The Twilight Prisoner (13 page)

“It's almost sunset.”

Jack slowly opened his eyes. Euri was standing beside him. He yawned and stretched, then looked at Cora, who was still asleep. He felt awkward about their conversation and almost didn't want to wake her up. But Euri had already floated over to her and was poking her arm. “Cora, wake up, it's time to go.”

Cora opened her eyes and sat up, looking momentarily confused before she caught sight of Jack and smiled.

“We better go find Austin,” he said, unable to look her in the eye.

Euri reached out and took Cora's hand and he hurried ahead of them, flying quickly, so he wouldn't have to take Cora's other hand.

Soon they burst out of Bethesda Fountain and into a nippy night. A cold wind rustled through the trees, scattering dry brown leaves onto the terrace and blowing them into the lake. As the lamps around the terrace switched on, Jack looked wistfully at the arcs of ghosts zooming toward the city. In contrast, the living, wearing jackets and emitting little puffs of air, seemed weighed down.

“We should start by flying to all the places where we saw Austin before,” Euri said. “We need to be careful, though. I heard a spirit counter tell someone that the Living Threat Level's been raised again.”

Jack didn't know what to say to Cora, so he didn't say anything. Instead, he tried to look busy searching for Austin, craning his neck for guards and dipping away from Euri and Cora to search through clusters of ghosts. They checked around Bethesda Fountain, where Cora had first seen Austin. But they didn't see anyone who looked even remotely like him. Then they flew down to Trinity Church, where they zoomed up and down Broadway, calling his name. On the way back uptown, Jack realized that Euri was taking them up Ludlow Street. “What are we doing here?” he asked Euri as the familiar tenement came into view.

“I'm looking for Austin,” Euri replied nonchalantly.

“Here?” asked Cora. “Why would he be here?”

“It might be on his route,” said Euri with a shrug as they landed on Nate's fire escape.

“Or on
your
route,” said Cora under her breath.

“This isn't exactly the best time to haunt,” Jack agreed. He caught a glimpse through the window of Nate scribbling song lyrics on the wall.

“Fine,” said Euri, turning around. She seemed disappointed. “Let's leave.”

They flew up Avenue A to St. Mark's, where they searched the sidewalks outside St. Dymphna's Bar, Addiction NYC body piercing, and Chrysalis Acupuncture. But there was no sign of Austin.

Cora sighed. “He was in front of the comics store last time. Let's check inside.”

But when they flew into St. Mark's Comics, all they found were several ghosts gathered to discuss Superman #80, “Superman's Lost Brother.” None of them had seen Austin. Even Euri looked frustrated. “I suppose we could try his parents' apartment,” she suggested.

It was just after 2 A. M. when they reached Austin's fancy apartment house on Central Park West. The Beresford was a hulking building overlooking the park and topped by three towers illuminated by large copper lanterns. “I think he lives in Apartment 16A,” said Cora. As they flew up the side of the building, Jack tried to ignore the fact that Cora knew Austin's apartment number by heart.

They floated over a stone balcony and through a window into an apartment that seemed to extend endlessly with fireplaces, a formal dining room, and bedrooms as large as Jack's entire apartment. The halls were lined with oil portraits, including one of a plump man dressed in a white lab coat. “Hey, look,” said Jack. “That's the ghost Austin was traveling with.”

“Maybe that's his great-grandfather?” said Cora. “The one who worked on the Manhattan Project?”

“He must be,” said Jack, thinking of how he had first seen him haunting the Columbia tunnels.

“At least he's with family,” said Cora.

There was also a portrait of Austin and his brother, a chubby, older, dark-eyed boy, holding hands when they were small. Euri floated in front of it, staring intensely at the boys' faces.

“I wonder how he died,” Cora said, leaning in to peer at Austin's brother. “Poor Austin.”

But Jack didn't feel like Austin needed much sympathy. One vast bedroom was filled with musical equipment—amplifiers, keyboards, and drum sets. Another was a mess of lacrosse sticks, comic books, and Chapman banners from different years. There was a cigar-tinged library with leather furniture and floor-to-ceiling volumes of Latin texts, though Jack also noticed some English poetry and a first edition of The Lord of the Rings. The elevator doors were entirely brass and had a crested shield of a dragon and a bear with the motto
FRONTE NULLA FIDES
—
Place no trust in appearances
. This seemed like a joke. Watching Cora's eyes take in the luxurious surroundings, Jack knew he could never compete.

“It doesn't look like anyone is home,” said Euri. “Come on, it's after midnight. We don't want to miss Epiphany.”

Jack felt secretly relieved.

“We can't just let Austin die!” Cora said.

“I wouldn't worry about Austin,” said Euri, pointing at Cora's hands. “I would worry about you.”

They all looked at Cora's hands, which had turned a paler shade than the rest of her, revealing the blue veins beneath.

Cora turned to Jack. “What's happening?”

“Your body is starting to feel the effects of being in the underworld.” Jack studied his own hands. They still looked solid. “I guess it takes mine a little longer. But Euri's right. We better start looking for Epiphany. Half the night is already over.”

Cora gazed longingly around the apartment, her eyes coming to rest on the portrait of the two brothers.

“I'll keep looking for Austin,” Euri offered. “But it would be foolish for you to wait any longer.”

Still, Cora hesitated. Jack tried the one thing he knew that would make her leave. “You need to get back to your mom. She can't take care of herself without you.”

A tear ran down Cora's cheek as she nodded and took his hand.

As they flew across Central Park West and into the park, Jack wondered if Cora could learn to love him. It wasn't his fault, after all, that Austin had run off to find his brother and didn't want to be found. He knew his tiny three-room apartment was a far cry from the Beresford, but perhaps eventually—after Cora recovered from Austin's death— she would consider visiting Jack there. He would slowly impress her with funny Latin expressions and stories from his father's archaeological digs, and one day, she would realize that it was he she had liked all along.

As they circled the elevated outcrop of Summit Rock, Jack noticed that several ghosts in nineteenth-century outfits were hovering over it, some talking in tight circles, others quietly surveying the park alone.

“There's Aurora,” said Euri, pointing to a ghost in a gray flannel dress floating above a bench at the top of the ridge.

As Jack flew toward her, Aurora looked up, her expression startled, then cross. “Cerberus nearly took a bite out of me,” she grumbled as he touched down in front of her. “Well, it was your own fault for shouting,” said Euri. “Sorry about that,” Jack said. “Is Epiphany here?”

“Epiphany!” Aurora yelled, waving at the other side of the rock.

A thin ghost with a stubbly face and dark, hooded eyes floated over to them. From the way he looked at Cora, Jack could tell that he recognized she was alive.

“These children think you can help them,” said Aurora.

“We're looking for a way back to the living world,” said Jack. “We heard there's one in Seneca Village. That you would know.”

Epiphany shook his head. “I don't know about any such thing.”

Jack saw the worried look on Cora's face. They had both been so excited about figuring out Viele's clue that they hadn't considered whether his information was accurate. Perhaps it was outdated and the secret way out had disappeared years earlier? Or perhaps Viele had lied?

Aurora put her hand on Cora's shoulder. “This child's mother is sick.”

“Please,” Cora pleaded. “I need to get back to her.”

Epiphany's dark eyes latched on to Cora's. “Who sent you?”

“Viele,” said Cora. “The mapmaker.”

At the mention of Viele's name, Epiphany spat on the ground.

“Viele was happy to see us go,” Aurora explained. “He called us squatters, too.”

“You're pretty sensitive about that,” said Euri.

“We have reason to be,” said Epiphany. “We were landowners. We had a community. All of it was taken away because of who we were.”

“I think maybe Viele regrets that now,” said Jack. “He didn't say anything bad about you.”

“He did do us one good turn,” Epiphany admitted. “But not because he respected us. We had a common enemy.”

Jack thought about the park's designers, the ones Viele had sued. “Olmsted and Vaux?”

Epiphany nodded. “Seneca Village had a spring. It's where we got our fresh water. The city took everything away from us when they built the park. But we didn't let them take the spring. When they destroyed our homes, we hid it.

“Viele knew about the spring from his surveying. He disliked us but he hated the park's designers even more, so he kept our secret. It's not on his map.”

He looked at Jack. “But there's one thing you should know. It only works if you're alive.”

Jack thought about what Viele had told him. He was alive if he chose to be. “I am alive.”

“And he needs to go back,” said Euri firmly.

“My mistake,” Epiphany said, peering at him more closely. “There was something dead about you.”

“So you'll take us?” said Cora.

“As long as you remember us when you get back to the living world,” said Epiphany. “Remember what was here.”

“Of course we will!” said Jack.

“We'll tell everyone we know about Seneca,” added Cora.

For the first time since they'd met him, Epiphany smiled. “Follow me.”

Aurora waved good-bye as they flew after him down a sloping trail that descended the south side of Summit Rock. Behind them, they could hear the shouts of ghost children at the playground. Across the wall dividing the park from Central Park West, Jack could see the Beresford. He quickly turned away, trying not to think about Austin. His fate was sealed, Jack told himself. At least he would be with his great-grandfather and brother.

Epiphany led them off the path to an area at the base of Summit Rock that was covered with dry leaves and rocks. He took a branch and poked around the ground. “Sometimes even I have a hard time finding it,” he said.

A moment later, he grunted. “Here it is.”

Jack looked at the dry, gray rock at Epiphany's feet. It didn't look like a spring at all.

“That's it?” asked Cora.

Epiphany carefully looked around, and then picked up the rock and moved it away. Behind it, trickled a small spring. “This will bring you back to the living world,” he said. “Just step into it. Quickly now.”

Cora turned to Euri and threw her arms around her in a big hug. Euri stiffened, surprised, then hugged her back, resting her head on Cora's shoulder.

“I'm sorry you can't come back with us,” Cora said.

Only Jack saw the tears gather in Euri's eyes. She blinked furiously, holding them back as she let go of Cora and straightened up. “You shouldn't have worried about getting back. Jack doesn't break his promises.”

“Neither do you,” Cora said.

Euri smiled.

“If you see Austin, tell him—” Cora hesitated. “Tell him I'll miss him.”

“Hurry,” Epiphany said. “We don't want any of the guards to discover us.”

Jack knew it was his turn to say good-bye to Euri. “Come see me this time?”

“As long as I can stay out of Bloomingdale,” she said, not quite looking him in the eye.

He felt he should hug her but he was afraid he would cry. He let go of her hand and took Cora's. “We better go,” he said, stepping toward the spring.

Suddenly, Aurora flew toward them. In her hand she held a newspaper, which she waved in the air. “Special edition of the
Underworld Times
!” she said. “Mann Down is reporting that the guards have the Living Avenger in custody!”

“But that's impossible,” said Cora.

“That's what I thought,” said Aurora, eyeing Jack.

“That column is nothing but lies,” said Euri crossly. “Go.”

But Jack was curious. “Do they have a picture of him?”

“No picture of him,” Aurora said.

“See, it's just made up,” said Euri.

“All they have is a picture of the weapon he was carrying,” said Aurora.

“The weapon?” said Jack.

Aurora held out the paper. As soon as Jack saw the photo, a sickened feeling came over him. It was his pouch of ghost repellent. There was only one way the guards could have gotten it. His mind began to race. He could step into the spring with Cora. They would both be safe.

“Jack,” Cora gasped, an alarmed look on her face. “That's not the pouch you gave Austin—?”

But, before she could finish, he pushed her into the spring, taking care not to get his own feet wet. Cora stumbled onto the glistening rock and vanished into the ground.

“What are you doing?” asked Euri. “Are you crazy?”

For a moment, Jack thought he was.

“You'll never rescue him! There are only a couple hours left till dawn.” Euri grabbed his arm. “Jack's going to go, too,” she explained to Epiphany. She turned back to him. “You promised!”

Jack shook his head. “I need to get Austin first.”

Euri crossed her arms over her chest. “But he's the guy that Cora likes.”

Jack didn't answer.

“I'll go after him,” said Euri. “You go back.”

“No,” said Jack.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I don't know,” said Jack.

“She won't choose you just for saving him.”

“I know!” said Jack, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. “I can't compete. He's Austin Chapman, the richest, most popular guy in the whole school.”

Euri grabbed his arm and started shoving him toward the spring. “Forget it! It's not worth risking your life for him.”

But Jack held his ground. “Can I come back later tonight?” he asked Epiphany.

“You're one strange living person,” Epiphany observed. “But the spring will still be here. Just make sure you're not being followed.”

Jack turned to Aurora. “Does the story say where the guards might have taken him?”

Aurora began reading from the paper. “‘Inspector Stephen Kennedy wants to reassure the public that the Living Avenger has been apprehended. “An accomplice escaped, but we have the Avenger himself in custody at The Tombs,” the Inspector revealed early this morning to Mann Down.'”

“The Tombs?” said Jack. “Is that a cemetery?”

“It's a suicide mission,” Euri grumbled.

Jack grinned. “Well, luckily, you're already dead.”

Fifteen minutes later, as they floated over a packed parking lot across from the courthouse, Euri pointed to a bridge one story above the ground, with frosted glass windows connecting 100 Centre Street to a drab, concrete tower. “That's the Bridge of Sighs,” she explained. “Prisoners cross it to go between the courthouse and the Tombs. It's not a cemetery, Jack, it's a jail.”

The Tombs reminded Jack of a very tall and sinister parking garage. A slender frosted glass window ran the length of it and slivers of unnaturally bright light leaked out through narrow windows embedded in the thick layers of gray concrete. The bottom stories had no windows at all—just black vents—and the very top seemed to be a lattice of bars. “Why is it called the Tombs?” he asked.

“Professor Schmitt . . .” Euri paused.

Jack put his hand on her arm. “I'm sorry, Euri.”

“I don't know why he was in such a hurry to move on,” she snapped.

Taking a hundred and fifty years didn't seem like much of a hurry, but Jack nodded sympathetically.

Euri sighed. “He once told me that the original building looked a lot like an Egyptian tomb. I guess the name just stuck.”

“Have you ever been inside?”

Euri looked mildly offended. “Do I look like a criminal?” Then she frowned. “Don't answer that. They don't lock up juvenile offenders anyway—unless, I guess, they're alive. They just send them to Bloomingdale.”

“How do they lock up ghosts.” Jack asked. “Can't they just fly right out?”

“The haunters can. But the ones who've violated underworld rules have to wear ankle charms. If they tried to leave, the guards can just track them down.”

Jack studied the building. “It looks like it has a lot of cells. I wonder where Austin—”

“Forget Austin,” Euri pleaded. “Let's just go back to the spring. You promised me you'd go back.”

“And I will,” he said. “But first I need to get—”

“Austin, Austin, Austin!” Euri shrieked. “He wouldn't do the same for you!”

“Shhh!” whispered Jack, looking around the dark parking lot. A rat scampered out from under a car and into an alley. He continued in a quiet voice. “Maybe he wouldn't. But I'm going inside. If you don't want to come, don't.”

He flew across the street and toward the Bridge of Sighs without looking back. Slipping through the frosted glass window, he found himself in an enclosed walkway with buzzing fluorescent lighting. Three living men in scruffy clothes and with downcast eyes shuffled through him as corrections officers escorted them toward the courthouse. Ahead he could hear the buzz of a security door as it opened and another living prisoner was escorted out.

Flying through it, he entered a broad hall that echoed with shouts, moans, and eerie bursts of laughter from above. Looking up, Jack saw several floors of cell blocks, stacked one atop the other.

“Who are you?”

Jack started. A dead guard was floating in the shadows, glaring at him.

“Iwork for Mann Down,” Jack stuttered. “I'm reporting on the Living Avenger.”

“He's not taking interviews.”

“Can I just take a look around?” Jack asked. “Just so I can describe the building?”

“You're not supposed to . . .”

“It's my first day on the job,” Jack pleaded. “If I come back empty-handed—”

The guard waved Jack up. “I didn't see nothing.”

As Jack floated up, he noticed that the tiny cells were crammed with both the living and the dead, though it was hard to tell who seemed more distraught. A few of the living prisoners slept, their faces pale and twitching under the fluorescent light, but many others hung on to the bars, shouting, weeping, laughing hysterically or simply staring out with haunted eyes. The dead prisoners cursed, moaned, and generally added to the overall feeling of gloom and hopelessness. But unlike the living ones, they occasionally floated out of their cells to spread their misery to other floors.

As he drifted around the first level, Jack peered into each cell.

“Who you looking for, sonny?” cackled a leering ghost dressed in dirty petticoats.

“They left me in here with the rats!” shouted a bowlegged spirit with gaping holes in his face.

Jack shuddered and continued to the next floor and a new row of cell blocks. The first cell looked dark and empty, but just as Jack was about to float away, what he had thought was a pile of rags burst up from the floor. “Stand ho! Who goes there?” it roared in a sonorous British accent.

Jack jumped backward. The spirit arched his thick eyebrows in a dramatic way, waiting for an answer.

But before Jack could say anything, a voice from above suddenly shouted, “No more Hamlet!”

“‘All that lives must die, passing through nature to eternity!'” the spirit roared back, rolling his r's so they trilled and echoed across the prison.

“For crying out loud,” the ghost above howled, “we know!”

The spirit ignored this outburst and, grabbing Jack by the collar, stage-whispered into his ear. “Junius Brutus Booth, tragedian.”

“And drunk,” shouted the ghost from above. “They'd lock him up here between performances.”

“Jack,” said Jack, gently loosening Booth's powerful grip on his collar. Booth's name was familiar. “You're not related to the man who shot President Lincoln?”

“He's the traitor's father!” the ghost from above said.

At this, Booth hung his head and his translucent brown eyes filled with tears. “‘It is a wise father that knows his own child,'” he said in a quavering voice.

“Um, sorry for asking,” Jack whispered so the ghost above wouldn't hear. Booth started to weep. “I'd better be going,” said Jack awkwardly. But this only made Booth sob harder. Jack hesitated, afraid he would alert the guards.

“I thought you were going to find Austin!”

Jack spun around. Euri was floating behind him with her arms crossed.

“You came!” Jack whispered.

She glowered at him but her lips twitched, and Jack could tell she was fighting a smile.

Booth instantly brightened. “Behold Pyramus and Thisbe!”

Euri eyed him wearily. “What's this old coot talking about?”

“Characters from the play in
A Midsummer Night's Dream
,” Jack explained. “They're lovers separated by a wall. It's based on a myth in Ovid—”

“I don't think we have time for English class,” Euri interrupted in a tense voice. She turned to Booth. “Where's the living boy? Where are they keeping him?”

Booth cocked his head. “The next floor up,” he whispered, “on the other side of the block. Malachi Fallon, the warden, is guarding him personally.”

“I was just about to ask him that,” said Jack.

“Right,” said Euri, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the corridor.

As they floated up toward the top level of cells, Jack turned to Euri. “If the warden is guarding him, how are we ...?”

“I don't know,” said Euri, touching down on a quiet floor of mostly empty cells. “We need to eyeball where he is first and figure it out. At least he won't have an ankle charm. Since he's alive, the bars really hold him.”

“But this isn't the top floor,” said Jack.

“I know. It's the one beneath it.” She floated up to the ceiling, and her head disappeared through the cement. With one hand, she waved him up to do the same.

Jack flew up and shoved his head hard against the concrete, which reluctantly gave, as if he were putting on a very tight sweater. As soon as his head popped up through the floor, Euri turned to him and put her finger to her lips. Close by, they could hear a familiar voice, crisp and precise, asking questions.

“How long have you been terrorizing the underworld?” demanded Inspector Kennedy.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” said a tired-sounding voice.

“Austin!” Jack mouthed.

“I knowyour type, son,” Kennedy mused. “Full of sob stories. Tough family life. No one loves you. Well, the law doesn't care. If you value your miserable life, Living Avenger, answer the question.”

Jack's heart pounded in his chest. The sob story was his. He was the one who should rightfully be locked up.

“I told you,” said Austin, his voice cracking, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Let me have a go at him, governor,” said a man's eager voice in an Irish brogue.

“Very well, Fallon,” said Kennedy with a sigh. “But don't kill him. His time will be up soon enough, and in the meantime, I want him alive.”

Footsteps began to echo toward them as they ducked back down through the floor.

“They must be just a couple of cells in that direction,” whispered Euri, pointing to the left. She grabbed Jack's hand, dragging him twenty feet down the cell block and then popped her head back up through the ceiling.

When Jack joined her, he found himself looking through thick bars into a dim cell. In a corner of the cell, a figure sat on the floor, rocking back and forth, his hair disheveled. Above him stood a ghost wearing a black cravat and holding Jack's ghost-repellent pouch with the tips of his fingers. He had a low, heavy brow and droopy eyes.

“So, boy, are you sure this isn't your weapon?”

“Weapon?” Austin said. “Someone gave it to me for allergies.”

“You can't keep on lying to us.”

“I'm not! Just leave me alone!”

Fallon snickered. “Well, Mr. Avenger, you're in luck today,” he said. Without waiting for Austin to ask him why, he smiled. “A prominent newspaper columnist has expressed his concern for your health and well-being.”

Jack exchanged worried glances with Euri.

“He promised me something if I gave you this.” Fallon put the ghost-repellent pouch on the floor and then dug around in his pocket. “Ah, here it is.” He held out his arm and offered Austin the same chocolate bonbon that Colonel Mann had offered Cora.

Ever since Auden had explained the derivation of Cora's name, Jack had been worried that she would eat something and die, just like
Kore
. But with a sickening feeling, he realized that it wasn't Cora who shared Proserpina's fate—it was Austin.

Fallon continued to dangle the chocolate in front of him. “Come now, boy, you must be hungry,” he cooed. “And if you want to stay alive, you need to keep up your strength.”

As if in a dream, Jack watched Austin stick out his hand and take the candy.

“Best you ever tasted,” said Fallon with a laugh.

Austin held the chocolate up and studied it, as if about to take a bite.