The Candy Shop War, Vol. 2: Arcade Catastrophe (16 page)

“Think we’ll get more of those assignments?” Nate wondered.

“I don’t know,” Chris said. “The last two times it came as a surprise.”

Risa glided over to them, handing Nate a short wooden baton.

“What’s this?” Nate asked.

“Use it to collect the rings,” she said. “They’re clamped loosely to the poles. They’ll pop off with a little force. See how quickly you can round them up.”

Nate rubbed his hands together. “Are you going to time me?”

Producing a stopwatch, Risa gave a nod. “Let’s get started.”

*****

When Summer entered the training facility with a short, freckly kid, Nate was playing catch with the three other Jets. They used a black, undersized football. Risa could throw and catch almost as well as Chris, but Lindy was practically hopeless, catching fewer than one in ten of the balls thrown her way.

Nate hardly dropped any. It had not taken him long to learn to anticipate the trajectory of the ball and to get into position for just about any throw that came near him. He loved when the football was a little ahead of him and he could accelerate to come alongside it, then pluck the ball out of the air almost as if it were standing still. Once he glanced off the wall fairly hard, missing a catch, and once he narrowly avoided colliding with the floor, swooping up just in time, the toes of his shoes grazing blue gymnastics mats.

“Wow,” Summer called from the floor of the facility. “I’ve never seen a flock of kids before!”

Nate, Chris, Risa, and Lindy landed near Summer and her companion.

“Hi, Derek,” Chris said. “I see you found a friend.”

“Two Tanks are better than one,” Derek replied.

“You’re a Jet, Lindy?” Summer asked in surprise.

“I worked at it on my own,” Lindy explained.

Risa looked around. “I have a feeling this place will start getting busy.”

“Todd told me that a lot of kids are getting close to enough tickets for a stamp,” Derek said. “You guys playing catch?” He held up his hands for the ball.

Risa handed it over.

“Go long,” Derek said.

Chris and Risa streaked toward the far corner of the room. Derek made an amazing throw, the ball streaking up toward the far corner of the huge warehouse with hardly any arc. Chris reached to make the catch, but the ball slapped off his hands and into the wall. Risa curved down and caught the football before it struck the floor.

Nate looked at Derek with new respect. He doubted whether the strongest NFL quarterback could have thrown the ball so hard. “I guess being a Tank makes you stronger?”

Summer leaned close to him. “It’s like an Ironhide, plus you weigh more, plus you’re stronger. And it lasts for two days.”

“How strong?” Nate asked.

Summer shrugged. “Try to push me.”

Nate placed a hand on each of Summer’s shoulders and shoved. Instead of her moving, he pushed himself away, as if he had shoved a wall. Summer smirked.

“You look the same,” Nate said, surprised.

“I didn’t get bigger,” Summer said. “But I weigh a lot more, and I’m scary strong.”

“How strong?” Nate repeated.

“Fly up to the ceiling.”

Nate turned and started to soar upward. A hand gripped his ankle with painful tightness, and his upward progress stopped. He put everything he had into flying up, but didn’t go anywhere.

He glanced back at Summer. “So you can hold me down. But I’m not sure I could carry your weight even if you weren’t a Tank.”

“Are you calling me chubby?” Summer accused.

“No,” Nate said. “I’m just not sure how much extra weight I can carry while flying.”

Derek walked over holding a barbell. “Two 45-pound plates on each side,” he said. “Plus the bar weighs 45. That’s a total of 225.”

He tossed the barbell to Summer, who caught it easily. She lifted it over her head. “This isn’t bad,” she reported. “Kind of heavy. I could do more.” She set it down.

Nate bent and tried to pick it up. The barbell felt fused to the floor. He couldn’t lift it at all, although he could roll it back and forth.

Nate straightened, looking at Derek. “Can you lift a car?”

“The back end of a small one. But that feels really heavy. With Summer helping we might be able to lift a small one completely off the ground.”

“So you’re not strong like a superhero,” Nate clarified.

“Not really,” Derek said. “But we can take punishment like a superhero. Still, I’m not a big kid, but it would probably take the strongest man alive to challenge me at arm wrestling.”

“I’m impressed,” Nate said. “Do you guys shoot cannonballs, too?”

“Do you launch air-to-surface missiles?” Summer countered.

Nate shook his head. “I wish we were a little more durable. We have to be careful flying or we could really get hurt.”

“You better be careful if you go up against the Tanks,” Derek warned with a smile. “You might get hurt that way, too.”

*****

Parked near an office supply store, Vincent, Ziggy, Trevor, and Pigeon huddled together in the white van. Trevor and Pigeon munched on the donuts Ziggy had provided.

“Jonas White?” Vincent said. “He normally keeps to the shadows. Not a lot is known about him. I suppose we should have kept him higher on our suspect list. After all, his sister was here last year. But he has never been known to partner with his sister, and although we suspect that he’s powerful, he has stayed inactive for decades.”

“Sometimes guys like him bide their time,” Ziggy said. “They’re powerful, but they’ve learned patience. They marshal their resources and wait for a big score. Remember Vadik Baskov?”

Victor snorted. “Good point.”

“What did he do?” Pigeon wondered.

“He stole the Hope Diamond,” Victor said.

“From the Smithsonian?” Pigeon exclaimed.

“This was before the Smithsonian had it,” Ziggy said.

“We returned it to the rightful owner,” Victor added.

“How long have you guys been doing this?” Trevor wondered.

“Almost a century,” Ziggy replied.

“We’re straying off topic,” Victor said.

“Right,” Ziggy said. “Jonas White. What else did you learn?”

“Nate told us that the stamps themselves have power,” Trevor said. “He was worried about sharing details.”

“Summer seemed nervous too,” Pigeon said. “She came by briefly after she finished with Jonas. She said he was planning a treasure hunt.”

“Treasure hunt?” Victor repeated. “What could he be after?”

“That’s a question for Mozag,” Ziggy replied. “I’m not sure what a magician might want around here.”

“What else do you guys know about Jonas White?” Pigeon asked.

“Almost nothing,” Victor said. “Again, it would be nice to ask Mozag. I know that Jonas White has been around since long before our time, which means he’s no featherweight. I’m not sure where he comes from or what his specialties might be.”

“We looked into the nachos,” Ziggy said. “They’ve magically tampered with the cheese. We’re not experts at magical formulas, but we think the cheese is like the white fudge from John’s report on Belinda White. The cheese is addictive and numbs the ability of those who eat it to perceive the supernatural.”

“We think it might also be designed to reactivate any old white fudge addictions,” Victor added. “We’ll confirm more as we continue to monitor the situation. Certainly stay away from it.”

“We will,” Trevor said. “And we’ll let you know more after we earn our stamps tomorrow.”

“Careful about that,” Ziggy warned. “Jonas White is recruiting. He’ll have ways of binding you to him. He won’t want you sharing info with us.”

“If all else fails, come to my house in the middle of the night,” Pigeon said. “I’ll talk to you.”

“I hope so,” Victor sighed.

*****

Nate and Lindy flew beside each other through the night sky. Staying well above the rooftops, Nate doubted whether people on the ground could possibly identify them as anything more than small, quick shadows against the moon and stars. The cool night air swished against him. It felt exhilarating not to be limited by a ceiling or walls. If he wanted, he could soar up to where the air would become thin and freezing.

Nate didn’t try anything too fancy because he didn’t want to lose track of Lindy in the darkness. He had promised to stand by her when she returned home.

They glided down to the back of the candy shop, careful to land lightly. While practicing at the training facility, Nate had landed without much caution a couple of times, and it had felt like jumping from a moving vehicle.

The candy shop was closed. Lindy used a key to enter through the back door. She flipped a light switch. A moment after the lights came on, Mr. Stott hurried into the room. He looked from Nate to Lindy, his posture and expression showing h
is relief. He straightened up and tried to sound stern. “Where have you been, young lady?”

“I was the first to get a stamp,” she said uncertainly, showing the back of her hand. “I’m a Jet. I can fly.”

Although clearly surprised and upset, Mr. Stott was trying to keep calm. “I was very worried about you.”

“Then maybe you should have let me help,” Lindy said. “I wasn’t going to let my friends go into danger without me. I wasn’t going to ignore John Dart and Mozag.”

Mr. Stott rubbed his face. “This places me in a difficult position, Lindy.”

“I’m a Jet too,” Nate said. “We found out who owns Arcadeland.”

“Who?”

“Jonas White.”

Mr. Stott blanched. “Mrs. White’s brother?”

Nate nodded.

“Oh, dear,” Mr. Stott said. He started pacing. “This is . . . this is . . .” He stopped pacing and held out his arms. “Lindy, come here.”

Lindy crossed to Mr. Stott, who enfolded her in a fierce hug.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Lindy said, her voice choked with emotion.

“I know,” Mr. Stott said. “I placed you in a tough position. It’s hard when I make a rule that conflicts with what you feel is right. I know you didn’t disobey me casually.”

“I didn’t,” she said.

“I’m glad that you’re all right,” Mr. Stott said. Ending the hug, he placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “You realize that you’re in great danger.”

“All of us are,” she replied.

“We’ll talk more later,” Mr. Stott said. “Go wash up. I need to have some words with Nate in private.”

“How much trouble am I in?” Lindy asked hesitantly.

“I should be the least of your worries,” Mr. Stott said. “You’re now involved in something truly perilous. I can’t undo what you have done. But I’ll do my best to help you.”

She gave a nod and glanced at Nate. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“Sure,” he said.

She flew over to the stairway and glided up out of sight. Mr. Stott followed her with his eyes. He waited until he heard the door to their apartment open and close, then motioned for Nate to follow him to his private office.

Mr. Stott closed the door and stood near Nate, speaking in a low voice. “How long do the stamps last?”

“At least two days,” Nate said. “Then I guess the power starts to fade.”

“You have real flight?” Mr. Stott asked. “Like Peter Pan? Like Superman?”

“Yeah,” Nate said.

“Does it tire you?”

“No, not at all,” Nate realized. “Less than walking. I mean, you have to focus. If you crash you can get hurt, so you do have to concentrate. But I’ve been flying most of the day, and my body isn’t tired at all.”

“Very potent magic,” Mr. Stott said. “I doubt I could devise such an enhancement if I spent the rest of my days slaving on the project.” His expression changed, becoming more concerned. “What has he told her?”

“Nothing,” Nate said. “I’m not even sure if he knows.”

“How could he not know?” Mr. Stott fretted. He folded his arms. “I suppose it’s possible. Maybe so much time has passed. One sibling could be considerably older than the other. Or they might have been separated in their youth. But I suspect he must know. What is he after?”

“We’re not supposed to tell,” Nate said. “He’s on a treasure hunt. Some great thingamajig made by a guy called Iwa Iza.”

“Interesting,” Mr. Stott said, stretching the word out. “He’s looking for Uweya.”

“That’s the word he used,” Nate said. “What is it?”

Mr. Stott gave a slow shrug, raising his hands vaguely. “A legend. Iwa Iza was a great mage who lived long, long ago. His creations interacted with the environment. He allegedly made a bowl that could summon a tornado, and a drum that could cause an earthquake. His greatest creation, Uweya, is shrouded in mystery. I know of it, but I know little about it. I’m not sure anyone does.”

“Jonas must know something,” Nate said.

“He is certainly behaving as though Uweya were more than a myth,” Mr. Stott agreed. “I’ll start researching the subject. Quietly, of course.”

“What do we do about Lindy?” Nate asked.

Mr. Stott shook his head sadly. “Our options are limited. We could let the Battiatos take her away. They would have to imprison her. I expect such a course would destroy any chance of her being rehabilitated and living a normal life. Otherwise, with her in your stamp club and Jonas aware of her, we would just need to ride this out and see where it goes.”

“She seems loyal to us,” Nate said.

“Jonas could have a plan to turn her,” Mr. Stott said. “I don’t think he can undo the Clean Slate, but what do I know? I would have considered the flight enhancement he gave you virtually impossible. Would you mind if I studied the ink?”

“Go ahead,” Nate said.

Mr. Stott stared at the back of Nate’s hand. He examined it with a magnifying glass. He sniffed it. He rubbed it with a few cloths of different textures. “Interesting. I suppose I can do further studies on Lindy. Have you learned anything about John Dart?”

“There are many rooms at Arcadeland that Lindy can’t see. We haven’t had much chance to investigate. Mr. Stott, you wouldn’t turn Lindy over to the Battiatos?”

“No, not while she remains loyal to us. I’m glad you’re in this Jet club with her. You need to keep an eye on her, Nate. If you have any misgivings . . .”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Nate assured him. “I like the new Lindy, but I’d rather throw her in jail for the rest of her life than have Belinda White back.”