Nicole stumbled and looked underfoot. Railroad ties.
"Are we at the Station already?" she asked.
"Not very far now. Try to keep up."
Hurrying along the railroad tracks wasn't the easiest thing to do. Her rescuer had outrun her.
"Nearly there," he said over his shoulder. His breathing was level, even though he was running quite fast. "Follow me and don't get sidetracked."
Here, the mist thinned out. Ahead, she noticed the outlines of long one-story structures. Some formed neat rows while others were scattered every which way. Railroad cars. Lots of them—enough for a few dozen trains. Beyond them, she could make out a large building and a deep, dark arch swallowing the tracks.
The man slowed down and walked off the track. He offered her his hand, and Nicole accepted it. She liked the comfort of his touch.
"We can hide in a car," he said. "Not an easy job to find somebody in one of them. That one over there looks good enough."
He led Nicole to a rusty, peeling freight car.
Nicole frowned. The railway here was littered with a riot of old stuff. Old watches, purses, gloves, and bottles could have a logical explanation in a place like this, but pillows? Lamps and frying pans? An enormous pumpkin? She stumbled first on a harmonica and then an old teddy bear. Right next to the car, she had to step over a huge grandfather clock.
Something shiny on the ground drew Nicole’s attention. For some reason Nicole wouldn’t have been able to explain, she bent down and picked up an unfamiliar-looking object. She realized it was a hairpin with a gleaming head in the form of a mocking, spiteful smiley face. As she walked behind Gumshoe, she turned the hairpin over in her fingers. There was something about this object that caught the eye. Was it some sort of spark? There was something unusual, even though on the surface, it was nothing more than a hairpin. Nicole didn’t particularly need such an accessory, but after a moment’s thought, she stuck it into the back of her hair. She felt a light caress and nearly cried out and pulled away her hand. It was as if an invisible hand were smoothing her hair. The feeling immediately went away, so she didn’t remove the hairpin because she didn’t feel threatened by it. What interesting things this place threw her way! In fact, the whole City was intriguing.
Gumshoe looked at her. Noticing her surprised glance, he explained, "The mist carries all kinds of stuff around. It brings it here, then takes it back. I'll tell you later."
He leaned against the car's heavy sliding door and pushed it aside. There wasn't even a fold-down step to help her up, which worried Nicole a bit, seeing as her biggest athletic achievement had been climbing a bar stool.
Sensing her embarrassment, the man said, "Ladies first," and lifted her quite effortlessly as Nicole scrambled into the car.
The inside was empty, if you didn't count the large canvas bag by the wall. Her rescuer climbed in with ease and slid the door closed. The car became completely dark, apart from some vent holes overhead.
When Nicole's eyes had gotten used to the dark, she saw that the man was crouching next to the bag, studying it.
"Sand," he explained. "Good for what we need it for."
She wanted to ask, What do we need it for? But the man had already pushed the bag on its side and rolled it toward the wall with the air vents. He climbed onto the bag, stomped on it for a bit, and called her.
"Climb up here with me for a look."
Nicole sensed his offered hand rather than saw it. She grabbed at it and climbed up next to him to look out through the vent grate. The vantage point was perfect. From here, they could see most of the Station.
"Who are they?" Nicole whispered, her eyes on a far-off group of black-robed men walking between the trains. "What do they want from me?"
The man gave her an appraising glance.
"No idea who they are. I don't think anybody in the City knows much about them," the man stressed the word City like he'd done with the word Station, as if both were proper names. "They don't frequent us too often. Good thing they don't. I meant to ask you why they'd been hunting you down, but it looks like you don't know it yourself, do you?"
Nicole shook her head. The man stared at her for a second. Finally, he said, "Well, as neither of us seems to know who they are and what they're capable of, I suggest we shut up before they hear us."
Nicole nodded and clung to the grate, studying the guys in black robes. They approached, clustering together on the tracks. Then she saw the olive-skinned young man. He walked rapidly toward her car. One of the men in black robes showed him something he was holding. Nicole strained her eyes—and grasped at her neck, desperate.
"What's up?" the man asked.
"My scarf," she answered. "No idea how I could have lost it. That's it over there, in that guy's hands."
"Not good," the man said.
The olive-skinned boy—whose forehead scar wasn’t glowing any more—seemed to be giving orders. Then, he walked back, followed by some of the fellows in black robes. Those that had stayed began to check the surrounding cars one by one, closing in on Nicole's hideout.
"We'd better run," she whispered. "This place is a trap."
"The whole City is one big trap," her rescuer answered in a low voice. "We'd better stay put for the time being."
She raised her hand in the dark and clutched her pendant. It was barely warm, not hot. Did it mean that they were not yet in danger?
The dark shadows approached. Nicole looked behind her, wondering if they could still leave unnoticed. Then she heard a voice right next to the car.
"You don't think Inquisitor was acting a bit funny earlier on?"
Her rescuer laid his hand on her shoulder. Nicole froze, holding her breath.
"It's none of our business, Greene," another voice answered. "Who are we to discuss an Inquisitor's motives? The Shadow works in mysterious ways."
Nicole gasped and covered her mouth. It had to be two of the robed men searching for her. Judging by the sound, they stood right next to the car door.
"That may be," objected the one called Greene, "but the Inquisitor has changed since he kissed that girl."
"You're too suspicious for your own good," the other one answered. "Let's check the car. Help me. This door's too heavy."
The screeching of the door was unbearably loud. Nicole's rescuer squeezed her shoulder. Then, from outside, came quiet bubbling noises, followed by a scream.
"It attacked me, may the mist swallow me whole!" the voice yelled.
"Where did it come from?" Greene's gasping voice asked.
"I don't know, do I? It just jumped out of thin air!"
Dull light flashed outside, gleaming through the cracks in the railcar's sides. Somebody swore, and more bubbling sounds were followed by a thump. Somebody must have fallen down.
"Damn spirits," Greene barked. "Get up, you idiot! Run!"
Nicole heard the stomping of fleeing feet. Dull rays of light crept across the car as its source moved outside. Then the light jerked aside and went out. The bubbling had stopped, too.
For a while, Nicole and the man didn't say a word. Then she asked what sounded like the only reasonable question in her situation.
"What was it?"
"Spirits." He removed his hand from under his raincoat. "How can I explain . . . I'd better tell you all about it bit by bit, or you might get confused. Look—they're leaving."
Nicole peered through the grate. The men in black robes were walking away, sliding soundlessly between the trains, one by one, disappearing in the dark. And soon, the Station was deserted—not one of her attackers in sight. The car drowned in the deep silence of the large, empty building.
The man jumped off the bag and opened the door. "Hold my hand."
Nicole scrambled down onto the car floor, her legs numb and unfeeling. She stepped toward the door, tripped, and collapsed into her rescuer's arms. He sat her on the car's edge and jumped down to the ground, then helped her out.
"About time I introduced myself," he said.
Chapter Four
To contact the Shadow, all Mike needed was a straight wall and a source of bright light.
This time, his source of light was a little magic lantern he'd picked up at the toy shop behind City Hall. The shop had been long deserted, of course. Dolls, teddy bears and all kinds of cuddly creatures had stared at the unwanted guest from their dark shelves, where wooden cannons and hobby horses stood next to faded building blocks and deflated footballs.
Mike had already removed the colored lenses and turned on the gas inside the lantern. The silvery refractor sent a beam of bright light through the round hole in the box. Mike placed the lantern on a stool, directed the beam onto the toy shop's empty wall, and stood in the beam with his back to the lantern.
His shadow loomed up on the wall. Mike froze. He stood, motionless, for almost a minute until the shadow deepened, its shape unnaturally black. Slowly, he stepped aside. The outline on the wall didn't move. The scar on Mike's forehead ached a little. He looked down.
He didn't cast a shadow any more.
Mike walked around the stool and stood behind the lantern.
The shadow—his silhouette—had become a window leading into the depths of darkness. There, gradually, two dull lights emerged, glowing, approaching until they became eyes—eyes without pupils or eyelids.
An enormous face pressed itself against the other side of the window.
"Speak," the Shadow said.
The toys on the shelves rattled with the sound of his deep voice. The room shook. The scar on Mike's forehead throbbed with pain.
"The girl has escaped," he said.
He'd been rehearsing this conversation for quite a while. Now, he was weighing every word before he spoke. He wasn't afraid of the Shadow, but Master's displeasure could cost him dearly.
"How?" the Shadow asked.
"Gumshoe interfered. He helped her escape. I think he stands watch on the square every night now."
The Shadow paused. "How many of you were there?"
"Five. And myself."
"And he was alone? One man against all of you?"
Mike's scar ached in unison with Master's words. Although he couldn't see it, he knew that every sound of the deep, low voice made his forehead pulsate with a strand of green light.
"He's got silver bullets in his gun," the Inquisitor explained. "Plus some kind of protection against my relics. I'm sure it's Martha helping him, or maybe someone else."
"Who? Landlady? Or Collector? No, he couldn't have. He's been gone a long time. But then . . . ." the Shadow paused.
"Our strength fades near City Hall," Mike added, stating what his Master knew very well himself. "It's only on misty nights that we can venture there at all—"
"We shouldn't miss a single girl," the Shadow interrupted him. "What if she was the one? You didn't kiss her, did you?"
Mike shook his head, trying to look impassive under the void's gaze.
"What now?" the Shadow said.
"Gumshoe took her to the Station. I sent 13 of my men there with orders to find her. Those were all I could gather. But the Station is one big hiding place."
The Shadow paused. "I'll send you Albino."
With those words, he stepped back into the depths of the darkness that lay behind the human outline of the window. The dull eyes faded away. The enormous face disappeared.
The Inquisitor breathed a sigh of relief. So. Albino. He hadn't expected that. Albino could surely find her. He'd sniff about the square and the site of the fight. He'd single out the girl's smell among all the others . . . quite possible.
Mike walked around the stool and stood at the same spot. He looked down at his feet, then up at his shadow. Shifting ever so slightly, he froze, then stepped aside. His shadow moved with him now, broken at an angle where the floor met the wall.
Mike rubbed the scar on his forehead. When he took his hand away, he saw a thin, greenish residue on his fingers, as if he'd dipped them into fluorescent powder. The green shimmer evaporated from his skin. Mike put out the magic lantern and left the toy shop.
The Station was quite close. He saw Greene from afar—the Shadow's zealous servant who couldn't wait to become an officer himself. Greene waved his hand, pointing at something.
When Mike came closer, he saw that Greene was holding a blue polka dot scarf. The girl had been wearing it, Mike remembered. She must have lost it as she and Gumshoe were jumping up and down the tracks.
His servants were now gathering around him, waiting for his new orders. Mike was treading a very fine line between loyalty to his Master and deceit. To avoid piling lie upon lie, he only told them the last piece of news.
"Albino's joining us. He'll be here soon. This scarf is exactly what he'll need. Let's go now."
"They call me Gumshoe in the City." The man lifted his hat. "Nice to meet you. And what's your name?"
"Nicole," she answered. To her surprise, she wasn't embarrassed at all. Normally, her face flushed every time she gave her name to a man, but now, Nicole felt almost calm. Calm and strangely self-confident. "Have you been living here long? In the City?"
He nodded.
"And how did you . . . I mean, how did you get here?"
"If you really must know, I used to be a detective. I was working on this really complex multiple disappearance case. I got so carried away, I hadn't even noticed that I swallowed the same bait. So I was sucked in here, like all those I'd been trying to bring back. Somebody was leaving strange clues in my hometown for me to find. I followed them. Anyway, it's a long story. Some other time. So you're Nicole, right? Nicole . . . ." He rolled the name on his tongue. "Beautiful name. I like it. So how did you get to the square?"
Casting cautious glances all around, Gumshoe led her along the tracks. Nicole told him her story as clearly as she could in her perplexed state of mind. She told him everything, starting with her recurring dream and ending with the door in Mr. Chuck's office, which wasn't really a door, but a portal to other worlds. She had a funny feeling that she could trust this Gumshoe person. Sharing her story with him made her feel protected. And he was definitely good at helping people, no doubt about it.
The only thing she didn't tell him about was the pendant inherited from Grandma. For some reason, she didn't want anyone to know its story.
"You haven't told me your name," she concluded. "Gumshoe is a kind of nickname, isn't it?"
He shrugged. "Of course I have a name. But it's in the past now. These days, I'm Gumshoe. There aren’t so many people left in the City, and most of those I know choose to go by similar aliases. We have Cardsharp and Train Attendant—wonder where he is, by the way? Train Attendant lives here at the Station, and we haven't seen him yet! I wonder if he's lying low too, hiding from the dark ones. I suggest we take a walk to the dining car. If he's anywhere, he'll be there."
Confident, Gumshoe led her along the tracks and picked up an empty wooden crate on the way. The dining car looked slightly newer than the rest. Gumshoe placed the crate under a window, stood on it, and peered inside.
"There," he said. "We didn't need to worry, after all. Train Attendant is fine. He’s just sleeping it off. He likes his bottle, that Train Attendant. Or rather, he likes his flask. It's a very special flask indeed. It's probably not a good time, anyway."
He jumped off the crate. Now was the right moment to take the bull by the horns and ask him a question, which was perfectly natural under the circumstances.
"Listen, eh, Gumshoe," Nicole began, not at all sure of what she was about to say. "You think you could tell me where we are? But please, no more riddles. No more of this 'the City is one big trap' stuff. You think you can?" She spoke louder with every word, nearly shouting it in his face now. "I don't understand anything. Nothing at all! What is this place? Where is it?"
He sighed and patted her shoulder.
"You have any idea how many locals would be happy to have a hand chopped off if only to get answers to these questions? The City is a riddle in itself." He notic
ed Nicole's fierce glare and stopped mid-word. "Come on, let's go. I'll show you the City in all its beauty. Are you afraid of heights?"
"I'm not," Nicole lied without batting an eyelid. She wasn't going to miss this chance. Just like Gumshoe's real name, her stupid fears belonged in her old life.
He took her to where the last railcar stood close to the Station wall. As Nicole approached, she discovered a steel door. Gumshoe unhooked a bunch of keys from his belt and browsed through them, then chose one and put it into the keyhole. He turned the key, and the door opened.
Whatever Nicole had expected to see there, she hadn't expected a spiral staircase. They took the steps until Nicole lost her breath, arriving at a ceiling hatch with a folding ladder. As Nicole climbed the ladder, she suddenly realized she was quite hungry.
Gumshoe climbed out onto the roof first. Following him, Nicole cautiously approached the fenced-off roof edge and peeked out.
From here, the City was spread out before her. The mist didn't cover all of it. It lay in thick off-white swirls amid the buildings that looked as if they were piercing the clouds. She could see animal-shaped weathervanes on the roofs. Bronze handles and door knockers glistened in the moonlight. Roofs and pavements lay silver under the moon, guarded by gargoyles' winged shadows.
Suddenly, one of the shadows shook its wings and, it seemed to Nicole, looked directly at her. Impossible! But then, as if to confirm that she wasn’t imagining things, the gargoyle lifted its wings, stirring up a small cloud of sparkling blue dust. It floated toward City Hall, leaving a flashing plume in its wake. Nicole gasped quietly and recoiled, but the dust quickly dissipated in the air.
When Gumshoe returned, the gargoyle was impassively sitting where it had been before, motionless, just like a sculpture should be.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I—it’s nothing.” Nicole had the impression that the gargoyle had winked at her. No, it couldn’t be. At this distance, there was no way she could make out the stone beast’s eye. Yet she still felt implicated in a new secret—it was as if the City had just revealed its interest in her.
Hidden City: Lost in the Shadows (Book 1) Page 3
