was old and gray and useless. But I’d never imagined thiskind of death—as a monster’s breakfast under the Brooklyn Bridge.
In the distance, I heard Merlin singing like mad. The bird sounded agitated, almost hysterical. In some small way, beneath my own panic, this pleased me. It was nice that there would be someone to mourn my passing, even if it was an addle-brained windup toy.
But I didn’t see, at first, the shining flash of metal swooping and diving at the Duke’s face. I didn’t see the tiny creature valiantly pecking away at the great brute’s eyes, heedless of its own safety. I didn’t see any of this until, his blood rising in a red-hot and overexerted rage, the Duke swatted at the bird with a reckless, overreaching left hook that missed Merlin and connected, instead, with poor Prune-face’s jaw. The shriveled old woman went out like a candle in a gale, spitting out her few remaining teeth on the way down.
After seeing Prune-face’s sad end, the remaining stragglers holding on to my arms were only too happy to put some distance between themselves and the Duke’s anger, so I had little trouble kicking them off. Meanwhile, Merlin kept up his assault, weaving and dodging between blows and landing several good pecks on the Duke’s already pockmarked face, buying me time.
Stumbling to my feet, I made a dash for it. Unfortunately, I was still a bit dizzied, and I didn’t have the slightest idea where I’d come from or where I should be going—nothing but piles of junk, campfires and bridge folk in every direction. Luckily, Merlin appeared again. The bird left off its attack on the Duke and soared past my head, circling twice and whistling an urgent tune. I followed the bird at a full run, dodging groups of crazies as we went. I could hear the giant footsteps of the Duke not far behind, hisvoice bellowing further outrage at being forced into even more exercise.
Together Merlin and I fled through the bridge folks’ shantytown, until we reached the wooden pilings that marked the edge of the East River. The water was a quiet, bottomless black slab in the dark. There was nowhere else to go.
CHAPTER FIVE
T OMMY
N EW Y ORK, 1900
“Now what?” I shouted. “You’ve led us to a dead end!”
Still, the bird hooted and squawked and flew out in looping circles over the dark water, urging me to follow.
“That’s all fine and good for you,” I said. “But I can’t swim!”
An exhausted, gasping roar signaled that the Duke was getting close.
Teeth chattering with more than just cold, I waded into the oily river. In just a few feet I was in over my head and chilled down to my bones. Merlin flew excitedly overhead as I struggled to keep afloat with a kind of made-up dog paddle.
I was trapped between the Duke on land and the deep river all around. There was no way I’d survive a swim to the distant far shore, I was sure of that. I’d already swallowed a load of water and my nose was barely above the waves. But just when I thought I was done for, something happened. The water started to bubbleand froth all around me, and I cried out as I spotted lights drifting toward the surface like the great, glowing eyes of some beast rising from the depths of the East River to swallow me whole.
An enormous hulk of slime and seaweed broke the surface, lifting me high into the air. Clinging to the top, I barely kept a grip on its slippery, cold surface. Two bright lanterns shone from its front, bathing the shore in electric light. A series of hissing jets vented from the sides, righting it on the churning waves. I hung there for a few terrified moments, clinging to this metal giant, unsure what to do. There was a dull clank, followed by the sound of something twisting, unscrewing—metal grinding against metal. Then the top, just inches away from my fingers, popped open, revealing a hatch filled with warm yellow light.
A man poked his head out of the opening—a big, mustached fellow wearing a strange-looking set
In the distance, I heard Merlin singing like mad. The bird sounded agitated, almost hysterical. In some small way, beneath my own panic, this pleased me. It was nice that there would be someone to mourn my passing, even if it was an addle-brained windup toy.
But I didn’t see, at first, the shining flash of metal swooping and diving at the Duke’s face. I didn’t see the tiny creature valiantly pecking away at the great brute’s eyes, heedless of its own safety. I didn’t see any of this until, his blood rising in a red-hot and overexerted rage, the Duke swatted at the bird with a reckless, overreaching left hook that missed Merlin and connected, instead, with poor Prune-face’s jaw. The shriveled old woman went out like a candle in a gale, spitting out her few remaining teeth on the way down.
After seeing Prune-face’s sad end, the remaining stragglers holding on to my arms were only too happy to put some distance between themselves and the Duke’s anger, so I had little trouble kicking them off. Meanwhile, Merlin kept up his assault, weaving and dodging between blows and landing several good pecks on the Duke’s already pockmarked face, buying me time.
Stumbling to my feet, I made a dash for it. Unfortunately, I was still a bit dizzied, and I didn’t have the slightest idea where I’d come from or where I should be going—nothing but piles of junk, campfires and bridge folk in every direction. Luckily, Merlin appeared again. The bird left off its attack on the Duke and soared past my head, circling twice and whistling an urgent tune. I followed the bird at a full run, dodging groups of crazies as we went. I could hear the giant footsteps of the Duke not far behind, hisvoice bellowing further outrage at being forced into even more exercise.
Together Merlin and I fled through the bridge folks’ shantytown, until we reached the wooden pilings that marked the edge of the East River. The water was a quiet, bottomless black slab in the dark. There was nowhere else to go.
CHAPTER FIVE
T OMMY
N EW Y ORK, 1900
“Now what?” I shouted. “You’ve led us to a dead end!”
Still, the bird hooted and squawked and flew out in looping circles over the dark water, urging me to follow.
“That’s all fine and good for you,” I said. “But I can’t swim!”
An exhausted, gasping roar signaled that the Duke was getting close.
Teeth chattering with more than just cold, I waded into the oily river. In just a few feet I was in over my head and chilled down to my bones. Merlin flew excitedly overhead as I struggled to keep afloat with a kind of made-up dog paddle.
I was trapped between the Duke on land and the deep river all around. There was no way I’d survive a swim to the distant far shore, I was sure of that. I’d already swallowed a load of water and my nose was barely above the waves. But just when I thought I was done for, something happened. The water started to bubbleand froth all around me, and I cried out as I spotted lights drifting toward the surface like the great, glowing eyes of some beast rising from the depths of the East River to swallow me whole.
An enormous hulk of slime and seaweed broke the surface, lifting me high into the air. Clinging to the top, I barely kept a grip on its slippery, cold surface. Two bright lanterns shone from its front, bathing the shore in electric light. A series of hissing jets vented from the sides, righting it on the churning waves. I hung there for a few terrified moments, clinging to this metal giant, unsure what to do. There was a dull clank, followed by the sound of something twisting, unscrewing—metal grinding against metal. Then the top, just inches away from my fingers, popped open, revealing a hatch filled with warm yellow light.
A man poked his head out of the opening—a big, mustached fellow wearing a strange-looking set
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