Inside the Shadow City by Kirsten Miller Page A

book.
    The gates opened at my halfhearted touch. As I approached the tree, I was unnerved to see the face reappear, sporting a very unholy grin.
    â€œHello,” it said, and I jumped backward, stumbling over a tiny gravestone. The face laughed, and I realized it was attached to a small girl, her hair tucked beneath the hood of a black jacket. “A little late for church, aren’t you?” asked Kiki Strike, stepping out from behind the tree and pulling back her hood.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” I asked stupidly.
    â€œWaiting for you.”
    â€œOh,” I responded, finding it difficult to concentrate. I couldn’t help thinking that she didn’t look quite real. Up close, her skin was too pale, and her features too carefully crafted. She was, at the same time, both very pretty and extremely odd-looking. I asked the only question that popped into my head. “Why did you steal the ring?”
    Kiki raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you learn anything today? It’s not polite to accuse people of crimes they didn’t commit.”
    â€œSo it was true about Naomi?”
    â€œOf course it was. When a story’s
that
good it’s got to be true.”
    â€œBut how did you know that the ring was in Naomi’s handbag?”
    â€œI know a lot of things,” Kiki said matter-of-factly.
    â€œAbout The Five?”
    â€œAmong others,” she replied in a slightly taunting tone.
    â€œWhat are you getting at?” I demanded. “Are you saying you know something about me?”
    For a moment she was quiet. Her pale eyes wandered across my face as if she were searching for something she’d seen before.
    â€œLet’s see. I know you’re short on friends. I also know you’re a little strange. And I figure you must be pretty bored, or you wouldn’t have spent so much time following me around. But I know a few other things that make me think you might be very interesting.”
    I couldn’t tell whether I should be frightened or flattered. No one had ever found me interesting before.
    â€œIs that good or bad?” I asked.
    â€œThat, Miss Fishbein, is entirely up to
you
.”
    She handed me a slip of paper and then headed for the street, leaving me in front of the empty church, still thinking of all the questions I should have asked.
    Halfway to the gates, Kiki turned and waved good-bye, her hand cupped in a familiar fashion. As far as I knew, only a small group of people shared the same style of wave. And since I was fairly sure that Kiki Strike wasn’t a member of the British royal family, there was only one conclusion to reach. The shock hit me like a thundering wildebeest. Kiki Strike was the creature that had crawled out of the hole in front of my house. I wasn’t the only person who had seen the Shadow City. She had gotten there first. For a moment, it seemed as if everything I had worked for had been stolen from me. Then I looked downat the piece of paper I was holding.
Café des Amis, Saturday, 09:00,
it said. I had been invited to breakfast.
    â€¢ • •
    Kiki Strike sat at a small outside table with the gossip section of the
New York Post
spread out in front of her. An enormous bowl of café au lait held the paper in place as a cold April breeze tried to blow it into the street. A green felt beret sat atop her head at a cocky tilt, and the starched collar of a khaki uniform peeked over the paper.
    â€œYou’re late,” she snapped as I approached, not bothering to look up. “If you’re going to work with me, you’ll have to learn to be on time.”
    â€œWho said we were going to be working together?” I shot back.
    â€œHow else do you expect to find the Shadow City?” she asked nonchalantly, licking her finger to turn a page.
    â€œYou’ve found another entrance, haven’t you?”
    Kiki looked up, her eyes glistening dangerously, like icebergs at