The Candy Shop War, Vol. 2: Arcade Catastrophe (19 page)

“Tell the Hermit you want the Gate to Uweya,” Todd advised. “He’ll know what you’re after.”

“We know he has it with him?” Lindy asked.

“The Hermit moves around a lot,” Cleon said. “But he keeps his treasures close. Either he’ll have it on him or he’ll know where to find it.”

Todd held up a small drawstring bag. “Each club will get some of this to help you. It’s called Finder’s Dust. Just sprinkle it in the air, and the particles will be drawn to any magical items in the vicinity.”

“The effect has limits,” Cleon clarified. “It’ll find objects in a small room, but it won’t travel down the street and around the corner. Use a little at a time, focusing on suspicious areas.”

“The club that brings the Gate into Arcadeland wins the competition,” Todd said. “It doesn’t matter who does what along the way. We don’t care who works the hardest, who finds the Gate, or who snatches it. All we care about is who brings it to us. The losers will surrender their stamps to the winners.”

“These rules give the Jets an unfair advantage,” Pigeon said. “There’s no river near Arcadeland.”

“We’ve explained the task,” Cleon said. “The rest is up to you. Meet here at sundown. You’ll depart once it’s dark.”

“Wait,” Pigeon complained. “If we leave from here, the Jets will easily beat us to the ship. That will give them an even bigger advantage.”

Todd shrugged. “Mr. White made the rules. You Subs are quick in the water. If I were you, I’d start looking for the nearest waterways that link to your destination. You guys have the rest of the day to prepare.”

“I recommend searching the lockers in here,” Cleon said. “You’re welcome to take any gear you find. Just bring it back.”

He and Cleon left the room.

“I wanted to take on the Jets,” Roman complained loudly.

“The target is a ship out on the water,” Summer said. “Jets and Subs probably make the most sense.”

“I guess we’ll get our chance,” Roman said.

“Unless the Racers beat you first,” Trevor said.

“We should plan,” Chris said, looking at the map.

The different clubs started moving away from one another. Nate conferred with the other Jets, but the planning didn’t impress him. Basically, they would fly to the place on the map and see what happened, adapting as necessary.

Nate glided over to where the Subs were getting back into the water. “Hey, Pidge.”

Drew, another of the Subs, paused beside Pigeon, his eyes on Nate. Pigeon pointed to the pool. “Go ahead. Let me talk to Nate for a second.”

Drew obeyed reluctantly. Nate stood near Pigeon, and they spoke with their voices lowered.

“Do you want me to throw it?” Pigeon murmured. “I could sabotage us.”

“No,” Nate said, somewhat surprised by the offer. “I was thinking we should both just do our best to win. I’m not sure it matters which of us stays in.”

“It could matter a lot,” Pigeon replied quietly. “I’m good at planning, but you’re more clutch in emergencies. Plus, there are two of us on the Jets. Wouldn’t it make more sense to keep you and Lindy involved?”

“Might make more sense to get her uninvolved,” Nate said. “We still don’t know if Jonas recognized her, or what he’s planning if he did.”

“I’m not sure she’s any safer either way,” Pigeon said. “If Jonas knows her secret, whether or not she’s in one of his clubs probably won’t matter. Look, I won’t try hard to blow it for the Subs, but I won’t go out of my way to win, either. Although it would be kind of fun to fly.”

“We probably shouldn’t talk for too long,” Nate said.

“Right. We might not get a chance to chat more before sunset. Good luck.”

“You too. Be careful. We don’t know much about what we’re up against.” Nate flew away to rejoin the Jets, and Pigeon dove into the water.

*****

As he soared away from the training center, Nate debated whether to switch on his night vision. Below him, the world had been simplified into a grid of lights. The Jets flew well above the ground, hopefully high enough to avoid attention from people down below. Their black clothing helped them blend with the night sky. They all wore protective helmets, elbow pads, and knee pads.

Nate had brought the tranquilizer pistol that Pigeon had passed along from the Battiatos. Lindy had hers as well. Although the helmets were equipped for night vision, the moon was probably bright enough to help them get the job done. Besides, Lindy flew beside Nate, and he knew that she could see in the dark much better than any night vision device.

As planned, they flew to the freeway, then followed the opposing streams of headlights and taillights toward the first junction. Freeways would lead them most of the way to the desired inlet. Chris held the map.

Chris kept increasing their speed until they were moving faster than the cars below. The air remained warm after an uncomfortably hot day. It washed over Nate like a gale as he sped forward. Even at such a high speed, flying caused him no physical exhaustion.

After a few freeway junctions, they left the busy roads behind and flew toward a dark expanse of water. Silver moonlight reflected gently off the surface in places. Thanks to the moon, the
Striker
was not difficult to see, floating alone on the water as it had for years.

The Jets gathered a few hundred feet above the destroyer to confer. Although the waterway was wide, shore lights remained visible beyond the water on both sides.

“Seems quiet,” Chris said.

“I guess he’s not in a band,” Nate said.

Lindy rolled her eyes. “I don’t see any light.”

“Hopefully he’s asleep,” Risa replied.

“How long before the Subs get here?” Lindy wondered.

“We were hauling and we didn’t get lost,” Chris said. “Even if they found a ride to the nearest water, we’ve got to be like an hour ahead of them.”

“We can’t get too cocky,” Nate said. “They move through the water almost like how we fly. They might get here faster than we expect.”

“Not sooner than half an hour,” Chris said firmly.

“I want to be gone before they arrive,” Lindy said.

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Nate said. “It’s a big boat.”

“If the Hermit doesn’t want to be found, it could take all night,” Chris said. “We should get started.”

“Chris and Risa should wait here,” Nate suggested.

“No way,” Chris said. “It’ll take twice as long to find him without us.”

“Think about it,” Nate argued. “Somebody needs to keep watch for the Subs. Also, somebody needs to be ready in case the Hermit tries to slip away. If he escapes, we’re all in huge trouble.”

“Maybe Risa and Lindy should stay here,” Chris negotiated. “You and I can go in after him.” Chris held up a pair of handcuffs he had brought from the training facility.

“Lindy is really good at finding people,” Nate said. “I don’t mean she’s lucky, I mean she has an eerie gift.” They hadn’t told Chris and Risa about Lindy’s eye. Until Nate knew he could trust them, he wanted to keep that secret advantage private. He hoped he could bluff his way through this without a full explanation.

“And I guess she feels most comfortable working with you,” Chris said.

“Yeah,” Lindy agreed. “Is that okay?”

“Keeping watch isn’t a weak job,” Nate assured them. “If we flush him out, you guys will be more likely to catch him than we will.”

“Fine, go,” Chris said. “You’re wasting time.”

“You have handcuffs?” Nate asked Lindy.

She nodded. “You have pepper spray?”

“It’s supposed to be strong enough for a bear,” Nate said. “Hikers carry it.”

Lindy led the way down to the ship, diving steeply before alighting on the deck. Nate landed beside her.

“Know where he is?” Nate asked.

Lindy scanned the ship, then nodded. “Follow me.”

She walked quietly to a door, opened it, and Nate followed her through into the darkness beyond. He paused to switch on his night vision, illuminating the hallway in greenish hues. Nate had a flashlight, but he knew that relying on the night vision would give him a better chance of surprising the Hermit.

Lindy levitated a few inches off the ground. Nate followed her lead—it would enable them to move silently. They drifted along the narrow hall. The ship creaked and groaned around them—low, slow sounds. The interior of the ship smelled like old metal and mildew. Lindy led the way down a stairway. Nate hovered close to the stairs, slanting down through the still air.

Partway down the next hall, Lindy paused and waited for Nate to drift close. She put her lips to his ear and whispered, “He’s up here on the right.”

Nate nodded that he understood. He pulled out a canister of pepper spray and made sure it was ready to fire.

Lindy looked at him with wide eyes, her face green because of the night vision. He could see her fear. He felt it himself.

Who were they about to confront? They knew he was called the Hermit. They knew he might try to run. But what if he decided to fight? In the close confines within the ship, flying wouldn’t offer much advantage.

Nate pantomimed a pistol.

Lindy produced her tranquilizer gun.

Nate put his lips beside her ear. “Our first choice isn’t to put him to sleep, but if things get dangerous, let him have it.”

She gave him a thumbs-up to show her understanding. She still looked scared.

Nate took the lead, his toes inches above the floor. He glided down the corridor like a ghost. Lindy stayed close behind. Pulling alongside Nate, Lindy gestured toward a particular doorway, then let him reclaim the lead.

Pepper spray ready, Nate peered through the open doorway.

A man stood in the center of the room.

Stripped to the waist, he wore tattered jean shorts and had pale skin. His head was completely bald, but his ashen body was covered by sparse black hairs so bristly that they almost looked like short quills. The hairs were thickest on the front of his legs, the back of his arms, and atop his shoulders. He had a small, upturned nose with nostrils that almost faced forward. Fleshy webbing spanned his fingers and toes.

“Who are you two?” he asked in a scholarly voice with a faint British accent. “You came directly to my room.”

The sight of the man had made Nate gasp quietly. The calm, controlled voice did not match his strange appearance. The man made no threatening movement.

“Are you the Hermit?” Nate asked.

“Would it help if I told you no?” the man said dryly.

“Probably not,” Nate admitted.

“You’re floating,” the Hermit said.

“Yep.” Nate kept the pepper spray ready.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?” the Hermit checked.

“No. We’re here.”

“What do you want?” the Hermit asked.

“The Gate,” Nate said.

“The Gate? What Gate?”

“The Gate to Uweya,” Nate said.

The Hermit said nothing. Then he blinked. It was not a normal blink. It was like a clear film flowing over his eyeballs and then retracting.

“You can float,” the Hermit said. “You know about the Gate. You trespassed with impunity. You found me without searching. Who sent you?”

“Does it matter?” Nate asked.

“You want to take one of my most prized possessions,” the Hermit said. “I want to know who sent you. You’ve both been enhanced. The girl has a very impressive eye. Top-notch work. Who?”

“Jonas White,” Lindy said.

The Hermit laughed without cheer. “A fellow Simulcrist, of course, of course. I recently thought I felt someone reaching out for me. Just for a moment. I decided I must have imagined it. Shame on me—I probably should have left immediately.” He grasped a metallic figure eight that dangled from a length of twine around his neck. “He can glimpse me, perhaps, but no matter his power, he can’t touch me.”

“That protects you?” Lindy asked.

“From simulcry? Absolutely. Do your worst; I’m immune.”

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Nate said.

“Of course not,” the Hermit scoffed. “You just want to sneak into my home, threaten me with a caustic substance, and take something that belongs to me, on behalf of an enemy.”

“We don’t really work for Jonas,” Nate insisted. “He captured some friends of ours. We just need to get close to him so we can rescue them. We’d be happy to give you back the Gate once we find our friends.”

The Hermit laughed mockingly. “You think giving this Simulcrist the Gate will help your friends? If you can’t stop Jonas White now, how will you stop him once he becomes the most powerful person in the world?”

“What do you mean?” Nate asked.

“It’s the Gate to Uweya!” the Hermit said, as if that explained everything.

Nate had no response.

“You don’t even know what he’s looking for,” the Hermit realized.

“We just want to help our friends,” Lindy said.

“Uweya is the most powerful simulacrum ever devised,” the Hermit said. “If the legends are true, it can influence the entire world!”

“Are you searching for it?” Nate asked.

“Do I look like I’m on an expedition?” the Hermit asked. “I’ve resided here for years.”

“If you’re a Simulcrist, why haven’t you gone after it?” Nate challenged.

“It would require more than the Gate,” the Hermit said. “Uweya? Me? No thank you. Not at present. Perhaps not ever. Although I rest much easier knowing that I have the Gate and no one else does.”

“We need the Gate,” Nate said. “Others are coming. We’re going to get it. Don’t make this difficult.”

“That’s too bad about your friends,” the Hermit sympathized. “I wish nobody any harm. Actually, I wish nobody anything. I just want to be left alone. Is that too much to ask?”

“People are coming,” Nate stressed. “Give us the Gate and you can leave quietly. We don’t want to harass you.”

“Yes you do!” the Hermit replied sharply. “You are here to harass me. You are here to steal from me. This conversation is over. Tell Jonas White that he has a new enemy.”

“Don’t make this harder than—” Nate began.

The Hermit picked up a yellowed sheet of parchment and poked three fingers through it. As he did so, with a shriek of metal, the wall behind him tore open, forming a much larger hole of the exact same shape. Casting the parchment aside, the hermit snatched a green backpack, shrugging it on as he dove through the misshapen hole and out of the ship.