Traps and Specters (8 page)

Beside Mr. Darby was Tank, the biggest, toughest, and one of the kindest men Noah had ever known. Standing close to seven feet, his entire body was a collection of muscles; they bulged like bendable balloons tied in knots. He had dark skin and a shiny bald head and stood with his arms crossed and the corners of his lips curled down. Like Mr. Darby, he was strictly business today.

Around the two of them were some of the animals assigned to the scouts' crosstraining. Blizzard, a mighty polar bear with a back long and strong enough to simultaneously carry all the scouts. Little Bighorn, a rhinoceros with a bad temper and a knack for barreling through walls. Podgy, an emperor penguin who'd learned to fly. And Marlo, a thumb-size malachite kingfisher assigned to carry messages between the scouts and a few people in the Secret Zoo.

Blizzard nudged Noah with his heavy snout, nearly knocking him over. Marlo touched down on his shoulder and chirped. Ko leaned over and sniffed curiously at Little Bighorn.

To Solana, Mr. Darby asked, “How much time until the scouts must find their way home?”

“About a half hour, I guess.”

“Good,” Mr. Darby said. “Then please follow me. We need a comfortable place to discuss some things.” He turned and started walking, his long trench coat dragging colorful leaves across the street.

“Uh-oh,” Ella said as she hoisted Ko up on her back. “When you start talking about comfortable places to talk, it usually means you have something
un
comfortable to say.”

“Indeed I do,” Mr. Darby said. “Indeed I do.”

CHAPTER 11

T
he scouts followed Mr. Darby past a tall brick building with a banner reading “Sector 98—Platypus Playground” to an open-walled wooden hut. Beneath a thatched roof were three circles of pillowy chairs, and Mr. Darby, with a sweep of his arm, invited the scouts to sit down. As Ella took a seat beside Richie, Ko jumped to the wide back of her chair, cradling it like a limb of a eucalyptus tree.

Noah watched a group of platypuses enter the City of Species from Platypus Playground. They had streamlined bodies and strange, rubbery bills that reminded Noah of giant shoehorns. One stepped into the hut, dragging its beaverlike tail and slapping the ground with its webbed feet.

Richie's flashy running shoes caught the interest of the odd animal, which wandered over and sniffed at them, its bill swinging like a pinball flipper. When the platypus lifted its front feet up onto Richie's shins, Richie flinched and pulled back, burying the greater part of his torso in the deep cushions of the chair.

Solana said, “He wants you to pet him.”

Richie eyes were wide, his lips pinched tight. “With … with my
hand
?”

“No …” Ella said. “With your
butt
.”

Richie slowly reached out. He touched the platypus's head with two fingers and quickly pulled his arm back.

“There,” he said to the platypus while wiping his hand on his zoo uniform. “Now, go away. Shoo.”

The platypus jumped down and hurried off, both ends of its body—its bill and its tail—swinging in a similar way.

Everyone else took a seat except for Tank, who stood behind Mr. Darby and Solana, his beefy arms crossed over his beefy chest. Next to Richie was an empty chair, but when Richie motioned for Tank to sit in it, the big man waved off the invitation. Mr. Darby adjusted his sunglasses, cleared his throat with an attention-getting rumble, and turned to Ella. “DeGraff,” he said as he leaned forward in his chair. “Tell me what happened.”

Ella recounted the story—the tap on her window, DeGraff standing in her front yard, the prairie dogs jumping onto him, and finally his escape. Mr. Darby didn't interrupt once. At one point a frown found his face; at another he began to rub his temples. When Ella was done talking, he turned to Tank and the two communicated something serious with their eyes.

“He's coming for us,” Mr. Darby said at last. “For the first time since we drove him out of the Secret Zoo—the Shadowist is coming.”

The idea forced everyone into silence. The only sounds came from the animal traffic along the city streets—grunts and hisses and clomping hooves. Just outside the hut, leaves continue to fall from the heights like rain.

“Can we stop him?” Noah heard himself say. He'd never meant to speak—the words seemed to push out of him.

Mr. Darby rubbed the back of his neck in a worried way. “We have prepared for this for more than eighty years—our Crossers, our Descenders, our perimeter patrols. We knew this day might come, and we are ready. But …” The old man's voice trailed off. He seemed to lack the courage to say more.

“But what?” Noah asked.

Mr. Darby kept quiet. He combed his fingers through his bushy beard and then stroked some wrinkles out of his velvet jacket. Finally, he said, “DeGraff is a man … a
half
man … a
creature
that can drift in and out of the shadows. As he gets closer to the zoo, his magic only grows.” He stopped, glanced at Tank, then turned his head to stare out at the City of Species. “How do we stop a thing like that?”

“You capture him!” Noah spat out. “We get to him before he can get to the shadows.”

“The shadows are everywhere.”

“But DeGraff can only use his magic in the deepest ones. We just need to grab him while he's still in the light. The moonlight—that's enough light, right?”

Mr. Darby continued to stare out at his beloved city in a contemplative way. “There is much we don't know.” His voice was quiet, reserved. All of his usual animation was gone, and Noah hated the way he looked so defeated.

Megan spoke next: “Then we step up our efforts!”

Mr. Darby turned back to the group and forced his frown flat. “Exactly what we intend to do.” He paused for a few seconds, then went on. “Because you're members of our Secret Society—and especially because you live in the neighborhood around the Clarksville Zoo—I feel you have a right to know something.” He leaned toward the four friends and announced, “We're sending more Descenders into the outside world.”

Everyone became quiet again. Then Noah turned back to Mr. Darby and said, “But how? You can't have a bunch of teenagers guarding the zoo all night!”

“You can if no one sees them.”

The scouts traded confused looks.

“Mr. Darby,” Ella said. “You guys might be able to hide tarsiers in the trees, but hiding one of these guys”—Ella pointed to Solana—“is
not
going to be so easy.”

A smile found the old man's lips. “No? Then, please … tell me how many Descenders you see. In this hut, right now, with us.”

The scouts looked around.

“One,” Noah said. “Solana.”

“You're certain?”

The scouts glanced around again. Ella stared at the rafters, and Richie peered beneath his chair.

“Just Solana,” Noah repeated.

Mr. Darby turned to Tank, and the two men smiled.

Tank said, “Looks like it's going to work, Mr. D.”

The scouts just sat there, confused.

After a few seconds, Ella said, “Uhhh … you guys have peanut butter and crazy sandwiches for lunch?”

“Look more closely,” Mr. Darby said. “At the chairs. Look at the one beside Richie. Don't see what's there—see what
isn't
there.”

Noah looked at the empty chair next to his friend. It had a high, arched back and bulged with thick padding. The fabric had swirling designs.

Noah said, “Mr. Darby … what are you getting at? I don't see anything.”

“That's precisely the point.”

Noah squinted toward the chair. Again he saw the height of its back, the rounded swell of the armrests, the—

His thoughts stopped. A depression in the seat cushion had just shifted.

See what isn't there
, Mr. Darby had said.

He realized something. The air above the seat was moving, as if a faint fog hovered just above the cushions. Then the movement stopped.

“Did you see?” Mr. Darby said.

Still squinting, Noah said, “I saw …
something
.”

“See it again.”

Richie was looking between Noah and the empty chair beside him. “Uhhh … what are you guys talking about?” He nervously leaned toward Ella. From the high back of Ella's chair, Ko poked her snout toward Richie and sniffed the jittery pom-pom on his hat.

“I'm with Richie this time,” Ella said. “You two are
totally
freaking me out.”

Noah paid little mind to his friends. He kept focused on the chair—the space above its seat cushion. He saw nothing for a few seconds. Then, halfway up the back of the chair, something in the air made the colors and patterns in the cushion's fabric move.

“Did you see?” Mr. Darby asked.

Noah didn't move his eyes. “Yes.”

Now everyone was staring intensely at the space, even Ko. They were watching and waiting.

Seconds passed. New movement appeared at the base of the chair, almost at the ground.

“I saw it,” Megan said.

“Me, too,” said Ella.

“Saw what?” asked Richie. He was leaning so far away from the mysterious chair that he was almost horizontal, his head nearly on Ella's legs.

Another whirl of movement, this time at the forward edge of the seat cushion, in the place someone's knees would be. As quickly as it came, it left.

“Saw it,” Noah said.

“Keep watching,” instructed Mr. Darby.

Something appeared along the high back of the chair. A speck of white. What first looked like a small ball revealed itself as something else. An eye. A human eye surrounded by a patch of light skin. Seeming to hover in space, the eye was staring back at everyone else.

Richie yelped and flipped over his armrest, landing in Ella's lap before rolling to the floor.

The eye blinked once, twice. Then it was gone again. Noah watched as the seat cushions swelled back to their normal shape. It was as if someone had risen out of the chair.

In front of the chair, the air moved. Then again, this time farther away. And again, farther still. It was certain, now—something had risen out of the seat and was advancing toward Mr. Darby and Tank.

“What is it?” Megan asked.

New spots of movement suddenly began to appear above and below one another. The areas expanded and joined, and the once-shapeless thing began to take form. Arms, legs, torso. A ghostly human that Noah could see clear through.

“Come meet the scouts,” Mr. Darby said to the thing taking shape.

A small piece of the developing figure broke free and fell to the ground. Then another piece, and another. As the fragments hit the floor, they came into view, filling with color and contour. Noah could barely believe his eyes. Chameleons. They skittered across the wooden planks.

“No way,” Megan gasped.

More and more chameleons began to rain down. They had beady eyes and knobby heads. A few had horns. And they were all colors: green with blue stripes, teal with brown dots, even full rainbows in speckled patterns. They fell like chunks of snow from a melting snowman. The details of the person began to appear: the fair skin of a hand, the shoulder of a white shirt, a green pants leg.