A day ago, Ling would’ve found it sweetly charming.
“It must’ve taken a lot of energy to make that,” Ling said coolly.
“But worth the effort,” Wai-Mae said, smiling, and Ling felt a bit sick. “I’m glad you came back. Will you take some tea with me?” Wai-Mae poured a cup and held it out to Ling.
Ling didn’t take it. “I can’t stay long. I’ve come to talk.”
Wai-Mae swept her hand through the air as if she were clearing the last tendrils of smoke from a room. “About last night?”
“Yes. And other matters.”
“That’s all forgotten, sister. I’ve forgiven you for what you did. I know you meant well. But I don’t want to talk about such unhappy things anymore. Here. Sit with me and I will tell you all about tonight’s opera, and you will play whatever role you wish—except for the role I play, naturally.”
Ling didn’t move. “Wai-Mae, where’s Henry?”
“Henry? He’s with Louis, of course.”
“Wai-Mae. You need to let him go.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He is happy with Louis in their dream.”
“No. He’s trapped inside a dream. You can’t stay here, Wai-Mae. None of us can live inside a dream. You’re… hurting people. You’re hurting Henry.”
“I would never hurt Henry.”
“All of this”—Ling gestured wide—“is draining him of his Qi. He’ll die, Wai-Mae. And then he’ll become one of those burned-up, discarded things, those hungry ghosts, loose in our world.”
Wai-Mae put her hands over her ears. “Nothing you say makes sense! Go away if you only want to trouble me.”
Ling needed to find a way to break through Wai-Mae’s clouded mind and make her see. She offered her hand. “I want to show you something. It’s important. Will you walk with me… sister?”
At the word sister, Wai-Mae smiled. “Is this a new game?”
“It’s an experiment,” Ling said.
“Science again.” Wai-Mae sighed. “Very well, Little Warrior. But then we must make our opera.”
Ling led the way through the forest. For once, Wai-Mae wasn’t chattering, and Ling could sense her wariness.
“Where are you taking me?” Wai-Mae asked.
“Just a little farther now.”
As they broke through the line of trees, the entrance to the tunnel loomed.
Wai-Mae stepped back, scowling. “Why have you brought me to this cursed place?”
“Why don’t you want to go inside?”
“I’ve told you! Something terrible happened there. She lives there now.”
“The veiled woman. The one who cries.”
“Yes, yes. I’ve told you all of this before,” Wai-Mae said, looking away.
“How do you know this?”
“I-I just do! I can… feel her.”
“Why is it that you can feel her emotions but Henry and I can’t?”
“How should I know?” Wai-Mae snapped. She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t want to stay here. Let’s go back.”
“You know what happened in there, don’t you? You’ve always known. Who is she?”
“Stop it!”
“Remember, Wai-Mae. I know you don’t want to, but you must. You must remember what happened.”
“I won’t have my dreams ruined.”
Ling didn’t move. “Wai-Mae, a terrible injustice was done to you, and for that, I’m sorry. I am so sorry for all the pain. But you can be at peace now. You can be at rest. I can help you.”
Wai-Mae looked baffled. “I’m already at peace. Here. In dreams.”
“Just come inside with me. That’s all I’m asking,” Ling said, taking a step backward toward the tunnel. The skin of her neck prickled into gooseflesh. “Walk through the tunnel with me this one time, and I promise I’ll never mention it ever again.”
Ling took another step backward and Wai-Mae’s mouth parted in horror. “Sister! You mustn’t go in—it isn’t safe!”
“Why? What will she do to me?”
Ling took another step, and Wai-Mae balled her fists at her mouth. Her eyes were huge. “She’ll… she’ll… don’t.”
“In science, we need proof. Prove me wrong. Come after me.”
And with that, Ling stepped inside the tunnel.
“Ling! Please!”
Wai-Mae’s cry echoed around Ling. She kept her eyes on Wai-Mae, standing in the sunshine, but she could feel the darkness at her back. Her skin buzzed with fear.
Wai-Mae came closer. Her breathing was shallow, her voice desperate. “Please, Ling.”
Heart hammering, Ling took another step backward, and another. Behind her, the dark sighed, like a long gust of wind through dry leaves, and it took all of Ling’s will not to run back toward the light.
Wai-Mae hesitated for another moment, and then, carefully, she stepped into the darkness, glancing around fearfully at the earthen tomb. Nothing happened, and Ling wondered if perhaps she’d gotten it wrong after all.
“Sister? Where are you?”
“I’m here,” Ling said, her voice hoarse. “Come to me.”
As Wai-Mae moved through the dark, light crackled along the walls, making her jump.
“Please. Let’s go back, Ling.”
“Just a little closer,” Ling said.
The bricks sputtered to life, glowing with so many dreams. Like a curious child, Wai-Mae drew closer to the wall. She put her hand to first one, then another, then another, staring at the image of the veiled woman as she ran toward Devlin’s.
Wai-Mae sang, soft as a lullaby. “La-la-la-la-la… wake unto me. Starlight… sweet dreams…” Her song became a whisper. “Are waiting. Waiting for… for… me .”
A phosphorescent aura softened the outline of Wai-Mae, like something raised from the deep, and then she fell into the dirt, her face in her hands. The howl torn from her nearly broke Ling’s heart.
“Why?” Wai-Mae sobbed.
“I’m sorry,” Ling said, fighting tears. “So sorry.”
“How could you do this to me?” Wai-Mae said, shaking.
“Let me help you, Wai-Mae.”
Wai-Mae’s eyes flashed. Her teeth lengthened, sharpening to points. “You are dishonorable! Like the man who tricked me here.”
Behind Ling, the dark felt alive. Nails clicked on stone. Scratching. And Ling didn’t know what was more terrifying—the thought of what might lie in the vast dark behind her or the creature transforming before her. Wai-Mae rose from the dirt, walking slowly toward Ling. As she did, her modest tunic shifted into the long white dress. Bloodstains seeped through and stretched across the fabric in flowering wounds. The headpiece dissolved, and Wai-Mae’s neatly coiled dark hair came undone. It fell loose across her shoulders, snarled and broken. Her sharp teeth gleamed. Purple pockmarks painted themselves upon the pale ribbon of Wai-Mae’s throat. Her waspish voice stung the air: “I will show you the terror of your desires. I will show you the folly of dreams. I will show you how the world tears you apart. Here is your dream turned to dust.”
The veil descended. In her hand was the dagger. Wai-Mae lunged, grabbing the back of Ling’s neck. “Dream with me, sister,” she growled, plunging the dagger in. She parted her lips and pressed her dream into Ling’s mouth.
Ling fought back until she no longer could. Her arms hung at her sides, loose and long, as if she’d put down a heavy burden at last.
And then she was tumbling down.
Mabel shut off the alarm, but Henry and Ling slept on.
Jericho’s face was grave. “I can’t wake her.”
Theta shook Henry. “Wake up! Come on, Hen! Please.”
In the eerie silence that followed, Theta stood and faced everyone. “Well, I’m not sitting here while that witch kills my best friend. I say we go into the tunnels and find that train station and whatever is so damned important down there. I say we burn it if we gotta. Whaddaya got around this Creepy Crawly to help us out?”
Mabel
rifled through drawers, pulling out all manner of things—ceremonial knives, protective charms, a wooden stake, stones, and a wooden box.
“Any of these things work?” Theta asked, examining a woven wheel with feathers attached.
“Possibly,” Jericho said. “The trouble is, we don’t know how they work. And Will has always said that each culture has its specific beliefs about ghosts. You can’t guarantee that a gris gris bag will keep you safe from a Chinese ghost, for instance. You’d need to know more about what you’re up against.”
“How can we find that out?” Theta asked. “The two people who know the most about our ghost are out cold.”
“Maybe if we had somebody who could get a read on the situation once we’re down there?” Sam said and looked over at Evie, slumped in her chair.
“I don’t think Evil could read the directions on a can of beans right now,” Theta said.
“I am perfectly capable, I can assure you,” Evie sniffed.
“Swell. Somebody get the Great Blotto some coffee.” Sam opened the weapons cabinet. “And a few of these knives couldn’t hurt.”
“Agreed. These flashlights will also come in handy,” Memphis said, testing the batteries in each one.
“Jericho, you and Mabel stay here and keep trying to wake them up,” Sam said as he grabbed for his jacket.
“I should come with you,” Jericho protested. “I’m bigger.”
“Yeah, I know. I got eyes,” Sam sniped. “But if something goes really south with Ling and Henry, we need somebody who could drag them off to the showers. Or fight whatever comes in here.”
“I don’t like it,” Jericho said.
“I don’t like any of this, pal!” Sam yelled. “If you got a better idea, let me know.”
Jericho didn’t have a better idea, but he resented being stuck at the museum instead of where the action was. That was always his role, and he was tired of it. “Fine,” he grumbled.
“Theta, I’d feel a whole lot better if you stayed here,” Memphis said.
“Nothing doing. Henry’s my best friend, my only family. He’s all I got.”
“You’ve got me,” Memphis said softly.
“Poet, I didn’t mean it that way.…”
“Mabel shouldn’t go. Theta shouldn’t go. Why is no one being chival… chivaroos… how come none of you bums is looking out for me?” Evie pouted as she sprawled across her chair.
“I am,” Theta said. She yanked Evie to a sitting position, put a cup of coffee to her lips, and practically poured it down her throat.
By the time Theta, Memphis, Evie, and Sam reached City Hall Park, the rain was coming down steadily. Gutters ran with leaf-clogged, muddy rivers, all of it pouring down into the sewers and drains. From here, they could see the police lights still shining on Chinatown, but the park was empty.
“Remember, people have been disappearing in these tunnels,” Memphis said. “Keep your wits about you.”
“If that’s supposed to make me feel better, you better find another line of work,” Sam said.
“Then here’s something else to cheer you,” Memphis said. He held the lapels of his coat close to his neck and looked up at the stormy gray clouds in the night sky. “We better hope those tunnels don’t fill up.”
“Let’s ankle. I want this over with and Henry safe,” Theta said, shivering in the cold rain.
“I’d say our best bet is to try getting there through the City Hall station,” Memphis said.
“We really gotta go through those tunnels?” Theta asked.
Memphis offered an apologetic shrug. “I don’t see any other way.”
They hurried down the steps of the City Hall station and pushed through the turnstiles. The platform was deserted.
“Gee. Like a library in here. Hello!” Evie called, letting her voice echo down the tracks.
“Can it, Evil!” Theta snapped. “If those… things… are down here, you really want ’em sniffing after us?”
Evie bowed her head, cowed. “I just like how my voice sounds.”
Theta rolled her eyes. “Ain’t that the truth.”
“This way,” Memphis whispered, and they followed him to the end of the platform, peering over the railing to the tracks below.
Theta stared down at the drop. “You gotta be kidding me.”
Memphis held her hand. “I’ll help you, Princess. Just stick with me.”
“Poet, I’m gonna stick so close to you you’ll think you gained a hundred and two pounds.”
Memphis climbed over and jumped down first. He caught Theta, enjoying the weight of her in his arms. “Piece of cake,” he said, smiling. “Come on down, Evie.”
Evie attempted to clear the railing, but her heel caught. She took a flying leap, nearly flattening Memphis as she tumbled. “Careful, there,” he said, catching her.
“Which way?” Sam asked, jumping down and wiping his hands on his trousers.
“Ling said Beach’s pneumatic train station was near Broadway and Warren Streets, so that way.” Memphis pointed straight ahead to the long curve of tunnel, lit only by a series of work lights high on the walls. It was dark and filthy and dangerous—no ledge, just wall and track. If a train were to come now, they’d be trapped. The third rail thrummed with electricity they could feel in the air and on the backs of their teeth.
“Watch out for that. That’s the one with all the juice,” Sam warned.
“It’s freezing down here,” Evie grumbled, the edges of her words still a bit messy. The coffee and the bitter cold had managed to take her from very drunk to less drunk with shades of irritable and belligerent.
“You’ll live,” Sam said. “Unless those hungry wraiths get us, in which case you won’t, but you also won’t have to worry about being cold anymore. So all in all, it’s a grand night in Manhattan. Hip, hip, hooray.”
“You’re in a very funny mood,” Evie said.
“I’m a funny guy,” Sam grumbled and kept his flashlight trained on the path ahead. “Just keep walking.”
Memphis lifted his eyes, taking in the grimy grandeur of the underground. “It’s sort of beautiful, though, isn’t it? Like a city below the city.”
“If you say so, Poet. How much farther?” Theta asked, keeping her eyes on the edge of the ties; she didn’t want her shoes getting caught between them.
Memphis bounced his flashlight beam across the concrete archways. “If Ling’s right about the location of Beach’s station, maybe a hundred feet?”
A rat scuttled quickly along the tracks, making Theta gasp. Memphis put his arm around her. “It’s more scared of us than we are of it.”
“It must be pretty scared, then,” Theta said.
The passageway took on water as they walked. It smelled of sulfur and rot. They covered their noses, breathing through their mouths.
“Sam,” Evie said a moment later, “I don’t know what’s happening.”
“How drunk are you?”
“No. I mean… I mean ’bout any of this. About the dead and John Hobbes. Will. Rotke. Those cards we found. Project Buffalo,” she said, the last word tripping off her booze-thickened tongue. “I need to tell you something, Sam. It’s about tonight and what happened at the show.”
Sam gestured to the dark underground, his flashlight beam bouncing off the metal and earth. “You want to have this conversation now? Here?”
“Shhh, listen. This fella brought a comb for me to read. Sam, it was James’s comb,” Evie said, keeping one hand on his back to steady herself.
“What are you talking about?”
“The comb. He said it belonged to his pal, but he was lying. That comb belonged to my brother. When I was under? I saw James.”
Sam kept the flashlight trained on the path ahead as he took in what Evie was saying. “Did you know this fella?”
“Not from Adam. I swear.”
“So how’d this Abe Stranger get your brother’s comb?”
“He told me these men paid him to bring it to me. Men in dark
suits.”
“You think they’re the same guys who busted in while we were in the post office?”
“I don’t know, Sam. I don’t know anything anymore.” Evie swallowed. “Like you and me, for instance.”
“There is no you and me. You made that pretty clear tonight,” Sam muttered. “Listen, you asked me to play a part, and I did. From now on, I travel solo.”
“Now who’s lying? You forget. I read your personal effects. I know you.”
“You know bupkes.”
But the gin had loosened the last of Evie’s restraint. “I’ve seen you. The true you. I’ve held your secrets in my hands. You’re scared, Sam. You pretend you’re not, but you are. Just like the rest of us.”
Sam whirled around. “All you know about are parties, good times, and telling people what they wanna hear on the radio. And breaking hearts.”
Sam pushed on, shining his flashlight ahead of them in the darkness. He hated that Evie had unsettled him like this. That was the trouble with letting people in—once you’d taken off the armor, it was hard to put it back on.
Evie stumbled after him. “Right! I forgot. I’m just a girl on the radio. Well, I only read what people choose to give me, Sam. You steal whatever you like and never think about what it costs anyone,” Evie said, eyes brimming with tears.
“Don’t cry,” Sam said. He was all balled up inside. “Please don’t cry. I got no defenses against girl tears.”
“You can’t have my tears, Sam Lloyd. I revoke them,” Evie said through chattering teeth. “But don’t go tellin’ me what I know. ’Cause you don’t know.”
“I don’t even know what we’re arguing about anymore.”
“Let’s just put the ghost to bed. I want a bath. I want twelve baths. And then, tomorrow, we can announce the tragic end of our engagement. You wanna be alone? Be alone,” Evie said, and she and Sam walked on in silence.
The water was now shin-deep. It sluiced up the sides of the tunnel as they walked and splashed up onto their clothes, chilling them through. Evie glanced through the arched steel supports of the subway tunnel toward the other side of the tracks and the platform heading in the opposite direction. The dark lit up for a second, revealing the bleached form of a man wearing a miner’s hat. But there was something not quite right about him. He fell into a squat, his mouth opening and closing, opening and closing.