The Darkness Dwellers Page 11

  “Yes!” Being asked the same question twenty times was enough to exasperate even the nicest girl in the world. “You know, Ananka, you and the other Irregulars take risks all the time. Nobody ever asks DeeDee whether she’s sure she wants to cook up a new batch of explosives. Or asks Luz if she’s sure it’s a good idea to make a laser-shooting robot. Why is everyone so worried about me? I didn’t sign up for the Irregulars so I could sit back and watch my friends have all the fun. So, please, just step aside and let me do my job, will you?”

  “Okay, okay!” I held up my hands. “Don’t go nuts. No one’s gonna confiscate your passport!”

  “Good.” Betty huffed as she buttoned her coat. “The only thing that bothers me is having to go to France while Kaspar is in town on school break. I know you’re going to be busy, Ananka, but will you do me one favor? Will you try to keep Kaspar entertained until I get back?”

  I glanced over at Kaspar, and he smiled back at me. Perfect teeth, twinkling green eyes, delightfully tousled auburn hair … I forced my gaze down to the floor.

  “Sure,” I muttered. “No problem.”

  A horn honked on the street outside Betty’s basement apartment.

  “That must be Madame Beauregard,” Betty said. “Wish me luck!”

  A black limousine sat idling outside the body-piercing shop next to Betty’s building. Two ferocious-looking boys crouched on the sidewalk with their backs to the wall. One had a bright blue Mohawk that rose half a foot from his scalp. The other boy had a four-letter word inscribed on his forehead. With its tattoo parlors and punk supply stores, St. Mark’s Place must have been the sort of street Amelia Beauregard walked in her nightmares. I had a feeling she’d never voluntarily ventured so close to the grungy East Village during her waking hours.

  “Betty!” one of the young punks called out. They both jumped up when they spotted her suitcases. “You want some help with that stuff?”

  “No thanks, Ralph,” Betty replied. “I’ve got it all under control. You guys better be good while I’m gone! No scaring the tourists, you hear!” She turned to me and whispered, “They’re such sweeties.”

  Keeping a careful eye on the natives, Amelia Beauregard’s chauffeur helped Kaspar pack Betty’s four heavy bags into the trunk. Then he opened the door to the backseat and waited for Betty to slide inside. Madame Beauregard was already seated by the opposite window, dressed in her standard gray uniform. She gave me a brusque nod. Then her attention was captured by something behind me, and her face seemed to soften. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Betty kissing Kaspar good-bye. I expected the scene to inspire a lecture on vulgar displays of affection, but for once, Amelia Beauregard looked more wistful than outraged.

  “Wanna grab a cup of coffee?” I asked Kaspar after the limo rode away with Betty inside.

  “Why not?” he replied.

  And that, I’m sad to report, was the last thing that was said for five whole blocks. I tried to recall a single story or shocking fact that I might be able to share with him. Anything would have worked—even one of Luz’s horribly dirty jokes—but my brain simply refused to function in the presence of the boy beside me, and it was Kaspar who finally broke the silence.

  “I really hope it wasn’t a mistake sending Betty to Paris.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I replied. “Betty’s a great master of disguise, but she might be a little too sweet for a job like this.” Maybe he’d noticed it too. Maybe Kaspar was ready to date a girl with a little more edge.

  “I’m not worried because Betty’s sweet,” Kaspar said. “That Beauregard woman would be a match for me, you, or any of the Irregulars. And from what Betty’s told me, it sounds like there might be a little more to Madame than we realize. Don’t you think it’s a bit strange? The woman must know a thousand girls, but she decided to hire the one she met in a graveyard. I suspect Amelia Beauregard has something hidden up her prissy silk sleeve.”

  This was an angle I hadn’t considered. I’d worried about what the woman might do to Betty. But I’d never asked myself why she’d chosen Betty Bent in the first place.

  “Did you say anything to Betty?” I asked.

  “Sure. And she promised to be careful, but I wish one of us could have talked her out of going.”

  “When Betty calls to check in, I’ll tell her to put on a disguise and disappear the second she thinks there might be trouble,” I said. “She must have packed a few costumes in those suitcases. The girl took enough luggage for a three-month trip.”

  “Yeah, she said she wanted to be prepared.”

  “To do what—stage an impromptu production of Les Miserables?” The joke popped out of my mouth and took us both by surprise. Not only did Kaspar get it, he actually laughed! I took a moment to give myself a mental high five. Unfortunately, a moment was all I got.

  “Hey, isn’t that Oona?” Kaspar suddenly asked, pointing to the other side of Third Avenue. “Should we invite her to join us for coffee?”

  “It can’t be. Oona’s staking out restaurants in Chinatown today.” A pretty Asian girl was stomping through the snow in high-heeled boots, headed in the direction of St. Mark’s Place. Her enormous sunglasses and woolly hat couldn’t conceal a startling resemblance to Oona Wong. I was briefly annoyed by the thought of having to add a third wheel to my date with Kaspar. Then I realized what I might be seeing.

  “Holy moly,” I whispered. “We found Lili Liu!”

  “You think that’s Oona’s sister? Betty told me she was causing trouble all over town. Want me to grab her?” Kaspar offered.

  “Not just yet,” I replied. “I promised Betty I’d show you a good time. And there’s nothing more fun than a little detective work. Let’s follow her and find out where she’s going.”

  There are billions of people on earth, and all of us share the same few hair, skin, and eye colors. The way I figure it, we all have a double walking around somewhere. But the odds are pretty good that you’ll never run across yours. So, if you’re strolling down the street one day and you spot a person who looks exactly like you, it’s quite possible that you haven’t found your double. You’ve seen your doppelgänger. And it probably means you’re in for a whole lot of trouble.

  Look-alikes are generally human and often quite amicable, but doppelgängers are invariably evil. It’s said that a person who catches a glimpse of a doppelgänger may have illness or insanity in her future. Which is why I was pretty sure someone was in danger the moment Kaspar and I found ourselves hot on the trail of Oona Wong’s. But I never would have guessed that someone might be me.

  We followed the girl up Third Avenue. Along the way, I tried to instruct Kaspar in the fine art of tailing suspects. To make ourselves less conspicuous, we tucked our hair under our hats and wrapped scarves around our faces. We let Lili Liu walk half a block in front of us, and whenever she paused, we’d pretend to be whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears. I might have gotten a little carried away with my performance, and I might have stopped paying attention. We were halfway to midtown when Lili disappeared.

  Kaspar ran ahead to see if he could pick up the trail. As he passed a free-standing ATM machine encased in ice, a leg shot out and delivered a powerful blow to his chest. He collapsed on the sidewalk, and a figure in black pounced on him. In less than a second, the heel of a fancy black boot was pressing down on Kaspar’s Adam’s apple. I rushed to the scene, desperate to rescue the boy of my daydreams.

  “Come any closer and I’ll crush the kid’s windpipe,” the girl shouted. She even sounded like Oona Wong. “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “My name is Ananka,” I called out from behind my scarf. “I’m friends with your sister!”

  “Ananka? Why are you following me! And who is this?” She kicked Kaspar sharply in the ribs.

  “I’m Kaspar!” he yelped, removing his scarf and revealing his face.

  “Oona?” I asked skeptically. “Is that really you?”

  “Who else would it be!” she snarled, removin
g her heel from Kaspar’s throat.

  “How can I be sure?” I contemplated asking for some sort of ID.

  “I don’t have to prove anything to you, Fishbein!” the girl barked back. It was Oona, all right. No question about it. “What are you two doing? I could have killed you both just now!”

  Only because I was distracted by Kaspar, I thought. Otherwise, I would have kicked your obnoxious butt.

  “We were sure you were Lili,” Kaspar explained as he massaged his throat. “We were trying to follow her back to her lair.”

  “Oh my God! You thought I was Lili?” Oona wailed. “That was the one person I was trying not to look like. You really thought it was her—even though I’m wearing sunglasses and a hat?”

  Oona had never bothered to learn how to travel incognito. “Yeah,” I admitted. “What were you doing this far uptown, anyway? You were supposed to be watching restaurants in Chinatown all day.”

  “I didn’t mean to come all this way. I was heading to Betty’s house because I needed a disguise. Then I noticed you guys following me, so I kept walking until I had a chance to ambush you.”

  “Betty just left for France,” I informed her.

  “I can’t believe I forgot she was leaving today!” Oona moaned. “What am I going to do now? I can’t go anywhere in Chinatown without someone chasing me down the street. Thanks to Lili, the whole neighborhood is convinced I’m a thief. Half the stores on Mott Street have Lili’s photo up by their registers, and all the clerks shout ‘shoplifter’ as soon as they see me. I had no idea how much damage Lili’s managed to do—she’d already hit every restaurant I tried to stake out today. I had some little old lady pelt me with bao the second I stepped through her door. And I’m only wearing this hideous hat because the waiter at another place dumped a bowl of cold sesame noodles over my head.”

  “You really think your sister’s doing all of this just to get you in trouble?” Kaspar asked. “Couldn’t there be some other explanation?”

  “How can you even ask that, Kaspar? You know what my family’s like! This is Lili’s way of punishing me for putting our dad in jail. She knows the worst thing she could possibly do is force me to move to Cleveland.”

  “You won’t have to move anywhere,” I assured her. “We’ll find Lili and put an end to her crime spree. Kaspar’s going to help, too. He needs a bit of excitement while Betty’s gone.”

  “Does he, now?” Oona smirked, her own worries briefly forgotten. “And I guess you’re the girl who’s going to give it to him?”

  If I had been close enough to kick her, I would have.

  THE FISHBEIN GUIDE TO … GREETINGS & SALUTATIONS

  Minutes after you meet a person, your new acquaintance will have formed an opinion of you. She’ll have decided whether you’re affable, interesting, potentially dangerous, or likely to be carrying a great deal of cash. First impressions are often wrong, but that doesn’t mean they’re easy to change. So make sure you always show the world the side of yourself you want it to see.

  Be the First to Offer Your Hand

  It doesn’t matter how old you are—or whether you’re male or female—a firm handshake can make you seem more confident, trustworthy, and friendly. (A scientifically proven fact!) Simply smile, hold out your hand, introduce yourself, and shake. It really couldn’t be any easier.

  Have a Little Something to Say

  Need to impress, charm, or subtly intimidate a person you’re scheduled to meet? Just do a little research! A quick Internet search can reveal a new acquaintance’s hobbies, talents, or criminal record—all of which can make for great conversation starters! (Do take care not to creep people out. No one likes to think they’ve been under surveillance.)

  Never Jump to Conclusions

  If you’re a gifted detective, a person’s appearance can tell you a great deal. However, only a fool would assume there wasn’t any more to the story. The dainty girl dressed in head-to-toe pink could turn out to be a kung-fu champion. The man with the warm, winning smile works as a professional hit man. The shifty-looking kid may end up being your most loyal friend. But you’d never know any of this unless you bothered to talk to them.

  Get Your Foot in the Door

  Sometimes the people you need to meet aren’t terribly interested in meeting you. These situations call for a little ingenuity. For instance, an Australian associate of mine recently arranged a “meeting” with a shady dentist who’d been giving her the slip. Hania took a piece of ordinary bubble gum and used a syringe to inject fake blood into the center. Then she popped the piece into her mouth and strolled into the dentist’s office. Before she reached the receptionist’s desk, she pretended to fall flat on her face. When the woman spotted the blood gushing from my associate’s mouth (and threatening to stain the carpet), the receptionist dragged her back to see the elusive dentist. Rather brilliant, I’d say!

  Leave a Memorable Calling Card

  Once upon a time, ladies carried “calling cards” to leave behind when they visited the homes of friends or acquaintances. I’ve recently had a few made with the Irregulars’ logo. I use them whenever I need to send a message. Sometimes that message is I was here. More often, it’s YOU’VE BEEN WARNED!

  Chapter 16

  Kiki and the Melting Queen

  PARIS: WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 18

  Kiki could smell him long before she saw him. Sergei Molotov cruised in on a wave of cologne so foul that it could only have been purchased at a flea market in Minsk. He threw open the door to Kiki’s cell in the bell tower and held out his long arms. Dressed in a suit that straddled the line between gray and violet, with his black hair slicked back and his handmade Italian shoes polished to perfection, he looked like your basic cartoon villain.

  “Give me a hug, you disgusting little she-beast,” Sergei demanded as he wrapped his arms around his captive. “I cannot believe this will be our very last meeting!” It was a dangerous move on his part. This, after all, was the same man who had shot Verushka Kozlova and attempted to frame her for murder. Kiki would have killed him for far less than a hug. But it was a day for bargains, not bloodshed. Instead of breaking his neck, she merely slammed Sergei against the wall.

  “Where is Livia?” Kiki asked, choking on the stench of Sergei’s cologne.

  Sergei peeled himself off the wall and smiled. “Queen Livia will be arriving in minutes. I came early to give some air to the room. As usual, you smell like goat. And where is the beautiful pink dress I sent? Is that it? Thrown in the corner like a rag? Go! Put it on! You should want to look pretty on your last day alive!”

  Rather than waste time arguing, Kiki pulled the pink polyester dress over her head.

  Sergei stood back and studied his model. “I think the outfit is missing something. What could it … ah yes!” He reached into a pocket and produced an enormous pink bow, which he clipped to Kiki’s hair. “Perfection!” he announced. “I am a fashion genius. The queen will be pleased! I think I hear her now!”

  Livia Galatzina tried to make a grand entrance but came to a sudden halt before she could get through the door. Both aunt and niece gasped at the sight of the other. Livia wore a Chanel suit in an arresting shade of purple. The multiple strands of pearls hanging from around her neck could have been mistaken for the world’s tackiest lobster bib, and her blond wig would have been right at home in the Dolly Parton collection. But it was Livia’s face that rendered Kiki speechless. A gruesome combination of plastic surgery and pancake makeup had given Livia the appearance of a melting wax figure.

  “Ha!” A sharp, spiteful laugh jolted Kiki out of her trance. “Look at the elf!” Sidonia Galatzina suddenly pushed past her mother and sidled into the room. She was a stunning girl with ebony hair and golden eyes. A slightly crooked nose was her only obvious flaw. (Months earlier, I’d broken her schnoz with a single punch.) But hidden beneath the guise of a fairy-tale princess was a black-hearted beast.

  “I believe pink may be your best color, my dear,” Livia observed. “Y
ou shall make a somewhat attractive corpse, Katarina.”

  “And I just love what you’ve done with this place.” Sidonia snickered.

  “Hello, Aunt Livia,” Kiki greeted her relatives politely. “Sidonia. How are my two favorite psychopaths? I was told you were spending the winter in Scotland.”

  “Making a movie about a queen who couldn’t manage to keep her head?” Sidonia replied with a haughty laugh. “Please. You should have known better. I was born to play victors, not victims.”

  “I must admit, I expected better from you, Katarina.” Livia tsked. “Did you really believe we wouldn’t be watching? You publicly announce that the long-lost Princess of Pokrovia has returned from the dead, and you expect us to exile ourselves in a dreary little country that’s filled with nothing but sheep?”

  “I thought you might realize the game was over. There’s no chance you’ll ever be queen again,” Kiki retorted. “The whole world knows I’m alive. If I disappear now, people will start asking questions. And my friends will make sure you’re the very first person they interrogate.”

  “Oh, but you won’t disappear!” Livia exclaimed. “Haven’t you heard? The Princess of Pokrovia has decided to claim her throne after all. The future queen and I have been busy with the preparations all week.”

  “The future queen?” Kiki asked, playing dumb.

  “You probably don’t recognize her at the moment,” said Livia, stroking Sidonia’s smirking face. “But with a white wig and a little makeup, she’s unmistakable. Princess Katarina of Pokrovia—back from the dead and ready to rule. It’s a good thing you’ve always gone to such lengths to avoid having your photograph taken. It would have made it more difficult for my beautiful child to impersonate you if the world had seen what an ugly little creature you are.”