Lords of Trillium (16 page)

Fitspur cocked his head and began counting on his claws. “Well sir, let's see. I transport hundreds weekly. Mind you, many are repeat customers, and mind you again, many city rats have no need to travel, quite happy where they are, especially with my customers visiting them on a regular basis from all over our fine city. And this is not the only operation, to be sure. We've got one in the Reserve and another on the city outskirts. So, all in all, I'd say our ranks lie somewhere in the tens of thousands—give or take a thousand or two, of course.”

“Well . . . ,” said Juniper, somewhat speechless, “I'm embarrassed to say I had no idea there were so many of you.”

Chuckling, Fitspur whistled to a family of brown rats on the opposite curb, waving them to the front of the line. “Party for Brimstone Station, you're next!” He motioned to one of his assistants, who ushered them to a yellow cab, where they quickly disappeared into its undercarriage. “You groundlings live in your own world, oblivious to what goes on up here.” He grinned.

“How do you stand it, though? Topside couldn't be more dangerous.”

“And what's wrong with living dangerously?” said Fitspur, slapping Juniper on the back. “Keeps things interesting, if you ask me!” He nodded toward Billycan, who was explaining Fitspur's operation to the others. “That one used to come to me looking mad and disheveled. Saints only know what mischief he was up to—I didn't think it my business to ask. I just knew he was looking for others like him—his family. Why, sometimes he didn't even look like a rat, so wild he was.”

“Where did he go?” asked Juniper curiously.

Fitspur lowered his voice. “He always seemed to end up back where he came from. You know,
that
horrible place.”

“You mean . . . the lab?” whispered Juniper. “How did you know where it was?”

“I'm a city rat. We all knew where that horrible lab was.” He shook his head. “I'd send that lad off, letting him ride around for hours under whichever car he liked—always searching for something, though I don't think he ever quite knew what that was. When I'd see him the next time, ask him where he'd been, it was always somewhere near the lab. With the wretched life he had there, you'd think he'd want to stay as far away as possible, but I suppose it was all he knew back then . . . his only real home.”

“Yes,” said Juniper, thinking about the scientists' diaries
and what Silvius claimed—that
everything
centered around the volcano, hidden somewhere in the museum.

The gray female raced up to Fitspur and nodded. “All right, then,” he said, “your crew's next.” He clapped his paws. “Quickly, everyone, or Saints only know how long you'll be stuck here waiting for another car headed that way. The museum closes soon!”

Billycan darted over to Fitspur as the others crossed the street. “Thank you once again for your help.”

“I hope you find your friend,” said Fitspur. “I hope you find everything you've been searching for all these years.”

“I'll come back afterward and tell you all about it,” said Billycan.

“Of course you will,” said Fitspur, patting Billycan's shoulder. “Run along now, you'll miss your ride.”

Billycan smiled faintly and dashed after the others.

“All right, pay attention now!” shouted the gray rat forcefully over the ruckus of the garage. “Everyone, underneath! Some of you may have done this before, so just consider this a refresher course!” She pointed to the undercarriage of the cab. “All of you climb in, on either side. Jump on, grab hold, and whatever you do, don't let go. It's going to be a rough ride!” The rats leaped up into the undercarriage as instructed. She specifically looked at Duncan and Oleander, who seemed more out of their element than the others. She pointed to a rounded silver box stuck in the center area of the undercarriage and a long metal tube feeding out of it. “That is the cab's muffler. Whatever you do, do
not
touch it. It will burn you to a crisp.” Duncan grabbed his tail, pulling it as far away from the muffler's pipe as possible. “Do you all understand me?” Everyone nodded back at her. “Good. When the doors to the cab open, you're at your stop—Battery Park West at 79th. You can't miss the museum, biggest building in sight, showy statues in front.” The cab started to roll. “Remember, don't let go . . . and good luck!” She dashed back onto the curb and out of sight.

H
IS MIND AND HEART RACING
, Billycan closed his eyes and took a deep breath as the cab tore down the street. Returning home, the salty smell of the Hellgate Sea had exhilarated him, but being in Trillium, his old hunting grounds, was electrifying. He thought of all those months he'd searched for any surviving albinos, trying to find anyone who might be family, when all along the rat who'd saved him from the fire in the lab and led him to safety was actually his mother. His heart suddenly sank in his chest. His mother, Lenore, had offered to take care of him—to look out for him in the Catacombs, to help him control his urge for violence—but thinking it was hopeless, he abandoned her, stealing away into the dark as she screamed out his name. He glanced at Juniper, wondering how different his life might have been had he taken her up on her offer. Maybe his mother
could
have made a difference, despite the power of the toxic chemicals pumping through his veins. He swallowed stiffly, thinking of the alternative . . . maybe not.

Billycan craned his neck, trying to catch the buildings as they zoomed by, but all he could see was a blur of stone and neon. He could smell the pigeons, the alley cats, even a bat or two, but then it hit him—the overwhelming smell of cooked meat. Beef, to be exact. His eyes rolled back slightly. He was ravenous. He'd caught a whiff of the City Steakhouse, an establishment almost as rich in history as the museum itself. He used to scavenge its alley, tearing through the trash bins and Dumpsters for scraps of meat and strips of gluey fat. He shook his head, trying to not think of food. At least he knew they were close. Yes, he could smell them—the chestnut carts, the aroma still lingering even at this late hour. “Be ready to jump, everyone,” he called out over the drone of the engine. “We're here.”

“Now!” yelled Juniper.

In unison the rats dropped from the car and leaped onto the curb the moment the wheels stopped. Never had they been in such an exposed space. Even Juniper stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the wide sidewalk that led to the vast museum. Toward the back of the museum he saw a tall stack, smoke pouring out of it. “Juniper!” shouted Cole, snapping him from his daze. “Move!”

With Billycan in the lead, they darted from the sidewalk onto the grass, hoping to be lost in the dark sea of green as they raced away from the sound of human feet. The moon was full and bright, bright enough to see nine rats tearing through the grass.

“I remember now!” shouted Duncan as they grew nearer to the colossal stone columns. He blew ahead of the others, his memories driving him. “This way!”

Two large statues sat on either side of the stairs leading up to the entrance, stone sentries dressed in antiquated military
garb. Streaked a mossy green, each sentry waved his sword from atop a horse, its nostrils flared, ears back, ready to plunge into battle.

Duncan led them to the back of one of the statues. Panting, the rats gathered around, staring down through a metal grate at the base of the statue.

“Where does it lead?” asked Juniper.

Cringing a bit, knowing they would not like the answer, Duncan said, “It leads under the museum. That's how I got in the first time.”

“Duncan,” said Cole, “what are you
not
telling us?”

“Well, I . . . it's just that . . .”

Putting an ear to the grate, Juniper realized what Duncan was not telling them. “It leads to the sewer,” said Juniper, patting Duncan's shoulder. He sighed. This was the last thing they needed. Memories of the Great Flood haunted the older rats, and nightmares terrorized the younger ones—so much had been lost. But with the doors of the museum locked tight for the night, everyone must face their fears.

Suttor made a face and moaned. “I'd rather go back to the swamp with all its snakes and poison plants than down there in the murk.”

“Agreed,” said Juniper, “but it may be our only option.”

“Yes, it's how I found my way in the last time,” said Duncan. “I don't want to go down there any more than the rest of you, but there's no other way in that I know of, at least not that I could find back then.”

“If Victor got here before they closed, I'm sure he found a way inside,” said Vincent. He knew his brother was more of a risk taker than he was. If he saw a way in, he would have taken it. “Even if some Topsiders spotted him, what would they have done?”

“Ignored him,” said Suttor. “What's one lone pest slipping past them? Even if they did manage to alert someone at the museum, what would happen then? They're not going to waste time chasing after a rat loose in a place that size.”

“I just hope he made it here,” said Vincent.

Studying the hole in the grate, Billycan mentally sized up each rat. Duncan was by far the largest, but even he'd be able to squeeze through. “We don't have time to speculate.” He glanced at Vincent. “Your brother took on
Killdeer
. I'm sure he made it here and figured out a way inside. There's something to be said for sheer grit.”

Vincent studied Billycan's profile, finding it more than a little odd to agree with him on
anything
, but he spoke the truth. Whether it was justice for their dead family, a stolen moment with Petra, or now to find the lost Hunters, Victor was dogged when he wanted something.

Billycan looked over his shoulder at the faces of the Nightshade rats, each one consumed with dread of a watery doom. He had never feared water. “If Duncan can guide me, I'll take the lead,” he said, turning his attention back to the grate. He'd swum in the Hellgate Sea and was quite sure he could handle the city sewer. “The ghosts of the Great Flood may still haunt you, but we rats are natural-born swimmers. You'll see.”

As Juniper and Cole lined up the others, Vincent watched Billycan. A tremor traveled up the white rat's spine, causing his whole body to shudder. Billycan's mouth opened, baring his teeth. His eyes burst with color, their blood-red hue something Vincent had not seen since back in the swamp. Billycan turned back to the others, his eyes shifting back to the same muted red they'd been since he'd returned to Nightshade.

“It's all right!” Billycan shouted up to the others, his voice echoing against the sewer walls. Retching, he spat out a mouthful of dirty water. “Disgusting, but all right.”

He looked around, his eyes adjusting to the dark. It was a large cylindrical tunnel made of bricks. He paddled over to water's edge. By the looks of it, this was an older part of the city's sewer system, probably not used in some time. The water was stagnant, covered with dead insects and bits of floating trash. It was deep, but if they stayed along the side of the tunnel, they'd only get their feet and tails wet—once they dried off from the initial plunge through the grate, at any rate.