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“What I see is that the King of Crows has got you right where he wants you!”
Sam thought about screaming. There were people who worked here. Servants. Did they know what was going on upstairs in the solarium? Did they care?
“Sir, we have to leave for New York soon. The memorial.”
“Yes, yes. I know.” Jake sounded irritated by the interruption. And Sam knew that Marlowe would’ve gone for another round if he hadn’t been inconvenienced by his dead fiancée’s memorial service in New York City.
“Y-you’re a m-monster,” Sam whispered through the foamy blood on his lips.
“I hope to change your mind about that, Sam. I truly do,” Marlowe whispered. The bastard had the audacity to sound sincere when he said it.
The Shadow Men returned Sam to his cell, locking him in. Sam couldn’t do much more than lie in his bed. He felt a hundred years old after what Marlowe’s Eye had done to him. And even when he shut his eyes, he could still feel his connection to that other world. He could still hear the screams of the soldiers.
Sam curled up in a ball and cried softly. “Don’t see me. Don’t see me. Don’t see me.”
CHAOS
The public memorial for Sarah Snow in Times Square was the biggest ticket since Marlowe’s ill-fated exhibition. Two hundred thousand people were expected. Radio microphones lined the stage. Cameras stood at the ready to turn it into a newsreel that would play at every picture palace across the nation. Everyone wanted to be seen and counted at Sarah Snow’s memorial. It was all about appearances. And after the bombing, appearances mattered; no one could afford to look unpatriotic. As she moved among the throngs of New Yorkers looking to be counted among the faithful, Evie thought about how Mr. Phillips had asked her to sign a loyalty oath. It was the reason she’d left WGI. From what she’d heard, others were being asked to sign loyalty pledges in businesses all over town. She wondered if any of them had refused. She wondered if she had been stupid to say no.
Newsies pushed into the crowd, hawking the late edition: “Ghosts Take Manhattan! Ghouls in Gotham!” New Yorkers tossed their nickels and crowded around to read about the previous night’s hauntings. From downtown to uptown, East Side to West, nowhere was safe. What did the sightings mean? the people asked one another. What did the ghosts want? And most important: Whose fault was it—who should shoulder the blame? The city had the feel of a town awaiting a hurricane.
Evie peered out from under the brim of Sam’s Greek fisherman’s cap, searching for Jericho in the crowd. She’d been harsh with him last night. It haunted her now. But she was also angry with him for the way he’d judged them when he knew the stakes. Evie and the others were fighting a war, and Jericho thought he could sit it out.
“There’s that snake Harriet Henderson,” Theta whispered, nodding toward the front of the barricade, where a policeman let the influential gossip columnist pass through and take her seat in the stands next to Jake Marlowe himself. She was wearing a new fur, Evie noted. The gossip business was paying off for Harriet—or the people paying her not to print gossip about them were paying off. Harriet drew a handkerchief from her pocketbook and dabbed at her eyes.
“Impossible,” Evie gasped.
Theta tugged her veiled hat down to hide her face. She recognized several Follies girls in the crowd, and she hoped they didn’t see her. “What’s impossible?”
“Harriet’s tears. Why, everybody knows snakes don’t cry,” Evie said, making Theta giggle.
“Say, Memphis, you copacetic?” Theta asked, concerned.
Memphis nodded. In truth, he was feeling pretty beat up. The previous night’s ghost hunting had taken it out of him. Something about it had felt different. Off. He wanted to ask the others if they’d experienced the same unease, but he was afraid of their answers.
Theta waved to Henry and Ling, who were coming through the crowd with Jericho. Evie’s heart sped up. What would she say? What would he say?
“Hi,” Henry said, without his usual bonhomie. “Anyone else have a sleepless night?”
“Yes,” Memphis said, and he didn’t know if he was relieved not to be alone in that or worried that it meant Henry was also disturbed by their shared experience.
“Evie. Nice hat,” Jericho said crisply.
“Thank you. I’m rather fond of it. And the person it belongs to,” she responded in kind. Then: “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Jericho lied.
“Well. I’m awfully glad to hear it.”
“Careful, your enunciation is showing,” Theta whispered to her.
“What did the ghosts mean last night: You did this. Did what? Were they saying what’s happening is our fault?” Ling asked.
“That’s ridiculous! If anything, we’re trying to stop this,” Evie said, glancing at Jericho, who did not look her way.
“Isaiah, you got a sense about things. What’s to come?” Bill asked.
Isaiah shook his head. The visions came when and how they liked. He wondered if it was the same way for Sarah Beth, or if she’d figured out how to master her powers, and if she had, if she’d show him how to do it.
