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She removed her glove and put a cold hand at the base of his neck, and after the shock of it, Memphis began to feel slightly better. Some of what he felt was seasickness. The rest was fear. There had been a small flock of reporters to see them off, all of them shouting questions as the Diviners boarded the boat:
“How do you plan to get rid of the ghosts?”
“Whaddaya say to folks who think you’re all wet to believe in ghosts—that there are no ghosts?”
“Should we be afraid that those ghosts could cross the river and come to Manhattan?”
“How come you’re going, Miss Knight?” one of the reporters asked Theta.
“Couldn’t let my best pals go without me. Especially after what happened on Evie’s show,” she answered.
“Say, where’s your uncle Will, Evie? How come he’s not here?”
“Poor Unc has a terrible cold. I’d hate for him to catch his death of pneumonia. Who’d dust all of the spooky knickknacks then?” Evie lied, getting a few laughs from the newsboys.
In truth, Evie and Will had fought bitterly about the trip. “But why don’t you want us to go?” Evie kept saying. “Will, Luther Clayton knows things!”
“Leave that poor man alone!” Will had barked.
And Evie had spat back, “That poor man tried to kill me, I’ll remind you. I’d like to know why.”
“You should stay and continue with your training. That’s what’s most important.”
Evie remained defiant. “We’re going.”
“Then you’re going without me,” Will had said with the same defiance, like the two of them had been cut from the same stubborn cloth.
Memphis had purposely kept himself and Isaiah hidden during the reporters’ questions. He didn’t want their names and faces in the papers, where Papa Charles or Owney Madden might see. Evie had been out front, of course, lapping up the attention. Memphis wasn’t always sure what to make of her. One minute, she was self-absorbed and an attention hog, and the next, she was trying to cure his seasickness or looking after Isaiah. When Gabe had been murdered, it was Evie who had wanted to help find Gabe’s murderer. In some ways, she was like all those smart set girls who came into the Hotsy Totsy, and at the same time, she was nothing like them.
“Any better?” she asked him now.
His stomach had calmed a bit. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Is that it?” Henry asked, leaning over the ferry railing slightly to get a better look.
Behind the thickening haze, the imposing asylum emerged brick by brick, ward by ward, like some mythological beast willing itself into existence. Rows of windows bled yellow against the murk like infected eyes.
Evie gripped her coat collar tight against her throat. “That’s the joint.”
The warden waited on the pier, hands clasped tightly at his stomach. Mr. Smith’s demeanor wasn’t jovial, as it had been the first time he’d met with Sam and Evie. He seemed jumpy and his eyes were bloodshot. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t know where else to turn,” he said as they disembarked.
“I’ve arranged for you to speak with several of the patients who claim to have experienced the ghosts, as well as some of our staff. Luther Clayton will not be one of them. I hope you will abide by the rules of decency this time, Miss O’Neill,” the warden said, frowning. “We should move quickly, however. They say there’s a storm moving in. This way, please.”
“Applesauce!” Evie muttered as they fell in behind the warden. “I’ve simply got to get to Luther!”
“Yeah, and before that storm moves in. I don’t like the sound of that,” Theta said as they trudged across the swell of land toward the hospital. The air was chilled and damp with no breeze; it clung to their necks and weighted their clothes. The gauzy haze sitting over the island gave everything the appearance of a dream. Clusters of skeletal trees appeared here and there like a memory that would not fully come.
“This place feels bad,” Ling said, and struggled forward with her crutches on the mucky path.
Henry frowned up at the forbidding asylum pushing itself into view. “I’ll be glad when this is over,” he agreed.
Nearby, several prisoners piled quarried stone for a new seawall while two guards with guns watched. The prisoners paused in their work for a moment to watch the spectacle of the Diviners moving past: Memphis and Sam carrying the bulky Metaphysickometer by its iron handles, Evie and Theta dressed to the nines like proper stars, Ling navigating the tricky ground with her crutches, Henry in his straw boater even though it was barely spring, and Isaiah, bringing up the rear, his head swiveling left and right as he tried to take in everything.
Isaiah ran to catch up with his brother and tugged at his sleeve. “We’re gonna be gone by nighttime, right?”
“Don’t worry, Ice Man. We are leaving here before the sun sets. Even if we gotta swim back.”
“If you tried, the cold would kill you,” Ling said. “If the cold didn’t kill you, the current would. These are some of the most treacherous waters in New York City.”
