The Curse of Arkady (34 page)

Then everything stopped as suddenly as it had begun. He hung suspended, suddenly aware that he was no longer moving, and the roaring noise had finished, and there was nothing but the sound of silence and his own squeaking breath. Wherever he was traveling to, he'd arrived! But nothing met his feet, and it was impossible for him to stay hanging in air much longer.

“Gaaaaaah!” cried Henry and he fell.

 

He fell short and hard, tumbling onto an old linoleum floor that was glazed almost golden yellow with years of wax. The fall thumped the breath out of him. Henry knelt on hands and knees for a minute before getting shakily to his feet. His backpack slipped from his shoulder and fell to the floor. As he looked down, he saw that he held half a bronzed and twisted cobra in each hand. He hadn't just broken it open, he'd snapped it in two. Henry winced, hoping that Dr. Patel either wouldn't mind or could fix it.

That was probably the least of his worries, he thought, as he looked around. He was in Gavan Rainwater's camp office, and he knew that Ravenwyng was a considerable distance from anything he could even remotely call home. Furthermore, he seemed to be here alone.

“Hello?” He twisted around. The place looked as if Gavan were here often, but not this morning. No one was about this morning.

He put the pieces of jewelry in his backpack, hoping the Magicker doctor would not be angry with him. She had given it to him to use when there was trouble, and a wolfjackal at his back door meant a lot of trouble to him.

Pulsating color caught his eye. A great crystal on top of a wooden filing cabinet in the corner moved and shimmered as if alive. Amber rays shot out from it every now and then, and it revolved on a base, as if it turned about on its own. Henry hesitated. Then he licked lips gone terribly dry and moved toward it, just to look. This, he knew, belonged to Gavan. It must be the alarm beacon Jason talked about, the one that didn't always work. It seemed to be working now.

He stepped to its side and tentatively waved his hand through a ray, and amber color flowed over his hand like water, but he didn't feel it, just saw it.

“Wow.” Henry dipped his hand in again. Golden waves dappled him. He grinned.

“Henry? What are you doing here? Is there a problem?”

He spun about guiltily at the voice, flinging his hands up, and backing clumsily into the file cabinet. His face lit up, though, with welcome. “Dr. Patel! We had trouble, a wolfjackal.”

“Indeed? Does anyone know you're here?”

He shook his head.

“They will.” Smiling, she stepped forward with a very faint chiming of the belled anklet she wore, and something snarled from the corner behind the desk, leaping over at both of them. He caught a last glimpse of the alarm beacon crystal, as he fell into the cabinet and it flew off its base, arching through the air and shattering as it hit the floor. He grabbed for a shard of it, thinking of Jason as he did. Dr. Patel was reaching for him. Then he hit his head, hard, and found only darkness.

 

Jason paused halfway to school. A feeling arched through him, like a shock wave of warning and dismay and terror, and it seemed to call out to him. He blinked. It was like . . . like a disturbance in the Force, corny as that sounded, but this must have been what that felt like. Something was terribly wrong somewhere. His hand went immediately to his crystal. His friends and family ran through his mind, but he found nothing but pleasant warmth when he thought of them. Except for Henry.

He found an icy cold when he thought of Henry.

Darn it! He'd known all along Henry was the most vulnerable of all of them. He didn't even have a focus he could use to help stave off the Dark Hand if they came after him.

Jason looked down the street. His early Friday morning appointment with Finch loomed. But the crystal in his hand told him Henry was in trouble, somehow, and he needed to find out why and where. He took a deep breath, turned about on the sidewalk, and headed back home.

Everyone was gone but McIntire when he came back in. He entered the study hesitantly, unwilling to disturb him, for McIntire sat with his desk covered in blueprints and sketches, and a heavy frown on his face. He looked up. “Oh. Morning, Jason. Problem?”

“Sir. You know, we talked about trust?”

“Indeed we did. Used to be, when I started out in business, you could shake a man's hand and that would be the contract, his bond. Trust. Now, you need a fleet of lawyers on both sides, and why? Because people break their trust.”

Jason cleared his throat uneasily. “I know I have to see Mr. Finch and get things straightened out, but I just can't do it today. I need to . . . I need to miss my counseling appointment this morning and maybe a class or two.”

“You intend to ditch some classes and you're telling me about it?” McIntire stared at him.

“Yup. Look. I need you to trust me on this. I've got to help someone out, it's this project.”

“No drugs.”

“No, sir.” Jason swallowed tightly. “Nothing like that.”

“Anything to do with Halloween?” McIntire watched his face steadily.

Tonight was Halloween night. The irony of Brennard striking out at all of them like the vampire he was hit Jason with irony. “It might, I'm not sure yet.”

The Dozer put down his pencil. “You know, Jason. I never hesitated asking Joanna to marry me because of you kids. Bright, good kids, both you and Alicia. I'm proud to be your father. Stepfather.” He coughed slightly. “You haven't given me any evidence otherwise, so . . . all right. Let me know when you're back then. I've got trouble with the McHenry house coming out my ears. I'll be on the cell phone. And I'll handle your mother when she gets home. But—” And McIntire pointed at him. He paused as if searching for the right word. “Be careful,” he finally said.

“Yessir! I'll try!” Jason darted out of the door and upstairs to the safety of his room. He pulled his trapdoor shut after him and got first the lavender crystal out, and then his own. Cupping them closely, he summoned the alarm beacon and found no answer. Not again! Not now, not this time!

Jason closed his eyes and called on Gavan with all his might. His thoughts went ebony and then crimson with intensity, then suddenly, he conjured the image of Rainwater in his mind.

“Jason?” came a faint response. “What is it, lad?”

“Trouble.”

Gavan suddenly strengthened in his thoughts as the other Magicker threw his own power into their conversation. The head and shoulders image of the man stared through Jason's mind. “What kind and where?”

“I don't know! It's Henry. He's just . . . well, he's gone cold.”

“Jason, that's not enough to . . .”

“And the alarm beacon is out.”

“What? I was just in my office. I had some matters to take care of, about Fizziwig. The crystal was fine. What the hell is going on?” Gavan shook his head. “Let me get some of the others. We'll follow up on Henry and let you know.”

“Okay.”

Then, as quickly as he'd been watching Gavan's face grow concerned and angry, the image was gone and his thoughts were empty.

Jason sat back in his chair. There was really nothing more he could do. He booted his computer and left quick messages for Bailey and Trent, not knowing if he would catch them before they left their homes. Rich and Stefan had auto-messages on their e-mail stating that the team was out of state for a middle school football tournament, and they were gone for a long weekend in Texas. He didn't even leave mail for Ting. There was no sense in frightening her.

Jason checked his watch. His session with Statler Finch was nearly half gone. Gavan would contact him, when there was anything to know. He decided to face the music and go to school anyway.

By the time he got there, the campus was crowded with students clustered around, waiting for regular morning classes to begin. He wouldn't have to deal with missing first period then, for which he could be grateful, if he wasn't so worried about Henry.

Sam caught him in the main corridor by their lockers. “Man, where have you been?”

“I got up late. I haven't missed anything yet.”

“Nothing but your appointment with the psychoologist.”

“That's not funny, Sam.” Jason sighed. His friend pulled at his arm.

“It will be.” Sam stuffed a folder of papers in his hand. “Listen, he was all over campus looking for you this morning. So he'll haul you out of first period soon as he finds out you've shown up. But this . . .” Sam tapped the folder. “This is your ammo, bro.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I got hauled in last night to talk to him.”

“Oh, man. I'm sorry, Sam. Really, really sorry.”

Sam hit him in the shoulder. “Shut upppp! Let me finish. Coach brought me, and they went down to the teachers' lounge and yelled at each other for a while. So I poked around a little. Looked at the diplomas on the wall and stuff. He had mail on his desk, Jason, about repaying a student loan. Then I came home and looked everything up on the Internet.” Sam shook Jason. “Jason. He didn't finish his Counseling Masters. He dropped out. The diploma is a photocopy.”

Jason opened the folder. He looked at what appeared to be a list of graduates. “Doesn't exist? He's not in here?”

“Nope. That creep is a fraud. A fake. He shouldn't even be working here at the school! So when he comes after you . . . just point that folder at him and slap him down.” Sam grinned. “I put copies on the principal's desk. He'll see 'em in a day or two, I'm sure.”

“Wow. He's a fake? His credential is no good?” Jason tried to take in all the implications. He was free!

“Yup. I can get a better diploma from the grocery store and fill in the blanks.” Sam slapped him on the shoulder as the bell rang.

“Sam . . . ”

“Yeah?” Sam turned back to him.

“Thanks.”

“Are you kidding? That's how friends take care of each other. Even if you are a Potter geek.”

“Soccer geek!”

Sam laughed. He raised a hand as the warning bell sounded and trotted off to class.

Jason clenched his folder. He slipped into Home Room and sat through the morning's bulletins, and wasn't at all surprised when his teacher looked up, motioned him forward, and gave him a pass sending him immediately to Finch's office. Nor was he surprised at the look of cruel triumph that flashed across Statler's face.

“Breaking appointments won't do you much good, Jason.” Statler practically crowed as he gestured Jason into the office.

“I'm not staying long,” Jason said. “I volunteered for these sessions, and now I'm not.”

Statler's thin mouth tightened until it all but disappeared. “Sit down, young man, and be quiet.”

Jason stayed in the doorway. He shook his head. “No, sir. You can't hold me. I'm going back to playing soccer and making practices and doing anything else I need to, just like any other student.”

Statler moved to the far side of his desk, and began to slide open a drawer. “I think,” he said, “you have no idea of what you're dealing with.”

Jason waved his folder. “I think you thought you were too smart for your papers to get caught. But they're fakes, and so are you. I don't have to stay here for classes with you, and I don't intend to. You're twisted, Statler, and you're caught.”

“You can prove nothing.”

“Copies of this are on the principal's desk right now. I don't have to prove anything. I think you're the one who needs to answer the questions.”

Statler snarled. His face contorted and reshaped, and Jason could almost smell the hot spittle, just like a wolfjackal's growling snarl. He stepped back, suddenly frightened in spite of himself.

Statler reached in and grabbed a large, blood-red crystal. “You have no idea what you're dealing with!” He let out a short howl of hate.

“You're mine!” And the jaws in his face had trouble saying the word.

Jason blinked, staring into the gullet of a rapidly transforming wolfjackal. “You came after me specifically.” His hand throbbed with a white-hot pain, searing through his scar. “They planted you here!”

“Cleverrrr lad,” the beast managed. Its clothes disappeared as if they had only been a veil of illusion.

No wonder Statler hadn't seen the wolfjackal . . . he
was
the beast.

H
E stumbled into Gavan's empty office seconds later, his heart still thudding from his escape from Statler Finch. One hand was knotted about the folder, clutching it, and the other about the crystal so tightly, it left its imprint in his palm. He slid the folder into his backpack and zipped it tightly, then looked about into chaos.

The massive desk was overturned. Amber shards were strewn everywhere . . . the alarm crystal had shattered and been rendered useless. Jason swept his gaze over the room and the destruction. Chairs, overturned. The wood filing cabinet had nearly gone, too, but it leaned heavily on a small table. Its drawers hung open, papers overflowing from it. The office looked like the aftermath of an all-out brawl, especially with broken glass lying around.

Jason shifted uneasily. Under the lip of the overturned desk, he could see Henry's backpack. Lying next to it was the prone and dead form of another wolfjackal, an amber sliver of the broken crystal through its flank. He shuddered. One close encounter too many.

“Oh, Henry,” he sighed. Whatever had happened to Henry, it had begun here. He put a hand to the back of his neck, and rubbed it. He thought of Khalil's last words during the Council argument.
You have a betrayer in your midst.