"Do you think she's afraid of turning into a were-rat?" I asked Aileen once. Aileen had just stared at me.
"There's such a thing as a were-rat?" she said.
"Oh, don't worry," I'd said blithely. "They're not common."
Of course, now, creeping down the hall in my damp, Amir-scented clothing, I suddenly found myself jumping at every creak and shuffle in the dark. I almost drew my knife, but the thought of a former demon hunter trying to stake a cockroach was just a little too embarrassing. I eased alongside our door and then relaxed. See, nothing there.
My hand was on the doorknob when something shrieked and clawed me across my forearm. I whirled, back against the wall and silver blade in my hand nearly as fast. The thing--just a blue-black blur against a light wood floor--launched itself at my head. I dropped the knife and caught the creature as it sailed past. Before it could struggle much--I'd pegged this as a revenant something and knew its strength would surprise me--I grabbed the back of its tiny head and twisted until I heard a familiar crunch. No Other can survive a severed spinal cord. It's the cleanest kill you can make, but also the most difficult.
I was panting with exertion, but otherwise felt bizarrely calm. My hands didn't even shake as I held the furry creature up to the dim light filtering in through the window. Not a rat, but a small cat. From its unkempt fur and scarred tail, I guessed it must have been a stray. Someone had branded the marks of a revenant on its back, and the wounds were raw enough to be recent.
And meant for me. A piece of paper had been tied around its neck with a bit of red ribbon. When had this been left here? This revenant might be small, but revenant crabs have been known to kill people who weren't prepared. What if Aileen had needed to use the bathroom? For the first time since the attack, I started to feel scared. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to her because of my own mess (and neither would Mrs. Brodsky). But who would do this? I put down the dead cat and read the note.
A PRESENT FOR TUTORING MY BOYS.
Dear God. Rinaldo. He knew something. I forced myself to breathe past the sudden constriction in my chest. Calm, Zephyr. He couldn't have learned everything. But how much? Could he have guessed my connection to Amir? Or was there some other reason he didn't want me around Nicholas? I stuffed the note hastily into my pocket and sheathed my knife. What ever its import, I had to get rid of the revenant. I climbed the ladder to the roof, and tossed the cat into the alley. The rats would take far better care of it than I could. My arm was throbbing by the time I came back inside, so I washed the scratches--not very deep, thankfully--in the sink before finally entering our room.
The lamp was out, but Aileen sat up as soon as I opened the door. "Is it safe to go out?" she asked. Her eyes were very wide and her face was ghostly pale. Had she heard my fight outside? But how would she have known what it was?
"Yes," I said.
Aileen nodded. She released the sheets and lowered herself with painful care onto her bed. "Good." She looked over at me. "Are you okay?"
I turned so my torso hid my scratched arm. "I'm fine. It was just a stray cat."
"Oh, was that it?" She sounded mildly surprised. "I just saw it was some kind of Other. Small, but dangerous. I thought it might be one of Lizzy's were-rats."
I pulled my nightgown over my head. "You saw it?"
"Oh no, not that kind of seeing. The other kind. My grandmother's kind."
I suddenly realized that Aileen was wearing the exact same clothes she had this morning. Her hair was matted as though she hadn't combed it all day. She looked terrible.
"Aileen, what's going on?"
"I saw you with Amir again. He's strange, Zephyr. You should be careful. I can't see it clearly, but I know you'll hurt yourself if you do what he wants."
Oh, no. Aileen sounded just like an old Irish soothsayer, but this time I knew she wasn't joking. I took the lamp from beside her bed and lit it hastily. In its glow she looked even more haggard than before.
"You think that you have the Sight?"
She buried her face in her pillow. "It's been hitting me all day. Every time I try to get up another one comes. Your parents came and I suddenly knew exactly where you were."
"Yeah, about that . . ."
Her smile was thin, but genuine. "Sorry. I realized later you probably wouldn't appreciate a parental visit."
"You could say so."
"Lord Jesus, I'm so tired I want to pass out. I think I might die."
This had been some goddamn day. How to phrase this as delicately as possible? "Do you think you might just be . . . upset?"
She narrowed her eyes, but I could tell she was interested. "About the other night, you mean."
"My first time on a vampire hit . . . well, it gets to you, right? It's not pretty. I could barely eat for a week. Have you eaten today?"
She shook her head.
"Maybe you should eat, and try to sleep and ignore the . . . visions, if you get them again. Maybe you did get the Sight this late, but it's pretty rare, right? Chances are you're just scared."
Aileen stuck out her jaw. "But how do you explain how I knew where you were?"
"You already know that Amir and I . . . well, we're working together, at least, so it wasn't that hard a guess."
"What about the were-rat?"
"Well, it wasn't a were-rat. It was a stray cat, and you probably heard it scratching the door."
"Bloody hell." Aileen put her hand on her forehead and sat up in bed. "Oh, bloody hell. If I am ever so fucking stupid again, I give you permission to bean me. Just keep going until I start making sense again. I'm going to get some food."
I smiled. "Wait, I have something that should make you feel better." I went to my trunk, where I'd stashed my finery from the night before and took out the two tiny objects secreted at the bottom.
"I think these are rightfully yours," I said, handing her two diamond cuff links.
She stared at them for a blank moment. Her hand shook when she remembered. "Are these . . . ?"
"He couldn't use them anymore."
She wiped her eyes hastily. "Go to sleep, Zeph. You look like hell."
I yawned. "Love you, too."
CHAPTER FIVE
My dreams were filled with fire, pillars of flame so great I could only admire them as a wonder of nature. Ash drifted onto my hair and streaked my cheeks. Sparks burned my skin, but the conflagration was oddly familiar and comforting. In the distance I could hear wailing sirens, but I knew firefighters could do nothing but wait this blaze out. Lucky that no other houses were nearby. The ware house was a lonely monolith on this street. And didn't that, too, look familiar?
"Is she quite alight?"
It was a firefighter, but I'd never seen a female in the uniform before, and her girth strained against her suspenders.
"Is Amir okay? Have you seen him?"
"Amir," said the firefighter. "Isn't that a Mohammedan name?"
"Oh," said Aileen--who had appeared in the street beside me, clad in just her nightgown, "he's her boyfriend. A bit of a swell, actually. You should see his kitchen."
Aileen kicked me in the shins and I opened my eyes. Iris--dressed in a blue cardigan and tweed skirt, not oversized firefighter suspenders--was sitting on Aileen's bed. Aileen yanked me upright by my elbow and plopped down beside me.
"What time is it?" My voice was a hoarse croak. I felt like I could sleep for at least another day.
"Eight," Aileen said, yawning. "Which apparently makes us slugabeds."
I closed my eyes and put my head on Aileen's shoulder. "Wake me up in five hours."
"Oh, come on, girls, at your age I'd have already taken a turn around the yard and read the morning paper."
"Was this before or after you made the orphans corner-tuck their sheets?" Aileen asked.
I giggled.
"No need to be smart," Iris said, but I could tell she was holding back a smile. "Well, I would leave you to your youthful slumbers, but something has come up. You've heard those sir
ens for the last two hours? There's some kind of new vampire drug on the streets. Hundreds of vampires nearly burned to death this morning when they were caught out in the sunlight."
"Burned to death?" I said slowly. "But that doesn't make sense. There aren't a hundred vampires old enough to burn to death in the whole city. New Orleans, maybe."
Iris nodded so vigorously that the bed shivered. "Yes, that's precisely the thing. This drug doesn't just make them blood-mad, it makes even the youngest vampires burn like they just turned six hundred."
I suddenly remembered the ambulance Aileen and I had seen just two days ago; I'd wondered why the gurney was draped in a sun-resistant shroud. Had that vampire burned by accident because of Faust? Horrified, I imagined the carnage that must have greeted the dawn this morning.
Well, that was one way to wake up. Did I smell charred, exsanguinated vampire flesh coming through our drafty window?
"And it makes them blood-mad, too? Like when they Awaken?"
Iris shook her head. "It's not as bad as that, thank the Lord for small blessings. But I've heard of at least six bites being treated at St. Vincent's. I don't know how many others can't afford a doctor."
"But . . . I've seen this drug. They call it Faust. It's a pig's blood clone mixed with some kind of intoxicant. Why would they get blood-mad from drinking blood?"
Even Iris didn't have an answer for that. We sat in silence for a moment.
"Well," Aileen said suddenly, "it's like one of those new grapefruit diets, isn't it?"
"Torture?"
"Unnatural. See, they're glutting themselves on all this stuff that tastes like blood, but doesn't actually, well, nourish them the way real blood does. It's a clone of pigs' blood, right, which isn't nearly as good as human anyway. So they drink and they drink, but they still need more. So it's like when you eat nothing but grapefruits and crackers for three days and just give up and spend all your money on macaroni and cheese at Horn and Hardart."
I stared at Aileen incredulously. "So you're saying Faust makes vampires want to gorge at the Automat?"
"If it had human blood."
"Details, details."
Iris looked between the two of us and shook her head. "Why it causes blood-madness concerns me much less than it being out on the street at all. Would you believe that when I went to complain to the precinct captain this morning, he told me that this new drug was perfectly legal? I believe that our fine mayor might have fast-tracked this dangerous substance through the city council without any debate! Six people in the hospital in danger of turning, at least two dozen burned vampires languishing in the basement of the Tombs--"
"Not to mention the poppers," said Aileen. She seemed giddy with a weird, manic energy. But she'd gotten just as little sleep as I had.
Iris winced. "Of course. Full exsanguination is always a chore. Well, I came to you because I've called in some favors and the Temperance Union has agreed to an emergency meeting to night to discuss this new situation. I wanted to make sure I could count on you to be there to testify."
This is why she found me at eight in the morning? Only Iris. "Of course," I said. "But, Iris . . . the vampires have already had a taste. It might be too late to stop it."
Iris shrugged and gave a lopsided smile. "Well, we wouldn't be proper activists without lost causes, now, would we?" She stood up and grabbed her ivory-tipped umbrella. "I'm off to rally the rest of the troops. We're meeting in the basement of Second Avenue Presbyterian at seven."
After she had swept out of the room, Aileen and I looked at each other in mock horror.
"Take a good look at your future, Zeph."
"Iris is just a little . . . forceful," I said, yawning.
"She's a strident Victorian busybody, that's what."
"Anyway, we're just trying to help people. This Faust stuff is dangerous."
"And making it illegal will be just as effective and clever as Prohibition, I'm sure."
I sighed. "Well, we have to do something."
"That's my Zephyr."
I longed to go back to sleep, but my mind had already filled with the thousand things I needed to do today. And my first order of business was to help Judah find his family. I could only imagine how they'd react to finding their son turned into a vampire, but it had to be better than staked and beheaded. And then I'd renew my efforts to find Rinaldo. If we couldn't make Mayor Jimmy Walker listen (which I very much doubted), then perhaps this Faust problem was best traced to the source. I raised my arms above my head and stretched.
"Bloody hell, what happened to your arm?"
The sleeve of my nightgown had fallen down. I quickly tried to cover it up again, but Aileen already looked horrified. I recalled her terror the night before and cursed myself silently.
"It's nothing. The cat scratched me a little last night, that's all."
"Was it rabid? Those look deep, Zeph."
I shook my head. "Don't worry, it happened when I was carrying it outside."
"I didn't hear you go down the stairs."
"I can be quiet when I want to." Aileen just stared at me, as if she knew I was lying. "Anyway, I've got to go," I said hastily. I practically ran out to take a bath, and when I returned Aileen was lying down on her bed. Her eyes were open, but she didn't say anything to me when I said good-bye. Which was strange--Aileen usually didn't ignore me, even when she was annoyed.
As I bolted down the last of the congealed soup left on the stovetop (along with all six chocolate-covered strawberries Mama had given me), I wondered if she might actually be right about the Sight. It wasn't impossible to come on in your twenties, after all. Maybe being Swayed by an old vampire had triggered it. And she'd been right about the cat, hadn't she? She'd known some kind of Other was outside the door. I shuddered. I didn't want to think about how difficult Aileen's life would be from now on if she really were a seer. There was a reason that the street fortune-tellers cultivated that air of frenzied abstraction: real seers were always tormented, and sometimes driven insane, by their visions.
No wonder Aileen was terrified. I'd have to help her. But after this mess with Amir and Rinaldo died down.
I'd decided to start my search for Judah's parents at Lafayette, in the hopes that at least someone in the nearby tenements had seen something. If that didn't work out, I'd make my way down to South Ferry. It seemed the most likely nearby location for a boy to blow a ship's horn with his mother.
The tenement closest to the spot where I'd first discovered Judah was on Leonard Street, right by Benson Street. It looked like your average immigrant affair--an eight-story walk up of crumbling red brick and sooty limestone. The landlord had apparently started to install fire escapes, but lost interest around the fifth floor, where rusting steel bars hung forlornly over the impossibly steep drop to the street.
I pulled my jacket tight and headed for the door covered in several garlands of garlic. Strange how the street was nearly deserted, except for passersby determinedly hunched against the wind. Where were the children? With the streets so white and icy on a Sunday morning, I should have been tripping over them. I put my gloved hand on the doorknob to see if it was open.
"What's your business?"
The voice was female, and heavily accented. I jumped backward, nearly slipping on the ice. A woman rested quietly beside the door, deep within the shadows of its granite overhang. My eyes had grown so used to the early-morning snow glare that I had to squint to just make out her figure: surprisingly tiny for such a large voice, and old, though I knew that age could be hard to judge among immigrant women.
"I'm looking for someone," I said. A sudden gust of wind sprayed snow against my exposed cheeks.
"I don't think today is a good day for moral instruction. Or is it proper hygiene? Or dietary advice? Or are you a Lutheran?"
It was strange for someone to read me so clearly, and with such contempt. I generally imagined that the immigrant families were grateful for the Citizen's Council's efforts on their behalf, but clearly
this wasn't universally the case. I shrugged. "I'm Zephyr Hollis," I said, holding out my hand. "There's a boy who went missing around here, and I'm hoping someone can help me find his parents."
The woman--who looked Jewish and sounded Eastern European--kept her arms firmly crossed against her chest. She considered me for several uncomfortable seconds, until I gave up and stuffed my hand back in my pocket.
"Who is the boy?"
"His name is Judah. He's about eleven, with red hair and freckles."
"Immigrant?"
"I don't know. He doesn't have much of an accent."
She considered. "His clothes, then?"
I had a momentary flash of the small boy in Kardal's opulent palace, in his brightly colored pantaloons and pointy shoes. But I needed to go back further. "Corduroy knickers and a brown wool suit jacket. Gray peacoat and one knitted blue mitten."
The woman shook her head. "Not one of ours. Clothes too fine. When did you find him?"
"Thursday."
The door opened and another, younger woman stepped out into the cold. "Esther," she said, "go back inside. I'll take over for now."
Esther didn't take her eyes from me as she pulled the rifle she'd kept concealed in her coat and handed it to the other woman.
"Chavie, this lady is looking for the mother of a boy gone missing this Thursday. Did you hear anything?"
Chavie hefted the rifle and sighted down the empty street. "Thursday? The boys told me something about some commotion on Catherine Lane. I didn't hear about a kid, though."
"Th-thanks," I said, hoping they'd attribute my stutter to the cold and knowing they wouldn't. "If you don't mind my asking, what--"
Esther frowned, as though she dared me to finish the sentence. I swallowed, and said, "It's Faust, isn't it?"
Chavie tightened her grip on the rifle. "That's what they're calling it? Pig's blood. As if being a sucker wasn't enough of an abomination." She looked back out at the street. "There's still a few out there. Hiding in the shadows."
Moonshine: A Novel Page 13
