Everwild (21 page)

Mary finally cast her eyes down, and, satisfied, the gray-suited thug stepped back. “Your blimp is now the property of the Death Boss,” he said, “and so are all your Afterlights.”

Mary tugged at her chains but it did no good. Her miscalculation had not only cost Mary her own freedom, but her children as well. The anguish stabbed as deep as a blade in living flesh, but she would not let it show. Instead, she said with all the defiance she could muster, “It's not a blimp. Any imbecile can tell you it's a rigid airship.”

To which the largest of the thugs calmly replied, “It is whatever Pugsy Capone says it is.”

Then they left her there to stew in her own intentions, chained to a flying statue that couldn't fly.

Pugsy Capone, Death Boss of Chicago, Lord of the White City, was a very shrewd Afterlight. Shrewd enough to have trapped almost a thousand Afterlights under his “protection.” He was a spirit who not only saw afterlife as a competition, but as a competition where points were scored by creating the greatest amount of misery. The thought of dethroning the infamous “Mary Queen of Snots,” was the stuff of dreams for him, and had a very high point value, indeed.

However, as Mary had hoped, the thrill of capturing her eventually gave way to his curiosity. It took a while—mainly because he had a new toy: the
Hindenburg
, which he insisted on calling a blimp, and no one dared to correct him—not even Speedo, who was told he'd be sleeping with the magma if he didn't pilot Pugsy anywhere he wanted to go.

It took a week for him to tire of tooling around the airspace above Chicago, and then his thoughts turned to the legendary girl sealed away in the Hall of Transportation. He would not lower himself to go to her; however, he had his three favored foot soldiers bring her to him.

After a week, Mary's spirit had not been broken. It would take more than shackles and solitude to humble Mary Hightower—although there were a few times that she became a bit delirious, and fantasized about Nick putting their battle aside, and barreling into Chicago on his train to rescue her. Her own fantasy infuriated her, because Mary was not, nor would ever be, a damsel in distress.

Finally Pugsy's boys arrived, unshackled her, and led her out into daylight, toward the giant Ferris wheel. She held herself high all the way there. Her presence there drew crowds that were quickly dispersed when the thugs gave them the evil eye.

The Ferris wheel was more than a mere amusement park ride. Its long rectangular gondolas were the size of railroad cars, each one capable of carrying dozens of people to vertigo-inducing heights. The door to the lowermost gondola was open, and Mary was led inside to what must have been the Death Boss's throne room.

The throne was a red leather armchair, and the boy who
sat in it was not at all what Mary expected. Pugsy Capone was a chubby thirteen-year-old in a pinstriped double-breasted suit that was noticeably tight. Mary wondered whether Pugsy immediately decided that since he was stuck wearing the clothes of a gangster, he ought to be one, or if he had simply forgotten who he was, and so defined himself by his attire. Mary suspected he had been in Everlost at least fifty years, by the style of his suit.

It was easy to see how Pugsy had gotten his name. He had unpleasantly bulging eyes, and his nose was pushed up and back, exposing his nostrils, as if he had died while pressing his face up against a window. He looked so much like a pug dog, Mary half expected him to bark.

His thugs took their place behind him, and folded their arms, taking on a posture of invulnerability and arrogance. There was also someone else present—a girl who lurked in a corner, looking on with mild interest. She had waves of unkempt blond hair filled with nettles and thorns, skin so tan it was difficult to determine her race, and a gaudy pendant with a sky-blue gem hanging around her neck. Mary found the girl's cool gaze more disconcerting than Pugsy's bug-eyed glare.

“I'm willing to listen to your pleas of mercy,” Pugsy said in a voice that would forever crack between octaves, having not finished changing while he was alive.

“I'm sorry to disappoint you,” said Mary, “but you'll be hearing no pleas of mercy from me.”

Pugsy shifted uncomfortably in his big armchair.

“What have you done with my children?” Mary asked.

The thug in the gray suit spoke up. “Who said you could ask questions?”

But Pugsy put up his hand to silence him. “I've put them in storage until I decide what to do with them. As for you, I was thinking it might be fun to chain you to the center of the Ferris wheel and watch you go round and round. What do you think?”

Mary fought back her urge to scold him for being such a thoroughly vile little urchin, and instead offered him her kindest smile.

“Come now,” she said, “surely the Death Boss of Chicago is above such pettiness. You must realize I'm far more useful as an ally than an ornament.”

That gave him pause for thought. If he hadn't realized it before, he was ready to consider it now. Here was the chance Mary had hoped for!

“You've built quite a civilization here in Chicago,” Mary told him. “You are to be congratulated.”

“Flattery from the Sky Witch! You really must want something from me!” He chuckled softly, and his henchmen took it as their cue to chuckle loudly.

“Do not call me that,” she said, forcefully but respectfully. “My name is Mary Hightower, and it is the only name I answer to,”

“I know your name,” said Pugsy, with an air of disgust in his voice. “So are you gonna tell me why you trespassed on my property?”

“I believe it's best if we discuss matters of importance alone,” Mary said. His thugs looked ready to stand their ground, and Mary noticed the girl in the corner smile, perhaps impressed with Mary's boldness.

Pugsy looked to his thugs. “Send us up to the top, and
wait for me on the ground,” he told them.

“Yes, boss,” they said, ever obedient.

Then he turned to the girl. “Why don't you go skinjack someone, and get today's sports scores.”

It was the first thing that Pugsy said that really caught Mary by surprise.

“Whatever you say,” said the girl with a toss of her crazy, nettle-nested hair, then she sauntered out behind the three thugs, eyeing Mary all the way.

In a moment the Ferris wheel grinded into motion, and the large car began a long, slow arc up and away.

“You trust a skinjacker?” Mary asked him.

“Sure,” said Pugsy, “she comes in very useful—no matter what you say in your books.”

“So, you've read my books, then?”

“Only what I could stomach.”

“You should attempt to ‘stomach' more,” Mary suggested. “I've shared all the things I've discovered here—all the things I know.”

“Yeah, well I know things too.”

Pugsy stood up and went to a window to admire the view. Mary knew he wasn't very tall, but she didn't realize how short and stocky he was until he stood up.

“So now that we're alone, are you gonna tell me why you're here?”

Mary decided to take the direct approach. “I propose an alliance between you and me. A partnership between
equals
.”

That made him laugh. “Equals? How do you figure that?” And he gestured out the window at his vast land holdings.

“I have no need to look,” she said. “My view from the
Hindenburg
is just as grand as yours.”

“Oh,” said Pugsy, “but this view is priceless.”

Finally Mary looked. They had just crested the peak of the Ferris wheel, and as they began the journey downward, the car next to them came into view. To Mary's horror, it was packed with children—
Mary's
children—every last one of them. They had been packed into that car like sardines. This is what Pugsy meant by “storage.”

“It's amazing,” said Pugsy. “Afterlights can fit into whatever space you want them to. All ninety-three of yours are in there.”

Mary couldn't find words to express her disgust.

“So you see,” said Pugsy. “I hold all the chips. You gotta do whatever I say, or they're the ones that'll suffer.”

Mary swallowed her urge to slap him silly, and spoke slowly, making sure all her words had time to sink in through his thick skull. “Treating me as an equal will elevate you far more than you can imagine.”

“Is that so?” He sneered.

“Yes, it is.” Then she put aside all modesty, false or otherwise. “In Everlost I am seen as a queen, an angel, a witch, an enchantress. I did not chose this, of course, but the fact remains that I am the stuff of legend. If you imprison me, you are a mere jail keeper.
But …
if you rise to be my equal, you will become legendary as well.”

“I already am legendary.”

Mary laughed dismissively. “Your infamy does not spread as far as you'd like to believe,” she told him. “East of Pittsburgh, and south of Indianapolis, I doubt anyone has
ever heard of you. And those who have heard of you, consider you … well … a gangster. But an alliance with me would legitimize what you've done here.”

“And what's in it for you?” Pugsy asked.

Mary had anticipated the question. In this, she chose to be direct as well. “No doubt you've heard of the Chocolate Ogre,” Mary said.

“I thought he was made-up.”

“No, he's very real. In a single day he could empty Chicago, so that not a single Afterlight remained under your ‘protection.'”

“I'd like to see him try,” said Pugsy.

“Don't underestimate him; he's very cunning,” Mary warned. “But with enough Afterlights, I can defeat him.”

She crossed to the other side of the car, giving him time to think about it. As she did, her velvet dress brushed against the back of the red leather armchair. She wondered if it was as comfortable as it looked.

“So … “said Pugsy, “you intend to build an army, is that it?”

“Oh, please!” Mary waved away the suggestion. “An army implies a war. I will not have a war … but I will protect Everlost from those who might wreak havoc on the order that you and I try to create. No, we won't have an army, but we will have freedom fighters.”

They reached the bottom of the wheel, and began to circle up once more.

“Agree to help me bring down the Chocolate Ogre,” said Mary, “and I will give my heartfelt, personal blessing to you, as ruler of Chicago, and—dare I say it—with my stamp
of approval, you could conceivably spread your reign to the rest of Everlost.”

Pugsy was dazzled by the concept. “I'd be the EverBoss!” he said.

Mary tried not to cringe. “If you wish.”

As they crested the peak again, they both looked to the next car, where Mary's children peered out, hopelessly cramped and tangled in their rotating cell.

“So,” asked Mary, “which will it be? Jailer … or Emperor?”

A pronouncement was made the following day. All of Pugsy's Afterlights were called out to the Court of Honor to hear it, as were all of Mary's children, who were released from their revolving prison without as much as an apology.

Mary and Pugsy stood side by side at the podium, although he stood on a box so he would appear as tall as her.

“I'm pleased to announce a new alliance between myself and Mary Hightower, Governess of the East,” Pugsy told the masses. “This will usher in a new age in Everlost.” Then he ordered everyone to celebrate.

There was a feast of crossed food—not all that much to eat, for even in Chicago edible pickings were slim, but it was the idea that counted, and everyone was in good spirits— even the Chicago kids, who, for once, had reason to cheer rather than to despair.

Mary allowed her children to mingle with the Chicago Afterlights, knowing that at the end of the celebration they would happily return to the comfort and routine of the
Hindenburg
.

Pugsy's three henchmen now treated Mary with the utmost respect, and would attempt to stand behind her and fold their arms as they did for Pugsy. Mary would have none of it. She didn't need bodyguards.

“Go practice your intimidation elsewhere,” she told them.

“Of course, Miss Mary,” they would obsequiously reply, as if being irritatingly polite would win her favor.

The skinjacking girl was a different matter. She moved in Pugsy's inner circle, but seemed immune to his rules. In fact, Mary noticed that Pugsy rarely ordered her to do anything, probably for fear that she would say “no.” The girl was like a cat, doing as she pleased, knowing she could get away with it.

It was toward the end of the celebration that she sidled up to Mary, to engage her in conversation for the first time.

“It took only two revolutions of the wheel for you to get Pugsy in your pocket,” she said. “You must be a witch after all.”

“I could say the same about you,” said Mary. “You certainly look the part.”

The skinjacker fluffed her tangled hair, but not a single nettle fell from it. “Didn't you write
‘It's patently wrong to hold an Afterlight responsible for the circumstance of their demise, and one should never make fun of unfortunate clothing and unexpected accessories'
?”

Mary was not pleased to have her own words used against her, but the skinjacker was right. Mary was breaking one of her own rules of etiquette. She took a moment to compose herself. “I'm sorry if we got off on the wrong foot,” Mary said. “You know who I am, but I'm afraid we've never
been properly introduced. May I ask your name?”

“I'm Jill,” she said. “My friends call me Jackin' Jill.”

“Well, Jill,” said Mary, “I suspect things will be changing around here. I sincerely hope you do well with change.”

Jackin' Jill nodded, but said nothing. Even so, Mary felt that they were both on better ground than when they started. Of course it didn't change her opinion of skinjackers, but if there was to be a shining new world order, everyone would have a part to play.