Moonshine: A Novel (18 page)

A man dressed in dust-caked dungarees lunged forward to grab the vampire's arm. She cursed and jumped away with inhuman speed. He was left with a torn bit of her sleeve; she now stood on the desk. I stared at the police officers, waiting for them to take the vampire and shoo the crowd away. But when someone else lunged at her, they stayed back.

"What are they doing?" I asked, unable to believe what I was seeing.

Lily put a hand on my shoulder. "Letting them take her, I think."

To do what? Rip her limb from limb before feeding her pitiful exsanguinated corpse to the stray dogs? "Oh, fuck." I handed Lily back her notebook.

"Go through that door," I said, pointing to the one a few feet away. "Don't you dare follow me. If you wait, you'll get your damn scoop." One way or another. V
AMPIRE
S
UFFRAGETTE
D
EFIES
L
YNCH
M
OB
or M
ORON
S
QUASHED
L
IKE
B
UG IN
P
OLICE
H
EADQUARTERS
? I gave Lily a shove in the right direction and then launched myself at the crowd. They let me pass fairly easily, I'm not sure why. Maybe the grim expression on my face, or the silver blade I'd taken from beneath my skirt. I came upon a police officer a few seconds later.

"Don't you dare let this mob take that woman!" I yelled, loudly enough that few people paused to listen.

The man winced and wiped his forehead as though I'd spit on him. "She's no woman. And you try reasoning with these folks. Now get back."

He shoved me behind him and I stumbled to one knee. Several pairs of feet kicked me in the shins and ribs before I managed to stagger upright again. More gunshots cracked the air, but this time I couldn't even tell if they came from the police. Several people were lunging for the vampire, who just barely eluded them. This couldn't go on for much longer. She might be faster, but no vampire that weak and desperate could evade a mob of bloodthirsty humans for long.

Well, just how stupid are you, Zephyr?

"Bastards!" the woman yelled. "Bastard police! You'll let them do this!" Someone rocked the desk.

Very, very stupid.

I let out a roar and shoved my way forward, pushing and stomping on anyone in my path. I didn't hesitate; I jumped onto the desk with the vampire and prayed that she wouldn't choose this moment to retaliate against her attackers. She didn't. She just stared at me. "Help?" she said.

I nodded and waved the knife at the crowd.

"Look at her! She's just like you. She has nothing to do with Faust and what happened last night. If you kill her, it's simple murder. But since some of you seem to have left your moral compasses at home, I'll make it simple. It's definitely murder to kill me. I'm still human."

"Give her up! We don't want to hurt you."

I laughed. "Well, I think that's the point. You're going to have to."

My gamble seemed to be working. The almost palpable anger of the crowd was slowly turning to confusion. People murmured among themselves. Even the police lowered their pistols with looks of obvious relief.

"Hey," said a woman close to the front of the crowd, "that's that girl. The one who teaches night school."

One of the police officers laughed. "Hey, vampire suffragette, sing us a song, why don't you?"

"A duet!"

The
police
knew about my singing debut? I guess Horace made sure to pay off everyone. "I don't give out songs for free, boys."

A few people laughed, but most were letting themselves be pushed through the double doors, back onto the street. After a few moments I jumped off the desk and held my hand up to the vampire to help her down. Out of danger, she'd begun to shake so badly I thought she might crack her brittle bones.

"Th-thank you," she said. Her accent was faintly Italian.

"How long has it been since you fed?"

She shook her head. "Tuesday. But, you see . . ." She looked carefully at me, and then drew the scarf from around her shoulders. When she pushed back the fabric, the problem was evident: a silver bullet, lodged beside her shoulder blades. Not enough to exsanguinate immediately, but enough to weaken her to death. Unless she got proper treatment, which certainly wasn't going to happen at an Other-phobic police station or hospital.

"Who did that?"

"Someone in my neighborhood. I didn't see who. They saw me walking and shot . . . I didn't know what to do."

There's vigilante justice for you. Lily, having decided that the situation was safe enough to ignore my warnings, approached the two of us.

"Well, never a boring moment with you around, is there?" She grinned and then ostentatiously kissed her reporter's notebook. "Gold, I tell you. Zephyr, you and I make a peachy team."

I returned the smile. "And I'm sure your paper loves human interest stories."

"What, sucker bites man? I already have plenty of that, thanks."

"Oh no, how about man shoots sucker with silver bullet? A few tenements have organized themselves into armed militias. Silver bullets and itchy trigger fingers, Lily. Along with some definitive information about where Faust is coming from."

Lily's mouth twisted. "Why do I think I won't be getting the better end of this bargain? What do you want for it, Zephyr?"

"Just take this woman down to the Blood Bank on St. Marks Place. Ask for Ysabel. if she can't help her, she'll know someone who can."

"Wait, why can't you do that?
I'm
not the do-gooder in this relationship."

I took a step away and pulled Lily closer to me, so hopefully the vampire wouldn't be able to hear us. "One of these tenement vigilante groups shot her a few hours ago with a silver bullet. Which can kill vampires in less than a day. I don't have time, dearest Lily. I promised Nicholas--you know, the Turn Boy--that I'd meet him at noon."

Lily sighed. "Fine. Deal. But you definitely have something solid about Faust and Rinaldo?"

"You know, I'm not sure it's sound journalistic practice to plant information in your sources and then quote the sources for corroborating evidence."

Lily let the corners of her mouth curve up into a cool, supercilious smile. "What you don't know about journalistic ethics could fill President Taft's belly, Zephyr. And anyway, so long as you have fresh evidence . . ."

"I do. Just take care of her."

Lily nodded. "I'll see you later to night. Iris has finally convinced me to attend one of those ghastly meetings."

She set off at a brisk pace, forcing the vampire to struggle to keep up with her. I shook my head. For a reporter, Lily had certain remarkable blind spots on her observational skills.

"Miss, sorry, we need to clear the station." It was the police officer Lily had been interviewing. I looked around the station and realized I was the only civilian left.

"Wait, could you just help me with one thing?"
Since I just saved your collective posteriors a few minutes ago.
I didn't say that part, but I raised my eyebrows high enough for him catch my meaning.

"Ah, right. What can I do for you?"

"I . . . um . . . I think I saw a little boy I heard went missing last Thursday. I'm wondering if anyone reported him missing."

"On Thursday?" He shook his head slowly. "None that I know of. Now last night and this morning? About seven." He shrugged.

I let out a slow breath, a little surprised at the depth of my disappointment. If no one had reported a missing child, then he could be one of hundreds of faceless immigrant children. Hell, he could even be indigent, for all I knew. I started to wonder if I'd ever find Judah's family.

The air outside was shocking cold after the heated mash of bodies inside the station, but I kept myself warm by bicycling furiously the rest of the way to South Ferry. There were a few ships docked when I arrived, and the piers were loaded with goods and milling people. I elbowed my way toward a likely-looking police boat. An officer lounging on the dock looked up when I approached. He listened sympathetically enough when I explained that I was looking for a missing little boy, but offered me no more help than the officers back in the precinct office.

"Sorry, miss, but there's a lot of parents and kids come to Battery Park. We don't even know all the ones that work on the ships, let alone anyone else."

Brilliant. "Would you say any of the ships here have particularly frightening horns?" I knew I was flailing, but I wouldn't compound it by looking embarrassed.

He laughed, as well he might. "Frightening, miss? For a little tyke, maybe. But I wouldn't know what. And none of the big ships dock here. You might try Chelsea."

"I . . . I don't suppose you'd mind . . . demonstrating? Your horn, I mean?"

He looked a tad uncomfortable, as though he were belatedly questioning my sanity. I gave him my brightest smile and he shrugged. "Eh, why not? Bill," he called, to one of the men on the boat. "Give the whistle a pull, will you? Lady down here wants to know how it sounds."

Bill obliged and I gave an involuntary start. Goodness, was that volume truly necessary? Still, it by no means seemed harsh or deep enough to frighten even a susceptible eleven-year-old at all used to the water. Besides, a series of docks like notches on a key went all around Manhattan. None of these seemed very child friendly, and all of them served thousands of ships. Maybe I could try Chelsea, but my shoulders slumped and I barely remembered to thank the officers before leaving. This felt like a dead end. I could only hope Judah remembered something else.

I had only twenty minutes left before my tutoring session with Nicholas. There were too many things I needed to know that only the leader of the Turn Boys could tell me: where they'd kidnapped Judah, how they planned to run Faust into the city, where Rinaldo's lair was located.

Nicholas, of course, would kill me before telling me any of it. Which meant I had to trick him.

The inside of the Beast's Rum was dark as a tomb, and nearly as quiet as one. Blackout blinds had been pulled over all of the windows, and I had to knock for nearly a minute before a shuffling, hooded vampire let me inside. The only sounds came from a few suckers quietly nursing bags of clean blood, and one muttering to himself in the corner. They looked miserable. I spared them my sympathy.

"Is Nicholas here?" I whispered to the one who had opened the door. He looked up and I realized, with a shock, that it was Charlie. He looked like he'd lost twenty pounds in the last twelve hours.

"In back," he said, his voice a rough whisper.

"You look like shit," I said.

He coughed. "Well. Faust is a kick in the balls."

"Hope it was worth it."

His beatific smile surprised me. "Oh, yes."

I started to walk away, but he reached out to grab my shoulder. I bit my lip against a shudder.

"Be careful. He's a bit . . . the Faust, you know."

He seemed worried, insistent that I understand. But I wasn't sure what I needed to know. That Nicholas was crazy? I'd gathered that already. Dangerous? I could handle it.

"Don't worry," I said, shrugging off his hand. "I'll be fine."

I bumped into a few tables before I found the door to the back room. A faint gas lamp illuminated the gloom inside. Nicholas sat on the floor, his back against the pile of ruined instruments. His skin was flushed with blood, but oddly pale beneath the blush. Faust with a chaser of Homo sapiens? I hoped the blood had been willingly donated, but I doubted it. His head lolled against his chest. I would have thought him asleep, if not for his glowing, open eyes.

"I won't let you," he whispered.

"Nicholas?"

"Please, not the cage, I don't need it anymore . . ." He didn't look at me, and something about his distant expression reminded me of Judah, hallucinating in Kardal's palace. "There's something in there with me. It roars, Papa."

My heart pounded. But before I could ask him what he meant, he raised his head. The fit had passed, what ever it was. He looked tired, but lucid.

His fingers beat an irregular tattoo on the dusty floor. "I didn't think you'd come."