The Heartless City (7 page)

But the Lord Mayor closed the zoo a few years after the quarantine, as the isolation and lack of resources made it too hard to maintain. The larger, more dangerous beasts were put down, the aquarium was drained, and creatures in need of special heating quickly died on their own. Now the grounds were locked and barred, and not even beggars or fugitive Hydes would dare to venture inside, as rumors of poisonous snakes, diseased bats, and mutated, inbred descendants of animals left behind abounded. So when Iris approached the back gate, slid between two warped bars, and climbed through a broken window, Elliot hesitated.

“Come on,” she called above the furious roar of the rushing wind.

They needed shelter―both from the snowstorm and from more roaming Hydes, so Elliot squeezed through the bars and climbed up behind her through the window, grateful to find the alcoholic sluggishness leaving his veins.

The dark room was empty except for a desk and some yellowing papers, and Elliot guessed it was once some kind of records or finance office. His muscles relaxed, and he let out a breath, but then Iris swept right by him and opened the creaking door.

“Where are you going?” he whispered, though there wasn’t a sound or a sign of life except for the whistling wind.

She gestured toward the broken window. “We’ll freeze if we stay in here.”

Without waiting, she walked out the door, and Elliot picked up his feet and followed her through a pitch-black hallway. The warm glow of her confidence guided him like a lamp, but then she stopped at a large, metal door, and his heart stood still.

“This is the Reptile House,” he said. “We can’t go in here.”

Bitterness bloomed in the darkness as she muttered, “Stop joking around.”

She gripped the doorknob, sending a bolt of panic through Elliot’s veins, and before he could stop himself, he reached out and grabbed her by the wrist. Her heart exploded with fear and she jerked her arm away, clutching the gun she still held in her other hand. Elliot froze, stunned that a girl who’d singlehandedly killed a Hyde could be afraid of
him
. She’d just seen proof he wasn’t infected, as the only people Hydes
didn’t
hunt were the dead and other Hydes. But then he remembered that monsters weren’t the only threat women faced.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, raising his hands. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just that I don’t think you realize how dangerous this place is. The zoo is filled with poisonous, diseased, and mutated creatures. The Reptile House especially.”

Even in the darkness, he could see her knit her brow. “You weren’t joking,” she murmured in disbelief. “You really don’t know.”

It was Elliot’s turn to look dumbfounded. “Don’t know what?”

“Here,” she said, gripping and turning the knob. “Let me show you.”

When she opened the door, Elliot jumped―not because of what he saw, but because of what he heard. The thunderous sound of beating wings erupted beyond the doorway, as well as the rustle of branches, leaves, and the tinkle of running water. The Reptile House he remembered was a cold hall of bare cement with cages along the walls, but now the floor was covered with soil, and all the cages were gone. Instead, it was filled with ferns, bushes, and even some mid-sized trees, protected by a ceiling of glass and lit by the light of the moon. A tiny waterfall trickled into a pond to Elliot’s right, and a wooden path stretched from where he stood to the back of the house. But the strangest sight of all was the multitude of birds. Pheasants flapped through the braches, quails skittered across the ground, and ducks and geese splashed up and out of the pond at the disturbance.

“Bloody hell,” he murmured under his breath before he could think, but when he glanced at Iris she didn’t seem to be offended.

“You really didn’t know about this,” she marveled, closing the door.

“No,” he answered, starting down the path. “What is this place?”

“It’s the Lord Mayor’s aviary. The forest of the king.”

His stomach dropped again when he heard her treasonous tone. “What do you mean?”

“Apparently, the Empire’s shipments aren’t enough for him, so after he closed the zoo, he made it his personal food reserve.”

A duck waddled past Elliot’s feet, and he stopped and turned around. Iris’s eyes were glowing like liquid sunlight in the darkness. “You eat these birds as well,” she said. “Most nights, I imagine.”

Elliot blinked and then stupidly lowered his gaze to his polished shoes. Never once had he stopped to think about where his food came from. How hard must it be for people like Iris to come by decent meat, something he’d been taking for granted almost all his life. Ashamed, he ran his hand through his hair, only dimly realizing he’d lost his hat somewhere in the graveyard.

“There are sheep here, too, on the northern grounds,” she went on. “Some cows and goats as well. And the Lion House was converted into a giant chicken coop. Those rumors about killer bats and snakes are meant to scare people off. The Lord Mayor wants to keep his private farm private.”

Elliot furrowed his brow. “How did you find out about it?”

“I knew the man who ran the Reptile House before the zoo closed. My mother… well, circumstances had left her unable to work, and he would pay me to bring him rats to feed to the lizards and snakes.”

Elliot’s eyes widened. “You mean you…
caught
rats in the street?”

She met his gaze as directly as Cam’s when he’d asked about her father. “I’m not ashamed. We needed the money. It probably saved our lives.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant. That’s… that’s one of the bravest things I have ever heard.”

Her lips parted, betraying the shock that broke across her chest. “What?”

“You risked your life by doing that, and you were only a child. Iris―I mean, Miss Faye,” he said, cursing his face as it burned. “You are the single bravest person I have ever met.”

The moonlight revealed no blush in her cheeks, but Elliot sensed a sudden pulse of heat inside her heart, and it quickened his blood and emboldened him to take a step toward her.

“You saved my life tonight, Miss Faye. You
killed an active Hyde
. I’ve never seen a woman or man attack one the way you did.”

She stared at him for a moment and then looked off into the trees. “My mother made sure I knew how to defend myself―not only from Hydes. She said it was the most important thing a girl could learn. Soon after we moved here, she paid this retired boxer to teach me how to fight. Back then, well… for the first few years we lived here we had money.”

“But where did you learn how to use a gun?”

“My mother grew up on the prairie; she knew how to use a gun. I haven’t shot one in years, however. They’re much too expensive now.”

Elliot furrowed his brow. “Are you telling me you’ve never killed a Hyde before tonight?”

She turned back and nodded, her lips curling up into a smile, and Elliot shook his head.

“It looked like you’d done it a hundred times. And the way you picked up that marble wing… how did you manage that?”

“You’d be surprised what a little bit of adrenaline can do.” A small laugh escaped her. “Well
, a lot
of it actually.”

Elliot shook his head in wonder. “But why did you do it at all? You hardly even know me, and you felt such anger toward―” He shut his mouth, his throat going dry as he realized his mistake.

“What do you mean?” she asked, uneasiness gripping her stomach. “I never felt any anger. We had a pleasant conversation.”

“No, no. I’m sorry. That―that wasn’t what I meant. It’s just that most people wouldn’t have risked their lives for a total stranger.”

“You were going to die. How could I possibly stand by and do nothing?”

He smiled and shook his head again. “Most people would have done that. But you, Miss Faye… you’re different. You are absolutely fearless.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but then a quail flew across the path, squawking and nearly smacking her in the face as it flapped by. Caught off guard, she screamed and ducked, cowering on the ground, and once it was gone, she looked back up, and they both exploded with laughter.

“Clearly, I’m not fearless,” she said, straightening up again.

“Well, quail can be rather terrifying.” He laughed. “Those little beaks.”

She smiled and smoothed down her dress. “You know, I am afraid sometimes. I just don’t let my fears get in the way of what I want.”

“And what is that?” he asked, beaming. “What is it you want?”

The remnants of her laughter died like a breeze in a sealed-off room, replaced by a longing that swelled in her chest and spread through the air between them. Its grip was magnetic, like how he imagined the pull of the ocean tide, and he found himself holding his breath, caught in the groundswell of her wanting. After a moment, she glanced behind her, staring at something beyond the trees, and when she turned around, she searched his face with uncertain eyes. Finally, she took a breath and said, “I can show you.”

She started to move, but then she glanced back down at the gun in her hand. After another pause, she raised her arm and held it out. “Here,” she said. “We may not be safe from quails, but we’re safe from Hydes.”

Elliot stared at the gun, his breath still caught inside his throat. The gesture was one of great trust, even if she could probably still cut his throat in a matter of seconds. He reached out and gently took the pistol from her hand, but as he did, his finger brushed the inside of her palm. Fire shot through his veins, and he jerked his hand away, shoving the gun in the holster strapped across his pounding chest. He stared at the ground, grateful she couldn’t feel what
he
was feeling, but when he looked back up, he saw the trace of a blush in her cheeks. It was gone in a moment, however, wiped away like a trick of the light, and he scolded himself for thinking the fire was anything but his own.

“The head of the Reptile House was discharged as soon as the zoo was closed,” she said, stepping off the path and beckoning Elliot to follow. “He was a kind man, and he knew about my interests, so he left me the only key to his office, back behind these trees.”

Elliot hurried after her, dodging bushes and birds until they reached the far right wall. There, in a heavy shadow, was the outline of a door.

“The people who tend the birds have never bothered to break inside,” she continued, shoving a branch aside and pulling a key from her coat pocket. “I come here sometimes when… well, when I need to get away.”

She turned the key, opened the door, climbed the single step that led to the threshold, and walked inside. Elliot followed, shivering as he entered the dark room, which seemed utterly frigid after the warmth of the aviary. Light bloomed as Iris struck a match and lit a lamp, revealing a small, windowless office much like the first one they entered. This one, however, was not bare but covered with framed pictures―charts, maps, and scientific illustrations of birds. The desk that contained the lamp was smooth, clean, and free of dust, and three worn, leather-bound books were stacked upon its surface.

“The zoo had a real aviary once. Do you remember?” she asked.

“Yes. But it was outside. And it was only a handful of cages.”

“Exactly,” she said, tossing the match in a bin. “A small collection. Not nearly enough for a long-term, sustainable food supply.” She gestured toward the walls. “These belonged to the man who ran it. He was a scientist who traveled the world studying birds. Well, I suppose he still is,” she added. “He was lucky. When the quarantine was enacted, he was somewhere in Africa.”

Her gaze drifted up to the maps, and her wave of longing returned, but then an enormous gander waddled aggressively into the room, honking, charging Elliot, and snapping at his legs. He yelped, shooed the bird back out, and then slammed and latched the door, but then he realized how inappropriate such an action was. He and Iris had clearly been unchaperoned in the aviary, but being alone in a dim, closed room seemed much more improper. He turned around to see if she was frightened or offended, but she was nearly falling over the desk with wild laughter.

“Well,” he said, attempting to hide his blush, “you must admit, that gander was much larger than the quail that accosted you.”

She straightened up and took a few deep breaths. “That’s true, he was. And in spite of what you may have gathered from the quail encounter, I actually adore birds. That’s what I wanted to show you.”

She seated herself at the desk and gestured for him to sit as well, so he picked up a wooden stool from beside the door and pulled up beside her.

“Before he left, the reptile master gave me everything the ornithologist left behind. That’s where I got the maps and illustrations, as well as these.” She picked up the stack of leather-bound books as if she were lifting a child and placed them on her lap, running her fingers over the surface. “These are his journals―all the research and findings from his travels. The top one is from Antarctica; he studied a group of penguins there before he came to the zoo.” Delicately, she held out the stack and placed it in Elliot’s hands. “The other two are from Rio de Janeiro and India.”

Elliot tried to be gentle as he opened the first book’s cover, but Iris’s pulsing excitement made it hard to steady his hand, and he wondered if she’d ever shared these treasures with anyone else. It occurred to him then how isolated and lonely her life must be. No other girl in the city could have half her education, not even the somewhat cultured ladies of the upper class. How frustrating must it be to have a full and brilliant mind but no one in your life to understand or stimulate it?

“This is written in Latin,” he said, frowning down at the page.

“It is,” she beamed. “The reptile master couldn’t believe I could read it.”

“But why would the ornithologist bother to write his journal in Latin?”

Iris didn’t blush, and her breathing didn’t quicken, but Elliot felt a sudden surge of embarrassment within her. “The other two are written in English―they’re his original journals―but the one from Antarctica is a copy he transcribed. It was going to be published just before the quarantine, and I think he only wanted scientists to be able to read it.”