Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins (25 page)

D
r. Brockman’s flight arrived at 10:45 a.m. Nathan couldn’t
get off work, so Maggie skipped school and made the two hour drive
to the airport. It was 10:57 when she got to the baggage claim,
where they’d agreed to meet. Doc was there waiting.

“Boodle!” he exclaimed, when he spotted her
rushing toward the luggage carousel. He sped over, picked her up
and swung her around in a circle. “How is it that you’re even more
gorgeous than you were last time?”

“You always ask me that, Doc,” she grinned,
and kissed him on the cheek.

“Well, stop getting more gorgeous then,” he
scolded, as he grabbed his suitcase from the carousel with a
jerk.

They walked arm and arm to the parking
garage, climbed into Nathan and Maggie's old silver sedan, and
embarked on the long drive back to Glenhill.

Their conversation started in the standard
way—Doc asking if she had gotten a boyfriend in the last two weeks
and when her dad was going to stop living like a monk and find a
nice lady; Maggie telling him that there would never be any
prospects for her in Glenhill, and to forget her dad. He was never
going to find a nice lady. He wasn't even looking! It was a
conversation that took place at least once every time they were
together. It would always end with Doc saying, “I just care about
you guys. I want you to be happy.”—A phrase that Maggie would
mockingly mouth along with him as he said it.

They'd just finished their little dating
chat when Maggie asked, “How weird is it that both of our houses
got broken into?”

Doc became noticeably uneasy. “It’s really
weird, Boo. You okay though?”

Maggie shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno. I
thought I was, but I still had to sleep in Dad’s room last
night.”

“Yeah,” he answered, “I haven’t been
sleeping lately myself. I’ve been really worried about you guys. I
wish I could have gotten back here sooner, but I was needed at the
hospital.”

“So, I’ve been wondering. How did you know
that they were coming to our house after yours?” Maggie tried. “Dad
wouldn’t tell me. He said it would freak me out.”

Dr. Brockman shook his head. “Then what
makes you think I’m going to tell you?”

Maggie smiled and batted her eyelashes.
“Because you know I’m a big girl and that I can handle it . . . and
because someone promised that he wouldn’t ever keep secrets from
me.”

“Oh there it is . . . just go ahead and
throw that one up in my face again,” he shook his head and
grudgingly relented. “Fine. Here’s what happened.

“I’d just gotten off work
and ran home to change before going to the gym. When I got to the
house, the front door was open. At first I thought maybe the
housekeeper had forgotten to shut it, but then I heard voices.
There were at least two men . . . talking. They were saying
‘
it wasn't here
’
and ‘
it
has to be with the others
.’
I had no idea what they were talking
about.”

Maggie listened intently as he
continued.

“One of them said
‘
He gave it to the girl,
the one with black hair and blue eyes'
,
and then he asked the other guy if
they should
'
go
to Iowa and get it'
. That's all I heard
before I realized they were coming toward the door. I ran to my
car, and headed straight for the police station; I called you guys
on my way there.”

Now, he seemed to be talking to himself.
“They must have . . . It’s the only way they could’ve gotten there
so fast.”

“But why would a couple of creeps break into
houses in two different states to steal a little statue of a
strange fairy-looking thing? It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know, Boo. I can’t figure it out either,”
Doc replied.

“And why did they have to take my
hiding-seeker? I was completely bummed out. I loved her.” She
tilted her head gently onto Doc’s shoulder.

He smiled and told her to watch the
road.

“Remember that dopey story
you told me when you gave her to me,” she sniggered, “about how you
met her in your
enchanted
garden?”

Doc shook his head, “I almost had you. You
totally believed that she was good luck!”

“Never!” Maggie insisted,
“I just
acted
like I believed you. You wouldn't give her to me unless I
said I believed.”

“Well,” he began, “what if I told you that
it was all the truth. That I really do have an enchanted garden,
and that I was walking through it one day and bumped right into
her, and that she hit me over the head with a big blue rose and
told me to get out of her house?” He grinned ear to ear.

“I'd say I need to hook you up with
Bridgette's mom,” Maggie smirked. Bridgette was the daughter of
quite a famous psychologist who had authored a series of
best-selling, self-help books.

Dr. Brockman glared at her with his deep
green eyes. “Very funny, Boodle. I swear no imagination whatsoever!
Okay, so I got her at the flea market,” he admitted, “but that’s
kind of like an enchanted garden.”

Maggie giggled. “I'll miss my little Hidey
though. She's always been there for me.”

“I'll see if I can find you another one,”
Doc soothed, “maybe for your birthday tomorrow, ya know . . . to go
along with your island.”

It was early afternoon
when they arrived back at the house and they were greeted by a
huge—bordering on obnoxious—hand-drawn banner framed by red and
gold balloons sprawling from one end of the white wooden front
porch to the other. The very colorful “HAPPY
17
^TH
BIRTHDAY, SMAGGS!” message simply screamed
Bridgette.

“Oh my gosh,” Maggie groaned. “What is she
doing?”

Doc chuckled. “Looks like we’re having a
party.”

Just then, Bridgette and three other girls
burst out onto the porch. Bridgette waved gregariously and bounded
over to the car. “We couldn’t wait ‘til tomorrow,” she squealed,
“ditched World History and Anatomy!”

“Anatomy’s important,” Dr. Brockman scolded
playfully as he pulled his duffle bag from the back seat. “How are
you ever going to take over my practice if you flunk out,
Bridge?”

“Uhhh . . . .” she breathed, gazing
longingly at the man who had just made her weak simply by speaking
to her.

Doc smiled and decided to give her an even
bigger thrill. As he walked past, he leaned over and kissed her on
the cheek. “Just teasing,” he whispered, and continued into the
house.

Bridgette’s face was as red as the balloons
on the banner. She tried to talk, but all that came out was a
pathetic, mousy squeak.

Maggie shook her head and
grabbed a hold of Bridgette’s arm. “Come on, Bubbles. The party’s
waiting,” she urged, and then added, “Man, I’d hate to see how
you’d act if you
did
think he was cute.”

The weekend was a whirlwind of fun, compared
to most weekends in Glenhill. After the party, Nathan treated
everyone to a barbeque in their back yard and, in honor of her
birthday; he even let Maggie out of her office cleaning duties for
the next day. She and Doc spent most of Saturday birthday shopping
at the Glenhill Galleria, where he spoiled her mercilessly, and
then on Sunday, she and Bridgette hung out and watched movies after
attending church services in a neighboring town.

It was nearly ten o’clock Sunday night when
Nathan left to take Dr. Brockman to the airport. Maggie changed
into her pajamas and watched a little television in her room before
finally dozing off to sleep.

U
ltara sat emotionless on her tangled throne. Two of her
warriors, Torschel and Linetal, entered the room with their arms
locked around a man who was struggling violently to escape their
grasp. They dragged him across the rough rocks that formed the
bridge and pushed him forcefully onto the floor.

“Ahhh, yes . . . Linden Torak isn’t it?” she
began. “I’ve been told, Master Torak, that you were present at the
battle.” She cut right to the chase. Ultara was in no mood to mess
around.

Linden looked up at her—his face bruised and
bleeding. He snarled angrily, but did not answer.

“Don’t be foolish, Torak.” She looked
directly at his battered face, and a soft golden glow surged from
her eyes. “Ahhhh, so Darian has taught you how to block a mind
penetration . . . very good.”

She rose from the throne and paced back and
forth on the platform in front of Linden. Her black gown billowed
like thick smoke all around her. The long, fiery locks that spilled
over her shoulders and her bright golden eyes were a stark contrast
to the cold, shadowy room. Her confidence, and the exaggerated calm
in her voice, only added to her sublimely intimidating presence.
“Did your dear Darian also teach you that a successful mind block
requires every tiny ounce of strength in your body?”

Linden remained silent and sneering.

The glow in Ultara's eyes began to
intensify, pulsating and surging brighter and brighter until the
room was completely flooded in golden light.

As the glow in her eyes intensified, Linden
began to wince and cringe. After just a few seconds of fighting
with all of his strength, he was overcome. “Aaaaaaarraahh!” he
cried out in agony, his body contorting and twitching
uncontrollably.

Ultara's eyes continued to surge brighter
and brighter as she spoke. “What you are feeling right now, Master
Torak, is an energy jolt equivalent to a bolt of lightning.” She
spoke loudly in order to rise above his screams, but maintained the
eerie calmness in her tone, “Several have felt it; few have
survived.”

The glow in her eyes faded away. She stepped
down from the platform and walked over to where Linden slumped,
reached down, and with unbelievable strength, yanked him to his
feet. He groaned miserably, as she looked him squarely in the eye
and stated matter-of-factly, “Let me explain. You won't have the
strength to keep this up for long. Mind blocks don’t work on the
vritesse. I will be able to read your thoughts. Why suffer more
than necessary?”

Linden glowered at her angrily. He turned
his head slightly to the side and made a sound like he was going to
spit.

Ultara threw him
forcefully to the floor. He landed in a hard thud and screamed out
in pain. “If you do not tell me what you know, Torak, you
will
die.” The light in
her eyes intensified again as she sent another brutal
jolt.

Linden was strong-willed and physically
strong as well, but the strongest of men would not live through
more than two or three of Ultara’s powerful shock waves.

Finally, Linden succumbed and broke his
silence. “All right! I was there,” he coughed weakly. He doubted
that cooperation would spare his life, but he hoped for a moment to
rest between assaults.

Ultara raised her
eyebrows. “Now, that's better,” she oozed, “but you know, Torak, I
am aware that you were there. What can you tell me that I am
not
aware
of?”

“I don't know how they got away,” he gasped.
“We had the palace surrounded!” He fought for breath as he spoke,
as it had been knocked out of him by Ultara’s crushing attack.

Just then, Commander Branlor burst into the
room and quickly ran to where she stood. “Vritesse,” he knelt down
humbly before her.

As he lifted his eyes, he noticed the
crumpled heap of a man lying on the ground a few feet away from
him. A sickening fear flooded through his core as he realized that
he’d just interrupted one of Ultara’s poignant interrogations.
“Please forgive my bold intrusion, Ma’am, but I have news.”

“Rise, Branlor, what is it?” Ultara kept her
eyes focused on Linden and paced slowly back and forth.

“We’ve found them!”

Ultara stopped in her tracks and turned her
gaze from Linden to Branlor. “You know where they are?” She looked
like a cat that had been turned loose on an unsuspecting bird.

Linden, too, seemed very interested in the
news.

Ultara noticed his sudden interest out of
the corner of her eye. Once more, her eyes lit up brilliant gold;
she sent a powerful, fatal burst of energy coursing through
Linden's body. He shrieked and convulsed wildly, and then, let out
his final, painful breath.

Linden Torak lay rigid—eyes wide open—and
dead right in the center of the mosaic star.

Branlor stood gaping—stunned by Ultara’s
apparent indifference to the fact that she’d just ended a man’s
life so easily.

“We can’t risk anything, Branlor,” she
explained. “He was a spy, and your information about the Borlocs
most definitely would not have remained between us. Besides, his
thoughts revealed nothing useful.”

She looked down at his stiffened form and
motioned to Linetal and Torschel, “Take him away, and the next time
I ask you to bring me information,” her eyes lit up just a little
as both Linetal and Torschel winced fearfully, “make sure you bring
me someone who actually has some!”

They bowed, and dragged Linden’s body across
the bridge and out of the room.

“Now, Branlor, where are they?”

“They were found on Drolana,” he responded,
still a little shaken, but not wanting to show it.

“What? So your theory was right. It was
Glaron?”

“It appears so, Vritesse. If Glaron was able
to get his receptors onto the atoc and atoh he could have channeled
enough energy through his own body to transport them with his
Traveler powers.”