Everland(58)
“Not exactly. The Professor will meet us in the infirmary beneath the palace. It is a secret room hidden behind the crematorium. Secret from the Captain,” Lily says.
“As in Captain Hook?” Pete asks. He grips the hilt of his dagger.
Lily turns and tilts her head. “Of course. What other captain would I be speaking of?”
“Oh, now I know this is a bad idea,” Mole says, fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve.
Lily huffs an exaggerated breath. “Well, you’re welcome to go back to the gallery, but I assure you with all that smoke billowing, that is not a simple bonfire.” She whirls around and continues up the hallway.
The Lost Boys exchange worried glances.
“Come on,” I say, tugging Pete’s hand. “I don’t think she means us any harm. And entering the palace this way is a whole lot better than having to fight our way through the soldiers.”
“I agree,” Mole interjects.
Pete casts a frustrated glance at Pickpocket. “What about you? Do you think we should trust her?”
Pickpocket shrugs. “Where else are we going to go? We can’t exactly go back. Gwen’s right; at least this way we can get closer to the palace without losing anyone else.”
Pete is quiet for a moment, and the fact that he hasn’t asked Doc for his input doesn’t escape me.
“I concur,” Doc finally says. His gaze darts after Lily. “Besides, if the Professor is indeed a physician helping children in Everland, she is probably seeking an antidote or has already acquired one. It would be good for us to find out what she knows.”
Pete gives a suspicious stare in Lily’s direction before conceding. “Let’s go,” he says reluctantly.
The shrill cry of panicked children is music to my ears as it reverberates through the tunnels below Everland. Their voices are drowned out beneath the shouts of the masked Marauders. I clench and unclench my fists as I scan the vast chamber of the Lost City. Copper, chrome, and brass fixtures glitter beneath oil and gas lamps. Gears squeal from machines, each seeming to have a specific purpose. Pulleys, levers, and wheels attach to the stone walls and ceiling. Buildings stand lopsided along the circumference of the makeshift city. It’s rather magnificent, but I can’t shake the itch of annoyance. All this time, they’ve been right under my feet, literally.
“How clever of them,” I say, taking in the intricate details of the underground town. “And here I thought the tunnels were caved in. Nothing but rubble.”
“They were, Captain,” Smeeth says, scratching his head. “We made sure of it. The ones that hadn’t collapsed after the bombing, we blew the entrances ourselves.”
I glower at him, my hands aching to wring his thick neck. “Apparently they weren’t, Mr. Smeeth.”
The children protest as the Marauders gather the boys, chaining them in groups. “Fascinating. I had no idea there were so many of you still running the streets.”
The younger children sniff back tears while the older boys scowl at me, boys who are near my age or a few years younger. I recognize the fire within them, the stain of lost innocence. It’s the same fury that rages in my heart and soul, a fire that has burned within me since the day of my thirteenth birthday. I have the advantage this time.
A tall, skinny boy lunges forward. “What do you want with us?” he demands.
I look him over, an amused grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. I flick the boy’s thick goggles, making the teenager jerk. “And who might you be?”
“Justice is our interim leader,” another teenager says.
I burst into laughter. I can’t help it. The boy cowering before me is hardly intimidating, much less the head of an entire city of orphans. “Leader, eh? I don’t have time for games, so I’ll make this easy on you.”
Justice takes a big breath and the muscles in his jaw tighten. He still trembles, but I can see he’s steeling himself for a battle. “What do you want?” he asks.
“There are a lot of things I want.” I pace in front of the rows of shackled boys. “World domination, the German crown, the cure to the Horologia virus, which I’m fairly certain lies within a girl of Everland. Now, where are Bella and the other girl?”
A small boy bursts from behind a pile of machine parts and stands toe-to-toe with me. His brown eyes glaze with rage. He’s captivating in a chubby-cheeked kind of way and his determination is bigger than his stature. Something stirs within me, a piece of my former self longing for the days Jack and I adventured into the forest until dusk, playing in tree forts. I don’t know who changed first, him or me. With the death of his father and my … my disfiguration, we both became different people. The jubilant boy he once was died the day he buried his father, and my joy was lost the day my mother struck me, taking my innocence along with my eye. I stare at the young boy, recognizing the fierce expression. It’s the countenance I saw in my own reflection, the same expression when Jack said we weren’t brothers anymore before he bolted from his father’s funeral. He blamed me, but I had done nothing other than offer Jack’s father the spiced cider from my mother. It was the only kind thing I’d ever seen her do for anyone, and I wanted to be a part of that occasion. He was dead by morning.
“They’re gone and it’s your fault,” the boy shouts. He throws a dirty teddy bear at me and pummels me with his fists. It doesn’t hurt. Each time his little hand connects I feel nothing, empty.