The Violet Hour (16 page)

STANDING ALONE

The dull roar of the crowd and the popping of the paparazzi’s flashbulbs overwhelmed me. So this was where the crowd was. I stepped onto the upper pavilion of the Gate of Heavenly Peace. The massive balcony stretched the full length of the imposing structure, looming out over Tiananmen Square. It was once used by ancient Chinese emperors to survey their troops, assembled below. Today there was an assemblage of reporters. Separated from the rest of the crowd by barricades, they circled like hungry hyenas, howling for scraps of flesh. The rest of the square was filled with wall-to-wall believers. VisionCrest followers must have traveled from all over China to get a glimpse of the Patriarch, and, more importantly, the freedom of belief he represented.

Dora, Stubin, and Adam stood awkwardly behind me, flanked by Watchers. They looked as shell-shocked as I felt, any traces of enthusiasm wiped away. Directly to my left, Sacristan Wang stood with Madam Wang and Mei Mei—it was the privilege of the hosting Sacristan to announce the Patriarch. Beyond him stretched a line of Prelates and Sacristans from all over the world, Mercy’s father among them. Many of them met my eye and nodded respectfully; some of them looked at me quizzically, no doubt wondering why my father had not appeared with me; a few of them acted as if I weren’t there at all. I knew those were the traitors, too ashamed to look me in the eye. To our right was a vast assembly of Chinese dignitaries; being allied with VisionCrest was a major deposit in the bank of political capital. Interspersed throughout were Watchers, every one of them with an assault rifle cradled in his arms.

“Harlow, where’s the General?” Dora whispered, her voice shaking.

We had been friends too long for her not to see the worry in my eyes or the determined set of my jaw. I reached my hand out behind me and she slipped her palm into mine. I squeezed it as reassuringly as I could.

“Everything’s Swizzle Stick. Just stick close to me and I’ll explain later,” I answered.

I watched the teeming crowd below, wondering how Mei Mei was ever going to get us out of here. Even if we made it past the Watchers, and that was a stretch, there was no way we would make it through a hundred thousand people unobstructed.

Sacristan Wang stepped up to the microphone in front of him. He shot me a glare of calculated confidence.

“Attention! Attention! It is my duty and privilege to
welcome you, True Believers of the VisionCrest Fellowship, worshipers of the Inner Eye, to this most historic of events. As your Sacristan and humble servant, I invite you to receive the tidings of the day with an open heart.”

The words boomed out over the crowd. Little beads of sweat were forming at the Sacristan’s hairline as he worked himself into a melodramatic frenzy. I noticed that the Ministry delegates who were not part of Wang’s traitorous circle were eyeing each other nervously, vaguely aware of a loose cannon in their midst and no doubt wondering how he dared get things underway before the Patriarch arrived.

“Look upon the revelations with the infinite wisdom of the Inner Eye, which resides within each of you until the day She comes to walk among us and give us the infinite grace of everlasting life.”

There was a collective gasp from the crowd below at Wang’s use of the female pronoun. Wang got visibly flustered at this, but stumbled through to the end of his ridiculous speech. The Ministry members on the balcony began to murmur to one another, or else began to sweat as well. It occurred to me that Wang’s alliance wasn’t as solid as he supposed; the shadiest among the Ministry looked ready to deny the whole thing at the first sign of trouble.

“And so, with that, I introduce to you the daughter of the Patriarch, Sister Harlow Wintergreen, who will make a monumental announcement of vital importance to the Fellowship.” Wang’s stumpy arm swept out to the side.

The crowd broke into reluctant applause, clearly confused as to why the first daughter of the Fellowship would speak in her father’s place. For all the hundreds of press conferences I’d attended as a showpiece, never once had I spoken in public. I looked out over the endless sea of bodies below, their upturned faces looking to me for guidance. It struck me hard, in that moment—these people were counting on me. This wasn’t about me, or Adam, or Dora, or even my father. This was about them; if I failed, they would lose every bit as much as I would. What I was about to do was contrary to the foundational tenets of VisionCrest.

“Hello,” I said. My words echoed across the square as I spoke into the microphone in front of me. “It’s so humbling to see all of you here. Thank you for coming to support the Patriarch and the Fellowship. You are our family.”

The silence was deafening. I swallowed hard and continued on.

“We are embarking on dark days. Days that will test our faith, days that will call upon each of us to sacrifice. I stand before you bearing a message from the Patriarch.”

A restless wave rolled through the crowd. I glanced sideways at Sacristan Wang, who was already tugging the hem of his jacket straight and puffing himself up like a peacock, ready to take the reigns of the organization. I glanced briefly over the heads of the Ministry to see a phalanx of Watchers trying to push their way onto the balcony. Madam Wang caught my eye. She tilted her head ever so slightly, telling me to look to my right. I noticed Mei Mei had slipped away from her parents and was now standing next to a small cluster of Watchers among the political dignitaries. It suddenly hit me that the Watchers on the balcony with us were part of the Resistance—loyal to Madam Wang. The Watchers trying to push their way in no doubt were not. I took a deep breath. There was no turning back now.

“The Patriarch has passed into the endless peace of the Inner Eye and named me as his successor,” I declared. “You should know that there are traitors here today—Sacristan Wang chief among them. He is my father’s murderer and is plotting to take the Fellowship for his own. The proof of this lies in the basement of his own home, where he is housing a laboratory. VisionCrest abductees—”

The entire square, which had seemed to collapse under the news of the Patriarch’s death, erupted in complete chaos one beat later at the contradiction of it all. I was just barely an initiate to the first mystery, so I couldn’t technically be named as my father’s successor. And yet the Patriarch was infallible, so if he had named me, there must be a way to make it legitimate. The masses churned in grief and confusion, stumbling over each other at a loss for what to do. I could see that I wasn’t going to get a chance to provide the damning litany of Wang’s transgressions. The situation was devolving.

Sensing an opportunity to prevent me from saying anything more, Wang flew at me, his sausage lip curled into a furious sneer. Adam pulled me back and Wang just missed me, his hands instead closing around Stubin. He spun Stubin around and clutched him to his chest, as though he planned to use him as a human shield. The sun caught the edge of something shiny in Wang’s hand and my stomach dropped out from beneath me. He was holding a knife. Stubin looked back at us, wild-eyed.

“Help me,” he said feebly, putting his hands up to Wang’s arm, which held him in a chokehold.

Dora screamed, trying to launch herself at Wang. Adam stopped her. The Watchers who were struggling to fight their way onto the mezzanine broke through the crowd and began threading their way toward us. Ministry members either ran for the door or stood frozen in stunned disbelief. Someone tugged at my hand, and I looked down to see Mei Mei. She motioned hurriedly for me to follow her, then jutted her chin toward the advancing Watchers. Several of them had zeroed in on me—they would be here within moments, and they did not look friendly. I looked up at Adam.

“Get Dora out of here. Follow Mei Mei,” I told him.

“I’m not leaving you here,” he said.

“
We’re not leaving Stubin,” Dora said to me, her words panicked.

“Sister Wintergreen, this blood is on your hands. I offer this boy as a sacrifice to Isiris. There will be a million more like him, as payment for your betrayal,” Sacristan Wang said.

Dora let loose a scream so primal it didn’t sound human. Without even thinking, I ran at Wang, closing my hand over the knife in his hand and feeling the sharp sting of it as it sliced against my palm. Dora flew in and bit down on his arm as hard as she could. Wang let out a squeal of pain, releasing
Stubin but pivoting to turn the weapon on me. He came directly at me, and I was sure it was the end. All I could see was the flash of sunlight on metal.

Then Adam barreled into Wang’s side, out of nowhere. He hit him so hard that he picked him up off his feet and sent him tumbling over the edge of the balcony. Wang caught the rail and held on with one hand, dangling precariously stories above the crowd.

Adam and I looked at each other, paralyzed for a moment. Then I noticed Wang’s Watchers seizing the remaining Ministry members and Madam Wang. They were only steps away from us. Madam Wang looked at me as the brute who had her by the arm homed in on an even better target. Me.

She mouthed one word:
Run.

We ran—with Mei Mei and four Watchers who were loyal to Madam Wang and the Resistance—down a back staircase, while another contingent of Watchers stayed on the mezzanine to fight off Wang’s dogs. Our side was outnumbered by Wang’s, ten to one; our head start was going to be a small one. One of our Watchers was carrying tiny Mei Mei in his arms as we made it to the ground floor and hustled back into the Forbidden City. There was no way we would be able to escape through the crowd outside the Gate of Heavenly Peace—even though it would provide great cover, people would recognize me immediately and we would be mobbed by grieving Fellowship members wishing to kiss the hand of VisionCrest’s new leader. One of the Watchers held his hand up to his earpiece.

“This way, Sister Wintergreen! There’s a car waiting at the side gate, the one past the Gate of Prosperous Harmony,” he yelled, breaking right.

My hand was sluicing a blood-offering onto the stones of the Forbidden City.

“You’re going the wrong way! The Gate of Prosperous Harmony is over there!” Adam screamed, pointing to a squat red gateway on our left that had a gold-tile roof with tiny ceramic animals lining its center.

“I’m in charge here. We go right,” the Watcher said, ignoring him.

“Stop!” I yelled. Everyone froze.

“Adam, are you sure?” I asked. I hated having to rely on him, but he clearly knew a lot about this place.

“Sister Wintergreen, with all due—” the Watcher started.

I looked at him, hard. “Actually, I’m the one who’s in charge here. Adam?”

“I swear on my life that’s it on the left,” he said.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather swear on mine?” I asked. He winced.

I looked at the group, everyone panting and waiting for me to make a call.

“We go left. Come on,” I said, and started running toward the gate. I refused to look behind me but I could hear the rhythmic thud of boots on stone across the plaza. The head start was over; our pursuers were closing in.

The path to the Gate of Prosperous Harmony sloped upward, forming a kind of waterless bridge. We were at a full-out sprint, Adam leading the way as we passed through the gateway and down the other side, descending into a lush green garden with winding walks. All but one of the Watchers, the man carrying Mei Mei, fell back to hold off the coming attack.

Stubin was breathing in horrible wheezing puffs, his pace slowing. I could see the wall of the Forbidden City ahead of us, less than a hundred yards. When I looked over my shoulder, a battalion of Watchers crested the rise of the Gate of Prosperous Harmony. Stubin came to a halt, doubling over and going into an all-out asthma attack. Dora stood with her hand on his back, panic written on her face.

“He can’t breathe,” Dora yelled. “He forgot his inhaler—he told me in the car this morning.”

Without hesitating, Adam shot back to Stubin and threw him over his shoulder, beginning to run toward the outer gate but lumbering under Stubin’s weight.

“Take Dora and go ahead! Don’t wait for us!” Adam yelled.

Dora shook her head no, but the sight of enemy Watchers running toward us made me grab her hand and force her to run. “Adam’s got him. We have to get out of here or we’ll all end up like Mercy,” I told her. Incredibly, she began to run again.

When we reached the outer gate, our Watcher was holding open a small door, Mei Mei still perched in his arms. We ran out and down the pathway, over the medieval moat that surrounded the red walls of the Forbidden City. There were beat-up cars, scooters, and rickshaws zooming by on the busy thoroughfare. Regular life was carrying on as if nothing unusual were happening. Parked on the sidewalk was a run-down coupe with its battered doors flung open—our escape vehicle. It looked like the million other cars that were whizzing by: ancient and nondescript.

As I reached the car I looked back, just in time to see Adam stumble through the gate. The Watcher whispered something in Mei Mei’s ear and then set her on the ground, facing her in the direction of the car. Alongside Adam, she ran in a straight line toward us.

The Watcher, whose name I didn’t even know, met my eyes. He tilted his head and briefly genuflected, one knee brushing the ground. Then he pulled out a pistol from the holster at his hip, turned, and shut himself inside the Forbidden City. He was sacrificing his life to save ours.

It felt like the axis of the earth moved underneath me. People were going to die for me.

Dora and I squeezed into the front seat together next to the driver, a thin, middle-aged Chinese man who simply nodded at me sedately. The minute it took for Adam, Stubin, and Mei Mei to reach us felt like an eternity. Sweat rolled down Adam’s face as he finally put a hyperventilating Stubin down and helped him into the car.

“Hurry!” I said, knowing that any minute the door to the Forbidden City would open. The Watchers would certainly open fire, at the very least to shoot out the tires so we couldn’t get away. If this fell through, there was no chance we’d all be able to escape on foot. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone being left behind.