16. Roc
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ROC
Darkland has been my home for so long that all of its flaws have blurred into the background. But now that I’m here with Wendy and the Captain, I can see it all.
The cobblestone streets are black-stained with soot. The buildings are crooked and stacked one on top of the other. Rainwater and the muck of a city is gathered in the gutters.
And yet, I feel immediately at home.
I love the Umbrage.
I love the grime and the people. I love the narrow streets laid out like a maze. So easy to get lost in. I love the hawkers and the newsboys and the grizzled fishermen.
But most of all, I love the outlaws.
They’re everywhere in the Umbrage.
That boy on the next corner with the backwards newscap, the tweed jacket, the toothpick in the corner of his mouth.
And the woman hurrying through the crowd pulling a child behind her. It’s not her hands you have to watch, but the little girl’s. They rush past an old man with a cane and the woman bumps into him, jostling the child. They apologize profusely. The man scowls.
The little girl gets a wallet for the trouble. The mom winks at her and they keep going.
In the Umbrage, anything is possible.
I’m at the head of our little ragtag group. Wendy is beside me, pretending she’s not interested in my homeland even though she is. I can see her examining the streets and the people looking for things that remind her of me.
And the Captain on the other side of her in his long coat made of royal blue broadcloth, both pistols at his hips. He fits right in here.
Firecracker is nestled in one of the deep pockets of the Captain’s coat, his paws curled over the edge. Honestly it didn’t take much coaxing for the Captain to take in our kitten. He’s already falling for the little beast.
Behind us, Vane, Winnie, and Asha. I don’t have to see Asha to know she’s taking in the details even more than Wendy is.
And Winnie Darling…she might be more of a feral cat than Firecracker.
“Take me to the place where you grew up,” she’s saying.
“Absolutely not,” Vane replies.
“Why not?”
“We’re here on a mission and the mission is not exhuming my past.”
I look back over my shoulder. “Our childhood home is outside the city, Darling. It would take us a while to reach it and I suspect your boyfriend is in a hurry to leave.”
Vane scowls at me. “Oh and you’re so eager to see our childhood home?”
I turn back to the street. “I live there.”
“What?” He comes around me and forces me to a full stop. “You live at the manor?”
“The Remaldis permitted me to buy it back. I’ve owned it for going on…well, a long time .”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrug like it’s no big deal, but it is. I didn’t tell him because I knew he’d react this way. He had his own life on Neverland. What I did with mine mattered not. And if I’m being totally honest, while the manor may be my primary residence on paper, I rarely step foot inside of it. The memories are too painful. The halls too quiet. The ghosts too plenty.
But the thought of someone else inhabiting it, that was something I could not bear, so I bought it.
“You should have told me,” Vane says. The scowl is gone now, replaced by something that looks an awful lot like hurt.
“I’m telling you now.”
He scoffs and returns to his Darling. But I know that won’t be the last I hear of it.
We continue on. Vane said the hat was in the warehouse. We only have one warehouse. It’s tucked at the end of a narrow alley just behind Vagaries and Wilcox on the northwest end of the Umbrage. On foot, we should be there within twenty minutes.
We walk in silence.
Finally, we come to Wilcox Avenue where Wilcox & Sons takes up the entire street corner, the front of it all in glass. Wilcox is known for their impeccable tailoring and imported suits. I own seven as of right now. When Vane and I ruled the Umbrage, we could walk into Wilcox any time of day or night and take what we wanted.
We cut down the alley where empty crates are stacked up outside Wilcox, the bright green logo painted over the wooden slats.
“Do you remember exactly where the hat is?” I ask Vane as the alley spills into an unloading area that proceeds the warehouse bay door.
“The cabinet, if I had to guess,” he says.
Next to the bay door is an unmarked man door with a giant padlock installed on a thick iron strap. The padlock is a combination, the wheels inside marked with the language of the Bone Society, the language of monsters.
I pick up the lock. The metal is cold in my hand, pitted with rust, but the wheels turn without complaint.
There are seven wheels, each with twenty-seven glyphs. I spin the dials, remembering the combination easily. Once it’s inputted, I yank the wheelhouse down and the lock pops open.
“How long has it been since you were here?” Vane asks.
“Years, at least.”
“Is the Variant collection still here?”
“Yes.”
He turns to Winnie Darling. “Be careful what you touch.”
“What is the Variant collection?” the Captain asks me.
“A collection of hats.” I smile at him. He is not convinced.
Wendy looks slightly intrigued by all of this. Asha is practically salivating. She’s heard of the Variant Collection. I can tell.
Winnie Darling grabs Vane’s hand and squeezes.
I push the door in.
Diffused silver light spills in through the barred windows along the back wall. There are rows and rows of crates and trunks and stuffed shelves along the brick walls.
Dust swirls in the air.
I glance down at the floor and come to a stop.
There is a noticeable set of tracks in the layer of dust disappearing down an aisle of crates.
Should have known someone else would beat us here.