Sierra turned suddenly, catching her mother off guard. “You wanna know how I know that you believe in our power more than anyone? I can see the terror in your eyes. You’re afraid. You been scared since I mentioned it. You’re afraid of me finding things out, but more than that, you’re still terrified of your own parents. Because you know they were powerful. You know they had it, that magic. And you see it in me, don’t you, Mami? And it terrifies you.”
María’s eyes were wide and watery. She must’ve been working hard for years to convince herself that both her parents were completely insane, Sierra realized. She must’ve fought to believe that she was a normal person, just like everyone else, and not a gifted spiritist, linked to a legacy of magic.
“And you know what else?” Sierra continued. “I know you got it too. You got that magic touch, Mami, but you too afraid to use it. Too afraid that the other teachers at your school or Tía Rosa might find out, or that it’d be more power than you knew what to do with. That’s probably it — you’re afraid of your own power.” Sierra was sniffling, but she refused to let the tears out. Her jaw was set, her eyes narrow. “Well, I’m not afraid, Mami. I’m not scared of my power. I’m not ashamed of what I got. Not ashamed of my history, and I’m not ashamed of Abuela. You hear me?”
Ever so slightly, María Santiago nodded. For a second, Sierra thought her mom might shatter into a million pieces right then and there.
A door opened in the hallway above them and Timothy poked his head over the banister. “You want me to call the police?”
“No!” Sierra and her mom yelled at the same time.
Something in María’s eyes relented. Tears still teased their edges, but they held a peacefulness that hadn’t been there before.
Sierra turned and started down the stairs. She felt like she’d lost about twenty pounds just by speaking.
She walked out into the hallway. The answer was coming, she was sure of it. Wick had known they’d be at Coney Island. That meant someone had to have …
She froze in her tracks on the second-floor landing. In her mind’s eye, she saw, or felt, a flurry of movement, a shadow that flickered away just before she could see it. Besides her friends and Juan, only one other person knew she was going to Coney Island.
Sierra’s feet barely touched the steps as she raced down them.
“Neville!”
Her godfather smiled up from his coffee mug. “Sierra, I thought you were turning in, girl.”
“Neville, can you be that cool godfather that does his goddaughter a solid without asking too many questions?”
“Conspicuous and Ridiculous are my middle names.”
“You mind giving me a ride uptown again?”
Neville’s grin got bigger. “You know I love an adventure.”
It made some kind of creepy sense. Why had Nydia been so helpful anyway? Sierra was just some kid from around the way; why was a Columbia librarian wasting so much time to dig up papers on some vanished anthropologist for her? She’d even asked for updates when Sierra had met her at the library. Nydia must’ve met Wick at Columbia, or maybe gone there to seek him out.
And Sierra had been happily feeding her info on how everything was moving along. She cringed. She’d been so thrilled to find someone that looked like her on the otherwise unfriendly campus that she had played right into their hands. Nydia probably had Robbie at the library with her — she could easily hide him amidst those labyrinthine stacks. Well, I’ll straighten it all out one way or the other, Sierra thought, rolling down the window and letting the cool night air swoosh against her face.
“Smoke bothering you?” Neville asked.
“Nah, just wanted some fresh air. Just … thinking.”
“You know, if you wanna talk about it, I’m actually pretty good at keeping a secret.”
“I wish I could tell you, Uncle Neville. I really do.” She shook her head. Once someone you trusted turned out to be spying on you, it called everyone into question. “You ever been betrayed?”
Neville laughed. “Oh, plenty a times. And it never stops sucking.”
“What do you do?”
“Officially?” He swung hard into the right lane to get around a slow-sauntering Jeep. “It ain’t Sunday morning and we ain’t in the country, fool!” He laughed and tugged on his smoke. “I mean, depends on a few things, but generally I cut the offending party out of my life and keep it movin’. Once all the damage has been repaired, that is.” He screeched the car back into the fast lane and revved it forward.
“Yeah,” Sierra said. “It’s the damage control part I gotta figure out.”
Neville grunted in commiseration.
“Can you drive any faster?”
“Well, damn, Sierra, thought you’d never ask.”
The night guard, an ancient Irish cat with a wooden cane, was staring intently at one of those seven-day medicine holders. Sierra flashed the student ID Nydia had given her and the old guy barely glanced at it. “Workin’ late?” he mumbled without looking up from his medicines.
“Something like that. Anybody here?”
“One or two lonely souls,” the guard said. Sierra headed in. “And that lady who’s always in the basement, of course.”
“Nydia?”
“Uh-huh, that’s the one. Little Spanish señorita like yourself.”
“Anyone with her? Maybe a tall kid with locks?”
The old man squinted at Sierra. His left eye was foggy with cataracts. “You’re mighty inquisitive, my dear.”
“Forget it,” Sierra said, hurrying along.
She had no plan. It was a stupid time to be thinking such things, rushing as she was down the endless flights of stairs toward a potentially ghost-wielding sorceress. But still, the thought remained: She had no plan. She had simply landed on an answer and run headlong into whatever mess awaited her. She’d have to do better in the future, if she survived. If Robbie was down there somewhere, surely, and if she could find him before Nydia found her, maybe they’d have a chance. Maybe. Then again, maybe Nydia wasn’t even helping Wick.
Sierra reached the thick metal door that led to the archival basement and turned the handle ever so gently. The room was dark except for a dim light coming from somewhere deep in the stacks. She checked her pockets and scrunched up her face. She’d have to get in the habit of carrying around stuff to draw with if she was going to be any kind of shadowshaper. A fire extinguisher gathered dust in a little alcove right next to the door. Sierra unhinged it and heaved it onto her shoulder bazooka-style. It was ridiculous, but it felt good to at least have something heavy in her hands if things got hairy.
This is stupid, Sierra thought, making her way as quietly as possible down a corridor between two bookshelves. But all she could envision was Robbie being tortured to death at the hands of a throng haint. She shuddered and crept forward, trying to force the thought away.
Nydia stood at a table between two stacks. The Wick file was splayed out messily in front of her, and she hunched over it, her back to Sierra, flipping through pages and mumbling to herself. Sierra held her breath and slid silently into striking distance. She wrapped both hands around the neck of the fire extinguisher, bracing her body to swing. One hit and it would be over. Well, over for Nydia anyway. Sierra still wouldn’t know where Robbie was, and Wick would still be out there somewhere. She paused.
Nydia spun around, her eyes wide. “Sierra!”
“I … I know everything …”
“What?”
Sierra held tight to the extinguisher, suddenly out of breath. “I know … what’s going on.”
Nydia raised an eyebrow. “Could you explain it to me, then?”
“Don’t try and be coy with me, Nydia! I know you’re a shadowshaper —”
“Me? I wish!”
Sierra shook her head. “No, stop! Stop talking. I know you’ve been helping Wick, spying for him —”
“Now, hold up.” Nydia stepped toward her.
“Stop! Don’t come any
closer! Where’s Robbie? Where are you and Wick keeping him?”
Nydia’s eyes got wide. “What are you talking about? You think that I’m helping Wick? Sierra, no …”
“Of course you are. It all makes sense. You’ve been keeping track of my every move, letting him know where I’ll be next.”
“Sierra, listen.” Nydia’s voice was firm; her dark eyes didn’t waver from Sierra’s. “I haven’t been tracking you. I’ve been tracking Wick.”
Sierra lowered the fire extinguisher and then raised it again. Her head was spinning. “Stop lying.”
“It’s true.” Nydia took another step closer.
“Stay back. I’ll smash your head in.” She wanted to break down and sob. Everything was happening way too fast. “You know about the Sorrows. You were surprised when I asked you about them, like … like I was onto you.”
“Sierra, I study the spirit world, yes, but more than that, I study other anthropologists who study the spirit world. That’s part of my research: how researchers get involved and change spirit-worker communities, both for better and worse.”
Sierra put down the extinguisher. “You’re like, what, an anthropologist super spy?”
Nydia smiled. “You could say that. I been watching Wick’s moves for a while now. He really does mean well. Or, he did … but I didn’t trust him. And when he fell off the map, I started looking deeper. That’s when I found out about the Sorrows. Been researching them for the past couple months. It’s …” She shook her head. “It’s dire stuff.”
“But …”
“Sierra, I want to help you. Trust me.”
“You know how to find them, don’t you?” Sierra said slowly. “The Sorrows. You said they were in some church uptown.”
Nydia’s eyes went wide. “Yes, but …”
“Take me.”
“To the Sorrows? No, Sierra, that’s not a good idea. They’re horrible and immensely powerful and … they’ll kill you. Kill us both.”
“How else are we going to find Wick? Do you know where he is?”
Nydia frowned. “No, but —”
“Wick has my … He has someone I care about. He’s after my whole family. He’s …” Sierra fought back a lump in her throat. “He killed my friend Manny and made my granddad incoherent. He’s almost wiped out the shadowshapers. I have to find him. Tonight. The Sorrows gave him his power, but I’m pretty sure they aren’t getting along so well anymore. If I can just —”
“Sierra, you can’t reason with creatures as ancient and powerful as the Sorrows. You can’t …”
“You said you wanted to help me. That you weren’t working for Wick. If you mean it, Nydia, then this is what I need. If not, fine. I’ll find the church on my own.” She turned and headed through the stacks.
“Wait,” Nydia said.
Sierra stopped.
“You’re a shadowshaper, aren’t you?”
She nodded. She was more than that, but the title of Lucera didn’t feel real to Sierra yet; it was still some strange inheritance she couldn’t fully grasp.
“You know shadowshaping won’t work on the Sorrows? Your spirits won’t even go near them probably, especially when they’re on their home turf. All their power is centered in that shrine behind the church.”
“Does this mean you’ll help me?”
“It means I want you to know what you’re getting into. You’re still gonna go after them, even though your powers will be useless?”
“I don’t have a choice, Nydia. The Sorrows will know where Wick is, how to find him — and Robbie. I’ve already seen people I love turned into horrible monsters. I’m not losing Robbie too.”
Nydia raised an eyebrow again. “You’ve seen the Sorrows already, haven’t you?”
Sierra smiled. “I’ll tell you about it on the way.”
They walked quickly through the corridors of books. “The church is at the top of Manhattan,” Nydia said. “You know anyone that has a car and can drive fast?”
Sierra grinned. “Do I ever.”
Neville’s Cadillac Seville screeched to a halt outside an old iron fence on a deserted street.
Nydia exhaled loudly in the backseat. “Jesus.”
Sierra caught her eye in the rearview. “You alright?”
“I will be.” She patted Uncle Neville’s shoulder with a shaking hand. “It’s really nice to meet you, sir. You drive like a wild maniac, and I respect that.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Neville said.
They were at the highest point of Manhattan, not far from the river, in a little corner tucked away behind the West Side Highway. Beyond the fence, a dirt trail led into the darkness. A heavy chain hugged the two elaborately crafted sides of the gate together.
“How we gonna get through that chain?” Sierra said.
Neville smirked. “Oh, I’ll handle that.”
“What if a guard comes?”
“Then I’ll handle that too.”
“Sierra,” Nydia said. “I like your godfather. Let’s do this.”
Neville retrieved an ax with a long wooden handle from the trunk, and Nydia and Sierra watched as he demolished the chain with five swift chops. The gate swung open with a high-pitched whine. “Ladies,” Neville said, bowing slightly. “I would join you in there, but I have a feeling I’ll be more use keeping things on the level out here. I’m no good with the kind of baddies y’all prolly abouta deal with.”
“You … know?” Sierra stammered.
Neville winked. “Don’t forget that your grandpa and I were good friends back in the day.”
“You’re not a shadowshaper, are you?”
“Nah. I had his back through some bad situations, though. I seen enough to know what’s what when there’s some woo-woo mess goin’ down. I’ll stick to the human side of being a badass, thank you very much.”
“Wow,” Sierra said.
“Oh, and here.” He handed her the ax. “Take this.”
“Uncle Neville, I really don’t think …”
“I know, but take it anyway. You don’t know what you gonna find in there, and I’ll feel better if you’re armed.”
“Won’t you —?”
“Don’t you worry about Uncle Neville.” He dapped Sierra, blew a kiss at Nydia, and then posted up by the gate.
Sierra looked at Nydia. “You ready?”
“Is your godfather married?”
“Nydia! Focus! We doin’ this or what?”
“Yes! I’m here.”
Sierra heaved the ax onto her shoulder and they started up the path into the shadows. “What’s your plan?” Nydia asked.
“Plan?”
“Sierra. You asked me to help you reach out to some of the most corrupt, powerful phantoms in the known universe. I brought you here, to their nasty lair, because I like you and I want you to nail Wick for what he’s done to your family. You do have a plan, don’t you?”
“Just show me where they are,” Sierra said. “I’ll do the rest.” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.
Nydia shook her head. “Come on.”
Up ahead, a building towered over them. Steeples stretched up to the moonlit night, and Sierra could make out the gnarly silhouettes of gargoyles jutting out to either side.
“The place was a convent way back when,” Nydia said. “Then it was a mental hospital for a hot second in the seventies, then a crack house. Now it’s abandoned. City doesn’t know what to do with the property, I guess.”
“Charming.”
“Everything in my research points to this spot as the Sorrows’ nesting ground and center of power.”
They reached the top of the hill. Graffiti covered the elaborate wooden doorway of the old cathedral. The statues on either side had their faces scratched off and hands removed. A mountain of trash lay scattered along the steps.
“C’mon,” Nydia said. “I think the churchyard is around back.”
They followed a smaller dirt path around the side of the chapel, past th
e charred remains of a motorcycle.
“How do you even research something like that?” Sierra asked. “Where an ancient gang of spirits hangs out, I mean.”
“A lot of it’s oral histories, the ones most scholars ignore. Tying together urban lore, gossip around the way, and historical documents. A rumor about hauntings here, a scrap of info about some ancient cursed family there. That kinda thing.”
“Sounds kinda awe —”
Sierra stopped in her tracks. Up ahead, the path led to a foot-high stone wall. Beyond it, drooping willow trees presided like mourning gods over a tiny churchyard. Golden light poured out of a circle of pine trees at the far end. “Whoa,” she said.
Nydia blinked. “I didn’t think … I … wow.”
The golden haze illuminated the edges of the willows and a decapitated angel statue. It sent long, trembling shadows reaching toward Sierra and Nydia. A few moments passed.
“You ready?” Nydia whispered.
Sierra nodded.
“Let’s do this, then.”
“No,” Sierra said. “I gotta … I gotta handle this on my own.”
“Sierra …”
“I know. I know you think I’m crazy, I know it’s suicide. I get it. But you gotta let me do this my way, Nydia. You brought me this far, and I appreciate it, believe me I do. But I don’t even know you that well. I can’t go getting you killed too.”
Nydia shook her head. “I don’t like it, Sierra. I know they always say that kinda crap in movies and it all works out okay, but this isn’t that. You can’t do this alone.”
“I know,” Sierra said. “And I’m not alone.” She hugged Nydia, turned, and walked down the dirt path toward the cemetery.
The shadows rose up on either side of her. They pulsed with the same gentle light she’d seen in Coney Island as they glided with long, magnificent strides. She knew they wouldn’t be with her all the way, but just their presence on the short walk to the churchyard made Sierra feel like she was protected.
Sierra walked through a rickety gate and into the churchyard. The shadows hesitated, then breached the low stone wall as one.
The trio of towering shrouds emerged from the pines. Sierra felt the heat of their golden glare on her face. In the grove behind them, three marble statues of women stood beneath the shadowy pines, their hands raised and touching, their legs extended as if frozen in mid-dance to some long-lost music.
Shadowshaper Page 17
