CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Charlie, Hannah, and I race across the park, through the woods, and up Bobby’s path toward the city.

Their ability to ignore the surroundings and focus on getting me to the pod is amazing. They don’t seem to notice the remarkable sights as we rush by, and don’t even flinch as I lead them down the dark, winding alley toward Nero’s Fiddle.

My fist pounds on the door with thunderous resolve. The iron bar slides open, and Nero peers out at us.

“Ohhhhh, no.” He drags out the words, his voice wary. “Not you again.”

“Nero, please,” I beg. “I’m sorry I didn’t come with Bobby. There was no time. I know I made trouble for you before, but this is an emergency.”

“Trouble? You have no idea, girlie. That Crosby drove off all my customers for days. Not good for business.”

“Business?” Charlie asks. “We’re dead, so there’s no money, right?”

Nero glares at him. “Not talking to you, boy.”

“Come on,” Charlie persists. “You on the barter system? What do you trade for? Maybe we can make it up to you.”

“You really want the answer to that, kid?” Nero sneers. “We got all types here, so be careful what you offer.”

I put my hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, Nero. I really am. I promise I’ll be quick. Please.”

“Get lost.” The little window slams shut.

“Nero!” I scream as I pound on the door. “It’s my mom … please!”

“Don’t care!” he shouts back. “Now get out of here, or I’ll call Crosby myself.”

“Come on,” Hannah whispers. “Maybe there’s another way in.”

We sneak around the side of the building, trying our best to conceal ourselves in the shadows, but our frantic pace and my desperation hinders our attempts at stealth. The bar’s solitary window is too small to fit through. Accessing the bar won’t do us any good anyway. Nero will toss us out the minute we get in.

We make our way to the alley running behind the building. Charlie shines the flashlight against the back wall and finds a door. It’s locked, and doesn’t budge an inch.

“I have to get in there!” Feelings of futility and defeat flood my brain.

Focus. Find a way in. Help Mom.

“What’s the matter, beauties? Did nasty old Nero kick you out?”

The three of us spin around in the direction of the strange voice coming from the shadows. The flashlight’s beam falls on a middle-aged woman in a Victorian dress. Her graying hair is pulled up in a bun.

“His isn’t the only game in town,” she purrs. Her low, throaty voice has a slight hint of a French accent. Her harsh features are sharpened in the narrow light of the flashlight’s beam, making her smile all the more disturbing as she approaches, her heels clicking on the cobblestones.

“We’re fine, thanks,” I say. Charlie, Hannah, and I step closer together in a defensive posture.

“Is that so? Because the way it appears to Delphine, you lovelies are, how do you say? In a tight spot?”

“What do you want?” Charlie says.

“Oh my, a boy who is direct. I do like that. So young and so bold.” She looks from Hannah to me, then back to Charlie. “Strange company you keep, chéri.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Is that so? Well, let me tell you, there is more than one way”—she looks at me with amusement—“to skin a cat, no?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, desperate enough to talk to this woman whose presence and appearance is setting off alarms in my mind. “Are you saying there are pods somewhere else?”

She narrows her eyes. “I guess they make them smarter than they used to.”

“I don’t like this,” Hannah says. “There has to be a better way. Let’s try Nero again. Maybe he’ll change his mind.”

Delphine throws back her head and cackles. She steps up to Charlie and runs her fingers down his cheek. “Scared little birds fallen from their nest,” she coos.

Charlie bats her hand away. “Come on, Dez. Hannah, you’re right. Let’s go.” He and Hannah turn to leave.

“Suit yourselves, but if that one wants to help her sweet mama, you’d best come with Delphine. You want to do more than listen? More than talk? You want to see?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, wary.

“Come. You’ll see.”

“I don’t have time for riddles. What exactly are you trying to say?”

A devilish smile spreads across her face. She points a crooked index finger at me. “You want to say goodbye? You want to say sorry?” She clucks her tongue. “Such a thing, to spend eternity with regret. But you come along and Delphine will show you the world.”

“What’s in it for you?” Charlie asks her. He takes my hand.

She bows her head. “To help those in need is its own gift.”

“Dez, don’t,” Hannah says. “We’ll figure something else out.”

“I have to. There’s no other way.” We huddle together and I whisper, “You guys should go back. Tell Franklin. You know, just in case.”

Charlie glances over my shoulder at Delphine. “And leave you alone with her? No way.” His voice is low and urgent; his grip on my hand is tight.

“We’re in this together,” Hannah whispers. “Wherever you’re going, we’re going."

“I really don’t like this. I never should have dragged you two into my mess.”

“We came willingly, and we’re not leaving you,” Charlie says, ending the discussion.

Turning back to Delphine, I ask, “How far is it? We need to hurry. It might already be too late.” I swallow back the fear, refusing to let my mind go any further down that path. It can’t be too late.

“Not far, lovelies. Not far at all. Come.” She waves her hand, beckoning us to follow her down the alley and away from Nero’s.

“We stay together, okay?” Charlie whispers. “Nobody goes anywhere alone with her, no matter what she says.”

Hannah and I nod in agreement, following a safe distance behind Delphine. Confident she has us hooked, she strolls ahead. She’s caught us in her web, luring us deeper into the unknown, and I can only hope we get back out.

“I don’t trust her for one second.” I remember all too well Crosby’s warning about the people who lurk in the city, preying on the weak, the trusting, and, in this moment, the desperate.

The buildings become increasingly ramshackle as we wind into the city. The brightly lit façades and mismatched architecture have been replaced by dilapidated shacks and neglected, seedy storefronts. Rundown souls in tattered rags lurk in the shadows, watching us as we pass.

“Who are all these people?” Hannah whispers as she looks at one particularly desperate man.

“I don’t think we want to know. Hopefully it’s not much farther.” Charlie calls ahead to Delphine. “Are we almost there?”

She raises an arm and waves her hand. “Not far now, chéri. Then you will see.” We round the corner into a residential section of the city. Delphine spins around to face us at last, an alarming grin on her face. “Bienvenue, children. Welcome to Royal Street.”

The name would no doubt be hilarious if we weren’t in such a dangerous situation. Shabby houses and apartments crowd into each other and push up against the street. We’re left with little space to navigate; it’s a claustrophobic mess of bad architecture and filth. Royal, indeed.

The click of Delphine’s heels leads the way into a small courtyard up a path of cracked and uneven concrete to a bizarrely out of place—even by Atman standards—geodesic dome. It seems barely large enough for the four of us to fit into and casts an eerie glow, bathing the courtyard in a pale green light. There is just enough room between the dome and the adjacent buildings for a person to walk through, although I have no idea why anyone would want to. The courtyard is devoid of any greenery; the ground is hard-packed dirt with a pile of rocks to one side of the dome that seems to serve no functional or decorative purpose.

Delphine strides up to the narrow door and enters the dome without knocking and with no instructions to us.

“Are we supposed to follow her?” Hannah asks.

“I guess,” Charlie says. “The alternative is staying out here, and I definitely don’t want to do that.”

We hurry up the steps to the door and inside. It’s a tiny space, with two wooden chairs positioned in front of a trapdoor in the floor. Charlie, Hannah, and I stand elbow to elbow in the close confines.

An extremely obese man with a blond buzz cut and a ruddy complexion is sitting in one of the chairs. It ought to be collapsing under his weight, but since we’re dead, I guess the laws of physics and structural integrity don’t apply. Behind him is a small woodstove with a whistling kettle on it. Neither he nor Delphine seems to care.

“We have visitors, Louis,” Delphine tells him with a sly smile. “This one”—she nods at me—“needs to help her dear mama.”

Louis grunts and looks up at me with black, beady eyes. He begins the slow process of getting to his feet, making it clear he’s not a man who does anything quickly.

He lumbers to the trapdoor and grabs the large metal ring at the bottom, pulling with a strained, groaning exhalation. The door creaks and grinds under its own weight. Once past the halfway point, Louis lets it fall open. It hits the floor with a thunderous crash.

“Just you,” he tells me with a thick French accent. He points down at the stairs and into the darkness.

“No way,” Charlie says, stepping forward. “We all go.”

“You got a problem, boy?” Louis asks, taking a menacing step toward us.

“Stop,” I say, holding my hands up as I turn to Charlie and Hannah. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” Assessing the rickety stairs that lead to who knows where, I’m not sure I believe it.

“Dez, no,” Hannah says. “Let’s just get out of here, okay?”

Delphine slinks over to Hannah and strokes her hair, delighting in the cringe it induces. “There, there, child. Your friend, she’s in good hands. Delphine takes care of everything.” She kisses Hannah’s cheek, and Hannah jumps back. Delphine cackles with glee.

“Enough!” I lock eyes with Delphine. “Either you’re going to help us, or you’re not. Enough with the games, and leave my friends out of it. C'est entre nous.” This is between us. I’m sick of her crap.

Surprise flashes across her face. “Well, well, my little bird … très impressionnant. I think I like you.”

“We’re wasting time,” I say.

“Be a darling and make some tea for our guests,” she tells Louis. She turns her saccharine smile my way. “Follow me, child.”

Dust falls from the rickety steps as we descend into the dark, the stairs groaning under our weight. My boldness has been left behind with the light. Delphine’s raspy breathing only adds to my feeling of impending doom, and I begin to question my judgment. I focus on what brought me here. I have to help my mom, and this is my only chance.

We travel down a narrow, earthen tunnel, and I feel claustrophobic as I sense a gradual slope leading us deeper into the ground. As my eyes begin to adjust to the dim light, I can make out the rough walls and low ceiling, all of which appear to have been dug out by hand. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I realize how far I am from safety. A voice in my head urges me to turn and run, but I push back my fear and press ahead, determined to see this through.

Delphine stays a few paces ahead, humming a tune quietly. She glances over her shoulder at me, then turns back around and begins to sing a hymn.

Whilst I draw this fleeting breath,

When my eye-strings break in death,

When I soar through tracts unknown,

See Thee on thy Judgment-Throne,

Rock of ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in Thee.

The tunnel takes a sharp turn to the left and comes to an abrupt end. We stand before a heavy wooden door with a barred window that’s dusty, I assume, from disuse. Delphine retrieves an iron key from a hidden pocket in her dress and unlocks the door.

“Why was it locked?” I ask.

“We can’t let just anyone get in here, now, can we? Such power must be guarded. Must be careful. We must keep it safe. This is our job, see? To protect. To help.”

“But why do you need a lock? Isn’t that what Louis is for?”

“So many questions, child. Don’t you want to help your sweet mama?” She swings the door outward and gestures for me to go through first. “The light is on the wall. Just flip the switch. Then you can see her. You can talk. You can help.”

I step through the doorway and hit the switch on the wall, illuminating the room with bright, sterile light.

The empty room.

With chains on the wall.

Delphine screeches in delight, and I spin around just in time to see the door begin to swing shut. With every bit of strength I have, I throw myself against the door, digging my feet into the hard-packed dirt floor. I manage to block the doorway with my left leg so she can’t shut me in. I drive my shoulder into the door; desperation and adrenaline fuel my strength. Delphine grunts as she pushes back.

Little by little, I force the door open until finally I push my way out. Delphine blocks my path, snarling like a wild animal. My fists fly, catching her off guard with a hook to the jaw. She hits the floor, temporarily stunned by the blow, and I waste no time, taking off down the tunnel back toward the dome with all I have, thankful for my years of training as a sprinter. She’ll never catch me, especially not in those Victorian boots of hers.

“Charlie, Hannah, run!” I scream, picking up the pace as I close in on the stairs, knowing they’ll have their hands full with the hulking menace, Louis.

My foot hits the first stair and I can hear commotion above: scuffling of feet, a bellowing roar, and a crash.

Hannah stands at the top, teakettle in hand, standing over Louis. He’s lying next to his overturned chair, clawing at his face and screaming. Charlie grabs her hand and the kettle hits the floor with a clang.

“Let’s go,” I say, the urgency making my voice shrill.

“Wait!” Charlie says. He struggles to lift the heavy trapdoor. Hannah and I rush to help him, and it closes with a crash. “That ought to slow her down.”

We hear her banging on the door as we flee.