Rotke, his love.
Behind him, Adams, blinded by the ash, hissed in pain. Jefferson, recovered from his momentary shock, was in pursuit. Will tipped over the chair behind him, impeding the bigger agent’s progress. Up ahead, the stuffed bear’s dead eyes stared, unseeing, as Jefferson caught Will by the ankle, bringing him down hard, knocking the air from his lungs. Will could not speak or move. He could only lie on his back, looking up, at Jefferson’s furious face as he landed a blow to Will’s jaw, shattering it, then up again at Adams behind Jefferson, tightening the piano wire between his gloved fingers, and finally, up at the painted ceiling where men inked ideals into parchment, a root worker held aloft her mandrake, a host of angels and demons fought on the prairie lands of a new world, and around the mural’s edges, Diviners looked on, watching, waiting and wary and ready.
He hoped, he hoped.
“Any last words?” Adams snarled.
Blood filled Will’s mouth. “Vive la résistance.”
In the stacks, Sister Walker clutched the secret files tightly to her chest and listened to the last dying gasp and gurgle of her friend Will Fitzgerald. Tears stung her eyes. A scream clawed at her throat.
“That’s been a long time coming.” Adams.
“What do we do with him? Torch the place?” Jefferson played with the matchbook in his hand. His eyes gleamed.
Adams shook his head. “Leave him. Let him be found. Someone should pay for this murder, don’t you think?” Adams tsk-tsked. “Those Diviners. They can’t be trusted, you know. Enemies of the state. Perhaps it’s time we let the nation know just how dangerous they are.”
THE TIME IS NOW
The Shadow Man entered the cell like a ghost. “Good evening, Miriam.”
From her chair, Miriam Lubovitch Lloyd registered the man’s odious presence and continued reading her book without comment.
“Whatcha reading?” At Miriam’s silence, the Shadow Man angled his head sideways. “A Geological History of the United States.” He righted himself, chuckling. “Well. You certainly know how to have fun.”
“Why are you here? Is not mealtime. You come to torture me more?”
The Shadow Man frowned. “Persuade. We persuade, Miriam. I’ve come to let you know that, thanks to you, our agents are bringing in one of our lost chicks. Your Sergei is coming home, Miriam.”
Miriam’s split-second joy was doused by anger. “You don’t know the fire you play with. Theirs is not power you can manipulate. It is grown too big for your control. I can feel it.”
“Anything and anyone can be manipulated. Isn’t that right, Miriam?” The Shadow Man’s gloved hand rested on her shoulder. “Besides, we’re not accustomed to losing. We’ll get them in line. We are not afraid of a bunch of uncontrolled, misfit kids.”
Miriam shrugged off his touch. “Aren’t you?”
The Shadow Man sighed like a weary parent. “Miriam—we’re on the same side. You help us, and we’ll see to it that you’re reunited with your son.”
“What will you do to him first?”
“Just a few tests, that’s all. I’m sure he’s a patriot who’d like to do his duty.”
Miriam narrowed her eyes. “Patriot,” she sneered.
“Everybody wants freedom. No one wants to pay for it. Or to think about who has to do the ugly work to secure that freedom,” he said quietly.
Miriam put her book on the table and stood. She was considerably smaller than the man, but on instinct, he took a step back. “You promised me something if I help you. So. I did. I help you. I cannot help Anna anymore,” Miriam said, and watched the Shadow Man grow uncomfortable. “I want to walk. Outside. In fresh air.”
“Now, Miriam. That wouldn’t be wise of us, would it? Keeping you underground keeps a lid on that Diviner power of yours. I still remember when you managed to get that poor secretary to give you a postcard. And then you had her mail it for you, convinced her it was her idea all along.” He tutted.
Miriam kept her eyes trained on the wall. “Could I at least go to the solarium to see the trees?”
They chained her, of course. Iron to contain her gifts. Shackled, she shuffled across the observation deck’s slate floor. Slate was good. Natural. Grounding. She curled her toes against its ancient power. It was a good antidote to the iron. The sun was just setting. The solarium’s tall windows looked out on acres of orange-painted trees, centuries old, and the snow-dusted mountains beyond. There was great power in them, too. But the men didn’t need to know that. Underground, it was much harder for her gifts to travel.
But not here.
The chains on her mind were loosening. The men had made the mistake of giving her a reason to live. They’d made the mistake of going after her son.
Miriam smiled at the scenery. “Pretty.”
“Don’t get any ideas,” the Shadow Man said.
In answer, Miriam presented her shackled hands. The Shadow Man smirked. Miriam turned back to the fading sun. Her smile disappeared. The experiments performed on her during the war had yielded interesting results. When the Shadow Man had asked for locations of Diviners, he hadn’t said they had to be living. Miriam appealed to them now, to the dead. Help me.
The slate, the trees, the mountains beyond, and the dead: Their combined power thrummed softly inside her. And then, something like a great switchboard lit up in her mind. Like that infernal radio that played through the floor grate, she was transmitting, sending out a mental SOS in the hope it would reach some Diviner out there.
In the dark of the Underground Railroad tunnel, Bill and Memphis slept. Isaiah woke, trembling with visions. His hand reached for the charcoal in his pocket. “Yes. Yes, I see you,” he said softly as he drew what he saw on a patch of flat earthen wall.
In her sleep, Theta stood on the edge of that forest. An eagle soared overhead. A brave emerged from a redwood hollow. But Theta couldn’t understand what he said. “West,” Ling said, suddenly beside her. “He’s saying, ‘Go west.’”
“Did you feel that?” Henry asked David. They lay together in Henry’s single bed, their bodies still slick with sweat.
“What?” David said, still half dreaming.
Henry sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. The room was still. “Like somebody calling for help.”
Under a moon waxing toward full, roustabouts hammered posts into spring-soft ground and raised the tents for the next day’s show. Full-bellied and exhausted, the animals gentled onto their hay and went to sleep. In a bright red-and-white-striped circus wagon warmed by the glow of a lantern, the Great Zarilda, Seer of Fortunes, shuffled her tarot deck and laid down her cards, frowning.
Johnny the Wolf Boy brought her a cup of tea. He scratched at the dark, downy hair along his neck. “What is it, Zarilda?”
The Great Zarilda turned over another card. Three of Swords. Betrayal, lies, turmoil. “I believe our old friend Sam Lloyd is in terrible danger.”