Petra K and the Blackhearts

by M Henderson Ellis

  “What is your business here, child?” the stout one demanded.

  “We were playing,” I said. My answer caused a ripple of low, heated chatter amongst them. Finally the stout one came forward again. “What were you playing?” he ventured. “Exactly what?” the tall shadowy one rejoined.

  “Nothing,” I stammered.

  “Nobody plays nothing,” the shadowy one said. “Everybody plays something.”

  I gulped. I had no answer.

  “Where do you live?” one asked.

  “I … I don’t know,” I responded.

  “Have you any gold?” another asked, as though he was a beggar looking for food. Indeed, they all had a sickly look to them. Their ghostly limbs were deteriorating, and appeared moth-eaten.

  “No,” I said. “No gold here.”

  “Then what good are you?” he sputtered, and disappeared into the floor.

  “Is she spirit or human?” the spindly one said to the stout soldierly one, who appeared to be the leader of the group.

  “Human, of course,” said one in the back.

  “But there is something so familiar in her ghostly attractions,” said the stout one. A spirit from the ceiling swooped down next to me and inhaled, smelling me. The Haint howled with disgust and retreated.

  “She is human indeed,” came a voice from behind. I turned to see Wormwood in a white lab coat.

  “Then what is she doing here?” demanded the general.

  “I knew it was a bad idea, but it was Archibald’s wish,” he replied.

  “He is not allowed to wish!” said the stout general.

  “He is the monarch,” said Wormwood, in a voice of conciliation.

  “Have her removed!” said the stout one.

  “Archibald will not be happy,” said Wormwood.

  “Get him more dragonka. More mood shards. Anything but this girl.”

  “Very well,” said Wormwood. He approached me and held out his hand. In it was a small peppermint. “Here,” he said, offering it forth. But I was not so easily fooled. I turned to flee, only to find myself in the grasp of a Haint who had snuck up behind me. I struggled, but he held me tight as Wormwood pressed a handkerchief to my face. From it I smelled the sweet pungent smell of camphor. I kicked with all my might, but it was no use. I passed out in his arms.

  Chapter 16

  I awoke in a cage in the back of the same cart that had delivered me. I was delirious at first, but when I came to my senses, I could see that we were traveling at a quick pace on a road out of Pava. I poked my head up to see the thick neck of a Boot officer cracking a whip over the heads of a pair of mighty horses.

  “Where are you taking me?” I called to him, but he didn’t even turn to acknowledge my voice. I repeated my question to no avail.

  “We are going to the mines,” came a voice from behind me. I turned my head. The cart was loaded with cages just like the one I was in, all filled with children. I scanned them until I saw a face I recognized. “There we will be worked to death.”

  “Jasper!” I called. It was him, indeed, though he had lost weight, and his threadbare shirt allowed his Blackheart tattoo to show on his chest.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  “That is a strange question coming from you,” he responded with bitterness in his voice. “You are one of the Boot Youth Guard. We know about you.”

  “I am not! It was you who betrayed the dragonka,” I said.

  “If that is what you think, I cannot stop you. But the traitor is you.”

  “If I was a traitor, what would I be doing here?” I countered.

  “The only reason you are here is because the Boot kill their own if it suits them.”

  “You don’t understand,” I said. But I remembered the ceremony where he was treated with such violence. I had lost all trust of the Blackhearts, if I had ever really had it.

  “I may go to my death with dignity. But you … you will die a coward,” said Jasper.

  I slumped in misery. Then a horrible thought jolted me. “Jasper,” I finally said. “Jasper!”

  “What?”

  “Did the Blackhearts sell Luma?”

  “Sell Luma?”

  “For his skin,” I said.

  “Ha!” he guffawed. “Is that what you think?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” I said.

  “Well you will have plenty of time to ponder it in the mines. There they work you until you can no longer stand upright,” he said.

  “Stop with that talk. You are scaring the others,” I said when I noticed a small Half Not child listening in.

  We stopped speaking. A dread wound its way between all of us, like a snake amongst sleepers. It was freezing cold, and I held myself tight to keep from shivering too much. It wasn’t until the cart came to a lurching halt that I looked up again.

  “Get out of the road!” the driver shouted. I pressed my head against the top of the cage to see what was holding us up. There in the middle of the road was a small potbellied pig. “Rufus!” I began to yell, but my voice was cut short by Jasper, who grabbed me through the bars. He shook his head gravely. I turned back to watch. The driver stood up to threaten the pig. Rufus stood his ground, then began to grow! He was puffing up, as though he was a balloon and somebody was filling him with air. Suddenly, when he was the size of a cow, he burst, and gold coins went flying everywhere.

  “What?” the driver exclaimed in disbelief. Then he began to chuckle when the coins showered around him. He sprung from the cab and began to gather the gold into his pockets, laughing and amazed. Stealthily, from behind a tree, a figure emerged. Deklyn leapt into the cab and yanked the reigns hard, taking control of the confused horses. Isobel too emerged from hiding and jumped into the back of the cart. In a flash, Deklyn had the cart moving. We circled the confused Boot officer. He made a few stumbling grasps for the reigns, but Deklyn was too fast. In an instant, we were back on the road to Pava, galloping full speed. We stopped briefly, and Rufus jumped into Deklyn’s arms. No doubt the gold had turned to clay by now, and the Boot officer was cursing his birth star.

  As we fled, Isobel climbed nimbly amongst the cages, releasing us one by one. All the other children clamored to get to the front of the cart and pat Deklyn on the shoulder. We were free. With the wind rushing about us, it felt like we were going to rush straight into the city and recapture it for the people. But Deklyn stopped short of the city border.

  “Everybody out!” he yelled. “We have to continue underground.” Children who had looked so distraught and lifeless before now jumped from the cab with savage howls. Once settled, Deklyn took them one by one, and, with a piece of black charcoal, drew a black heart on each of their chests.

  “Honorary member,” he said to each, then directed them toward a drainage pit by the river. I ran to Deklyn to congratulate him.

  “That was amazing,” I said.

  “Not bad for somebody who just sells fake potions. Isn’t that what you said?”

  “That was before.”

  “Before what? Before you betrayed us?”

  “I did not,” I said. But I knew if Jasper didn’t believe me, Deklyn wouldn’t either.

  “It does not matter now,” he said. “We can’t trust you, so you can’t come this way. Go overland. And when you see your Youth Guard friends again, tell them the JRM was well at work.” He looked at me with spite. And without another word, the small gang disappeared into the darkened underground passage. But after the crowd disappeared into the darkness, Isobel re-emerged. She approached me.

  “I know you are innocent,” she said. “I see things the others don’t. They only understand force and blood. But keep out of Jozseftown. Things are dangerous there if you are not part of the JRM. I will talk to Deklyn and send word to you.”

  “Agreed,” I said. “And, thanks.” Isobel gave my hand a squeeze, looked me in the eye, not without kindness, and then disappeared down the tunnel.

  OF COURSE I WAS GOING to go straight back to Jo
zseftown, for the simple fact that I had nowhere else to go. I made my way quietly, trying to keep to back streets where I would not be spotted. Boot guards stood at every corner. It was as though they had multiplied in my absence. I slipped quietly among them. Before long I was at the Jozseftown gate. What I really wanted to do was to go home. I could feel the pull of my mother, but I suspected she would send me back to where I had just escaped from. Instead, I followed a feeling that rose from my gut, a feeling that told me I needed to go to Jozseftown Cemetery. If Zsofia was still there, I knew we could help each other. I needed a friend. The only question was: was she still alive?

  After scaling the wall, I found the mausoleum into which I had last seen her disappear. I pulled the door open and entered quietly. The dry, dark space was empty; there was no sign that Zsofia was still residing there. I had no better idea, so I decided to make this my shelter for the time being. If the Blackhearts could do it underground, I could survive here, if I wanted to. The only question was: did I want to? If anybody has ever encountered a livable cemetery, I would like to know about it.

  I made a nestlike bed of my jacket, and pushed shut the stone door on the wind. It was a cold but bearable abode. I had escaped the mines, but I still didn’t know why the Palace was rounding up the dragonka and what Luma had to do with the whole thing. Whatever the answer was, I knew Luma had something special about him that never failed to arouse curiosity. At least I was safe, and hidden where I was. I let out a sigh of relief.

  It was then that I felt a hand grasp my ankle.

  In an instant I was yanked downward and dragged through a hidden trapdoor. I landed with a thud on a pillow. It took me a few moments to rub the dirt from my eyes, but when I did, there before me sat Zsofia, in a white lab coat. And behind me, with her webbed-fingers on my shoulder, the person who had apprehended me: Ludmilla. Carmine- and mint-colored bats fluttered around my head.

  “Welcome to my new laboratory,” she said.

  Chapter 17

  In the tradition of refugees, mutants, and criminals on the run, Ludmilla had taken shelter in Jozseftown after the Boot closed her shops. There, she had set up a miniature laboratory. The grim space had been transformed into a white gleaming room; alabaster busts of Ludmilla’s ancestors stood in the corners, portraits of noble women from abroad, all former clients, graced the walls. In the center of the room stood barrels of clay from the Pava River, which she used in her mudpacks.

  The Newt doorman who had once worked at her department store bowed to me, tipping his hat, only now he wore a casual smoking jacket.

  “Have a look around,” she said. “Try a sample, though I fear a youth-enhancing pack would put you in diapers.”

  “Who do you sell these to?” I asked, astonished at what I saw.

  “Oh, I still have my clients,” she said. “It is only the method of distribution that has changed, thanks to this one,” she said, indicating Zsofia. Ludmilla busied herself packing a round cartridge with an order of mudpacks. “You see?” she asked, indicating a tube that ran along the floor, and a mechanism with levers, like a large typewriter. It was the pneumatic mail system!

  “Sorry,” Zsofia said to me. “I don’t have time to catch up. There is a blocked tube somewhere under the river, and I have to go unblock it.”

  “It must be another rat. They love the pneumatic tubes. It is like a carnival ride for them,” said Ludmilla.

  “Can I come?” I asked.

  “Do you want to?” said Zsofia, grabbing my hand and grinning. I was glad to have her back as a friend.

  “Of course,” I said.

  “Only, bring Petra K back. I have to talk to her,” Ludmilla said.

  “How could I possibly lose her?” Zsofia asked. They looked at each other and cracked up in laughter.

  “Sorry,” said Ludmilla. “It is just that the system of tunnels is so very complicated, and the glow clouds are growing dimmer by the day.”

  “Might a map help?” I asked.

  “Of course,” Ludmilla said. “But they just don’t exist anymore.”

  “Well, actually,” I said, pulling the map from my pocket and unfolding it in front of them. Ludmilla looked over the map, then gasped.

  “This opens up whole new markets,” she said.

  “And it has the codes,” I said, turning it over.

  “Codes!” she shrieked, as though I had just dumped a pile of pink diamonds in front of her. “Petra K, what do you want for this? I’ll give you anything.”

  I considered for a minute. “Get my mother some tea. Oolong. It is her favorite. And maybe something nice from your lab. And, I want a copy of the map for myself.”

  “Consider it done,” Ludmilla said.

  “Come on, Petra K,” said Zsofia. “Let’s go find that rat.”

  Zsofia had a small flock of glow clouds at her disposal. They bunched together like a fistful of cotton balls shot through with electricity. She raised a flute to her mouth and the glow clouds came to attention around us.

  “Were you here all this time, in the cemetery?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Ludmilla took me under her wing when she realized it wasn’t us who were responsible for the tainted perfume getting out.”

  “Then who was it?”

  “Tatiana. She was a spy for the Boot long before she was inducted into the Youth Guard.”

  “But she got sick,” I said.

  “True, but she knew all along that would happen. She planted the perfume in your gift bag herself. They needed somebody who had no Palace connections. And, that was you. She knew she would get sick, she knew there was an antidote waiting from the Ministry of Unlikely Occurrences. She knew she would be made captain of the Youth Guard when the time came.”

  “Wow,” I said. “But what about the perfume I smelled in the mausoleum?”

  “Totally harmless. Want to try?” Zsofia took from her pocket a bottle of the black perfume and pointed it at me.

  “No!” I screamed, jumping back.

  “If you can’t trust me, how can I trust you?” she said. “We know you were in the Youth Guard.”

  I took the vial from her hand and examined it. I drew a deep breath, and sprayed it against my neck. The same molten wax and musky smell overtook me that I remembered from Ludmilla’s laboratories. I handed it back to Zsofia. I waited for a few tense moments; and felt nothing but silly for wearing perfume in the sewers of Pava.

  “Ludmilla would never poison children. It is bad for business, as you can see.”

  “But why did they sabotage her?”

  “You know she comes from a long line of sorceresses. Well, her ancestor, the original Ludmilla, was the one that put the curse on the Haints, keeping them bound in the Palace laboratories like slaves. It is revenge that was a long time coming. Now let’s keep moving.”

  The glow clouds illuminated the path ahead of us. Beneath Pava was a strange, mysterious place. Aside from the Kubikula, it was wholly unexplored. “The things I have come across down here,” she mused. “An albino python that glowed in the dark, a troupe of exiled Sibernian gnomes, and a crazy amount of bones. Ludmilla likes the bones; she grinds them up for face scrubs. If her customers only knew.…”

  “How did you come to work for her?”

  “Well, she found me the same way she found you. I was wandering sick with the dragonka fever through Jozseftown. The only refuge I found was in that mausoleum. She brought me into her lab, and cured me of the sickness, then put me to work. I’m learning how to concoct all kinds of great stuff. We are actually making our own antidote to the dragonka fever from the same perfume. That was my idea.”

  During the course of our walk, Zsofia talked so much about her job that I lost track of where we were, though the dank smell led me to believe we were somewhere under the Pava River.

  “Here we are,” she said, stopping at a portion of the glass tube that ran above us. “Look, you can see that something is trapped there, blocking the path.”

  “Now
what?”

  “Simple, I unclog it,” she said. She pulled a wrench from her bag, found the place where the pipes were joined, and undid the screws on the joiner. She carefully lifted the glass from its place, laid the tube on the sewer floor, put on a glove, and reached toward the problem. “Stupid rats,” she said. “Always joyriding. I can’t tell you how many times I have had to rescue one like this. Rats are actually smarter than people give them credit for … for instance they—” Before she could finish, Zsofia screamed. She pulled her arm from the pipe, and hanging off the end of her glove was a small dragonka, except this one had two heads, one of which appeared to be fashioned from gold and was biting into the finger of my friend.

  “Quick, open the bag!” she yelled at me. I did so, and Zsofia shook her hand until the creature fell from her arm and into the open pouch. I quickly zipped it up, sealing the creature inside.

  “God,” she said, rubbing her hand. The glove had protected her skin from the fangs, but it still looked like it hurt. “What was that?”

  “They come from the Palace,” she said. “They are getting more vicious and ugly all the time. Let’s get it back to Ludmilla, and quick.” We made haste in reattaching the glass tube, and followed the glow cloud back to the mausoleum entrance.

  IT WAS A TASK, extracting the wild beast from the bag and getting it into a terrarium. The dragonka was not at all grateful for its release; it snarled up at us, its tiny fangs flashing in the paraffin light. Ludmilla dropped a chloroform-soaked cotton ball in with it. Soon the beast got drowsy, then toppled over, asleep. Ludmilla took it by the tail and held it up for examination. “There is nothing remotely natural about this. Can you feel the chill it gives off? In place of a charm? The magic used to create it is the imperfect work of charlatans.”