Gods of Chicago: Omnibus Edition (14 page)

Chapter 23

The glow of candles and gas lamps illuminated the scarves around Madame Tibor’s head. Light glinted from her earrings and from her dark eyes. Emma sat across the table from the woman, stealing glances at Eddie now and then. He stayed put on the side of the room cleaning his horn and sometimes blowing soft notes from it. Emma had asked him to join her at the table, but he shook his head and hugged her. While they embraced, Eddie whispered in her ear that he didn’t trust gyspy magic.

Madame Tibor placed a card in the center of the table before Emma. “Is you,” she said. Emma stared at the card. It was upside down. On it, a blue-tinted female figure held a sword in front of her with the point between her feet. Around the figure swirled balls of varying shades of blue. A balance framed the figure, with the two plates sitting evenly beside her hips.

“Card is reversed, Miss Farnsworth. Is sign of your struggle. You would see the world through eyes of fairness. But too much you are thinking you are right. So you struggle. World does not look fair to you.”

Emma sniffed at that last and turned her eyes to Eddie. Was it fair that she and the man she loved would have been thrown in jail if they’d shown their affections in public? Was it fair that Archie Falco had been a filthy rat and she’d been forced to kill him to save herself from the unspeakable ordeal he had planned? And now she had to run away. With or without Eddie, she had to leave Chicago City behind.

“What kind of world is fair when every step you take lands you in the soup?”

“Ah,” Madame Tibor said, smiling. “Is this world. Or other. All worlds are the soup.” The gypsy placed another card on the table, directly above the first. On this new card, an indistinct figure stood in front of a field of colors bursting in a star shape from a central point just below the figure’s navel. Madame Tibor tapped the card with a long-nailed finger. “The Eternal. Is your dark man,” the gypsy woman said. “He lets much fall away to be with you. This card critical to you both. To dark man, is his place now. Place of change. Of endings, but also freedom that ending brings.”

“And to me?” Emma asked, afraid of what
endings
the gypsy might be referring to.

“Is what you bring with you. Eternal is very powerful ally in time of chaos. Will know when to act. When to rest. Now.” Madame Tibor slipped three more cards from her deck and placed them on the table in a fan around the central cards. Two of the cards were reversed. The last of them was placed upright. Madame Tibor stared at the spread of cards and tutted. Before Emma could ask why, the gypsy lifted a card and held it up for Emma. The image was of a man standing on one foot against a background of stars and planets.

“Card is reversed. Is man who waits, not man who—” Madame Tibor paused and searched the air with her eyes, finally bringing them back to meet Emma’s gaze. “Is not man who
lives
.”

Emma took in the card’s full image. The man wasn’t standing. In the upright position, the card presented him suspended by one foot while the other foot and both hands were held fast by nails driven into cloud shapes. “So who is he to me?”

“In place here,” the gypsy said, putting the card back on the table, “is one you will help. But reversed. Does not know you will help. Will not ask you to help. Next card though, is one you will save.”

Again Madame Tibor lifted the card for Emma to examine. This one also sat reversed on the table. Emma studied the image this time, looking for details to help explain its meaning. A male figure stood central on the card. His hands and feet seemed to wave in the air around him as he stepped off the edge of a cliff. A discarded walking stick tumbled down into blackness before him, and at his heels a dog trailed happily as if to follow with no concern for the drop ahead.

“That’s the Fool,” Emma said, remembering the dog from a previous reading with the gypsy. That was the night of the Mayor’s Gala. Who had the card been that time? Her father?

“Yes,” Madame Tibor said, as if reading Emma’s thoughts. “We see this card before. Reversed that time, too. That time was one you would think lost. But—” the gypsy cut off, seeming to wait for Emma’s reaction.

“I’m listening.” Emma said.

“Ah. This time then. Fool is one you will save but is reversed now. You wait, act later. Because you act here, or maybe there, card will move on its own. Fool saves himself.” Madame Tibor set the Fool card down and spun it around so the figure stood upright. Her face darkened as she lifted the final card for Emma.

“Is your future.”

At first sight, the image on the card seemed to present a threat, something to prepare for. But hearing the gypsy’s words staggered Emma. She flinched away and had to force herself to stay seated. Madame Tibor put a hand out, clasping Emma’s interlaced fingers. “Is not bad. My eyes scare you, Miss Farnsworth. I am sorry. Here.” The gypsy pressed the card into Emma’s reluctant hands.

“This is what’s waiting for me?” she asked. A horned figure, half man and half goat, stared out of the card at Emma. Around it swarmed vaguely male and female figures of pale yellow and blue. The scene stood out from a background of swirling black lines and flesh-colored shapes that looked like viscera.

“Not waiting for you. Is future. It comes to you when it is time.”

“But this looks horrible,” Emma said, feeling a tear course down her cheek.

“Horrible,” Madame Tibor scoffed at the suggestion, waving a hand as she said, “Horrible. No. Is beautiful. This card Lightbringer. One who knows risks, always sees darkness. Goes forward anyway.”

“And that’s me. I’m going forward into darkness. How is that anything but horrible?” Emma couldn’t take her eyes off the card. The swirling black lines pulsed and coursed like snakes around the image. They intertwined and wrapped around the indistinct human figures as if to entrap them.

“I tell you this now,” the gypsy said. “You or one close to you in future will bring light to darkness. Makes it so other people can see.”

Emma set the card down, still unable to shake the sense of dread that made short gasps of her breath. Eddie’s horn filled the low, close room with a mournful melody. Emma turned her face to him and saw the same fear and worry in his eyes that she felt clouding her own.

Madame Tibor drew another card and placed it across the first one she’d set down.

“Two of Lances. You have courage to fight. Will succeed if you trust yourself.” She placed yet another card on the table, to the left of the stacked pair representing Emma. A second card went to the right of the stack and Madame Tibor smiled. “Ace of Medallions and Ten of Vessels. Yes. I think you and dark man will see freedom. And will help others escape, too.”

The gypsy woman cleared the cards away, her face blank except for the glint of light reflected in her dark eyes. Emma stood on shaky legs and went to Eddie. “She says we’ll be all right.”

“I heard what she said, Lovebird,” Eddie replied. He held Emma tight to his chest. “I heard she said you’re going to make it so other people can see better. As if you and me didn’t have enough trouble.”

“What do you mean?” Emma said, leaning back to look Eddie in the eye.

“I mean we already got every copper in town ready to slip a rope around both our necks. You for that man you shot down and me for touching your hand. Won’t help us escape the hangman’s noose if you go shining lights where other folks want it to stay dark.”

Eddie pulled her close and they held each other. Emma turned to thank Madame Tibor for reading the cards for her, but the gypsy woman was gone. Emma gasped, afraid again that they’d been left out to dry until the coppers could show up and collect them. She relaxed when the cobbler called down to them, asking if they needed something to eat. Eddie said that’d be fine and thanks. The cobbler brought cheese and bread, and a pot full of a thick stew. They ate from wooden bowls and drank a rich red wine out of glass jars the cobbler pulled from behind the bar.

“Eat. Then you rest. Nagy leaves soon. Will come back and put Eddie Collins to work.” The cobbler laughed and Eddie let a smile curl his mouth. Emma smiled, too. This was the closest she’d felt to happy in a long time. She wondered how long it would last.

Chapter 24

Aiden and Digs tore down the streets. The curfew bells rang out all around them. Mutton had left them as close to Aiden’s neighborhood as he could before turning back down the street to drive his old jalopy home. The clunking and sputtering of the steam car’s engine still echoed in Aiden’s ears.

“How’d we end up so late?” Digs said. His breath came easy. Aiden huffed and puffed to keep up with his friend, not used to running or being very active beyond hauling stacks of papers on and off his airbike.

“I don’t know, Diggsy. Old Mutton. He had us at that yard for ages. Them guys out there. They yelled him off’a the piles. He kept digging for stuff. And then he parked us out there. Waited ages.”

Mutton had dug into a few piles before the yard boys came around and hollered at him to clear off. Then he drove down to the other end of the long yard by the lakeside and waited. Aiden and Digs had been stuck in the back of the delivery van they’d taken over from the Record. Aiden still thought of it as the Record, even with the new signs hanging up everywhere. He even called it the Record when Mutton drove them back to return the van and collect his old steam car. The sun had long since set when they finally tootled out of the garage beneath the Record’s building.

“Hey, Diggsy. Hold up a tick,” Aiden said. They’d turned down yet another alley that Digs said he knew was a safe route, away from main roads and places the coppers were probably watching during the curfew. Digs knew the streets, Aiden had to give him that.

“We can’t stick here for long, Conroy my lad,” Digs said, pulling an impersonation of Mutton that included slumping over a bit and dropping one eye lid.

“Aw, go on, Diggsy,” Aiden said and waved a hand at his friend. “We’re in the soup because of that old fella. He’s the reason we’re so late and running from the coppers.”

“Yeah, but he gave you Mr. Brand’s camera box, didn’t he? Guy can’t be all that bad he hands you a parting gift like that.”

Aiden hefted the small box in its leather case. The strap went around his neck and the camera dangled in front of him like the weight on a case clock. Mutton had handed it over after he’d dug it from a scrap pile when the yard boys weren’t looking. It was a heck of a thing to hand a fella, Aiden had to admit. He also had to admit that he’d thought twice about trading it for safe passage home. Of course, the coppers probably wouldn’t have much use for it and would be just as likely to haul him and Digs in for stealing it.

“
Hey, Aiden. What’s with the long face? It’ll be jake. Don’t you worry. Ol’ Diggsy Gordon’s in the lead. Now are you rested up enough or should I ask the next copper that comes by if he’s got a pillow handy?”

Aiden swiped at Digs and then the boys were running again. Up fire escapes and into windows of abandoned flats or empty storerooms above shops. Digs knew plenty of routes to and from everywhere a guy’d need to go. They even passed right behind their favorite soda shop. At the edge of Aiden’s neighborhood, the boys pulled up behind a stack of waste barrels and crates outside of a butcher’s. The stink of meat and blood cloaked their hiding place and a swarm of flies buzzed lazily in the cold night air above the boys’ heads.

“Just up here and we’re good as gold,” Digs said. He motioned for Aiden to follow and piloted them along an alley that ran down one side of the butcher’s. It opened to a wider street at the far end and branched in the middle to follow a narrow trail between the butcher’s and a grocer’s building.

“What’s up here?” Aiden asked, worried by the narrow length of alley they had entered. A patrol ship sailed overhead somewhere. Its motor rumbled in the clouds, low and threatening. If a searchlight came down on them in this thin alley, they’d be sunk but good. Digs pulled up by a cellar window in the grocer’s building. He prized it open with a length of wood that he’d slid from a hiding spot beside the window.

“Down here. We drop into McCoy’s cellar, sneak an apple or two if you’re hungry, and then it’s two blocks to home.”

“How you figure, Digs? You want us to detour into the cellar first? I don’t follow you.”

“No, you dunce. The cellar lets out into Old Chicago. Underneath, right? It all burned down fifty some years ago and they just went and built up on top of it. But a few spots like this one let you in. There’s tunnels all around that get you everywhere in the city. You just got to watch out for them gypsies. They’ll gut you and serve you up as breakfast if they find you in their clubhouse.”

Now Aiden understood how his friend was familiar with so many places in town that Aiden had never been and figured a guy couldn’t get without knowing the right people. The tunnels also explained how Digs managed to cop the sneak so easy after lifting food or clothing from a storefront. Aiden felt Digs nudge his shoulder and he returned the gesture, remembering his friend’s last words and imagining nothing but evil grins and sharp knives waiting for them in the cellar.

“You know the way, Diggsy. Go on.” Digs bent his head and shoulders into the cellar window just as a car engine rumbled from one or two streets over and came closer. Shouting echoed through the alleyway and was followed by a gunshot. A scream and a second shot followed. Then silence except for the rumble of the patrol boat somewhere above. No searchlights came down, so the boat’s position was a mystery.

“C’mon,” Digs said. “That was the next street over. Let’s go see what’s what.”

Aiden balked, but his friend was intent and had already squeezed past him down the narrow alley to the wider branch alongside the butcher’s. Aiden followed and caught up with Digs at the alley mouth. They hung back, behind the crates and waste barrels, peering into the street they’d been on earlier.

“I don’t see nothing, Digs. Let’s go on.”

“You heard the shots same as me, hey? Bet there’s some kinda mess out there. Let’s go get a picture with Mr. Brand’s camera.” Before Aiden could stop him, Digs had the camera off his neck and was on the sidewalk. Aiden came up behind Digs and they duckwalked their way down to the middle of the block. Digs brought Mr. Brand’s camera up and fiddled with it. Aiden snatched it away and worked the dials the way he’d seen Mr. Brand do a few times in the print rooms. The little view window began to glow with a dull snowy light. Aiden thought he could make out an image on the screen and kept fiddling with the dials. His heart skipped a beat when a car roared to life at the far end of the block. It came tearing around a corner and speared the butcher’s window with its headlights as it made the turn. The car drove past their hiding place and down the next street. Aiden clamped Mr. Brand’s camera to his chest.

“We’re sunk if we stay out  any longer, Digs. Let’s get hid.”

Aiden moved to go back down the street when the thrumming of an airship filtered down from overhead. The boys shuffled along the sidewalk, trying to find a hiding place. Aiden tucked into a doorway and called for Digs to join him, but Digs lit out for the alley, staying low and galloping. Aiden’s eyes rounded in terror when a searchlight stabbed down from the clouds and picked Digs out on the sidewalk.

Digs bolted for the alley and disappeared around the corner. Aiden heard shouts. He waited for gunshots but none came. Then Aiden heard a sound that sent his heart straight into his throat. It began as a low throaty rumbling and grew to a rasping hiss. The scream that followed had to be Digs. Aiden heard his own name in the middle of the storm of sounds, roaring and hissing and howling. Then silence. The hum of an airship motor faded as the craft moved away, trailing its searchlight like a knife through the night.

Aiden nearly shrieked when he heard a clicking sound from the street around him. A trio of crabs had emerged and made their way to the alley. Aiden didn’t want to go down there. He didn’t know what he’d see, but his imagination kept trying to fill in the blank spot. And he kept trying to will the blankness to remain so he wouldn’t have to think about Digs in any way except as he last was: running for his life, but still alive.

The crabs made the alley and turned. Aiden stayed on their trail, hanging back. His terror kept his eyes narrowed against the feeble light, and he had to put a hand out to steady himself around the corner. The smell of the butcher’s waste barrels nearly emptied Aiden’s stomach. He swallowed once. Twice. The crabs continued along the alley, so Aiden followed. His eyes were still half-closed, and he knocked his knees trying to move around the crates. When he heard the crabs stop moving, he staggered and ended up slipping in a patch of slick soil. His knee came down hard onto a stone and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. The crabs clicked a few more times and then went still. They were in the narrow alley Digs had led Aiden into. One by one the crabs came out. When the first one got close to Aiden’s feet it stopped and rocked back to aim its lens at his face. Without realizing he was doing it, Aiden held a hand up to block the crab’s eye from focusing on him. He heard the machine’s shutter click and figured it must have taken a picture of him anyway. Mr. Brand’s camera box hummed. Aiden looked at the view window as the picture came into focus.

The image was dark, but it was shot through in places with streaks of light from the searchlight. The picture showed the narrow alleyway just by the cellar window where Digs and Aiden almost escaped a few minutes earlier. Now most of Digs was in a pile by the window. Aiden’s stomach heaved and he spluttered a mouthful of bile onto the crab at his feet. The machine sparked and smoked and went still. The other two came up beside it. One at a time they aimed their eyes at Aiden’s face. As they did, the view window on Mr. Brand’s camera changed. A new image replaced the first, and this time Aiden felt his heart go stone cold when he looked into his friend’s bloodied face. Digs’ eyes were closed at least. The final picture showed a hulking dark figure standing over Digs. Something dripped from the figure’s long fingers. A grunt and moan came from down the narrow alley. Aiden finally screamed. And he ran.

His feet carried him down the wide alley around the corner. Back down the street and over to the next block. The rumbling motors of patrol boats swarmed like hornets above his head and he ducked as he ran, holding his cap on with one hand and clutching Mr. Brand’s camera to his chest with the other. After dashing along streets and down alleys, Aiden came up short against the fence behind his family’s home. His parents would eat him alive for coming in after curfew. He’d have to ditch Mr. Brand’s camera box, too. If they caught him with it, they’d see the pictures on it, and then they’d know about Digs. Aiden couldn’t tell them about Digs, but he’d have to tell them something. He stashed Mr. Brand’s camera box under the back steps and crept to the kitchen door.

When Aiden opened the door, his parents flew into the kitchen from the dining room. What was he thinking? Why had he been out after curfew? Was he crazy? Did the men find him and bring him home? What men? The men that came by just as the curfew bell rang.

Men were looking for him?

Aiden focused on the only thing that made sense about his day. He told his folks how him and Digs were put off the job, but first they got sent to the scrap yard with Mutton, and the old man kept them too late because he wanted to dig through the piles. Aiden got dropped off a few blocks from home.

He hadn’t wanted to mention Digs because his parents didn’t like him hanging around a guy who doesn’t keep a regular address. Sure enough, Aiden’s dad went to work on him.

Figures he’d come home late after hanging around the Gordon boy. And what about Digs? Where’d he end up? He’s not out there begging food from the neighbors, is he?

Digs went home, Aiden told them, feeling his bottom lip quiver. He heard the sounds from the alley echoing in his memory and did his best to see a picture of Digs still alive. Aiden imagined Digs standing next to his mother in whatever house they’d been living in lately. Aiden never knew where Digs lived from week to week. Digs didn’t either.

He went home, Aiden’s father said in a huff. Where’s he at this week?

Aiden’s mind called up the sounds from the alley, and the smell of the butcher’s shop. His stomach turned and Aiden felt like he’d need a pail if his folks kept grilling him.

He’s living over by some butcher’s. Aiden’s dad nodded and crossed his arms. Digs went home, Aiden said again. His father grumbled something about looking guilty and told Aiden to go to bed. Digs went home, Aiden thought to himself as he went upstairs to his room, fighting against the images that kept coming back to him. Images of Digs lying dead in the narrow alley, all tumbled together in a heap by the cellar window. All except for the parts Aiden hadn’t seen because they weren’t there anymore.