Inside the Shadow City (9 page)

“He's not?” I asked.

“Well, he couldn't risk anyone finding the tunnel, so he was secretly buried elsewhere.”

“Where?”

“In my front yard,” said Kiki nonchalantly.

For a moment I was speechless. And although I knew I shouldn't judge people by their relatives, I wondered if Kiki Strike was up to no good. I was beginning to understand how the other girls might play a part in Kiki's plans, but I had no idea why she would need someone like me. If I had any unusual talents, I had yet to discover them.

“Why me?” I asked. “I can't hack computers or make surveillance equipment. What good am I to you?”

Kiki shook her head as if I had missed the point. “Other than me, you're the only person alive who's seen the Shadow City. That morning you watched me climb out of the hole in front of your house, I had a hunch you'd find the trapdoor. I left you my copy of
Glimpses of Gotham
just to make it a little easier. But believe it or not, Ananka, there aren't too many people who'd jump into a hole just to see what's down there. You even followed me
into Central Park in the middle of a blizzard. Your tailing skills stink, but you've got guts.

“Besides, you're far more important to this operation than you think. We'll have to do a lot of research before we explore the Shadow City, and I'd rather not have some nosy librarian breathing down my neck. Your library has all the books we could possibly need.”

“How do you know about my library?” I asked.

“I didn't know it was a secret,” said Kiki vaguely.

“But why didn't you just tell me what was going on? Why did you have to drag me to half the Girl Scout meetings in Manhattan?”

“You spent two months following me around, so I figured you're the sort of person who likes to see things for herself. That's why I let you see me at the Marble Cemetery. And I took you to meet the other girls so you'd know exactly what I was up to.”

It was neither the first nor the last time I would be surprised by how well she knew me.

“Okay,” I sighed. “When do we get started?”

Kiki reached into her bag and pulled out one of the mysterious golden envelopes.

“This one is for you.”

I opened the envelope and pulled out a printed card.

Outgrown the Girl Scouts?
it read in large letters.
Join the Irregulars, and begin the greatest adventure of your youth. First meeting to be held at 17:00 on the second Saturday in April at 133
½
Bank Street. Absolute secrecy required. No disguises, recording equipment, or toxic substances allowed inside.

“The Irregulars?” I asked, slightly confused.

“It's the name of our new troop.” She paused as if waiting for a laugh. “Well,
I
thought it was funny,” she added when it became clear that I didn't get the joke.

“What do we do if one of the girls doesn't want to join?”

Kiki stopped smiling. “We'll have to kill her, won't we?”

I stared at her in horror until she broke into a grin.

“Come on, that's hilarious,” she insisted.

• • •

The Atalanta School for Girls had seen the last of Kiki Strike. Until the second Saturday in April, I was on my own again. Now that Kiki's plans for the Shadow City were under way, she had better things to do, she informed me, than memorize state capitals. I wished I could follow her lead, but I knew my mother and father would never let me blow off the seventh grade. They didn't care what clothes I wore or what I ate for dinner, but missing school was not an option. I was jealous that Kiki's parents seemed to have their priorities in order. While Kiki Strike was preparing for a great adventure, I would have to finish the school year, and that meant dealing with the Princess by myself.

When I arrived at school the following Monday, I found The Five hovering around my locker. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that my stomach remained calm and my heartbeat slow and steady. Even without Kiki around to rescue me, I wasn't afraid. Somehow, the Princess had lost her power over me.

“Step back!” Sidonia snapped at her posse as I approached. The large pink diamond on her right hand
glittered under the fluorescent lights. “Give me some space, you morons.”

I walked past her to my locker and started to dial the combination.

“I know you didn't steal my ring,” said the Princess coldly. I braced for an apology that wasn't going to come. “Naomi saw the girl who passed the note. Is she a friend of yours? What's her name?”

“When did you start taking an interest in seventh graders, Sidonia?” I asked. “Are you having trouble making friends your own age?”

The Princess gritted her teeth and took a deep breath.

“Naomi said the girl didn't look well. A bit on the pale side and awfully small for her age. I hope she's eating well. I would hate for my hero to fall ill.”

Whatever Sidonia was after, it couldn't be good. I turned around to look her in the eye.

“You've got your ring back, so why don't you go harass some fourth graders and leave me alone.”

The Princess frowned, and for a moment I thought she might slap me. Instead, she bared her teeth in what passed for a smile.

“By the way, where is your friend today? I'd love to thank her in person. Do you think you could arrange a meeting?”

I still didn't buy it. The Princess never thanked anyone for anything. Common courtesy was too common for her. I glanced over at Naomi, who looked as though she'd aged ten years over the weekend. Somehow, she must have convinced the Princess she was innocent.

“I'm not her social secretary,” I answered. “If you want to meet my friend so badly, you'll have to find her yourself.”

The Princess's cheeks colored with rage. “If you insist, squid girl,” she hissed.

“Squid girl?” I laughed. “If that's the best you can come up with, it's a good thing you're rich. You'd suck as a scholarship student.”

I spent the rest of the day wishing Kiki Strike had been there to see the Princess stomp off in a huff.

• • •

The following weekend, I set out for the first meeting of the Irregulars at 133½ Bank Street in Greenwich Village. When I reached what I thought was the right block, I walked up and down the street, searching for the building. After several trips, I came to the conclusion that while there was a 133 and a 134, there was certainly no 133 ½ Bank Street. I sat down on a stoop to review my options, and was soon joined by DeeDee Morlock. Her dreadlocks had been trimmed to a uniform length, and she was wearing a violet dress sprinkled with acid burns. I watched as she walked up and down the street, occasionally pausing to reread her invitation. Eventually she stopped in front of me, her confusion written on her face.

“Excuse me. Do you know where I can find 133½ Bank Street?” she asked. I didn't blame her for failing to recognize me from the Girl Scout meeting. I knew I wasn't particularly memorable.

“I wish I did. I'm looking for it, too,” I said.

“Oh, hi. I'm DeeDee,” she smiled, offering a hand,
which I noticed was stained an unusual shade of green. “Are you a member of … ” She remembered the secret nature of the gathering and caught herself before giving too much away.

“Ananka,” I said, shaking her hand. “And yes. I mean I guess we'll both be members. That's if we can find the right address.”

“Yeah, it's weird, isn't it? It's like the building just disappeared.”

A thought flashed through my mind.

“It's a hidden house,” I said.

“What's a hidden house?” DeeDee asked, eyeing me carefully.

“They're all over Greenwich Village,” I explained. “But hardly anybody knows they're here. You can't see them from the street. They're hidden behind other buildings. They used to be stables or servants' quarters—things like that.”

“Do you think that could be the entrance?” asked DeeDee, pointing to a wooden gate on the side of the building where I sat. It was roughly the same height and width as a large horse.

“It must be,” I said, rising to my feet.

We stood nervously in front of the gate. DeeDee reached for a bronze door knocker in the shape of a severed hand.

“Hey, you!” shouted someone from across the street, and we both jumped. It was Oona Wong, dressed in a black, ninja-inspired jumpsuit. “Is that the way in?”

Immediately after we had knocked at the gate, it opened to reveal a tiny woman with unnaturally red hair,
wearing a shirtdress that flattered her thin but muscular build. She looked both ways down the street before quickly pulling us inside.

“You are very punctual,” she said in a thick Russian accent. “This is a good sign.”

“Verushka?” I sputtered. Though the hair and clothing were different, the voice was unmistakable. She smiled at me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, my dear.”

“Are you Kiki's mother?” asked DeeDee.

“No,” said Verushka sadly. “Her parents have been dead for many years. I am only the housekeeper. Come, I will take you inside. Then I must return for the other girls. I think they will not find the house.”

“I've never seen a housekeeper with muscles like hers,” whispered Oona as Verushka turned to lead us through a brick passageway.

“Neither have I,” I agreed.

We left the passageway and entered an enchanted world. A wall of ivy, shooting its tendrils in every direction, encircled a patch of meadow. Golden daffodils rose from the ground in random bunches. A breeze pushed its way through the high, unmanicured grass and shook the wild rosebuses that grew among the ivy, stirring a storm of pink petals. In the center of the garden, hidden beneath the limbs of an enormous weeping willow, was an ancient wooden cottage with shuttered windows and two toylike chimneys. It was a house fit for Little Red Riding Hood or Snow White. The only proof that we hadn't been transported to another time and place was the quick, angry blare of a car horn from beyond the walls.

“This is amazing,” said DeeDee, spinning around to take it all in.

“It is safe,” said Verushka cryptically as she led us up a stone path and left us at the front door of the cottage. I scanned the yard in vain for any signs of August Quack-enbush's grave, and then stepped into a living room that was stark and modern.

“This is more my style,” said Oona appreciatively, stroking a wooden chair that looked more like a prop from a science fiction movie than a piece of furniture. Television monitors covered one entire wall of the small living room, each screen showing a different view of the house's surroundings. On one, I watched Verushka guiding two more girls through the brick passageway. On another, I saw Kiki exiting a room in another part of the house, a rolled-up map tucked under her arm.

Seconds later, Verushka arrived at the front door with Luz Lopez and a girl I assumed was Betty Bent in tow. This time Betty was a pretty olive-skinned girl with glossy black hair cut into a bob. Kiki stopped her at the door.

“Is this a disguise?” she demanded.

“No,” said Betty shyly. “I followed the instructions. But I'm feeling kind of naked.”

“You can put your sunglasses on if it will help,” said Kiki.

“Thanks,” murmured a grateful Betty, quickly hiding her eyes behind the largest sunglasses I'd ever seen.

Kiki turned to the rest of us.

“Welcome, ladies,” she said. “Would you like to take a seat?”

We sat side by side on the two large sofas in the small
living room. Kiki unrolled the map and taped it to the fireplace mantel. It was a street map of downtown Manhattan. Next to it, she placed a hand-drawn diagram of the Shadow City. The other girls looked at one another in confusion.

“I'll make the introductions,” Kiki announced. “Luz Lopez is one of the finest mechanical engineers in New York. Although her mother doesn't know it, she is secretly designing a small robot that can be programmed to do most of her household chores. DeeDee Morlock is a chemist. In a few short minutes, she can concoct the deadliest poisons and craft the most powerful explosives. We should all be thankful that she's chosen to use her powers for good instead of evil. As for Betty Bent, this is the first time in over four years that anyone has seen her without a disguise. Oona Wong is a master forger and computer hacker. She's been breaking the law since the age of five. And this,” she said, turning to me, “is Ananka Fishbein. She will be our urban archaeologist. Not only does she know more about this city than most history professors, she has access to one of the most
useful
libraries in the country.”

“Who are you?” asked Luz in a businesslike fashion.

“My name is Kiki Strike.”

Betty Bent raised her hand. “What do you do?” she asked timidly.

“Anything I want,” said Kiki Strike. “Now allow me to tell you why I've invited you here today. As you've seen, each of you has an unusual gift—a gift that has gone unappreciated by your parents, your teachers, and even the Girl Scouts. You could choose to spend your youth
winning grade-school science fairs or, in Oona's case, trying to avoid juvenile hall. Or you could choose to do something truly spectacular. I think it's time to put your skills to real use. If you join the Irregulars, you will embark on one of the greatest adventures of all time.”

“Will it be dangerous?” asked DeeDee.

“That's an interesting question coming from a girl who nearly blew up her own house,” Kiki responded.

“Good point,” noted DeeDee thoughtfully.

“Come on, let's hear it, then,” said Oona.

“Okay,” said Kiki, “but what I'm about to tell you can never leave this room. If one of you decides to confide in your friends or parents, you'll have the rest of us to deal with. And I'm pretty sure you don't want to be on Oona's bad side.”