Jaclyn Dolamore - Dark Metropolis

Freddy didn’t reach for the drink when she put it down. His hands were in his lap, well away from hers, and she wondered again if he had seen the strange vision, too. He was certainly strange enough himself. His silver hair reminded her of the color plate of the young sorcerer in her book of fairy tales. Freddy’s eyes were gray, with a hint of shadow beneath them. She almost might have thought him a rustic, too, only Gerik was obviously old money. It didn’t make sense.

“You’ve grown awfully quiet, Trouble,” Freddy said. “Something on your mind?”

“My thoughts aren’t available on tonight’s menu.” She raised her brows, trying to make a joke of it. “But your food is almost ready. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Nan crossed paths with her by the kitchens. “I see you’re serving Gerik Valkenrath,” she said. “We don’t see the chancellor’s circle in here often.”

“Valkenrath?” Thea glanced at the balcony. “I wouldn’t recognize him.” Nan was much more interested in politics than she was.

“He’s been in government even since the imperial days. The revolutionary papers are always talking about all the terrible things he’s involved in.”

“He’s here with a boy….” She hesitated, torn between wanting to mention Freddy and the vision and wanting to pretend it never happened. “I don’t think they’re related, because he called Gerik by his name, so I’m not sure who he is. His hair is silver.”

“How mysterious. Meanwhile, I’ve got Helene Lapp, and she’s awful, asking for drinks I’ve never heard of, wanting the veal and cream sauce without the cream sauce, then complaining that it tastes dry.”

“Helene Lapp the actress?”

“Who else?”

“Did she bring her tiger?” Thea had just read about the pet tiger in the society pages.

“I don’t think the club would let a tiger in, even to the private rooms,” Nan said. “And she’s doing a good job of tearing me to shreds all on her own. I’d better get this to her while it’s still hot enough to burn her mouth.”

Thea brought Freddy and Gerik their food, but they didn’t say much more, and now the rest of the balcony seats were filling up, so she couldn’t linger. Anyway, she wasn’t sure what else she expected to happen. The vision had come and gone.

Before he left, Freddy said he hoped to see her next time, but that might not mean a thing. The rest of her shift seemed to go on and on, but at least she was kept too busy to worry much over what had happened.

“How did it turn out with Helene Lapp?” she asked Nan at the end of the night.

Nan waved a few bills. “Not bad after all. Before she left, she said she wanted to put me in her pocket and take me home. I guess I should take that as a compliment.”

“You probably had a dangerous look in your eyes when she was complaining about the veal, and it reminded her of her pet tiger.”

Nan laughed as she tugged her hat on; it was one of the new styles that bared the forehead.

“That’s a lovely new hat,” Thea said. “I’m sorry I haven’t gone out shopping in so long.”

“Don’t worry about it; I can fend for myself,” Nan said. “Is the color all right? They told me it was dark blue.”

“Yes, and it’s perfect on you.” Some time ago, Nan had confessed that she couldn’t actually see colors and asked if Thea might like to help her shop. Thea always felt less guilty leaving Mother for a shopping trip with Nan, telling herself it was for a noble purpose. But it was also fun. Nan made her own clothes—gorgeous dresses with cunning details like cape collars and appliqués. Sometimes she talked of having a dress shop and making Thea the fabric buyer.

Nan handed her one of her bills. “Cheer up and take care of yourself. Buy some bonbons the next time you get groceries.”

Thea didn’t dare try to give the money back. That never went anywhere with Nan. So she just thanked her and then set off down the dark and lonely streets to get home before her mother woke up.

Freddy was used to being woken at the crack of dawn, but not after a night like last night, with drinks and loud music and flirtation—and that touch. He had slept poorly, remembering both the dead man in his military uniform and the look of shock on the waitress’s face, as if she’d seen a ghost.

“You look tired, lad,” Gerik noted after breakfast, leading Freddy into the workroom, where a single fresh corpse rested on the table. “But you’ll be happy to know it’s just one today.”

“I’m not that tired.” Freddy didn’t want Gerik to think he couldn’t handle a night out. He nodded to the door, dismissing the older man, and pushed up his sleeves as he appraised the body.

She was young, younger than they usually were, eighteen at most. Attractive in a modern way that was more interesting than lovely. Her hair was shingled close to her head, enhancing the lines of her cheekbones. Her lips were narrow and still had lipstick on them. Her body was narrow, too, dressed in a gray wool coat.

There were no marks on her body, so she must have taken poison or pills. Gerik said it was no use wondering about people Freddy would never see again. But he had to wonder anyway.

And he remembered them. He felt he had a connection with each one, like an invisible thread. He never forgot the face of a person he’d revived, even though the bodies were countless by now.

He placed his hands over hers, surrendering to the magic, letting a stream of life flow from his hands and into hers, tingling all the way down to his feet before the sensation passed. It always left him slightly dizzy, and today it seemed especially potent, shuddering through him so that he had to adjust his feet to stay balanced. It worked through him, and with him, but it was greater than him, too. The girl’s cold fingers warmed.

He smiled. This moment never failed to satisfy.

Her skin remained pale, but life flowed back into it. He could feel the return of her spirit and, finally, see the flutter of eyelids that had probably been pressed shut by another hand not long ago.

She took a breath and coughed. He tightened his hand on hers and helped her sit up.

“Where am I?” She seemed disoriented, which was normal, and angry, which was also normal enough. “What is this place?”

“My workroom.”

“Workroom? Are you a doctor?” she said. “You don’t look any older than I am.”

“Not exactly.”

She hunched forward, eyes darting around the room, across the shelves lined with vials and powders. Her glance was furtive and troubled.

“Who are you?” she asked.

Uncle had said he should never tell anyone who he was or exactly what he could do. People will do anything for immortality, he’d said. They’d tear out your liver and eat it if they thought it would keep them from death. You must keep your secrets. “I’m here to help you.”

Her eyes widened, as if she suddenly remembered something important. “You have to let them go.”

“Let who go?” Her intensity gave him pause.

She reached under her coat and released the knot of her necktie with one tug. Her dress was familiar. Too familiar. Dark blue, white collar, slim necktie—the same clothing the Telephone Club waitress had worn the previous night. Then, in one quick motion, she pulled the tie around his neck.

He jerked away from the table, pain jabbing through him as she tightened her grip around his windpipe, and she came with him. Where were the guards? They were supposed to be just outside the door! He reached back and grabbed fistfuls of her coat, and when that failed to break her hold, he stomped his heel on her toes. She gasped, but she didn’t let go.