Chaos Choreography
Page 90
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The elder ghoul stared at me for a moment. Then, slowly, he said, “No.”
“No?” I asked.
“No,” he repeated. “No, there are not six basements. That was our home. Haven’t you been listening? For fifty years, we lived and died in the warehouses he tore down to build his theater.”
The warehouses had been torn down before Adrian got there, but somehow I didn’t think pointing that out was going to make me any friends just now. “What are you saying?”
“He’s saying six basements wouldn’t be enough for a community the size of ours,” said his daughter. “That place is a honeycomb. There are dozens of underground rooms. Some of them probably still have hidebehind illusions covering the doors, too. We may have all lived in the same place, but that didn’t mean they ever trusted anyone who wasn’t part of their clade.”
“Well, Verity, I’m impressed,” said Dominic. “You seem to have found the only reality show filmed atop a labyrinth. Good for you. That’s some remarkable bad decision making.”
I slanted a look in his direction. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Me? Make fun of you? Never. I’m simply doing my best to mock your way of looking at the world, to conceal my own sudden, bone-deep terror.”
“Right.” I took a deep breath before putting on my most winsome smile, looking back to the ghoul, and asking, “I don’t suppose you have some sort of a map?”
The ghoul blinked.
They had a map. It was incomplete, missing most of the areas constructed by the hidebehinds, but it was a map, and all it cost us was the promise of eight hundred dollars and a favor to be determined later. (I would have been happier with more money and less favor. “Favors to be determined later” are the way people wind up breaking into tombs looking for the lost idols of spider gods who really just want to be left alone. To select a purposefully nonspecific example.)
“So now what?” asked Malena. She was walking on my left, keeping close. I couldn’t blame her. The ghouls had followed us out of the house and were on the lawn with Aurelie, watching us go. They weren’t the only ones. I wouldn’t have wanted to wager a guess as to how much of the neighborhood was nonhuman, expats from their private, lost community—but I was assuming it was more than just the one household. Shadows moved on front porches as we passed them, and bushes rustled in ways that implied watchers larger than the average raccoon.
“Now we head back to the theater and start searching the basements for signs of our missing people.” I couldn’t say “bodies.” Not yet. Alice was one of the most dangerous women in the world. She couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t believable.
“I’m sorry, but no,” said Dominic.
I actually stopped walking to stare at him. Malena did the same. If anything, she looked more surprised than I did.
“What did you just say?” I asked.
“I said no,” he said. “You can’t return to the theater right now.”
“Dominic, my grandmother—”
“Is a terrifying force who can take care of herself. That, or she’s no longer in a position to suffer. Either way, we need to retain access to the theater. I can get inside, but that won’t help us in the daylight.” His expression, as much as I could see it through the gloom, was grim. “You must return to the apartment. Get enough sleep to let you dance tomorrow. Both of you. I’ll go to the theater and search until the morning shift arrives. I’ll meet you out back with the map and with anything I’ve managed to learn before I go to get some rest.”
It was a good plan. It was better than “we all run around half-cocked and hope things work out for the best.” It still felt like a betrayal. “I should be there. She’s my grandmother. And we shouldn’t be splitting the party.”
“She’s my family, too, and I don’t have other commitments,” said Dominic. “Let me do this. Let me help. As for splitting the party . . . that was inevitable. I can’t exactly have a sleepover. At least this way, I’m doing something useful.”
“You heard the man,” said Malena. “I really don’t want to get eliminated. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re eight for eight in losing the people whose names come up. My plans depend on me not being dead.”
“Fine, fine,” I said. “But you’re coming back to the apartment with me before you go.”
Dominic frowned. “Why?”
“Because you’re taking some of the mice with you.”
“No?” I asked.
“No,” he repeated. “No, there are not six basements. That was our home. Haven’t you been listening? For fifty years, we lived and died in the warehouses he tore down to build his theater.”
The warehouses had been torn down before Adrian got there, but somehow I didn’t think pointing that out was going to make me any friends just now. “What are you saying?”
“He’s saying six basements wouldn’t be enough for a community the size of ours,” said his daughter. “That place is a honeycomb. There are dozens of underground rooms. Some of them probably still have hidebehind illusions covering the doors, too. We may have all lived in the same place, but that didn’t mean they ever trusted anyone who wasn’t part of their clade.”
“Well, Verity, I’m impressed,” said Dominic. “You seem to have found the only reality show filmed atop a labyrinth. Good for you. That’s some remarkable bad decision making.”
I slanted a look in his direction. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Me? Make fun of you? Never. I’m simply doing my best to mock your way of looking at the world, to conceal my own sudden, bone-deep terror.”
“Right.” I took a deep breath before putting on my most winsome smile, looking back to the ghoul, and asking, “I don’t suppose you have some sort of a map?”
The ghoul blinked.
They had a map. It was incomplete, missing most of the areas constructed by the hidebehinds, but it was a map, and all it cost us was the promise of eight hundred dollars and a favor to be determined later. (I would have been happier with more money and less favor. “Favors to be determined later” are the way people wind up breaking into tombs looking for the lost idols of spider gods who really just want to be left alone. To select a purposefully nonspecific example.)
“So now what?” asked Malena. She was walking on my left, keeping close. I couldn’t blame her. The ghouls had followed us out of the house and were on the lawn with Aurelie, watching us go. They weren’t the only ones. I wouldn’t have wanted to wager a guess as to how much of the neighborhood was nonhuman, expats from their private, lost community—but I was assuming it was more than just the one household. Shadows moved on front porches as we passed them, and bushes rustled in ways that implied watchers larger than the average raccoon.
“Now we head back to the theater and start searching the basements for signs of our missing people.” I couldn’t say “bodies.” Not yet. Alice was one of the most dangerous women in the world. She couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t believable.
“I’m sorry, but no,” said Dominic.
I actually stopped walking to stare at him. Malena did the same. If anything, she looked more surprised than I did.
“What did you just say?” I asked.
“I said no,” he said. “You can’t return to the theater right now.”
“Dominic, my grandmother—”
“Is a terrifying force who can take care of herself. That, or she’s no longer in a position to suffer. Either way, we need to retain access to the theater. I can get inside, but that won’t help us in the daylight.” His expression, as much as I could see it through the gloom, was grim. “You must return to the apartment. Get enough sleep to let you dance tomorrow. Both of you. I’ll go to the theater and search until the morning shift arrives. I’ll meet you out back with the map and with anything I’ve managed to learn before I go to get some rest.”
It was a good plan. It was better than “we all run around half-cocked and hope things work out for the best.” It still felt like a betrayal. “I should be there. She’s my grandmother. And we shouldn’t be splitting the party.”
“She’s my family, too, and I don’t have other commitments,” said Dominic. “Let me do this. Let me help. As for splitting the party . . . that was inevitable. I can’t exactly have a sleepover. At least this way, I’m doing something useful.”
“You heard the man,” said Malena. “I really don’t want to get eliminated. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re eight for eight in losing the people whose names come up. My plans depend on me not being dead.”
“Fine, fine,” I said. “But you’re coming back to the apartment with me before you go.”
Dominic frowned. “Why?”
“Because you’re taking some of the mice with you.”
