BACK IN THE MIELSWETZSKI DEN, CHARLOTTE STARED at her cousin while he haltingly told his story. Grandmothers, plagues, strange man-like men, and shadowless boys – she had no idea what to think. The way she saw it, there were three options:
1. Zee was pulling her leg.
2. Zee was certifiably loony.
3. Zee was telling the truth.
Charlotte meditated on these options, conscious of her cousin's eyes on her. Even Bartholomew, who had listened attentively to the entire story, was watching her.
He didn't seem like he was pulling her leg, unless he was the best actor ever. It would be a strange joke-one that, frankly, required more imagination than her cousin had shown so far. And if Charlotte was to be fair, it required a lot more meanness, too. Zee might be a little strange, but he was not mean. She glanced at her cousin and blushed.
"You think I'm having you on?" said Zee quietly. His eyes dropped.
Charlotte squinted at him. She was becoming very good at translating British to English. "No," she said. "I don't think you're pulling my leg."
It was entirely possible that Zee was crazy. He certainly had been acting like it this entire time. There was some great mystery surrounding her cousin, and Uncle John had said something about him acting "unusual." This was unusual, all right. If she had a kid who told stories like this, she'd ship him out of the country too.
Plus, he had recently had a head injury. That could explain a lot.
But when Charlotte had first thought Zee was bonkers, on the very first night, it was because he'd kept asking if anyone was sick. And then everyone got sick. If he was crazy, he was awfully prescient, too.
And there was something else. The men. The tall, thin, man-like men in the tuxedos. When Zee was talking about the creepy men on the street, something in her brain had stood at attention, and her stomach rose in her belly.
She could close her eyes and picture those men, just as he had described-the strange, old tuxedos; the grayish-white skin; the freakishly chapped lips. She had seen those men before.
But where?
An involuntary shiver ran through Charlotte. That thing in her brain started to dance around urgently. She regarded her cousin carefully.
"You think I'm barmy?" muttered Zee.
Slowly Charlotte shook her head. "No," she mumbled. "I don't think you're nuts."
And that left only one option…
Could he really be telling the truth?
Charlotte chewed on her lips. Her stomach was still floating around in her belly, and her skin felt prickly. She couldn't get the afterimage of those man-like men out of her mind. She looked up at her cousin, who was regarding her closely. His eyes were big, and for a moment he seemed very small. They looked at each other for a while, saying nothing. Zee gulped.
"So," he said in a whisper, "do you believe me?"
The words hung in the air. Charlotte couldn't help but notice how desperate he sounded. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. She closed her eyes. She shuddered. "Maybe?"
Zee exhaled loudly. "Okay. Okay," he said. "If you want, well, I know a way…I could prove it to you."
Charlotte ducked into her room to pick up what they would need, and then she and Zee walked down the stairs together as quietly as they could. Charlotte knew a confrontation with her mother was inevitable, but she still held out hope that the world was a magical, wonderful place where she could sneak in and out of the house without her mother even noticing.
"Charlotte?"
Alas, the world was not such a place.
"Mom?" Charlotte called innocently. She and Zee froze by the coat closet. Bartholomew, who had followed them downstairs, started running back and forth along the front hallway.
"What are you doing?" Mrs. Mielswetzski's voice carried in from the living room. Charlotte glanced at Zee.
"We're going out!" she said brightly.
"Oh, are we?"
Charlotte sighed as she heard footsteps approach. Her mother stood in front of them, hands on hips. "And just where do you think you're going?" she said in her very motherly way. Bartholomew started batting at her ankles.
Charlotte's eyes grew wide. "We have to give Maddy her homework. Zee wanted to come with." This is what made Charlotte a good liar; she was quick thinking, earnest, and remorseless. In fact, she was at her most sincere when she was lying. Her parents still hadn't caught on.
"Oh, did he?" Mrs. Mielswetzski gazed at Zee, and then back at Charlotte, in her I know this is all your fault kind of way.
"Mom, he's fine. He said he was feeling much better." Charlotte elbowed Zee in the kidneys.
"Um, yes, Aunt Tara," he added quickly. "I could really do with some exercise. I feel much better, but I really need some fresh air."
Charlotte exhaled. He had said just the right thing. Her mother was a great believer in fresh air.
Indeed, Mrs. Mielswetzski visibly relaxed. "All right," she said. "Just… be careful. Bundle up."
"Mom! It's really warm."
"Charlotte, there's something going around. You're lucky I'm letting you out of the house."
"Bundling up's not going to help," Charlotte muttered, glancing at Zee. She grabbed her coat.
Mrs. Mielswetzski had not heard. "I'm sure I'm going to regret this. I've never heard of them canceling school," she sighed. "You be careful out there. And your father says dinner's in an hour. Don't be late. And Charlotte?"
"Yes?"
Her mother's expression softened. "You're nice to help your friend. Tell Maddy I hope she feels better soon."
"Thanks, Mom." Charlotte smiled a little.
But her mom wasn't looking at her anymore. "What is that cat doing?"
Charlotte and Zee turned to look. Bartholomew was standing directly in front of the front door, staring at Charlotte and Zee. Her tail had puffed out to twice its size, and a low growling sound was emanating from somewhere deep within her. Charlotte and Zee took a step toward her and the growling grew louder. She backed up against the door and starting hissing.
"See?" Mrs. Mielswetzski said, laughing a little. "Even the kitten doesn't want you to go out."
Eyes wide, Charlotte approached Bartholomew, picked up the hissing, growling, scratching, puffy hell beast, and gingerly set her aside.
Charlotte had not been completely lying to her mother; they were going to Maddy's house. She had been truthful about the destination of their visit, if not the reason, the best lies having some truth to them, and all.
The cousins walked along in silence in the cooling evening air, while Charlotte mused further on Zee's story. It did sound crazy, but who was to say there weren't weird, creepy, tuxedo-wearing shadow thieves wandering around? It was possible. Anything's possible.
And, of course, Uncle John and Aunt Suzanne's reaction was so classic. Her parents would have sent her into therapy too. It would just never occur to them that he might actually be telling the truth.
And if it was true, none of them, neither the Millers nor the Mielswetzskis, were going to be any help at all. Which was so typical.
"Now," Charlotte said when they got to the Rubys' door, "let me do the talking."
Zee coughed a little. Charlotte rang the doorbell. Mrs. Ruby answered the door, looking even more tired than before. "Charlotte? Hello. Come on in."
"Hi, Mrs. Ruby," Charlotte said. "I wanted to give Maddy today's homework. Oh, this is my cousin Zee." Zee stiffened and stuck out his arm. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Mrs. Ruby blinked and shook his hand formally. "And you, Zee."
"He's from England," Charlotte explained. "How's Maddy?"
"Oh, well… I'm sure she'll be better soon." Mrs. Ruby smiled thinly. Mrs. Ruby was not a very good liar. Charlotte's stomach turned.
Maddy's room was the same dark, cold place it had been when Charlotte last saw it, and Maddy looked just as lifeless as she had before. She smiled at Charlotte, but she didn't even lift her head, and for a moment Charlotte forgot why they had come.
"Hi, Maddy," Charlotte said softly, sitting down next to her friend. "Are you okay?" It was so dark in the room she could barely see her face.
Maddy shrugged.
Charlotte leaned in. "What's wrong?"
Maddy's eyes grew into small, round moons. "I'm just so tired," she said weakly.
"It's okay, Maddy," she said softly, grabbing her friend's hand. "You'll get better."
"I don't know" Her eyes traveled to Zee, who was standing in the back of the room. "Oh!… Hi…"
In the sickbed moment Charlotte had almost forgotten the reason for their trip, but at the reminder of Zee's presence in the room everything came flooding back to her. She stiffened, then said, too brightly, "Zee's here… he wanted to say hi."
"Oh!" Maddy said, casting a you should have warned me look at Charlotte. She moved, as if to sit up.
"No, it's all right." Zee stepped forward anxiously. "Don't… don't. I just wanted to say… I hope you feel better."
"So," Charlotte interjected breezily, "I've got your homework. Mr. Metos said you don't have to worry about the rest of the unit, isn't that nice? And do you know there's no school all week? So you won't be missing anything. Cool, huh? With the long weekend, that makes a whole week off. You'll be back in school with the rest of us on Wednesday. Then you can get back to helping me with my math." Charlotte smiled limply, while Zee stepped back into the shadows. Meanwhile, Maddy had faded into her pillows.
"Hey, um, Maddy?" Charlotte said tentatively. "Can we ask you something?"
"Yeah?"
"When you were walking home on Monday, you know, when you got sick? Did anything, um, happen?"
"Huh?"
"Oh, you know… did you see anything… weird? Or… anyone?" Charlotte eyed her friend carefully. Maddy shook her head. "No. No," she whispered. "I was just walking, and I don't know. I must have fainted or something. I was fine, and then I woke up on the ground. I could barely get home."
"And that's all?"
"Well… just about…"
"What else?" Charlotte leaned in. Zee, too, stepped forward.
"Oh, it's nothing. It's crazy. I just had this weird feeling. Like…" She didn't have to continue. Charlotte knew exactly what she was going to say, and her brain formed the words just as Maddy said them-Like I was being watched.
There was a knock on the door, and then Mrs. Ruby opened it slightly. A beam of light invaded the room, and Maddy visibly winced. "Charlotte? Honey, I think we should let Maddy rest now"
"Okay, Mrs. Ruby," Charlotte said. "I just need to show her something in the math homework."
"Well…" She entered the room, and Zee stepped back farther. "Charlotte, maybe now isn't the best time."
"It's really important," Charlotte said. "We'll just be another minute."
"It's okay, Mom," said Maddy quietly.
Mrs. Ruby sighed. "Okay, Charlotte. I'll be back up in one minute." She shook her head and then left. Charlotte and Zee exchanged a look. Charlotte was beginning to feel very sweaty. Maddy murmured, "Anyway, Char, we can wait on the math…"
"No, no," Charlotte said, reaching into her pocket. "It's not math. I just wanted to give you some pictures of Bartholomew… I thought they might make you feel better."
"Oh!" Maddy said. "Yeah! Let me see…" Charlotte held the pictures up to her friend, heart in her throat. "Zee, would you mind bringing over that lamp?" She motioned to the bedside table. "It should reach."
Zee moved quickly over to the table. Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut. She heard the sound of her cousin clicking on the lamp and then moving it toward them. She felt the beam of the light on her. Maddy started cooing over the pictures, and Charlotte slowly opened her eyes. She knew exactly what she would see; she had known all along. There were shadows from the photos, from Zee, and from Charlotte, but Maddy cast no shadow at all.
On the way home Charlotte and Zee walked close together through the dusk, talking in whispers. Zee seemed strangely relaxed; Charlotte supposed it helped that someone believed him finally. Charlotte was not relaxed at all, not one bit. Her mouth tasted sour, her stomach was burning, and her heart had expanded to six times its normal size. She shook her head.
"I don't understand," Charlotte said.
"Neither do I, really," said Zee.
"Why would someone take kids' shadows?"
"I don't know," said Zee.
"And why would it make everyone so sick? I mean, it's just… a shadow. It's not real. Is it?"
"I don't know," said Zee.
"Maybe they are real. I mean, how can you take them if they're not real?"
"I don't know," said Zee.
"But that's really weird," said Charlotte. "I mean, even if they are real, why would you want them?"
"I don't know," said Zee.
"I mean, it's obviously something evil. It has to be."
"I don't know," said Zee.
"And why are they following you? I mean, they clearly are."
"I don't know," said Zee.
"And what would they want with shadows, anyway?"
Zee stopped. He turned and looked at Charlotte.
"Look," he said. "I've been thinking about this for a long time. A long time. Constantly. And I just don't know. It doesn't make any sense. I can't figure it out, and I don't see any way to figure it out. But"-he stepped closer and looked her in the eyes-"that doesn't matter. There's only one thing that matters."
"What's that?" Charlotte asked.
"How are we going to save everyone?"
Charlotte blinked. She had nothing to say to that.
"We're the only ones who know what's going on," Zee continued. "And no one will believe us. Something really bad is happening, and we need to stop it and we need to save everyone. Or"- he shrugged -"at least I do." He appraised her.
Charlotte still didn't speak. She felt distinctly like vomiting.
"Anyway" Zee started walking again. "This has got something to do with me. It's my responsibility. And I might be immune. For some reason they're not attacking me. I don't know why. I was the only one who didn't get sick in Exeter and in London, wasn't I? Of course, that doesn't mean…"
"What?" Charlotte said.
"Well…" He looked at her frankly. "I don't know whether or not they would attack you."
"Oh." Charlotte contemplated this for a moment. It sounded quite unpleasant. She bit her lip.
"Hey," Zee said suddenly. "Did you hear something?"
She hadn't. Something else had occurred to her. "You know," she said slowly, "those guys. The men. I think I've dreamed about them."
"What?" Zee exclaimed. He stopped and stared at her.
"I swear. When you mentioned them before. It sounded so familiar. And I've just figured it out. I've dreamed about them."
"Like, how?"
"I think… they were sucking me into the earth." She shuddered. "Like Persephone."
"Sorry?"
"Oh. English. Greek myths. We were doing the underworld before you got here. We were talking about how Hades kidnaps Persephone and makes her his queen, and I guess I dreamed about that."
"Weird!" He thought for a minute. "So you were having a dream about something you were talking about in English, and those men were in it."
"Yeah."
"Maybe they have the power to work their way into normal dreams?"
"Maybe," said Charlotte.
"I dream about doors," Zee added offhandedly.
"Doors?"
"All the time. I'm always opening doors. It could be -" Zee stopped and looked around again. "There. You didn't hear anything?"
"No," said Charlotte.
Zee leaned in. "Come on," he whispered. "Let's go home."
And then Charlotte did hear something. Something sibilant and sneaky, something creepy and close. Her stomach dropped into her intestines. And she felt something too, something shadowy and sinister. Her skin began to prickle…
"Zee!" she exclaimed.
"Run!"
But it was too late. There, right in front of them, were two man-like men, with gray-white skin and dead-looking yellow eyes set in a face like a skeleton's. Charlotte screamed, and the men smiled and bowed-and if you asked Charlotte, that was the creepiest part of all.
The cousins turned as one and began to run in the opposite direction. Charlotte was struck with the feeling that she was about to be sucked into the earth. Or worse.
She thought she was still screaming, but the world seemed absolutely silent all of a sudden. She could feel her feet running, but she wasn't sure she was moving. All seemed strange and still. She knew, somehow, that if she looked behind her, the man-like men would still be standing, still smiling, just as close as they were before.
The world was a lonely, terrible, cold place – and utterly silent.
Then, suddenly, a sound burst into the night-a loud motor, a squeal of tires, then a bright light. A car turned the corner and barreled down the street toward them. Charlotte and Zee ran toward it; Charlotte wanted to jump in front of it because getting hit by a car was surely better than what was about to happen to her.
She could hear her voice again and could feel her feet pounding against the pavement. She ran toward the car and heard her cousin doing the same. She didn't know where the men were, and she didn't want to look back to find out.
The car squealed to a stop right in front of them, the passenger door flew open, and a voice yelled, "Get in!" Charlotte gasped. It was Mr. Metos.
CHARLOTTE AND ZEE SAT SIDE BY SIDE IN THE passenger seat of Mr. Metos's battered old sedan. Charlotte felt like her organs had been ripped from her body. Zee didn't look much better.
"What were you kids doing outside?" Mr. Metos muttered. He didn't sound like he wanted an answer.
It took Charlotte some time to regain power of thought. She sat huddled next to her cousin, who had his eyes closed and was slowly breathing in and out, as if to reassure himself that he still could.
They drove on in silence, block after block.
Charlotte put her brain back in place, then her throat, then her heart and lungs, then her stomach. It took some time to untangle her intestines, which seemed to be intertwined with her kneecaps.
That done, Charlotte could focus on her immediate situation. She had a thousand questions. As in, what on Earth was Mr. Metos doing there, what were they doing in Mr. Metos's car, and what in the world was going to happen to them now? Charlotte had a strange urge to open the door and run all the way home, grab Bartholomew, hide under the bed, and never ever, ever come out.
But then she would never find out the answers to these thousands of questions, and frankly, she really wanted to know, and besides, she didn't have any breath left to run.
Mr. Metos did not seem in a particularly chatty mood. He was a lot less frightening than the man-like men, but that really wasn't saying much.
Charlotte gulped. "Um, where are we going?" she asked quietly.
"To my apartment," Mr. Metos said brusquely. "We have much to discuss."
Charlotte's heart flipped. "I'm supposed to be home for dinner," she whispered.
Mr. Metos raised his eyebrows and just kept driving. Charlotte huddled closer in to her cousin, who looked nearly catatonic. Eventually they pulled up behind a small white brick apartment building in a neighborhood full of such buildings. The only thing that distinguished this one from the others was a big sign that read, IF YOU LIVED HERE, YOU WOULD BE HOME BY NOW.
Charlotte could not argue with that logic.
Mr. Metos parked right next to the building. Zee awoke from his coma and dutifully began to open the passenger door, but Mr. Metos whispered harshly, "Don't." Zee quickly shrank back in his seat, and Charlotte didn't know whether to be comforted or even more frightened that Zee seemed scared of Mr. Metos too.
Charlotte and Zee watched while Mr. Metos got out of the car, closed the door softly, and began to walk slowly around the parking lot. He stopped a few times, looking around carefully. Finally he walked up to the passenger door, opened it, and hurried them out.
"Quickly, now," he said, ushering them to the building door. Up a flight of stairs they went, then another, then another, feet echoing noisily in the concrete stairwells. The lights buzzed and flickered overhead. Charlotte was conscious of Mr. Metos behind them, moving them with his gaze.
When they got to Mr. Metos's apartment, Charlotte immediately thought it looked a great deal like his classroom-small, dark, and bare. There was a little, brownish kitchen to the right, in the sitting room was a tan couch on which rested a bed pillow and a folded-up blanket, and to the left Charlotte could see a room that seemed to be filled entirely with books. And right in front of her, on the counter, sat a small phone. And that reminded her:
"I have to call my mom. She'll think…" Charlotte gulped a little. "She'll think something happened to us."
It wasn't until she had finished dialing that Charlotte realized she had no idea what to say to her mother, who of course picked up on the first ring. Charlotte was a good liar, but really, how on earth was she supposed to come up with a plausible narrative if her mother picked up on the first ring? "Mom, hi!" she gasped. "Um, we ran into our English teacher walking home from Maddy's, and he invited us over to dinner…"
There was a pause. "Your father made turkey burgers," said Mrs. Mielswetzski flatly.
"Um, it's extra credit," said Charlotte. As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she winced. It was her worst lie ever.
Mrs. Mielswetzski just sighed heavily. "Oh, well… they'll keep. Mr. Metos will be driving you home, I hope?"
"I'm sure," Charlotte grimaced.
"You better let me talk to him."
Charlotte panicked. "He's in the bathroom!" she said. "He's been there awhile! Um, I have to go. We'll be home in a couple hours." And she threw the phone back on its hook as if it were burning.
She looked up, blushing. That had not been her best performance. Mr. Metos was looking at her oddly. Zee was still standing in the entrance, staring at the door (which was also odd) and hugging his coat around him. It was awfully cold in there. Charlotte was suddenly conscious again of being a human, one who felt cold, hunger, exhaustion, and tremendous thirst. She stood by the kitchen and bit her lip. Mr. Metos was standing a little awkwardly, looking at both of them as if he'd never seen human children before.
"Um," Mr. Metos said, "you can sit down over there." He motioned to the furniture brusquely. Charlotte guessed he didn't entertain a lot. She nudged Zee, and together they plopped down on the sofa, which was awfully squishy. Charlotte wanted to wrap the folded-up blanket around herself, but she had a feeling that it was what Mr. Metos slept with, and that was just… icky.
Mr. Metos went over to the small kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. Then he moved into the living room and proceeded to drink it. Charlotte gulped.
"Uh, Mr. Metos?" she said in a very, very high voice. "Could I… could I have something to drink?"
Mr. Metos blinked rapidly. "Oh. Yes. Of course." He stood up and went to the kitchen. "Um. I have vegetable juice or, well…"
"Water would be fine," said Charlotte.
When Mr. Metos handed her a glass -which she had to share with Zee, who was looking at it longingly-Charlotte noticed that he couldn't seem to meet her eyes, and he might even have stammered a little. He was nothing like the teacher who stared down kids in class and made Charlotte fear for her neck. He was acting like one of the weird kids in gym class who always got picked last for the team. In this small, dark, underfurnished apartment he didn't seem like a monster anymore, but like a man. A kind of weird, very pale, socially retarded, vegetable-juice-drinking man.
Or perhaps once you've been chased by freakish, eight-foot-tall, skeleton-like goons in tuxedos, your creepy English teacher just isn't as scary anymore.
But just as Charlotte was finishing these thoughts, Mr. Metos seemed to regain himself. He leaned against the half wall in front of them and looked them over. "All right," he said. "Let's just get to the point. I'm going to tell you something, and this is going to sound very strange, but I must assure you that it is the absolute truth." He seemed to be regaining his teacherly composure, Charlotte noticed, now that he was instructing again. "Those men who were chasing you, well… they were trying to steal Charlotte's shadow"
A moment of silence. Mr. Metos looked probingly at both of them. Charlotte glanced at Zee, who glanced back at Charlotte. "We know," Charlotte said.
Mr. Metos blinked. "You know?"
They both nodded.
"I see." Mr. Metos raised his eyebrows. "What else do you know?"
"Well…" Charlotte bit her lip. "That's about it."
Then-slowly, carefully-Mr. Metos told them many things that they did not know. Like that the whole Greek mythology thing was actually true; they weren't myths at all. The Underworld was real too, all of it. And now there was a guy, a Phil something, and he was trying to stage a coup in the Underworld-with the help of twelve creepy man-like Footmen formed of clay and an entire army of shadows.
Well.
Upon reflection Charlotte decided that she was taking it all rather well. Which shouldn't have been too much of a surprise; after all, the day had been full of bends to the mind, and other parts of the body too, and Charlotte had really already been as surprised as she possibly could be. There was no more surprise left. Okay, Greek myths real. Underworld real. Coups with shadow army, creepy men made of clay, and Mr. Metos drinks vegetable juice.
Fine.
Charlotte pondered it all for a while, and Zee appeared to be pondering too in an equally unsurprised kind of way, and Mr. Metos watched them both ponder, perhaps surprised at their unsurprisedness -until Charlotte thought of something that did, indeed, surprise her.
"Hey," she said. "How do you know all this?"
Mr. Metos cleared his throat. "Well… there are those in the Underworld whose only loyalty is to money."
"Oh." Charlotte was wise in the ways of the world, and she got his meaning, though she couldn't help thinking that maybe Mr. Metos should spend a little less of his money bribing people and a little more on furniture. Still, it wasn't what she meant. "No, I mean… why do you know all this?"
"Ah. Well… I suppose you have a right to know. But this must be kept between us. Do you swear to me that you will keep this information to yourselves?"
They both nodded.
Mr. Metos stood up pedagogically straight and took a deep, loud breath through his nasal passages. "I am a descendant of Prometheus," he proclaimed. He eyed Charlotte and Zee. "We are sworn to protect humans against the whims of their creators. It is quite a task."
Now Charlotte was surprised. "You're a god?"
Mr. Metos cringed. "A Titan, Charlotte. Not a god. I have Titan blood, yes. A little, though I am mortal. More important, I have the charge of Prometheus. The gods created man but do not help him. They're like parents who abandon their children. Humanity is nothing but a plaything to them, and now, Philonecron is treating people like lab rats. The whole history of man is just like this, the gods…"
But Charlotte had stopped paying attention. She'd been watching Zee, who had been quite quiet during this whole affair-even more so than usual. He didn't seem to be listening either-he was deep in thought and, once again, happy to let Charlotte do all the talking. Really, he was always deep in thought. He had been since she had met him. There were moments of irrational exuberance at school, but the rest of the time Zee was completely absent from the world around him. He stood in corners of rooms and hid in the shadows as if he weren't there at all. But where was he?
"Zee," she hissed. "Did you know this?"
He looked blank. "Sorry?"
"About Mr. Metos?"
Zee shook his head.
"But"- Charlotte scooted closer to him on the couch-"you knew his name. When I first mentioned him. And you were talking to him for so long after class that first day."
"Just about school things," Zee said, eyes wide.
Mr. Metos cleared his throat loudly. "If I might interrupt." He looked pointedly at Charlotte. "I took the opportunity on Zachary's first day to ask him some questions. It helped me unravel a few mysteries. I knew the Footmen had gone from England to here, but I did not know why. Zachary, I believe your grandmother's death was the moment when this all started. I believe they were present at her death and took notice of you. Then they began to follow you… tell me, after your grandmother's death did you ever feel strange? Weak?"
"Yes…" Zee was looking slightly dazed.
"They took your blood," said Mr. Metos. "They were using it to locate you and follow you."
"Oh…"
"But," Charlotte said, "why are you here? How did you know?"
"I just followed the Footmen," Mr. Metos answered. "I came when they did."
"That doesn't make any sense," protested Charlotte. "The men didn't come until Zee was here. You've been here all year."
"They were here long before that, Ms. Mielswetzski."
"But how? You just said they used Zee's blood."
"Charlotte, you must understand that in death, as well as life, blood is everything. The Footmen entered the Upperworld and used the scent of Zachary's blood to find Zachary and follow him in order to find children. Then, for some reason, the Footmen chose not to follow Zachary anymore. Perhaps they thought they had found all the shadows they were going to find in London, though that seems odd. I do not know. But suddenly they moved here, where the smell of Zachary's blood would lead them to another child that they could follow. You, Charlotte. Zachary's blood relative."
"Oh," Charlotte said.
"The Footmen have been following you, Charlotte, and taking shadows from the children you lead them to. Though I still don't know why they moved on from London."
"It was because of me," Zee said quietly. "I saw them. And then I was hiding. I didn't leave the house."
Mr. Metos nodded slowly. "Well, yes, that would do it. They didn't have you to lead them to the shadows anymore. So they found Charlotte. But now with you here they don't need Charlotte anymore…"
He trailed off ominously, and nobody spoke for a few moments, thinking of all the places Mr. Metos might have gone from there.
"Mr. Metos?" Zee broke into the silence, his voice high and hesitant. "Did you, um, know my grandmother? Dalitso Winter?"
"Your grandmother? No. Why?"
"Oh." He shook his head slightly. "Never mind." Charlotte raised an eyebrow and looked at him, but Zee had retreated back into his pondering and clearly had no intention of elaborating. Well, whatever it was, she would get it out of him later.
"Well," Mr. Metos said, "the Footmen are here. They have collected a great number of shadows, and they will keep collecting them until Philonecron is satisfied. Perhaps they already have enough. I do not know. What I do know is that it's extremely important that you, Zachary, and you, Charlotte, stay safe. I believe they were trying to take Charlotte's shadow-or Charlotte herself- in order to lure you into the Underworld, Zachary. I believe they need you, Zachary, because of your blood. I believe they need you to utter the spell that will bring the shadows to life. Blood is everything, and they are using your blood to enchant the shadows. They need you for the final step."
Zee looked up. "I won't do it."
Mr. Metos said gently, "Unfortunately, Zachary, Philonecron has your blood, and he knows how to use it. Philonecron has been working with your blood, and I believe he can manipulate your will."
"What?" Zee asked.
"I believe he can control you. I believe once you get down into the Underworld, Philonecron can make you do exactly what he wants you to do. He knows how to talk to your blood, as it were."
Zee stared at Mr. Metos, horrified. Charlotte shuddered. "Mine, too?" she whispered.
"I don't know. You and Zachary don't have the same blood, but it is similar. I think he would have some power over you, but it wouldn't be as overwhelming as it would be for Zachary."
Zee was shaking his head slowly. Charlotte had a sudden urge to reach out to him, but she didn't dare.
"Listen to me very carefully," Mr. Metos continued. "He can make you do what he wants, Zachary. If he can lead you down to the Underworld, he will have all he needs to make his shadow army. And then, for the first time in history, there will be war in the Underworld.
And that is a war I do not want to see, because I am not sure Hades can win."
"Well, why does it matter?" Charlotte piped up suddenly. "So what if he overthrows Hades? It doesn't sound like he's so great."
Mr. Metos's gaze turned to her. "Well, Charlotte, if the shadows are sent into battle and destroyed, their owners will die. If Philonecron overthrows Hades, he will send your newly dead friends and all the rest of the Dead into a part of the Underworld that really is hell. Hades has no interest in the Dead, but at least he doesn't want to punish them. Philonecron wants all the Dead to spend eternity in torment. And since we will all one day die…"
Zee sat up. "He can't. He can't!"
It was the loudest he'd ever been, and Charlotte stared openly at him. And then she remembered his grandmother, and she gulped and looked at the floor, while Mr. Metos said softly, "I will not let him, Zachary. Now," he continued, "I want you two to stay inside the house. Do whatever you have to do, but they will have a harder time taking you from there. They need one of you, and I'm sure they wouldn't mind having both of you."
"But-" Zee exclaimed.
Mr. Metos held up his hand. "I am going to go down to the Underworld and stop Philonecron. I believe I can free the shadows, and then they will naturally go back to their owners. With no shadows, he has no army."
"How?" Charlotte asked. "How do you get down there? How are you going to free the shadows? How-"
"That is not your concern," he said sternly. "Ms. Mielswetzski, your concern is staying safe and keeping Zachary safe. I am counting on you."
Charlotte nodded. On any normal occasion she would have resented being condescended to-she was perfectly capable of doing things on her own-but in the case of going into the Underworld and taking on some evil Greek god named Phil, she'd let the adults take care of that one.
Mr. Metos drove them home, and they rode in the car in utter silence. Zee was off in his own Zee world again, and Charlotte was lost in images of the Underworld, drawn in gray and shadow
When they arrived in front of the Mielswetzskis', Charlotte asked quietly, "How… how do we know when it's safe?"
"I'll come by," Mr. Metos said. "It won't be long. A day or two. I will be back."
Charlotte closed her eyes for a moment and an image of the Footmen appeared in her mind- they were there, behind her, reaching for her, ready to suck her into Death.
Her eyes popped open. "And.. she didn't know she was going to say the words until they were out of her mouth -"will you be okay?"
Mr. Metos almost smiled. But not quite. "I will," he said firmly "I will."
As they hurried up the path to her house, Mr. Metos watching carefully from the street, Charlotte found herself unconsciously wanting to take Zee's hand, but she didn't. Instead she clutched her arms around her chest and made her way quickly to the door.
BARTHOLOMEW, FOR ONE, WAS GLAD TO SEE THEM home. When Charlotte opened the door, the kitten came bounding down the stairs and leaped toward Charlotte and Zee, landing just at their feet. She proceeded to rub herself against their legs, purring madly.
"She, for one, is glad to see us," Charlotte remarked under her breath, reaching down to pet her kitten.
Her mother, on the other hand, was not as glad. Or rather, she was delighted to see them safe and sound, but she had been worried because they were late and Charlotte had sounded so strange on the phone, and who was this Mr. Metos anyway, and what did Charlotte think keeping her cousin out with his massive head injury, and did anyone think of the turkey burgers?
Lecture received and apologies given, Charlotte led Zee into the kitchen, where Mr. Mielswetzski was cleaning up from dinner. He was not delighted, per se, to see them, but he was much less emphatic, and that was all right with Charlotte.
"What's with Mom?" she whispered. Zee hung back, looking uncomfortable.
"Oh, Char, she's worried," Mr. Mielswetzski said. "This flu thing has got her shaken, and she wants to keep an eye on you. She can't help it. We can't help it. You'll understand when you have kids."
Charlotte raised her eyebrows.
"Be patient with your old parents, my girl. We worry about you. That's all. If we act a little hysterical at times, it's just because we love you so much."
Charlotte's eyebrows sank. She looked at the ground. "Okay, Dad," she said quietly. Once upon a time there was a girl named Charlotte who suddenly felt a great attachment to her home.
"Now, can I get you anything?"
She and Zee exchanged a look. They had so much to discuss, but it suddenly occurred to Charlotte that there was a great beast gnawing its way through her stomach, and it would eat her and then Zee and then the whole house if she didn't get it some other sustenance quickly. From the way Zee looked at her-a sort of pleading wooziness – she guessed he felt the same way and simply didn't have it in him to say so.
"How about some of those great turkey burgers, Dad?" Charlotte asked.
"Coming right up," he said, flipping his spatula.
They ate quickly and quietly, the only sound the flatulent squeaking of the ketchup bottle. Charlotte tried to keep her mind off everything that had happened that day, otherwise she might vomit up the very delicious burger, and then she would be scared and hungry and vomity. Better just to try to focus on the dinner at hand.
But the quiet ended when the kitchen door opened and Mrs. Mielswetzski came through. She took one look at Charlotte and Zee and their ketchup-dripping turkey burgers. "What are you doing?" she exclaimed. "I thought your English teacher made you dinner? For"-and here she began to articulate very carefully - "extra credit?"
Charlotte's eyes popped. "He did!" she said quickly. "But… we're still hungry. There wasn't a lot of food. He's a vegan."
"Oh, is he, now?" Mrs. Mielswetzski squinted at Charlotte. Was she finally, after all these years, beginning to catch on?
It was time to change the subject. Charlotte put down her burger and gazed at both of her parents earnestly "Listen, Mom? Dad? I'm really sorry for worrying you. And I know things are scary right now And Zee and I have talked about it"- she glanced at her cousin, who was staring at her with apprehension-"and we've decided we'll stay close to home the next few days. Until they figure out this flu. Okay?"
The faces of both senior Mielswetzskis softened at Charlotte's words, enough so she felt a little guilty for not being entirely truthful. But what was she supposed to say to them? There's a guy named Phil, and he wants Zee to enchant a shadow army to overthrow Hades, who really is King of the Dead, it's not just made up, and he's got some evil Footmen who are going to steal my shadow or kidnap me to get Zee down there, or something, we're not quite sure, but we know it's bad, so we're just going to stick around the house, okay? Home is, after all, where the heart is. And it's where the scary men aren't.
Meanwhile, Zee had that look on his face, the one that read, I really want to protest but I can't because I'm British, but she would have expected that. Zee wasn't a stay-put kind of guy. He was a talk softly (or not at all), run-out-and-solve-everything-himself-because-it-was-all-his-fault kind of guy. Well, not anymore, if Charlotte had anything to say about it. It was her job to watch him; Mr. Metos had said so. There was trouble, serious, apocalyptic trouble, and she was going to stay as far away as possible. Once upon a time there was a girl named Charlotte and she couldn't do anything right and she was a coward, and she was perfectly fine with that, frankly, because sometimes things are bigger than you. Going to France and living on her own and taking photography classes was one thing; going to the Underworld was something entirely different.
After dinner Charlotte and Zee sneaked upstairs, with Bartholomew sneaking right behind them. Charlotte led Zee (and the kitten) into her room and shut the door behind them-this was one conversation she did not want overheard; she couldn't very well look after her cousin if she was in a loony bin, could she?
Before sitting down, Charlotte turned on all the lights in her room, including the lamps, then she perched on her bed, picking up a bright pink, furry pillow and wrapping her arms around it. Zee sat on the foot of the bed, and Charlotte tossed him a pillow too, just in case. Bartholomew hopped up between them. The cat sat up, looking attentively at Charlotte.
The room felt so heavy, and Charlotte's lungs did not seem quite up to the task of taking in the air. Zee looked to be having trouble too; he kept inhaling loudly and forcefully, almost as if to demonstrate that he still could. They sat for a time, trying to relearn the art of breathing.
After a while Zee picked up the purple pillow and began to play with the fur. He sighed heavily "All I do is hide in the house," he said quietly.
Charlotte looked up. "Well…it's important!"
Zee shook his head. "There are men attacking my friends, and I hide in the house." He hit his hand against the pillow. Bartholomew started and turned her blue eyes on him watchfully.
"Well, look!" Charlotte exclaimed. "By hiding, you actually helped everyone. The Footmen left London because you weren't going anywhere, you weren't leading them to anyone."
Zee shrugged. "And they came right over here and began to attack everyone." Charlotte looked at the bed. "It's ironic, isn't it? They found me because Gran died. And she's the only one who'd know what to do."
"She knew about Greek stuff?"
"No, no… she just… I don't know. She knew things. She'd know what to do."
"Oh," Charlotte said, as if she understood, which she didn't. She casually reached over and began to scratch Bartholomew on the head. "So… what was that about your grandmother and Mr. Metos?"
"What? Oh!" Zee shook his head and looked away. "Nothing. It wasn't anything… just a guess…"
Charlotte eyed him. He started twisting the strands on the pillow. He really didn't seem to Charlotte to be the type to have a lot of hunches, but she didn't think she could get anything else out of him now "Anyway," she said brightly, "we have someone who knows what to do. We have Mr. Metos. He knows all about this. He's going to take care of it. There's nothing for us to do."
Zee raised his eyebrows. "How do we know?"
"Huh?"
"How do we know he's going to take care of it? How do we know we can trust Mr. Metos? How do we know what he says is true?"
Charlotte blinked rapidly. That hadn't occurred to her and never would have occurred to her. Of course Mr. Metos was telling the truth. Who on Earth would make that up? She realized, too, that it had never occurred to her before that a teacher might lie, and then she felt a bit like a dork. "Why wouldn't we think so?" she asked. "Everything he said made perfect sense. He knew about the shadows, he knew about the men…"
"Yes, but"-Zee leaned in and whispered-"doesn't it seem awfully convenient that he was right there? I mean, he saved us just in time. How is that possible?"
"Well…" Charlotte paused. "I think he was following us. Watching us. Protecting us."
"Do we know that? How do we know if he's supposed to protect us or hurt us? Gran didn't…" He stopped and shook his head. "We don't know"
Charlotte squinted. "So… you want to just go out there? And do… what?"
"I don't know," Zee said. "But even if Mr. Metos is right, how do we know we're safe inside? I mean, why couldn't they just come in here and…" He trailed off
"What?"
"And, you know, take you. Or your shadow. Or whatever."
Charlotte bit her lip. She hugged her pillow a little tighter. "I just think we should listen to Mr. Metos…" She could hear how she sounded. All her life she'd been casting herself as some kind of heroine who would comport herself well in a story, if only there were one to be had-but now that there was danger and excitement and adventure, she was staying home.
"They took my blood, Charlotte!" Zee thumped his fist again. "They nicked my blood while I was sleeping, and they're using it to enchant an army made of the stolen shadows of people that I led them to… my friends… making them all incredibly sick. I have to do something!" He shook his head and quieted a bit. "Can't you see that?" he added, staring at her imploringly.
Charlotte's mouth hung open. It was the first time she had ever seen Zee talk like that. She didn't even know he had it in him. Any other time she'd compliment him or make fun of him or something, but on this particular occasion all she wanted to do was curl up on her bed with Bartholomew and cry. She swallowed. The air seemed only to be getting heavier. She didn't have a thing to say to Zee, nothing he would listen to, anyway, and she supposed, if she really thought about it, she could, yes, she could see what he was saying. And if she were in his position, she might feel the same way. Except she wouldn't be brave enough to say it.
"So… what are you going to do?" she asked quietly.
"I don't know," Zee said. "I don't know"
"Look. Let's just wait a couple days for Mr. Metos, okay? Just for a couple of days. We'll stay inside, and then they can't take any more shadows. So no one else can get hurt. And you can, you know… make sure they don't come for me."
That would have been a low blow if Charlotte hadn't actually meant it. As much as she wanted to keep her word to Mr. Metos, and thus save the world, she also didn't like the idea of having those men come for her in the middle of the night, taking her shadow or her blood, or quite possibly her entire self. She could close her eyes and feel the ground opening beneath her, feel herself being grabbed and dragged down…
"All right," Zee said. "Two days. But then I'm going to go out and… I don't know. Follow the Footmen. I can't sit here and do nothing, Charlotte. I can't."
She nodded softly "I know."
Charlotte had a hard time sleeping that night. Visions of nightmares danced behind her eyes, except the nightmares were real. Hideous man-like creatures made of clay clutched at her with their bird-claw hands, and she could not run, she could not move, she could not yell. Were they nightmares or visions? She had no idea- she would just find herself shuddering awake and looking at the clock and seeing only fifteen minutes had passed since the last time she had awoken.
So it was a refreshing change for Charlotte to wake up to the sound of a soft knock on her door. She opened her eyes, and her mother's head popped in the doorway.
"Charlotte?" she whispered. "Are you still awake? I saw the lights…"
"Oh… I must have fallen asleep with the lights on." This was technically true-she did, in fact, fall asleep with the lights on; no need to mention that it was on purpose.
Her mother smiled. "Let me turn them off."
"No… no… I'm not sleeping well. I might read for a while." The words just popped out of her mouth, but really it sounded like an excellent plan. No nightmares when you are reading! There are many wonderful things about reading, but surely that is one of the most wonderful of all.
"It's pretty late, sweetie," Mrs. Mielswetzski said kindly "Just a little, then try to get some sleep. Good night, my dear." And she disappeared.
"Mom?" Charlotte called quickly after her. "Will you tuck me in?"
Her mother reappeared in the doorway and smiled a motherly smile. "Of course, dear." Mrs. Mielswetzski sat on the edge of the bed and put her head on Charlotte's forehead. "I'm having trouble sleeping too. I just went down to drink some warm milk. It's strange tonight." She paused. "You know," she said, beginning to stroke Charlotte's hair, "you used to fall asleep with the lights on all the time when you were younger. You'd read into the night and just fall asleep. Your father and I would come in and find you clutching your book, and we'd tuck you in and turn out the lights. You never woke up, you were such a good sleeper."
Charlotte relaxed a little, letting her mother run her hands through her hair. Her eyes closed, her shoulders fell into her body, her bones sank into the bed. She exhaled.
"That's my girl."
"Do you know where Mew is?" Charlotte asked sleepily.
"She's prowling around downstairs." Mrs. Mielswetzski laughed a little. "She's strange tonight too! I don't know what it is. She keeps watching out the windows and growling."
Charlotte's eyes flew open. "Oh!" With a flash she remembered Mew's behavior earlier in the night, when they were leaving. She had not wanted them to leave. Almost as if she knew…
"Must be another cat out there or something," her mother said.
"Must be," Charlotte said weakly.
"Okay, honey, I'm going to try to sleep. You do the same, okay?" Mrs. Mielswetzski kissed her daughter on the forehead, tucked the blankets up, and headed to the hallway-leaving the lights on, which suited Charlotte just fine.
Charlotte had insisted on leaving her bedroom door ajar ever since she found Mew; it had been quite a change for her, as she had strictly been a sleep-with the-door-closed kind of girl. But it was an adjustment she was happy to make, and it didn't take too much time to train her parents -who were also suddenly sleeping with their door ajar. And as she left, Mrs. Mielswetzski obediently left the door open a crack, and Charlotte was glad because if someone was coming to take her, she would at least hear them coming…
Suddenly there was a loud crash downstairs. Charlotte jumped. Then she heard Mew let out a Mew yowl. Okay, she told herself. Just the cat. Must have knocked something over. A vase. Or something. Nothing to be afraid of.
Charlotte shivered in her bed. No, no, she could not read after all-all she could do was lie there thinking about all the things that might be coming and what they might sound like, and unfortunately, after an hour or so of this she did accidentally fall asleep. She fell asleep soundly this time, so soundly that when the footsteps came, she did not hear them. But anyway, the footsteps were not coming toward her, but rather heading through the hallway, down the stairs, through the front hall, and outside the door.
When she woke up, it was 2 A.M. and there was a cat standing on her face. The cat was looking in her eyes and yowling.
"Cat!" Charlotte said dumbly.
"Yowl," said the cat.
She willed herself to wake up. "What is it?"
"Yowl," said the cat.
Bartholomew started running to Charlotte's door and back to Charlotte. Charlotte got the point pretty quickly. She got up sleepily and followed Mew into the hallway.
Mew ran up to Zee's room. Charlotte followed. The door was wide open and the bed was empty. Charlotte gasped. Mew began to run back and forth up and down the stairs, then to the front door.
Charlotte looked at the cat, then at the door. She felt a lump in her throat. "We made a deal," she protested. "He wasn't going to go out. He was going to wait for two days. For Mr. Metos."
"Yowl," said the cat.
"Why did he go out? Did he go to find the Footmen? They'll take him! Why did he go out?"
"Yowl," said the cat.
"What should I do? Should I wake Mom and Dad? What should I do?"
"Yowl," said the cat.
"They won't believe me. And even if they did…" Charlotte shuddered. The Footmen took children's shadows. No one had mentioned what they would do to adults. She looked at Mew and gulped.
"I have to go out there, don't I? I have to find him. By myself."
Mew cocked her head.
"Not by myself?"
"Yowl," said the cat.
Charlotte felt tears in her eyes. She inhaled deeply. "Okay," she nodded. "Let's go."
Her cousin was in trouble and she was going to save him. She could do this. She could be brave. She could be the heroine. She could also be kidnapped by shadow-stealing goons and forced into the Underworld, but that's okay. Charlotte slipped on her sneakers, then opened the front door and, heart in her throat, gazed out into the cold, black night. There was nothing to see-just sleeping houses and dim streetlamps and empty streets. And darkness. And whatever lurked behind the darkness. She took a deep breath and stepped out into the night.
The wind blew past her, and her pink flannel pajamas seemed to quaver in its mighty presence. Charlotte hugged herself. She looked back toward the front door, behind which was her very thick, warm, cozy winter coat, and sighed. There was no time. She had to get to Zee before…
"Where to?" she asked Mew.
Mew stood on the front step, nose sniffing, ears rotating like satellite dishes. Charlotte did not let herself wonder where Zee had gone or whom/what he had found, because then she would not be able to leave that spot. Courage, she decided, depended quite a bit on a failure of imagination.
And then, suddenly, Mew sprang into the night. Charlotte took off after her. Across the street the cat ran, into the neighbors' yard, through the fence, behind the garage, out into the alley, and then through another yard, and Charlotte followed, the whole way, ripping her pajamas on a bush. They emerged at the other side of the block, then went rushing down the street. The wind seemed to freeze Charlotte's cheeks, her breath chilled against her mouth, but all she concentrated on was the gray and white kitten who charged on ahead of her and who, occasionally, would stop and wait until Charlotte was in sight, before tearing off again.
And then, four blocks from her house, she saw her cousin. He was a block ahead of them, dressed only in his pajamas, barefoot, and walking as if he were taking a nice evening stroll. Relief sprang up in Charlotte, along with a sudden urge to throttle him. But there was no time; the Footmen could come any minute, and she did not think Mr. Metos could save them now
"Zee!" Charlotte called. "Zee, wait up!"
Zee didn't even look behind him. He just kept going, as if he didn't hear her-or at least wanted it to seem that way.
But he didn't alter his pace, either, and Charlotte ran until she caught up to him. "Zee!" she said. "What are you doing?"
And still he kept walking. Mew was running in circles around his legs.
"Zee! What are you doing? Zee, you said we were going to wait! You promised!" She grabbed on to his shoulder, and only then did he stop.
"What?" he said. He shook his head. He blinked. "Charlotte?"
"Zee?"
Zee looked at Charlotte, then at himself, then at the world. "Where are we? What's going on?"
Charlotte gaped. "What are you doing?"
He looked around helplessly. "I have no idea…"
IF YOU ASKED CHARON-NOT THAT ANYONE EVER does-he'd tell you he gets a bad rap. The Ferryman for the Dead is widely considered, in both legend and life, to be rather, well, greedy. But really, if you look at all the facts, you can't blame him. He has a family to feed.
Everyone knows he has the worst job in the Underworld. He spends his days rowing back and forth along the Styx, listening to the Dead freak out because they're Dead and they had so much to live for, blah, blah, blah, and where in the heck are the Pearly Gates, anyway?
Actually, he kind of likes that last part.
But regardless, Charon has had his job since the beginning, the Very Beginning; when there first was an Underworld, there was Charon on the river Styx in his ferryboat. He doesn't remember anything before that.
In the Beginning it was a nice life. A few Dead here and there, and most of them knew enough to bring a little tip for the Ferryman. That's what civilized people do, you know. They tip. There's no such thing as a free ride.
But that is beside the point.
Which is:
That was the good old days, when it was just he, Thanatos, Hypnos, Hades, and the Erinyes. They'd pal around and drink wine and play cards, and Hades would tell lewd jokes. He knew so many! No one's ever known as many dirty jokes as Hades! Like, did you hear the one about Perseus and the Gorgon's head?
No?
Oh, anyway. Everything changed when Hades brought Persephone to the Underworld. He got all funny, the way men do. Started spending all his time in the Palace. Never hung out with the guys (or the winged she-demons) anymore. Stopped caring about the Kingdom. He gave Hypnos and Thanatos their fancy-dancy titles, and suddenly ol' Charon was just a grunt, just a laborer, just the Ferryman.
Oh, and then the Dead kept coming. More and more. Charon barely got any time off. He had to get a bigger boat, which he paid for with his own hard-earned money, mind you. Did he mention he had a family to feed?
Oh, and then the Underworld just kept getting bigger and bigger, and Hades tried to lure more Staff so he could sit on his bony butt and pitch woo to the Ice Queen. And Hades promised prospective employees all these lovely perks but didn't bother to tend to those who'd been there since the Beginning. You know how it goes. In with the new, forget the old. At least the Erinyes got to torture people.
He used to be fun, Hades did. A riot! Did you hear the one about Jason and the Golden Fleece?
No?
The point is, Charon had a family to feed. And he didn't have any of those bonuses or benefits or personal holidays or vacation time or paternity leave or anything else that everyone and their Aunt Fanny seemed to have. He depended on fares. Not that they were enough. With the family to feed.
So Charon developed a little side business. A trade of his own. Hades liked entrepreneurs, so Charon became one. He traded in the most valuable commodity there was:
Information.
Information! Ah, how he loves having it! How everyone else wants it! You want to know what your implets do after school? You want to know what your minions say when you're out of earshot? You want to know who is building a shadow army to take over the Underworld?
Really, he's providing a service. And if he happens to make a profit, to feed his family, well… can you blame him? Can you?
Actually, he doesn't have a family. He's more the solitary type. Brooding. A loner. Plus, a wife and kids are expensive.
But he digresses.
So, say you're one of those Promethian descendants and you wander on down to the Underworld. (Because let's face it: Everyone knows how to get in and out. Hades thought his precious Decree would stop people, but really, he doesn't know a thing that happens outside his Palace walls. All he does is sit on his scrawny bottom and make goo-goo eyes at the Ice Queen.)
Say you're one of those descendants of Prometheus. And you're sworn to protect humans against the whims of the uncaring gods, blah, blah, blah. And you get wind of some nefarious Underworld scheme. And you want more information so you can save your precious humans. Whatever do you do?
Well, you go down and see Charon.
But bring cash.
Charon knows. He knows everything. And for the right price he'll tell you.
Okay, now Say you are Charon. Say you give this guy all the information he wants. Say, in the process, because you are oh so subtle and clever, you get a little information from him. What do you do then?
Well, just follow these simple instructions:
Put a sign on your boat. BE BACK IN 15 MINUTES. It doesn't actually have to be fifteen minutes. The Dead have no sense of time. Let them wander around on the shores for a while. Builds character.
Find your subject. Approach him casually. You're buddies, right? Act like one.
Like this:
CHARON: Hey, how's it going?
SUBJECT: Good, good.
Excellent. Now tell a joke. Loosen him up.
CHARON: Hey, did you hear the one about Heracles and the Cerynitian hind?
Like that. Now start asking questions. Be casual.
CHARON: How's that shadow army?
As if you really want to know, because you care. About him. Everyone likes to be listened to. People want to talk about their evil schemes. Just give them the chance.
SUBJECT: Just about done.
CHARON: Wow! That's amazing.
Flattery will get you everywhere.
SUBJECT: It truly is. The army, you should see them. They're so beautiful. I almost hate to send them out…
CHARON: When are you going to?
SUBJECT: I just need to get my Zero down here to utter the final words of the spell.
CHARON: Oh.
Pause. Think for a moment. Ask innocently:
CHARON: And how are you going to do that?
SUBJECT: I've been sending him dreams. Vivid ones.
CHARON: {Innocent. Wide eyed. Appreciative!} Wow! I thought only Hypnos could do that.
SUBJECT: I've learned a few skills here in Exile. The boy will be down here soon. He may be asleep, but he'll be here.
See? They brag! It's the most wonderful thing!
So you nod. You smile. You praise him some more. You sidle up close to him. Your smile grows. You whisper tantalizingly:
CHARON: I know something you don't know.
SUBJECT: You do?
CHARON: Yup.
Pause.
SUBJECT: What is it?
CHARON: It's gonna cost you.
Really, that's the best part. It's gonna cost you! It's gonna cost you! And he, your subject, is waiting, hungering, practically drooling for your information! And he inevitably says:
SUBJECT: How much?
CHARON: This is pretty great information.
Shake your head. Like you can't believe how great it is. Like it's so great it's going to cost him a lot.
Your subject will sigh, reluctantly, and offer you a price. Double it. Triple it if he's a raging egomaniac with a freaky evil plan for taking over the Underworld. He'll refuse. Shake your head, sigh, nod like you understand, and walk away slowly. He will inevitably say:
SUBJECT: Wait!
Turn gently, slowly, casually.
CHARON: Yes?
SUBJECT: All right, I'll pay.
Ah, now you have him. Lean close and whisper in his ear.
CHARON: Have you ever heard of the descendants of Prometheus?
Tell your story. Watch his eyes bug out. It is, after all, very good information. When you are done, collect your sizable fee and head back to your boat. Later you will go to the Palace and visit the scrawny, bony, woo-pitching, goo-gooeyed Hades and tell him you know something he does not.
ZEE'S DESIRE TO GO OUT AND CONFRONT THE footmen lessened significantly after his sleepwalking adventure, or so he told Charlotte as they huddled up in his room afterward. Charlotte thought that sounded pretty sensible.
"Do you remember anything?" Charlotte asked.
"No," Zee said. "I was dreaming. I had to go somewhere… I had to open a door to get there, and I was heading to that door. That's all I know"
"Do you know where the door was? Or what it led to?"
Zee shook his head helplessly. Sighing heavily, he leaned back against the wall, then thumped his head against it for good measure. Charlotte raised her hand to the back of her head sympathetically.
After a minute or so Zee asked, "How did you find me?"
"Bartholomew!" Charlotte said. She told Zee the whole story, from waking up to find Mew on her face, to the cat's leading her right to Zee. Zee's face grew more and more incredulous, while Charlotte happily stroked the kitten, who was sleeping the sleep of the innocent.
When Charlotte had finished, Zee said quietly, "Doesn't that seem a little… weird?"
"Weird?" Charlotte said blankly.
"Amazing, even?" Zee studied her carefully. "Doesn't that seem like really amazing behavior for a cat?"
"Well, she's a great cat," Charlotte protested. Zee gave her a look, and she sighed. "Okay, yes. It is amazing behavior for a cat."
With that, Charlotte leaned against the wall. She and Zee alternated between casting sidelong looks at each other and staring off into space. She was always imagining people and things as supernatural somehow, but she was never really serious.
Finally Zee exhaled and asked, "So, are there any cats in Greek myths?"
"Not that I know of," Charlotte said. "There's an Egyptian cat. Bastet. I don't know anything about that, though." Elizabeth had a cat named Bastet, and Elizabeth said she was named after the Egyptian cat goddess, and that formed the beginning and the end of Charlotte's knowledge.
"Egyptian," Zee said dismissively.
"Yeah. No Greek. Maybe when Mr. Metos comes back, we can ask him?" She sneaked a look at Zee, who sneaked a look back at her. Both of them were thinking the same thing: When Mr. Metos comes back, or if he comes back? If those creeps could make a boy walk half a mile without even waking up, were they really going to be afraid of an English teacher? "Anyway, back to Mew"
"She-" Zee began, then stopped himself, blushing. "Well, Bartholomew," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I don't know how to say this, but…"
"What?"
He eyed the sleeping cat. "She's never, you know, said anything, has she?"
Charlotte's eyes popped out. Zee blushed again.
"Well," he protested, "weirder things have happened today." Charlotte could not argue with that. "Anyway. She doesn't talk… and she doesn't, you know, understand us?"
Charlotte considered. "I don't think so." She leaned down and whispered in the kitten's ear, "Do you understand us, baby?"
Mew was mum. Charlotte stroked her for a while, then looked at Zee and shrugged. "One thing we know, though…"
"What's that?" he asked.
Charlotte tilted her head. "Whoever she is, she's on our side."
Zee considered, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, she is." He smiled a little, and Charlotte could not help but smile too. Zee put his hand on the kitten and started stroking her neck; she stretched and yawned and turned over for a belly rub. Charlotte yawned too. Perhaps she could sleep a little tonight-it was only 4 A.M., no school tomorrow, she could get lots of sleep still. And there were certainly no more adventures scheduled for the night. If any Charlotte/shadow-stealing freak wanted to break into her house, surely it would have happened by now. She stretched and was about to tell Zee when he suddenly muttered, "Hey, what's this?"
"What?"
Zee had been running his cupped hands along Mew's front legs (something that she quite liked), but he'd stopped and was holding her right leg in his hand. Mew was gazing at him with a distinctly perplexed look. "Here. On her paw"
Charlotte looked. The bottom of Mew's paw was covered in a chalky substance. Charlotte pressed on the paw to extend the claws, and they, too, were covered in what looked like dried white mud.
"From being outside?" Charlotte asked.
Zee wet his finger and rubbed the paw He smelled his finger.
"I think it's… clay," he whispered. "And here, look!" Trapped on her claws were a few black silk threads. Charlotte and Zee gazed at each other.
Charlotte gulped. "There was a crash earlier, and she was yowling…" She sat up suddenly and grabbed Zee's hand. "Zee," she whispered urgently, "they were trying to get in the house!"
If, the next morning, Mr. and Mrs. Mielswetzski were surprised to find Zee sleeping on the floor of his room with pink bedding from Charlotte's bed, while Charlotte slept in Zee's bed, they did not say anything. (Charlotte had been perfectly happy to sleep on the floor, but Zee would have none of it. He went into Charlotte's room, got the comforter and the pillow, and made himself a nest on the floor. He would brook no argument; Zee was nothing but polite until you tried to infringe on his gentlemanliness.) If they were surprised that both of the children slept until eleven o'clock, they didn't mention it, either. Much to Zee and Charlotte's relief
When the two both stumbled downstairs at about eleven fifteen, they found Mr. Mielswetzski at the kitchen table reading the paper.
"I drove to work this morning to find they'd cancelled school," Mr. Mielswetzski explained. He motioned to the paper- the headline read, MYSTERIOUS FLU STRIKES AREA YOUTH, CLOSES SCHOOLS. Charlotte gulped. "Some kids there are sick too," he added. "Of course, nobody bothered to call the teachers." He stood up and smiled. "So, sleepyheads. Nice to be off for a day, huh? Do you want pancakes?"
Charlotte's stomach turned, and she shook her head. "Thanks, but I'm not really hungry, Dad."
"No pancakes? Suit yourself Zachary?… No? Okay! So, did you kids sleep well?"
Charlotte and Zee exchanged a look. "Not really," Charlotte said. "I had a really bad dream. I went downstairs for some water, and Zee was up too."
"I was!" Zee agreed.
"Yeah, and he let me sleep in his room." Her eyes grew wide. "It was a really, really bad dream."
"My poor girl," Mr. Mielswetzski clucked. "Sounds like everyone had trouble sleeping. I think Mew knocked something over, too, did you hear the crash? It scared the dickens out of me, I thought we were being robbed! Still can't figure out what she knocked over…"
"Uh-huh," Charlotte whimpered, pouring herself some orange juice.
"But then I went out like a light. I don't know what it was. Couldn't sleep, and then about one o'clock I was out like a baby! Your mother, too!"
"Uh-huh," Charlotte whimpered, pouring herself some cereal. She poured a bowl for Zee, too, who didn't seem very capable of doing much by himself that morning. He had slumped in a chair, and he looked as though some of his bones were on the verge of snapping in two. Charlotte poured him a nice big glass of juice, too.
She wasn't the only one to notice. "Are you all right, Zach?" her father asked. "You look a little frazzled this morning."
Zee paled-which was fairly impressive, as he had been pretty pale this morning to begin with. He looked at Charlotte helplessly.
"Probably from sleeping on the floor!" she said quickly. "Poor Zee, on the floor all night!… So, is Mom in her office?"
This Charlotte could do. She could come up with a convincing story in no time flat-yes, that Mr. Metos dinner had strained her powers a little bit, but she was under duress, okay? She could pour two bowls of cereal and a nice tall glass of orange juice for her freaked-out cousin and weave stories with a golden tongue. It was a small gift, a small space in the world that she could manage and call her own. It had nothing to do with staring down clay-made monsters or freaky, mind-controlling, power-hungry Underworld guys, but it was something, and in that moment she was safe.
"Well," Mr. Mielswetzski said, clapping his hands together. "We all have a day off! What shall we do?"
Charlotte sighed. "I don't know, Dad. I'm pretty tired. I think I'm going to read."
"Zachary?"
"Um, thank you, Uncle Mike," he said quietly. "I'm knack-beat, myself. I've got a pile of homework to do too."
"You kids are boring today!" Mr. Mielswetzski exclaimed. "Well… I'll go bother your mother." And that he did.
For the rest of the day Charlotte and Zee sat in Zee's room, pretending to read/do homework, and waited for some sign of Mr. Metos. Charlotte occasionally checked her shadow to make sure it was still there. Bartholomew stayed with them, sometimes sleeping, sometimes running in circles around the room or batting around the plastic cap from Charlotte's soda.
"Good footwork," Zee muttered, watching Mew.
They could not deny that she seemed genuinely to be a cat. As opposed to something else-a demon or a god or a descendant of somebody or something. She was just a cat. An amazing (and incredibly cute) cat. Charlotte had heard that cats were able to sense ghosts; maybe her behavior was perfectly cat-like. She would have to ask Mr. Metos when…
"When do you think he'll come?"
"I don't know," Zee said, shaking his head. There was no need for him to ask whom she was referring to.
Charlotte looked back down at her book and stared at the words for a moment, then looked up. "He's going to come soon, right? Today or tomorrow?"
"I don't know," Zee said.
"I wonder how he's getting down there. And how he'll get back."
"I don't know," Zee said.
"I wonder what he's going to do."
"I don't know," Zee said.
"What if he doesn't come?"
"I don't know," Zee said quietly. "I don't know"
They sat through the afternoon, into the early evening. Charlotte kept wanting to ask questions, and Zee kept wanting to sit quietly and think in his Zee way, so they compromised; Charlotte asked questions, and Zee stopped even trying to answer. Mrs. Mielswetzski popped in to say hello at one point. A few moments later Charlotte heard her say to Mr. Mielswetzski, "Those two are getting along so well! I was worried there for a while, but…"
They were called to dinner at six- turkey loaf with spinach and bread from the bread maker- and they ate quietly. Charlotte was conscious of her parents' eyes on the both of them. They were asking too-casual questions, and Charlotte parried the best she could. We're just tired. We didn't sleep well. No, no, were not sick. But it's hard, all of my friends. You know, were worried. Maybe that's why were not sleeping well. They didn't even try with Zee.
After dinner was done and the plates were cleared, Charlotte and Zee went back upstairs. They sat for a while, watching dusk turn to night, and wondering what that night might bring.
"Mom and Dad are catching on," Charlotte muttered to Zee after a time. "They know something's up."
"You handled it well," Zee said. "You're good at that, you know?"
"Lying?" Charlotte said.
"No… no… just always knowing the right thing to say. I never do."
"Are you kidding?" Charlotte exclaimed. "You're, like, Mr. Perfect. You're so polite and charming, and everyone loves you."
Zee raised his eyebrows.
"It's true. You're, like, the coolest guy in school. Ever since you got there, everyone's been following you around."
"Look, they like me because I'm the new guy. And I have a funny accent. It'd be the same if you came to my school. Of course… there are no girls in my school. But anyway, it doesn't mean anything. I don't have anything to say to them. And I can never talk my way through something. Not like you."
"You don't need to," Charlotte muttered. "Everyone just likes you."
"Well, they'd…" Suddenly he stopped himself, rather suspiciously Charlotte thought.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"What?"
He sighed. "Charlotte… do you actually… you know…" He trailed off and looked away.
"What?"
He swallowed. "Do you want to, you know, have people like you?"
Charlotte gaped. "What do you mean?"
Zee started to rub his face, looking rather like he wanted to rub himself away. "It's just… well…"
"Zee!"
"You don't really seem like you, you know, are that interested in other people…" Zee squeezed his eyes shut.
"What?!"
"I mean, everyone would like you. But they don't think you care one way or another… You can give off the impression of… oh… you know…"
Charlotte could not believe what she was hearing. Kids had been talking to Zee about her? Who? They'd said she was cold? That she was -what was the word her mother had used?-prickly? Charlotte was prickly? Charlotte wasn't prickly; she was, you know, careful.
"That's not true. I'm not like that!" She shook her head. "They're confusing me with Gretchen-the-goth-girl. "
"Gretch?" said Zee. "Naw, man, she's brilliant…" He caught himself and blushed furiously. "Charlotte, it's just… look…" But then he suddenly stopped, straightened, and turned his head toward the window "Did you hear something?"
The expression on his face made Charlotte entirely forget their conversation. Anyway, she'd been down this road before. "What? Where?"
"At the window"
Charlotte listened. There was a rustling, like a branch. Or, no, a tapping.
"Something's tapping on the window," she whispered.
Zee and Charlotte stared at each other. Charlotte bit her lip. Zee swallowed. "I better go see," he said quietly.
And so, with Charlotte holding her breath, Zee walked slowly up to the window. It could be a branch, Charlotte thought. A tapping branch. Or just the wind. Or something stuck against the window. It could be anything, really. Any other night if something were tapping against the window, it wouldn't scare Charlotte at all-it would just be a normal, everyday thing. Still, Charlotte squeezed her eyes closed as Zee opened the blind. And then he made a strange noise, somewhere between a gasp and a gurgle.
On the windowsill was a large black bird, staring right at them. Large, as in gigantic. Gigantic, as in enormous. Ginormous. Ginormous, as in a big black eagle-size bird with black, beady eyes. Did I mention that the eyes were looking right at Charlotte? The bird flapped its wings and tapped against the window
"More smart animals," Zee muttered.
The bird flapped again, then raised its leg. Something white fluttered in the breeze-it was a piece of paper, attached to the bird's leg.
"It's a note," Charlotte said.
Charlotte's heart went into her stomach, and her stomach went into her feet. Zee's mouth hung open uselessly. They looked back and forth at each other, then to the bird, which kept waving around the letter impatiently.
"I guess we should see what it says," Zee said, reaching over to open the window.
THE BLACK BIRD FLEW INTO THE ROOM WITH A whoosh. It perched on Zee's dresser and let out an emphatic squawk.
"Well, it doesn't seem evil," Charlotte said.
"Kind of friendly," Zee agreed.
"Squawk," said the bird. It raised its leg again, displaying the rolled-up note.
"That's a large bird," Charlotte said.
"Gigantic," Zee agreed.
"Squawk," said the bird, waggling its leg pointedly.
"I guess he wants us to take the note," Charlotte said.
"I guess so," Zee agreed.
"Squawk," said the bird, glaring at them. Charlotte was glad the door was closed.
Zee was closer, as Charlotte noted happily, so he approached the bird carefully and untied the note from his leg. The bird waited, holding his leg perfectly still. When Zee was done, the bird squawked again. He put his leg down and gazed at them from the dresser.
"He's waiting for something," Zee said.
"Maybe we're supposed to tip him?" Charlotte said.
"What do you tip a bird? Cheese?"
"I don't know," Charlotte said.
The bird tucked his head into his shoulder and proceeded to groom himself.
"Guess not," said Zee. "Well… should we read the note?"
"I guess so," said Charlotte.
Neither of them moved. If in every battle between evil, shadow-stealing geniuses, and good-hearted innocents there is a point of no return, this was that point, and they both knew it. Charlotte trembled a bit. The bird moved to his left shoulder and started to nibble.
"All right," Zee said heavily. And he unrolled the note. And he read. And he went green.
"What?" Charlotte said. "What?"
Zee shook his head wordlessly and passed her the note. Charlotte sucked in a breath and read:
Charlotte and Zachary -
I have been captured. It is up to you now. There is no other choice. Follow the bird; he will show you where to go.
– Metos
"Oh," said Charlotte.
"Yeah," said Zee.
Without Charlotte's noticing it, someone had taken her bones and slow-cooked them, and suddenly, right at that moment, they became jelly. Bone jelly. Charlotte sank onto the bed.
"Oh," said Charlotte.
"Yeah," said Zee.
The bird looked up, shook his head, and began to nibble at something on his neck.
Zee, who apparently had also fallen victim to the evil bone-jelly plan, fell against the wall and sank to the ground.
Time passed. The bird nibbled. Bones hardened again, took shape and purpose. The world sharpened before them. And Charlotte shook her head and said meekly:
"It's up to us now. We have to save everyone." And Zee nodded slowly.
Still they sat. The bird looked up, appraised the two of them for a moment, rolled his eyes, then starting working on his right wing, smacking a little as he did so.
"I guess it means… we're going down there," she said.
"I guess so," Zee said.
"Oh, goody" she said, putting her head in her hands and breathing in heavily. Zee leaned back and thumped his head against the wall.
"Okay, then," she said.
"All right, then," he said.
As one, they both sighed and stood up. The bird watched them carefully.
"Do you think we need anything?" Charlotte asked. Zee shrugged. "Warm clothes?"
"I'll be right back." Charlotte went into her room and grabbed the warmest sweater she could find. She reached into her bottom drawer and took out her allowance, which she tucked into the front pocket of her backpack. She emptied her school things out of the backpack, then she tiptoed down into the kitchen and grabbed four water bottles, a pack of cereal bars, and a box of Fruit Roll-Ups, which she stuffed into the backpack.
She paused on the stairs. She could hear her parents in the living room, the welcoming sounds of nighttime- the news on the television, coffee cups clinking against dishes, bursts of whispered conversation, Mew doing laps around the room. For a moment she thought she would go in and tell them everything, she would fall into their laps and they would hold her and tell her they were going to make it all right, she didn't have to worry about a thing. Charlotte closed her eyes and pictured doing that, tasted what it would be like, and then swallowed, and headed up to Zee and the black bird.
"I have to leave them a note," she whispered to Zee when she went into the room. "Mom and Dad. I don't know how long we'll be gone. They'll think…"
Zee nodded. "Yeah."
"What do I say?"
Zee shook his head, eyes wide.
Charlotte bit her lip. "May as well tell them the truth."
She wrote:
Dear Mom and Dad-
We know what's making everyone sick. We had to go save the world. We'll be back as soon as we can. We love you.
– Charlotte and Zee
She pursed her lips, thought for a moment, then added:
PS. Don't worry!!!!
"That's going to go over well," she muttered. "Now what?"
Zee looked at her, and they both looked at the bird, who raised his head imperiously.
"We can't go out the front door," Charlotte whispered. "They'll hear us."
The bird looked at the window, then looked back at them.
"Out… there?" she said. For a second she thought the bird was going to take them flying. The bird was big, but not that big.
Zee resolutely opened up the window, and the bird flew out and perched on the branch right outside. It squawked.
Zee and Charlotte got the message. They put on their sweaters; Charlotte left the note on Zee's bed, then slung her backpack on her shoulders and crawled out the window and onto the branch. Zee followed, closing the window behind him. They climbed down the tree and out into the street.
The leaves twitched, the branches itched, hearts pounded, and breaths sounded, so neither Charlotte nor Zee noticed Bartholomew, who had just run up the stairs at full speed, standing on the windowsill howling with all her might.
They crept silently through the street, the bird hovering just ahead of them. Charlotte could not help but note that they were going in the same direction that Zee had been heading the night before. Which, she supposed, made sense.
The streets were empty, and houses were tucking themselves in for the night, so nobody noticed the two children and the enormous black bird. Or if they did, they weren't telling.
The trio walked for twenty minutes, and then the bird suddenly circled around and perched on the back of a bus stop bench.
"What? Are we here?" Charlotte asked.
The bird hopped up and down on the bench.
"You want us to sit?" asked Charlotte.
"Squawk," said the bird.
Charlotte looked at Zee. "I think we're supposed to… wait for a bus?"
Zee threw up his hands, as if nothing would surprise him anymore.
So they sat. And they waited. It was late, and buses were few this time of night. After about twenty minutes one finally pulled up, and Charlotte and Zee stood, but the bird started squawking madly, flew around their heads (awfully close, if you asked Charlotte), and perched on the bench again.
So they waited. And waited some more. Charlotte took out a Fruit Roll-Up from her backpack. She offered one to Zee, who shook his head. Another bus pulled up, and still the bird sat. Then when the third bus came into view, the bird sprang from his perch, landing on the sidewalk. Charlotte and Zee stood up, and when the bus pulled up and the doors opened, the bird flew right in.
"How's that going to go over?" Charlotte muttered, counting her change.
But the bus driver didn't say a thing about the unusual passenger; he just watched Charlotte put her money in the till and waved them through.
The bird had made himself comfortable on one of the seats toward the back of the bus and was proceeding to have another nice bath. Charlotte and Zee sat down next to him.
"Where does this go?" Zee whispered.
"I don't know," Charlotte said. "I didn't even look…" She leaned up to check the bus number, then looked at the map. "It just goes into the southwest suburbs," she said. "Near the airport? Oh, great. I can just see taking the bird on a plane."
Zee let out a little laugh. Just a little.
A few stops down a man got on. He looked like one of the reasons Charlotte's mother didn't like her to take the bus at night. He was scruffy and thin, with a shabby trench coat (and honestly, if you're a creepy man on the bus, shouldn't you wear something besides a shabby trench coat? Really, it's so typical. Let's break form, shall we, people? Strive for originality!), and was carrying a plastic cup the size of Charlotte's head, from which he slurped very noisily through a straw. The contents did not look like soda to Charlotte. Though the bus was empty, he sat opposite Charlotte and Zee and stared directly at them. Charlotte looked away, but she felt the man's watery gaze still on her. Zee moved closer to Charlotte.
The man cleared his throat. "Nice bird," he rasped.
Charlotte drew herself up. "Thank you," she said formally "He's a messenger from the Underworld… He bites!"
The man started, muttered something, and got up and moved to the front of the bus. Charlotte wasn't sure, but she thought she saw Zee smiling to himself a little. Just a little.
They were in the suburbs now, first passing small row houses, then large retail buildings. Charlotte and Zee watched out the window, looking for some sign of… something, while the bird kept on grooming himself. And then, after they had been on the bus for what seemed like eons, the bus approached the biggest retail center of them all.
The Mall.
The bird hopped up, flew up to the signal cord, and landed on it, then flew down the aisle.
"You have got to be kidding," Charlotte said.
Zee was staring out the window and shaking his head. "What in the…"
The Mielswetzskis had not taken Zee to the Mall. There hadn't really been time, and Aunt Suzanne had been so horrified when she went years ago. Apparently the British don't really have malls, and especially not megamalls. It was better to break Zee in slowly, they all thought. So he'd never seen it.
The Mall was Big. It was Huge. It was Mega. As the bus pulled into the parking lot and began to circle around the driveway in front of the Mall, into the six-story parking garage where the bus stops were, Zee's eyes grew bigger and bigger, until they threatened to take over his head. After this, Charlotte thought grimly, the Underworld will be easy for him.
Then the bus doors opened, the bird squawked at them, and Zee and Charlotte-both extremely perplexed for entirely different reasons – followed.
The bus driver, who didn't seem at all curious about why two thirteen-year-olds and a large black bird would be going to the Mall well after it had closed, waved at them. "Have a nice night."
Charlotte swallowed.
The bird led them up to the front door. Charlotte could see that the Mall was completely shut down for the night. "It's going to be locked," she said.
"Squawk," said the bird.
"What in the…" said Zee.
Charlotte pulled the door, which was, of course, wide open. They walked (or flew) in, and she cringed a little, but no alarm sounded.
Zee kept muttering to himself as the bird led them down the passageway into the main Mall corridors. They went through the middle of the Mall, through the LEGO land, past the Ferris wheel and the roller coaster and the water ride thingy. Empty carts decorated with pictures of peanuts and cotton candy, and booths hawking ice cream and soda dotted their path. Zee seemed to have entirely forgotten about the purpose of the journey and was simply gawking at all the awful, beautiful excess.
Charlotte hadn't forgotten. She couldn't help notice how quiet everything was. It's after hours, of course it's quiet, but shouldn't there be security guards? Alarms? Something? She followed the bird resolutely as they wound their way out of the amusement park and to the other end of the Mall. They walked past stores, sleeping behind their gates, then turned down a small, dark corridor that Charlotte-despite her many, many visits to this particular Mall-had never noticed before. Next to her, Zee inhaled sharply.
The bird disappeared into the corridor. Slowly the cousins walked down together, letting the darkness wash over them.
They reached the end, their eyes adjusted, and they saw in front of them a very plain door, on which there was a very plain sign, which read, very plainly: NO ADMITTANCE.
Zee gasped. His hand reached out suddenly for the doorknob as if by instinct, and he quickly pulled it back.
The bird landed on the floor right in front of the door and danced and squawked.
Zee reached for the door again, more slowly. Charlotte closed her eyes. A simple twisting sound, and the door was creaking open.
A musty smell washed over them; cold, wet air blew at them; and in front of them there was nothing but black. "I guess we should go in," Charlotte said.
"Let's go," Zee said.
The two grabbed hands, and together they walked into the blackness.