Against the far wall were thick pipes that thrust deeper into
the Underground and ran up to the ceiling of the tunnel. They branched off there, some follow-ing the
tunnel both ways and some going straight up through the ceiling toward the surface. Others, however,
turned and vanished into a crawl space atop the platform wall, no doubt once having carried water or power
into other tunnels and stations from here. Many of the pipes had large wheel valves, but it was the ladder
that mattered.
She gave Cadge a push and they ran for it together.
As they climbed onto the platform, the men rounded the bend in the tunnel.
"Where d'you think you're going?" one of them called, and then laughed.
As the laugh died out, Jazz heard another sound. Cadge had reached the ladder ahead of her, but he
turned and stared back down the tunnel —not at the men but beyond them, as though he could see the
source of the distant shriek that came whistling up the tunnel, building in volume.
"Fuck me blind," Cadge whispered.
The BMW man reached the platform first and leaped up onto it. He lunged at Jazz. She turned and
squared off, letting him come, and then swung her leg to kick him in the balls. He was ready for the attack,
as she'd figured he would be. It had been a feint.
She drove her fingers into his eyes.
He screamed, reached for his face, and Cadge slammed a shoulder into him, knocking him off the
platform. The others tried to catch him, but the BMW man slipped through their hands and hit the ground.
"Jesus, my eye!" he cried. "It's bleeding. Bitch popped my eye!"
The words were a shout of fury and pain; otherwise, Jazz would never have been able to hear them
—not over the shrieking wind that came hurtling along the tunnel. The howling noise grew louder. To her
ears it sounded like a train derailing and the terrified screams of the passengers, all merged into an infernal
chorus.
The Hour of Screams.
A hundred rats ran along the tunnel, all in the same direc-tions, ignoring the humans and seeking
darkness once again.
"Jazz, a song!" Cadge shouted, his lips right beside her ear.
Her hair whipped past her face. The wind buffeted her, and now she saw that it had spectral texture.
She nodded and huddled with him at the base of the ladder. Jazz clapped her hands against her ears to
block out as much of the noise as she could. The banshee wail of the Hour of Screams grew louder, grating
on her mind, stripping away her thoughts.
Harry had said to pick a song but hadn't elaborated much. Jazz knew it had to be something that she
felt in her heart, that meant something to her, or she wouldn't be able to concentrate on it. But as she tried
to focus, tried to choose, the Hour of Screams grew so loud she could barely think, and nothing came to
mind. Snatches of lyrics, but she couldn't think how any of those songs went.
The stars, she thought. Something about the stars.
And then she had it, a song she could never forget, a melody that would never leave her.
Are the stars out tonight?
I don't know if it's cloudy or bright.
I only have eyes for you, dear.
Jazz sang the words softly at first and then louder, defiantly. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, but
she felt Cadge at her side, huddled against her. Fear cradled her and she sur-rendered to it. Her sanctuary
had been shattered. Her blood would soon stain the Underground, and the vanishing that had begun the day
of her mother's murder would be com-plete.
The Hour of Screams bore down upon them. Jazz shook, breath hitching in her chest. Things slipped
past her that might have been gusts of wind but were not. They caressed her, and she knew these were not
ghosts like the phantoms she had encountered before.
"I only have eyes for you," she sang.
Beside her, Cadge shouted as though to drive the screams away and then began singing louder. She
forced her-self to open her eyes against the buffeting winds to make cer-tain he was all right. Cadge had
his own eyes screwed shut and hands clamped over his ears. His lips moved along with a song, but over her
own singing and the howling of the Hour of Screams, Jazz couldn't make out the words or the tune.
Motion on the tracks caught her eye. She looked and saw the men crumbling to their knees. Ethereal
shapes whipped around them, darting in close and then drawing back, pulsing in the air. The men beat their
arms uselessly against the wind. Their eyes were
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