Death's Academy (13 page)

He squints back at me, examining my eyes. “What are they trying to get?”

“I don’t know, but he said it was hidden there.”

“How do you—” Demien stops short and nods. He turns and points at a nearby Sickle. “Where are the kid’s parents?”

The sickle motions toward the barricade where dozens of hoodies are standing stretching their necks to get a better view.

“I’m sending him home. Go get them,” Demien says.

The Sickle looks back at him quizzically. “But, sir, don’t we need to take him in?”

“Just get his parents, will you?”

The Sickle salutes and heads for the barricades.

“I’m letting you off the hook, Midnight Smith,”
Demien says, and the bands on my wrists dissolve. “Don’t make me regret it.”

I watch Demien walk away, and then I hear a familiar voice.

“Night.”

It’s my mom.

It’s been over twenty-four hours since I got home from the park. As soon as I walked through the front door, I retreated to my bedroom and flopped onto my bed. I’m pretty sure my mom came to my room and yelled at me. I was so tired I can remember only a few choice words and phrases, like “disgrace,” “despicable,” and, my
favorite
, “you’re just like your father.” The last one was quite a low blow and totally unwarranted. I couldn’t muster up any type of response or defense; I just lay there and took the cannonade of verbal abuse and faded off to sleep.

It wasn’t a very sound sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I was transported back to that clearing in the park, but instead of just two unicorns, there were dozens of them creeping out of the trees and darkness. I would try to run, but my legs felt like they had been buried in sand. Before I could get away, a claw would clamp down onto my shoulder and I would be spun around, face to face with Raindrop.

Now for all of you shorties out there thinking that unicorns are beautiful and symbols of kindness—you’ve been brainwashed. They’re not the creatures of love that you’ve been led to believe. There’s nothing beautiful or kind about an eight-hundred-pound unicorn ripping your arms and legs off and using your body as a skipping stone.

From the stories that I’ve read, unicorns are some of the most vicious animals that have ever walked this earth. Not only are they brutal, but they are also fascinated with taking “cute” or “sugary” items and turning them into instruments of death. What do I mean by that? I’ve heard of unicorns using ten-foot-long licorice whips as weapons. When the licorice whip wraps around the victim, it constricts until it cuts right through whatever it is wrapped around. They also use exploding gummy bears. Sounds fun, huh? How about if the bears are five pounds and laced with flesh-burning acid? They throw them like grenades and if the sticky stuff gets onto you … well, you’ll have had better days.

So, as you can imagine, I didn’t have a pleasant sleep. Not only that, but when I woke up I found that
I had a new friend clamped around my ankle. My parents decided that I couldn’t be trusted to be home alone while they were gone to the Reapless. I am now the proud owner of a moderator.

A moderator is usually reserved for little kids during the Reapless. It’s an ankle bracelet that won’t allow you to leave your house unless it detects an emergency. If you try to leave your house and there isn’t a fire or something like that, it freezes all the muscles in your body and you become a statue. It then sends a signal to the monitors, more or less glorified babysitters, who come to pick you up and take you down to the Hopper. The Hopper is like a day care center for hoodies. Only the littlest kids stay at the Hopper during the Reapless. I haven’t had to wear a moderator for five years now.

I tug at it and try to squirm my foot free, but they have locked that sucker on me good and tight. The only way to get it off is to know the secret release code. You have to say it out loud and it will unlock.

I can hear footsteps climbing the staircase. I stop trying to pry the moderator off and dive back onto my bed. My door opens.

“I know you’re awake. I heard you moving around earlier,” my mom says, throwing open my curtains. “Come on, enough of the act. We’re leaving.”

I flip back over and fold my arms.

“What do you want?”

She gives me a blistering look. “Are you sure you want to speak to your mother like that before she’s gone for ten days? What if there’s an accident and I
never come back? How would you like those to be the last words you say to me?”

I roll my eyes. “If I only could be so lucky.”

“Fine. If we aren’t going to be polite to each other, then that’s all right by me. All your meals are freezedried in the pantry. Just add some water. When Roger gets back—”

“Roger isn’t coming back.”

My mom stomps her foot. “When he gets back, feed him his stomach pills. He’s been having horrendous gas.”

I look away. Hearing Roger’s name again causes a lump to form in my throat.

“I’ve informed the Hopper of the situation. If you need anything, you can contact them. I’ve put their information on the fridge,” she says.

I nod.

“Is there anything else you need?” she asks.

I walk over to the window with my back to her. “New parents.”

My mom sighs. “I hope one day you understand why this all happened. I’m going to be honest with you, Night. Right now I don’t like you very much, either, but I will always love you. Be good.”

I don’t answer, and after a few moments I hear her walk out of my room. I glance down at the moderator strapped to my ankle, its little red light flashing up at me, and my scowl deepens.

Okay, so maybe I was a bit of a jerk, but come on, my parents deserve it. First, they won’t help me with the entrance exam to get into Death’s Academy. Second,
they tried to prevent me from playing in the skull ball championship game (which in hindsight might have been better if I hadn’t played). Third, and this is the ringer, they trap me in the house alone for ten days with a full-on unicorn invasion about to happen.

“Night?”

I jump a foot off the ground and let out a scream that’s a few octaves higher than I would care to admit to.

“Dad! I thought you left.”

“About to,” he says and opens his mouth to say something else, then clamps it shut. He fidgets with his ring, spinning it around his finger. “Uh … ” He shuffles his foot like he’s kicking at an anthill. “I wanted to talk to you about something important.”

“Mom already yelled at me. You can leave,” I grumble.

He doesn’t make eye contact but frowns and yanks on his ring a couple more times. Good grief, why won’t he just leave already? I’ve been chewed out enough for a lifetime. I don’t need to hear it from the world’s most disappointing father too.

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened a long time ago,” he says, his eyes still fixated on the floor.

My heart flutters and I take a step toward him. “You mean about the
Queen Suzanne
?” I ask.

He flinches, like the name has lashed him across the back. He runs his hand though his hair and nods. His eyes dart one way and then another, occasionally catching mine and then looking away.

His voice starts out a whisper, just hovering above the silence between us. “I know what it feels like to not be believed. They said I was crazy and I wanted to be famous. I know what I saw. I saw them. I saw the—”

“Obsidian!”

My dad jolts in surprise.

“Obsidian Smith, we are going to be late for the jump off!” Mom’s voice bellows from downstairs.

He turns back around and motions like he is going to say something to me. I take another step toward him, my eyes pleading for him to continue.

He blinks. “I left you a—”

“Obsidian! So help me, if we are late …” my mom says.

He lets out a long sigh, walks out the door, and goes down the stairs. A few moments later, I hear the car start, and I watch as they pull away.

I feel like my head has just been dropped into the washing machine and someone turned it to “super spin.”

I’ve got to talk to Mal.

“He didn’t say. But I’m sure he was talking about what happened with the
Queen Suzanne
.”

Mal rubs her chin with the sleeve of her sweater.

“Maybe.”

“What do you think he was talking about?” I ask.

She shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders. “Got me. You’ll have to ask your dad about it when he—”

“He said he left me something too,” I say and hop onto the dresser next to her. “I searched the entire house top to bottom, but I couldn’t find a thing. Do you think … hey, what’s that smell?”

Mal ducks her head and jumps from the dresser. I take another long sniff.

“Are you wearing perfume?” I ask.

She walks to the other side of the room and fidgets with the curtains. “My mom got it for me. I didn’t want to wear it. I just didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

I grin and nod. “I know how that goes. My mom made me some baby-blue footie pajamas for my birthday last year.”

“What? I’ve never seen them.”

“Dang straight you’ve never seen them. I threw them in the fireplace the same day.”

“What? Didn’t that hurt your mom’s feelings?” Mal asks, a frown on her face.

“Uh …” I stutter. “I don’t know … they were baby blue, Mal. I mean, come on.”

Mal folds her arms and shakes her head. “Sometimes you’re a real jerk, Midnight Smith.”

I have to be honest, that one hurt a little bit. I’m sure you’re sitting there smugly agreeing with Mal, but you didn’t see these pajamas. They were baby blue with a white teddy bear sewn on the chest. True, the teddy bear was rolling a skull, which was kind of cool, but really? It’s hard enough being Midnight Smith without being seen in footie pajamas.

“Mal, I need you to do something for me,” I say.

She snorts and rolls her eyes.

“Mal, please. I need your help.” I walk over to her and place my hand on her shoulder. She shoots me a wary glance.

“Why do I have the feeling I’m about to be part of something I’m going to regret?”

I make a face like she’s hurt my feelings, and
I’m even able to muster up a little moistness around the eyes.

“Give it up. I know you’re faking,” she snaps.

“Fine. But it
is
really important. I would do it myself, but if I take one step out of the house it’s freeze-ville for me and a one-way ticket to the Hopper.”

“Spit it out, Night,” she says and shrugs my hand off her shoulder.

“I need you to be my eyes and ears. Something bad is about to go down, and if we don’t do anything about it, then we could all be in a world of hurt,” I say.

“Is this about the unicorns?” she asks, one eyebrow raised.

I bite my lip and give her a slight nod.

“Night, it’s me. You and I’ve known each other for practically our whole lives. You don’t need to make up any stories to impress me.”

Hearing Mal parrot what the reporters said earlier makes me want to shout some unmentionable words and phrases, but I take the high road.

“Mal, you’re right. You and I have known each other for a long time.” I grab both of her shoulders this time and look directly into her eyes. “I’m not lying. This isn’t a story. They killed Roger, and they’re coming for something in the Lock.”

Mal opens her mouth to speak, but I press on.

“I need you to go to Larkspur Park and hide somewhere. Be my eyes and ears. I would bet my life they’re coming tonight. When you see the unicorns, sound the hoodie alarm. I know it sounds crazy, but I’m telling you the truth. I swear.”

Mal knocks my arm away and heads for the window. She swings one leg out and turns back toward me. “It doesn’t sound crazy, Night. It
is
crazy. There are no such things as unicorns anymore. Everyone knows that.”