect!” She slips an arm around my shoulder.
“We might get to be on TV!”
“We might get to run a press conference!”
“Yes!”
We’re both giddy and smiling and lost in our own imaginings when we start walking again. I’m in lock step with her.
Her laugh is throatier and fuller than I would have expected, and I have the same lurching feeling I always do when I have found something I was looking for.
HOME SWEET WONDERLAND. HOW I missed you.
There are so many people here from school you would never think it’s a weeknight if you just walked in for the first time. Probably in any normal place kids would be at home doing healthy home things. But not here. This is the Scar, where everyone parties like it’s the end of the world, mostly because we already survived it. What else are we to do with our restless bones?
I search automatically for Mally Saint and find she isn’t in her usual place on the dais. There was a small part of me that was hoping maybe she would be up there like a storm cloud with Hellion on her shoulder, but part of me is also glad she isn’t. I don’t want her to be dead or anything, but I do want to be the one who finds her and brings her home.
There are only three tables up there, and two of them are currently occupied by Lucas and Katy. Katy is in a pink mididress, hair in a styled bob, and Lucas in his usual coat and tie, button-down shirt, with his brown hair slicked back. They pay heavily to have that table, but no matter how much Dally Star bumps the price so they’ll leave, they continue to pay it. I’m sure Lucas Attenborough wouldn’t allow himself to move among the riffraff. In fact, I think he comes here for the sole purpose of feeling superior and talking about us from the safety of his makeshift throne. He and Katy aren’t the only Narrows kids here, but they are the worst. There’s a reason there’s open space around their table even though Wonderland is packed. Lucas Attenborough and Katy Smith repulse Legacies so much that no one wants to be anywhere near them, not even if it would mean being able to sit down and watch the room.
I’m scanning for James and Ursula when Dally Star, illustrious owner of this little corner of paradise, summons me over. I push through the crowd and signal to Dally’s right-hand man, Gary, to get me a drink. He doesn’t ask me what. I always get the Caterpillar, a mix of bitters and tonic water. Even if Wonderland served alcohol and I were old enough to drink in earnest, I wouldn’t. I learned early on that it’s best to stay sharp at all times.
“Hi, sweetheart.” Dally slides my drink to me and I hand over my three dollars. “No, no, don’t be silly. It’s on the house.” Dally’s in a white suit, just like he always is, with his thin mustache and white towel slung over his shoulder, blond hair coiffed into a semi-bouffant, white sunglasses with pink lenses. He’s probably not more than twenty-five, but he could also be sixty. Dally Star is mercurial and impossible to pin down: in age, in look, in personality. He is an anomaly. But he’s also my friend. Sort of.
“Thanks, Dally.” I sip on the drink, savor the faint traces of orange in the bitters.
“You want me to hold that for you?” He indicates my backpack, which is now stuffed with work clothes, boots, and my coat.
I’m in my usual black jeans and white tank, my leather necklaces on, leather bracelets climbing my arms. I feel like myself again. “Yes, please,” I say, handing it to him.
I catch sight of Ursula down by the stage dancing, head leaned back. Ursula dancing is the best. She does it like she does everything else, with total commitment, limbs flailing so she looks like she has more than four, eyes closed like there’s no one around her and nothing to pay attention to. People move out of her way so they don’t get hit. She’ll never even notice.
James is in the corner playing pool where I can just see him from my place at the bar. At first, I want to run over to him and tell him my news, but as usual, watching James leaves me too breathless to do much of anything. I love the way his hair flops from behind his ears so his eyes are hidden from my view, the way his cheeks dip into dimples when he laughs at something. But the biggest thrill I get from James is the aura of danger that’s always around him, an invisible bubble. No matter how he smiles, no matter the warmth in his voice, James Bartholomew is always up to something.
If I watch carefully, I’ll see that what looks like an innocent game of pool is actually so much more. By dominating the game as he is, surrounded by his boys, he’s sending a message to his opponent and his opponent’s boys. If I look carefully, I will see that there’s money on t
he table, and James will be lining his pockets with it soon enough, because James never loses. It is a sickness to admit his power has always and will always be the thing that draws me to him the most. That, and knowing I’m the only thing in the world he really cares about.
“So, what’s going on with the body parts all over town?” Dally swings the rabbit foot he always carries in his pocket.
I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am that Dally knows about that. He knows about everything, has ears to the ground at all times.
“Can’t talk about that, Dally.”
He is completely unaffected by my denial. “Everyone saw the box that was left in front of the Ever Garden. I heard it was little Chipper Lowry who found it, poor thing. Imagine, three years old! His mother is going to have to explain how a foot came to be in a box at the park gates. Apparently”—Dally leans forward—“Chipper thought it was a toy. Tried to play with it. Howled when his mother took it from him.” He sighs. “Oh, to have been a fly on an Ever rose that day.”
I smile conspiratorially. “Yes. To have been a fly on an Ever rose.”
“Don’t listen to the people who say you’re betraying the Scar by working for the government, sweetheart,” Dally says. “Put them out of your head. They’re just jealous.”
Dally does this a lot. Pushes buttons and waits for reactions. It’s how he gets so much of his information. In spite of best efforts not to let myself get rattled, this does rattle me. The Scar means too much for me to tolerate being seen as a traitor when I’m trying to be the opposite. “People are saying that?”
“Never you mind. Let us be proud of you. You deserve it. You could be at home worrying about your social media, but instead you’re contributing to your community, and the Great Ghost knows we need it.”
“Dally,” I say.
He pours me another drink, eyes on the band. “Mmmm?”
“I was just wondering if you know anything about Mally Saint.”
Dally perks up and leans forward, one eyebrow raised. “I heard she’s missing. Her father came in here yesterday with that awful bird and some big security guy, looking for her. I don’t know a thing, hon. She was here Monday. I saw her acting creepy and bitchy as usual, and then she was gone. As far as I’m concerned, everything was the same as usual. I already showed him the camera footage, but I can show it to you, too, if you want.” A look of understanding passes over his face. “Hang on a second,” he says. “Are you on an official case?”
City of Villains Page 4
