Shadowshaper (19 page)

It made some kind of creepy sense. Why had Nydia been so helpful anyway? Sierra was just some kid from around the way; why was a Columbia librarian wasting so much time to dig up papers on some vanished anthropologist for her? She’d even asked for updates when Sierra had met her at the library. Nydia must’ve met Wick at Columbia, or maybe gone there to seek him out.

And Sierra had been happily feeding her info on how everything was moving along. She cringed. She’d been so thrilled to find someone that looked like her on the otherwise unfriendly campus that she had played right into their hands. Nydia probably had Robbie at the library with her — she could easily hide him amidst those labyrinthine stacks.
Well, I’ll straighten it all out one way or the other
, Sierra thought, rolling down the window and letting the cool night air swoosh against her face.

“Smoke bothering you?” Neville asked.

“Nah, just wanted some fresh air. Just … thinking.”

“You know, if you wanna talk about it, I’m actually pretty good at keeping a secret.”

“I wish I could tell you, Uncle Neville. I really do.” She shook her head. Once someone you trusted turned out to be spying on you, it called
everyone
into question. “You ever been betrayed?”

Neville laughed. “Oh, plenty a times. And it never stops sucking.”

“What do you do?”

“Officially?” He swung hard into the right lane to get around a slow-sauntering Jeep. “It ain’t Sunday morning and we ain’t in the country, fool!” He laughed and tugged on his smoke. “I mean, depends on a few things, but generally I cut the offending party out of my life and keep it movin’. Once all the damage has been repaired, that is.” He screeched the car back into the fast lane and revved it forward.

“Yeah,” Sierra said. “It’s the damage control part I gotta figure out.”

Neville grunted in commiseration.

“Can you drive any faster?”

“Well, damn, Sierra, thought you’d never ask.”

The night guard, an ancient Irish cat with a wooden cane, was staring intently at one of those seven-day medicine holders. Sierra flashed the student ID Nydia had given her and the old guy barely glanced at it. “Workin’ late?” he mumbled without looking up from his medicines.

“Something like that. Anybody here?”

“One or two lonely souls,” the guard said. Sierra headed in. “And that lady who’s always in the basement, of course.”

“Nydia?”

“Uh-huh, that’s the one. Little Spanish señorita like yourself.”

“Anyone with her? Maybe a tall kid with locks?”

The old man squinted at Sierra. His left eye was foggy with cataracts. “You’re mighty inquisitive, my dear.”

“Forget it,” Sierra said, hurrying along.

She had no plan. It was a stupid time to be thinking such things, rushing as she was down the endless flights of stairs toward a potentially ghost-wielding sorceress. But still, the thought remained: She had no plan. She had simply landed on an answer and run headlong into whatever mess awaited her. She’d have to do better in the future, if she survived. If Robbie was down there somewhere, surely, and if she could find him before Nydia found her, maybe they’d have a chance. Maybe. Then again, maybe Nydia wasn’t even helping Wick.

Sierra reached the thick metal door that led to the archival basement and turned the handle ever so gently. The room was dark except for a dim light coming from somewhere deep in the stacks. She checked her pockets and scrunched up her face. She’d have to get in the habit of carrying around stuff to draw with if she was going to be any kind of shadowshaper. A fire extinguisher gathered dust in a little alcove right next to the door. Sierra unhinged it and heaved it onto her shoulder bazooka-style. It was ridiculous, but it felt good to at least have something heavy in her hands if things got hairy.

This is stupid
, Sierra thought, making her way as quietly as possible down a corridor between two bookshelves. But all she could envision was Robbie being tortured to death at the hands of a throng haint. She shuddered and crept forward, trying to force the thought away.

Nydia stood at a table between two stacks. The Wick file was splayed out messily in front of her, and she hunched over it, her back to Sierra, flipping through pages and mumbling to herself. Sierra held her breath and slid silently into striking distance. She wrapped both hands around the neck of the fire extinguisher, bracing her body to swing. One hit and it would be over. Well, over for Nydia anyway. Sierra still wouldn’t know where Robbie was, and Wick would still be out there somewhere. She paused.

Nydia spun around, her eyes wide. “Sierra!”

“I … I know everything …”

“What?”

Sierra held tight to the extinguisher, suddenly out of breath. “I know … what’s going on.”

Nydia raised an eyebrow. “Could you explain it to me, then?”

“Don’t try and be coy with me, Nydia! I know you’re a shadowshaper —”

“Me? I wish!”

Sierra shook her head. “No, stop! Stop talking. I know you’ve been helping Wick, spying for him —”

“Now, hold up.” Nydia stepped toward her.

“Stop! Don’t come any closer! Where’s Robbie? Where are you and Wick keeping him?”

Nydia’s eyes got wide. “What are you talking about? You think that I’m helping Wick? Sierra, no …”

“Of course you are. It all makes sense. You’ve been keeping track of my every move, letting him know where I’ll be next.”

“Sierra, listen.” Nydia’s voice was firm; her dark eyes didn’t waver from Sierra’s. “I haven’t been tracking you. I’ve been tracking Wick.”

Sierra lowered the fire extinguisher and then raised it again. Her head was spinning. “Stop lying.”

“It’s true.” Nydia took another step closer.

“Stay back. I’ll smash your head in.” She wanted to break down and sob. Everything was happening way too fast. “You know about the Sorrows. You were surprised when I asked you about them, like … like I was onto you.”

“Sierra, I study the spirit world, yes, but more than that, I study other anthropologists who study the spirit world. That’s part of my research: how researchers get involved and change spirit-worker communities, both for better and worse.”

Sierra put down the extinguisher. “You’re like, what, an anthropologist super spy?”

Nydia smiled. “You could say that. I been watching Wick’s moves for a while now. He really does mean well. Or, he did … but I didn’t trust him. And when he fell off the map, I started looking deeper. That’s when I found out about the Sorrows. Been researching them for the past couple months. It’s …” She shook her head. “It’s dire stuff.”

“But …”

“Sierra, I want to help you. Trust me.”

“You know how to find them, don’t you?” Sierra said slowly. “The Sorrows. You said they were in some church uptown.”

Nydia’s eyes went wide. “Yes, but …”

“Take me.”

“To the Sorrows? No, Sierra, that’s not a good idea. They’re horrible and immensely powerful and … they’ll kill you. Kill us both.”

“How else are we going to find Wick? Do you know where he is?”

Nydia frowned. “No, but —”

“Wick has my … He has someone I care about. He’s after my whole family. He’s …” Sierra fought back a lump in her throat. “He killed my friend Manny and made my granddad incoherent. He’s almost wiped out the shadowshapers. I have to find him. Tonight. The Sorrows gave him his power, but I’m pretty sure they aren’t getting along so well anymore. If I can just —”

“Sierra, you can’t reason with creatures as ancient and powerful as the Sorrows. You can’t …”

“You said you wanted to help me. That you weren’t working for Wick. If you mean it, Nydia, then this is what I need. If not, fine. I’ll find the church on my own.” She turned and headed through the stacks.

“Wait,” Nydia said.

Sierra stopped.

“You’re a shadowshaper, aren’t you?”

She nodded. She was more than that, but the title of Lucera didn’t feel real to Sierra yet; it was still some strange inheritance she couldn’t fully grasp.

“You know shadowshaping won’t work on the Sorrows? Your spirits won’t even go near them probably, especially when they’re on their home turf. All their power is centered in that shrine behind the church.”

“Does this mean you’ll help me?”

“It means I want you to know what you’re getting into. You’re still gonna go after them, even though your powers will be useless?”

“I don’t have a choice, Nydia. The Sorrows will know where Wick is, how to find him — and Robbie. I’ve already seen people I love turned into horrible monsters. I’m not losing Robbie too.”

Nydia raised an eyebrow again. “You’ve seen the Sorrows already, haven’t you?”

Sierra smiled. “I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

They walked quickly through the corridors of books. “The church is at the top of Manhattan,” Nydia said. “You know anyone that has a car and can drive fast?”

Sierra grinned. “Do I ever.”

Neville’s Cadillac Seville screeched to a halt outside an old iron fence on a deserted street.

Nydia exhaled loudly in the backseat. “Jesus.”

Sierra caught her eye in the rearview. “You alright?”

“I will be.” She patted Uncle Neville’s shoulder with a shaking hand. “It’s really nice to meet you, sir. You drive like a wild maniac, and I respect that.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Neville said.

They were at the highest point of Manhattan, not far from the river, in a little corner tucked away behind the West Side Highway. Beyond the fence, a dirt trail led into the darkness. A heavy chain hugged the two elaborately crafted sides of the gate together.

“How we gonna get through that chain?” Sierra said.

Neville smirked. “Oh, I’ll handle that.”

“What if a guard comes?”

“Then I’ll handle that too.”

“Sierra,” Nydia said. “I like your godfather. Let’s do this.”

Neville retrieved an ax with a long wooden handle from the trunk, and Nydia and Sierra watched as he demolished the chain with five swift chops. The gate swung open with a high-pitched whine. “Ladies,” Neville said, bowing slightly. “I would join you in there, but I have a feeling I’ll be more use keeping things on the level out here. I’m no good with the kind of baddies y’all prolly abouta deal with.”

“You … know?” Sierra stammered.

Neville winked. “Don’t forget that your grandpa and I were good friends back in the day.”

“You’re not a shadowshaper, are you?”

“Nah. I had his back through some bad situations, though. I seen enough to know what’s what when there’s some woo-woo mess goin’ down. I’ll stick to the human side of being a badass, thank you very much.”

“Wow,” Sierra said.

“Oh, and here.” He handed her the ax. “Take this.”

“Uncle Neville, I really don’t think …”

“I know, but take it anyway. You don’t know what you gonna find in there, and
I’ll
feel better if you’re armed.”

“Won’t you —?”

“Don’t you worry about Uncle Neville.” He dapped Sierra, blew a kiss at Nydia, and then posted up by the gate.

Sierra looked at Nydia. “You ready?”

“Is your godfather married?”

“Nydia! Focus! We doin’ this or what?”

“Yes! I’m here.”

Sierra heaved the ax onto her shoulder and they started up the path into the shadows. “What’s your plan?” Nydia asked.

“Plan?”

“Sierra. You asked me to help you reach out to some of the most corrupt, powerful phantoms in the known universe. I brought you here, to their nasty lair, because I like you and I want you to nail Wick for what he’s done to your family. You do have a plan, don’t you?”

“Just show me where they are,” Sierra said. “I’ll do the rest.” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

Nydia shook her head. “Come on.”

Up ahead, a building towered over them. Steeples stretched up to the moonlit night, and Sierra could make out the gnarly silhouettes of gargoyles jutting out to either side.

“The place was a convent way back when,” Nydia said. “Then it was a mental hospital for a hot second in the seventies, then a crack house. Now it’s abandoned. City doesn’t know what to do with the property, I guess.”

“Charming.”

“Everything in my research points to this spot as the Sorrows’ nesting ground and center of power.”

They reached the top of the hill. Graffiti covered the elaborate wooden doorway of the old cathedral. The statues on either side had their faces scratched off and hands removed. A mountain of trash lay scattered along the steps.

“C’mon,” Nydia said. “I think the churchyard is around back.”

They followed a smaller dirt path around the side of the chapel, past the charred remains of a motorcycle.

“How do you even research something like that?” Sierra asked. “Where an ancient gang of spirits hangs out, I mean.”

“A lot of it’s oral histories, the ones most scholars ignore. Tying together urban lore, gossip around the way, and historical documents. A rumor about hauntings here, a scrap of info about some ancient cursed family there. That kinda thing.”

“Sounds kinda awe —”

Sierra stopped in her tracks. Up ahead, the path led to a foot-high stone wall. Beyond it, drooping willow trees presided like mourning gods over a tiny churchyard. Golden light poured out of a circle of pine trees at the far end. “Whoa,” she said.

Nydia blinked. “I didn’t think … I … wow.”

The golden haze illuminated the edges of the willows and a decapitated angel statue. It sent long, trembling shadows reaching toward Sierra and Nydia. A few moments passed.

“You ready?” Nydia whispered.

Sierra nodded.

“Let’s do this, then.”

“No,” Sierra said. “I gotta … I gotta handle this on my own.”

“Sierra …”

“I know. I know you think I’m crazy, I know it’s suicide. I get it. But you gotta let me do this my way, Nydia. You brought me this far, and I appreciate it, believe me I do. But I don’t even know you that well. I can’t go getting you killed too.”

Nydia shook her head. “I don’t like it, Sierra. I know they always say that kinda crap in movies and it all works out okay, but this isn’t that. You can’t do this alone.”

“I know,” Sierra said. “And I’m not alone.” She hugged Nydia, turned, and walked down the dirt path toward the cemetery.

The shadows rose up on either side of her. They pulsed with the same gentle light she’d seen in Coney Island as they glided with long, magnificent strides. She knew they wouldn’t be with her all the way, but just their presence on the short walk to the churchyard made Sierra feel like she was protected.

Sierra walked through a rickety gate and into the churchyard. The shadows hesitated, then breached the low stone wall as one.

The trio of towering shrouds emerged from the pines. Sierra felt the heat of their golden glare on her face. In the grove behind them, three marble statues of women stood beneath the shadowy pines, their hands raised and touching, their legs extended as if frozen in mid-dance to some long-lost music.

The shadows fell into a line on either side of Sierra. She took a breath, banished the tremble from her voice, and spoke: “I am Sierra Santiago, shadowshaper.”

For a few seconds, all she heard was the warm night wind shushing through the willows. Then the three Sorrows swept forward around her. The shadows tensed but Sierra waved them back. The Sorrows spun in a slow circle, faces concealed beneath their drooping hoods, their glowing robes swaying slightly in the breeze.

She is the child from the brotherhood of shadows, ay?
The whisper cut through her mind. It was sharp and gravelly.

Ay, but is she ready?
said another.

Pssshhh
, hissed the third,
this is no child, sistren, this is Lucera. She has transformed.

At last!

Ay, but is she ready?

She will be soon.

“Enough!” Sierra yelled. “I’ve come for information, not to be glared at and spoken about like I’m not even here. Tell me where Jonathan Wick is.”

The Sorrows stopped spinning and the three voices spoke as one:
He has been watching all along.

Sierra rolled her eyes. “What does that mean?”

He has been watching all along.

“I don’t have time for these riddles, y’all. Just tell me where he is, how I can destroy him.”

Wick cannot be brought down. He is too powerful now.

“No!” Sierra said. “I don’t believe you.”

We are no longer concerned with Wick. He has failed us.

“Meanwhile, he’ll destroy everything I love.”

No concern of ours.

Sierra stomped her foot. “You made him what he is! You bear the responsibility.”

It is you we are concerned with now.

“What? Why?”

One of the Sorrows stepped forward.
Our destinies are entwined, Lucera. Our futures and pasts. We will soon be one, as we have always been, and on that day, the Sisterhood of Sorrows will attain its ultimate power. It has been prophesied, child. We strengthened Wick so that he could infiltrate your shadow fellowship and take on the role of the Lucera.

Or Lucero, in his case
, one of the other Sorrows added.

He seemed worthy of such a task. But to complete it, he had to track down the current holder of that position, which he failed to do, as you know. We gave him a year. The year has run out. Instead of finding Lucera, Wick became drunk with the power of binding magic. His ego was so wounded when the shadowshapers didn’t embrace him as their leader, his vision became clouded. He began destroying them in the quest to save their legacy. And still he failed.

Another Sorrow swept forward, this one closer. Sierra took a step back.

You, on the other hand, found Lucera, and we see she has passed on her power to you, child. You are Lucera now, Lucera is you. And Lucera and the Sorrows are destined to become one. Your grandmother was of an archaic generation, not so open-minded as you are, Sierra Santiago.

“It’ll never happen,” Sierra said.

We simply ask that you lis —

“No,” Sierra said. “I’ll never be one of you. If you won’t help me, back off and I’ll …”

The first shroud that had spoken lurched toward her. Sierra leapt back.
Who is this fool who thinks she can address the Sisterhood of Sorrows with such audacity?
The Sorrow’s shrill voice cut like a rusty knife.

Back, Septima!
another voice howled.
Do not touch her. The child is stained.

“Stained? What are you — is that why you send others to do your dirty work for you? You won’t touch us normal people?”

You are impure
, the three voices whispered together.
Just like your grandmother. We thought if you were willing to hear us out, to purify yourself, you could one day be amongst us.

Sierra shook her head. “Never.”

And in exchange, we would give you the information you desire.

“You send this madman to destroy my family, my friends, and then you demand I join your stupid club or you won’t tell me where Wick is?”

The Sorrows stood perfectly still, staring at her.

“Go to hell,” Sierra said. “I’ll find Wick myself.” She turned and stomped out of the churchyard, shadows swarming in her wake.

“What happened?” Nydia asked.

“They said he’s been watching all along,” Sierra said. “That’s all they’d tell me.”

“So he’s got a camera on you? He’s got a spy, what?”

Sierra shook her head. “I don’t know. But I’m done with this crap. Give me the ax.”

“What? Sierra, you can’t …”

Sierra took the ax from Nydia and marched back down the path into the churchyard. The shadows swooped along with her and fell into formation at the gate.

You have returned, Little Lucera!
the Sorrows said.

Sierra stormed directly into their midst, watching with satisfaction as they swerved out of her way.

Where are you going, Little Lucera?

She made a beeline for the pine grove.

Little Lucera!
the Sorrows howled.
Do not go in there!

“No more riddles!” Sierra shouted. She swung the ax in a wide arc and smashed it against the first dancing-woman statue. It clanged against the marble with a satisfying crack, carving a chunk out of the figure’s swirling robe.

Lucera!
The Sorrows billowed around her.
Stop this!

She’s mad!

Do not corrupt the Queen Phantoms with your filth!

“Where is Wick?” She swung again, taking a sizable chunk of the next statue’s hand.

Stop this!

“No” — Sierra raised the ax over her head — “more” — she brought it down directly on the third statue’s foot, shattering it — “riddles!”

The Tower!
the Sorrows yelled as one.
The Tower above the lot of trash that your friends recline within. The greedy professor makes his domain in the Tower.

Sierra lowered the ax. He really had been watching all along. Biding his time. Listening. She shuddered.

There he has brought the young shadowshaper, there he will raise his army of throng haints. For he is a man of observation, but his own creations fail to take. What’s more, the use of corpses has proven problematic for him, as you have seen. The decaying human form cannot sustain the power of spirit for long. You are so fragile, children of blood and bone. The boy shadowshaper will provide the forms for the throng haint army with his painting.