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PROLOGUE The Key to Everything
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AT NIGHT, NEW YORK CITY was a dream. No matter how late the hour, no matter how thick the darkness that shrouded the sky was—though never as bad as back home, considering the light from the skyscrapers that remained on twenty-four-seven—there was always activity. Sure, the traffic may not be as bad as it was during the day, where it might take you hours to get out of a jam, but a steady stream of cars still turned down the streets. Stores remained open when they should have long since been closed, making it easy for stragglers to buy a sandwich or a coffee instead of sleeping. The homeless—and there were far too many of them, even with the efforts of the Avengers and F.E.A.S.T to get them off the streets—were slumped over in their makeshift shelters, bundling up in ratty blankets or garbage bags. College students returning home from bars and employees just finishing a late-night shift headed down the sidewalks, keeping a buddy with them to evade the muggers on the prowl. It was a surreal feeling, seeing so much activity when there really should have been none—when there had been none, back at home. And it was even more so when you realized you were partaking, too.
When her new uncle had woken her up at two in the morning, Cecelia had been astonished by all of the sounds occurring outside her window. She wasn't used to the city that never slept. At home—her old home, her real home, the home she'd never return to—come midnight, everything went quiet. All of the lights turned off, too. Going outside at any hour past that meant pure black, with only nocturnal animals to keep you company.
Uncle had told her to get dressed, and Cecelia obliged blearily, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She folded her Hello Kitty pajamas neatly and tucked them under her pillow. It was brand-new, like most of the things in her new house. It hadn't been worn into softness yet.
Now, hair slightly greasy, she stumbled forward, trying not to wince at the way Uncle gripped her arm. She could walk on her own, but apparently, she was too slow for him. So, he'd resorted to holding on tight enough to hurt.
They'd been on the main streets for half an hour, and, to ignore the pain, Cecelia had spent that time marvelling at how big everything was. Every building reached up, up, up, as if attempting to burst through Earth's atmosphere. It made her feel like Alice in Wonderland, downing the bottle labelled Drink Me. It made her feel like Jack in the land full of giants.
Things weren't just big, though. They were also bright. Billboards shone brightly as the Moon, gas station and motel signs flared with neon light, and every car that whizzed by did so with blinding headlights. Cecelia was tempted to ask for sunglasses, but she didn't want to bother Uncle. He seemed like he was in such a hurry.
For what, she still didn't know.
They turned down a quieter street, and things got a little more bearable—at least in terms of activity. It did stink, though—garbage and diesel and cigarette smoke all combined into one horrifying stench that invaded Cecelia's nostrils. She held her breath. Her feet splashed through a puddle, and some of the water sunk into her socks. She winced as the abrupt cold tickled her feet.
