The Curse of the King (11 page)

It took me three sweeps of the light beam before I saw a wink of solid-colored fabric from beyond the thick copse at the base of the cliff. I kept the light trained on it as I limped through brambles, somehow managing to step into every small animal hole along the way.

Cass's body was twisted so that he was facing up, while his torso was nearly turned to the ground. I knelt by him, cupping my hand around his head. The backpack, with a telltale round bulge, was on the ground next to him. He hadn't even gotten the Loculus out. “Cass,” I said. “Are you all right?”

His eyes blinked. He seemed to have trouble focusing on me. “Aside from the pine needles in my butt,” he said, “I'm
pretty comfy. Owwwwww . . .” Grimacing, he rolled into a fetal position—just as Aly let out a scream from above.

I felt my blood run cold.

“Grab . . . the Loculus . . . of Strength . . .” Cass said.

I followed his glance with my flashlight until I saw the Loculus of Strength resting about ten feet away on a small, flat bush. I ran to it, flicked off the light, and dumped it back into my pack. “Thanks, Cass.”

Holding one Loculus under each arm—Strength and Flight—I shot upward. The statue was scrabbling down the mountainside, inches from Aly. “Hey, Zeus!” I called out.

He turned to face me, his gnarled fingers digging into the dirt.

I circled above him. His teeth shone in the moonlight, gritted with anger. With my hands full of Loculi, I would have to use my legs. “You'll get a kick out of this,” I said.

Swooping down, I smashed my foot into his jaw. His grip slipped. As he tumbled down the mountainside, head over heels, pain shot up my leg and my vision went totally white.

“Jack!” Aly cried out.

I steadied myself and flew up toward her. She reached out, grabbing my arm. “Are you okay?” she said.

“I'm glad I have Strength,” I replied, sailing down toward Cass. “But at the moment, I kind of wish I had Healing.”

I dropped to the ground, taking care to land on my good leg. “Can you . . . move, Cass?” I asked, grimacing at the pain.

“Break dancing, no,” Cass replied. “Running from a deranged killer god, yes. What about you? You don't look so good.”

I sat next to him, my eyes scanning the horizon. “Where is he—Zeus?”

“It was a pretty bad fall,” Cass said. “If he wasn't dead, he might be now.”

“He's a god,” Aly replied. “How can he be dead?”

“We have to book before he sees us.” I glanced around and noticed the small white shack in the distance. There was a cross on the roof. A church. “There.”

“Wait. I thought we were going to go back to where the monks are,” Aly said.

“I thought the statue would turn back to stone,” I said. “He hasn't. He's going to come after us. Those innocent kids and families and old people in Routhouni—you think none of them will be hurt?”

“But—” Aly said.

“We have three Loculi, Aly,” I said. “The Massa will know this. Wherever we go now, they will follow. We can't put all those people at risk. So let's move on!”

I put the Loculi down, reached for my phone, and sent Dad a text:

“Vamanos,”
I said, standing up.

On the other side of the bush, a great black shadow rose like a wave from the sea.
“WHO YOU GONNA CALL?”

A fist slammed against my chest and I fell backward.

Zeus crashed through the bush. I tried to stand but my ankle collapsed, shooting pain up the side of my body.

Through slitted eyes, I watched the god-statue sprint back toward town, the Loculus of Strength tucked under his arm, as another jet passed overhead.

L
IMPING TOWARD THE
white church, I stared at the message from Dad.

My ankle felt like it had been twisted off and shoved back on again. Cass's shirt was in tatters, his face scarred by branches. Aly looked like an extra from
The Walking Dead.
Now that the sun was peeking up, I could see every painful detail of my friends' injuries.

Zeus was long gone. By now he'd probably turned back into a statue again. Maybe back in Routhouni, maybe on the way.

I didn't want to find out. There'd be time to battle him again later. “How do I begin to answer this message?” I muttered.

“How about: ‘'Sup, Pop?'” Cass said. “‘We tried to steal a Loculus from a god who learned English by watching TV sitcoms. Jack pinned him to a wall, but he came back and nearly killed us. How was your sleep?'”

“It's not only sitcoms,” Aly said. “Movies, too. When Jack asked him what he wanted, he answered, ‘What do you got?' That's a line from
The Wild One
. Marlon Brando, 1953.”

Cass nodded. “For you, that counts as a new release.”

I blocked them out and began typing out a message to Dad:

Shoving the phone into my pocket, I continued the trudge across the rocky terrain. No one said much. I tried to look on the positive side. We were alive. We had located a Loculus.

That was about it for the positive side.

Destroyed Loculus of Healing? Check.

Lost Loculus of Strength? Check.

Brought maniac god to life and possibly set him loose on innocent Greek townspeople? Check.

Didn't even come close to attracting Massa, which was the whole reason we got into this mess in the first place? Check.

We were a team of losers, alone in the dark in the middle of nowhere, without a clue.

Loser, loser, loser.

I took a deep breath. Professor Bhegad had had names for the four of us.
Soldier, Sailor, Tinker, Tailor
. Cass was the Sailor who always knew how to navigate. Aly was our geeky Tinker of all things electronic. We'd lost our Soldier, Marco the Great and Powerful, to the Massa.

As the Tailor, I was . . . well, nothing, really.
The one who puts it all together
, according to Bhegad. As far as I was concerned, that was his lame way of saying
none of the above
.

There was nothing inside me for the G7W gene to make awesome.

Looking at my bedraggled friends, I figured the least I could do was put on a good face. “Hey, cheer up,” I said. “It ain't over till the fat lady sings.”

“Loo-loo-loo-LOOOOO!” Cass crowed like a demented soprano.

I had to laugh. But my ankle buckled again and I stopped.

Aly knelt by my side, touching my leg gently. “Is it broken? Zeus hit you pretty hard.”

“No, I don't think it's broken,” I replied. Her touch did nothing for the pain, but I liked the way it felt. “He did hit
it hard, though. If my leg were a baseball, it would have been over the center field wall.”

“Let's rest,” she said gently. “Oh. And, by the way—thanks, Jack.”

“For what?” I said.

“For your bravery,” she replied. “You really took one for the team.”

My temperature shot up about ten degrees.

“Um, I don't want to spoil your magic moment, but we have to move.” Cass fumbled around in his pocket and pulled out the shard of the Loculus of Healing. Squatting next to Aly, he wrapped his hand around my ankle, pressing the shard into my skin.

“No! Cass!” I cried, pulling my leg away. “Save it. Look, we've missed our chance with the Massa and we don't know when we'll see them again. Let's save the shard.”

I stood and balanced my weight from leg to leg. It hurt, but I knew I could make it.

“You sure?” Aly said, and I nodded.

We began trudging to the church again. My ankle throbbed, but the pain seemed to get better the more I walked. “One thing—let's all promise to stay healthy from now on,” I said. “So we don't use that thing up any faster than we have to.”

Aly and Cass both grunted in agreement.

For all the good it will do us
, I did not say.

Sleeping isn't easy when the saints are staring at you.

The little church had white stucco walls. In it were a few rows of pews, a small altar made of polished wood, and a hard marble floor.

Plus gigantic paintings in brilliant reds and golds that were so realistic it felt like you were being judged from all directions.

Somehow Cass and Aly had nodded off, but I was wired.

I looked at my watch. It had been nearly an hour since I'd texted Dad. Where was he?

Outside the sun had risen. The air was cool and crisp. I scanned the horizon but it was completely still.

Taking out my phone, I tapped out a quick message:

It didn't take long for the reply: