ARC: Cracked (19 page)

Ha, no, not exactly. I shake my head.

Chi mulls it over, but he likes it. It’s the kind of dangerous and heroic plan that appeals to him. Finally he concedes, as does Uri, predictably.

“So, Meda. Tell us what you know,” Jo says and they all turn to me.

I think about it. “I don’t really know much. Mom and I moved a great deal, from city apartment to city apartment. She worked a lot of crap jobs and I was homeschooled.”

“Did she have any friends?” Jo asks. “Anyone she spent a lot of time with? Who might know something?”

I shake my head. “She didn’t have many friends.” I tap my chin. “
Any
friends, actually, now that I think about it.” That didn’t strike me as weird at the time. After all, I didn’t have any, either. I wasn’t allowed to mingle with other people, although Mom planned on letting me start. At fifteen, I was starting to gain pretty good control over my… darker impulses. But it didn’t occur to me to wonder why she didn’t have any friends. Or why we moved so often.

It seems stupid now, all the questions I didn’t ask her.

They look unimpressed by the amount of information I have to offer.

“And you said she was murdered?” Jo asks and I nod. “And you were the one who found her?”

The memory makes my mouth dry. I nod and take a sip of water before answering. “We were living in London
`
at the time. In a basement flat. She was… torn apart. Nothing was stolen.” Images flash before my eyes. Red pools, staring brown eyes, her hand in mine. And the rage that nearly brought our apartment building crumbling down. Someone places a hand on my fist. Jo.

“It does sound like a demon. They break their… prey open to eat their souls,” she says gently. As if I didn’t know.

“What have you done since then?” Chi asks, changing the subject.

“Not much.” Talked to ghosts, murdered bad guys. “Traveled around, took a few jobs to get by.” Stole money off my victims. Got myself thrown into insane asylums. “Just drifted.” I smile. “Nothing Nobel-inspiring, unfortunately.” Now is the time to make my proposal. “I think I know where we should start our search.” I pull out the picture of my mom and Luke and slide it on to the table so they can see. “Judging from my mom’s shrine, this guy knew her better than anyone.” Then I add, to sweeten the pot, “And I don’t know who my father is.” I know enough to know it isn’t this guy, but I let them draw their own conclusions.

Jo doesn’t recognize him and looks to Chi.

“Luke Bergeron. He doesn’t come back to base much. Not married, no kids, so just stays in the field.”

“Where in the field?” Jo asks, but no one answers. “So how do we find him?” She sits back and taps her plate with her fork in thought.

Uri’s eyes are narrowed and his tongue peeps out of the corner of his mouth as he thinks. “The Sarge would know where he’s assigned.”

“I don’t think we can call the school. They’re either still fighting or evacuating with everyone else.” Or dead, but Jo doesn’t say it. “Besides, even if we could get hold of her, it would just get us an escort to Wisconsin.”

“Anyone on the Council would know.” Chi this time.

“But how would we get in touch with them?” Jo.

“Don’t they have cell phones?” Me.

“Don’t need them – they use magic,” Chi explains. “Magic we won’t have until we’re Crusaders.”

“Don’t your parents ever call?”

“Yes, but they call my room.”

“Like a landline?” It occurs to me that none of the Templar teens suffer from the strange growth on their hands that garden-variety teens do. “You guys don’t have cell phones? Really?”

Chi says, “Vow of poverty, remember?”

“I hadn’t noticed you toting one around,” Jo remarks.

No vow here, just poverty. And no one to call.

“How do you call your parents then?” I ask.

“I don’t,” Chi says. “It’s too dangerous for them to keep a phone. Instead, I ask a Crusader to let my parents know to call me. They get back to me as soon as they can.”

Uri nods along, but Jo looks away. As with me, parents, or lack thereof, is a sore subject.

“So we need to find a senior Templar who will help us contact Luke,” I say.

Jo answers. “Back at the battle are the only ones I know of, but by now the school is probably evacuated, and they’ll be gone.” Or dead. But again she doesn’t say it.

“So that leaves us stuck with Wisconsin. The only place we’re sure to find Templars,” Uri sums up, crestfallen.

“Let me guess, they don’t have a phone,” I say and Jo answers.

“Oh, they do.” Thank God, a break. “But we don’t know the number and it’s not the kind of place that’s listed.”

I slam my head on the table.

Uri jerks his head up. “Wait!” We all look at him. “The Sarge keeps a spreadsheet of all the known Beacons and who’s assigned to guard them. I worked in her office last summer. We don’t need her; we just need that spreadsheet.”

“Uri, that’s brilliant!” A rare compliment from Jo. Uri hops up and down in his excitement, making the vinyl bench squeak. “If we know who Luke is guarding, we know how to find him.”

“So where’s the spreadsheet?” I ask, praying the obvious answer is wrong.

“On The Sarge’s computer. It’s password-protected, but I know the password.” He grins triumphantly. I hate to spoil Uri’s moment, so I don’t point out the obvious problem.

The Sarge’s computer is back at the school – which is currently a war zone.

THIRTEEN

A daring, death-defying quest to retrieve the Holy Spreadsheet from a battlefield of Good versus Evil, this sounds like a job for…

Someone else.

Fortunately, I picked up a pack of self-sacrificing lunatics who see no problem with that. Even better, they don’t want me to go with them. I’m too valuable. The discussion goes something like this:

Asinine solo plan where I risk it all to save the planet! Chi.

Rude comment. Jo.

Fake attempt to be included in dangerous mission. Me.

Slightly less asinine plan involving the two of us. Uri.

Rude comment. Almost-sane plan using Chi and me. Jo.

Overprotective response. Chi.

Reeaaally rude comment! Jo.

Cringe-worthy comment about Jo’s leg. Chi.

Head explodes. Near homicide. Jo.

Life-saving intervention ending the debate and getting everyone to agree to Jo’s plan. Me.

And the crowd goes wild!

That last bit might be a slight exaggeration. But I do get them to agree that Jo’s plan makes the most sense. Chi and Jo misspent most of their delinquent youth breaking out of the school then sneaking back in and, if there is an attack, two are better than one. Hopefully, by the time they drive the two hours back to the school, the battle will be over. Who has control of the school is the biggest question – since death is worse than detention, they’d rather it be the Templars.

Uri is disappointed not to be included, but his ego (and mine) gets a boost when Chi explains that someone has to protect the priceless cargo.

It’s after eleven by the time we finish planning and leave the restaurant. I assume we’re going to dine-and-dash, which is worrisome since the waitress looks mean and wiry, but fortunately there’s cash stuffed in each supply pack. It was how we bought the clothes, if I’d been paying any attention. Uri and I are stashed in a cheap motel with the important task of sleeping. It’s the kind of division of labor I can really get behind.

The motel is pretty awful, but we’re limited to the kind of place that will rent to teenagers. It was new in the ‘50s and since then there has only been a half-hearted attempt at upkeep and a heartless attempt at decorating. The wallpaper is peeling; the bathroom is moldy. The two queens are covered in teal and pink floral bedspreads pilled more than any addict. No TV. And the smell… I’m not cruel enough to describe it.

Chi and Jo come in with us and our packs are reorganized. They contain flares, flashlights, thermal sheets (like a big sheet of aluminum foil for trapping body heat if you are caught in the cold), rope, knives, power bars, a map of the mountains, $500 in cash and a 9 mm handgun. No good for demons, but they aren’t the only bad guys out there.

Chi fumbles with his packs and I feel his eyes on me periodically. He’s stalling for some reason.

Jo grabs her pack to head out and turns to Chi. “Ready?”

“Uh yeah, just a minute.” He looks around. “I gotta go to the bathroom.” He’s a terrible liar. He’s up to something. “You go on out – Uri, will you start the bike for her?”

And the two of us are alone. I must be that something.

The instant the door closes my suspicions are confirmed. He turns to me, his blue eyes intense and the words come out quick. “Look, Meda, I know you’re not as defenseless as you seem.”

Crap, maybe he’s not as stupid as
he
seems. It must be because of the bodies at the school. I tense to spring, to run, but hold still. In the pregnant pause lies are born in my head, woven by clever spiders to be spun from my mouth.

But he surprises me. “Will you look after Uri for me? He’s tough, but he’s just a kid. And don’t tell him I asked.” His mouth kicks up in a half-smile. “It’d hurt his feelings.”

No, he really is that stupid.

An engine roars to life outside. Jo’s waiting for him. I’m confused but I don’t relax. He knows I’m hiding something but he asks me to babysit?

“Why?”

“Because I trust you.”

Mystified, the word comes out unbidden, “Why?”

He shrugs. “I’d rather risk wrongly trusting you and dying, than to wrongly distrust you and turn my back on someone who needs my help.” He didn’t even have to think about it.

Chi might be an idiot, but it’s a heroic kind of idiocy.

“Chi!” Jo shouts impatiently from outside. “If I’d known it was a number two, I wouldn’t be wasting gas!”

She’s a classy girl.

“Well?” Chi asks me.

“Sure.”

“Thanks,” he says, then grabs his pack and ducks out of the door. He climbs on in front of Jo and they’re off.

It’s a two-hour drive back to the school, probably an hour or so to sneak in and out, then two hours back. They leave us just before midnight with plans to be back by 5am.

If they aren’t back by 6, we are to go to Wisconsin.

Uri and I take turns showering. Uri bought sweats for everyone, so I put on a pair and another black T-shirt. I think the only women’s underwear Uri’s familiar with is his mom’s because he supplied Jo and me with panties in the parachute style. I don’t tease him though – it probably took more courage for him to buy girls’ undies than to sneak out of the school during the demon siege.

It’s been a hectic couple of days with only a few hours of sleep in the last forty-eight. I lie on the grungy queen I’m to share with Jo, but sleep doesn’t come. Instead I count bugs, like sheep, except these are real. Then I search for shapes in the water stains on the ceiling. I hear a huff from Uri. He’s not sleeping either. The glowing red numbers of the clock are too bright: they tinge everything with blood. 12.15. Five hours and forty-five minutes left to go.

I lie there until they reach 12.45, then give up.

“Uri – you asleep?” I know he isn’t.

“No.”

“Wanna get some air?”

It’s like I offered the kid a lifeline. “
Yes
.”

We pull on hoodies, sneakers and, in Uri’s case, his weapons, and slip outside, locking the door behind us. We’re still in the mountains, so it’s cold, and our breath comes out in small clouds. Uri has his hands fisted in his pockets, probably more so he can hold his weapons than to keep his hands warm. He takes his role as bodyguard adorably seriously, an earnest Labrador puppy guarding a wolf.

The Mountain View Motel is backed up against a steep drop to a river and shares a parking lot with a mom-and-pop gas station, which is closed this time of night. At some point someone must have tried to make the hotel more tourist-friendly and built a children’s play area. It’s right next to the river cliff so either the owner was stupid or hated children. It’s mostly rotten, but the swings seem sturdy enough to sit on, though I won’t risk more than a tentative sway.

I decide to point out the elephant in the room, but I give it a clown hat to make it funny. “Twenty bucks says Jo kills Chi before the demons get a chance.”

It works and a slow smile stretches across Uri’s face. “Naw, she wouldn’t kill him.” He settles on to a swing next to mine.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I say. “Then she wouldn’t have a ride.”

Uri laughs. “She wouldn’t anyway.”

“She would. I’m pretty sure she hates him.” When she isn’t lusting after him.

“They don’t hate each other, they’ve just hurt each other.” Not what I expect from a thirteen-year-old kid. I raise my eyebrows. “What?” he says defensively, “You can’t hate someone you’d be willing to die for.”

“Tell me, O Sensei, how did you get so wise?”

He blushes. “My mom explained that to me when I, ah,” he looks down and his hair flops in his face, “was mad at her.”

Ah, I get it. He shouldn’t be embarrassed though. I don’t think you can consider yourself a teenager unless you scream “I hate you” at your parents at least once. At least not a proper one. I change the subject. “So, tell me about Beacons.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, are they saints?”

He cocks his head and looks at me. “Are
you
a saint?”

“Do you think I’m a Beacon?”

He nods instantly. “Yes.”

“Why?”

He thinks about it, his big puppy-dog brown eyes studying me carefully. “You’re special.”

“How do you know I’m not special-bad?” Shut up, Meda.

“I prayed about it. God says you’re good.”

“He does?”

“Yup.”

Sounds like I’m not the only one with a pair of flaming britches. The Lord himself has a pair. “Well, then, I can safely say that Beacons are not saints,” I say and Uri laughs. He kicks off but the play set sways ominously, so he stops.

“Saints probably are Beacons, though,” Uri says. “But Beacons can be anyone. It could be a scientist who cures cancer, or a foster parent who raises a lot of damaged kids. Sometimes we’ll watch a person for their whole lifetime and never figure out what it is they did.”