The Fire Chronicle (34 page)

Snow swirled past them. Buildings raced by. The boy looked at her, the lights in passing windows sweeping across his face. He took off his jacket and slipped it around her shoulders.

“I’ll tell you,” he said. “First let’s get somewhere safe.”

Kate and the boy rode the train all the way downtown, getting off at a stop near the Bowery. Rafe didn’t want to go back to the church. Not right away, he said. Just in case the Imps were following them somehow. Kate didn’t argue, but by the time they got off, her hands were frozen into claws, and her forehead and ears ached from the cold.

They had not spoken during the trip. It had been too difficult to make themselves heard over the constant rattling and the metal-on-metal shriek of the brakes every time the train
turned a corner or came into a station. And besides, Kate had had no idea what to say. For now that the immediate danger was past, she couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d learned from the Dire Magnus and what it meant about Rafe. Was Rafe her enemy? How much did he know? And what was she supposed to do? Scruggs had said that the
Atlas
had brought her here for a reason; so what was it? She felt confused and wished she could shut off her mind; but each time she looked at Rafe and met his eyes, she was reminded of how the Dire Magnus’s milky eyes had glowed green at that last moment, and her thoughts began spinning all over again.

As they came down the steps from the platform, Rafe said, “You’ll need a longer jacket. That’s dress ain’t exactly subtle.”

The clothing stalls were mostly closed or closing, it being New Year’s Eve, but Rafe managed to buy a long wool coat that stretched nearly to Kate’s knees, covering the white dress, as well as keeping her warm.

Being in the Bowery, Kate felt an odd sense of coming full circle. This was where she’d arrived two days before, and now she was back, and with Rafe. She had the sense that things were nearing their end, but she still didn’t know what she was supposed to be doing.

As they walked along, Kate noticed, as she hadn’t that first morning with Jake and Beetles, that nearly every other storefront was a saloon or a theater or a dance hall. Loud laughter and music spilled out onto the street, and there were signs in the windows saying
CELEBRATE THE END OF THE CENTURY
! And men and women staggered by with their arms around each other, singing.

Rafe stopped in the middle of the street and looked around.

“In a couple hours, none of them will remember that such a thing as magic was ever real. Doesn’t seem right somehow. After all they’ve done to us.”

Kate shivered and pulled her coat closer. The boy looked at her.

“You had anything to eat since lunch? You gotta be hungry.”

He started to turn, but she took his arm.

“The reason you came for me, it’s because you know me, right? The same way you recognized me that first day. How—”

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna tell you. I promise.”

There was a girl going between saloons with a tray filled with ears of hot sweet corn stuck onto tiny spears, and Rafe got one for each of them, which they ate as they walked through the maze of streets, making way for weaving bands of revelers. The corn was even better than the potato Kate had had with the boys that first day, and when she was finished, Rafe bought them a cup of steaming cider to share. They huddled near the cider man’s cart, sipping the strong, spicy drink and passing the cup back and forth.

“Did you meet him?”

Kate looked at Rafe, but the boy had his face over the steaming mug. She knew who he meant but asked anyway. “Who?”

“The man who runs the Imps.”

Kate’s own voice sounded hollow to her ears. “Yes. I met him.”

“What’s his name?”

“I—I don’t know. They call him … the Dire Magnus.”

“Did he say anything about me?”

It seemed to Kate that the noise from the saloons and theaters had died away, and all she could hear was the furious pounding of her heart.

“He never mentioned your name.”

That, at least, wasn’t a lie. But again, Kate felt like things were spinning out of her control, and beyond her understanding.

The boy nodded. “So you want to hear how I know you?”

“Yes.”

“Come on then. I have to show you something.”

They turned down the next street and passed through a dense warren of alleys, and Kate noticed more dwarves and a few gnomes, and men and women in cloaks, and she realized they had entered the magic quarter. Then, on a narrow, nearly lightless street, Rafe led her down an alley next to a three-story tenement, and, stopping under the fire escape, leapt and grabbed hold of the ladder, pulling it down, along with a great cascade of snow, most of which landed on his head. Kate laughed; she couldn’t help it.

“Yeah,” the boy said, smiling, “should’ve expected that.”

He shook himself like a dog, the snow flying off him, though for a time afterward his dark hair was streaked with white, like an old man’s. They climbed to the roof, and he led her to the side of the building that faced the street. He brushed the snow from the ledge so they could lean against the wall. The music and laughter from the saloons and dance halls sounded faint and far away. Rafe gestured.

“See that building across the way? The window three stories up on the left. Watch; the light should go on in a minute.”

Kate waited. It was cold on the roof, and she could feel the boy’s shoulder pressed against her own.

“There,” he said quietly. And Kate felt that he’d been holding his breath and only now let it out. She saw that the window was indeed illuminated, and an old woman was shuffling about a small apartment.

“That’s where my mother and I lived. She moved us in a week after we landed in New York. I was just a baby. My dad had died; that was why we came here. She made her living as a scryer.”

“What’s a scryer?” Kate asked. Her hands were balled deep in the pockets of her coat, and she had turned her head to look at him. Only the boy’s eyes reflected the lights from the street; his face was in shadow. He kept his gaze fixed upon the window.

“It’s someone who can see things that ain’t there. She’d take a bowl a’ water, pour in some oil, and then she could see whatever she wanted to, no matter how far away. And people would pay her to show ’em things. Sometimes, it’d be when they’d lost something valuable, like a ring or a watch or something. More often, it’d be people who’d just come to New York, wanting to see the ones they’d left behind, their mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters. Sometimes parents looking at children. Watching ’em grow up in my ma’s bowl. She did it for everyone. Magic and normal folk alike. They all loved her for it. Our apartment was only one room. I used to be there, behind the blanket that hid my bed, and I would watch ’em, men and women, crying, hugging her. She never asked for much money. Just enough for us to live.”

“Who lives there now?”

“No one. I pay the rent myself. The old woman lives below. She comes up every night and turns on the light.”

And you come up here and watch, Kate thought, and imagine your mother’s still alive.

Then he said again, quietly, “Everyone loved her.”

And Kate knew he was talking about himself.

They were both silent. Kate could sense that the boy was gearing up for what he had to tell her and that there was no need to press. He began speaking again with no warning.

“So one night this man comes to our apartment. He said he wanted to see his wife, and I remember he threw down all this money. He was drunk and calling his wife names. ‘Show ’er to me! She’s hiding! Show ’er to me!’

“I was there behind the blanket separating my bed from the apartment, and I watched my mother get out her bowl and pour the oil in it and light the candle. And she told the man she’d need something from the woman, like a lock of hair or something that had belonged to her. And the man laughed and he reached into his pocket and he threw down a silver ring. It was a wedding ring, I could tell. I saw my mother take it and she was real still, you know, real quiet. And she put the ring into the bowl and I could see her whispering and concentrating real hard, and the man was breathing loud and heavy. And he started asking, ‘What do you see? Where is she? Where’s she hiding?’ And my mother said nothing for a long time, then she looked up from the bowl and she said, ‘Did you do that to her?’ And the man, he started cursing her, saying she was magic scum, and it was none of her business
and if she didn’t want the same done to her and worse she’d tell him where the woman was, and my ma just took the bowl a’ water and splashed it on the floor and told him to get the hell out.”

The boy paused, his gaze still fixed on the lit window across the street.

“He knocked her down to the floor. I ran out and was screaming at the man and hitting him, and I could hear my ma yelling at me to get back, and the man hit me and my head banged the wall and it all went black. When I woke up, the room was quiet, and I was on the floor and my ma was lying beside me on the floor and she was dead.”

Kate stared at the boy, hardly able to believe what he was saying, that this had happened, her heart breaking for him. Rafe went on; he hadn’t finished his story.

“They buried my ma in pauper’s field. I got back from the funeral and there were people who wanted to put me in a home. But I hid. See, I knew who the man was. He owned a butcher’s a few blocks over. No one had arrested him or nothing. They were all normal humans, him, the cops. So that night after the funeral, I snuck in his shop, and when he come in the next morning, I took one a’ his own knives and stabbed him through the heart. People seen me do it and come after me. That was when Miss B saved me.”

He fell silent, and the city seemed quiet around them.

“Thing is, my ma always told me I had a destiny. She said, ‘When you get older, you’ll have to choose.’ She always said that. ‘You’ll have to choose.’ Then she died, and years later, I had this dream. I saw this person. I didn’t know what it meant, so I went
to this witch. She’s young, but real powerful. She can see things. She told me that the person in my dream would show me who I was, what my destiny was.”

He looked at Kate.

“It was you in my dream. That was how I recognized you.”

Their faces were only inches apart. Kate couldn’t move.

“But she told me,” the boy went on, “that after I find out the truth, you’ll die. That’s why you’ve gotta leave. Promise me. Promise me that tomorrow you’ll leave. You’ll go up north or wherever, but you’ll get away from me. Promise.”

And then he reached into his pocket and pulled out something and Kate saw that it was her mother’s locket, and not only that, it was strung on a golden chain, and it was her mother’s gold chain, and she realized he must’ve gotten it that afternoon, tracked down the man who’d sold her the coat, and she felt a tightness in her heart as he reached around her neck and fastened the clasp.

“There, now you got everything. You have to go.”

They climbed down the fire escape and began walking through the streets. Kate assumed they were heading to the church, but she didn’t ask. She found her hand in his, but if she had taken his hand or if he had taken hers, she couldn’t say.

Neither spoke. It had begun snowing once again.

Three blocks from his mother’s apartment, the party from a dance hall suddenly flowed out into the street, the revelers and musicians streaming around the boy and girl, and, as the band struck up, fifty people began dancing all around them.

Rafe turned toward her. Kate had never danced with a boy before and wasn’t sure what to do. But without a word, Rafe put one hand around her waist and took her free hand in his own and guided her, in a slow spinning circle, around the snowy street. She felt his fingers wind through hers, and soon she rested her head on his shoulder. She imagined she could feel his heart beating against her chest.

Kate wished she could reach inside herself and call up the magic to stop time.

I could live here, she thought, in this moment.

The song finally came to an end. The band began playing another, but Kate and Rafe stayed as they were, in the midst of the turning men and women. At some point, Kate tasted salt and realized she was crying.

Rafe stepped back. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

She stared at him. He had the eyes of her enemy, but he wasn’t her enemy. He couldn’t be!

“It’s about him, isn’t it? The Dire Magnus? Tell me. Please. Whatever it is you’re afraid of, it doesn’t have to happen. We can change it.”

Kate nodded. She had to tell him. He deserved to know. And maybe, just maybe—

“Rafe!”

A small shape was pushing through the crowd of dancers. It was Beetles; his face was flushed and terrified.

“You gotta come! You gotta come now! They’re burning the church!”

The smoke rose in a thick column from somewhere past the curve of the valley. There were no sounds to be heard. Even the birds had fallen silent. Michael stood with his sister and Gabriel atop the half-demolished tower.

“How do we even know it’s him?” Emma asked. “Maybe someone just, you know, forgot to put out their campfire?”