“I can’t stay here for a year,” I whispered.
“How about six months. The election will be completely over by then.”
“I can’t.” I would not cry in front of Charles Delacroix. “I just can’t.”
“In exchange, I can promise you that no one will bother with your little sister, if that’s your concern.”
“Are you threatening me?” I asked.
“Not threatening, bargaining. We’re bargaining here, Anya. Don’t forget, I do have legitimate reasons for returning you to Liberty. Chocolate possession. Caffeine consumption. Curfew infraction.”
I felt like a trapped animal.
I was a trapped animal.
I wanted to talk to Mr. Kipling although, on some level, I knew he couldn’t protect me from this. I had been unlucky, yes, but I had also been incredibly foolish. “The election is over the second week of November. Why not let me out at Christmas? That’s three months.”
Charles Delacroix considered my offer. “Let’s say four. The end of January has a nicer ring to it. It could have the appearance of impropriety if you’re out the month after the election.”
I nodded. Charles Delacroix reached his hand through the bars, and after a moment, I shook it. My wrist felt incredibly sore, and I winced.
Charles Delacroix rose. “I’m sorry about this. I’ll make sure you aren’t sent down here again. I only wanted to ensure we were able to speak to each other without being observed.”
“Thank you,” I said weakly. But I knew he was lying. Sending me to the Cellar had been a very specific form of intimidation.
He was about to leave when he turned and kneeled down so that we were face-to-face. “Anya,” he whispered, “why couldn’t you have just made both our lives easier and disappeared for a year? Visited your relatives in Russia? I know you have friends in Japan. A girl like you probably has friends in all the kingdoms of the world.”
“New York is my home, and I wanted to finish high school,” I said lamely.
“Your lawyer should never have let you go back to Trinity.”
“Mr. Kipling didn’t want me to. Everything that happened, I caused myself. I should have been more vigilant.”
“Not the bus accident,” Delacroix said. “That was just unlucky. For both of us, I mean.”
“And especially for that girl who was killed.”
“Yes, you are right, Anya. Especially for her. Her name was Elizabeth.” Charles Delacroix reached through the bars to touch my cheek. “This place is run atrociously. There are holes. If you happen to slip down one in a week or two, I doubt you would be missed.”
“You’re trying to scare me.”
“The opposite, Anya. I’m trying to help you.”
I was beginning to see his meaning. “How would I ever come back?”
He stood up, taking his thermos with him. “You have a friend who is going to be the new district attorney in New York. A friend who thinks that the prohibition laws are incredibly wrongheaded and have done nothing but ruin lives. A friend who remembers that you did save his son’s life. A friend who will be better able to help you once this blasted campaign is over.”
“We are not friends, Mr. Delacroix.”
Charles Delacroix shrugged. “At the moment, perhaps not. But when you have lived as long as I have, you become comfortable with the notion that last year’s enemy may be this year’s friend. The reverse is true, too. Good night, Anya Balanchine. Be well.”
About fifteen minutes after Charles Delacroix had left, a guard arrived to lead me to the intake room. Even though it was nearly three in the morning, Mrs. Cobrawick and Dr. Henchen were waiting for me. “I am sorry to see you back here, Anya,” Mrs. Cobrawick said. “But I can’t say that I am surprised.”
Mrs. Cobrawick looked at my file on her slate. “My, my, my. Multiple parole violations. You were a very busy girl. Caffeine consumption, curfew infraction, and chocolatiering.”
I said nothing.
“Won’t you ever learn to follow the straight and narrow?”
Still, I said nothing. I was so very tired. I thought I might collapse.
“We may as well get started. Anya, please remove your clothes for decontamination,” Mrs. Cobrawick ordered. She turned to Dr. Henchen and said, “I fear these cannot be salvaged. They are so covered in filth.”
I bent down to take off my skirt. As I was bending, I felt a strange pain in my chest and then I fell to the floor, banging my head on the tiles. My abdominal muscles convulsed wildly and I threw up. Dr. Henchen ran to my side. “Her heart is racing and she’s turning blue. We need to get her to the clinic.”
The next thing I knew, I was on a gurney being wheeled across Liberty Island to the medical area. I had never been there before but it was surprisingly clean and modern-looking compared to the rest of the place. A doctor cut off my Trinity uniform, and then they put sensors on my naked chest. I did not even bother to feel embarrassed. And then, for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I passed out.
When I awoke the next morning, I tried to sit up, but my wrist was handcuffed to the bed rail.
A doctor came into the room. “Good morning, Anya. How are you feeling?”
I considered the question. “Sore. Exhausted. But overall, not that bad.”
“Good, good. You had a heart episode last night.”
“Like a heart attack?”
“Almost, but much more minor. There isn’t anything wrong with your heart. You had an allergic reaction. It could have been something you ate, or it’s possible that someone slipped you something, though luckily it wasn’t in a quantity high enough to kill you. We won’t know any of this for sure until the toxicology reports come back. The cause could be as simple as stress. I imagine you have been under some stress lately.”
I nodded.
“But in case it is something more serious, you’ll need to stay here for at least the next several days, for monitoring.”
“I was given a sedative early Saturday morning by the guards at Liberty. Could it have been that?”
The doctor shook his head. “I doubt it—the timeline really wouldn’t make sense—though that’s good to know. So, rest up, Ms. Balanchine, and take it easy. You have several visitors in the hallway who are dying to see you. If it’s all right with you, I’m going to tell them they can come in now.”
I sat up in bed as best I could and adjusted my hospital gown so that all my important bits were covered.
Mr. Kipling, Simon Green, Scarlet, Imogen, and Natty came into the room. They had been told the official story—that I had broken the terms of my release with those petty crimes. As was to be expected, Natty cried a little and Scarlet cried a lot, and then I asked everyone except Mr. Kipling and Simon Green to leave. After I had relayed the highlights of my conversation with Charles Delacroix to them, Simon Green sighed, and Mr. Kipling stood up and banged his fist on the table.
“That makes a lot more sense, though. I wondered why they were bothering you about coffee and curfew,” Simon Green said. “So, what do you want to do, Anya?”
“I think I should leave New York.” I decided this as I was saying it.
“Are you sure?” Mr. Kipling asked.
“I can’t stay at Liberty. Who knows how long it will suit Charles Delacroix to leave me here. He’s saying January now, but I don’t trust him anymore. Not to mention, I don’t know if I’ll survive it. Someone may have tried to poison me last night. I have to go. There is no other way.”
Mr. Kipling nodded to Simon Green. “Then we will help you come up with a plan.”
Simon Green lowered his voice. “In my opinion, our best chance for getting you out is while you’re still in the hospital. After that, you’ll be too entrenched at Liberty, and we’ll have less access to you.”