Gods of Manhattan

by Scott Mebus

  At first, Fritz hadn’t wanted to let Bridget come after Rory with him. But she quickly disabused him of that particular notion.

  “You need me!” she said, pulling on her boots defiantly. “Do you think Rory’s gonna listen to some strange cockroach popping up out of nowhere? If I’m not there, why would he listen to you?”

  Fritz reluctantly saw the wisdom in that, and soon they were on the subway heading downtown. At one point, Nicholas stepped out between the cars with Fritz in his hand and, from what Bridget could see, they started arguing about something. She was so intent on watching them, she didn’t even notice the singing until it was coming from right behind her. The old doo-wop song finally caught her ear, however, and she turned to look right into the eyes of the same subway musician who’d spoken to her and Rory the day before. He was alone this time, and he seemed to be singing just for her. He finished his ditty to applause throughout the car and swept off his fedora to collect the money. While doing so, he threw a wink in Bridget’s direction. Unsure of what to do, she pulled out some money to drop in his hat.

  “Keep your quarters, child. You’re gonna need ’em,” he said, closing her hand back around the silver.

  “Um. Okay.” Stung, Bridget put her money back in her pocket. “For a street singer, you sure do turn down a lot of money.”

  “It’s late for a girl like you to be out and about, ain’t it?” he asked her as the train pulled into a station, the doors opening silently to let off passengers.

  “I’m going to meet my brother, and I know kung fu,” she replied. “And don’t you be sayin’ something weird about my dreams or something or I’ll, I’ll, I’ll step on your toes!”

  He looked down.

  “I like your boots.”

  Bridget glanced down at her steel-tipped clompers.

  “Thanks.”

  “Nice sword, too.”

  Bridget blushed, trying to hide the cardboard sword she had brought with her. It made her feel like a hero to be carrying Buttkicker. “I like it.”

  “You just need one more thing,” he said, grinning widely.

  “What?”

  He reached out and tapped her forehead. Her eyes closed briefly and she shivered, feeling something race through her.

  “What was that?” she demanded. But the door was closing behind the grinning black man, who’d somehow made it outside during the second her eyes had been shut. She was still shaken when Fritz and Nicholas returned. She told them all about it. They exchanged a look.

  “Was that who I think it was?” Nicholas said thoughtfully.

  “Could have been,” Fritz replied, worry on his face. “I wonder what he wanted.”

  “What are you talking about!” Bridget demanded, but they wouldn’t explain. They didn’t want to worry her, they said. Which was pretty stupid, she thought, since she was probably more worried being kept in the dark. An old woman across the way gave her a weird look and she realized how crazy she appeared, talking to invisible people on the subway, so she lapsed into a pouting silence. Nicholas joined her in her pout, so he must not have liked the decision he and Fritz had come to out between the subway cars. After a moment, she put her hand over her mouth and whispered down to Fritz.

  “Can you at least tell me what’s so scary about this bank?” she asked. The woman gave her another disapproving look, so Bridget stuck out her tongue at the old lady, who sniffed and went back to reading her magazine. Fritz leaned up against his rat, Clarence, and started to explain.

  “About fifty years ago, my clan was approached by a man named Tom Hill and his son, Jason. They wanted to release the Munsees by breaking into Tobias’s bank to get to this magic belt he had stashed away in his vault. Our clan leaders forbid it, but a few of us decided to help anyway. Four battle roaches went into the bank with Tom and his son, and I hold their names dear to my heart: Captain Lymph, Lieutenant-Captain Pieter, Sergeant Bertold, and Private Tieg. I would have gone as well, but my wife begged me not to, and out of love for her I stayed. So six went in, but only Bertold came back out. I found him lying on the pavement outside the bank and he died in my arms, but not before he warned me of a monster.”

  “What kind of monster?” Bridget whispered, her heart beating fast.

  “He died before he could say. But we’re going to catch up to Rory before he meets this monster. Don’t worry.”

  This tale of horror made Bridget doubly frightened for her brother, but something else tugged at her.

  “Wait a second. That was fifty years ago!” she said, louder than she intended. The old woman across the way got up and quickly moved to the other end of the train. “Cockroaches live like a week. That’s impossible.”

  “Is that the truth?” Nicholas said, breaking his own silence with a small smile.

  “I am over a hundred years old,” Fritz said patiently. “We roaches last forever. We’re hard to kill. Even when you think we’re dead, we’re usually just pretending so you’ll flush us down the toilet and we can make our way back home. You humans don’t know everything you think you do.”

  The train arrived at City Hall, and five minutes later they were out on the street. The reason for Nicholas’s unhappiness was revealed when Fritz sent the young man on his way, refusing to let him risk being caught in the bank.

  “They catch me, I’m just a renegade with a grudge,” Fritz said. “They catch you, and the whole Rattle Watch will end up in the Tombs or worse, especially after that business with the sandhog. It’s better to be safe than sorry. I’ll send word the minute we’re out.”

  “Protect him,” Nicholas answered. “But don’t forget, we don’t know yet what he’s supposed to do. Maybe this is it.”

  “Maybe,” Fritz answered. “But I won’t let him face it alone.”

  After one last worried look, Nicholas turned and disappeared down a side street. Bridget turned to Fritz, who was staring thoughtfully toward the corner.

  “I thought I saw a rat,” he said.

  “Well, it is the city,” Bridget replied. “We have a lot of rats.”

  “You’re right,” Fritz said, shaking it off. “I’m just on edge.”

  Fritz led them around to the back of the bank. Bridget followed after him, her new steel-tipped boots sending loud echoes through the deserted city streets.

  “No one here now,” he said, looking around the empty corner. He turned Clarence around and rode up the street. Bridget ran after him.

  “Where are we going?” she asked him. “Do you remember how to get into the bank?”

  “I wasn’t ever let in on that particular secret. So I’m gonna ask for some help.”

  “What kind of help?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Fritz headed to the far corner of the block behind the bank. As they approached the side of the building, Bridget could just make out a statue near the wall. Gray as concrete, the statue was of a young woman in a long evening gown. Her gray hair was piled up on top of her head while one gray-slippered foot balanced a bit forward, toe pointing down, as if she were about to pirouette. As they came closer, Bridget was struck by how lifelike the statue appeared. If not for its complete stillness, it could almost be one of those performers in Times Square, the living statues that would appear to be stone but would suddenly move at the drop of a coin in their bucket. In fact, now that she stood right in front of it, Bridget could swear it was a real woman, standing on this dark street corner in the middle of the night waiting for a stray tourist to wander by and make her dance. But her skin did not appear to be painted; it seemed to be hard stone.

  Bridget whispered down to Fritz. “Is she real?”

  “A real what? Human? No. Statue? No. Do you have any quarters?”

  She pulled the quarters she almost gave the subway singer out of her pocket. Fritz gestured to a small bag at the statue’s feet.

  “Toss one in.”

  Bridget dropped a quarter in the bag. Immediately, the statue sprang into motion, stepping forward daintily on her
front toe and dipping into a curtsy. A light but raspy voice flew out of her stone mouth.

  “I’m a living statue, little girl. Alexandria Haverford is my name. I am not human, nor am I statue. But I am indeed made of stone.”

  Alexandria finished speaking and ceased moving all at once, locked in her curtsy. Bridget asked another question.

  “Why are you back here in the middle of nowhere?”

  Alexandria didn’t respond. Trying to move things along, Fritz gestured to the bag. Bridget dropped in another quarter, launching Alexandria into action. She lifted out of her curtsy and rose to her toes, her arms arched over her head like a ballerina.

  “This is where I rest. No one bothers me here. The worst that can happen is a little spray paint, and the street cleaners are kind enough to scrub me clean. During the day I am out in the park, collecting coins and delighting the children as my kind are made to do.”

  She froze again, impossibly balanced on her tippy-toes. Fritz tapped his foot impatiently.

  “Are we done chatting? We need some information. Have you seen a man and a young boy come by here in the last half hour?”

  Bridget tossed in another quarter. Alexandria dipped down again, her back leg lifting high into the air.

  “I spied a man and two boys not fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Great, we’re not that far behind!” Fritz exclaimed. “Where did they go?”

  Bridget dropped her last quarter in the bag, prompting the graceful statue to reach out with her arms imploringly, pointing to the road.

  “They disappeared into the middle of the street like magic. This has been quite a night for magic; I’m not used to all the excitement. I’ll be glad when you’re all gone.”

  She ceased to move, locked with her arms outstretched. Fritz gestured to Bridget, who was looking through her pockets.

  “Come on, let’s check it out,” Fritz said. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m looking for a quarter so I can say thank you.”

  “There’s no time. Come on!”

  And they rushed off, leaving the statue behind. Bridget shivered. How awful it must be to be trapped in stone like that. So cold. They reached the center of the street where the statue had pointed. Fritz studied the ground.

  “There has to be something here. A trapdoor, something.”

  But neither of them could find anything. Finally, Fritz threw up his hands in frustration.

  “I don’t understand it. Maybe this Hex is a better magician than I thought.”

  “Come on! Rory needs us!” Bridget cried. She banged her fist against the ground three times, showing how angry she was. Suddenly, a section of the street fell away, opening a hole right underneath Fritz, who barely had time to look surprised before falling down into it. Bridget peered over the edge.

  “Fritz! What did I do? Are you all right?”

  A small voice drifted up.

  “I’m good. Dusty, but good. You’d better come down here.”

  A few moments later, Bridget was standing in the tunnel, lowering Clarence to the ground just as the hole above them closed up, leaving them in darkness.

  “Awful spooky in here,” she said.

  “It sure is.”

  There was a pause.

  “Did you bring that flashlight?” Fritz asked finally.

  “Oh yeah.”

  Embarrassed, Bridget pulled out the flashlight and turned it on. The light revealed an old passageway leading off into the distance.

  “Somebody was here, all right.”

  Fritz pointed down at the dust, where she could plainly see footprints. Fritz climbed on Clarence and started to ride ahead. Bridget followed carefully. Fritz looked back at her.

  “You have to be the luckiest girl alive, finding that trapdoor.”

  She shrugged.

  “I’m Malibu Death Barbie.”

  They walked forward, following the footsteps in the dust, hoping that they could catch up with Rory before it was too late.

  16

  THE LUCKIEST GIRL IN THE WORLD

  Bridget moved through the passageway quickly, forcing herself to slow down when she left Fritz too far behind. The footprints went ever ahead, even as the walls and the floor changed. She listened as she walked for any voices floating back toward her, but the air remained stubbornly silent. She had no idea how far ahead they’d gotten. The tunnel led onward, endlessly. Then, suddenly, she came upon the first door.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Fritz answered, catching up to her. “I guess we go in. Stay behind me!”

  “You’re three inches tall.”

  “Just do it! Now open the door.”

  Bridget reached out and turned the knob, stepping into 1776.

  The sound of gunfire made Bridget cry out. She whirled around, taking in all the soldiers and the cannons.

  “What is this?” she screamed.

  “It’s the past! This must be a memory room! Get down!”

  Bridget dropped to the ground by Fritz as a cannonball landed behind them, sending up a shower of dirt.

  “What do we do?” she asked him.

  “There has to be a way out. Get behind those barrels!”

  She crawled over to some barrels of grain, hiding behind them to escape the musket balls. Fritz joined her.

  “Some memory rooms are designed to keep you inside them forever. Others are just supposed to kill you. I don’t know which this is. Hopefully the first kind.”

  “I don’t want to be stuck in here forever!” Bridget cried.

  “Rory might be here, too,” Fritz answered her. “I’m going to take a look. Stay here! I didn’t bring you along to let you get shot!”

  He rode off. Bridget watched as a woman ran by holding a cannonball. A girl soldier! Keeping low to the ground, Bridget ran up to her.

  “Excuse me? Lady? Have you seen a magician and two kids?”

  The woman turned to her, her face shocked to see a little girl.

  “Get away, little one! This is no place for a child! The British are at our throats!”

  Suddenly a cannonball landed right on the barrel Bridget had been hiding behind, destroying it completely. The woman shook her head.

  “You are a lucky one. Go!”

  She ran off toward the cannons. Bridget made her way to the wall opposite a door in the fort. Looking closely, she could see that the latch had been pulled off, leaving the door hanging partly open. Someone really should have stuck a lock on that thing….

  “Retreat!”

  A voice yelled out the command. Suddenly everyone began to run away. Bridget watched as the woman soldier was carried by two of her fellows, her shoulder bloody. Bridget hoped she’d be okay. Fritz rode up.

  “I think we should follow them. Maybe we can find a place of safety and figure this out. Come on!”

  He began to ride off, followed by Bridget, when suddenly the door behind them flew open, and soldiers in red coats streamed in, guns pointed right at them. Bridget put up her hands, backing up, as Fritz did the same.

  “Are they taking us prisoner?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Fritz answered.

  The soldiers raised their guns and prepared to fire. Bridget stumbled back, throwing up her hands in front of her face. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. She was Malibu Death Barbie! She had a sword! She wasn’t supposed to get shot! Bridget braced herself for the pain, falling back as the guns rang out—

  She landed with a thud. Confused, she felt all over her chest—no holes. Spinning around, she was more than a little surprised to find herself in another tunnel, looking through the wall at the fort, where a group of very confused solders stared in her direction. Fritz and Clarence suddenly leaped through the hole, landing at her side. The hole faded, leaving behind a plain wall.

  “You are something else,” Fritz said admiringly.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “You stumbled back and just fell through the w
all. You must have happened upon the doorway by mistake. You okay?”

  Bridget pushed herself to her feet.

  “Yeah. I think I am.”

  She noticed that Fritz was staring up at her thoughtfully.

  “Have you always been this lucky?” he asked.

  Bridget thought it over.

  “I guess. I mean my dad left when I was a baby, my mom can barely afford to buy me new shoes, and my brother is walking into a death trap.”

  “So this is recent,” Fritz said.

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “Nothing. I just think it’s interesting. That’s all.”

  He urged Clarence to continue forward. Bridget gave herself a good shake, a smile peeking through her lips. She was something else, wasn’t she? She brandished her sword before her and strode forth, ready to take on whatever came her way.

  Bridget found it hard to keep track of time as they moved through the dank tunnel. They didn’t seem to be gaining on Rory. They couldn’t hear anyone up ahead at all.

  “Do you think they got out of that last room?” Bridget asked, her lip trembling at the thought.

  “Look down. What do you see?”

  Of course. Footprints in the dust.

  “We’ll catch up, Bridget,” Fritz promised.

  “Okay. I know.”

  But she didn’t know that; the thought made her stomach hurt.

  Eventually they came to another door, and pushed their way through to a beautiful sight.

  “Look at all this treasure!” Bridget gasped. She gazed around in wonder at all the piles and piles of gold and jewels surrounding her. Fritz gestured impatiently.

  “Come on. We’re not here for money. Just follow the footprints!”