Lair of Dreams (The Diviners 2)

The shock of feathers across his cheek like a slap startled him. The crow cawed in his face, and Memphis jolted out of his healing trance, sweating and confused. His hands still gripped Noble Bishop’s arm, but Noble himself lay on the ground, still as death.

“Mr. Bishop, you gotta get up now,” Memphis pleaded, panicking as he shook the motionless old drunk. “Mister, please, please wake up. Please!”

Terror curled inside Memphis. He was close to crying. High above, the sky pulsed with lightning. Wind kicked up, sending dead leaves skittering down the street. A pounding rain started. Lightning struck a tree across the street and a branch fell off, burned and smoking. Memphis dragged the old man into the alley, where he could be protected.

“Sweet Jesus,” Memphis said, looking down at Noble’s still body. “I’ve killed him.”

A couple of policemen walking their beat came down the street. Memphis knew these particular cops were dirty for Dutch Schultz, and they’d love nothing better than to take one of Papa Charles’s runners in for any offense they could think up. Murder would be a hell of a charge.

“Mr. Bishop please, please wake up,” Memphis pleaded.

Noble Bishop coughed and breathed. And then he settled into a light snore that was the best sound Memphis had ever heard.

“I did it,” he said, grinning in astonishment at his hands. “I did it,” he said again, almost reverently. The cops were nearly there.

“Hey! There’s a sick man here!” Memphis shouted from behind the protection of the wall. Once he saw the cops heading toward the alley, he turned and ran away, climbing up and over the fence toward home.

PART TWO

The gloom of January weighed on New Yorkers. The days were short and the nights were very long for people who’d grown to fear sleep. Mothers kept close watch by their children’s beds. The rich asked their servants to sit nearby and wake them every few hours. The bootleggers’ business was booming. The city was wary and afraid and close to violence.

But for Ling and Henry, it was the nights they lived for. Dreams provided an escape from the worries of the real world, a refuge of hope and possibility. While they waited in the beautiful old train station, Henry would play the piano, trying out new songs, looking to Ling for approval or boredom. If she wrinkled her nose as if something smelled bad, he abandoned it. But if she cocked her head to the side and nodded slowly, he knew he was on the right path.

“Anytime you want to come to the Follies, just say the word, and I’ll get you the best seat in the house,” Henry promised.

“Why would I do that? I can listen to you here.”

“It’s not just me, you know. There are grand dance numbers and singers, big stars. It’s very glamorous, don’tcha know?”

“It sounds long and tedious.”

“Most people love the Follies.”

“I’m not most people.”

“Darlin’, truer words were ne’er spoken,” Henry said and laughed.

Wai-Mae was always there to greet their train when it arrived in the forest. She’d beam at Ling and take her hands like a sister, then glance shyly at Henry.

“Miss Wai-Mae, you look radiant this evening,” Henry would say with exaggerated courtesy, and Wai-Mae would giggle behind the cover of her hand. Sometimes, Ling and Wai-Mae would join Louis and Henry for a picnic on the grass bordering the river behind Louis’s cabin, where music echoed across the forest—the bright syncopation of Dixieland threaded with the high notes of the erhu.

“Here, I’ll show you how to dance the Charleston,” Ling said, hopping up and taking Wai-Mae’s hand in hers.

But when she showed her, Wai-Mae begged off. “What a terrible dance! So ungraceful! Not like the opera.”

“Show us how it’s done,” Henry teased, and Wai-Mae moved with serpentine grace through the grass, rippling the sleeves of her gown as if she were spring coming to life.

“That’s beautiful,” Louis said. “I never seen anything like it. Not even at the balls in the Quarter.”

“If only women could perform,” Wai-Mae said, coming to sit beside Ling again.

“Women can’t perform in Chinese opera?” Henry asked.

“Oh, no! It’s only for men.”

“Even the female roles?”

“Yes.”