The Dagger Men: A Novel of the Clay Shamus Read online

  He paused on the planks and stared ahead. “Okay.” He breathed in cold night air and nodded in the direction of the park. “Let’s rescue my father.” Then he started down the pier, flanked by Clay and Zipporah. They walked inside, passed the empty Elephantine Hotel, and entered Sheol. Clay stayed close to Harvey, ready to protect him.

  The Dagger Men had transformed the place into a physical cautionary tale—a temple to all the ferocious pagan gods that they hated and feared. The oversized wooden statues of those gods, hastily cobbled together with torn up planks and old park decorations, loomed up over the visitors by the booths on the midway and the food stands. The gods looked like nightmares, oversized animals in seated positions, painted in garish red, black, and gold. Torches rested in their hands, shining over the amusement park. The Dagger Men had built effigies of modern gods as well. An oversized dollar sign leaned against the fairy floss stand, the green paint poorly applied and the nails visible. Emerald light from the torches kept shadows dancing. It made Clay think of some odd pagan temple, a place which didn’t belong in the modern world. He hated to see Palisade Park like this.

  “That’s Moloch.” Harvey pointed to a large brass bull. “And that’s Dagon, over there—the fishy fellow.” He turned to his friends. “The Dagger Men must want to take their worshippers through this place, and point to all the abandoned gods. I guess they’ll keep idolaters here too, to show them off to visitors.” He stepped carefully over a knobby plank in the docks. “But we’ll put things back to normal once we get rid of the Dagger Men, right?

  “Keep your voice down, child,” Zipporah hissed. “We are not alone.”

  They neared the first set of golems—which had been made from pieces of Palisade Pier. Brightly colored wood and the planks from the dock had been smashed and assembled into the shapes of men. Nails connected some of the wooden planks and decorations, but oftentimes their pieces adhered thanks to magic alone. One golem had the wooden face of a laughing seal, while another bore the painted face of a clown. They stood still, their arms swaying idly in the wind. Clay pointed to some booths, and they crept behind those to avoid the golems. Harvey’s spell might protect them, but there was no need to reveal themselves and test it.

  After working their way around the golems, a few more steps brought them to the next section of the pier—where Professor West had kept his trained animals. A set of wheeled cages rested on the worn planks, with animals kept inside. Clay looked at the cages, where the animals sat sadly behind iron bars, and then his eyes fell on the cage containing monkeys and apes. He tapped Zipporah’s shoulder and pointed. She nodded too, and they hurried across the pier to the monkey cage.

  Harvey ran after them. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Did you guys see something or—” Then he realized who was in the cage and broke into a run. “Papa! Uncle Herbert!” He covered his mouth, preventing an outcry, but still ran to the cage. Clay and Zipporah joined him. They reached the cage, where the Dagger Men kept their prisoners.

  Rabbi Holtz, Herbert Holtz, and Professor West sat in the corner of the cage, sharing it with a half-dozen monkeys of various breeds, a slumbering sloth, and a single, tired orangutan. They had been keeping away from the animals, trying to put as much space between them and the simians as possible, but when Harvey appeared, they hurried straight to the front of the cage. Rabbi Holtz reached his hands through the bars. He grasped Harvey’s arms and shoulders. Harvey returned the gesture, and they hugged through the iron bars. Herbert hurried over, and clutched Harvey’s hand. For a while, none of them said anything.

  The rabbi spoke first. His voice shook. “I’m so sorry, Harvey. My son, my boychick, my wonderful little boy—you should never have to see your father like this.” He had a dark bruise on his cheek, and one of the lenses of his spectacles had been shattered. His tie had come undone, and stubble crusted his cheeks. “You should never have to face such danger.”

  “You’re okay, though?” That was the first thing Harvey wanted to know. His voice cracked and tears grew in his eyes. “You’re not hurt?”

  “Only our pride, my boy.” Professor West waved at the monkeys in the corner. “You see our current status, I suppose, and our new companions.” He had lost his coat, bowtie, and top hat, and his eyes seemed sad and tired, one bordered with puckered black flesh. “The Dagger Men hauled us in here immediately and have not provided any food. The smell alone is dreadful. I think I will need to shower for a year once I get out.”

  “Agreed.” Herbert kept his hand on Harvey’s thin shoulder. “What about you, Harvey? How are you doing?” He noticed Clay and Zipporah for the first time. “Do you really think it was wise to bring him here, when there’s so much danger?”

  “We needed him,” Zipporah said. “And we’ve always kept him safe.”

  “I trust them, Herbert.” Rabbi Holtz faced Clay. “I trust you, Clay. What’s been happening to our city? What about Sapphire and Detective Flynn? And has the outside world done anything, or are we on our own?”

  “We’re massing in Chinatown,” Clay explained. “We’ll move against the Dagger Men. The US Army wants in as well, and maybe we can coordinate an assault.”

  “Chinatown?” Herbert asked. “Is Bethany—”

  “Miss Hark protected us, Uncle Herbert,” Harvey said. “She’s fine.”

  Clay walked around the cage, until he came to the back, where a lock fixed the swinging door to the bars. “Don’t worry, sir. We’ll stop this. We might need your help, though.” He gave the lock a punch. Iron snapped and the lock fell away. Clay wrenched the door open. “Come on out.”

  Rabbi Holtz helped Professor West out first. The owner of Palisade Park moved with a limp. “My help?” Rabbi Holtz asked. “Why, exactly?”

  “It’s the Dagger Men, papa,” Harvey said. “They’ve turned the city into a golem, by inscribing holy words on the Founding Stone. I think we can remove one letter and destroy the golem—but it might end up destroying the whole city as well. I don’t know if I could do it myself, either. I’m not a rabbi. But you are, sir. You’re a great rabbi. You probably know how to do all kinds of things, and you can transform Sickle City from a golem to a normal town again.”

  “Harvey...” Rabbi Holtz stepped gingerly from the cage to the planks of the pier. “I should tell you.” He closed his eyes. Harvey walked in front of him. “I’m not a rabbi. I never attended a day of rabbinical school. I learned some Hebrew from Chaim, who attended Yeshiva, but that’s all. I received a license through bribery, once Prohibition began, so I could brew alcohol for speakeasies. I can’t stop a golem any more than I could give you lessons on the Talmud.”

  Harvey stared quietly at his father. “But I’ve heard your sermons, sir. You’re so wise.”

  “I look in holy books for inspiration,” Rabbi Holtz explained. “I make the rest of it up. Occasionally on the spot.” He rested a hand on the bars of his former cage. “That’s why the Dagger Men locked me up here. They see me as a fraud—because I am.” He glanced back at Herbert. “You knew that already, of course. You’ve used that knowledge to poison your insults.”

  “I was a fool.” Herbert walked to the door. He stared at Harvey. “It doesn’t matter if your father didn’t go to some fancy rabbinic school, or if he became a rabbi for the wrong reasons. He gave you a safe childhood. He puts me through college. He’s protected Haven Street, time and time again, and he gave himself up to the Dagger Men so that innocents would be protected. He’s the best rabbi that Haven Street’s ever had.”

  Rabbi Holtz looked at them through his cracked spectacles. “You think so?”

  “Absolutely, sir,” Zipporah agreed.

  “Without a doubt!” Professor West added.

  “Yes,” Clay said.

  Harvey smiled at his father. “Herbert’s right. You’re the best rabbi Haven Street’s ever had.”

  “Now, let�
�s get back to Chinatown and—” Hebert moved out of the cage, but his boot landed on a monkey’s tail. The monkey bounced in the air, releasing a keening shriek. Herbert tripped and fell from the cage, into his brother’s arms. Other monkeys took up the cries of their compatriot. The orangutan started to hoot as well, adding another layer of sound. The cries of the apes echoed across the pier, the brightly painted buildings, and the wooden gods. The other animals in their cages, including a roaring tiger, bellowed out and increased the volume. The two wooden golems spun around and stared straight at the animal cages. Harvey’s spell didn’t matter now. They had been spotted.

  Clay thought quickly. “Stick together. We’ve got to get out.”

  “Get to the back of the Pachyderm,” Professor West said. “There’s a ladder leading to a smaller dock, by the water. I keep a motorboat there, in case I need to make a rapid escape. This seems like a suitable time to use it.” He closed the cage door. “But we need to hurry.”

  The wooden golems sauntered toward them. Behind the golems, a column of Roman skeletons charged down the docks. Clay and Zipporah hurried up to meet them and buy time for their friends. Clay ran ahead first and smashed into the skeletons. He moved at a charge, using his momentum to push the skeletons aside while his arms wheeled and delivered powerful punches to their ribs and skulls. Shattered bone flew as he battled them. Zipporah joined him, slashing at the skeletons with both blades. A wooden golem, the one with the painted clown’s face, advanced on her, smashing aside Romans as it approached. Zipporah leapt over a smashed skeleton and aimed a stab at the golem’s forehead. She slashed the letters above the clown face. The golem crumbled into a tide of splintered wood, and Zipporah danced out of the way.

  Rabbi Holtz and the others weaved around the group of skeletons, ducking behind the booths in the midway for cover. Clay watched them hurrying along—and then a squad of Romans split off and gave chase. They hurried between the booths, their short blades shining at their sides. They would catch up to Harvey, his father, and uncle, and Professor West, and destroy them. Clay struggled to disentangle himself from the battle. He elbowed aside skeletons, rammed his way past a pair of Romans, and then broke into a run. Zipporah joined him and they raced after their friends.

  They darted between the midway booths, right behind the attacking skeletons. Rabbi Holtz noticed his skeletal pursuers. “Come on, boychick.” He grabbed Harvey’s hand. “Over here.” He hauled the boy up. Herbert helped him. They scrambled into the nearest booth—a baseball game. Professor West leapt in as well, his gangly limbs flailing.

  The Holtz brothers popped up behind the counter. Herbert had a bundle of baseballs under his arm. “You remember baseball in the alley, Herman?” He chucked a ball at the nearest skeleton. The ball bounced against rusted steel and cracked bone. The skeleton stumbled back. “I always imagined I’d impress you by striking out the neighborhood champion. I wanted you to be proud of me.” Herbert’s next baseball rammed into the open mouth of a skeletal legionary, snapping open the Roman’s jaws. Herbert hurled more baseballs, and they held the legionaries back—but not for long.

  Rabbi Holtz grabbed the baseball bat and raised it as the legionaries reached him. “I remember, Herbert. And I was always proud of you. I still am.” He brought the bat down on the first legionary in an overhead strike. Rusted metal rang out as the bat struck it. Rabbi Holtz swung the bat again, and it crashed into the skull with enough force to rip it from the skeletal Roman’s neck. The skull flew through the air, struck the pier, and rolled out of sight. Rabbi Holtz met the next skeletons with similar powerful blows, while Herbert hurled more baseballs. They kept the skeletons away, protecting Harvey while Professor West unlocked the back door of the booth. Then a well-timed strike with a gladius hit the bat. Ancient steel sheared through modern wood, and the bat hit the ground in pieces. The legionaries moved to attack again.

  Clay and Zipporah reached the crowd of skeletons first. Clay rammed his fist into the back of a skeleton, smashing apart a number of ribs, and wrenched the pilum from the Roman’s hand. He wielded the pilum as a blunt weapon, crashing it against skeletons until the slim spear shattered. Zipporah used both her scimitars to remove the remaining skeletons. They finished off the rabbi’s attackers in a few quick strikes.

  Professor West kicked the back door of the booth open. “This way!” He guided Harvey out through the back, and hurried down the pier. Rabbi Holtz and Herbert darted out of the booth, and Clay and Zipporah ran around to join them. They hurried past the remaining midway booths, under the pillars supporting the roller coaster, and neared the dark shape of the Elephantine Hotel. Professor West’s secret escape lay dead ahead.

  Then the remaining wooden golem reared out from behind the Ferris wheel. It reached down with splintery hands, grasping madly. Its fingers caught Clay’s arms and dragged him back. Clay struggled to free himself, raining blows onto the wooden golem’s chest. Splinters flew, but the golem wouldn’t release its hold. The big seal face loomed closer, its smile strange compared to the strength in its limbs. The wooden golem prepared a powerful punch, aiming it at Clay’s forehead.

  “Mr. Clay!” Harvey pulled away from Professor West, and ran back to help.

  Zipporah reached the wooden golem first. She sheathed one sword, grabbed the lower rung of the Ferris wheel to pull herself up, and then leapt into the air. Her remaining scimitar shone in the moonlight. She brought it down on the wooden golem’s head—a single strike that crossed out the holy letters carved into its forehead. The golem collapsed, nearly burying Clay in wooden planks. He pushed them aside with a few kicks.

  “Come on,” Zipporah ordered. “Almost there.”

  They raced to the Elephantine Hotel, and then moved along the back to the edge of the pier. Clay shimmied along with the others, until they reached a ladder leading down into darkness. Water splashed below them as the ocean rolled in. Harvey took the ladder first, and then Rabbi Holtz and Herbert worked their way down. Zipporah and Professor West followed. Clay went last. He gripped the rungs and descended, staring up at the giant wooden elephant that had been his home. A creaking ran through his body, as the shadows around the Elephantine Hotel moved. The elephant’s trunk had started to sway. The painted eyes moved as well, following Clay’s progress.

  Clay froze. Had the Elephantine Hotel become a golem as well? No, that wasn’t it—the whole city was a golem, and the Elephantine Hotel was merely a part of the city. But why wasn’t it attacking? The Dagger Men controlled Sickle City, and yet the Elephantine Hotel watched placidly as Clay stood still on the ladder. He couldn’t figure it out.

  “Come on, Clay!” Zipporah cried. “We ain’t got all night!”

  The mystery would have to wait. Clay lowered himself down to a small quay, built into the pillars of the larger dock. A little motorboat waited, already overcrowded. Clay made it into the back of the boat, and then Professor West started the engine. They sped out from under the docks and shot into the ocean ahead. Clay looked back at Palisade Park, and then at Haven Street as they zoomed by. Torchlight bloomed brightly as Roman skeletons and lumbering golems darted about like bees in a disturbed hive, all mindless energy without any sort of command. A few bonfires blazed, adding to the light. The Dagger Men wouldn’t be happy at their escape. For the moment, Clay didn’t care.

  ~~~

  The motorboat brought them to the Cut, and that took them back to Chinatown and the Benevolent Merchantman’s Association. Some Shadow Brothers Tong hatchetmen spotted them in the alley and led them through the back entrance of a recently abandoned laundry, which had a tunnel leading to the Benevolent Merchantman’s Association. The place had been turned into a fortress. Armed guards stood in each window, aiming their rifles at the street below. Dr. Cutte had worked his charms on the street outside, tying bags of gris-gris to the branches of some flowering trees and statues, which would prevent the Dagger Men from getting close enough
to attack. The door had been boarded up, and the windows removed in case Sickle City’s new defenders needed a gunfight.

  They made it back a little before dawn. Rabbi Holtz had Harvey and Herbert headed straight to the guest quarters to get some sleep. Harvey protested a little, but Herbert insisted and helped his nephew along. They could get some much needed rest before the sun rose. Zipporah went to the casino below, where she could pass out on a velvet couch, and Professor West insisted on a bath. Clay was the only one who needed neither sleep nor cleaning. He went up to the roof, to look at the city again through his binoculars.

  He checked Arcadia Park, examining the temple, the centerpiece of the Dagger Men’s Second Jerusalem, and found that they had added more to the frame. Slave labor must be going round the clock to create that temple, and it would be finished very soon. Clay lowered the binoculars when he heard the flap of wings. Hermes the pigeon settled onto the railing, cocked his head, and emitted a gentle coo. Clay picked up the pigeon and examined the note on his leg.

  He could almost imagine hearing the gruff voice of Colonel Menelaus Montgomery Rook, his former commanding officer, when he read the tiny printed words on the scrap of paper: grand to hear from you, Clay. Happy to know that a real soldier is in that mess. Still trying to arrange everything for an aerial incursion. Expect zeppelins to play a large part. Will consider landing in Arcadia Park, to time with the attack of you and your allies. Should be a wondrous battle—perhaps the Marathon I have longed for. I will speak to you soon. That was all the message said.