“Johnny, all those people.” Ada’s gaze was drawn over his shoulder, toward the rows and rows of unmoving bodies. They’d been snatched off the street and murdered by a madman’s experiments. And Johnny had been the one to give them up.
“Can we talk about this later?” Corinne looked between the two of them, frowning. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
She moved to help Ada but hesitated when Johnny stood. He turned his knife over once in his hands. Wilkey’s blood still gleamed red along its edge.
“I can’t let you leave,” he said. “No one else can know.”
He spoke so frankly, so simply. Then he drove his blade into Corinne’s belly, aiming upward for her heart.
Ada’s vision slanted, but in that moment her nausea and headache deserted her. She was left with nothing but the clarity of Johnny Dervish with a bloody knife in his hand, and Ada knew he was coming for her next. She closed her eyes and told herself to sing, but the music had deserted her too. A hot, aching sob was building in her chest. She couldn’t breathe.
In a faraway and foggy part of her mind, she had the thought that maybe she couldn’t live without Corinne. Maybe her lungs knew that. Maybe her heart would stop next.
When she heard Corinne’s voice, echoing around her in a cloud of static, she almost couldn’t comprehend the words.
“This is a public service announcement, brought to you by Gerard Manley Hopkins, who gave a lot more thought to the meaning of life than is strictly healthy.”
The cavalier tone was entirely Corinne’s. Ada opened her eyes to the impossibility before her and immediately felt sick again. James was kneeling on the floor, and the girl in his arms was Madeline, her long hair tangled around her face as she gasped for breath.
Johnny was staring down at them, knife in hand. He looked wildly around the room; then realization dawned on his face. Ada followed his eyes to the loudspeaker mounted over the door. Johnny swore and fumbled for his earplugs. He ran into the corridor.
“Maddy, come on,” James was saying, his voice breaking. “Maddy, please.”
Ada struggled against her restraints, but of course it was useless.
“James, you have to untie me,” she said.
He didn’t look up. Over the PA system, Corinne was flying through the poem at a breathless rhythm. Underneath her voice Ada could hear a sonorous tune, churning out persuasion so powerful that Ada almost lost herself in it. It was a French horn. She shook her head to break away from the music and whatever illusion Corinne’s poem would conjure.
“James!” Ada cried. “Look at me. He might come back. We have to go.”
At last he tore his gaze away from Madeline and laid her gently on the floor. He fumbled at the buckles with shaking hands but finally managed to free Ada’s right wrist. She helped him with the other straps and jumped up. Together they dragged Madeline to her feet. She screamed through gritted teeth but stayed upright between them, her arms over their shoulders. Ada had never seen so much blood on a person. Madeline’s pale pink dress was drenched in crimson.
They staggered through the iron-paved corridors. Ada kept looking over her shoulder, certain that someone would be following them. The hall remained empty. The loudspeakers were silent now, but the uneasy quiet was short-lived. A bell started ringing from the upper floor—the fire bell, Ada realized. Corinne’s poem must have fabricated flames for everyone in earshot. Under the dual spell of her words and Charlie’s horn, no reg without earplugs would have been able to resist.
She made sure that James had a good hold on Madeline and started to open the door.
“Wait,” James said. His voice was hoarse. “Corinne said to wait.”
“Wait for what?” Ada whispered.
“She said we’d know.”
There were nurses running past, as well as a few men in suits who must have been HPA. None of them noticed that the basement door was cracked. Ada watched the flashes of color until there was no one left in the hall. Another few interminable seconds passed, and Ada itched with the impulse to throw open the door and run for freedom. She waited.
The speakers crackled again, and Corinne’s voice filled the hall.
“That’s all for tonight, ladies and gents. Don’t forget to tip the band.”
Ada pushed open the door and helped James and Madeline up the last few steps. The three of them weaved through the corridors toward the lobby. Madeline was gasping in her ear, and Ada’s hand was so slick with blood that she could barely keep a grip on her.
Corinne and Charlie ran to meet them as they stumbled into the lobby. The fire bell was still clanging with deafening fervor. Looking over Corinne’s shoulder, Ada saw that the desk nurse was slumped over her paperwork, snoring loudly.
“Go!” Corinne shouted.
Charlie wrenched open the front door. Corinne pushed at Ada and James from behind. They barely managed to keep Madeline supported between them. The cold air assaulted Ada as Charlie yanked the door shut behind them. He was saying something, but Ada couldn’t hear him over Madeline’s cries and the ringing echo of the fire bell in her ears.