Gods of Manhattan

by Scott Mebus

  “I sent ahead for some help. We’ll meet up with them right around the corner.”

  They came to a stop in front of a small row house at the end of Raisin Street, where two people waited for them on the lawn. One, a pale old man in faded military dress at least a century old, introduced himself as Colonel Marcus Butterfield, a Civil War veteran who died by mistake when he was cleaning his gun in order to march in the fiftieth anniversary parade. But both Bridget and Rory’s attention was drawn to the woman standing beside him in a simple wool dress, holding an old musket in her hand.

  “I know you!” Rory cried. “You’re that woman from the fort! The Revolutionary War hero!”

  “Margaret Corbin,” the woman said shyly. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You’re a god now?” Bridget asked.

  “Oh no!” Margaret looked scandalized. “Colonel Butterfield and I are merely spirits. We’d never go around pretending we were gods! Just simple spirits with an eye for justice.”

  “We’re gonna learn ’em!” Colonel Butterfield shouted.

  “Shh, sir,” Alexa said, putting a finger to her lips. “This is a covert operation.”

  “Understood, young miss,” he replied so quietly that Bridget could barely hear him.

  “Why are they here?” Fritz asked as he and Liv crawled down from the saddlebags.

  “Just in case,” Alexa said. “You never know when you’re going to need help.”

  “I feel so safe,” Rory whispered drily in Bridget’s ear.

  “Are you ready?” Fritz asked Rory. “We’ll be right here behind you if you need us. Just shout, and we’ll come running.”

  “Okay,” said Rory. He looked both scared and brave, which made Bridget want to cry. Instead she grabbed him and gave him a fierce hug. He struggled until she let go.

  “Man, Bridget.” He gasped. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  “Just be careful,” she said.

  “Get the body first!” Fritz said. “And if there seems to be anything out of the ordinary, turn and run! Hex won’t hurt his only bargaining chip, so Bridget’s body should stay safe. It’s you who has to be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “We’ll keep a lookout for any of Kieft’s men,” said Alexa. “Ready, Rory?”

  Rory took a deep breath.

  “Ready.”

  He turned and walked away. Bridget felt the emptiness within her well up as she watched him go. As he turned the corner that strangeness was spinning like a tornado in her hollow chest, and she wondered how long before it blew her apart. Hurry, she said silently to her brother. I don’t know how much longer I can last….

  Rory felt naked walking down Raisin Street toward Hex’s office. He looked around, but the street was quiet and empty. He slipped into the building and walked up the stairs, trying to keep his heart from beating itself silly. Reaching Hex’s door, he gathered his strength and knocked. He had just enough time to take a deep breath before the door opened and Hex yanked him inside.

  “About time!”

  Hex didn’t look too good. His hair stuck up like little antennae poking out of his head while his eyes shifted around like a crazy person’s. His robes were torn and muddy, as was his forehead with its dab of blood and dirt right smack in the center. He pulled Rory over to the couch and sat him down.

  “Did you bring the lock and the key?” he asked, speaking quickly.

  Rory swallowed and nodded, pulling them both out of his pocket where they’d spent the night.

  “Great!” Hex’s eyes lit up as his face split into a grin. He reached into the desk and pulled out the shining white belt. Rory could see each individual white bead gleaming. He noticed his bracelet was burning even hotter than when he held the key by itself.

  “Is the belt wampum, too?” he asked.

  This threw Hex for a moment.

  “What? Of course it is. Don’t be silly. Put it on! Toy, I need some water!”

  Rory heard a faucet turn on in the next room.

  “Toy is with you?” he asked, disbelieving. “After what you did?”

  “I’m his father,” Hex said simply. “Where else would he go?”

  He handed the belt over. Rory sat there with all three pieces on his lap, but he didn’t touch them. Hex’s smile faded.

  “Come on, what are you waiting for?”

  “Where’s Bridget?”

  Hex paused, then turned and opened the door leading into the next room. There she lay, her face pale, on a small cot.

  “There you go.”

  “Is she all right?” Rory fought to keep his voice steady.

  “She’s fine. I promise! I wouldn’t hurt her unless you forced me to. See her chest moving?”

  Rory could see her chest moving up and down with each mindless breath.

  “How long will her body stay like that?”

  “Don’t you worry about her. You can fix her right up after you turn that key.”

  Rory picked up the belt and tied it around his waist. Immediately he felt a burst of energy flow through him, and everything seemed sharper. He could almost see through the walls.

  He gasped. “What is this thing?”

  “It’s the sachem’s belt. Without it that key won’t work. That wasn’t what the sachem used it for, of course, but anything worth having has multiple uses. Now stick that key in the lock and give her a turn.”

  Hex leaned in, his eyes eager. Rory picked up the key but then stopped.

  “I want to revive Bridget first,” he said.

  “No! No no no!” Hex cried. “We’re so close. We have to do this. You can see to her after.”

  Hex would not budge. Rory could see that the magician knew he held all the cards, no matter what Fritz thought. What else could Rory do? He placed the key in the lock. Suddenly he felt lightheaded as his dream of Wampage came bubbling up from the edges of his brain. And he knew for certain that it was no dream. Believing otherwise had been him trying to fool himself, to believe what he wanted to believe. Other strange realizations flooded through him. He let go of the key, leaving it sticking out of the lock. Hex let out a cry of frustration.

  “You’re killing me, Rory!”

  “You knew, didn’t you?” Rory said. “You knew what Tackapausha would do once the Trap was gone. You knew he wanted to fight.”

  Hex flinched, the guilt in his eyes giving him away.

  “I send rats into the park all the time. Most never return, but a few have supplied me with enough information that I was able to piece it together. I can’t blame him. There’s a lot to be angry about.”

  Rory felt eyes on him, and he glanced to the back of the room to see Toy standing in the doorway, holding a tray in one hand. The other arm ended in a stump, its hand left behind in Tobias’s vault. He didn’t look at Rory; instead, he stared at the lock and key in Rory’s lap. A light went off in Rory’s head.

  “That’s why your son wouldn’t turn the key. He knew what would happen.”

  Hex gritted his teeth. “He said he understood. He knew how important this was to me. But when the time came…”

  Rory could see his sister’s body slowly breathing in the next room. What if he had to pay a price no matter what he did? Which price was higher?

  “And if all the Munsees die?” he asked. “Who wins then?”

  Hex exploded, finally losing his temper. “Who cares! You think I really care about the Munsees? They let themselves get caught by such an obvious trap. They deserve what they get.”

  Rather than shock at Hex’s tirade, Rory felt a wave of understanding. Of course Hex didn’t care about the Munsees. Did he really care about anyone?

  “So you told me lie after lie—”

  “Everything I said was true. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is what else waits inside the park. The secret Kieft hid away right before the Trap was sprung. That is what matters.”

  “What are you talking about? What secret?”

  “The night before the Trap was sprung, Kieft
disappeared into the park accompanied by a group of spirits carrying something hidden under tarps and sheets,” Hex said. “I tried to follow his footsteps and discover his secret, but he trailed snares behind him from which I barely escaped. I was forced to turn around. When Kieft finally reappeared, he was alone. The spirits—and their burden—must have been disposed of deep inside the park.

  “The next day, the Trap was sprung and his secrets were locked away. But now we can open the Trap and discover what he did. And I will use what we find to make Kieft pay for what he did to me!”

  “To you?” Rory felt buried under the avalanche of new information. “What did Kieft do to you?”

  “I was his right-hand man. The only one he trusted. And then he betrayed me, left me for dead. Just because I had witnessed his midnight hike, even though he was fully aware that I had no idea what he had hidden in the park. It didn’t matter. That I knew anything at all was reason enough for him to turn on me. Whatever is in there must be enormously important, maybe even the key to his power, his magic. And now it can finally be mine. So turn the key!”

  Rory could only stare back in astonishment, not even sure what was happening. Hex grunted in frustration.

  “All right, I wasn’t going to do this. I wanted to save it for a surprise afterward. But you’ve forced me to use it as a bargaining chip. There’s something else I think you might be looking for besides your sister. Something more important than Munsees.”

  Hex leaned in close.

  “Have you seen your father lately?”

  Bridget was so concerned with the war going on inside her that she didn’t notice the rumbling at first. By the time she picked up the clomping sounds in the distance, Fritz was already looking behind them.

  “Do you hear that?” he asked. Liv nodded as Alexa peered into the distance. The light bounced off something down the street. Something green…

  “Brokers,” Fritz said, his face gray. “Tobias has found us.”

  Bridget could make them out now, a row of green creatures with big silver teeth, the sun bouncing off their metal bodies. The ground shook as they approached, and Bridget shuddered.

  “We’ve got to warn Rory,” she said.

  “We can’t. We don’t have time,” Alexa said. “We’ve got to stop them here.”

  “What!” Bridget said. “Look at the size of those creatures! We’ve got to grab Rory and get out of here. We can get my body another time!”

  “There may be no other time,” Alexa said. “There may be no other time.”

  “This is suicide,” Liv said. “We can’t stop those things.”

  “Certainly we can,” Colonel Butterfield declared. “I have my pistol. Margaret has her musket. You have your strong character and iron will. We cannot be beaten!”

  “Don’t do this, Fritz,” Liv said, pleading with her husband.

  “Take Bridget to a safe place,” Fritz said. “This is too dangerous for her.”

  The Brokers had caught sight of them, and now they began to run toward the small party. Fritz pulled out what looked like a tiny firecracker and threw it at the monsters. It hit a Broker in the shin and exploded, sending the green creature tumbling to the ground. But the other Brokers kept coming, not even glancing at their fallen comrade.

  “Come on, Bridget,” Liv said urgently. “We have to go.”

  Bridget looked over at Margaret, who was holding her gun to her shoulder as she aimed at the advancing Brokers, and at Alexa with the brick in her hand. She turned back to Liv.

  “They’re here for me,” she said. “I’m not leaving.”

  Before Liv could argue, the monsters were upon them.

  The first Broker knocked Alexa to the ground, but she rolled aside before the monster could stomp her. Margaret stood as calmly as she had that day three hundred years earlier in Fort Tryon, firing her musket into the face of a green creature, knocking it senseless. Colonel Butterfield lost his gun almost immediately, but he pulled out his cavalry sword and swung it at every beast in sight. Fritz tossed another firecracker at the nearest pair of green feet and sent that monster tumbling to the street. Liv joined him, sending firecrackers of her own into the crowd of enemies.

  Everyone around Bridget was fighting, but she was frozen with fear. She didn’t know what to do. Liv yelled over her shoulder for her to run, but Bridget couldn’t move. Not even when the largest Broker came barreling toward her, hitting her headlong in a move destined to crush her into a flat paper pancake.

  It never happened.

  Bridget shook her head to clear it. She was still standing, but by the way the Broker cocked its head at her in confusion, she shouldn’t be. By all rights, she should be dead, but she hadn’t felt a thing. What was going on? The Broker came at her again, and this time she jumped at it, whacking it with her shoulder. It fell onto its back, its shiny metal face confused by how this little girl had hurt it. A glimmer of an idea passed through Bridget’s head. Could it be…? She swung at the Broker again, and it went flying through the air to land halfway across the street. Fritz turned to look at Bridget in amazement.

  “How did you do that?” he asked.

  The body. It was her papier-mâché body. Flavio said he’d made it strong; he just never said how strong. A smile dawned on Bridget’s face. She was a superhero! Who needed steel-tipped boots when she had a steel-tipped body! A Broker ran past her, heading for Hex’s apartment. The pressure in her chest completely forgotten, she chased it, taking it down before it could get too far. Margaret raised her musket in salute as Colonel Butterfield let out a whoop of triumph.

  “You are a warrior born, little lady,” he cried.

  Another Broker tried to get past, and she chased it down, too. But there were so many of them, not even her new super-strength could keep them all back. Turn the key, she thought to Rory. We can’t hold them forever. Then she returned to the task at hand, launching herself back into the fray without a second thought.

  Rory heard something in the distance, but he was too focused on Hex to give it a thought.

  “What do you know about my dad?”

  “You’ve seen him recently, haven’t you, Rory?” Hex said softly.

  Rory shook his head to clear it. He flashed back to the memory of the ship gliding past him on the river, the familiar face from the photographs looking over the side.

  “That wasn’t real. I imagined it.”

  “It was real. I caught a glimpse of it when I put the spell on your forehead. You saw your father’s face on the Half Moon when it sailed past the park. You saw him on board.”

  “It wasn’t real,” Rory insisted, though he wasn’t sure at all. What if Hex knew something about his father? Would he really care? Rory expected to feel nothing, but for some strange reason, he felt hope instead.

  “I looked into it after you left yesterday,” Hex continued. “I think you might be very interested in what I found. Just turn the key, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know. You can have your whole family back together again, with no one chasing you. You don’t owe anyone else anything. They never helped you when you needed it. They work your mother to the bone, and they sure don’t care about you or your sister. Just turn the key and it will all be over.”

  The sounds of shouting drifted through the window, and Hex gave a quick look out. He blanched.

  “How did they find me!” he cried. “Did you bring them with you?”

  Rory looked outside, where a full-fledged battle was taking place on the street. Green Brokers of Tobias were everywhere, fighting his friends. One monster roared as it rushed a small form below.

  “Bridget?” Rory whispered, his heart stopping in fear. But his sister calmly grabbed the Broker and sent it skidding down the street.

  “Bridget!” Rory repeated, this time in shock.

  “I see you visited Flavio,” Hex said wryly. “Very wise. And very dangerous. His creations are not such long-term investments, as I’m sure he told you.”

  “They’re getting
clobbered,” Rory said, stricken.

  “They’re doing this for you, Rory,” Hex said. “Those Brokers are here to stop you, and your friends are holding them back. Why is this such a hard choice for you? You never worried about anyone but your family, and now you can have them all back, safe and sound. Who cares about the rest of them? They’re not your friends. They’re just like me, using you. Only they don’t have the courtesy to admit it. Just turn the key. Turn it and you can have your life back, better than new.”

  Rory reached down and put his hand on the key. He did want it. He wanted his sister back. He wanted to see his father again, even if it was just to punch him in the nose. All those people who would suffer—he didn’t know them. They weren’t his responsibility. It wasn’t even a choice, really. Not a choice at all.

  He turned the key.

  “What are you waiting for?” Hex broke in finally.

  Rory looked down in confusion. He could have sworn he’d turned the key, but there it was, just the same as before, sticking out of the lock. He steeled himself and turned it again. Once again, his hand didn’t move. He couldn’t make himself do it. He couldn’t let all those people die. And now Bridget would be lost because of it.

  Resigned, he opened his mouth to tell Hex this when the door slammed open to admit a bloodied Alexa van der Donck.

  “Rory!” she yelled. “The Brokers are breaking through!”

  Hex cursed.

  “Turn it!” he cried.

  Alexa took a look at Hex, who was no longer invisible. Her mouth dropped.

  “Aaron!”

  Hex stared back at her, momentarily confused. In that moment, Toy dropped his tray and lunged for the lock in Rory’s hand, pulling it away from the stunned boy in one swift motion. Rory was left with the key dangling from his fingers.

  “Toy! What are you doing?” Hex shouted. He lunged for the paper boy, but Toy was too quick. He raced toward the back windows that overlooked the alley behind the building and burst through the glass. Landing on the street below, he ran down the alley with the lock in hand, turned the corner, and was gone.