Dark Metropolis (15 page)

A
fter his breakfast the next morning, Amsel followed his usual schedule of sitting in the window and staring at the birds that flocked in a nearby tree, and then curling up against Freddy’s pillow and falling fast asleep. Amsel had not been a young cat when he died, and he was not very active in his second life.

Freddy, meanwhile, did not have his usual schedule at all. No one woke him in the morning to go to Uncle’s. Gerik didn’t come around until well after breakfast.

“No revivals today, lad,” he said, lingering in the doorway uncomfortably. “I told Rory you ought to have some space today, since things didn’t work out with Thea. He only had two anyway, so you can do them tomorrow. Just get some rest. Work on your clocks.”

Freddy didn’t respond, but Gerik didn’t stay long enough to notice.

Freddy was certainly not interested in clocks at the moment. He wanted to see the people he had brought back. Maybe he could find a way to save them, if he could get down there. There must be an entrance beneath Uncle’s house where the guards took the revived people away. But there were always so many eyes on him.

The sun was beginning to set when Amsel suddenly lifted his head from sleep and began to sniff the air.

“Amsel?” Freddy went to him, and Amsel started grooming Freddy’s hand. Freddy stroked Amsel’s back, noticing that his fur seemed dull and he no longer felt so nice to touch. He felt sort of dried out, somehow. His eyes, too, looked odd—his pupils were dilated with excitement, but his eyes looked sick. Freddy couldn’t pinpoint it exactly. He didn’t look dead. But—wrong.

Amsel’s jaws suddenly clamped on Freddy’s hand, and when Freddy jerked away, he was bleeding from several deep gashes. Amsel often nipped at Freddy in play, but he never bit or scratched. Amsel’s jaws reached for another bite, and Freddy shoved the cat into the pillow reflexively.

“No!” Freddy shouted, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to catch the blood. Amsel suddenly bolted under the bed with a low growl.

Freddy got on the floor, seeing Amsel’s eyes gleaming in the shadows. He hissed when Freddy reached for him. Freddy drew back, reaching instead for the thread that connected him to Amsel.

Amsel was scared. Freddy felt it. He hadn’t felt Father Gruneman’s feelings like this, but maybe, he thought, because
of his years spent so close to Amsel, or maybe because his animal
mind was unguarded, Freddy understood that the cat was confused—he didn’t want to hurt Freddy, but he was hungry.

And Freddy was food.

Freddy yanked open his desk drawer and took out the serum. He opened the bottle and held it out. “Come on, boy. Medicine.”

But plain old serum offered no temptation to the cat.

Freddy put the bottle away and yanked the bellpull. The maid appeared in a moment. “Yes, Master Linden?”

“Can you just bring me some bread and pâté?”

She didn’t even blink at the idea that Freddy might want food at this hour. Nothing he ate ever stuck with him for more than an hour or two. “Of course.”

He sat on the bed. It looked empty without Amsel curled up on it. He kept remembering Amsel’s fear and confusion.

He wondered if people felt that, too, without the serum.

Forgive me.

This was wrong. He felt the wrongness of it now. He understood how the people in earlier generations with reviving magic would have known not to hold a person to the earth—even if they were tempted, the sickness and the hunger would have forced them to cut the thread.

No one was supposed to live beyond death.

The maid brought the plate, and Freddy mixed the serum into the pâté. He slid it under the bed and Amsel gobbled it hungrily. When he was done, he licked his lips and his paws, and then he came out and pressed his head against Freddy’s leg.

Freddy gathered him up. The cat’s fur still felt a little strange, but he was purring and content now. He held Amsel against him, close enough to feel his heartbeat. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you—for being here. I was never alone with you here. Amsel…”

In his arms, Amsel sighed—tired, but content.

Freddy cut the thread.

L
ate that night, a rough hand shook Freddy from sleep. He rolled onto his back, opening his eyes to see Uncle looming over him in the moonlight.

His first thought was that Gerik had told him about Amsel. Gerik had been angry and suspicious about the cat. “We’ll discuss it later,” he had said, but now it was the middle of the night. Something else must have happened.

“Beg your pardon, Freddy, but this is important,” Uncle said in a tone that did not seem to be begging any pardon at all. “I want you to revive someone right away. Get some shoes on and meet us in a moment. Don’t dawdle, please.”

“Who am I reviving?”

Gerik was standing behind Uncle, tugging thoughtfully at his sideburns. “We’ll talk about it when we get there, lad.”

A few minutes later they were in Gerik’s car, whipping down the empty street behind Uncle’s chauffeur. Once inside the house, Uncle led the way, not to the workroom but to what appeared to be a guest bedroom, blandly furnished with heavy drapes and antique furniture. A body awaited on the bed, partially unwrapped from a swath of blankets.

Why would they need to bring him to a different room? He didn’t see any guards around, and Uncle seemed a little rattled. Whatever had happened, it seemed he didn’t want anyone to know.

Nothing had been done to clean up the body—there was blood on its drab one-piece work suit, and even on the floor. Uncle was frowning at…her—Freddy was close enough now to see it was a girl, and not just any girl.

It’s Nan, damn it—it’s Nan. What did they do?

The last time, she had been unmarked, and her face had been like that of someone sleeping. Now there was blood everywhere, and her expression remained one of shock. When he got closer, he saw there was a wound in her chest, like she’d been shot in the heart.

He looked at Uncle. “What did you do to her?”

“Who said
I
did anything to her?” Uncle’s eyes moved to the wound, a slight frown tugging at his mouth. “Remember how she tried to attack you? Well, she tried it with me. One of the guards shot her.”

“Where did this happen?”

“Just revive her, Freddy, and we’ll talk about it later,” Gerik said impatiently.

“Why do you even want me to revive her again if she attacked me and then you? There’s more to this, isn’t there?”

“It isn’t your concern.” Uncle sounded angry. “I only ask this one simple thing. Revive the girl.”

Freddy’s magic felt as itchy and urgent as ever. He took her hand, trying to see if he could sense anything strange. A current of discomfort passed through him. He had never tried to revive the same person twice. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to do such a thing.

“I need privacy to concentrate,” he said. If this worked, he didn’t want to talk to her with Gerik and Uncle in the room.

“Why don’t you try doing it with us here,” Uncle said, pushing Freddy toward the bed. “After all, she tried to kill you last time, so I’d rather not leave you alone.”

Magic tingled in his hands.
No, not yet.
He forced his magic to stay back. He could feel it beginning to work, and jerked his hand away from Nan.

“The magic is making him sick,” Gerik said. “Look how pale he’s gotten. Come on, let’s just step out for a minute. It’s all right, Freddy. We’ll be right outside if you need us.”

“Why don’t you let me handle this?” Uncle snapped. “Your soft approach has caused far, far too much trouble as it is. Freddy…you remember. The welfare of your family depends on your cooperation. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

They slipped out the door. Freddy knew he had only moments, but if he could get Nan out of here, bring her somewhere safe…

He noticed the fireplace behind him. Quietly, he drew the poker out from its stand. His hand clenched around it. He would have only one chance to strike at Uncle and Gerik. One chance without a guard at the door.

He hurried over to Nan and grabbed her hand. A warm rush of magic flowed from his hands, and he exhaled with relief.

Her fingers stirred beneath his touch while a wave of nausea rippled through him. His ears filled with a resonant thrum like a bow drawn slowly over the strings of a giant cello. The sound was beautiful, like the very sound of magic itself, and he felt as if something were taken from him and given, both at once. As if some greater force than his own magic worked through him. “Nan—” His eyes filled with stars, and he kept clutching her hand, even when he couldn’t see, reeling under the waves of power sweeping through him. It had never felt like this before.

She coughed, sounding weak.

He staggered backward, fumbling for the wall so he could lean against something solid. The room was swirling.

The door flew open.

“Freddy!” Gerik had a hand around him. “What’s happened?”

“I don’t quite know,” Uncle answered, when Freddy couldn’t find his voice. “It looks like magical backlash. As if he tried to tap into something too strong for him. It’s like something is working through that girl.”

Freddy couldn’t focus, couldn’t even stand anymore. The room seemed to have turned sideways, and all he could see were swirls of color. He felt Gerik grab him under the shoulder and nearly drag him toward the door, away from Nan.

“
A
ll right, lad, we’re here. Have a rest.”

Freddy felt the edge of a bed and collapsed onto it. He shut his eyes, letting the spinning room wind down like a top. He didn’t have time to feel ill.

“What happened?” Gerik asked again. “Was she violent again? Why were you holding a poker?”

Freddy shook his head. He didn’t want to talk, especially not to Gerik, who was happy enough to call him “lad” and tell him to rest and eat, but not to answer a single question worth asking, much less truly take his side.

“All right. Well, just get some rest.” Gerik patted his shoulder and left the room. Freddy lay still, waiting for his head to clear. He had to get back to Nan before he lost his chance.

Suddenly he was coming to.

The day had warmed. The sun had moved dramatically.

Damn it to hell.

He’d missed his chance to fight back and run Nan out of there, but then, she hadn’t exactly popped off the bed, either. Maybe neither of them was much good for a hasty escape. If she was still in the house, she might be feeling better now. Could he find a way to sneak her out?

He crept to the door, hearing footsteps somewhere distant, but when he peered out, the hall was empty. He didn’t know the layout of Uncle’s upstairs floor well, but she must be in a different bedroom nearby.

He heard voices and footsteps approaching, and scrambled back onto the bed, closing his eyes. If Uncle knew he was feeling better, he’d probably find a way to keep Freddy from further exploration. The door creaked open.

“Looks like he’s still asleep,” Gerik said softly. “Maybe we should just let him rest a bit longer.”

“Not too much longer. I have a few more revivals for him.”

“Really? Do you think he ought to do any more of that, after what happened earlier?”

“He skipped yesterday! It’s unpleasant when we leave them for too long. Anyway, he’s fine. He just had a reaction to the girl. What
is
she? Is she even human?” They were whispering now, and the voices became fainter as the door gently shut behind them.

Freddy would not be dragged off to revive yet more people. He was going to find a way out of here. Now. No matter what he had to do.

When he heard Gerik’s and Uncle’s footsteps go down the stairs, he rushed into the hall, passing empty bedrooms. One door at the other end was closed. Even as he turned the handle, he heard Nan groan.

“Nan?” he whispered. “Are you all right?”

Her hands and feet were bound, and she had a gag in her mouth. Her eyes were barely open. He could smell the metallic tang of her blood.

He pulled the gag from her mouth. “We have to get out of here. I know about the underground, the serum, everything.”

She looked at him, eyes glazed. Did she understand?

“Freddy,” she said slowly. “I’m sorry I tried to kill you…before.”

“Don’t worry about that. Let me get you out of here.” He reached for the bonds at her wrists and worked the knot free.

“I don’t think I’m strong enough to escape….I can feel myself knitting back together, and it’s—it’s awful.” She winced as she spoke. “But you—you need to go. There’s an entrance to the underground in Vogelsburg. It won’t be guarded.”

“Vogelsburg?”

“You have to save them. Let them…see the sun before they die. Get Sigi…out of the cage. Please.” Her eyes shut tight, and a spasm racked her body. He touched her arm, instinctively trying to soothe her, but she flinched. Was she going to die, even with his magic? “Just—be careful. There are…
things
down there.”

“I will,” he said. “But who is Sigi?”

She had already gone limp again, her eyes open but glazed, and then they shut, and she breathed heavily.

The sound of a maid’s voice elsewhere in the house pulled his attention from Nan. “Mr. Valkenrath, sir?” she was calling. “There is a woman downstairs to see you. Mrs. Arabella von Kaspar.”