The Empress's Tomb (18 page)

“I finished upstairs. Go do the ground floor.” A quick scratch and a single flame lit a ghostly face. Kiki Strike held her match to one of the candles and then used it to light the others.

“Maybe
you
prefer to dine in the dark, but I like to see what I'm not eating,” she said, sitting down in front of her untouched plate.

“Excuse me,” I mumbled, rising from the table and practically running for the door.

•     •     •

Outside the dining room, I took a tiny crystal bottle from my pocket and refreshed my Fille Fiable just as a large hand gripped my shoulder.

“Allow me to show you to the powder room,” the butler droned in a deep, flat voice.

“Thanks, but I've been going to the bathroom by myself for years now.” I leaned toward him and hoped the perfume would work its wonders. “If you could just point me in the right direction.”

The butler paused in midbreath as if his brain were at war with itself.

“It is the third door on the right.” He pointed down an unlit hallway and returned to the kitchen. I began to breathe a sigh of relief until I remembered I was in a strange mansion with a ghost on the loose.

Even in phantom-free environments, I don't care much for the dark. Like anyone with an imagination, I see shapes in the shadows and figures crouching in corners. A midnight trip to the bathroom will leave me trembling in terror, and a power outage can be practically life threatening. So while I was fairly certain that Lester Liu's ghost had no bones to pick with me, I knew if I looked I would see her everywhere. I rushed blindly through the six rooms on the hall. I vaguely remember a library, a study, a few bedrooms and a bathroom. I left bugs behind books, under chairs, and behind a toilet. (Probably not the best idea, I realized later.) In ten minutes, I was
finished. I straightened my dress, refreshed my Fille Fiable, and walked back to the dining room. It was empty, but for the butler who was cleaning up the remains of a roast duck that were strewn across the room and oozing down the legs of the table. I thought for a moment that I'd seen him smiling.

“Your friends have decided to leave, miss. They are waiting for you in the foyer.” He set down the tray of mangled meat and led me to Oona and Kiki. Oona's beautiful dress had been splattered with sauce and Kiki was removing grains of rice that clung like lice to her long black hair. Lester Liu stood with Oona's stole in his hand, an embarrassed look on his face.

“What happened?” I asked.

“The butler claims he was pushed,” said Kiki. “The fourth course landed on Oona.”

“Please accept my apologies,” Lester Liu pleaded. “The ghost usually reserves her punishments for me. I hope you will still consider my offer?”

“Why don't you hold your breath and see what happens.” Oona glowered as she grabbed her stole.

“One more thing before you go?” Lester Liu put a hand on his daughter's arm. “Your mother would want you to have this. It's the only picture left of her.” He pulled a photo from the inside pocket of his jacket. I caught a glimpse of a pretty young woman in an old-fashioned dress.

Oona snatched the picture from his hands and stormed out the door.

“Where are you going?” I called, running to keep up with her as she headed straight for the street, one arm
raised high in the air. A taxi on the other side of Fifth Avenue swerved across a lane of traffic and came to a halt in front of her.

“I need to be alone.” Oona opened the door of the cab and jumped inside.

“Wait …,” I started to say, but Kiki grabbed my arm, and I let the door slam.

“Let her go,” she said, lifting her hand to hail a cab. We heard a shrill whistle from across the street. Sitting on the rock wall that rings Central Park was the wild boy.

“That was fast,” Kaspar remarked as we approached. “Where did Oona go? Looked like she was in a hurry.”

“She had a date with a dry cleaner,” I said. “She's a very messy eater.”

Kaspar accepted the explanation but didn't pretend to believe it. “Did you see the snakes?” he asked.

“They were on the menu,” Kiki told him. “Baby cobras in chili sauce. According to our host, they're a delicacy in China.”

I shuddered at the thought. “I'd rather eat dirt from a dog run.”

Kaspar wasn't amused. “Did you say
cobras?
Most cobras are endangered. You can't buy them anywhere in New York. Did your host mention how he came by them?”

“He said he imports them from Thailand,” said Kiki. “You should probably know that you've spent the past day and a half watching the home of one of the most infamous smugglers in New York. There's nothing he wants that he can't get.”

“Why were you were having dinner with a smuggler?”

“He wanted to introduce Oona to his ghost,” I said. “And no, I'm not joking.”

For a boy with his own wild stories to share, Kaspar seemed remarkably surprised. “Who
are
you guys?” he asked. “You have maps of strange places. Smugglers invite you to dinner. And I don't even know what to think about the ghost.”

“It's a long story for another time,” said Kiki. “I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of you. But now I've got to get home; a friend of mine is very ill.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” He really did seem to be sorry. “May I ask one favor before you go?”

“Sure,” said Kiki.

“Please say hello to Betty,” said Kaspar. “And tell her I'm looking forward to dinner.”

•     •     •

As our taxi sped downtown, Kiki and I sat quietly. There was too much to talk about, and neither of us knew where to start.

Finally Kiki sighed. “You smell really bad.”

“I went a little overboard with the Fille Fiable right before we left. I ran into that creepy butler.”

“You weren't gone for long. Are all of your bugs in place?”

“Yeah. There weren't as many rooms to cover with the east wing blocked off. So do you think there's really a ghost?”

“I don't know. Oona seems convinced.”

“I feel sorry for her,” I said. “The dead mother she's
never met comes back from the grave and expects Oona to become an upstanding citizen.”

“I didn't buy that part. Lester Liu is after something. I just don't know what it is. I wish I could think more clearly.” Kiki rested her head against the cab window and sank into silence.

“Kiki?” I asked. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course everything's not okay. I just told you that Oona's father has something up his sleeve.”

“That's not what I mean. You keep missing meetings or showing up late. It's not like you. How sick
is
Verushka? Is there something I should know?”

Kiki rubbed her eyes, smearing her mascara. She took a deep breath, and I realized she was inhaling Fille Fiable.

“I made a stupid mistake,” Kiki admitted. “Verushka may be dying. And even if she doesn't die, we're both in a lot of trouble.”

I was too shocked to cry. Too shocked to say anything other than, “Can I see her?”

•     •     •

Ten minutes later, I stood in the doorway of Verushka's room, my feet refusing to move any farther. If it hadn't been for the slow, steady rhythm of the heart monitor, I would have been the first to call an undertaker. Kiki knelt beside the bed, holding one of her guardian's lifeless blue hands and brushing her hair out of her face. Verushka's eyes fluttered and her lips moved. Kiki leaned in to listen.

“I couldn't keep it a secret forever,” she replied with a tremor in her voice. “Ananka was worried about you. The others would be, too, if they knew the truth.” Verushka
weakly motioned for Kiki to bend forward so she could whisper in her ear.

“I won't tell her unless I have to, Verushka. I know you're right. She needs to be able to deal with her father. And I'll make sure she doesn't get herself into trouble. It's not going to be easy, though. Now there's a ghost involved.”

A middle-aged man in a white coat pushed past me and busied himself at a table, preparing a syringe of colorless liquid. He held the syringe to the light and tapped it to remove any air bubbles. A stream of liquid shot from the tip of the needle.

“What are you giving her?” Kiki asked as the doctor inserted the needle into Verushka's left leg. The old woman's eyes fluttered and shut.

“You wouldn't understand,” the doctor replied.

“I might,” Kiki insisted, standing up and fixing her eyes on the doctor. “I'm young, not retarded.”

“Look,” he said, peering down imperiously at Kiki. “I have more than ten years of higher education. I'm not even sure you've been alive that long. So why don't you stop pestering me and let me do my job. You hired me to save this woman, not to provide you with a medical degree.”

Kiki's eyebrow shot toward the ceiling. “Go ahead. Do your job. If you do it well, I'll forget this conversation took place,” said Kiki. “But if anything happens to her, I'm going to hold
you
responsible.”

The doctor rolled his eyes as Kiki stomped out of the room.

“What a jerk,” I said once we were out of earshot.

“I didn't hire Dr. Pritchard for his bedside manner,”
said Kiki. “He's good and for the right price, he's willing to keep his mouth shut. Unfortunately, I'm stuck with him.”

“You're not stuck with him. Let's call an ambulance and get Verushka to the hospital.”

“We can't. I took her there last week. That was my big mistake. The doctors traced the problem to the bullet lodged in her leg. It was releasing cyanide into her system. I guess my aunt and her henchman had a backup plan. If the bullet didn't kill Verushka, the poison eventually would.

“When the doctors removed the bullet, I thought they'd saved her life. But then they reported the bullet wound to the police. When I caught a nurse taking Verushka's fingerprints, I smuggled her out of the hospital. I thought she'd recover, but the improvement must have been temporary. The poison is still in her system. It's killing her.”

“If it's so serious, why are you worried about fingerprints?” I asked.

“Verushka is still wanted for my parents' murder,” said Kiki. “And the proof of her innocence is in Pokrovia. Even if the hospital saved her life, she'd only end up in jail. I know Verushka. This is what she would want.”

“Do you really think Dr. Charming can save her?” I asked.

“Personality aside, he's one of the best doctors in the city. I've spent every penny we had to make sure he has everything he needs. I'll probably have to make another kung fu film to pay the bills.”

“No, you won't,” I told her. “The rest of us will help. I still have the money I made from the Shadow City gold. It's all yours.”

“Thanks,” said Kiki, as our cell phones began beeping.
A text message had arrived for each of us.
“Golden Lotus. Tomorrow. Noon. Oona.”

“You have bigger problems than Lester Liu,” I told Kiki. “Stay with Verushka until she's better. I'll take care of the meeting tomorrow.”

•     •     •

I crawled back through my window before the clock struck midnight. As I changed out of my fancy dress, I listened at the door of my room. My parents were still awake. I could hear the faint sound of angry German voices and the
rat-a-tat
of machine-gun fire coming from the living room. If they were relaxed enough to enjoy a movie, my activities must have gone undiscovered. Exhausted as I was, there was still one thing left to do before I lay down to sleep. I opened my door and tiptoed down the hall to the guest bedroom.

At 11:00 the next morning, after my father had left for his Saturday study group, I approached my mother as she poured herself some coffee. As much as I would have liked to wait until she'd consumed her third or fourth cup, my mission couldn't be postponed.

“I need to go to the library,” I informed her.

“Sure you do.” For someone fairly new to sarcasm, she was getting quite good at it.

“I'm serious.” I held up my notebook and showed her the beginning of the essay Principal Wickham had assigned. “I'm writing an important paper on the Underground Railroad. It could keep me from getting an F in Mr. Dedly's class, but we don't have two of the books that I need to finish it.”

My mother was bemused. “Our nineteenth-century American history books are in the closet in the guest bedroom. You know that. If you're looking for something we don't already own, I doubt you'll find it at the library.”

“We used to have the books, but they're not there anymore. Dad must have taken them,” I said. “You know how he's always loaning stuff out.”

My father's lending habits were my mother's pet peeve. “Which books do you need?” she asked. I handed her a scrap of paper with two titles listed on it. “Let's have a look, shall we?”

I waited patiently for half an hour as my mother searched the guest bedroom closet. Unless she checked under my mattress, she had no hope of finding them.

“I wish your father wouldn't treat our house like the New York Public Library.” She finally sighed and consulted her watch. “You've got two hours, Ananka. If you're not back by one thirty, I'm coming to get you. And you better be sure that I'll make a scene.”

•     •     •

The Golden Lotus nail salon, ten blocks north of the library, was closed for business for the first time in over a year. A sign was clearly posted on the door, yet I arrived to find a woman in a mink coat and sunglasses peeking through the window, searching for signs of movement and finding it hard to believe that she might have to wait a whole day for a pedicure.

“Excuse me,” she said in the same tone of voice she must have used when addressing other people's maids. “Do you work here? Do you speak English?”