“See,” the ghosts whispered, and their voices swirled inside him. “Feel. Know.”
The ship pitched violently on the rough seas. The dark was all-consuming. It smelled of sick, of vomit and urine and defecation. Above all, it smelled of fear. Memphis could feel the presence of so many others. More chained men beside him, above him, below. One long human chain of misery. Cracked, desperate voices prayed to the gods, begging first for freedom, then for death. Iron shackles chafed Memphis’s wrists and ankles.
The rolling green of farmland and tobacco fields. Men in powdered wigs shot rifles at birds. In the distance, the big house—domed, scrubbed, white—loomed like a predator.
“Release!” the gentleman of the house called.
The birds flew up. The shots rang out. Bloodied feathers fell from the sky and pierced the ground. The slave gathered the dead and dying birds, some still twitching, in a bag. In his study lit by precious tallow candles, the gentleman kept his ledgers. Columns that weighed souls like grains of rice. The slave stood at the ready. At his master’s commands, he could only nod, his tongue having been cut out.
“We hold these truths to be self-evident…”
The auction block loomed, a gateway to misery. The frightened, half-dead and chained, blinking in the light of a new world.
“That all men are created equal…”
A family scattered to the winds like seeds whose blooms were a resilience borne of grief. The chains. The iron masks. The teeth torn from mouths. The dogs set loose.
“That they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights.”
The crack of the whip.
“That among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”
“Stop!” Memphis screamed.
When Memphis came to, he fell to his knees, crying in the middle of Wall Street. His blood itched beneath his skin like a rash he could never fully scratch. He had seen. He had felt. He knew. When he looked up into the faces of the ghosts, he remembered the wraith in the graveyard and the family at the table and his mother’s tearstained face lit by the jaundiced moonlight in the land of the dead.
“Tell our story. Do not forget us,” the ghosts whispered.
The people on the steps had grown impatient in their fear: “Why don’t you do something about this?” “Yeah! Make ’em go away!” “Kill them!” “Get rid of them!”
Memphis stood.
“Memphis, come on,” Sam urged. He reached for Memphis and Memphis shrugged him off.
“No.”
He turned to face the people cowering on the steps of the hotel. “No. These are our ghosts. They’re here. We’re gonna have to learn to live with them.”
“What’s he saying?” “He’s gone anarchist on us!” “I knew we couldn’t trust those Diviners!”
“They just want us to listen,” Memphis said to the others. “We’ve been trying to get rid of them instead of listening to what they need to say to us. Your uncle was right about that, Evie: We have to see them ghost by ghost.”
The people gathered in front of the hotel were still terrified, though. Terrified people were a threat. Ling had been right about that, Memphis knew.
“Look upon your sins,” the ghosts cried.
“What’s your name?” Memphis asked the ghost in front.
“My name?” The ghost turned his head toward the night sky as if it might be written there. “My name is Lost. For I was stolen. What is stolen, haunts.”
“They’re going to riot soon,” Ling said, casting a wary glance at the people on the steps and the police reloading.
“I need you to trust me on something,” Memphis said.
“Okay, pal,” Sam said. “You’re scaring me, but okay.”
“We’re with you.” Evie and Henry and Ling nodded. Theta took his hand.
“We will tell your story. You will not be forgotten. I wish you a peaceful rest,” Memphis said to the ghosts. He placed his hands against the chest of the leader. As they were joined, he saw birds against blue skies. He heard the laughter of children. And for just a moment, he saw his mother in her feathered cape lying under a stripped tree in that blighted land of shadow and yellow moonlight with Conor Flynn nestled close under her wing. She sat up, smiling through tears.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes. I believe in you, my son.”
Memphis let go.
“Healer,” the man whose name was Lost said. “He builds the new Eye from the ashes of the old. It will keep the door between worlds from closing ever again. It will allow the King of Crows to stay here forever. To sow chaos and division. Hate and terror. Until your dreams lay in tatters and you no longer recognize yourselves. You must not allow this to happen.”
The ghosts walked through the Diviners, fading bit by bit, until they were a part of the city itself.
“They’re gone,” Evie said.
But the people on the steps looked at the Diviners as if they were a threat.
“Dangerous,” somebody said.
“Oughta lock ’em up.”
Sarah Snow came forward, her arms raised. “Let us pray, brothers and sisters. Pray for the soul of our nation! To be rid of those who would tear it asunder! Heavenly Father…”
The people bowed their heads.
“You thought telling the people the truth would make a difference.” Ling shook her head. “Now they just hate us for telling them the truth. People want to be safe, not free.”
“What now?” Evie asked.
But Memphis had his head angled toward the sky. “We’re listening,” he said. “We’re listening.”
A SPIT IN THE EYE
Sam had seen Evie back to the Winthrop. And after the shock of the night’s confrontation with the ghosts had worn off, Evie told him about the rest of the terrible evening, from Woody’s revelations to Jake’s lies and her own humiliating downfall. “Gotta hand it to you, Lamb Chop. When you go for something, you go all in,” he said, feeding her more aspirin and water.
“If Jake Marlowe wants to attack me, I’ll take it. But James did everything they asked of him and more. He was a hero, and now Jake’s calling him a coward and a deserter. I hate Jake Marlowe. I hate him so much.”
“I’m not arguing with you, Baby Vamp. He won this round.”
“He’s rich. He’ll win all the rounds,” Evie said. “Sam, Project Buffalo happened, but we have no proof. And now those Shadow Men are going around killing people who could prove it. And somewhere out there is the King of Crows playing games. It feels as if nothing matters. Truth, honor, trying to do what’s right. None of it matters.”
“That’s awfully cynical.”
“I feel cynical.”
“There’s still stuff to believe in. Still good.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Well, for one, we’re still fighting. We haven’t given up.”
“What else?” Evie challenged.
“For another, Memphis and Theta are back together. We did something spectacular tonight, something that felt… right. And Mabel Rose is out there working for the people.”
Evie nodded. “What else? Keep telling me the good things.”