Paper Dolls (19 page)

“I’m not sure about Molly. Today might be enough for her.”

We returned above-deck. Parker was sitting beside Molly, pointing out various things about the yacht. She seemed interested.

“The parents are asking us all to dinner tonight,” Zach called to everyone.

Neither Molly nor I said anything.

“Let’s put it to a vote,” said Emerson. “All for going out to dinner, raise your hand.”

Zach, Emerson and Parker raised their hands.

“Okay, three against two.” Emerson said. “That’s as good as a yes.” He called his mother and made arrangements to meet them outside the restaurant.

Molly stepped tentatively from the cab. She wore a simple khaki-colored dress that looked like it was made for her. Not that Molly knew how great she looked. She eyed the upmarket restaurant with apprehension on her face.

I took her hand. “It’s just dinner. We’ll eat and then we’ll go.”

Taking a long breath, she nodded.

A cool breeze drifted in from Biscayne Bay. The restaurant stood at the apex of Brickell Key, a small, man-made island dotted with highrise condos.

Zach, Emerson and Parker strolled from the glass doors of the restaurant. Zach wore casual clothing, but you could tell it was expensive. It immediately made me feel less. Growing up in Miami, there was always that mix of the rich and the poor. Mom and I weren't exactly poor but we were so far away from being rich that the people in that world seemed from another planet. Mom had always taken lower-paying jobs to be able to help the families that needed help most.

"Hey beautiful,” said Zach as he noticed me.

“Wow,” said Parker appreciatively as he stepped over to take Molly by the arm. “You girls should really try to give other girls a break and not look this good.”

Molly gave an embarrassed laugh.

Mr. and Mrs. Batiste were already seated inside the restaurant. There was another couple around the same age sitting beside them—Mrs. Batiste introduced them as the Baldcotts—Parker’s parents. Viola sat next to her mother.

Mrs. Batiste patted Molly’s hand as she was introduced by Parker. “Oh how divine you are.”

Viola waved a hand at Molly. “The boys seem to be making a habit of picking up pretty girls wherever they go.”

We seated ourselves at the round table. Everyone broke their bread rolls and buttered them. For appetizers we had the choice of a Cobia Crudo with truffles or River Beluga. I’d never had caviar and thought now was not the time to try it. I had the sudden mental picture of myself throwing up at the dinner table.

“Can’t never remember which is the dessert fork and which is the appetizer fork,” said Parker, staring down at his utensils.

“That’s because you always eat and run, son,” scoffed his mother.

Neither Molly nor I needed to worry about knowing the order in which we were to use our cutlery—Jessamine had insisted upon proper use of cutlery, even when there were barely crumbs to eat. I chose the fork on the outside and speared a roasted olive.

Molly stared at her plate as though the food were a mirage and would disappear at any moment.

"Is anything wrong, dear?" asked Mrs. Batiste.

Molly shook her head. “No, it looks lovely.”

I knew she was going to find the expense and opulence of the food here at the restaurant difficult to deal with.

“How did you girls like your day out on the water? Did the boys behave?” Mr. Batiste ate a mouthful of caviar on a piece of thin, dry bread.

“It was fun. And yes the boys behaved—mostly.” I grinned.

The Batistes and the Baldcotts chortled.

Mrs. Batiste held a hand to her head as though she’d just remembered something. “The charity event on the Saturday after next. You and Molandah simply
must
come. It will be on at our home—it’s a masked ball. The boys would be lost without you girls there.”

I glanced at Molly. We were saved from saying anything by the procession of waiters who arrived with the main course—each plate a work of art. The food was amazingly good. Being out on the yacht today had given me a huge appetite.

My phone buzzed. I’d set it to vibrate rather than ring, though I needn’t have bothered. It seemed every second person at the tables was taking a call on their cell phones. Zach’s father alone had taken two calls during dinner.

I discreetly looked to see who had called. The caller ID was Aisha. She’d left a cryptic message:
I have news–call me!

For a moment I thought I’d call her back later, in private. The next I was wondering if she’d discovered something important about Henry or the mirrored tree.

“Would everyone excuse me? I need to answer a call.” I rose from the table.

Molly nodded at me to let me know it was okay, though it was obvious she was still uncomfortable sitting there with strangers.

A rush of cool, briny air met my face as the doors slid open. I side-stepped the noise of patrons talking loudly outside and found a quieter spot near some manicured shrubbery. Lights from the highrise buildings streaked across the rippling water. Beyond the shrubbery was Bricknell Key Park, spindly palm trees swaying darkly against the night sky.

Aisha squealed thinly as she answered my call. "I have the
best
news. I’m coming to the US as a present for my sixteenth!"

I thought back to when Aisha last had a birthday. It had been not long after school started. February twenty-sixth.

“Oh God!” I cried, “You’re coming in a few days!”

“Yep. Everything’s booked!”

“I can't wait for you to get here! We’ll have so much fun. Guess where I am right now?”

“Where?”

"Having dinner with Molly at a classy restaurant—with Zach and Emerson."

“Oh wow….”

Her words were tinged with something I couldn’t name. Was she jealous Molly and I had been out together with Emerson? Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it.

“Aish? Is everything okay?”

She hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. You sounded a little… different.”

“I’m just missing you guys. I’ll see you on the twenty-fifth.”

She ended the call before I had a chance to respond.

I dropped the phone back into my clutch and turned on my heel to return to the restaurant. A shadow moved in the recesses of the park. A man. He stepped so that the light above draped over him. He put the palms of his hands together as though he was about to pray, then slowly rotated his hands into a weird shape—like he was trying to make a fluttering butterfly.

My gaze blurred, fixed on his hands. My mind seemed to shift gears, move into a different place.

He gestured to me, waving me over to him.

I went to him, walked over to the park while my mind screamed at me.
Run. Turn around and run. Scream. Get out of here.

"Calliope,” he said.

"That's not my name."

I knew the voice behind the dark face.
Henry Fiveash
.

Why am I here talking with him? Run!

"I hope you enjoyed the dress I had sent to you."

“You’ve been following me? Why did you send that dress?” My teeth gritted together.

He straightened his collar. “I sent it to you as a reminder. So you don’t start to forget… because there’s so much we need to know. Your mental state was too delicate to start probing earlier, but you’re ready now.”

“I don’t understand. I will never forget the dollhouse. You don’t need to send reminders.”

“Oh, it wasn’t a reminder of
that
. It was a reminder of the dream state you entered when you wore the dress, specifically.”

“I’m leaving now.”

“Are you? I don’t think so. You’ll do exactly as I say. Dear Doctor Verena made sure of that.”

“Doctor Verena Symes?” My throat went dry.

He gave a cold imitation of a smile. “I hope she didn’t neglect to tell you she’s one of us. You submitted willingly to her hypnotism session—and now you’re mine for the picking.”

“Whatever it is you want from me, you won’t get.”

I can see you need some more persuasion.” Henry pulled a long blade from his pocket and twirled it so that it caught the light. “Come with me now or you won’t live to the end of this night. People will see you all bloody on the ground and just consider you the unfortunate victim of a mugger.”

“You think your knife scares me? After what you put me through in the underground?”

His face became ugly. “Walk with me.”

Powerless, I followed him deeper into the dark grounds of the park. He stopped and clutched my shoulder. “You weren’t meant to escape from the underground. None of you were.”

I stared at him defiantly. “I know you’re not the Henry from the Feast of Fools. That Henry is a ghost.”

He snorted derisively. "I'm the bastard great-grandson of a sixteen-year-old showgirl that the original Henry Fiveash knocked up. Now I need you to shut the hell up and tell me what I need to know.”

Wind crept up around us, blowing leaves into the air.

“Why did you keep all of us in the underground?” I demanded.

He laughed. "That's not for you to know."

He then spoke a deep flurry of words. The words seemed to come from a distance, seemed to be in another language.

Horror unique animos, simul ipsa silentia terrent.

I remembered then that Dr. Verena had spoken those same words.

Henry moved close to my face. “It’s from Virgil.
The horror and the silences terrified their souls.
When you hear it, you will go wherever you are told….” He held up the palm of his hand to me. “Go back into the day of the train. Go into the memories. You witnessed the train falling. See it.”

I was being sent backwards, dragged through great distances—even though my body didn’t move. All was black. No, not exactly black. I could see rays of sunlight glinting darkly.
How could I see sun?
The familiar nauseating sensation of being out of my body closed over me.

A statue rose before me, late afternoon sun sparking off its edges. The statue was set into a bare, stony hillside.

Beside me, a girl stared at the same statue. Blood gushed from her neck and shoulder. She was dying. A short distance from her, an old man groaned—crumpled like a discarded rag doll.

The girl and the man were Jessamine and Tobias. And I knew the statue. The statue was the same as the one from The Dark Way.

I looked backwards into the shadow of a high cliff. The twisted train wreckage snaked along the ground. Suitcases and belongings were strewn everywhere. Mangled bodies dotted the hill—some clinging to life but most still and unmoving. A woman lay tangled in a metal and wicker wheelchair—the wheels bent at impossible angles.

"What do you see?" Henry’s voice was insistent, urgent. I could hear him but not see him.

“I see terrible things.”

“Tell me who. Tell me what.”

With all that was within me, I wanted to resist telling Henry anything at all. But I was compelled to tell him what he asked.

"I see sunlight, deep afternoon sun. That time when a summer day is about to change into night. I see the far mountains. I see a train wreck. Suitcases everywhere. A lion limping into the hills. Death."

"Good. Good. Look closely at the people. Who do you see?"

"I see Jessamine… and Tobias."

“Now look on the ground—all around the old man. What do you see?”

“I see hoops…clown costumes…torn pieces of striped tent.”

“Do you see a book—a book near Tobias?”

“I don’t see a book.”

"Tobias took a delivery of a book that afternoon. I need you to find it. Look between the people, between the suitcases and the wreckage. You see, a bomb went off that day on the tracks—a bomb that was meant to stop the train and force the driver to return to the last station. There were people waiting to board the train there who would take the book from the old man—and the people guarding the book wouldn’t have been expecting that. But it went horribly, horribly wrong and the train ended up derailing….”

Henry’s breath was hot on my face. I scanned the ground up and down the mountainside. I saw a thin woman in a dark dress with her head half-cracked open. My dinner heaved in my stomach, bile reaching into my mouth. Near the woman were open suitcases with books spilling from them. I described the scene to Henry.

“No, that is Miss Kitty—Jessamine’s governess. I’m not interested in her books. The book I want is very old. Centuries-old. The cover would be leather, worn, cracked. The book may be inside a case.”

"I don't see anything like that."

"Go back to Tobias. What is happening?”

People… villagers… are there. They are tending to the cuts on Tobias and Jessamine, stopping the bleeding.”

"Who?" He grabbed my wrist. "Tell me who?"

"Two men… two women… a child. The child is crying and afraid."

“Do any of them take anything from Tobias?”

“No. They take nothing.”

He released his hold. “What’s happening now?”

“The men carry Tobias. The women carry Jessamine. They are taking them to a line of animals. Mules. Tobias and Jessamine are being carried on the backs of the mules.”

“So that’s how they were taken out of the valley. Keep watching. Where do they take them?”

The long line of mules picked their way through the rock-strewn floor of the valley. The mules traveled along the edge of some kind of man-made river system, perhaps an aquaduct. I saw the name of the town they entered—Batopilas. Bougainvilleas covered brightly-painted buildings. Barefoot children ran alongside the mules, but didn’t notice the blanket-covered figures lying on the two mules at the back of the line.

The last strains of sunset glinted from the stucco of an old church. The mules were led away to feed and water, save for two, which taken deeper into the mountains. A modest house made of stone stood at the side of a dirt road. Night fell as they entered the cottage.

"Where do they take them?" Henry said impatiently.

"To their home."

"Where is their home. Describe the location, what the house looks like.”