Chapter 4 - The Vanishing Child
The storm hit Manhattan three days later.
The wind screamed against the heavy glass windows of the Blackwood estate, throwing sheets of icy rain against the stone walls. Power lines across the county were down, and the mansion had switched to its backup generators, which hummed with a low, vibrating growl deep in the basement.
Ethan and I were in the grand library.
He was sitting on the floor, his legs stretched out, playing with a set of wooden blocks Maxwell had bought him. His face had gained some color, and the dark circles under his eyes were fading, but he still didn't like to be more than a few feet away from me.
"Look, Lily," Ethan said, pointing to a tall tower of blocks he had built. "It’s a castle. You live in the tower, and I’m the guard at the gate."
"Castles get knocked down," I said quietly, sitting with my knees pulled to my chest on a velvet sofa. "You need an escape tunnel. Always have an escape tunnel."
Ethan looked at me, his eyes wide and curious. "Did you have an escape tunnel under the bridge?"
"I had three," I told him. "One led to the subway, one led to the street, and one was just a hole behind some trash cans. If someone came with a stick or a knife, you didn't fight. You just disappeared."
Suddenly, the lights flickered.
The low hum of the generator groaned, then died.
The library was instantly plunged into near-total darkness, save for the pale, gray light of the storm filtering through the massive windows.
"Dad?" Ethan called out, his voice instantly tightening with panic. "Dad, where are you?"
"He's in the study with Harrison," I said, my street instincts instantly kicking in. I slipped off the sofa, my bare feet silent on the Persian rug. The air felt different. The house was too quiet. The soft patter of the guards' boots in the hallway had stopped.
Something is wrong.
A sudden, sharp pop echoed from the front courtyard. It sounded like firecrackers, but I knew better. On the avenues, that sound meant people were shooting.
"Ethan, get down," I whispered, rushing over to him.
"What's happening?" he whimpered, his eyes reflecting the pale light of the window.
"The bad people are here," I said, my voice steady despite the absolute terror clawing at my throat. "We have to go. Now."
"I can't run, Lily!" he cried, looking down at his legs.
"I know. But I can carry you."
I was seven, and Ethan was my age, but the streets had made me strong. I knelt down, wrapping my arms around his waist, and pulled him onto my back. He was light—far too light from months of neglect under Jennifer's watch. He wrapped his arms around my neck, his hot tears wetting my shoulder.
"Where do we go?" he whispered.
"The library has a big fireplace," I said, looking toward the massive stone hearth at the end of the room. "And behind the woodpile, there’s a small door for the wood delivery. I saw the housekeeper use it yesterday. It leads to the servant's stairs."
I stumbled under his weight, but I forced my legs to move. We reached the fireplace just as the heavy oak doors of the library were violently kicked open.
Two men in black tactical gear stepped into the room. They didn't look like police. They had masks over their faces and carried short, dark weapons. Their flashlights cut through the darkness, scanning the room.
"The boy’s not here," one of them growled, his voice muffled by his mask. "Check the corners. The Senator wants them secured before the local cops can respond to the silent alarm. We have five minutes."
I squeezed myself and Ethan behind the large, decorative woodpile inside the massive hearth. My hand found the small iron latch of the delivery door. It was cold and stiff.
I pulled. It didn't budge.
"I hear something," the second man said, his flashlight beam sweeping closer and closer to the fireplace.
My heart was beating so hard I was sure they could hear it. I spit on my hand, grabbing the rusty latch again, and put all my weight into it.
Click.
The small door swung open, revealing a dark, narrow stone chute meant for logs.
"Go, Ethan," I whispered, pushing him through first. "Slide down. It's not far."
Ethan didn't hesitate. He wiggled through the opening, his body disappearing into the dark.
As I went to follow, my foot slipped on a loose piece of coal. The sound of wood shifting echoed through the quiet library.
"Hey! Over there!"
The flashlight beam hit my face, blinding me.
I didn't think. I scrambled backward into the chute, my fingers clawing at the cold stone. A hand reached through the opening, grabbing the ankle of my sweatpants.
"I got her!" the man yelled, pulling hard.
I kicked back with my free foot, my heel striking his masked face. He grunted, his grip loosening just enough for me to yank my leg free. I tumbled down the dark, soot-filled chute, landing hard on a pile of soft pine logs at the bottom.
"Lily!" Ethan’s voice cried out in the darkness of the basement.
"I'm here," I gasped, my shoulder throbbing with a sharp, burning pain. I stood up, grabbing his hand. The basement was massive, filled with old boilers and dusty storage crates. "We have to keep moving. They know where we are."
Behind us, we could hear the heavy thud of the men dropping down the chute.
"This way," I whispered, dragging Ethan behind a massive iron furnace.
But as we turned the corner, we ran straight into a tall figure standing in the shadows.
I raised my fists, ready to fight, ready to die to protect the only boy who had ever held my hand.
"Lily? Ethan?"
The figure stepped into the pale beam of a backup emergency light.
It was Maxwell. He was holding a heavy iron poker from his study, his white shirt stained with blood, his face covered in sweat. Behind him were three of his estate security guards, their weapons drawn.
"Dad!" Ethan cried, letting go of my hand and throwing himself into his father's arms.
Maxwell fell to his knees, clutching his son, his chest heaving. "Thank God. Thank God."
He looked up at me, his eyes wide as he saw the soot on my face and the blood dripping from my scraped elbow.
May you like
"They were in the library," I whispered, my knees finally giving out. I collapsed onto the cold concrete floor. "I... I used the escape tunnel."
Maxwell stared at me, a mixture of profound awe and heartbreak on his face. He reached out, pulling me into the embrace alongside Ethan, wrapping his massive, warm arms around both of us as the sound of police sirens began to wail outside, piercing through the storm.
