Rebels of the Lamp, Book 1 (3 page)

“You’re dead, Parker!”

I know, thought Parker. I know.

He poured it on and got ahead of the kids chasing him. The next level of the building was a long hallway full of exhibits stretching in both directions. Parker ducked out of sight behind a
massive globe of the moon. He stayed perfectly still while Adam and Jason rounded the corner and ran the other way.

A little kid with a toy rocket stared at Parker, and Parker grinned back, relieved. He was in the clear.

When he stood up, though, his jacket caught on the metal stand that was holding the globe up. Parker’s grin vanished as the globe came spinning down and landed with a thud at the rocket
kid’s feet. Then it started to slowly
roll
.

Someone yelled, “Hey!”

Great, thought Parker. A security guard. Where was he when I was being threatened by my buddies Jason and Adam?

The guard ran to Parker, clutching his belt with his left hand so his radio and flashlight didn’t bang into his legs.

“Don’t move! Stay right there!”

Good advice, thought Parker. But not great advice. He ran again.

“Hey!” said the guard. Parker looked over his shoulder and saw that the huge globe was gathering speed and scattering people left and right as it cut a swath through the museum. The
Cub Scouts scrambled for cover, tangling up the guard, who watched helplessly as the globe smashed into Einstein’s bench and knocked the statue over.

Mr. Ardigo’s not going to be happy about that, thought Parker. He ducked under a brass railing and burst through some closed doors into the planetarium, where the show he was supposed to
be watching was just getting started. A machine rose up in the middle of the room and projected lights and colors onto the domed ceiling to make you feel like you were looking at space. The
show’s narrator explained how far away the stars were and talked about how the different constellations got their names, and pointed out the Milky Way and the Crab Nebula. The seats were laid
back so you didn’t have to crane your neck to look up.

Parker didn’t have time to enjoy the show. He ran straight to the exit on the other side of the room, the security guard on his tail.

“Parker!” said Mr. Ardigo from one of the seats. “That had better not be you!”

“It’s not!” Parker said as he got through the exit door, just steps ahead of the guard, who had renewed the hunt with a very red face and a burst of not-so-good-natured
intensity.

Parker ducked behind a wall, and the guard ran right past, barking into his radio.

Parker put his hands on his knees, out of breath from all that running. An old man stared at him.

“The scope of the universe,” Parker panted. “It takes my breath away.”

Parker had escaped. He had no idea what to do next, but the important thing was that, for the moment at least, he was safe.

“Hey, buddy,” said a voice behind him.

Parker turned. It was Jason and Adam.

“We’ve been looking all over for you.”

Parker ran once more, this time heading for open space. He slammed the handle on some glass doors and found himself outside.

The exterior of the observatory was even more impressive than the inside. There were walkways on every floor, with coin-operated telescopes mounted to the railings so you could look at Los
Angeles. Girls posed while their boyfriends took their pictures in front of the city.

It really was some view. From here, LA didn’t look half bad.

Parker stopped. The sweaty security guard was coming the other way.

He was in it now. If he went left, Adam and Jason would get him. If he went right, he’d run straight into the security guard. He was toast.

Parker didn’t know the place’s layout, but he knew that the levels were all connected by stairways. Piece of cake. He would jump the wall, land on the stairs, and run down to the
bottom level. Easy. Elegant, even. Parker put his hand on the railing and vaulted over.

Except the stairs were on the other side of the building, and Parker had just launched himself over the edge of a cliff. The only thing there was a hundred-foot drop and some very unfriendly
looking rocks.

Holy crap, thought Parker. Jason was right. I really am dead.

B31772—VESIROTH’S JOURNAL, CIRCA 1200 B.C.

I have been with Farrad for weeks now.

He is an enigma to me. He dresses in tattered robes and worn sandals. He has no friends and mentions no family. Even his age is a mystery to me.

We never stay in one place for more than a few days. He trades household objects out of his battered wagon, earning just enough silver to keep us in food and his old horse in
oats. I do not know where he comes from or where he is heading. He seldom speaks, and when he does he says no more than a few words at a time.

He has taken great care to nurse me back to health. He fed me broth until I was strong enough to take solid food. He covered my damaged face with bandages. He gave me clothes
and a place to lay my head. At night we sit by the fire in silence. Farrad stares into the flames and thinks his thoughts. He has asked me no questions about myself, although he must know what
happened to me. If he takes any satisfaction at having saved my life, he does not show it. His kindness to me feels less like a good deed and more like atonement for past sins.

I can think of nothing but my family and how I failed them.

One day, while Farrad was away trading, the grief I felt over the death of my wife and daughters finally overwhelmed me. I felt I could not bear another night of loneliness,
another night of black dreams that ended in me sweating through my bandages and screaming myself awake. I had nothing to live for, and my despair was so great that I sought to do myself
harm.

I searched for something, anything I could use to take my own life. Perhaps Farrad had foreseen my joyless mood, for the wagon was devoid of weapons of any kind, and even the
sham ointments foisted off on gullible peasants as a cure-all for anything from coughing fits to baldness were gone.

In my desperation, I tore the wagon apart. Just when my mood was at its bleakest, my hands felt a weak spot in the wood of Farrad’s driver’s bench. I pried it open
and found hidden within an ancient book, so old that at first I dared not open it lest the pages crumble into dust. I found my courage, though, and I opened the volume to read.

What I found astounded me. The book is an ancient compendium of arcane magick, written by hand and bound in some kind of hardened leather. It describes something called the
Nexus, which is a force of magick that surrounds everyone and everything. With the right spells, potions, amulets, and talismans, the book claims that it is possible to tap into the Nexus and amass
great power.

The book is the first thing, the only thing, to hold my interest since the destruction of my family. I became obsessed. I read it through that night and put it back in its
hiding place before Farrad returned. Now, whenever he is gone, I go back to the pages. They pull at me, call to me even. They quiet the screams of my wife and daughters when they threaten to
smother me. The secrets of the universe are contained within them.

I am especially beguiled by the book’s concluding page. There is written a fragment of an incantation that promises ultimate power. The spell is incomplete, but it
intrigues me and haunts my sleep.

Perhaps in the Nexus I may find the peace that eludes me.

APPARENTLY, MERCURY AND THE REST
of the observatory gods were feeling...benevolent.

Mr. Ardigo, out looking for his favorite student and for once in his life at the exact right place at the exact right time, grabbed Parker’s arm and stopped him from getting all the way
over the railing and splatting to a messy death on the rocks below.

He stopped Parker in midair and dragged him back over the wall. Mr. Ardigo didn’t let go until they were both lying in a heap next to the wall.

“Thanks,” said Parker, his eyes wide with amazement. “For a minute there I was in serious trouble.”

Oh, thought Mr. Ardigo, you have no idea what serious trouble is.

“Suspended. Well, that’s just great, Parker. That’s just about perfect.”

Parker stared out the window of the ten-year-old Saturn sedan as his mother drove. The car was once tan, but most of the paint on the roof and the hood had blistered off in the California sun.
The back door on the driver’s side was red, replaced after an accident years ago, but never repainted. His mother had assumed she would scrape together the cash to do it someday, but someday
never came.

“You talk back. Your grades are terrible, you lost all your friends, and now you’re getting into fights. Awesome. You’re future’s looking brighter every day.”

“I don’t know why I’m the one that’s in trouble!” he said. “Those guys were beating on this little kid and I told them to stop and they turned on me! I should
be getting some kind of a reward!”

“Don’t. Don’t even...Just don’t.”

Parker shut his mouth. His mom was wearing her Denny’s uniform, and she smelled like French toast and pancake syrup. That meant that the school called her at work, and
that
meant
that she had to get someone to cover the rest of her shift, and
that
meant that her boss, Antonio, was not happy, and that was bad news for everyone involved.

“When I think about what a pain it was to move just so you could be in a better school district...” She trailed off. A lot of people told Parker that he looked like his mom. They
both had dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Nobody ever told Parker he looked like his dad.

“You know you broke that kid’s nose, right? We’ll be lucky if his parents don’t sue. His dad’s a lawyer. Or a tax guy. Something like that. That’s just what
we need.”

She stopped the car at a red light. Parker looked up at a palm tree. In the movies, they seemed so glamorous, but they were everywhere in LA. This one was outside a liquor store with a broken
sign.

Parker’s mother sighed. Her sarcastic tone was gone when she spoke again.

“I’m trying, Parker. I’m trying so hard, but I’m doing it all alone, and you’re not helping me. It’s just...” She looked out her window.
“It’s just not working.”

The light turned and the car drove on, the two of them sitting in silence.

“I talked to your principal, and I talked to your school counselor, and they suggested that maybe it might be a good idea if you spent some time someplace where you could stay out of
trouble. Someplace with a yard and some fresh air where you could take a break and maybe make a fresh start. We thought that maybe if you stayed with your cousin for a while in New
Hampshire...”

Parker was stunned. He had expected the usual riot act, the yelling, the empty threats. He hadn’t expected this.

“You’re sending me
away
?”

“No! No!” said his mom. “Just for a little while.”

Parker couldn’t believe it.

“It’s hard for you here. I’m working all these double shifts, and you’re alone half the time. It’s not good for you. And you need some positive male influence in
your life.”

Parker let that one sit there. He knew she was talking about his dad, and he knew that she was right. Parker’s father was nobody’s role model.

“Let’s just try it. Let’s both agree that it’s an experiment and that we’ll both try to look at it like it’s a positive thing. It’ll be an
adventure.”

Parker sulked. “Yeah, New Hampshire is known for adventure.”

“It won’t be for forever. Just until things improve a little bit.”

“So this is a done deal, then? I don’t even get a say in it at all? I thought this was a democracy.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Parker. You’re not going to a mental institution. You’re going to New England.”

“Same difference.”

Parker’s mom’s voice turned cold again. “This is happening, buddy, so you might as well get used to the idea. I’ve already talked to your aunt Martha and uncle Kelsey.
You’re going this weekend.”

“This weekend? I can’t go this weekend! I have things to do here!”

“Really? Like what, exactly?”

Parker opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He didn’t have anything planned. Not a single thing.

“Really, Parker, what have you got to lose? What’s here that you’ll even miss? Maybe you’ll like it out there. You certainly don’t seem to like it here.”

She had a point.

“And it’s not like I’m abandoning you. You’re going now, and then I’m coming out in three weeks for Thanksgiving.”

Parker shook his head. He knew his mother. That was never going to happen.

“I am!” she said. “We’ll spend Thanksgiving together!”

“Sure, unless you have to pick up an extra shift or you can’t afford the ticket.”

“I’ll work it out.”

“Or you decide to go see dad instead.”

Parker practically spit the words out. His mother opened her mouth to say something cutting right back to him, but she took a breath instead. She let herself calm down before she spoke.

“Sooner or later, you’re going to have to forgive him,” she said.

Parker stared ahead.

“I’m not excusing what he did. It was stupid and it was selfish, and he’s paying the price for it. We’re
all
paying the price for it. You know, it hurts his
feelings that you won’t go and see him.”

“He’s a crook.”

Parker’s mother glared at him.

“He’s the man I married. And when this is all over we’re going to be a family again, even if it kills me.”

They drove in silence for a moment. The button for the passenger-side window was broken. There was a Chiquita Banana sticker Parker had stuck on the dashboard in sixth grade.

“New Hampshire will be good for you, honey. It’ll be good for you to have people around that are going to be there for you. It’ll be good for you to have people you can count
on.”

“You can’t count on anybody,” Parker said. “They’ll always let you down.”