Authors: Scott Westerfeld

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Horror & Ghost Stories, #Performing Arts, #Music

The Last Days (5 page)

BOOK: The Last Days

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“Are you sure you won’t be wanting a ride home, Pearl?” he rumbled softly.

“Positive. Thanks, though.”

Mom likes all conversations to include her, so she scooted closer across the limo’s backseat. “What time did you get in last night anyway?”

“Right after eleven.”

She pursed her lips the slightest discernible amount, showing she knew I was lying, and I gave her the tiniest possible eye-roll to show I didn’t care.

“Well, see you
at
eleven tonight, then.”

I snorted a little for Elvis. The only way Mom was coming home before midnight was if they ran out of champagne at the museum, or if the mummies all got loose.

I imagined old-movie mummies in tattered bandages. Nice and nonscary.

Then her voice softened. “Give my love to Minerva.”

“Okay,” I said, waving and turning away, flinching as the door boomed shut behind me. “I’ll try.”

Luz de la Sueño opened the door and waved me in quick, like she was worried about flies zipping in behind. Or maybe she didn’t want the neighbors to see her new decorations, seeing as how Halloween was more than two months away.

My nostrils wrinkled at the smell of garlic tea brewing, not to mention the other scents coming from the kitchen, overpowering and unidentifiable. These days, New York seemed to disappear behind me when I came through Minerva’s door, as if the brownstone had one foot in some other city, somewhere ancient and crumbling, overgrown.

“She is much better,” Luz said, ushering me toward the stairs. “And excited you are visiting.”

“That’s great,” I said, but I hesitated for a moment in the foyer. Luz’s take on Minerva’s illness had always been a bit too mystical for me, but after what I’d witnessed the night before, I figured the esoterica was at least a little noncrazy.

“Luz, can I ask you a question? About something I saw?”

“You saw something? Outside?” Her eyes widened, drifting to the shaded windows.

“No, back in Manhattan.”

“
Sí?
” Luz said. The intensity of her gaze was freaking me out as usual.

I usually understand where people fit, organizing them in my head, like arranging Mom’s good china in its case. But I was totally clueless about Luz—where she came from, how old she was, whether she’d grown up rich or poor. Her English wasn’t fluent, but her accent was careful, her grammar exact. Her unlined face looked young, but she wore these old-lady dresses, sometimes hats with veils. Her hands were calloused and full of wiry strength, and three fat skull rings grinned at me from her big-knuckled fingers.

Luz was all about skulls, but they didn’t seem to mean to her what they meant to me and my friends. She was more gospel than goth.

“There was this woman,” I said. “Around the corner from us. She went crazy, throwing all this stuff out the window.”

“
Sí
.” Luz nodded. “That is the sickness. It is spreading now. You are still careful, yes?”

“Yep. No boys for me.” I put my hands up. Luz believed everything was because of too much sex—part of her religious thing. “But it looked like her own stuff. Not like when Minerva broke up with Mark, hating everything he’d given her.”

“Yes, but it is the same. The sickness, it makes the infected not want to be what they were before. They must throw away everything to make the change.” She crossed herself—
the change
was what she was trying to prevent in Minerva.

“But Min didn’t trash all her stuff, did she?”

“Not so much
.
” Luz fingered the cross around her neck. “She is very spiritual, not joined to things. But to people, and to
la musica
.”

“Oh.” That made a kind of sense. When Minerva had cracked up, she’d thrown away Mark and the rest of Nervous System first. And then her classes and all our friends, one by one. I’d stuck with her the longest, until everyone hated me for staying friends with her, and then she’d finally tossed me too.

That meant Moz had been right: the crazy woman had been getting rid of her own stuff, throwing her whole life out the window. I wondered how he’d known.

I thought about the mirrors upstairs, all covered with velvet. Min didn’t want to see her own face, to hear her own name—suddenly it all made sense.

Luz touched my shoulder. “That is why it is good you are here. I think maybe now, Pearl, you can do more than I.”

I felt the music player in my pocket, loaded up with Big Riff. I couldn’t do anything myself—I wasn’t some kind of skull-wielding esoterica—but maybe this fexcellent music . . .

Luz started up the stairs, waving for me to follow.

“One more thing: I think I saw angels.”

She stopped and turned, crossing herself again. “
Angeles de la lucha?
They were fast? On the rooftops?”

I nodded. “Like you told me to watch for around here.” “And they took this woman?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I got the hell out of there.”

“Good.” She reached out and stroked my face, her fingers rough and smelling of herbs. “It is not for you, the struggle that is coming.”

“So where do the angels take you?” I whispered.

Luz closed her eyes. “To somewhere far away.”

“What, like heaven?”

She shook her head. “No. On an airplane. To a place where they make the change firm in you. So you can fight for them in the struggle.” She took my hand. “But that is not for you—not for Minerva. Come.”

The rest of the way up, there were lots of new decorations to check out. The stairway walls were covered with wooden crosses, a thousand little stamped-metal figures nailed into each one. The figures were nonweird shapes—shoes, dresses, trees, dogs, musical instruments—but the wild jumble of them made me wonder if someone had put normality into a blender, then set it on disintegrate.

And of course there were the skulls. Their painted black eyes stared down at us from the shadows, every floor a little darker as we climbed. The windows up here were blacked out, the mirrors draped with red velvet. Street noises faded as we climbed, the air growing as still as a sunken ship.

Outside Minerva’s room, Luz bent to pick up a towel from the floor, sighing apologetically. “It is only me tonight. The family are more tired every day.”

“Anything I can do to help?” I whispered.

Luz smiled. “You are here. That is help.”

She pulled a few leaves from her pocket, crushing them together in her hands. They smelled like fresh-cut grass, or mint. She knelt and rubbed her palms on my sneakers and the legs of my jeans.

I’d always kind of rolled my eyes at her spells before, but tonight I felt in need of protection.

“Maybe you will sing to her.”

I swallowed, wondering if Luz had somehow divined what I’d been planning. “Sing? But you always said—”

“Sí.”
Her eyes sparked in the darkness. “But she is better now. However, to keep you safe . . .”

She pressed a familiar little doll into my hands, stroking its tattered red yarn hair into place. It stared up at me, smiling maniacally, one button eye dangling from two black threads, setting my stomach fluttering again.

The doll was the creepiest of Luz’s rituals of protection. But suddenly it made sense. It had always been Min’s favorite back when we were little, the only object she’d ever really been attached to, besides the ring she’d thrown at Mark in front of the whole System. I was glad to have the doll tonight, even if Minerva hadn’t been violent since her family had given up on drugs and doctors and had switched to Luz.

I wondered how they’d found her. Were esotericas listed in the phone book? Was Esoterica a cool band name, or too lateral? Was the Big Riff in my pocket really a kind of magic—

“Don’t be afraid,” Luz whispered. Then she opened the door with one strong hand, the other pushing me into the darkness. “Go and sing.”

6. MADNESS

-MINERVA-

Pearl was glowing. Her face shimmered as the door swung closed, setting the candle flickering jaggedly.

“You’re shiny,” I murmured, squinting.

She swallowed, licking her upper lip. I could smell her nervous saltiness.

“It’s hot out.”

“It’s summer, right?”

“Yeah, middle of August.” Pearl frowned, even though I’d been right.

I closed my eyes, remembering April, May ... all the way up to graduation. Pearl was jealous because she had to go back to Juilliard next year, though everyone else in the Nerv—

The thing inside me flinched.

Zombie made a grumpy noise and rolled over on my belly. His big green eyes opened slowly, surveying Pearl.

“I have good news,” she said softly. When I first got sick, I hated the sound of her voice, but not anymore. I was getting better—I didn’t hate Pearl, or anyone human. All I hated now was the Vile Thing she brought every time she visited. It hung from her hands, one eyeball dangling, leering at me.

I tried to smile, but the lenses of Pearl’s glasses caught the candlelight, bright as a camera flash, and I had to turn away.

She raised her voice a little. “You okay?”

“Sure. It’s just a little bright today.” Sometimes I blew out the candle, but that made Luz cross. She said I’d have to get used to it if I was ever going to leave this room again.

But my room was nice. It smelled like Zombie and me and the thing inside us.

“So I met these guys,” Pearl said, talking fast now, forgetting to whisper. “They’ve been playing together for a while. They’re nine kinds of raw, not like Nervous—”

I must have flinched again, because Pearl went quiet. Zombie
mur-row
ed and dropped heavily to the floor. He started toward her, winding his way through my old toys and clothes and sheet music, all the objects on the floor that crept closer every night while I slept.

“We weren’t so bad,” I managed to say.

“Yeah, but these guys are fawesome.” She paused, smiling at herself. Pearl always liked silly, made-up words. “They’re sort of New Sound, like Morgan’s Army, but more raw. Like when we started, before you-know-who messed up your head. But without six composers trying to write one song. These two guys are much more . . .”

“Controllable?” I said.

Pearl frowned, and the Vile Thing in her hands glared at me.

“I was going to say
mellow
.”

Zombie had tiptoed up behind Pearl, like he’d been planning to wind through her legs. But he was slinking close to the floor now, sniffing at her shoes suspiciously. He didn’t like the smell of anyone but me these days.

“But I was thinking, and maybe this is stupid.” Pearl shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “If these guys work out, and you keep getting better—”

“I’m already better.”

“That’s what Luz says. The three of us aren’t ready yet, but maybe by the time we are . . .” Her voice wavered, sounding fragile. “It would be great if you could sing for us.”

Her words made me close my eyes, something huge moving through my body, half painful, half restless. It took a moment to recognize, because it had been gone for so long.

To twist and turn, spreading out and surrounding people, drowning them—my voice seething, boiling, filling up the air.

I wanted to sing again. . . .

A slow sigh deflated me. What if it still hurt, like everything else that wasn’t Zombie or darkness? I had to test myself first.

“Could you do something for me, Pearl?”

“Anything.”

“Say my name.”

“Crap, no way. Luz would kick my ass.”

I smelled Pearl’s fear in the room and heard Zombie’s soft footfalls retreating from her. He jumped up onto the bed, warm and nervous next to me. I opened my eyes, trying not to squint in the candle-brightness.

Pearl was sweating again, pacing like Zombie does because Luz never lets him go outside. “She said that singing might be okay. But your name? Are you
sure
?”

“I’m not sure, Pearl. That’s why you have to.”

She swallowed. “Okay . . . Min.”

I snorted. “Shiny, smelly Pearl. Can’t even do the whole thing?”

She stared at me for a long moment, then said softly, “Minerva?”

I shuddered out of habit, but the sickness didn’t come. Then she said the name again, and nothing swept through me. Nothing but relief. Even Luz had never managed that.

It felt outlandish and magnificent, as naughty as a cigarette after voice class. I closed my eyes and smiled.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

“Very. And I want to sing for your band, Pearl. You brought music, didn’t you?”

BOOK: The Last Days

8.44Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

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