Everwild (23 page)

“Welcome to Everlost,” she would tell the confused, and often frightened, children. “My name is Miss Mary, and you are among friends.” Then she would present each of them with a volume of
Tips
for Taps,
her definitive book for new arrivals to Everlost—each book painstakingly handwritten by her children on paper scavenged from Pugsy's troves. Grateful for her kindness, these new children would imprint on her like ducklings, ensuring their allegiance, while Pugsy became little more than a distant figure in their minds, a footnote in their world at best.

From Pugsy's point of view, high atop his regal Ferris wheel, nothing had really changed. His subjects still feared him and obeyed his every whim. But now it was merely because Mary allowed it. Only when Mary made it clear that her ambitions stretched beyond Chicago, did he begin to worry about her intentions.

“Tell me what you know about the west,” she asked Pugsy one day. “Not what you've heard, but what you know.”

“There is no west,” he answered curtly. “Everlost ends at the Mississippi River.”

“Have you been there?”

“What's it to you?”

“I just assumed that a leader of your stature would want to see it with his own eyes.”

Pugsy took the flattery at face value and said, “I did. Once. There's a wind that blows from the other side. A crazy wind. I ordered a dozen Afterlights, one after the other, to cross the Centennial Bridge, but the wind wouldn't let them,
and each one of them sunk right through the bridge, into the river.”

The thought that he'd order so many Afterlights to their doom didn't sit well with Mary, but she tried not to show it. “Perhaps if you found a bridge that had crossed into Everlost …”

“There
are
no Everlost bridges that cross the Mississippi, because there's no Everlost there to cross into, so stop asking stupid questions.” He eyed her with suspicion, and Mary realized she had pushed too far.

“Perhaps my next book should be a collaboration,” Mary suggested. “I'm sure there are other things you know that I don't.”

“And it'll stay that way,” said Pugsy, closing the door to further conversation. But, as they say, when God closes a door he opens a window, and in Mary's mind, it was a window facing west.

Jackin' Jill took a close interest in the gradual shift of power. Pugsy was far too busy luxuriating in extravagance to notice it, and although Jill could have sown the seeds of his suspicion, she didn't. Pugsy's life before Mary's arrival had been one of decadent excess, but Mary's superior administrative abilities had made life better for all the Afterlights of Chicago—especially Pugsy. Even the leather armchair that served as his throne was gone, replaced by a gold embroidered settee that a pharaoh might have once used. It was a gift presented to him by Mary as a show of her loyalty to their partnership.

Mary had traded the finest baubles of her own collection for the settee, and yet she had given it away to Pugsy, claiming his armchair for herself. Jill found this very impressive, because she knew exactly what Mary was doing. Pugsy's comfort was worth any cost, because the more comfortable he was, the less he'd be looking in Mary's direction. Jill dreamed that the next partnership would be between her and Mary—that together they would become the most powerful force in Everlost.

On this particular day, Jill carried two fresh sleeping Interlights to the incubator, both thrown over her shoulder like a hunter's kills. The incubator wasn't kept under tight guard anymore. Mary had declared that all Afterlights should be able to see this glorious place, as if it were a hospital nursery. After depositing the sleeping Interlights, Jill went to tell Mary that the incubator was now brimming with almost a hundred and seventy hibernating souls. She found Mary in the
Hindenburg
's Starboard Promenade, talking to another Afterlight—but not just any Afterlight. This one was a handsome skinjacker. A skinjacker by the name of Milos.

Jill tried to hide her shock, but couldn't. She had left Milos and his two miserable cohorts at the hands of an angry mob, and had assumed the mob had sent them on a long, slow trip to the center of the earth. She should have realized that Milos would have found a way out of it. He was so smooth—
too
smooth. Even now he looked at Jill with the suave hint of a gloat, and a grin that hid what must have been hatred, for how could he not hate her after what she had done to him?

“Jill!” said Mary. “I'm glad you're here.” She was either oblivious or pretending to be. She was smooth too.

“He's a liar!” Jill blurted out. “Don't listen to a word Milos says. If you have any sense you'll get him off your ship right now!”

Mary showed no signs of heeding her. “What an odd thing to say—I thought you two were friends. At least that's what Milos said.”

Jill looked to Milos. The grin never left his face. “We parted under … uncertain circumstances,” he said. “But Jill, I must say, I am surprised by your … how do you say it? ‘Unprovoked hostility'.”

“Whatever happened between you and Milos, I'm sure you're sensible and mature enough to put it behind you,” Mary said. “Just as I've been able to admit how wrong I've been in my assessment of skinjackers, you should be able to resolve your differences. After all, we're all working for the greater good.”

Jill was truly speechless, but she tried to salvage the moment. She turned to Milos. “Milos, I'm sorry, let's start fresh.” She reached out to shake Milos's hand and he took it, clasping it a bit too hard, making it clear that bygones were not bygones, and that he would have his revenge. Jill squeezed his hand just as hard. Let him try to get back at her. Let him try!

“I really have missed you, Milos. How've you been?”

“Oh, Moose, Squirrel, and I have had some fine adventures, but now we're here. We must spend some time catching up.”

Jill glanced to Mary. If she picked up the tension
between Jill and Milos, she didn't care. Or perhaps the tension suited her needs.

“Now, then,” said Mary, “I've been bringing Milos up to speed on your amulet, and how you've been using it to rescue children from the light. We now have four skinjackers instead of just one—isn't that splendid? It's been amazing all the things you've been able to accomplish all by yourself, Jill—think of how much more effective you'll be as a team!”

“I can only imagine,” said Milos.

If Jill had a stomach, she would have been sick to it.

For Milos, finding Jackin' Jill was nothing compared to finding Mary Hightower. The fact that Jill was unable to ruin things for him was a good sign, and boded well for his future. If success was the best revenge, then his success with Mary would be sweet indeed—and a very bitter pill for Jackin' Jill, who had used him and discarded him.

Moose and Squirrel were still off paying tribute to Pugsy Capone, giving Milos time to follow Jill to the incubator, once his first audience with Mary was done. “I wanted to see your new scam with my own eyes,” he told her the moment he knew they were alone. He looked out over the sleeping Interlights. “You've been busy.”

“This is no scam,” said Jill, practically spewing venom. “And whatever you think you're doing here, it's not going to happen. You'd better leave now if you know what's good for you.”

Milos was not troubled in the least. Her threat was empty. He sauntered closer to her, then suddenly thrust his
hand forward, grabbing the amulet, pulling it toward him. The chain didn't break, and instead it pulled Jill right to him, by the neck.

“Let go of me!” demanded Jill.

“I remember when I gave you this necklace,” he said. “I traded a whole box of Twinkies for it. Do you know what those Twinkies were worth?”

“I said let go!”

This time Milos did, and Jill took a healthy step back from him.

“Does Mary know that your ‘magical amulet' is nothing more than blue glass on a fake gold chain?”

Now Jill began to look scared. “Are you going to tell her?”

Milos chose to ignore the question. “What I want to know is how you do it. You obviously cannot see the future, so then how do you know when these deadly accidents will occur?”

Jill looked at him with fuming hatred. “Figure it out for yourself.”

“Oh,” said Milos, “but I already have.”

The hatred in Jill's eyes peaked into desperation, and finally faded to defeat. “What do you want, Milos?”

Good,
thought Milos.
Now for the bargain.
Few things were more rewarding than blackmailing a criminal. “I will keep your secret,” Milos told her, “and in return, you will step back, and allow me to take first position among Mary's skinjackers.”

“Mary chooses who she puts in charge.”

“Mary will choose me,” Milos said with confidence.
“And when she does, you will support it, and accept my leadership.” Then he smiled. “Just like old times.”

“And if I don't?”

“Then I will tell Mary exactly how you find all these ‘new arrivals.'”

Jill looked away, her lips pursing into an angry slit. “Fine. But don't expect me to follow your orders,” she said, but Milos knew she would.

Milos left Jill to stew in her own afterglow, returning immediately to Mary, who wanted to brief him on the state of affairs in Chicago. At first she was guarded, but Milos could sense she needed someone to talk to—a new and sympathetic ear. And so he listened, and found everything she had to say fascinating. Perhaps she sensed that, because soon she opened up, sharing things beyond her dealings in Chicago. As stiff as she was, she seemed to relax just the slightest bit.

“It's good to have someone to talk to about these things,” she said. “Someone with whom I can see eye to eye.”

Milos looked around the Promenade. It said so much about Mary. It was pristine, and spotless. It was full of works of art and furniture that were clearly added by her. The place was as elegant and evolved as Mary herself. There was also a sizeable collection of books in the Promenade. Not just the ones Mary had written, but dozens of others that Mary had acquired. One of those books was out, and sitting on Mary's chair. Milos picked it up, curious. It featured a picture of a suspension bridge under construction. The title was
A History of Civil Engineering.

“A hobby of yours?” he asked.

Mary took the book from him and set it down. “Every book has something to teach us,” she said, “and crucial knowledge at the right time can be a very powerful thing. “Mary gestured for Milos to sit, and so he did, stretching out comfortably on a plush sofa. Mary sat across from him. “Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to know a little bit about your travels.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Your friend Moose mentioned that you had an encounter with Allie the Outcast. I would very much like to know about it.”

“Allie is of no concern,” he told her. “When I last saw her, she was on her way home. It is a serious thing when a skinjacker goes home—you will be the last thing on her mind. Trust me, she is no threat.”

Mary shifted her shoulders, the suggestion unnerving her. “Did I say she was a threat?”

“No,” admitted Milos, “but she is a friend of the Chocolate Ogre. And he
is
a threat, yes?”

Mary leaned forward, a little too interested. “Did she say anything about him? Anything at all?”

Milos shrugged. “A bit. Very little. She had not seen him for years—since the day on the pier. I understand you were there too.”

“I hope you realize that the Ogre must be stopped.”

“From doing what?”

“From doing
anything
! He must be brought to justice!”

“And you,” asked Milos, “are the judge?”

And then she quoted from one of her own writings. “In
a lawless world, we must illuminate truth with our glow, and create justice by the convictions of our souls.”

“So then, you
are
his judge.”

“I have seen firsthand the acts of cruelty he's capable of,” Mary said. “He sent hundreds of helpless children into the light. He'd send us all there if he had his way.”

Milos found he could read her just as easily as one of her books. At least when it came to the subject of the Chocolate Ogre. He tried not to smile as he spoke. “Does he know you're in love with him?”

She snapped him a burning glare, as if the question itself was an attack. “I see you've been listening to smears made against me. Probably from Allie the Outcast.”

Milos knew he had to play this very, very carefully. “No, it was only a guess. But believe me,” he said earnestly, “I know what it's like to love someone who has betrayed you. And I know how hard it is to move on. But in the end, we must.”

They held each other's gazes, and what wasn't spoken at that moment was more important than anything else that was.

Mary was the first to break the gaze. Her eyes drifted to the book sitting on the table beside her. The engineering textbook. She picked it up, and pondered it, rubbing her hand across the surface as if it might sprout forth a genie.

“I will be needing the services of skinjackers, for various missions.
Important
missions. I'll need someone I can trust in charge.”

“In that case,” said Milos, “I hope I can be of service.”

* * *

It was long after dark when he left that night, after hours in Mary's company. There was no question he was dazzled by her. Mary was everything Milos imagined she might be. She had Jill's shrewdness, without the sociopathic streak. She had Allie's high moral integrity, without the naivety that kept Allie devoted to that miserable Mikey McGill. Milos knew his weakness was that he fell in love too easily, which blinded him to the character flaws of the girls he fell for— but finally here was a girl worthy of his attention!