Spirits in the Park (40 page)

“You're safer without me. You all are. Every minute I stay means I get closer to being discovered.”

“By who?” Rory asked. “I don't understand.”

“I love you, Rory,” his father said. “I hope I see you again one day. Good-bye.”

With that, Rory's father backed away, disappearing down Eighth Avenue. Once again, Rory was alone. It didn't hurt any less this time around.

Sly Jimmy stood on the outskirts of Columbus Circle, watching the crowds. He'd come to see bloodshed, and he hoped he wouldn't be disappointed. He'd been keeping a low profile since the screwup at the Stuyvesant farm, but he hoped Kieft would somehow forget about him if he stayed out of sight long enough.

Unfortunately, that wish proved overly optimistic.

“Hello, Jimmy,” a voice breathed in his ear. Jimmy fell back, terrified. A possessed little girl stood before him, her eyes going crazy in their sockets.

“I can explain about the farm,” Jimmy stammered.

“Save it,” Kieft's voice said. “You may redeem yourself today. Have you seen the Munsee gentleman standing near the Mayor?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy said. He'd been shaken to see an actual Munsee free from the Trap. He hoped the brave didn't try to pay him back for giving his people a bad name.

“I would most appreciate it if that man were to not survive the hour. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes!” Sly Jimmy promised eagerly. “I won't fail you again!”

“I know,” Kieft's voice said. “Or you will not live to fail me thrice.”

The rain was falling in sheets by the time Bridget and her companions approached Bethesda Fountain. The plaza was empty, any visitors driven to shelter by the worsening storm. They stopped under the trees, though the leaves offered no protection from the water pouring from the angry sky. Soka gazed out at the statue, swaying in place as she muttered to herself in her own language. Finally, she gasped.

“I can see it!” she declared. “A web wrapped all around the statue, trailing down to the fountain in three spots, like the pegs of a tent. If I can release those three points, she should be free.”

“Nothing to it!” Bridget said brightly. “Right?”

Soka nodded, swallowing. She stepped out into the plaza, pushing her soaking hair away from her face as she concentrated on the statue. Bridget urged Tucket to follow, which the wet dog reluctantly did. But Bridget held back, turning to Toy.

“Jason?” she said awkwardly. “I just want to say . . . You've been a really good friend. You saved me and I'll always be grateful. But do you think you can help me one more time? My brother is in a lot of danger. He needs you a lot more than I do. Can you do this one thing for me and go help him?”

Toy slowly nodded. The paper boy turned to go, but Bridget strode over and gave him a big hug. She hoped their papier-mâché wasn't so soggy it stuck them together, but she was willing to risk it. She pulled back, and for the first time, she could see Toy's soul in his eyes. He was trying to say something, she realized. His father, Burr, had taken out his paper tongue to keep Jason from giving Burr away, and ever since, the paper boy had been mute. But he wanted to speak to her now.

“An oo,” he said finally, and her heart ached. Thank you.

“Thank you, too, Jason. I'll see you later, I promise.”

Toy nodded once, then ran off into the trees. Bridget watched him disappear into the rain with a heavy heart, then turned back toward the plaza to finish what she'd started.

Soka was bent over the fountain's edge, Tucket by her side. Bridget could barely see her through the wall of water crashing down on them. Lightning flashed in the distance, making her jump. If this storm was really going to get as bad as Fritz said it might, then they had to move quickly. A mist had risen around them, driven up by the rain, and the angel rose above it like a true creature of heaven. Bridget almost felt sorry for bringing it back to earth. Almost . . .

Bridget ran to Soka's side. The Munsee girl was still muttering as she ran her fingers along something invisible in front of her. Bridget leaned in to see what was going on.

Zip!

An arrow whizzed by Soka's cheek, making Bridget jump. But Soka didn't even flinch.

“Stop it, Tammand,” she said, not turning from her task. “If you want to hit me, then hit me. Don't insult me with these near misses.” Bridget spun around to see Soka's brother warily approaching them, Chepi on his shoulder. He had another arrow cocked in the bow. His face was stone.

“I can't let you do this, Soka,” he called out over the wind. “We need her as a hostage. If you set her free, you could doom us all.”

“That's ridiculous,” Soka answered, not glancing back at him. “Returning her to her people can only help us.”

“You heard Tackapausha say how important it was that she remain a hostage,” Tammand continued. “When Askook showed me your trail, I knew I had to follow. I don't want you hurt, Soka, so I won't tell anyone if you just come back with me now. But I can't let you do this.”

“You're not going to shoot me,” Soka informed him. “You're my brother.”

“Maybe I will,” he replied, sending another arrow whispering by her cheek. In a flash he notched another arrow. “You're my family, but I can't let you gamble with the lives of our people.”

“We're not scared of you!” Bridget said. “You're a bully, just like your snake-faced buddy!”

“You can't stop me, Tammand,” Soka declared.

Tammand looked miserable. “I'm sorry, Soka. I love you, but our people come first.”

He let loose another arrow, and this one flew straight at Soka.

Bridget reacted quicker than she ever thought possible. She launched herself at Soka, pulling the girl to the ground just as the arrow reached the space where her heart had been moments before. The arrow flew on, bouncing off the fountain's pedestal, to land in the water with a splash. Soka was speechless with fury, pushing herself to her feet.

“You are no longer my brother, Tammand,” she said, her eyes burning. “I don't know what you are anymore. But you are not my brother.”

“I'm sorry, Soka,” Tammand said softly, his face pained. “But you never listen.”

Bridget raced across the plaza and tackled the Munsee youth to the ground. Tucket limped over, growling, and sat right by Tammand's head. Bridget adjusted her grip to keep Tammand from getting up, but the Munsee wasn't resisting. He seemed to know that his chance had passed. And lines were now drawn that could never be undone. She'd feel for him if he hadn't almost killed his own sister. She turned around to yell back at Soka.

“Finish it!”

Soka nodded, and ran back to the fountain. Bridget lay back and stared up at the rain, watching the gray sky flash with lightning and thunder. The storm was getting worse and they were running out of time.

A happy yell caught her attention. Soka had moved on to another corner of the fountain. And already, the angel was starting to sag, listing toward the ground. A frightened thought occurred to Bridget, which was confirmed once the second tie was undone and the statue leaned even farther toward the ground.

“Tucket, watch him!” she ordered the dog as she jumped to her feet. She began to run toward the fountain as Soka, who hadn't been looking up as she worked, concentrated on the last tie.

“Wait!” Bridget yelled, but the wind had picked up so much that she couldn't be heard over its roar. She ran more quickly, just as Soka stood up in triumph. Soka looked up, flushed with success, but her excited expression soon changed to panic as she realized what was happening. The statue, with no invisible binds to hold it, was falling.

Bridget kicked it up a notch as the statue seemed to fall through the air in slow motion. It cleared the pillar it had stood atop for over a hundred years and dropped toward the shallow pool below. Bridget leaped into the pool, wading frantically through the shallow water. As she watched, the statue began to move, as if waking up. Bridget jumped through the air, sliding beneath the angel just before it hit the ground.

The statue lay in her lap, faceup. Only it wasn't a statue anymore. The wings had broken off midfall to land on either side of them. But the woman who had worn them for years and years of captivity was now free, slowly stirring in Bridget's lap as her bronze skin faded to pink flesh. The angel's head, which had looked down for decades, lifted up to gaze at Bridget. The mouth long closed moved once again.

“Who are you?” the woman asked weakly, her voice scratchy from disuse.

“I'm Bridget, Abigail,” Bridget said, smiling through the rain. “Welcome back.”

THE EYE OF THE STORM

T
he number of gods in the plaza was growing quickly. Fear still sent ripples through the crowd as they stared across the road at the park, but Nicholas had hope that maybe they'd keep their composure when the time came to face the Munsees.

“If we stay calm, we'll be fine,” Nicholas advised the Mayor, who didn't appear to be even listening as he kept his nervous eyes trained on the park. “Buckongahelas will talk to his father and hopefully we can nip any fighting in the bud.”

“You will be shot down before the savage has time to take a step,” a new voice interjected. The crowd fell back as Willem Kieft walked up, Tobias and Boss Tweed at his heels. “Tackapausha does not care for forgiveness. He lusts only for revenge.”

“You don't know that,” Nicholas insisted.

“Do you remember how you died?” Kieft asked Hamilton, ignoring Nicholas. “Out on that godforsaken cliff across the river, dueling pistol in your hand, facing Aaron Burr, a man who hated you more than anything? You didn't want bloodshed then, either, did you? So what did you do?”

“I fired into the air,” Hamilton muttered, his eyes pained. Kieft shook his head at the fragility of honor.

“Leaving Burr to calmly shoot you down like a wounded dog. Will you repeat your mistake here? Will you fire into the air when faced with someone who hates you that much? Tackapausha will not hesitate to cut you down where you stand.” Kieft turned to address the rest of the crowd. “We created this Trap for a reason. This is not a question of right and wrong. This is about fantasy and reality. The fantasy is that the Munsees will reemerge, see that we didn't kill one of their own the way they'd believed, and then forgive us for locking them away for a century—promising to live with us side by side in harmony until the end of days. We all know that will not happen. The reality is that we will fight, they will fight, we will die, they will die, and blood will run through these streets again. We cannot live together, that has been proven again and again. We took this island from them, yes, and it no longer matters if it was right or wrong. It happened. And Mannahatta has been ours alone for a hundred and fifty years. Now the savages want to take it back for themselves. Well, I say that they don't belong here anymore. We do. Under their watch, this island was practically deserted; under ours, it has blossomed into the greatest city in the world. That makes this land ours and ours alone. And I, for one, refuse to give it up!”

To Nicholas's horror, heads were nodding throughout the crowd behind Kieft. The old god sounded so matter-of-fact, so reasonable, while talking about trampling a people into the ground, that Nicholas had to shake his head in horrified admiration. But he could not let the man go unanswered.

“You are a liar, Mr. Kieft!” he exclaimed, leaping up the steps that led to the base of the pedestal. “You speak of fear and war as if they are the natural order of things. You talk about the past as if it had to happen that way. You are wrong. We created our past, with the Munsees. Together, we made every war, every watchful peace, every sneak attack, every truce. Together we can agree to change.”