"You may touch suit," said the guard. "Do not tell others. They may not touch suit."
The guard reached his arm into Ripper's cell. X shook his head as he watched. He was not in the least surprised when Ripper bit the man.
"You are monster!" cried the Russian, pulling his arm back and inspecting his cherry-red sleeve for rips. "You have teeth of animal!"
Still, he lingered at her cell another half hour. X had nearly exploded with frustration when he heard Banger whisper.
"Come to the bars," he said. "Fast."
X did as he was instructed.
"One, two-three," said Banger.
He thrust the coat through the bars. X grabbed for it and pulled it into his cell.
"Zoe rocks," said Banger. "She said she loves you, and I said you love her, et cetera, et cetera. It's all good in the 'hood." He paused. "There's a candy bar for you in the pocket."
"How can I thank you?" said X.
"It's just a candy bar, dude," said Banger.
"You mistake my meaning," said X. "How can I thank you for being a true friend to me-when I was never much of a friend to you?"
The words must have meant something to Banger, for he was silent awhile.
"Ain't no thang," he said.
"You are wrong," said X. "It is very much a thang."
A thought occurred to him.
He took off the purple shirt with the curly white stitching. He folded it carefully, smoothing out the creases as best he could. It was a garish object, yet he had seen Banger covet it.
X crouched down by the bars.
"One, two-three," he said.
He passed the shirt to Banger. He could hear him giggling as he slipped it on.
"Dude," said Banger. "I look friggin' hot in this."
By the time the Russian lumbered away, Banger had fallen into a deep, animal sleep, exhausted by his adventures in the Overworld. X sat against the wall, the overcoat spread over his lap. It was wet from Banger's fall into the river. Still, when X pressed his face against it, he could detect the faintest scent of Zoe's skin. It went through him like a flame.
Thanks to Jonah, X actually knew what a candy bar was, and, looking for relief from his thoughts, he slipped a hand into one of the coat pockets.
Instead of candy, he found a piece of paper.
Both sides were covered with markings he could not identify. The mystery of what it said was unbearable. Maybe it was a message from Zoe?
He asked Ripper if she was awake. He spoke just loudly enough to ensure that he would wake her if she wasn't.
"I am always awake," said Ripper. "Surely you know that by now? My brain is like a fireworks factory."
"Might you read something to me?" said X. "Something I have discovered in my coat?"
"Pass it to me," said Ripper. "Quickly. That ridiculous Russian will soon be back for another bite."
X maneuvered the paper through the bars. He listened as Ripper unfolded it, his heart racing.
"It is a list of some kind," she announced at last. "Is this the hand of your blurting girl? Heavens, she scrawls like an unschooled child. She is incapable of spelling 'raisins'-and her fondness for the capital Y borders on the terrifying."
She studied the paper further.
"Wait," she said. "The writing on the other side is not nearly so maddening."
"Read it out to me?" said X.
Ripper cleared her throat, and began:
Dear X: Here is a letter for you. You're probably thinking that (a) I have no way of sending it and (b) you don't know how to read anyway. So, yeah, this isn't a totally practical letter. I get it. Can we move on now, please? I have to get these words out of my brain-they're killing me. I don't care if they never go farther than this piece of paper. Maybe that will help. Anyway, here's the main thing I want to say (I'm taking a superdeep breath-picture me taking a superdeep breath, okay?) … The minute you left, I realized I loved you. Crap, I'm already running out of paper. I should have written smaller.
Ripper broke off suddenly.
"I must say, she is a very unconventional correspondent," she said.
"Is there no more?" said X desperately.
"Yes, yes, there's more, my lovesick boy," said Ripper. "Restrain yourself."
She continued:
The minute I wake up now, my thoughts go straight to you, like gravity pulled them there. You tried so hard not to take Stan. You trusted me when I said it was wrong. Watching you suffer for what was right was the first thing that made me love you, I think. Then there were a ton of other things that I don't have enough paper for. I hate your sadness, X-even more than I hate my own. When you come back (please come back), let's get rid of our sadness, okay? When you come back (please, please come back), let's bury our sadness under 15 feet of snow. Love, Zoe.
X said nothing. Zoe's words faded into the air, and he leaned forward, listening hard, as if he could pull them back into being.
"Would you read it again?" he said.
"Of course," said Ripper, "for even I think it is lovely in its way. But might I ask how many times you shall require me to read it?"
"Until it is fixed in my memory-and I can speak every word back to you," he said.
After a dozen readings, X finally let Ripper rest. She returned the paper to him, and withdrew to the back of her cell, complaining about the state of her throat. X ran his fingers over the letter, trying to connect the markings on the paper with the words he had memorized. He taught himself "love" and "Zoe," as well as "superdeep" and "crap."
Then he sat for hours holding the paper and the coat. He wondered when Regent would send him for the final soul. He wondered if he could survive the terrible wait.
He whispered to Ripper that Regent had told him his true name.
Ripper did not answer immediately.
"Do not even tell me what it is," she said. "He is a lunatic for having revealed it."
"I will never tell a soul," said X.
The churning of his brain finally tired him. Sleep hit him so unexpectedly that he dropped off while sitting against the wall and balancing Zoe's letter on his palm as if it were made of glass.
He dreamed he was back in the lords' giant chamber. It was empty. He had snuck in. The marble steps gleamed, the river rushed overhead. He had only seconds to do what he needed to do. He strode to the wall where the map of the Lowlands was embedded in the marble like some massive fossil. He searched for clues about where his parents were held. He ran his fingers along the symbols. There were too many-and he could not decipher them. The rock began to burn under his touch. He was not supposed to be there. The map knew that, somehow. His face was hit with a wave of heat.
When X wrenched himself from the dream, he found that the dark bruises on his cheeks were burning, and that Regent had come with the name of the 16th soul.
X was startled to see the lord in his cell. How long had he been there? Why hadn't he woken him? What reason could there be for delaying, even by a moment, his final hunt?
X rubbed the sleep from his eyes, but that only made the pain worse. He took a breath to steady himself. He looked up again at Regent, and saw that his face was heavy with sorrow. Something was wrong. The certainty of it hit X's heart like a hammer.
Regent didn't speak, didn't move. He just regarded X miserably, his dark, muscular arms hanging at his side, as if the blood were draining out of him. Nothing about the moment was ordinary. Nothing was right. X wanted to ask Regent what he meant by his silence, but his brain was so frantic now that it could not build a simple sentence.
X began to stand, desperate to break the stillness of the cell. Regent, moving for the first time, like a statue suddenly coming to life, shook his head and gestured for X to lie on his back. X should have been relieved that the ritual was about to begin-that the moment he could touch Zoe again was finally drawing nearer, that something like life would finally unfold. Instead, he lay down as if into a grave.
Regent knelt beside him. He opened his right hand. X could see the lines that ran like rivers through his palm. He closed his eyes and waited for the hand to descend. It did not. After a moment, X opened his eyes again. He stared up at the lord questioningly. He did not think he could bear another moment.
At last, Regent spoke.
"The Lowlands require another soul for its collection," he began, as he always did. "He is an evil man-unrepentant and unpunished."
Instead of going on, Regent paused and another maddening silence filled the cell. When he spoke again, he departed from the ritual's ancient text.
X had never heard a lord sound so wounded and raw.
"This name," said Regent, "is not of my choosing."
X opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out the lord had plunged down his hand. The name entered X's blood.
The name was Leo Wrigley.
It meant nothing to X.
But then Leo's story hit X's veins, and X howled like an animal at the shock of it.
He tried to push Regent away, flailing for his arms, his neck, anything. Regent stared down, his eyes full of pity. He tightened his grip on X's face until the bones threatened to snap-and pinned him to the ground.
Suddenly, X was on a rocky beach somewhere, his brain black with pain and rage. He began stumbling along the water's edge. The winds blew cold at his back. The tide, foaming and gray, swarmed over his boots.