Sorcerer's Secret (36 page)

They cautiously creeped into the ballroom, peering around in disbelief. Every step seemed to echo as they ventured farther into the opulent room. Richly upholstered chairs surrounded them, dusty and ancient, but Rory had no desire to sit down. Whatever this place was, he didn't want to be delayed in it while his time ticked away into nothing.

They reached a flight of stairs, which led down to a landing. The landing led to a large circular opening cut into the wall, flanked by two bronze statues Rory recognized as Mercury, messenger of the Roman gods (the winged hat gave it away). Etched into the stone above the opening were the words PNEUMATIC (1870) TRANSIT.

“So you're back, you miscreants!” a voice yelled at them, making them jump. “You'll find it hard to do your thieving with a bullet in your chest!”

Rory spun around to see a figure holding a long silver gun at them. He immediately put up his hands.

“We don't want any trouble,” he told the figure.

“I'll have you know I'm a powerful magician,” Hex said, his voice low and dangerous. “You don't want to mess with my powers!”

“You don't want to mess with my bullets!” the figure answered. “You did enough when you stole my train!”

“We didn't steal anything!” Bridget cried. “We just got here!”

“What kind of fool do you think I am?” The figure stepped closer and the light fell on his face. Rory's jaw dropped as he recognized who it was.

“Mr. Beach!” he said. The man holding a gun on them was none other than Alfred Beach, God of Subways, who had picked up Rory when he was lost in the subway tunnels after the earthquake. “It's me, Rory Hennessy!”

Alfred squinted, peering closely at Rory. “Why, so it is! Why did you steal my train?”

“We didn't steal anything, I promise,” Rory answered. “We just stumbled across your place, here, completely by accident.”

“Then who's been stealing my train?” Alfred asked, looking peeved as he lowered his gun. “I'd really thought I'd caught the culprit. Oh well, I'm glad it wasn't you. You seemed like a nice enough fellow.”

Rory introduced his companions to the tall, thin god with the delicate mustache. Alfred shook all their hands, apologizing for his rude welcome.

“What is this place?” Bridget asked. Alfred smiled at the wonder in her voice.

“This was the very first subway station in New York,” he said, throwing his arms open wide. “I built it back in 1870, in secret, since Boss Tweed wasn't too keen on a subway he didn't control. This was the waiting room, where people could await their train in comfort.”

Rory glanced around the opulent room. “Not bad.”

“That's what I thought. But Tweed shut me down. It'd be thirty years before the city got its subway, and my invention lay hidden here, underground, forgotten.”

“Is your train on the other side?” Hex asked, pointing to the circular opening.

Alfred nodded. “Or at least it had better be,” he said, frowning. “Last week, I stopped by to check on her after I dropped Verrazano off at the surface, and the train was gone! Someone had stolen her! I went ballistic, searching everywhere for it, but by the time I returned to the station, the train was back in its place. Though I could tell someone had used her. A joyride, I guessed. Though who would want to take a joyride in the place where that train goes is beyond me.”

Rory turned to Fritz and mouthed, “Kieft stole it!” Fritz nodded—the same thought had obviously occurred to him.

“What does pneumatic mean?” Bridget asked, reading the sign above the entrance.

“Let me show you,” Alfred replied, smiling at the girl's interest.

He led them down the steps to what proved to be the entrance to a tunnel. A short subway car sat on rails in the middle of the tunnel; it was the same circular shape as the tunnel, its sides barely clearing the walls and ceiling. It was much smaller than a normal subway car, and the light from its headlamps barely pierced the gloomy dark ahead of it.

“Is that a fan?” Fritz asked, looking behind them. Indeed, a huge fan sat across from them, pointed down the tunnel.

“Of course,” Alfred said. “Pneumatic means ‘air' after all. Didn't I tell you, Rory, that I would show you the first subway car I built? Well, here she is! Ain't she a beaut?”

“She is,” Bridget agreed, running up to stare in the windows. “All the seats have cushions!”

‘Of course.” Alfred smiled. “This ride was meant to be a luxury, after all.”

“Where does it go?” Hex added, his eyes glinting in the dim light.

“Well, that's the thing,” Alfred said, shrugging. “It really doesn't go anywhere. This was my first exploration project. I've gone deeper down with this girl than with any of my other cars. I'd probably still be digging if I hadn't reached a dead end. Now I explore with my other subway trains, trying to find other ways down.”

“So whoever stole this train rode it down to a dead end and then drove it back?” Hex asked, clearly believing there was more to the story.

“Well,dead end is a strong term,” Alfred admitted. “I actually hit an underground stream. I tried to follow it, but it went too deep, even for me. I sometimes ride this old girl down there, to sit by its shore and think about where it goes, but I can't bring myself to follow it to its end. Some secrets are meant to be kept, I believe.”

“Can you take us there?” Rory asked Alfred.

“Are you sure you didn't steal this train?” The inventor narrowed his eyes.

“That place you can't bring yourself to go?” Rory asked. “That's where I need to be. Please?”

Alfred gave Rory a piercing look then nodded. “Why don't you climb aboard?” he said. “You're in for a treat.”

“Good work,” Hex mumbled to Rory as they climbed into the train. The car was small but comfortable, with cushioned seats lining each side. Small windows interrupted the curved wall, looking out onto the black tunnel. “So Kieft took the train in order to bring his treasure to the cavern.”

“I'm just glad we won't have to walk with those horrible illusions,” Rory muttered back. Hex laughed and Rory started, realizing he'd been dropping his guard with the traitorous exgod. He'd have to be cautious or Hex would take advantage of him.

They took their seats as Alfred climbed into a chair at the head. “Hold on!” he said brightly. “This is a ride like no other!” He pushed a button and a large door began to close off one end of the tunnel, creating an airtight seal. There was a whirring sound as the fan began to spin, blowing air fiercely at the car. Finally, with a wrench, the car gave way under the onslaught and rolled down the tunnel with increasing speed. The light of the station soon disappeared and they were shooting forward through the dark, propelled faster and faster by the fierce gale behind them.

It was eerie to be traveling without engines; the only sound was of the wind propelling them forward. At first Rory couldn't speak; the roaring in his ears was too great. On and on they rode, until the roaring faded and they were simply rolling along, shooting through the tunnel like a bullet. The end was somewhere up ahead, but Rory had no idea when they'd reach it.

Rory tried looking out the window, and initially he couldn't see a thing. But then they burst out of the narrow tunnel into a huge open space, and the light from the train bounced off the walls to illuminate the whole area. The rails ran through the middle of the cavern, carrying the train over a deep, seemingly bottomless drop. Rory didn't know how Alfred could have built these rails hanging over nothing, and he didn't want to know. He just wanted to get to the other side without tipping over.

They reached the far wall, diving into another tunnel. This time, Rory could see some space on either side. And then he realized why. Something was coming up alongside, a light, and he leaned forward to see more clearly. At last he realized that a train was overtaking them on the tracks that ran alongside.

“There's another train there!” he told Alfred. “I thought no one else traveled this deep underground!”

“Well, that's not exactly true,” Alfred admitted. By now, the train had reached them, and gradually, it began to pass by. The metal-and-glass skin of this more modern train couldn't have been more than two feet away, so Rory peered across the short distance into the windows as they slid by. He heard Bridget gasp and he drew back in shock; Alfred's voice, suddenly dead serious, came from behind.

“Don't worry, kids. It will be gone in a moment. That train is not for you.”

The train roared alongside slowly but inexorably, on its way to who knows where. Inside the weakly lit train, every inch of space overflowed with people. Hundreds of them. They filled each car like commuters at rush hour, thrust into one another, stacked like dead fish. But it was the faces that scared Rory. Those horrible, horrible faces. The cars passed by like a hellish amusement-park ride, allowing Rory a good long look at every nasty expression, every ghoulish head. Human faces, at least at one time, but changed. Sallow, sickly, festering, yellow-eyed, disintegrating, and most of all, dead faces still dripping dirt from the grave.

It seemed to take forever, but finally the last car passed out of sight, returning the tunnel to black, and Rory could breathe again. It never crossed his mind to ask Alfred about the story behind that train, and Bridget never asked, either. He had a sneaking suspicion he already knew the answer. He prayed he'd never have to ride it.

Finally, the car they were in rolled to a stop. The silence was deafening as Rory looked around at his companions.

“I guess we get out,” he said. Alfred shrugged, looking a bit spooked.

“You can if you want. There's nothing there but the river. I don't think I'll go with you, actually. Is that all right?”

Rory nodded. He walked to the door, opening it and climbing down to the tunnel floor. He spied a smaller, much older tunnel entrance lit up by the train's headlights. There was a roaring in the distance that sounded like a river. Bridget dropped to his side, giving an elaborate shudder.

“That was a freaky ride,” she said. “I hope we don't have to go back that way.”

Rory didn't answer. He just hoped they got to go back at all. Hex climbed down beside them and Clarence leaped to the ground at their feet, Fritz upon his back. Rory took a deep breath.

“Let's go take a look,” he said, and walked into the tunnel.

The tunnel itself was very short, and the lights from the train behind them illuminated the entire way. Familiar sigils lined the walls—this must be the end of that long-destroyed passage Adriaen had walked down so many centuries earlier. Thankfully, they soon reached the end and were standing on the shore of the river, watching the water rush by.

“This looks familiar,” Fritz said, and Rory agreed. The arching rocks overhead, the swiftly moving water dimly lit by glowing plants below . . . the feeling of déjà vu was overwhelming.

“This was the river we floated down on that dead alligator when we escaped from the bank!” Rory realized. He avoided looking at Hex—it had been the magician's fault they were on the run in the first place. Instead, he remembered what lay ahead. “This ends in that horrible waterfall. That must be the place where Adriaen said he plunged in his journal!”

And to think, Rory had been there, unknowing, and he'd almost taken that same fall. He shuddered to think about it.

“So what now?” Bridget asked. “We jump in?”

“I'm not jumping in there,” Fritz said firmly. “I'll drown in a second.”

“We can take the canoe,” Hex offered. Rory turned in surprise, but it was true. An old canoe, just like the Munsees used, was leaning against the side of the tunnel. It was free of dust, so it couldn't have been there long.

“Kieft must have left this here,” Fritz mused. “Maybe he planned to come back.”

“Or maybe he had more stuff he wanted to send down,” Bridget guessed.

“Either way, it's a boon for us,” Hex said. “We can ride that to the waterfall. I can put protection around it so, if we're lucky, we'll all survive the fall.”

“Are you really going to try to protect all of us?” Rory asked, willing the truth from the fallen god. Hex smiled wearily.

“Of course. I promise.” He bent over the canoe, muttering to himself, as Rory watched. He knew in his heart he couldn't trust the man, but everything seemed okay so far.

“Rory, I'm a little scared,” Bridget confided, speaking softly so Hex couldn't hear. “How far do you think we'll fall, anyway? How dark will it be?”

“Don't worry,” Rory reassured her. “I'll hold on to you the whole time. You'll never be alone.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Hex was finished with the canoe, and he and Rory dragged it to the river's edge. Fritz climbed up into one pocket of Rory's pants and Clarence took the other pocket.

“I don't like this,” the roach said, and Rory could hear the fear in his voice. He himself was just as frightened—this was the part of Adriaen's story that had worried him most of all. How could he survive it? He thought of the sigil on his forehead. Maybe it would protect him. He hoped so. He just had to hand himself over to fate.

They sat in the canoe, which Hex pushed into the river with his paddle. Immediately, the water took them, pulling them along quickly. The jagged walls of the cave flew by as the river carried them toward an increasingly louder roar. Rory glanced up, noticing the same arrow painted on the ceiling he'd seen on his last trip down this river, the arrow he now knew pointed the way to the cavern far below. The roaring drowned out everything as the waterfall came closer and closer. Bridget let out a cry, grabbing Rory with both hands. Rory clutched the sides of the canoe as he saw the blackness approach. He had just enough time to whisper a small prayer, and then the canoe hit the falls. He reached for his sister as they bounced over the side, and then they were flying out into the void before falling, falling, falling forever into the black nothingness below.