The Metropolitans Page 23

  “Ah,” he said, his voice deep and echoing under the mask, “I see the book has given you brute strength, but that won’t be enough to save everyone. What shall it be, Walt? Should I pour this one in the boiler?” He shook the open canister in his right hand. “Or should I pour out this one . . .” he reached into the satchel and took out a second canister with his left hand. “. . . and kill you and your friends right now? The decision is yours. Save yourself and your friends and know that thousands died because of your selfishness, or sacrifice your friends to save the many and die with them.”

  Walt stared from one hand to the other. Mordred’s arms seemed to have grown longer, as if he had willed his bones to stretch like rubber tentacles, his fingers splayed out around the two canisters like giant spiders. Could Walt stop both arms at once? And if he couldn’t, which should he choose?

  For a moment Walt didn’t feel strong at all. He felt like he had when he had hidden in the wardrobe while the soldiers came to take Jacob Goldblatt’s father away. He had wanted to call out—to do something—but he had known he would endanger his own family. It hadn’t been fair having to make a choice like that when he was only a kid. And it wasn’t fair now. How could he ever live with either choice?

  You won’t be able to, the voice inside his head said. No matter how you choose, you will suffer with that choice for the rest of your life. Believe me, I know.

  And then he knew what he had to do. He launched himself at Mordred, flying through the air like a rocket aimed right at the middle of Mordred’s chest. When he hit, he snatched the open canister out of Mordred’s hand and rolled it up in his jacket in one swift move, while grabbing hold of Mordred. Mordred dropped the closed canister and reached for the one in Walt’s jacket, but Walt couldn’t let him get it.

  “Madge!” he cried, spying her on the platform below. “Catch!”

  He yanked the sleeves tight on the bundle, said a prayer that it would hold, and lobbed it to Madge. Then, without waiting to see if she caught it, he tightened his hold on Mordred and rolled them both off the edge of the catwalk. I should’ve wished for flying powers, Walt had just time enough to think before they both plummeted to the floor ten stories below.

  31

  THE END OF THE TAIL

  MADGE SAW THE bundle flying at her and put up her hands the way Frankie had taught to catch a fly ball when they were playing sandlot baseball. She pretended it was a baseball she was catching, not a canister of poison. The bundle rattled in her hands when she caught it, but Walt’s jacket kept all the pellets in.

  “I got it!” she cried, looking up to see Walt’s expression. Instead she watched in horror as Walt and Mordred plummeted to the steam-plant floor. There was an awful thud as they landed. She could see Walt’s back. At least he had landed on top. Maybe Mordred had broken his fall. She wanted to run to him, but she was still clutching the canister of poison, and Kiku had only regained consciousness in time to see Walt fall.

  “Is she okay?” Joe asked anxiously.

  “I’m fine!” Kiku shouted at him. “Go help Walt. Madge will help me!”

  “Golly, Kiku,” Madge said as she helped her up, “I didn’t know you had such a set of lungs on you!” Kiku leaned heavily on her as they made their way down the stairs with Madge keeping the bundle tucked under her arm, and saying a Hail Mary in her head and promising God that she would go back to church if Walt was alive. Just let him be alive! she said over and over again in her head for what felt like an endless descent. When they reached the ground, Kiku took the bundle from her and gave her a little push.

  “I’ll take care of this,” Kiku said. “Go to him.”

  Madge ran on ahead. Joe was leaning over Walt, his hand on Walt’s neck.

  “Is he . . . ?” She was unable to say the words alive or dead.

  “I don’t know!” Joe cried. He rolled Walt over. His face was a ghastly white and splattered with blood. But was it his blood or Mordred’s, a pool of which was spreading out from his broken body? At least he was dead, but would he stay dead? And what did that matter if Walt was gone, too?

  “Why did he have to do it?” Madge wailed.

  “It was the only way to stop Mordred,” Joe said, easing Walt’s body off the broken, bloody mess that had been Mordred. Only the horrible gas mask was whole. “He couldn’t choose between us and the city. So he sacrificed himself.”

  “No!” Madge cried, taking out her handkerchief and wiping the blood off Walt’s face. “That’s not fair! It’s not supposed to be like that. We’re in this together! Do you hear that, Walter Rosenberg?” She put her hands on his shoulders and shook him until his head fell limply to one side. “You don’t get to play the hero and leave us behind.”

  Then tears were streaming down her face, dripping onto Walt’s. She bowed her head and rested her forehead on Walt’s chest and sobbed for the first time since her mother had died. She didn’t care who saw her; she cried into Walt’s chest even as she heard footsteps hurrying across the plant floor and men’s voices shouting “FBI!” and “Stand down!” She didn’t care even when she heard them telling Joe and Kiku that they were heroes. That they’d stopped the mastermind behind the sabotage plot and that the FBI had rounded up the other saboteurs before they were able to hurt anyone. What did any of that matter if Walt wasn’t here to see it?

  It didn’t matter to Joe or Kiku either. They sat on either side of Madge, their arms around her shoulders. She could feel the warmth from their arms coursing through her back, into her chest, and down into her hands, which still gripped Walt’s shoulders, pooling at a point in her forehead which still rested on Walt’s chest—

  Where she felt something go thump. She sat up and stared at Walt’s face. Had it been? It had felt like his heart beating—

  Then Walt’s eyes flickered open, and he was looking up into Madge’s face.

  “Madge, why are you crying? Did we fail?”

  “No, sport,” Joe answered, because Madge couldn’t speak. “You did it. You stopped Mordred before he could put the poison in the boiler. The FBI caught the other saboteurs. You saved the city!”

  Walt sat up and blinked at them. He looked at Mordred’s mangled body and then at the FBI men who were spread out, scouring the plant for evidence. They had retrieved the two poison canisters and were talking to the foreman and the guard. “The last thing I remember was flying through the air—” He stared back at Mordred’s body. “Why aren’t I dead?”

  “Because—” Kiku began, but before she could answer, a horrible shriek cut her off.

  “Let me in! Let me in!” someone was shouting. “He’s my son!”

  “It’s Miss Fishbone,” Madge said as the woman came running across the steam plant.

  “My son! My son!” she cried, kneeling beside Mordred and clasping his limp head to her chest. Then, looking up, the light flashing off her glasses, she spat, “What have you done to him?”

  Madge stared at her, not sure what surprised her more, that Miss Fishbone had feelings or that anyone had loved Mordred. But then she remembered something her mother used to say: Everybody was somebody’s beloved child once.

  “He was going to kill innocent people, Miss Fish—Fitzbane. We had to save the city.”

  “Innocent people?” Miss Fitzbane hissed, spit flying out of her mouth. “No one’s innocent here, little girl. And we’ll see about your precious city!”

  She got up and stalked across the floor, hips twitching, heading toward the back of the plant.

  “Hey, what do you think she means?” Walt asked.

  “Maybe we should tell the FBI men that she made a threat against the city,” Kiku said.

  “There’s no time,” Joe said. “She’s heading for the loading docks. I think we’d better follow her—that is, if you’re feeling up to it.” Joe slapped Walt on the back.

  “Never felt better,” Walt said, springing to his feet
. “Let’s go see what she’s up to.”

  “Yeah,” Madge said, getting to her feet. “Although I can’t imagine an old dame like Miss Fishbone doing much harm.”

  “She’s not just an old woman,” Kiku said as they followed her out onto the loading docks. “Remember she’s Belisent, a—”

  “Witch?” Miss Fitzbane turned from the edge of the loading dock. The wind off the East River was tugging at her skirt. “Yes,” she hissed, baring her yellow teeth. “A more powerful witch than dear sweet Vivian or little Morgaine.” She took off her glasses and tossed them into the river. Her eyes bulged and shone like yellow lamps.

  “And neither Vivian nor Morgaine can do this.” She touched the brooch on her lapel. Does she mean to jab us to death with that ugly brooch? Madge wondered. But then she noticed that Miss Fishbone’s long skinny body was getting taller, like a piece of saltwater taffy being pulled out on a taffy hook, and her skirt was shaking like Minnie the Moocher doing the hootchy-kootchy.

  “What the heck!” Walt said.

  “There’s something under there!” Madge said, taking a step closer.

  “It looks like a—”

  “Tail!” Madge shrieked. A long scaled tail whipped out from under Fishbone’s skirt and reared up in front of Madge’s face.

  At the end of the tail was a human head with a woman’s face on it—Miss Fitzbane’s face, but with a mouth yawning open with three sets of teeth and a long forked tongue. “What’s the matter, Miss McGrorrr-ry?” The awful head rolled the rs around her long forked tongue like they were appetizers. “Cat got your tongue?” Then the head lunged at Madge, mouth gaping wide, teeth gnashing. Walt pulled Madge back just as the teeth grazed Madge’s scalp. She could smell burning hair. The tail lashed back and the two horrible heads laughed in unison. The bigger one was now elongated, with the snout of a serpent and sulfurous burning eyes. Green scales were popping out from her skin. Where Miss Fitzbane’s arms had been, leathery wings unfurled and beat the air. The kids had to press themselves back against the loading-dock wall to keep from being flayed by their razor-sharp edges. Miss Fitzbane had grown into a huge monster, into a—

  “She’s an amphisbaena!” Kiku said. “Like the one on her pin!”

  “Always the clever one, little sister,” Miss Fitzbane said. It was the head at the end of the tail that spoke. “But you won’t be clever enough to stop me from destroying the spirit of this city.”

  The tail lashed again and the head nipped the beast’s side. The amphisbaena let out a horrible roar and sprayed the dock with sulfurous flames. Then it sprang from the dock and launched itself into the air, heading downriver, toward the harbor.

  32

  THE LADY OF THE HARBOR

  “WE HAVE TO stop her!” Walt cried, watching the horrible monster growing smaller and smaller as it flew away from them. It was heading downriver, to the harbor, which gave Walt an uneasy feeling. What was she planning to do there?

  “But how?” Madge asked. “The last time I checked, none of us could fly.”

  “No,” Kiku said, “but I can steer a boat. There!” She pointed to a small motorboat tied to the dock. She was already jumping into it. Joe followed her and reached out a hand to help Madge, but she leapt in past him, Walt following. As soon as they were all in, Kiku shouted for someone to untie them. Then she started the engine and steered out onto the river.

  “How do you know how to drive a boat?” Madge asked, impressed.

  “My father likes to go fishing out in Montauk. I’ve watched him lots of times.”

  “Watched him?” Walt repeated as Kiku narrowly avoided a fishing boat. He wished he knew how to steer a boat, but he had spent the whole voyage over from England seasick.

  As they approached the harbor, there were more boats on the water. It was full of merchant ships and naval vessels and cruise ships that had been reoutfitted to carry troops, all preparing to sail to Europe. That’s why New York’s so important to the war effort, Walt’s cousin Ralph had said three nights ago. We’ve got the best harbor on the Eastern Seaboard. All the boys I know are shipping outta here.

  Kiku had to maneuver around the other boats to keep Belisent in sight. She was so high in the air, she could have been an airplane or a child’s kite. Once or twice it looked like she was going to dive-bomb one of the ships, but at the last minute she would swerve out of the way and climb back into the sky.

  “It looks like she’s trying to choose which one to attack,” Walt said. Belisent had boasted she would destroy the spirit of the city. Would scuttling one ship do that? What if it was one of the cruise ships carrying thousands of soldiers to England? Or one of the ferries packed with families and schoolchildren? Walt could see the passengers on one ferry shouting and pointing at the strange creature, the pilot shouting and shaking his fist at it. What must they think? Walt wondered as the ferry continued on its way to—

  Walt stared ahead, his mouth opening in horror. For a moment he was two years younger, steaming into the harbor for the first time. He was so weak from seasickness and the measles that he could barely stand, but his uncle Sol had helped him out onto the deck so he wouldn’t miss his first view of the city.

  “Look at her,” Uncle Sol had said, “the greatest city in the world. They even put a lady out in the harbor to welcome you.”

  And Walt, burning with fever and the shame of leaving his parents behind, had looked up into the eyes of the woman rising out of the harbor and had known for the first time that things might be okay. That this was a place where people came to start over. This was the spirit of the city.

  “I know where she’s heading!” Walt shouted, pointing to the towering figure that stood guard at the mouth of the harbor. “She’s going to destroy the Statue of Liberty! We have to stop her!”

  But as if she knew the game was up, Belisent was already winging straight toward the statue. “But how can she destroy it?” Kiku asked.

  “I don’t know,” Walt admitted, “and I don’t want to find out. Look—there’s a space next to where the ferry’s docking. Can you pull up there?”

  Kiku steered the boat toward the dock and threw Walt a rope to tie them up. No one on the ferry noticed them, because they were all looking up at the sky.

  “I bet it’s a German zeppelin disguised to look like a dragon,” a schoolteacher told his class.

  “Maybe it’s a publicity stunt for a new movie,” a pretty girl in a fur coat said.

  “Sheesh,” Madge said. “Why can’t people believe what’s right in front of their noses?”

  “Yeah,” Joe remarked. “It’s almost like they think two-headed dragons are malarkey.”

  Madge stuck out her tongue at Joe. Kiku shook her head and said, “Sometimes we don’t see what’s in front of us because we’re trying too hard to make it fit into what we already know. It’s easier to believe in zeppelins and movie stunts than—”

  Suddenly the amphisbaena swooped down on the people waiting on line to get inside the statue, spewing flames from its gaping jaws. A woman’s hat caught on fire. A troop of schoolgirls screamed and ran for shelter on the ferry, where the passengers were all crowding inside the cabin. The creature followed them and landed on top of the ferry and started rocking it back and forth.

  “We have to stop her!” Walt screamed. He jumped onto the ferry and started to climb up to the roof. Joe and Madge and Kiku followed him, shouting for him to come back. But Walt was too angry to listen. When he got to the roof, he grabbed the creature’s swishing tail by its hair and yanked hard. The head at the end of the tail looked up at Walt and snarled.

  “They never should have sent chill-drun to do a grown-up’s job,” she spat. “You’ll die like the rest of your vermin kin!” Then the tail snapped back and forth fast and knocked Walt off the roof of the ferry and into the water.

  * * *

  Kiku watched Walt fall in the water. She wa
s going to help him, but then she saw Joe and Madge run to the edge of the dock and pull him out of the water. When she turned back, she found herself face-to-face with the horrible head at the end of the amphisbaena’s tail.

  “Hello, sister,” it hissed. “Nice to see you again.”

  “I’m not your sister,” Kiku said, but inside her head, she heard Morgaine’s voice. She is our sister, and that might be our best chance to stop her. Bargain with her.

  But what do I have to offer?

  Yourself.

  Kiku was about to say she didn’t understand, but Belisent was rearing back her head, about to strike. Below them, a group of schoolgirls in navy uniforms huddled together screaming and crying. Wait, Kiku thought, I recognize those uniforms!

  Her school, Spence, had chosen today for a field trip to the Statue of Liberty. One of the girls, Trina van der Hoek, was pointing toward Kiku and shouting something in another girl’s ear.

  “Ssssee,” Belisent hissed, “the common people don’t appreciate us. You don’t belong with them. You belong with me.”

  And then Kiku did understand. Belisent was lonely. For all these hundreds of years, she’d plotted her revenge on the descendents of Camelot because she’d been ousted from its gates. She pretended to hate everyone because it was too painful to admit she didn’t want to be alone anymore.

  “Yes,” Kiku said, looking into the monster’s yellow eyes. “We do belong together. I’ll go with you if you just leave my frien—these people—alone.”

  Belisent’s face hovered above her, swaying with the rocking of the boat and the swish of the monster’s tail. “It’s a trick,” she snarled, baring a mouthful of sharp teeth.