The inside of her father’s room was so spare it was almost empty. Like a prison cell, thought Zoe. While Valentine’s place was stuffed to the rafters with goodies he’d plucked from the city’s overflow, her father’s room held a bed, a table, and a dresser with a vase of plastic roses on top. There was a discolored spot on one wall where a mirror or a picture might have once hung.
A straight-backed wooden chair had been dragged from the table and set before the room’s one window. Every surface in the room seemed to be covered in dust, except for the windowsill in front of the chair. That area was clean. He leans on the sill right here, she thought. He sits here all day and night. This is his real life in Iphigene. Her breath caught in her throat and the stab of grief and loss made her fight back tears. Zoe reached for the rubber band on her wrist but it was gone.
She went back downstairs and found Valentine in the alcove. She told him what she’d found in the room. “He wasn’t there,” she finished.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “There’s another place where he spends some of his nights. Maybe we’ll find him there.”
They took the shortcut to the beach. The route was much quicker, and Zoe could see the reflection of the moon in the sea after just a few minutes of walking.
“Remember, walk slow,” Valentine warned her as they crossed the street to the boardwalk and climbed down to the beach.
The wet sand was heavy on Zoe’s sneakers, but it sparkled like snow under the moon. They were headed for the old amusement park where she’d spent the happy afternoon with her father. Zoe knew that she was getting used to Iphigene because it wasn’t at all surprising to her to see that the park was a wreck, a heap of collapsed timbers and rides that had slipped off their foundations and lay lopsided in the sand. She had to admit, however, that the place still held a kind of sad beauty, like a winter carnival frozen in a blizzard.
People were wandering down onto the beach behind them. Zoe turned in terror and was ready to run from the mob. But Valentine grabbed her shoulders and held her where she was, pointing to the street.
“Look,” he said.
Several buses arrived simultaneously and what looked like a hundred people were suddenly milling around with the dazed look of all the new arrivals. Some people headed to the restaurant or the side streets, but more poured down onto the beach, as if being near the water would wake them from a bad dream. At first they walked. Then they ran, a solid wall of bodies. Zoe was knocked onto her knees and had to scramble to her feet to keep from getting trampled. The crowd carried her along with them, like a tidal wave of grasping hands and running feet. Finally, she worked her way to the side and shouldered her way free of the crowd. The rag around her ankle was loose. She fell and had to crawl onto the tilting turntable of the carousel.
Limping behind the carousel animals, she watched the last of the mob rush down to the sea. She couldn’t see Valentine anywhere. The idea of going back into the crowd was too much. She decided to stay where she was until the beach cleared out. Then she’d sneak out and go back to Valentine’s house.
Someone grunted nearby in the dark. Zoe whirled around and saw a man curled up asleep under the figure of a golden sea serpent. He had on the same shapeless overcoat that almost everyone seemed to wear in Iphigene, and his head was resting on a couple of the stuffed-animal toys that she’d seen scattered all around the abandoned rides. He grunted again and rolled over, facing her.
“Dad?” said Zoe, her voice hoarse from the sand she’d swallowed when she fell.
The sleeping man opened his eyes. They were bloodshot and wet. He was unshaven and his hair was wild, as if he hadn’t brushed it in weeks. Slowly, drunkenly, the man pushed himself into a sitting position. He rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair, pushing it out of his face.
“Dad?” said Zoe, though she was certain who he was this time.
The man turned and looked at her, his red eyes wide and full of fear. He tried to crawl away from her.
“No, no,” he said. “I’m dreaming.”
Zoe crawled after him and grabbed his leg. “Dad, it’s me!” she yelled, and he froze on the spot. His shoulders sagged and he lay facedown where he was. For a moment neither of them moved, then her father sat up. When he looked at her this time, it wasn’t fear she saw in his eyes: it was anger.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he yelled. “Didn’t I tell you not to ever come back?”
Zoe crawled closer to him. “I had to. I did something bad back at home and I thought you needed help.”
“There’s nothing you can do back in the world that will hurt me here.”
“But Emmett had these records and one of them had your soul or something on it. .”
“Yeah, those.” Her father drew up his legs and leaned back against a bench covered with fading images of mermaids. “We all have those, honey. Emmett makes them. Supposedly, if he breaks yours, you’ll disappear, but he’s such a liar, who knows?”
“I was trying to get yours. I tried to trick him. But I think he tricked me.”
“He’s good at that. You’ve got to get out of here as soon as you can. If Hecate finds out about you, well, I don’t want to think about it.”
“I know. Val. . a friend is taking care of me. But I don’t know how I can leave. Do you?”
“No. But there has to be a way. Emmett comes and goes from here to the world all the time.”
“Dad, it’s good to see you.” She moved over and leaned on the bench next to him. After a moment he put his arm around her shoulder.
“You, too. I’m so goddamn angry right now, but it’s still good to see you.”
“Why do you look like this, Dad? Are you sick?”
“Kind of. But it doesn’t have anything to do with what you did back home.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“I don’t know if I believe you. Emmett took your record.”
“Yeah, but not because of what you did,” he said. “He took the record because of what I did.”
“What did you do?”
“It’s not important. All that matters is you getting out of here.” Zoe’s father took her face in his hand and looked hard into her eyes. “You can’t ever come back here. I mean it. If you do, I won’t see you. I won’t talk to you. I won’t acknowledge you. Do you understand me?”
Zoe nodded. “I understand.” It hurt to have him mad at her, but felt good that he still wanted to help.
“Who’s this friend of yours?” he asked.
“Someone I used to know back home.”
“Do you trust him?”
“Yes.”
“Then get to him and find a way out of Iphigene. Nothing else matters.”
“You still haven’t told me why you look like this. Why isn’t the city how I remember?”
Her father started to answer, but was cut off by a strange howl in the distance. It reminded her of a foghorn, but this sound was rougher, darker, more like the deep wail of some wounded animal.
“Oh no,” said Zoe’s father.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. I have to go.” He pulled himself to his feet. Standing, he looked even weaker than he’d been before. It took a few seconds for him to steady himself on his feet. Then he started off across the beach. Other people were walking in the same direction, a few other newcomers, but mostly people Zoe had seen on the streets by the newsstand and bar. Old-timers, she thought. She ran after her father.
“What’s wrong, Dad? What was that sound?”
“Go to your friend and find a way out. I can’t help you.” Zoe grabbed him and his hand closed on her arm so hard it brought tears to her eyes. “Get away from me and stay away! I don’t ever want to see you here again!” He pushed her hard enough that she fell back onto the sand.
Zoe lay there and watched as her father joined a long line of people walking into the dark heart of the city, following the wail that filled the sky.
Nine