Fear Her Wrath II: Crucible of Glass

Chapter 18

The Evening Examiner did run article the next day on the mystery of where Psychosis got the money to hire his goons, but it was relegated to a small corner of page 4. Still, Lovejoy got the byline, and Ellie made sure to point people to it using Nightwrath's social media accounts. We were still whittling away at our list of suspects, but I was starting to suspect that the Nihilist was one of our missing persons—the thirty-or-so survivors of the Penhook Street fire that had vanished completely. That meant I needed to do some field work, and for field work, I needed to get my gear back in working order.

So, as school ended on Friday, I set out to find Emery Rubinstein.

Marbrose Catholic Orphan Asylum was out in the suburbs of West Marbrose, on the other side of the river from Marbrose Island, which itself was west of the Fen. The craggy hills that overlooked the harbor gave a sense of separation from the rest of the city, which was why those members of the upper crust that found Hayes Avenue a little too close to the unwashed masses took refuge in its shaded avenues and stately Gilded Age manors. To me, however, as a lifelong city-dweller, the gnarled woods and rugged hills of West Marbrose felt almost wild. This was the closest thing I had ever seen to countryside, and I took in every sight and smell as the bus rambled down a narrow lane towards my destination.

The orphanage itself was just as dour and Victorian as I expected, with long, gloomy windows and moldering stone walls covered in vines. The grounds included a greenhouse, a prayer chapel, and small vegetable garden, as well as an overgrown cemetery filled mostly with victims of the Spanish flu pandemic a century ago. About a stone's throw behind the main building, I could see a smaller, even more dilapidated structure that once housed a hospital for unwed mothers—Marbrose City's "daughters of guilt and sorrow." Simon had apparently volunteered at this depressing place for two summers with the CYO, which was how he met Emery. That was about all I knew—other than that Simon wouldn't have pointed me to her unless she actually knew what she was doing.

"I'm here to visit Emery Rubinstein," I said, trying to act more confident than I felt. The middle-aged nun at the front desk passed me a visitor's book, which I signed as "Amy Moody."

"Miss Emery's room is at the end of the hall in the east wing," she said brusquely. "Be sure to knock before you enter. Visiting hours end at 6 o'clock sharp. No exceptions."

That gave me about forty-five minutes, which I hoped would be enough. The nun led me to a long hallway lined with doors, but didn't seem intent on accompanying me the rest of the way. A tall gothic window at the far end provided the only source of light, illuminating the dust that lingered lazily in the air. The whole place was weirdly quiet, and my footsteps seemed to echo deafeningly against the closed doors and drab, peeling wallpaper. After what seemed like ages, I reached a door at the end of the hall that had Emery's name taped on a piece of cardstock paper. After a moment's hesitation, I knocked.

"Come in."

It was a high and nasally voice, with a slight snippiness to it—like an adult preparing to deal with a difficult child. I opened the door cautiously, and stepping into the narrow dorm room, I got my first look at Emery Rubinstein.

She was thin, and pale, with bobbed black hair and a pointed face. She wore a plain, cream colored dress over her T-shirt and jeans, which was my first clue that she was a little unusual. She was stretched out on the window sill, reading a battered old copy of The Wizard of Oz with her fingertips. A pair of round glasses with dark lenses sat on a table just next to her elbow. Despite inviting me into her bedroom, she gave no other sign of acknowledging my presence.

"Um... hi," I began. "I'm..."

"Did Mallory send you?" said the blind girl curtly.

That was not the question I'd expected for openers. I looked around to make sure she was actually talking to me, but we were definitely alone. For some reason, The fact that Emery seemed to know exactly why I was there wasn't very comforting.