by Scott Mebus
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Rory whispered. “He’s the snake from my dreams. It’s a trap.”
Seeing them about to bolt, the Munsee raised a hand and shouted some foreign words. Rory immediately froze in place. His eyes grew wide with fright as he struggled to move his limbs. Bridget frantically tugged at him, but he seemed as rooted in place as the angel statue above them.
The Munsee hopped out of the canoe and quickly crossed the plaza. He was smiling, though his snakes appeared even scarier up close.
“What are you waiting for?” Fritz called, almost from their feet. “Run!” But Rory could not budge and Bridget would not leave her brother.
“Soka sends her regards,” the Munsee said, and the snakes on his cheeks actually moved as he spoke. “Unfortunately, you won’t be speaking to her or anyone else ever again, Sabbeleu.”
With that, he pulled out a bone knife and lunged at Rory, the snakes hissing as he attacked. Without thinking, Bridget leaped into the attacker, knocking him to the side. They both hit the ground hard and rolled up against the fountain. The Munsee’s face ended up right by hers, the snakes appearing to almost leap off the skin at her eyes. She scampered away, terrified. The snake Munsee seemed to see her for the first time, and his eyes widened in surprise.
“I can see what you are, demon,” he said. “Well, those who tamper with the dark arts should not be surprised at their fate.”
He began to chant while making intricate shapes in the air with one hand. Frightened, Bridget tried to push herself to her feet to put some distance between her and the Munsee. But before she could get her legs beneath her, the chanting reached a crescendo and his hand reached out to grab her wrist. A shock ran through her as the paper skin beneath his fingers began to turn black and flake away. One by one, her fingers began to curl, like newspaper in a fire, and her pinkie fell right off her hand. She screamed and pulled away. His hand brushed against her ankle, and her leg began to blacken as well. She started to cry.
“Stop it!” she sobbed, kicking at the Munsee. “Leave me alone!”
“Soon you will trouble the world no longer, demon,” the snake Munsee said, smirking. “And now for the Sabbeleu . . .”
Suddenly the Munsee’s eyes turned white and he began to flail about.
“Come, we must run,” a female voice said behind them. “I don’t know how long my magic will last.”
Bridget felt herself picked up by strong arms, but she didn’t bother to see who was rescuing her. Her eyes were glued to her hand, where her four remaining fingers were now blackened and curling. Another fell off and she whimpered at the sight.
“I’m falling apart,” she moaned. No one answered her as she was carried out of the plaza into the trees. She saw the snake Munsee writhing on the ground, clutching at his face. The majestic angel statue seemed to watch from above. Then the trees cut off her view and she was left with the sight of another finger falling to the ground, left behind like the shriveled husk of a dead insect.
13
BRIDGET UNRAVELS
The man with the black eyes sat stiffly behind the desk in his office at the top of one of the tallest buildings in the city. His shades were drawn, as usual, and the flickering fire in the hearth provided the only light in the room.
“I don’t understand why you’re here, Caesar,” he said, every ounce of him suspicious.
The God of Under the Streets shrugged, his fedora held lightly between his long fingers as he sat on the other side of the desk. He looked as if he were applying for a job. But the black-eyed man was not fooled—after all, Caesar Prince was one of the few gods he respected enough to deem an adversary. Prince leaned forward to speak. “You and I both know that the time has come to choose sides. That’s what I’m doing. I’m choosing a side.”
“My side?” the man with the black eyes said, his voice amused. “I find that hard to believe.”
“I’ve been on your side before, Willem,” Caesar reminded him. That was true; at one point Caesar Prince had been a valuable ally.
“That was long ago,” the black-eyed man answered. “You’ve since drifted away on your own, down to your tunnels and your sewers. I don’t know what you do down there. And I don’t know who you do it for.”
“Whatever I do, I do for myself,” Caesar replied lightly. “Haven’t I always?”
“I ask again, why are you here?”
“I heard a song today. Catchy tune. About a Munsee boy and a girl from Mannahatta and their searing love story. It ends badly; they always do. You heard it yet?”
“It is a nuisance,” the black-eyed man snarled. “Nothing more.”
“They’re fighting back,” Caesar said, matter-of-factly. “My Trap is coming down soon, we all know that, and now we’re playin’ a game of tug-of-war over what happens next. That song is quite a tug. Apparently Hamilton heard it on the street, fell apart, and then locked himself in his office.”
“That is quite the . . . overreaction.”
“It is indeed.” Caesar laughed. “It is indeed. You need to tug back, Willem. If you do it hard enough, I think you’ll win. That’s why I’m here. At one point the Munsees will find out that I engineered the Trap and they’ll want their revenge on me, too. Better to end the threat right at the start.”
“What do you propose?” The black-eyed man gave nothing away.
“So many of your opponents are falling ill, aren’t they? A bad touch of flu, maybe? All the voices of reason are falling silent, one by one, until only your voice, through Hamilton, of course, will be heard. That’s the plan, right? No one to argue when the Trap comes down and the order to fight pops out of the Mayor’s mouth. It’s a good plan. Except for one stubborn old mule: Peter Stuyvesant. The original thorn in your side. He won’t touch anything not cooked by his little lady. So he manages to stay miraculously healthy in the face of so much sickness.”
“Why are you telling me this?” the black-eyed man asked.
“There is one other person he’d break bread with, you know. Someone who could hand him a bowl of soup without fear of being denied.”
“Who is that?”
Caesar Prince smiled, his teeth glinting in the firelight. “Me.”
The small group burst into a clearing by the edge of the park. Rory watched Tammand lay Bridget on the grass while Soka knelt by her side. The two of them had run up from behind Rory and Fritz, and Soka had cast some sort of spell on the Munsee with the snakes on his face. Rory had been shocked to see Tammand, but he had no time to question as the Indian warrior lifted Bridget as if she were a hollow plastic lawn ornament and raced off into the trees as his sister urged them to follow.
“That was a trap,” Fritz said as the Munsee siblings looked over Bridget. “Was that your doing?”
“Of course not,” Tammand said curtly.
“But, my dreams . . .” Rory began.
“That first time, I reached out to you and you came,” Soka explained as she examined Bridget’s damaged body. “But then Askook, that’s the man who attacked you, blocked me from telling you what I knew. I tried reaching out to you again, but he would never let me through. He must have pretended to be me to lure you here. I’m surprised you listened—did I not tell you not to enter the park?”
“I just wanted to see if you were okay . . .” Rory mumbled.
Tammand snorted.“You are the one who should be counting his blessings. Mother saw in the smoke that you would be at the fountain and sent Soka to warn you. I followed to keep her safe, since I know that Askook is not to be trusted, even if he has the Sachem’s ear. Today was filled with luck for you, Pretty Nose.”
Soka looked up at Rory.
“Who did this to her?” she asked, her eyes angry.
“That weirdo with the snakes,” Rory answered. “You saw him.”
“No,” Soka said. “Who put her in this prison?”
“The body?” Rory was confused. “We had to do it to save her life. And after she was okay, I let her keep it. A
s a souvenir.”
“A souvenir?” Soka’s voice was incredulous.
“I didn’t see the harm. But then she started to use the body again, secretly. Since she was invulnerable and everything. I wasn’t happy about it, but she convinced me she was all right for this one time only.”
“That other man called her a demon,” Fritz said. “What did he mean?”
“You are like children!” Tammand’s voice dripped with disdain. “You play with things you know nothing about. This is ancient magic. Forbidden magic. Playing with it puts your very soul at risk!”
“We’re really sorry about that,” Rory said, struggling to keep his temper, though all he wanted to do just then was punch the self-righteous jerk in the face. “But what did that maniac do to my sister?”
“He cast a spell that reverses the magic,” Soka said. “Slowly, Bridget’s body is disintegrating. Soon her soul will simply fly free.”
“I don’t want to fly free!” Bridget cried miserably. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean it.”
“Can you do anything to help her?” Fritz asked.
“My mother once told me about a way,” Soka said, sounding uncertain. “But I’ve never actually tried it . . .”
“You have to,” Rory urged her. “Please. I’ll do anything.”
“But I could make things worse,” Soka said, fear creeping into her voice. “I could destroy her forever.”
“Leave her,” Tammand said. Rory shot him a look of utter hatred. “We cannot help her and we will all suffer if we are caught together. Come, Soka! I must get the Sabbeleu to Tackapausha.”
“Please don’t leave me!” Bridget cried, reaching out for Soka with her good hand. Soka seemed paralyzed with indecision. Fritz gave Tammand a look of utter disdain.
“You’d leave her to die?” he said. “Have you no soul?”
Rory felt no hesitation as he stared down at his sister, who was falling apart in front of him. He turned to Soka.
“You’ve got to try,” he said calmly. She looked over with terrified eyes.
“But I could make a mistake,” she whispered. “I’ve never tried anything like this before, with someone’s life in my hands . . .”
“You took care of that snake man without a problem,” he said, forcing his voice to stay even.
“I know, but that spell had never worked before!” Soka admitted, her eyes filling with tears. “I was as surprised as anyone!”
This shook Rory’s confidence, but he had no choice.
“I know you can do it,” he said. “You’re meant for great things, you told me so yourself. Remember what you said when we met? That you were levelheaded, and that was why you would be a great leader of your people. Forget about the fear, just look inside yourself. Can you do it?”
She stared back at him, eyes terrified, while her brother waited impatiently to leave. Finally, she nodded.
“I think I can,” she said.
“Then you have to,” he said.
“I will,” she said, and the fear in her eyes receded as she decided to do something. Her brother made an angry noise and backed away.
“Stop, Tammand!” she ordered him. “I need your knife and your help.”
“I will not be a party to this,” he began, but she shushed him with a look.
“You will do as I tell you, or I’ll make you regret it!” Soka held out her hand, and finally, Tammand passed her a long knife with a copper blade. He looked angry, but he didn’t leave. Instead he joined Rory and Fritz as they watched nervously. As she turned herself over to her magic, Soka’s face grew utterly still; she bowed her head over the knife, muttering words to herself. Suddenly the blade began to glow softly. Soka looked up, her forehead glistening with sweat.
“Here we go,” she said, smiling down at Bridget, who gazed back with eyes filled with trust. Then Soka lifted the knife into the air and brought it down onto Bridget’s wrist.
“No!” Bridget cried, and Rory felt his face go white. But it was too late. Bridget’s hand dropped to the ground, neatly sliced off at the wrist. Soka did not stop to admire her handiwork. She immediately swung the knife again, this time aimed at Bridget’s ankle. Bridget cried out as her infected foot fell to the earth. Rory dropped down to her side, cradling her head in his arms. Fritz stared up at Soka, face red with anger.
“What did you do?” he hissed. “You cut off her limbs!”
“I had to, to stop the spell from spreading,” she replied, her voice shaking slightly as she inspected the cuts in Bridget’s arm and leg. “I think we’re all right. I see no further evidence of disintegration.”
“I knew you could do it,” Rory said as Bridget lay in his arms whimpering.
“It’s not over yet,” Soka answered him.
“Are you okay, Bridget?” Fritz said softly.
“I don’t know,” Bridget replied. “I felt something when you cut me. Like something inside me almost broke free. I’m doing everything I can to keep it in me.”
“That’s your soul,” Soka said. “It was never meant to be trapped like this. It is doing its best to escape the prison you’ve encased it in. That is why this magic is forbidden. It is an unholy state and the soul itself fights against it. We have to plug these holes in you or your soul might break free.”
“How do we do that?” Rory asked.
“Tammand, I need some bark from a chestnut tree,” Soka said. Tammand glared at her. “Now!” she said. He turned and disappeared into the trees. Without a word, Fritz followed him.
“Can we trust him to come back?” Rory asked. Soka gave him a withering look.
“He is my brother. Of course he will return.”
Bridget lay still with her eyes closed, fighting to keep her insides intact. It had badly frightened her to learn that the origin of that pressure she’d felt was her actual soul trying to escape. She really had been playing with something she didn’t understand. As she struggled to stay whole, an image of Toy sprang into her head. His soul must have been trying to escape for fifty years. How had he held on to it? He’d had holes cut into him by the snow beetle in Tobias’s bank, and he’d lost his hand to a Broker. Yet he held on. That thought gave her strength. If he could do it, so could she.
Soka and Rory sat on either side of her. She felt sorry for Rory; every time she tagged along, something bad seemed to happen to her. No wonder he was always telling her to stay home. Next time she would, she promised silently. Once this was all over, she’d march right home to bed and not leave for a week.
“Thank you for this,” Rory said to Soka. “You saved her life.”
“Thank you for trusting me,” Soka said, her eyes lowering. “My own mother doesn’t always think I can live up to the standards she sets for me.”
“She’ll get there,” Rory said, smiling. “Moms can be pretty blind sometimes.”
“Why did you come back yet again?” Soka asked him. “I told you not to.”
“I discovered something about Olathe,” he said. He explained about Abigail.
“Tackapausha must have known who Olathe was,” Soka said, stunned by this new revelation. “But he told no one, even after. That poor girl . . .”
“What is the deal with that guy with the snakes on his face?” Rory asked.
“Askook,” she said, making a face. “He is a tribal elder. He is one of the reasons my mother wanted you away from the park. She has believed for some time that he had a hand in setting the Trap. Before the Trap, he had little power. But since, his magic has grown while others’ magic has waned. Mother believes someone is helping him. He would never allow the Trap to be opened, and so it is no surprise he would try to kill any Sabbeleu he encounters. But since you are leaving the park, and this time you WILL stay out, he will no longer be a threat to you. You are leaving, right? Because sometimes I wonder if your brain was damaged by this great heat.”
Bridget stifled a giggle. She liked this girl!
“I’m leaving,” Rory promised. “But I will bring this
Trap down. Without a war. This has to stop.”
“I believe you will,” Soka said, smiling slightly. The two of them locked eyes over Bridget’s body, and it seemed to Bridget that she no longer existed. It was a little gross. She coughed to break the moment.
“Where’s your bro?” she asked Soka, ignoring her own brother’s annoyed look. As if in response, Tammand glided out of the trees, Fritz at his heels. He laid a pile of bark at his sister’s feet. Then he wordlessly turned and vanished into the forest. Soka watched him go, her face sad. Fritz coughed, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“I thought the chestnut was extinct on Manhattan,” the roach said, feeling the bark.
“We brought seeds with us when we answered the Mayor’s call for a new homeland,” Soka explained, turning back to her charge as she gathered the bark into her arms. “We are not so careless with our treasures as some.”
Soka placed the bark on Bridget’s two stumps. She glanced at Rory’s wrist.
“May I borrow your wampum? It will help concentrate the magic.”
“Sure,” he said, pulling off the purple bracelet. Soka slipped the wampum over one of Bridget’s stumps.
“Let’s hope this works,” Soka muttered. Bridget fervently seconded that thought. Soka closed her eyes and placed her fingers on Bridget’s chest. A rush of warmth spread through Bridget’s body. She gasped as the warmth turned to fire. A burning yellow poured over her eyes, blocking out her sight. Everything was fire and the only thing she heard was Soka’s voice ringing in her ears. She seemed to burn for days and days, until finally the pain subsided. The yellow bled away and she could see again. The fire turned back to warmth, and the pushing inside her ceased. She let out a long sigh as relief flowed through her.
Soka collapsed backward, and Rory leaped forward to steady her. Bridget heard Fritz whistle in awe as Rory knelt down beside her. She was shocked to see tears running down his cheeks.
“Am I all better?” she asked him weakly.
“See for yourself,” he answered, smiling through his tears.
