2

Tilly squeezed out of the 72nd Street subway stop and hurried out before the rest of the crowd could catch up. A pristine layer of fresh snow blanketed the Upper West Side, turning it into a winter wonderland. But Tilly didn’t slow down to admire it. She was freezing, and her teeth chattered, and no matter how much she wrapped her arms around her body, the cold wouldn’t go away. Both of Tilly’s shoes had holes, so the walk back to Argent Heights would be like wading through a Siberian sludge for fifteen minutes.

She was starving. School had closed for the blizzard just before lunch, and Tilly hadn’t eaten since dinner last night. 

As she walked past the bodega, Tilly swiped an apple and snuck it into her jacket. She felt crummy about it, but there wouldn’t be much chance of anything before dinnertime. School better open again tomorrow, or she was in for a miserable few days.

A couple of blocks later, Tilly pulled out the apple and started gnawing on it. It tasted funny, a bit of a metallic taste lingering on her tongue. Come to think of it, last night’s rice tasted a bit like that too. Must be coming down with something.

Her wet feet were beginning to lose feeling. She picked up the pace and tried to keep her mind off it.

Five days late. Just give up already. She had tried to put it all behind her and get on with life. Get on with school and actually try to make some friends. But in the last few days, it had started nagging her again. She was beginning to doubt whether what she remembered from eleven years ago had happened at all. She had been five, but she had held on to the promise made to her that day in Central Park.

He had handed her over to Royce and promised to be back in eleven years. That day came and went five days ago. She tried to remember his exact words, but a familiar voice up ahead made her stop in her tracks.

“Can you believe it? A couple of days and we’ll be outta here! Finally!” It was Charlie. He was so loud, Tilly could hear him from half a block away, in the middle of Manhattan. Tilly pulled her hood down over her eyes. It was best not to be noticed by Charlie and his huddle of obnoxious friends from their ultra-exclusive, caps-and-knee-high-socks kind of private school. 

“I’ll show you the trace when we get back,” Charlie went on, waving his hands at his four gawping friends. “Mom gave it to me yesterday.” They looked back at him, clearly impressed by whatever it was that he had been given.

“You can’t wear it yet!” said Melvina, one of the girls in the group. “Not till we’re back.”

Charlie waved her aside. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I can practice without it.”

“You get caught and they’ll kick you out of the Grace before you even step foot in it,” said Melvina.

“Me? Kick me out? Do you know who my dad is?”

Tilly rolled her eyes. Ugh. How obnoxious could one person be?

“What are they gonna do with her?” asked Melvina.

Tilly strained to hear over the traffic, even though she was almost right behind them.

“Who?”

“You know…your cousin or whatever.”

Charles Sterling was Tilly’s eighth cousin, twice removed, or something like that. They were related in some distant way, and that was why they had taken her in.

“Oh…she doesn’t know anything. Apparently her—”

An earsplitting honk from a delivery van brought Tilly back to earth. It screeched to a halt an inch from her face. She stood frozen in the middle of the road while cars zigzagged around her, angry drivers pumping their fists. Charlie’s gang, completely self-absorbed, had already crossed and kept walking. Dammit! What the heck was he talking about?

Tilly put up her hand to stop the oncoming cars and rushed forward, mouthing a hasty thank-you. The driver glared. That was brazen even for New York. But she was desperate to hear what Charlie was saying. They better not be moving again. The family had moved from place to place almost every year for the past five years. Tilly was sick of it. She would be told at the last minute, and school would be disrupted for weeks. It was impossible to make any friends. They had only just returned to New York, and she wanted to stay put.

Plus, she had a nagging feeling that Charlie was talking about that place too. He was connected to it somehow. The place that she had come from. They never talked about it in front of her and told her she was crazy whenever she brought it up. Maybe she was.

Tilly caught up and trailed behind Charlie’s gang, but they had changed topics. It wasn’t long before they arrived in front of the grand old brownstone where Charlie’s and Melvina’s families lived. The five of them stopped outside to chat. Tilly hung back. She couldn’t go in without walking past them, and they wouldn’t let her pass without some kind of nasty jibe. You should really tell the cook to wear her glasses when she cuts your hair. Tilly absentmindedly touched her bangs. They were still wonky from when the cook lopped it off unceremoniously with kitchen shears last week.

Leaning against the streetlight, Tilly gnawed on her apple, trying to work out what they were saying. A hubbub at the far end of the block made her look up. People scrambled and dove out of the way as a shaggy dog with black and white fur bounded down the sidewalk.

“Whoa, what’s this?” Finn, one of Charlie’s friends, jumped in front of the dog and blocked its way. It growled at him.

Tilly moved in to get a closer look. The poor dog was surrounded by Charlie’s hooligan friends, growling and snapping at them.

“Doesn’t have a tag. It’s a stray!” yelled Charlie.

“Someone’s taken good care of it, though,” Melvina pointed out.

Charlie’s lips curled into a grin. “Let’s take it inside and cast a Sangol at it. I’ve been trying to figure out what to cast it against.”

“Someone’s going to look for him,” said Melvina.

Charlie waved her aside. “Chill, Mel! We’ll let him back out soon.”

Tilly didn’t know what he was talking about, but she didn’t like the sound of it. The dog whined and scuttled as Charlie tried to coax him inside. “C’mon, help me push him in.”

 He shoved the dog toward the door. The dog wheeled around and lunged at him. Charlie fell backward and hit the concrete hard. Gritting his teeth, he kicked the dog. It landed roughly on the sidewalk and cowered, whining.

Tilly watched, infuriated, her pulse racing. Her fingers prickled strangely.

Charlie got to his feet with an angry scowl. Tilly knew that he was about to do something terrible. He lifted his arms menacingly.

Tilly stepped in front of the dog. “Back off!”

Charlie blinked in confusion. “What the hell? Get out of my way!”

Blood raced through her veins, and the metallic taste filled her mouth. “Leave the dog alone, Charlie.”

“Oh, dang, she’s mad!” Finn piped up from behind. “What are you gonna do, Charlie?”

Charlie seethed. He stepped forward, looming over her. Tilly was of an average height and build for sixteen, but Charlie was tall. He was an athlete and walked around like he owned everything.

“Move! Or I’ll make sure you don’t come out of your hole for a month.”

She fixed her dark eyes on him and stood her ground, even though she knew he wasn’t kidding—he would make her regret this later. Charlie was vengeful.

In one sudden move, he grabbed her by the sleeve and shoved her to the ground. The dog barked and jumped at him, knocking him back.

“Hey! Hey! Break it up!” A man rushed out of the lobby and stood between Tilly and Charlie. He was dressed in the doorman’s uniform, but he wasn’t the usual doorman.

“This is none of your business,” said Charlie dismissively. He had turned tomato red. He wasn’t used to being challenged, and here was Tilly—and now the doorman, of all people—telling him what to do.

The doorman kneeled in the snow and managed to calm down the dog. He had sharp features, curly black hair, and piercing brown eyes. He looked uncomfortable in his uniform.

“I said leave him.” Charlie now stood over them with arms crossed. Tilly knew he wouldn’t back down. Not in front of his friends.

The doorman stood up calmly. “It’s not your dog.”

Charlie looked stunned. “How long have you been working for us again?”

“Started this morning,” said the doorman distractedly, looking into the distance.

“Well, I guess it won’t be for much longer, then,” spat Charlie. “What’s your name?”

“Archimedes,” he muttered while waving at someone. “You can call me Archie.”

Charlie looked even more infuriated at being ignored. A few seconds later, another man in a black coat and blue turban came running over. He stopped just in front of them and bent over, trying to catch his breath. The dog lunged toward him affectionately.

He ruffled the dog’s fur and looked relieved. “Laksa! Thought I’d never find ye again in this crazy town.” After a few more breaths, he smiled at Archie. “Thanks a bunch! He’d have run all the way to Brooklyn if ye hadn’t stopped him.”

“Take him and go. Quickly,” said Archie.

“O’right, o’right.” The man in the turban made a friendly nod at them and headed down the street. Laksa gave Tilly’s hand a quick lick and brushed against her affectionately before following.

Archie turned to Tilly, who was still on the ground, and helped her up. He gave her a strange look and headed inside, completely ignoring Charlie.

Charlie dismissed his friends angrily and turned to Tilly. “You shouldn’t have done that.” He walked away with a determined scowl, leaving her with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. This won’t end well.