Everwild (Skinjacker #2)

Everwild (Skinjacker #2) Page 23

Their standard operating procedure had always been to settle in less populated areas, set up their various soul traps, then return sometime later to see if the traps had sprung. Then, as the population within the Hindenburg grew, she became slightly more daring, setting down in small towns and villages that might have some rudimentary organization to their Afterlight population.

She would address the small gatherings of Afterlights in these towns. Sometimes they would join her, and climb aboard, sometimes not. If they chose not to join her, she would leave them with whatever gifts she could spare, and the nagging feeling that they missed out on something wonderful. By the time she came to Chicago, she had ninety-three Afterlights in her protective care.

"The city's run by a Death Boss!" said Speedo. "That's what he calls himself! A Death Boss!"

"Just a rumor," Mary said, although she suspected that the rumor was true. She had heard that he even named himself after the city's most notorious gangster. "Last month you were telling me that Chicago didn't even exist!"

"I didn't say that," said Speedo. "I said that it didn't exist in Everlost."

"And yet now we know that it does," Mary pointed out. "Illumination defeats ignorance every time."

"What if he captures us and turns us into slaves?" pleaded Speedo. "Then what?"

"Dictators who rule with an iron fist are motivated by self-interest," Mary lectured, "and if Pugsy Capone does rule like a dictator, it would not serve his interests to enslave us."

"Are you sure of that?"

Mary sighed. "No," she admitted. "But we're going anyway."

They circled the city a final time, then descended toward the grounds of the Columbian Exhibition. * * *

The World Columbian Exhibition of 1893 was perhaps the greatest world's fair there had ever been. It filled a full square-mile along the shore of Lake Michigan, and looked more like Ancient Rome than Chicago. Magnificent domed buildings, column-lined courtyards, and glorious fountains stood at the heart of the fair, all of it so alabaster white it became known as the Great White City--blinding in the sun, and glowing mystically by moonlight. These towering colonnades and hallowed halls of industry stood as monuments to the power and permanence of man's creations.

Unfortunately it was all made of cheap plaster, and crumbled like a sandcastle once the fair was over.

However, the loss to the living world was a gift to Everlost. Here in Everlost, the Great White City still claimed the shoreline of Lake Michigan. The gilded Statue of the Republic forever towered resolutely at its heart, and George Ferris's great wheel--the original Ferris wheel--continued to turn relentless circles--still the tallest piece of Chicago to cross into Everlost.

In short, the place was larger than life, but then, so was Mary Hightower, and she orchestrated her arrival with royal style.

The Hindenburg settled in the "court of honor," the great courtyard at the heart of the White City, touching down in the reflecting pool that so eerily matched the giant zeppelin in size and shape, it appeared to belong there, fitting like a key in a lock. All around the court of honor, hundreds upon hundreds of Chicago Afterlights gathered to gawk as a ramp descended, and Mary's Afterlights marched out two by two, into the shallow reflecting pool in size order. They then parted, and faced inward, creating a gauntlet; a pathway of Afterlights for Mary to walk between.

They stood at attention, and all waited in silent anticipation. Then Mary emerged, walking slowly, regally, her green velvet dress just brushing the surface of the ankle-deep pool, making her appear to walk on water. She strode to the edge of the reflecting pool and then stopped, waiting patiently for the Chicago Afterlights to dredge up the nerve to approach her. They all looked downtrodden and scared, with circles under their wide eyes that gave them the disconcerting look of zombies--but those eyes weren't empty and mindless, they were full of dread--the first indication that all the rumors about Pugsy Capone were true.

Finally, a young girl, the bravest of these timid Afterlights, approached her and asked, "Are you here to send the Death Boss to hell?"

The question challenged Mary's balance, but only for an instant. She smiled at the girl warmly. "I'm here to help," she said. "Please tell Mr. Capone that Mary Hightower has come to see him."

The girl ran off, and Mary waited patiently, refusing to engage any of the other Afterlights in conversation, because she knew that would challenge Pugsy's power, and she didn't want to do that. Not yet, anyway.

Ten minutes later the girl came back, running as quickly as she had run off.

"His eminence will see you now."

"His eminence!" said Mary. "Isn't that a title reserved for the Pope, and other holy men?" The girl looked down modestly. "I wouldn't know, your highness."

"You don't have to call me that," Mary said. "You can just call me Miss Mary."

"Yes, Miss Mary," the girl said dutifully, and when she looked up at Mary, she had the slightest hint of a smile-- perhaps the first smile she'd had in ages.

She led Mary from the Court of Honor to a huge building labeled TRANSPORTATION. The doorway stood beneath a high golden arch. Apparently the boss of Chicago was receiving her with royal treatment.

"They said to bring you here," said the girl, but she wouldn't step over the threshold into the building.

"They?" asked Mary. "Whom do you mean?"

Suddenly figures emerged from the dark doorway, and hands grabbed her arms more forcefully than she was accustomed to.

"She means us."

They pulled her inside, shut the door in the little girl's face, and Mary was pulled forward into a huge, dimly lit space the size of an airplane hangar by a trio of beefy thugs.

The Hall of Transportation had been stripped of any transportation whatsoever. The towering space was empty except for a single wing-footed statue of Mercury in the center, to which the three thugs chained Mary, and as they closed the shackles around her wrists and ankles, she felt all her hopes fizzle.

"Which one of you buffoons is Pugsy Capone?" Mary snarled, disturbed not only by her situation, but by the viciousness of her own voice. She thought she could find poise in every circumstance. Apparently not.

"The Death Boss has better things to do than deal with prisoners," said the largest of the thugs. It appeared the "Death Boss" chose his personal foot soldiers for their strength, their intimidating faces, and for the clothes they had been wearing when they died. All three of them wore suits. From different time periods, of course, but suits nonetheless. They were all fifteen or so, although they looked older in their suits. The gray-suited thug to her right stepped forward, and recited for her the same thing he probably recited to every Afterlight unlucky enough to stumble into this miserable enclave.

"You are now a subject of Pugsy Capone, and as such, you have no rights beyond the ones Mr. Capone gives you, if any. You will speak only when spoken to, you will perform all tasks given to you. You will cast your eyes to the ground when Mr. Capone or any of us pass. Should you disobey any of these orders, you will be gagged, tied to a cinder block, and hurled out into the living world, where you will sink quickly to the center of the earth. Do you understand these things as they've been explained to you? Do you need anything repeated?"

They waited for Mary's response, but she said nothing, just glared at them, refusing to cast her eyes the slightest bit downward.

The gray-suited thug got right in her face and shouted, "I said, do you need anything repeated?"

"No," she finally said. "How long will I be imprisoned here?" "No questions!" he shouted. Then he said, "You'll stay like this as long as he wants you to. Maybe a month, maybe a year, maybe forever."

Speedo had been right--if only she had listened to him. She could only hope that Pugsy Capone would be curious enough to come see her himself--if only to gloat over his victory. A face-to-face encounter could only help her situation.

Mary finally cast her eyes down, and, satisfied, the gray-suited thug stepped back. "Your blimp is now the property of the Death Boss," he said, "and so are all your Afterlights."

Mary tugged at her chains but it did no good. Her miscalculation had not only cost Mary her own freedom, but her children as well. The anguish stabbed as deep as a blade in living flesh, but she would not let it show. Instead, she said with all the defiance she could muster, "It's not a blimp. Any imbecile can tell you it's a rigid airship."

To which the largest of the thugs calmly replied, "It is whatever Pugsy Capone says it is."

Then they left her there to stew in her own intentions, chained to a flying statue that couldn't fly.

Pugsy Capone, Death Boss of Chicago, Lord of the White City, was a very shrewd Afterlight. Shrewd enough to have trapped almost a thousand Afterlights under his "protection." He was a spirit who not only saw afterlife as a competition, but as a competition where points were scored by creating the greatest amount of misery. The thought of dethroning the infamous "Mary Queen of Snots," was the stuff of dreams for him, and had a very high point value, indeed. However, as Mary had hoped, the thrill of capturing her eventually gave way to his curiosity. It took a while--mainly because he had a new toy: the Hindenburg, which he insisted on calling a blimp, and no one dared to correct him--not even Speedo, who was told he'd be sleeping with the magma if he didn't pilot Pugsy anywhere he wanted to go.

It took a week for him to tire of tooling around the airspace above Chicago, and then his thoughts turned to the legendary girl sealed away in the Hall of Transportation. He would not lower himself to go to her; however, he had his three favored foot soldiers bring her to him.

After a week, Mary's spirit had not been broken. It would take more than shackles and solitude to humble Mary Hightower--although there were a few times that she became a bit delirious, and fantasized about Nick putting their battle aside, and barreling into Chicago on his train to rescue her. Her own fantasy infuriated her, because Mary was not, nor would ever be, a damsel in distress.

Finally Pugsy's boys arrived, unshackled her, and led her out into daylight, toward the giant Ferris wheel. She held herself high all the way there. Her presence there drew crowds that were quickly dispersed when the thugs gave them the evil eye.

The Ferris wheel was more than a mere amusement park ride. Its long rectangular gondolas were the size of railroad cars, each one capable of carrying dozens of people to vertigo-inducing heights. The door to the lowermost gondola was open, and Mary was led inside to what must have been the Death Boss's throne room.

The throne was a red leather armchair, and the boy who sat in it was not at all what Mary expected. Pugsy Capone was a chubby thirteen-year-old in a pinstriped double-breasted suit that was noticeably tight. Mary wondered whether Pugsy immediately decided that since he was stuck wearing the clothes of a gangster, he ought to be one, or if he had simply forgotten who he was, and so defined himself by his attire. Mary suspected he had been in Everlost at least fifty years, by the style of his suit.

It was easy to see how Pugsy had gotten his name. He had unpleasantly bulging eyes, and his nose was pushed up and back, exposing his nostrils, as if he had died while pressing his face up against a window. He looked so much like a pug dog, Mary half expected him to bark.