Tears well up, and I force them down. April squeezes my shoulder, then busies herself by lining up the leftover vials of hair dye on the bureau across the room.
“You’re pale. We need more of that sparkly eye shadow,” she says.
“Yes,” I agree. “We do.”
“I left some in Elliott’s room, before we left the city. I’ll call for Mina to fetch it.” Her new protégé seems happy to do April’s errands.
April helped me through my darkest moments, and now she’s doing the same for this delicate girl. When she comes back into the room, April has finished with my hair.
“It’s beautiful,” Mina says.
“Sit down,” April commands. “I’ll put makeup on you, too.” The girl smiles, but her expression is sad. She’s still in mourning for her brother, when every bit of happiness is followed by guilt. Mina pulls up a chair and April carefully lays out a selection of makeup brushes on a silver tray. “Close your eyes,” she tells Mina, and smears something over her eyelids.
“Tell me about your brother,” I say.
Mina’s eyes fly open, and April tsks. Mina closes them again immediately. The silence stretches so long that I think she isn’t going to say anything, that she’s still mad at me, but finally she answers.
“He had a crooked smile,” she says. “He kept me out of the orphanage. Made sure that I was always cared for.”
“My brother liked to play pranks,” I say. “I hated it every time he put a spider in my bed or jumped out from behind something. But I miss his laugh.”
“At least he had a sense of humor,” April says. “Elliott was always too serious for pranks. Too intense.” She arches an eyebrow at me.
“Elliott’s eyes scare me,” Mina says. “I think he sees everything. That he can see through people. But Will’s eyes are dreamy.”
“Will’s eyes are dreamy,” April agrees, giving me another knowing look.
April reaches over to examine the color of my drying hair. Her fingers, as she brushes my forehead, feel warmer than they should. I raise my hand to her cheek. She’s still feverish.
“Close your eyes, Araby,” April says. “We didn’t get all this glittery stuff for nothing.” And then the brush is moving over my eyelids, feather soft, and I’m transported for a moment to the simplicity of getting ready for our evenings at the Debauchery Club. “Perfect.” April turns me toward the mirror.
Mina claps her hands. “Oh, I love it.” I glance over to see if she is sincere or if she is mocking me. Her eyes are shining. She claps once more, as if to emphasize how much she loves it.
I stare at myself. April has done it again. Last time she dyed my hair violet. This time, she’s colored half of it a dark midnight blue that shimmers in the candlelight. I look like someone new. Not the scientist’s daughter. Not Finn’s twin sister. Just Araby.
“Thank you,” I say.
April smiles.
Footsteps in the hallway distract me. Has Elliott returned? April doesn’t seem at all surprised when I excuse myself, hurrying to Elliott’s rooms. But he isn’t there.
Back in my chamber across the hall, I find quill and ink and carefully pen a message to Malcontent. I tell him that I will trade myself for April’s life and where to find me. Even if that man was wrong and somehow Father is still alive, I don’t have time to waste searching for him. April doesn’t have time.
Pushing the letter deep into a pocket, I open the door to my chamber, prepared to go down to the cellar, to try to find a passage that connects to the ones Malcontent is using. But Will is coming down the hallway, pulling Henry along with him, and I can tell immediately that something is wrong. Anger and distress radiate from him. His hair is wild, and his brow is furrowed.
He shoves Henry at me.
“Elise is gone. She went outside for a moment and Malcontent’s men snatched her.”
I fall back against the paneled wall. “Oh, no,” I breathe. “How do you know it was Malcontent?”
“Henry said they had dark robes. I have to go try to find her, and I can’t take him. I know I have no right to ask, but will you keep him safe?”
Henry’s eyes are huge in his face. I wrap my arms around his too-thin shoulders. “You’re scaring him.”
“He needs to be. In a world where someone grabs . . .” His voice breaks. “I kept her inside for years. I kept her safe. I’ll do anything to get her back.” He turns away.
“Will, wait.” I lift Henry to my hip and block Will’s path. “You don’t know where to go, you don’t know—”
“I know that Malcontent is stealing little girls. I’m going underground. To the place where I took you when he had the children before. The tunnels by the pier. If she isn’t there, I’ll keep looking.”
“Do you need me . . .” I start to ask. “You could take me again . . .”
I hold Henry close and look directly into Will’s eyes. Without breaking our gaze, he grips Henry’s shoulder in a way that must be painful, but the little boy doesn’t complain.
“It’s amazing, how right your boyfriend was. Prophetic, really.”
“He’s not—” I begin, but then I shake my head. “Right about what?”
“The dangers of caring for too many people.” The flash in his eyes makes my heart stop for a moment. And then he releases Henry and walks around me.
Henry and I watch him until he turns a corner, and then listen to his footsteps get farther and farther away. “Let’s go downstairs and find you something to eat,” I finally say to Henry. His face is white and drawn, and he buries it in my shoulder. Before we reach the kitchens, a servant stops us.
“You have a visitor,” he says. “An old servant of your family?”
Our old courier stands in the hallway. I’m so glad to see him alive and well that I would embrace him, if I wasn’t already holding Henry.
He rushes up to me and grabs my arm. His fingers are shaking, and his eyes are sunken in, as if from some terrible pain or worry. “Miss Araby! Thank God I found you. Prospero’s men took my daughter.”
“Prospero’s men?”
“Yes. They say they are rescuing them, but the people in the lower city know better.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t Malcontent?”
“It’s Prospero,” he insists. “You must have heard of his orphanages, where he trains his servants and his . . . entertainers. He’s planning some last entertainment for his great masked ball.”
I look at Henry. I swore to protect him, but Will is after the wrong man. Elise and who knows how many other girls are in danger.
“Do you know where this orphanage is?”
“No. People whisper about it, but . . .”
“Come upstairs.” I set Henry down and lead him and the courier back to April’s room.
April is in bed, propped on pillows. The tray of food still sits ignored on her vanity table. I push Henry toward the food and gesture for the courier to help himself, too; he’s grown gaunt in the weeks since I’ve seen him.
“I was planning to eat that,” April says as Henry discovers a pudding and spoons it into his mouth with such intense concentration that I think his eyes have crossed.
“I’ll ask the servants to send more,” I say. “Where’s Mina?” Even as I ask, the girl pops her head in from April’s dressing room. I wave her into the room. “The orphanages. You said your brother protected you from them. Can you tell me where they are?”
“The building is near the last place we lived. It’s one reason my brother wanted to get me out of the city, why we ran away. . . .”
I take out my book of maps and lay it on the table, gesturing for her to show me where to look. After a moment her forehead wrinkles. She doesn’t understand the maps.
“I could take you there,” she says finally, “but these . . . I’m sorry.”
“We have to find Elise,” I say. “And this man’s daughter. If you can’t read the maps, will you lead us?”
Mina nods, though her eyes are larger than usual. Terrified. My estimation of her goes way up.
“I’m going with you,” April says, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Where are my shoes?”
“You can’t,” I say. “You need to rest. And I need you to watch Henry.”
“I’ve been resting all day,” she counters.
“I’m not leading you into danger. And I’m not taking Henry either. If anything happens to him, Will will never forgive me.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to stay here. Order some more pudding for me, will you?” And with that, April sweeps out of the room.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HENRY AND I STAND IN APRIL’S DOORWAY FOR A moment. I can’t think how to force April to stay, other than locking her in her room. Which never really works in the Debauchery Club, at least not in my experience.
“Wait!” I call, running to my room for the small gun that Elliott gave me. I catch up to them at a closet where April is handing out cloaks. Unlike those that Malcontent’s men wear, these are made of velvet and lined with satin. But they are heavy enough to hide our shapes a bit. Someone will have to approach us to tell that we are three girls alone with one man and a child.
I have no idea how we will save Elise and the other kidnapped girls. My mind races, trying to form some sort of plan.
We exit through a side door and down an alley. I hold Henry tight, and as we reach the street, he moves closer to me. Like Elise, he was never allowed to go outside. I squeeze his shoulder.
The streets are busy today. Groups, families—or what’s left of them—with luggage, some moving toward Elliott’s safe zone, and others in finery, hoping to beg or bribe their way into Prospero’s ball. Twice we hear crying. Discreet sniffling through an open window, and then wailing from a courtyard. I doubt Elise and the courier’s daughter are the only girls who have been stolen away.
As we turn the corner, my attention is caught by a man looming over a woman holding a grubby child. Her suitcase is open, spilling into the dirt of the street. I keep my eye on them, even as our small group crosses the street, hurrying toward our destination. The man empties the suitcase, and then knocks the child from the woman’s arms.
“Henry, hold Miss April’s hand,” I say under my breath.
People walk past, ignoring the scene, but I can’t tear my eyes away. I have to do something.
The man pulls himself up to his full height and reaches back for a weapon that’s strapped to his back. He’s discovered this woman doesn’t have anything worth stealing, but he hasn’t moved on.
I stride across the street even as the woman throws herself over the boy.
I hold my gun in front of my body. I don’t even remember pulling it from my pocket.
My gun only has two shots, so I must be careful.
He’s holding a wooden club. It’s an ugly weapon, rusty nails protruding through the wood.