Death's Academy (15 page)

I dash for the intersection and the crossing signal button. I jab the button. Dash, dash, hold, dash, hold, dash, dash, hold, hold. Nothing happens. No flashing lights, no voice, nothing. I use the code again … nothing. Something is terribly wrong.

I turn to the two hounds, who are watching me uninterestedly. “We’ve got to go to the Lock.”

I untangle the steel chains and set the red handlebars upright on the Hound-ariot. I give the command and blow the whistle. Street names fly by as we gallop toward downtown. The skyscrapers that encircle the Lock are bathed in smoke. A flickering glow reflects off of their windows. The Lock is on fire.

We take another corner, and between the cracks of two buildings I catch my first glimpse of distant flames dancing atop the Lock’s roof. My hands begin to sweat and my heart starts to race.

“This is bad. Slow down slowly!” I say and blow the whistle.

I can tell that the wiener dog and poodle are disappointed that they can’t stop on a dime and send me hurtling through the air again, but they do as they are told and gradually slow down to a trot.

Just ahead of us, there’s an opening to a shadowed alley.

“Turn right at the alley!” I command and blow the whistle.

We swerve and plunge into the darkness. We zigzag through alleys and back roads between buildings until we are only a few blocks from the Lock.

“Stop,” I whisper and blow the whistle. We glide to a stop next to a foul-smelling dumpster. The two hounds can hardly contain themselves; they’re yipping and jumping at the chance to plunge themselves into the garbage.

“Be quiet and lie down,” I say and sound the whistle.

The two hounds flop onto their bellies, but their tails are whipping back and forth like windshield wipers in a hurricane.

“Stay here.”

I peer up and down the gloomy alley. Pools of light cast by yellowed lamps dot the narrow road ahead of me. I scurry forward and press myself up against one of the brick-walled buildings. I creep along the wall, dodging the pools of light, sticking to the darkness. There’s a distant collision of sound, a jumbled mixture of crackling fire, voices, and unicorn hooves hammering against the pavement. The noise grows with each step I take.

I reach a fork in the alleyway, an intersection that shorty garbage trucks use to maneuver through the maze of buildings. I drop to my stomach and crawl to the edge of the wall. I look both ways, but there isn’t a soul to be seen.

Above me, the fire illuminates the tops of the buildings. I wait a few more seconds, not only to make sure there aren’t any unicorns but also to build up the courage to move my legs.

“Come on, move,” I whisper. “You gotta keep going.”

My entire body feels as if it has been dipped in hardening cement. A thought flickers across my mind. A wonderful thought, one that my entire essence agrees with.

You’re not even a shrouded hoodie yet. Just go home and let the professionals handle this.

Trailing only moments behind this thought, an image of Mal flashes in my memory.

You sent her to the park.

The stinging accusation pricks my conscience, and
I force my muscles to move. I get to my feet and slide around the corner. I dart across the narrow road and press my body up against the other building. I follow it for another thirty yards until I reach another intersection. I extend my neck out, allowing just my left eye to peek down the road. Nothing.

I take a measured step around the corner.
Whack
! Two hooves have driven into my back just above my shoulder blades. I plunge forward, crashing into an aluminum trash can. The clang echoes down the alley as it bounces and skips across the pavement. I groan in pain and scurry to my feet.

Before I’m able to focus, something stark white leaps forward, catches hold of the iron fire escape scaffolding above, and swings its legs toward me. It lets go of the scaffolding and launches its stubby body in my direction. Its hooves catch me in the center of the chest. All the oxygen evacuates out of my lungs in a raspy whistle, and I’m flung backward onto the earth.

I do a complete reverse somersault and end up
facedown on the pavement. I crumple up and grasp my throat—all my wind has been knocked from me. Slowly the air reaches my lungs, and I swallow it up.

A shallow laugh reverberates off the building walls, and a
clack, clack, clack
drums in my ears like a nimble tap dancer walking across a wooden floor. I dare to lift my head.

A three-foot-tall unicorn stares down at me. Two pudgy legs hold up his narrow torso. His swishing tail drags slightly against the road. He has a glimmering white mane that drapes across his back and the front of his face like a bad case of junior high bangs. A row of rose-colored bows highlight his mane down his back. If I wasn’t in so much pain, I would have a nice long laugh at his expense.

“Get up, little hoodie. Get up. It’s time to play,” he says.

I push myself into a sitting position and massage my chest. I give him a long appraising look.

“You must be the runt of the litter,” I say with a crooked smile.

His sneer transforms into a scowl.

“I’m a Shetland, you stupid hoodie, one of the most lethal unicorns on the planet.”

“And one of the prettiest too. Did your mama unicorn tie those bows for you?” I ask.

His face slightly brightens. “No, I did them myself, but I do agree I am—”

He realizes that I was being sarcastic and pounds his little fist into his other claw.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” he says.

He takes a step toward me, a sinister smile stretching across his face. All of a sudden, there’s a silver flash. Something heavy smacks the unicorn in the face.
Dong
! Upon impact there is an explosion of shorty coins that shower the entire area like tinkling raindrops. The unicorn staggers for a moment and then collapses backward to the earth. He lands spread eagle on the ground, his rose-colored bows strewn all about the pavement.

The object that drilled him in the face spins a couple of times on the ground and then comes to rest. I do a double take. It’s the top of a parking meter. You know, where you shorties stick money to leave your car in a parking spot.

I whip my head around to see who flung the meter at the unicorn’s face, and I see the most startling sight all night. Brilliance Michaels, the golden-haired halo, hobbles from the shadows with her iron skull ball boot clamped to her foot. She jerks her ankle to the side and the boot unfastens. In one smooth moment she flicks her leg like she is kicking a hacky sack and the boot flips into her hands.

“What are
you
doing here?” she asks.

I know she has just asked me a question. I know I should hate her, but the way her hair just swept across her face and the sparkle coming from her sapphire colored eyes have left me in a stupor. I manage to blink.

“I said, what are you doing here?” she asks, peering up and down the alleyway.

“Uh,” I say.

She folds her arms and scrunches her eyebrows.
Wow! Even her eyebrows are amazing! There isn’t a hair out of place, each one a follicle masterpiece.

“Are you one of those dumb hoodie jocks that can’t put a sentence together?”

Ouch.
That one kind of stung. I give my head a shake, and it rattles my tongue free.

“I’m looking for my friend Mal. I think she’s been captured by the unicorns,” I say. “What are you doing here?” Just as I finish my question, a hulking shadow with a spike extending from its skull emerges on the wall behind Brilliance. “Someone’s coming!” I whisper.

We both scurry for the opposite wall and slide around the corner.

“Come on,” she says, and we sprint farther down the narrow road and dive behind a dumpster.

We both peek around its side, but the unicorn doesn’t appear.

“I’m a Michaels, that’s why I’m here,” she says.

I screw up my face and glance over her. “What the heck does that mean?”

She lets out an exasperated sigh like I’ve just asked the stupidest question in the world.

“You know who my father is.”

“No, I don’t,” I lie.

“He’s only one of the greatest halos of all time. Lightcrest Michaels.”

I scratch my head. “Nope, doesn’t ring a bell,” I lie again.

She frowns at me, and I can tell that she has caught on that I’m lying. “I’m here because I’m my father’s daughter, and the Michaels family is known to be a
family of doers, a family of heroes. I saw the smoke from my house, and I saw the emergency signal on the TV, so I came down to see if I could help.” She then straightens herself up to her full height and looks off into the distance. “ ‘When there is trouble, or help is needed, a Michaels will always plunge into the fray without fear or concern for his own safety,’ ” she quotes and then gives me a nod.

The corner of my mouth arches up into a smirk. “Nice saying. Did your dad give you an ice cream cone the first time you were able to repeat it?”

If her eyes could shoot shards of glass, I would be impaled by a thousand razor-sharp pieces.

“My dad is a hero, and if I can be half as brave as he is, I’ll be lucky. I should have let that Shetland unicorn crush your head like a grape,” she says. “They
are
the most lethal of their kind. They like to keep their victim alive for as long as possible. Torture, maim, all of that kind of stuff. He probably would have started with popping off your fingers and toes. They like to wear them around their neck like trophies.”

I gulp and do a quick count on all my fingers and toes. “How do you know so much about unicorns?”

“My dad taught me. He didn’t believe they were extinct.”

I feel a twinge of guilt race up my spine. I lower my eyes and pay close attention to the trash at my feet. “Thank you … for knocking that unicorn out.”

She snorts. “Wouldn’t do it again. So who are you looking for?”

“My best friend, Mal. She was at Larkspur Park and—”

“Larkspur! That’s where the unicorns attacked from! That’s crazy. Why would she have been down there?”

The twinge of guilt turns into a full-on bolt of shame. I bite my lip.

“I think they’ve got her. I hope she’s okay,” I say.

“Wait a second,” Brilliance says, cocking her head to one side and squinting. “Was she the one helping you when you tried to kill me with the car?”

I had an uncomfortable feeling that this was going to come up. “I wasn’t trying to kill you … just knock you unconscious. I messed up the timing. The skull was supposed to stop you from flying out into the street.”

“So
that’s
what whizzed by my face,” she says with her hands firmly clasped onto her hips. “Nice. Real nice.”

I shrug. “Nothing personal. I just didn’t want you to play in the game.”

Clack! Clack! Clack!

Both of us leap farther behind the dumpster. The sound of the unicorn footsteps crosses through a neighboring alleyway and then fades away. We simultaneously exhale in relief.

“Was this Mal wearing a brown sweater with a horrific pattern on the front tonight?”

I scrunch up my brow, trying to remember which sweater she was wearing. “Yeah, I think so.”

“About this tall?” Brilliance holds her hand out just below her chin. “Not very attractive?”

“I don’t know about
that
,” I say, offended on Mal’s behalf.

“All you hoodies are a different shade of ugly. It’s not your fault,” she says.

Now
I’m
offended. “Why? Have you seen her?” I ask earnestly.

Brilliance nods slowly. “Yes …”

Brilliance starts to shake her head. “I only saw her for a couple of seconds. Her hands and feet were bound. A unicorn threw her over his shoulder and carried her into the Lock about an hour ago.”

“So she’s alive!” I say, giving Brilliance a hug in relief. I catch a strong whiff of sunflowers and sea spray.

“Eww, gross,” she squeals and peels me off of her. “You smell like a carpenter’s jock strap!”

I stumble backward and pull my shirt up to smell it. “Like what?”

“You’re all woody and musky; I’m gonna have to take two baths after this,” she says, pulling at her clothes with the tips of her thumb and forefinger. “Anyway, she was alive an hour ago.”