The Metropolis Series #3: Quinn and Cassandra
17. Breaking the Silence

MY EYES GREW WIDE. I heard that right, didn’t I?

“The Author?” I stammered. “As in the Author?”

Julio nodded grimly. “I can only imagine what Cassandra can do with it. I’m on my way to the location to verify the reports. Wanna come along?”

“Definitely,” I said. “Let’s go.”

I buckled up my seat belt as Julio started the engine, and in no time, we were away from St. John’s grounds and driving down a busy road. I thought about how unfair it was. News about the Author should have been amazing. It could be a sign that she had started working on the Metropolis again, and it would just be a matter of time before we’d be saved from all the mess brought by her absence.

However, if Cassandra did steal such information, I imagine that she would be a step closer to achieving her ultimate goal.

“If anything happens to the Author because of Cassandra,” I began, breaking the silence, “would she be closer to destroying the Metropolis?”

“I doubt that the Author exists physically in the Metropolis,” Julio said. “But there’s a possibility that it’s her essence that’s lingering around here. You know how artists back in the day would sneak in self-portraits of themselves in their paintings? It’s just like that. It’s what makes the Metropolis uniquely hers. We’re not sure what that essence would look like, though. We’re not even sure if it’s something real, something organic, but if it were, and Cassandra takes or possesses it…”

Julio didn’t need to finish for me to understand. A scenario played in my head, depicting Cassandra using the Author’s essence to gain ownership of the Metropolis.

And finally destroying it.

“I’m sorry, Quinn,” Julio said. “I’m sorry for pulling you into this.”

“Hey,” I said, reaching for his hand on the gearshift. “We’ve already gone through a lot together, and you’re apologizing now?”

Julio glanced at me before returning his eyes to the road. “Yeah, you’re right. Also, be ready to turn back time, Quinn. Just in case things get ugly.”

I nodded as he removed his hand from the gear shift, retrieving a folded piece of paper on his dashboard and reading the scribbled handwriting on its surface.

“We’re getting close,” he told me.

I didn’t respond. I kept my eyes on the road, wondering where Cassandra had picked up such vital information. What kind of place would even have something like that?

Julio pulled his car into a commercial area, where multiple small shops lined the streets. He checked his surroundings, examining the piece of paper in his hands.

“This is the place,” he said. He unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out of his car. “Let’s go.”

For a second, I didn’t move. I couldn’t believe where I was. The place had been familiar to me for so many reasons, but now, its front window was cracked, and it was dark inside. The place had been decorated for Christmas, too, with wreaths and snowflakes adorning glass surfaces. With the wreckage, it looked like a sad attempt to brighten up the place.

Eventually, I followed Julio out of the car and approached the shop’s front door. An employee from inside rushed toward Julio, his eyes wide and his face beaded with sweat.

“Sir, we’re closed,” he said. “Please come again soon. We’re—”

Then, the employee looked at me. And I looked at him.

“Philip?” I said.

“Quinn?” he gasped. “What are you doing here?”

Julio cleared his throat and turned to Philip. “Excuse me, but I’ve received a report that someone broke in here and stole something.”

Philip nodded. “That’s right. And who are you? You don’t look like the police.”

Julio hesitated. “The police will be of no help here. I’m from the Spanish House. You guys know about us, I suppose.”

Philip grew pale. “Oh. Yeah. Of course. Come in. I’ll tell the owner you’re here.”

He stepped back into the shop—the ice cream parlor, if you will.

Julio and I followed inside, the familiar bell going off as we went through the front door. Two terrified employees stood behind the counter as Philip disappeared behind a door with an AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY sign on it.

“Julio, what’s going on?” I asked. “Why is Philip—”

“He knows,” Julio said.

“About the Metropolis?”

“Yeah. And I’m guessing he’s known for a while…”

“How could that be?” I whispered. “Philip’s a Metropolitan. What if he gets corrupted?”

“I don’t know,” Julio said. “This is new to me, too.”

I nodded, jealous of how calm Julio looked in our situation. I recalled the first time I had been in the ice cream parlor, feeling uneasy as the memories swept past my mind. I had convinced both customers and employees that they could make more out of their lives, leading them to realize that they had never gone anywhere besides the ice cream parlor in such a long time. They were merely set dressing, elements to fill in the Author’s fictional world.

That epiphany had been enough to corrupt them, and Philip had been part of the damage. That might have all happened in a timeline that was long gone, but the events that had occurred in it convinced me to keep quiet. I was going to let Julio do all the talking when Philip came back. Perhaps that could spare us from some unwanted trouble. (Not that we weren’t dealing with it already.)

Julio moved toward the front counter where the other employees stood, their wide eyes watching him as he approached them. When they questioned who he was, he explained that he was from the Spanish House, and just like Philip, they silently nodded.

Did that mean that they knew about the Metropolis, too?

“What are your names?” Julio asked them.

The first employee stepped forward. She was a dark-skinned woman with curly hair and big brown eyes. “I’m Lizzie,” she said. She gestured toward her companion, a scrawny young man with brown hair and hazel eyes. “This is Jason.”

Jason waved nervously at Julio without saying a word.

“While we wait for your co-worker to come back,” Julio began, “can you tell me about what happened here? Someone broke in and stole something, right?”

Lizzie nodded. “Right. At around ten-thirty this morning, someone broke through our window and headed straight for our staff room. Jason went after the perpetrator. He witnessed a young lady steal something and bolt out as quickly as she’d come in. Jason wouldn’t tell me anything else besides that, not even what he saw in there and how the item was stolen. It’s like something broke him.”

Julio looked intently at Jason. “Jason, I’m here to help. So can you tell me what happened in the staff room?”

Jason’s eyes darted around as he fidgeted his fingers. “Uh… I…”

Then, his voice trailed off, and his breathing grew heavy.

Lizzie reached for him. “Jason?”

Jason swatted her hand away. “It’s over,” he screeched. “Don’t you get it? It’s over. She stole it, and I let her steal it. I didn’t get to stop her. It’s hopeless. THE AUTHOR WILL ABANDON US ALL!”

His words hung in the air, and in a blink of an eye, his screaming turned into a growl. He ran his fingers through his hair as his nails turned into talons. Leathery wings ripped through his uniform and grew out of his shoulder blades.

And when he looked up, his eyes were red.

Julio shielded me with his arm as Lizzie screamed.

“Stand back,” he said.

Jason lunged as Julio held him off with his bare hands. His sneakers skidded on the polished wood as the monster threatened to knock him over, cowering over him with his strength.

Julio turned to me, his face beaded with sweat. “Get the vial!”

“What vial?” I asked.

“In my back pocket. Splash it on the monster’s face.”

I did as he said and retrieved a vial from the back pocket of his jeans. It felt cold; the moment the glass met my fingers, I immediately knew what it was.

“Hurry,” Julio groaned.

I tried to twist off the cap. It wouldn’t budge. “I can’t open it!”

“Oh for God’s sake—”

Julio couldn’t hold Jason off any longer. Jason pushed him out of the way and came charging at me. With sheer luck, the cap twisted free from the vial, and I splashed its contents onto Jason’s face. He winced, coughing on the liquid before collapsing on the floor.

I just stood there, catching my breath as I held the half-empty vial in my hands. I watched as Jason slowly regained his human features. I sighed with relief as Julio stood beside me, assessing the situation.

“Right on time,” Julio said. “We sure were lucky.”

“Yeah.” That was all I could say. “Lucky…”

Lizzie stepped out of the front counter and slowly approached Jason, whose face was planted on the floor.

“What did you do to him?” she asked me.

“Lethe water,” Julio stepped in. “The quick cure for corruption.”

Jason snored loudly, interrupting the conversation.

Julio shrugged. “He’ll be fine. He might forget about the past few hours, though.”

Philip then stepped out of the staff room and gawked at his co-worker on the floor.

“What happened here?” he asked.

“He had another existential crisis,” Lizzie explained. “And he couldn’t handle it.”

“Again?” Philip shook his head. “Mr. Simon’s not going to be happy about that. And he’s already given him so many chances.” He then turned to us. “How did you cure his corruption so quickly?”

I held up Julio’s vial. “With this. Lethe water.”

“That stuff that erases memories? Is it safe to use?”

I gaped at Philip. I was surprised how on point he was about Lethe water. It made me wonder what else he knew about the Metropolis and how long he had known.

“In small amounts, yes.” Julio then looked toward the unconscious Jason. “At best, he’s only going to forget the past couple of hours.”

Philip furrowed his brows. “At best?”

“So, who are you guys, anyway?” Julio then asked. “You’re not Forgotten Ones, are you?”

“Oh no,” Lizzie stepped forward. “We’re Metropolitans, but…” She glanced at Philip. “We’re a little different.”

“I can see that,” I said, the words spilling out of my mouth. That caused Philip to look in my direction, and the expression on his face seemed to be a mix of confusion and utter suspicion.

“It’ll be best if Mr. Simon were to explain all of this instead,” Philip said. “He’s ready to see the both of you now.”

“Who’s Mr. Simon?” I asked. Because of Harumi, I already knew that Mr. Simon was the owner of the ice cream parlor, but there was more to uncover.

Much, much more…

“He runs this place,” Philip simply said. “You’ll see. Follow me.”

Julio and I glanced at each other as Philip stepped back into the door labeled AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

“I’ll go first,” Julio said. “Keep the vial.”

Julio followed Philip as I slipped the vial into the pocket of my skirt. Then, I went through the door of the staff room. At first glance, it looked like a regular pantry and stock room that any food business would have. An industrial rack took up most of the room, stocked with various packaging supplies and kitchenware. A few cleaning items were tucked away in the corner—

And from there, my eyes led me to a gaping hole in the floor, a ladder leading into the darkness.

“What is this?” Julio asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Just follow me,” Philip said. “It’ll be best to see it yourselves.”

His voice was monotonous, but his face looked wary. It was like he was afraid of making a grave mistake, and in those fleeting moments, he might have considered withdrawing from the situation and avoiding it altogether. However, he then began his descent into the darkness, and Julio and I stood there as he disappeared beneath the floorboards.

“If things go wrong,” Julio whispered to me. “You know what to do.”

I nodded as he followed Philip into the darkness. I trailed behind them, and the shoes I chose to wear to St. John’s Christmas party made such a terrible noise with each step down the metal ladder. If I had known that I would be spending the afternoon climbing down into a dark, mysterious room, I wouldn’t have worn heels. (Harumi urged me to. She found them buried deep in the closet, and that was the end of it. My mom had bought them for me, and I rarely wore them.) I simply decided to do Julio a favor and tried my best to not step on his face as I climbed down. Thankfully, we didn’t have to deal with that.

“Woah,” Julio said.

I turned my head, gazing upon a dimly-lit hall with bookshelves lining the walls. The place smelled of dust and mold, but I suppose that was to be expected. Rusty old beams supported the brick walls, and cobwebs hung from the ceiling.

“What is this place?” I asked.

Julio offered a hand, and I took it as I climbed down the last few steps. I felt something furry by my feet. Afraid that it was a rat (because the place looked like it could be infested with rats), I lifted my foot and looked down. I was relieved to see that it was just a stuffed animal, its beady eyes and deformed smile staring right at me. It lay near a pile of all sorts of items that could have belonged to a child: a big brown teddy bear, a box of toys and clothes, and a bright yellow school bag with books spilling out of it.

“This is what sets us apart from regular Metropolitans,” Philip said. “The ice cream parlor is just the front of our job, what we want people to see. Our true mission is to keep this place safe and secure at all costs.”

Julio looked down the room, eyeing the bookshelves that took up most of the space.

“What are these?” he asked Philip. “School projects? Archives?”

“Yes, but not just any archives,” Philip said, his voice low. “What you see here is a collection of drawings and writings—made by none other than the Author…”

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