The Empress's Tomb (31 page)

The shutters were open, and a pale, silvery light washed over a magnificent bedroom. Outside, the air was thick with snow, and the afternoon sun a dim blur. Against the far wall sat an antique four-poster bed with its green velvet curtains drawn shut. My steps muffled by a priceless Persian rug, I bolted across the room and heaved the heavy fabric to one side. Someone lay sleeping on top of the covers, her glossy black hair spread out over the pillow.

“Oona?” I whispered. When there was no response, I poked the body. It felt cold and stiff beneath my fingers. “There's something wrong with her,” I told Kiki. Without thinking, I yanked the drapes back farther, and the light fell upon a gruesome sight. Kiki's hand clapped over my mouth, stifling the scream that was trying to escape. Lying on the bed was a corpse clothed only in a red silk robe. We were too late. Oona was dead.

“Ananka. Ananka, listen to me. It's not Oona.” Kiki refused to remove her hand until I opened my eyes for another look. The person on the bed was the same size as
Oona, and even in death it was easy to see that she, too, had once been a beauty. But now her leathery skin was stretched tight over her cheekbones. The tip of her nose was crumbling and her mouth hung open in an endless scream. It was the mummy.

“That's
the Empress? How old
was
she?” I managed to mutter once I'd stopped hyperventilating. I had always imagined the Empress as an older woman, but the body on the bed looked remarkably youthful.

“Hard to tell,” Kiki replied. “She must not have been much older than we are when she died. I'm starting to feel sorry for the poor thing. She gets murdered, her grave is robbed, and then her mummy's dumped in a bedroom on the Upper East Side.”

“What do you think Lester Liu will do with her?”

“Whatever he has in mind, I doubt it'll be fit for an empress.”

The thought of a two-thousand-year-old mummy buried beneath the refuse on a garbage barge or decorating the den of an eccentric collector was too bleak to bear.

“We've got to save her,” I told Kiki. “Even if she was a traitor, she doesn't deserve this.”

“We'll try,” Kiki agreed. “But the living have to come first.”

•     •     •

Back in the hall, Kiki cautiously approached a second room. We were inches away when the door opened a crack, and we heard a familiar laugh on the other side. I froze in terror. In seconds I would have come face-to-face with Lester Liu if Kiki hadn't snatched my hand and
hauled me down the corridor. A door swung open as we passed. Oona sat alone on the floor of an enormous bedroom, dangerously close to a blazing fireplace big enough to roast a prize-winning pig. Kiki and I slipped inside and quietly closed the door behind us. I heard Oona talking softly, as if to an invisible companion. She had propped up her mother's photograph on the floor in front of her and surrounded it with tangerines, apples, and limes. In her lap lay a pile of brightly colored paper that looked from a distance like money. Every few seconds, Oona took a handful of cash and flung it into the flames. I was certain she had lost her mind and I started to speak, but Kiki put a hand on my shoulder. “Wait,” she mouthed silently.

When the last scrap of paper had been transformed into ash, Kiki and I approached the fireplace. Hearing our footsteps, Oona glanced over her shoulder before returning her eyes to the fire.

“Does she have what she needs now?” Kiki asked softly.

“It's only the beginning.” Oona's cheeks were flushed from the heat. “I have fourteen years to make up for.”

“What were you doing?” I asked.

“Sending my mother ghost money for the afterworld. She'll need it when she finally gets there.” Oona smiled sadly when she saw the confusion that must have been written on my face. “In China, many people believe that what you burn in this world will belong to your ancestors in the next. I should have made these offerings a long time ago, but I've been a terrible daughter. If my mother's a hungry ghost, it's all my fault. It was my duty to take care of her and punish Lester Liu.” She stood up and
brushed the ashes from her clothes. “The door was locked. Did you pick it?”

Kiki raised an eyebrow. “No, it opened as we ran by.”

Oona nodded. “The ghost must have let you in. But that doesn't mean you should stay. It's too dangerous for you guys to be here right now.”

“Too late,” I told her, letting the ghost comment pass. “We've already been kidnapped. We just saw Kaspar downstairs. He let us in on your plan. Why didn't you tell
us?
We could have helped.”

“You were busy, and it was my responsibility—not yours. I had a hunch my father was up to something, but I couldn't figure out what it was. I had to get close to him and make him believe that he'd won me over. So I took his gifts and spent his money and played his game. After a while, I convinced him. Turns out I'm a better actress than I thought, 'cause I ended up convincing you guys, too. But then again, the minute you found out I was Lester Liu's daughter, you were all willing to believe the worst of me.”

“Kiki wasn't. She always trusted you. But you're right about the rest of us. I promise it will never happen again.” It hurt to admit that I'd been such a fool, but I knew telling the truth was the only way to keep Oona's friendship.

“Don't worry. I forgive you,” Oona said sadly.

“So all this time you've been trying to avenge your mother's death? If you'd just told us what your father had planned … “

“I didn't know. I had my suspicions after I met Siu Fah. But I didn't know he was stealing paintings from the
museum until I saw the Fu-Tsang guy the night you got caught. After we left, I told my father I'd figured it all out and said I wanted to help. It was the only way to find out where he was hiding the Taiwanese kids before something terrible happened to them. But I had to give him a secret if I wanted to make him believe I was on his side.”

“We know.” I couldn't help but sound disappointed. “You told him about the rats. That wasn't very smart, Oona. What if something goes wrong? If he gets his hands on a map of the Shadow City, the whole city's in danger.”

Oona's temper flared. “Do I
look
like an idiot? I didn't tell him about the
perfume.
I gave him my old Reverse Pied Piper. If he ever gets the map, his men are going to be rat food the minute they enter the tunnels. But that's just plan B. If I have my way, Lester Liu won't get that far.”

Kiki waited a moment for Oona to calm down. “I understand that you're doing this for your mother, but do you really think she'd want you to put yourself in danger? And what about Mrs. Fei? She'd be heartbroken if something happened to you.”

“You're talking about the person who's been spying on me for years?” Oona huffed.

“She loves you, Oona. She was only listening so she could help you. She's always taken care of you and treated you like a daughter. What about your duty to
her?”

Oona started to speak but stopped. She sat down on the side of her bed and put her head in her hands. It was as though she'd found a fatal flaw in her plans. “You're right. I've been so stupid. That's what the medium was
trying to tell me, but I heard only what I wanted to hear. I ignored all that stuff about laundry detergent and someone listening. I misunderstood the whole message. But it doesn't matter. I can't stop now. I've come too far. There's no going back.”

“Yes, there is!” I insisted. “We can all get out tonight. We'll find a way.”

“Lester Liu is going to kill you,” Kiki said bluntly.

“I'm sure he'd like to.” Oona looked up with a triumphant smirk. “But after tomorrow, he'll be in jail.”

“No, Oona. He's going to kill you
tomorrow,”
said Kiki, and panic flickered across Oona's face. “We had a little chat with him earlier. He said he wants you to die like the Empress. I'm pretty sure that means two things: First, he's going to switch your body with the Empress's. Ananka and I just found the mummy in a room down the hall. They must be getting the coffin ready for you. Second, he wants you to be buried alive just like she was. My guess is you'll be given a drug that paralyzes you. Then he'll let you smother to death inside the mummy's airtight coffin while everyone at the party watches. You'll be covered with the jade shroud, so nobody will ever know the difference. Sound like fun to you?”

I shivered at the thought, but Oona stood firm. “I'll just have to come up with another idea.”

“Here's one. Get out of here while you can and go to the police,” I said.

“No.” Oona put her foot down. “Lester Liu could escape—just like last time. I'd have to watch my back for the next thirty years. So would the rest of you. I've got to
find a way to end this for good.” She turned to Kiki. “Isn't that what you'd do if you were in my shoes? Would you give Livia and Sidonia another chance to get away?”

Kiki took a deep breath. “Maybe there
is
a way,” she said thoughtfully. “But you can't do it on your own. You have to let the rest of us help.”

“Have you both lost your minds?” I asked.

•     •     •

Minutes after Kiki and I returned to captivity, Sergei Molotov arrived to check on his prisoners. He slinked into the room like a debonair demon and flipped on the lights, temporarily blinding us all. His slicked-back hair gleamed like motor oil and drew attention away from his unhealthy complexion and needlelike nose.

“Are you comfortable, my little princess?” Molotov thrilled at the sight of Kiki bound and tied. “I spoke with Queen Livia this afternoon. She and Mr. Volkov will be in America soon, and she is looking forward to seeing you. She said she hopes to arrive in time for the funeral of Verushka Kozlova. What is the English phrase—
She will spin on her grave?”

“Spit,” said DeeDee.

“Yes, thank you,” said Molotov. “She will spit on the grave of Verushka Kozlova.”

Kiki stared at the wall as if she hadn't heard a word. The ropes around her wrists and ankles were only for show, and if it hadn't been for our friend upstairs, Kiki would have coldcocked Molotov in no time. When she didn't answer, Molotov drew closer. I caught a whiff of his rank aftershave.

“You don't speak? I have ways to make people speak. I was told not to hurt you, but maybe Mr. Liu would not mind if I damage one of your friends? Maybe this one?” He kicked me in the shin hard enough to make me yelp.

“You're a monster, Molotov.” Kiki's voice was thick with anger. “You want me to speak? Then let me ask you a question. What's going to happen when Oleg Volkov doesn't get his paintings? What do you think he'll do to you? I hear he can be very creative.”

When Molotov smiled, his thin red lips stretched taut across a row of gray teeth. “What nonsense. The paintings are absolutely safe. Queen Livia will deliver them to Mr. Volkov herself. The question you should be asking is how will
she
deal with
you
? I hope her plan is as brilliant as Mr. Liu's.”

“You're a slow learner, aren't you, Molotov? You'll never keep me locked up for long. And this time, I'm not going to let you and that wicked old witch get away.”

“Who is going to set you free, Princess? The ghost?” Molotov rolled his eyes back and waved his long, pale arms in the air. “Woooooooo …” I might have laughed if the wail hadn't been the same one we'd heard on the surveillance tapes. Lester Liu had known about our bugs all along.

Molotov had started to take his performance to a whole new level when we all heard a thump outside the room. Then another. And another. They might have been the noises that old houses make. They could have been the storm outside—or a tree branch banging against a window. But they sounded like footsteps. The Taiwanese kids sat up straighter. The Irregulars trained their eyes on
the door. Sergei Molotov stopped midwail and perked up his ears.

“Maybe she will,” Kiki said with an impudent grin.

“This old house is falling apart,” Molotov pronounced. “The spirits are not coming to save you. The Chinese girl's mother is no more a ghost than your mother is. I am the only ghost here.
I
throw the food.
I
make the noises.”

“Are you making those?” Luz laughed. “ 'Cause if so, I'm really impressed.”

The thumping grew louder and louder. Someone—or
something
—was coming closer.

“Who said it was Oona's mother?” Kiki taunted him. “Maybe Cecelia Varney's still hanging around. She can't be too happy about what you did to her cats.”

Molotov pulled his gun from his waistband and waited. The thumping stopped right outside the door. As frightened as I was, I couldn't help but enjoy Molotov's terror.

“You know, Molotov, a wise man once told me what ghosts really are.” The quiver in Kiki's voice didn't match her expression. “They're the past returning to settle the score. In China they have hungry ghosts, but in Pokrovia we have Likho. Remember her? The one-eyed hag, the spirit of misfortune that everyone knows not to tempt. What if she's finally come for you? After all you've done, didn't you think she'd catch up with you sooner or later?”

Molotov could no longer bear the suspense. He flung open the door and pointed his gun into darkness beyond. There was nothing there.

“See, Princess,” he said, recovering his courage. “No ghosts. It was only the house making noises.”

“Remind yourself of that when you're walking back through the dark,” Kiki said with a snicker.

•     •     •

I had no idea what time it was. Somebody's head was on my shoulder, and a few people were snoring. I sat staring into a room so dark that it didn't make much difference whether my eyes were open or shut. I should have been making plans, but instead I was thinking of the hidden room beneath Bialystoker Synagogue when a sliver of light slid under the crack of the door. I heard a click and the door began to creak open. A thin figure in a long white nightdress floated into the room. The candle in its hand lit a pale face framed by dark hair that flowed over two thin shoulders. For a moment, I was certain it wasn't Oona, but her ghost.