Chapter Thirty-Three
Not two minutes later, there’s a hammering at the door downstairs. All three of us stand frozen, hoping against hope that whoever it is will walk away and leave us alone, but the banging only gets louder.
“Rosie Ryan! It’s the police. We’re here to speak with you. Open up.”
I still haven’t gotten over the shock that Bianca killed Mrs. Evans. Damien’s quicker than me, for he seizes my hand. “Rosie. Pay attention. We’ve no time.”
I shake off my daze. I will get back to that when I have time.
“I know a way out,” Damien says quietly. “We have to go back to the hotel.”
“What?!” Bianca and I exclaim in unison. “Why?”
He ignores our question. “Can we get out that way?” he asks me, pointing to the back wall, and I nod.
We climb out the window one at a time, and the moment our boots touch pavement, we race through the back alleys again.
Somehow, we end up in the one beside the Dominion’s grand entrance, that entrance I had watched take shape over two years.
How full of dreams I had been, seeing my future grow with every brick placed.
I don’t see any kind of future there anymore. Not for me.
Damien motions for us to stay put, then he tugs his fedora lower over his brow, covering his hair and shading his handsome face.
My body feels cold, watching him step out and stand near the grand front entrance, his hands in his pockets.
I need him safely tucked beside me. That’s the only way I’ll ever be warm again.
“Stan!” he whispers sharply. “Stan!”
Stan peeks around the corner, then halts, aghast. “Damien? What are you—”
“Shh! It’s a lie. You know that. We need help.”
Stan understands. Bless the boy. Adjusting his bellboy cap as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening, he comes down the stairs and strolls casually toward Damien. His eyes flick to the alley, and I duck back into the shadows.
“You two are in—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Damien says, cutting him off. “We’ve done nothing wrong. So are you gonna lend a hand or just stand there gawking?”
Folks from The Ward stick together. Always. Unless, of course, we don’t. There’s a beat before Stan nods.
“What do you need?” he mutters.
From the coat check area, he snags three coats and brings them out to us.
He’s doing a grand job of staying calm, looking like our very lives aren’t in jeopardy, but I know his heart is hammering as fast as mine.
Wrapped in those coats and carrying everything we own, we follow him through the hotel’s entrance, our heads tucked within the folds of wool and fur.
It occurs to me that this is the first time I have ever walked through these glorious doors. And it will most likely be the last.
Once we’re inside, we take a sharp left. Stan and Damien shake hands and say something I don’t hear, then Stan goes back to work. Damien has other plans. He heads down a steep set of stairs, then another and another. Bianca and I do our best to keep up.
“Where are we going?” I whisper as we flee.
“Trust me.”
Of course I do, and I always will. So I run with him, fast as I can go.
Bianca runs beside me, terrified and miserable.
Just seeing her this way shatters my heart, it does.
All my life, I have thought of Bianca as a sister.
Now, whether ’twas by accident or not, she has killed the woman who was almost a mother to me.
We can’t leave her behind to deal with Mr. Carboni or the police, but faith, I don’t know how I’ll ever look at her the same way again.
Mind you, I still love her. I cannot bear witnessing her pain.
We land at the bottom of the stairs, in the subbasement.
It’s dark and cold, the cement walls crowded by clunking pipes and boxes.
Damien runs over to one of the walls, and ’tis hard for me not to ask what he’s up to.
The light is dim, but from what I can see, there’s nothing there.
Then suddenly, the wall opens up into a door that wasn’t there before, and he swings his arm so me and Bianca squeeze through, into a corridor lit by pale lamps.
I peer deeper within, and I realize ’tis not truly a corridor but a tunnel carved out of one.
Damien sees my question before I ask it. “Carboni sends stuff through here all the time. Hooch, cash, girls,” he tells me softly, and I realize he has worked here before. What kind of life does he live when I am not around? “This’ll get us far enough that we can take a bus without being noticed.”
Maybe there’s hope after all. Hope’s a quare thing, isn’t it? Shows up in the places you don’t expect. Saints preserve us, I never thought I’d be thanking the likes of a gangster, but here we are, using their tunnel to go free.
“They’ll never get us,” Bianca says darkly as we go deeper into the tunnel. “I can protect us.”
Damien and I stare at the gun in her hand with disbelief.
“What sort of eejit keeps a murder weapon?” Damien exclaims as quietly as he can. “Get rid of it.”
“Holy God above!” I cry at the same time. “Put that away!”
But her eyes are wild. I can see we’ll not move her on this. “They’ll never catch me,” she growls. “Never.”
Damien and I exchange a glance, then he leads us on. “Come on. We’re outta time.”
The tunnel is rough. The floor, walls, and ceiling aren’t cemented here; ’tis only dirt, packed down by boots.
The farther we go, the cooler the air, and the narrower the passageway becomes, with rocks and holes under our feet and roots grabbing at our bodies.
Lately I’ve found I can smell everything better than before.
I heard someone say ’tis because of the baby.
Well now, I smell dirt and sweat and a sharp edge of alcohol, which is no surprise.
This is a smuggling tunnel, after all. I wonder what and who has come through here before us.
Then I remember: Damien has.
I hear men’s voices near the entrance of the tunnel behind us, coming closer. We speed up, but then Damien stops with a sound of dismay. I crash into him and put my hands on his hips to catch my balance. He is staring into the darkness, and when he turns to me, I see desperation.
“What is it?” I ask.
“The gate. ’Tis locked. I’ve never seen it locked. I didn’t think…” Damien looks into my eyes, and I see so much regret and heartbreak there. “I’m sorry, Rosie. I’m so sorry.”
He thinks he has failed me, but he’s wrong. I was the one who nicked Mr. Carboni’s book. If I hadn’t—
“Stop!” a man shouts, then everything happens at once.
Bianca fires the pistol down the tunnel, flashing orange into the darkness and deafening us all. I scream, then I hear a man grunt nearby. I think she got him! But then someone fires back, and Bianca collapses beside me.
“No!” I scream, falling to my knees. “Bianca! Get up!”
It’s hard to see in the dark, but I can’t miss the dark stain spreading quickly over her front. She’s staring straight up at the ceiling, and her lips are moving, but she’s making no sound. I put my ear over her mouth, but I still can’t hear anything. Is she trying to talk to me? Is she praying?
“Oh, Bianca,” I cry, grasping her arms. “Please don’t die. Please, please…”
At last, her gaze seems to focus, and it holds mine. A tear rolls down her face when she blinks. She’s crying but not making a sound. Inside, I’m screaming. I feel like that bullet tore through me as well.
“Love you, Rosie,” she whispers, ripping me apart.
“Oh, Bianca! I love you, too. Please don’t leave me!” I drop lower so my cheek is against hers, and I’m holding her as tight as I can, sobbing. “Bianca, please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
She goes limp. Her body is suddenly heavier in my arms. “No, no, no,” I whimper.
I’m aware of Damien bending down, touching Bianca’s pale throat. His voice cracks when he tells me, “She’s dead.”
“No!” I cry, but I know he’s right.
“Come, Rosie.”
I sit up and see how very still she is. Gently, Damien closes her eyes, for they glow white in the darkness, then he leads me away from Bianca.
“We can’t leave her here.”
“We have to, Rosie.”
I know ’tis the truth, but I can’t bear to let go. When he gathers me to him and she is left alone there, I feel something inside me break. God forgive me. ’Tis my heart.
Me and Damien are left standing at the locked gate, blinded by darkness and tears and the worst feeling of dread.
We’re going to die. I want to die of old age in Damien’s arms, not curled up and alone on the dirt, blood spilling from my body.
Oh, God above, Bianca! How did it come to this?
How are you dead? How can it be that I’m standing here in the dark dirt tunnel, terrified for me, for Damien, and for the tiny heartbeat drumming away inside me?
But ’tis surely happening, and from the look on Damien’s face, we have run out of options.
“Rosie, I can’t open the gate,” Damien tells me.
“What?”
“ ’Tis locked.” He sounds bewildered. “It’s never locked.”
We’re lost. They’ll kill us both, I’ve no doubt.
I stare at the black metal latch holding the gate closed, then something clicks in my head.
Panic makes way for hope, and I drop the sack I’ve been carrying.
On my knees, I dig through it and find the black book.
My hands are shaking wildly, so it’s hard to get control of it at first, but then I flip it open.
From the wee pocket inside the back cover, my trembling fingers pull out the little brass key.
The one I’d stared at for so long, wondering what on earth it was for. All of a sudden, it makes sense.
“Try this.”
Damien regards me with the loveliest expression of gratitude. “You’re one-of-a-kind, Rosie Ryan.”
The shouting behind us is louder now. Is it the police?
Is it Mr. Carboni’s men? I fear the latter might be worse.
More than seeing us locked up, what Mr. Carboni wants most is his book.
Well now, I think, regretting the past day more than ever, he can have it.
I don’t want it. I never wanted nothing to do with any of this.
I crouch and run my fingers along the cracked wall until I find a break in it, and I tuck the book inside.
I hope no one ever finds it. Including him. At least it’s out of my hands.
While I’m doing that, Damien shoves the key in the lock and twists it. The gate squeaks open, and we cross through. He closes the gate behind us, then he sticks his hand through the bars and locks it from the other side.
I whisper, “Keep the key!” I hope the men behind us don’t have one. He sees I’m right and he hands it to me. I tuck the little thing away so it’s safe.
Voices echo down the tunnel, sounding like they are on our tail. “Down here!”
“Who’s got the key?” someone bellows.
“We do,” Damien whispers, and I hear the grin in his voice.
We flee through the darkness, toward what Damien promises is freedom, and I notice a lightness around my neck.
My hand goes to my throat, but it finds nothing there.
My necklace and the beautiful silver locket with RR & DW carved into it, the dearest thing I’ve ever owned, is gone.
It must have fallen off when I held Bianca.
I ache to go back and find it, but I keep quiet.
What’s the use? I’d never find it in the dark anyway.
“Rosie! Keep up!”
I swallow my tears and chase after Damien, but with every step I think of what I’ve lost. The locket’s gone forever, buried with my best friend and only sister, Bianca.
Granny and Mrs. Evans are gone, too. All of them buried, never to be seen again.
The world might never remember them, but God help me, I’ll never forget.