Island of Fire

by Lisa McMann

  “He said Clairrre’s alive. She’s in his house, locked in the pantrrry.”

  Meghan’s hand went to her mouth and Alex’s jaw dropped. “She is? Is he sure?”

  “He hearrrd Eva Fathom talk about herrr just yesterrrday. Therrre are two guarrrds, sometimes thrrree, in the house at all times.” Simber’s stone face was earnest. “If you use the tube and yourrr spells, you may be able to surrrprrrise them.”

  Alex pressed his lips together. “If we . . . but the tube—it’s all numbers. I don’t know which button to press, and I don’t know—”

  “It’s numberrr one to Haluki’s office,” Simber said in a low voice. “I know that much from Marrrcus. Two of you could go togetherrr in the tube if you can fit. That would . . . that would be the best way, I think.”

  Alex looked hard at Simber. “You’re serious.”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” Alex sighed a heavy sigh and squeezed his eyes shut. “Sorry,” he said. “Of course we need to go. We need to go now. Let me just, ah, get some components, and then Meg . . . are you up for it?”

  Meghan’s eyebrows shot up. She shook her head, pointing to her neck.

  “She can’t use verrrbal components,” Simber translated, though Alex didn’t really need him too—he’d just forgotten for a moment.

  “Okay, well . . . who from this group?” Alex muttered, peeking around the corner of the doorway and scanning the crowd. He didn’t really know very many of the adults well, and he didn’t trust the ones he knew to be great at magic since they’d never had to use it for defense until recently. He turned back to Simber and whispered, “Or is there anybody else who can get into this stupid hallway?”

  “Perrrhaps Octavia,” Simber began. “But she’s . . . ”

  Meghan frowned, shaking her head, and then she turned Alex around by the shoulders and pointed to someone.

  “Who?” Alex asked.

  She pointed especially hard, and Alex followed her finger. “Henry? Are you kidding?”

  Meghan rolled her eyes and looked at Simber.

  Simber spoke. “It’s a good choice.”

  “He’s a little kid! Hasn’t he been through enough?”

  “It’s his house. Think, Alex.”

  Alex thought. And then he said, “Oooh. He’ll know his way around. Places to hide. And how to find the pantry.”

  “And he’s small enough to fit in the tube with you, so you can attack togetherrr rrratherrr than one at a time.”

  Alex thought about that, too. He thought about how well Henry picked up the spells even though he’d only been in Artimé for a short time. The kid was levelheaded and smart, sure. And he was quick. But . . . Alex cringed. “What if something happens to him? I mean . . . ” He thought of Lani and nearly lost his composure.

  Simber looked at the floor. “I know. But he’s the best choice. And we need her.” He glanced at Meghan. “We need Clairrre. She’s morrre than a frrriend. She’s . . . like family. To me, that is, now that . . . ” Simber growled sharply to clear his throat, causing many of the Unwanteds in the hall to cast a nervous glance in the direction of the kitchenette.

  Meghan gave Alex an imploring look.

  Alex gazed from one face to the other and closed his eyes wearily. “Okay.”

  While Simber spoke with Henry, Alex ran out of the secret hallway and into the boys’ hallway to his room to collect as many components as his now-tattered vest could hold. It was strange to be back in his comfy quarters again. He yearned for a nap in his bed.

  “What happened to you?” Alex’s blackboard, Clive, sneered as if he’d just seen him this morning.

  “Nothing,” Alex said. “Just . . . I’ll tell you everything someday.” He grabbed handfuls of origami dragons, scatterclips, balls of clay for shackles, and blinding highlighters, and stuffed them into his pockets. He paused, looking at the little pile of heart attack components, so simple and innocent. He grabbed them, his face twisting into a grimace. He hesitated, and then he tossed them into a drawer and slammed it shut. “Never again,” he muttered.

  As he rushed out the door, he heard the old familiar words ring out from Clive: “Don’t die!”

  Nasty Places

  Alex met Henry at the tube in the kitchenette. Henry’s lashes were still wet from crying when he couldn’t go with his father, but the tears had stopped and his eyes held an eager look now.

  “Here,” Alex said, handing him some components. “Do you know how to use all these?”

  Henry looked them over carefully. “Yes,” he said. He sounded more sure of himself than Alex felt.

  “Do you know what room of your house the tube is in?”

  “It’s in my father’s office,” Henry said. “End of the hall.”

  Alex nodded, and the two strategized. When they had their plan together, they stepped into the tube. Alex gave Meghan a reassuring smile that didn’t come from any sort of confidence within himself, but she looked relieved to see it.

  Alex regarded the tube’s strange numbers-only blackboard and hesitated. He glanced at Simber. “How will we know which button to press to get back here?” he asked.

  “I don’t know forrr surrre,” Simber said. “Marrrcus never spoke of that one. But I think that tube in Haluki’s office only comes herrre to Arrrtimé, so therrre should only be one option.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Alex muttered. He looked down at Henry. “Ready?”

  Henry nodded. They each gripped components in their hands.

  “Here we go,” Alex said. He pushed the button with his elbow and the two boys disappeared.

  In a blink, they were cast into darkness that didn’t lighten again.

  “Where are we?” Alex whispered after a time.

  “Inside a closet. The door’s closed.”

  “Oh.” Alex reached outside the tube and felt the door, moving his hand across it to get his bearings, trying to find a handle, but there was none. A line of light ran across the bottom and up the center of the closet, indicating there was a double door. “Which direction is the hallway?” he whispered.

  “Straight ahead about ten or twelve feet.”

  “Okay.” Alex took a deep breath. “Components ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  Alex pushed on the door. It didn’t budge. He pushed again with both hands this time, and then with his shoulder, hard. Still nothing. He frowned in the dark. “It’s stuck.” He ran his hand up and pricked his finger on a nail, but he didn’t make a sound. He found several more nail points along the top edge. He almost told Henry that it was nailed shut, but then he thought about it and decided Henry didn’t need to know that right now. “We’re going to have to make noise. No voices, though, okay? Just pounding. We want them to think it’s your dad. On the count of four.”

  “Okay.”

  Alex counted off, and they both began pounding on the door, though not too hard, since Haluki was weak. Nothing happened. Alex hoped the captors hadn’t discovered that Haluki was gone already. Maybe that was why the door was nailed shut.

  “Again,” Alex whispered, and they pounded once more.

  This time they were rewarded with footsteps.

  “Knock it off!” said a woman. She sounded grumpy.

  Alex started knocking again, too afraid to cue Henry this time.

  “All right,” the woman muttered. “Liam, bring the crowbar. We’ll do Haluki’s break now. He’s . . . noisy.” Her words trailed off, her voice weary.

  A few minutes later, Alex and Henry could hear the crack and squeak of nails being pulled through wood. Alex squeezed Henry’s shoulder and bent down to whisper in his ear when the noise continued. “You take the right side, I’ve got the left. Spells ready?”

  Henry nodded.

  When the door swung open, the two boys jumped out, yelling, “Attack left!” and “Attack right!” to their origami dragons, and while they squinted to get their pupils used to the bright light, the fire-breathing dragons nearly scared the two guards to death. It was l
ong enough to keep them distracted while Alex and Henry focused and aimed highlighters at the two. Both found their mark, blinding the shrieking guards.

  Before the Quillans understood what was happening, Alex and Henry grabbed scatterclips and fired them, sticking the guards to the walls by their clothing, and pelted the two with the clay bits, shackling them. Finally Alex uttered a silence soliloquy, and their work was done. Alex inspected their handiwork as the two struggled. Then Alex nodded at Henry. “Lead the way,” he said. “Be ready to attack.”

  Henry set off, trying very hard not to chatter on about the house or stop to show Alex the bedroom that had been his when he lived there, though he was tempted. He peered around the corner into the kitchen. Seeing no one, he continued to the pantry, Alex at his heels.

  “Guard me,” Alex said. Henry stood ready with his components, turning this way and that at the slightest imagined noise. Alex reached out for the pantry door and turned the knob.

  The First Rescue

  Whenever Claire Morning heard the voices of Liam and Bethesda in conversation, it reminded her that she was still alive, and that maybe someday, if she could just get her strength back, she’d be able to break out of here. She didn’t blame anyone for not coming to find her—how could they possibly know where she was? And she could only imagine what the Artiméans were dealing with . . . if any of them were still alive. For all she knew, Aaron could have killed them all.

  The voices Claire was hearing now seemed different. There was some sort of ruckus going on, she could tell, and she hoped something horrible hadn’t happened to Gunnar. But she could barely lift her head to rouse herself completely. Whatever was happening, it would happen without her.

  Or so she thought until the pantry door swung open, blinding her with light. She turned her face toward the towering shadow, but she couldn’t focus. And with the gag in her mouth, she couldn’t speak.

  The figure gasped. “Ms. Morning,” he said, which puzzled her. Liam had always called her Claire.

  Soon her gag was off her numb wrists and ankles untied, and the figure lifted her to her feet. “Can you stand?” he whispered.

  Claire nodded, but her legs buckled.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” the figure said, and he hoisted her off the ground, over his shoulder.

  Claire opened her eyes a slit, letting the painful light in.

  “It’s Alex,” the figure said. “And Henry Haluki. We came to take you home.”

  Relief flooded through Claire’s weak body, and she closed her eyes again as Alex directed Henry to lead the way.

  “Give the guards another dose from the highlighters and silence spells. All three of us can’t fit inside the tube at once, so you go first to let Simber know we’re coming,” Alex said to Henry, who did exactly as he was told.

  When Henry was gone, Alex turned to the shackled, blind Liam and Bethesda, and said in a measured voice, “I’m sure someone will come along eventually for you. But even if they don’t, you won’t suffer any worse than what you’ve put these people through.” He maneuvered his way into the tube, careful not to bump Claire’s head against the glass as he squeezed into the space with her, and gave the guards one last hard look. In the voice of a man, he spoke with a measured tone. “If you ever dare show your faces in Artimé, I will not be so kind as to allow you to leave it alive.”

  With that, he pressed the only button on the blackboard, and in the blink of an eye, Alex, still carrying Ms. Morning, stepped out of the tube into Mr. Today’s kitchenette. He moved swiftly to the hallway, where scores of Artiméans parted to allow them to pass.

  “They’rrre expecting you,” Simber said. “You take herrr. I’ll stay herrre until we’ve got time to sorrrt out this mess.”

  Alex looked at him in surprise, but then nodded. He hurried down the hall, stopping at the Museum of Large. “Meghan?” he called out, and she came to his side. He adjusted the limp body of Ms. Morning and whispered the words that reopened the door. Then he turned back to Meghan. “See if you can find a spell in the museum library that will open this hallway for everyone.”

  Meghan nodded, going inside as Alex and Ms. Morning disappeared through the wall that for now held the rest of them prisoner.

  Alex glided down the stairs, surprised that his strength hadn’t given out yet, but Ms. Morning was not very heavy, and truth be told, Alex had probably bulked up just a bit in the past several weeks from the constant hard labor. Or maybe it was simply adrenaline.

  So many thoughts swirled through his mind as he rushed into the hospital wing and set Ms. Morning down on the bed that was prepared and awaiting her. The nurses swarmed around the beloved instructor, pushing Alex back. He moved willingly to the doorway to stay out of their way as they worked, and with a chance to breathe, Alex finally let his mind go. He leaned his head against the wall and watched, unseeing, the actions before him as his brain sorted out every option he could think of to free the Unwanteds from the secret hallway.

  The Second Rescue

  As he stood watching the hospital workers and thinking about the trapped people, Alex realized that the very last thing he wanted to do was shut Artimé down again, even if he could figure out how to do it. It would most assuredly free them, but no one wanted to go back to that desolate world, not even for a second, now that they had Artimé back. What if the restore spell didn’t work next time?

  Alex could take the trapped people through the tube to Haluki’s house one at a time and then walk back to Artimé from there. But that would be dangerous, most certainly arousing suspicion and attracting unwanted attention in Quill.

  There was always a chance that Meghan would find a spell. But Alex wasn’t feeling it—he was doubtful a spell existed, as access to the secret hallway seemed as random as the color patterns of Mr. Today’s robes.

  Alex could allow them to try to break through the wall, but their strongest Artiméans, Simber and Florence, couldn’t help with that—they’d go right through it without disturbing so much as a piece of dust. This was an option, but not a nice one. He couldn’t really imagine what that would mean for the wall, or for the secret hallway’s secrets in the future.

  He closed his eyes and wished for the millionth time that Lani and Samheed were there to help him. Alex was so anxious to find them now that he had better means to do so, but he had to get everything under control here first before he could do anything else. He thought about Sky and smiled a little, knowing she’d be reminding him to breathe right now. He took a deep breath and let it out, listening to the soothing voices of the men and women who were caring for Gunnar Haluki and Ms. Morning. He wondered if there was any other way to get the trapped Artiméans out of there. If only he’d had more time with Mr. Today. His face burned when he thought of the years of learning he should have had. But he’d been robbed of that, and Aaron was the thief.

  Alex opened his eyes when a young man he didn’t know touched his arm and handed him a cup of cider.

  “Thank you,” Alex said. He drank it down. Nothing had tasted better in all his life.

  “We’re all grateful, Alex,” the man said in a low voice. “Things were rough, but Mr. Today clearly made the right choice with you. I’m sorry some folks lost hope.” He turned and went on with his duties, leaving Alex to return to his problem solving.

  After a while, Alex slipped through the mansion, checking on things, making sure nothing else was falling apart, and remarkably everything was under control. Florence patrolled the dining hall, where many of the Artiméans sat and ate. It was good to hear their happy voices again. He caught Florence’s eye and they exchanged the steady, solemn gaze of comrades. It would take time for the creatures and statues to come to terms with the news. Alex nodded and lifted his hand to her. They would talk later.

  He walked around to the other side of the mansion to the classrooms, peeking into Ms. Morning’s flawlessly clean music studio, where he’d seen Meghan so many times, singing. . . . A lump grew in his throat, and he vowed to
do everything he could to get Meghan’s beautiful voice back.

  And then he stopped in the most familiar classroom of all, the one where he spent so much time working on his art. Chalks, paints, pencils, brushes, and all the wonderful spells that went with them. It was too bad he couldn’t draw a way out of the secret hallway, he thought.

  And then he froze. His eyes opened wide and he groaned as he slapped his forehead. “That’s it!” he cried. He whirled around and ran through the mansion, looking in every room, in every hall, in every corner. And then he sped outside and turned this way and that, until finally he spied his beloved instructor at the shore. He sprinted to her.

  “Ms. Octavia,” he said, breathless as he reached her, and then he stopped short. Her glasses were askew, eyes red. She’d been crying into the water as gentle waves licked her tentacles, and Alex remembered how Mr. Today had created her—she came from the sea, he’d said. Alex’s heart surged, knowing what loss she was feeling. “It’s very hard, isn’t it?” he said.

  “Indeed it is,” the octogator said, drawing a dry tentacle across her snout to catch the tears. “It feels a bit like my soul has been torn away. Like perhaps I shouldn’t exist without him.”

  Alex remained quiet. Nothing he could say was important enough to stand next to her words, for she, like all creatures and statues, had something from Mr. Today that he did not, and that was life itself. Instead of trying to pretend that he knew how she felt, he peered out over the waves and waited.

  After a time, Ms. Octavia cleared her throat and inhaled a large, reverberating sniff. She turned to Alex. “Now then,” she said, not quite in her regular, stern voice, but almost. “How can I help you, my dear boy?”

  Alex regarded her with a solemn look, wondering if she were up to the task but knowing it would take him days, even weeks, and they couldn’t afford that kind of time. He had no choice but to ask. “Ms. Octavia, for reasons I don’t have time to explain right now, there are upward of fifty Unwanteds trapped in Mr. Today’s secret hallway, and they can’t get out. How quickly can you make a 3-D door?”