by D P Rowell
The jag deputies stepped forth, grabbing his attention again. “Why don’t you come with us, kids?” said the one on the right.
Juneg snapped her arm free of Ace’s grip and turned around. “I be fine,” she said, “good luck with Marcus. And get me an autograph if you can!” She winked. Ace went to grab her again, but she'd already dashed away. The crowd gasped and one of the officers went running after her. She ran up the stairs to the left, then turned and jumped over the ledge. She hopped off each wall, landed perfectly on the ground, and ran into the stadium before anyone could react.
“After her!” Inan yelled. One of the guards rushed outside to chase her. Inan and the other security guard turned and slowly walked towards them. The guard pulled his plasma blaster and aimed it at them.
Cameron and Ace slowly backed up.
Great Juneg, Ace thought. A lot of good that did.
“Any plans?” Ace said.
Cameron shook his head. “Was hoping you had one.”
Ace sighed. “I do. But you’re not gonna like it.”
Cameron placed his hand on Ace’s shoulder. “We’re kinda out of options.”
“Hey!” The other guard said, “Put your hands up now!”
The tournament crowd had now stopped watching the game entirely and were solely focused on the fuss they were causing. The deputy and Inan took a closer step. Ace and the red drake stared at each other a moment. Their eyes shared a story. Without having to say anything, Inan’s diamond pupils grew big and he snarled.
You’re the Elyrian, Inan spoke in Ace’s thoughts. My, the darkness has offered me a gift today and hand delivered you to me.
So much for not attracting attention. Ace's nose twitched as the smell of smoke crept through the air. Inan wasn't even trying to keep his disguise. What else was Ace to do? Get taken by the Naraka police and reveal the Elyrian had shown up in The Neutrals? The drake parcel was already going to spread the message to the council. However, he wouldn’t use magic in front of everyone. Ace had to take advantage of it.
Ace contemplated all his options.
There were none.
“Jump,” Ace whispered.
“What?” Cameron said.
Ace turned behind and leaped over the railing. He landed promptly and bent his knees to soften the impact. Cameron caught on, for he landed just behind him. Ace and Cameron pulled out their AMBs.
“Go get Uncle Marcus,” Cameron said. “I’ll distract the guards.”
Ace nodded. Cameron took off along the alley leading toward the court. Security officers flooded in. The crowds went crazy. The basketball game stopped, and Ace waited patiently for the right moment.
Cameron fought his way through the crowds and fired a few anti-magic shots in the ceiling. Panic filled the air and the crowd scattered in fear. Ace kept his eyes about the chaos. Jags, drakes, and humans stumbled over each other, screaming and crying. Ace’s heart dropped to his gut. He cracked his knuckles and bent his knees, ready to bolt.
A moment later a path formed before him as the crowd split, revealing a clear visual to the court. Time to move. His knees clenched, and his body went rigid. He tried to run forward but something held him back. He winced and glared forward to find Uncle Marcus, eyeing him wickedly from court. The parcel had him before he had a chance.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Red Door
Uncle Marcus remained still and calm as the stadium crowd fled and officers swarmed in. Ace caught a glimpse, from his peripherals, of Cameron getting tackled by a few of the guards and rolling onto the court. Ace and Uncle Marcus stared at each other. The parcel’s face grew dark and wickedly joyous. Ace fought his rigidness, tensing every muscle in his body. He clenched and squeezed; moaned and groaned. His body went nowhere. He closed his eyes and tried to bring the Light forth. Nothing happened. Where had his elyr gone? Panic surged through his body.
Uncle Marcus laughed inaudibly from across the stadium and stepped closer. This couldn’t be it. Ace had done everything he could to find and save the Peppercorns. Was it all going to be in vain? The stadium had all but emptied. A few basketball players, Marcus’ coach, and the security guards, were the only ones remaining. Were they all parcels? Why else would Uncle Marcus use magic in front of them?
Ace’s uncle stepped closer still, now about halfway to him. Ace stopped his fighting. Obviously wasn’t working. His eyes shot up to find Inan leaping down next to him. The red drake glanced him over with a wicked smile. He turned around and caught eyes with Uncle Marcus. The parcels exchanged dialogue in thought and Ace heard it all.
Back away, Inan, he’s mine
Just because you’re related doesn’t mean you get the privilege of turning him over. He’s been under your watch for years and you never knew who he was. Shame on you.
You know very well why he belongs to me, Inan. You don’t have the authority to undermine me. Leave us be now and I won’t bring this to the attention of the council.
Inan growled at Uncle Marcus. He turned to Ace and sniffed him a few times.
Just as well, Inan said in Ace’s head, you reek of the Peppercorn’s failure. The drake leaped back up to the ledge with ease and fled the scene.
Ace eyed his uncle who stepped closer with a straight mouth. There had to be a way to escape this! Whatever happened to his elyr, there had to be a way to get it back. Ace closed his eyes.
Think, think, think.
What prompted him to do good? Kareena passed through his mind. They had last left each other on not the best of terms. Nothing happened. Grandpa. Cameron . . . The Peppercorns.
The Peppercorns.
Ace pictured Julie and Tamara bound next to Rio on the screen the night Sebastian captured him. His body filled with rage. He opened his eyes with a yell and the Light came forth from his palms. He thrust the flames on his body and broke the spell of paralysis. He motioned toward Uncle Marcus, who had now stopped at the middle of the court; a dazed look in his eyes.
Ace half grinned and darted after the parcel. He pulled his AMB and shot at a few of the security guards running after him. Uncle Marcus thrust his hands forth, but Ace sent a wave of Light before him and broke the spell before it could reach him. The fight was on. Ace leaped skyward. Something caught him in the air and he fell and rolled along the court. He groaned as he stood. Somehow Marcus’ magic had caught him midair. He wiped a trickle of blood from his lip and ignored the throbbing in his knees. Two jag basketball players, one human coach, and Uncle Marcus stood before him. Several security guards around them save the two which held down Cameron to the right.
“You’ve all been duped by Marcus,” Ace said. “He’s deceiving you all.”
All of them laughed together.
Uncle Marcus stepped closer. “These are my colleagues, Ace. Not my slaves. And they know exactly who I am.”
They all chuckled.
Uncle Marcus stepped forward, he traced around Ace in circles. “Actually, my slaves are in a good place right now. Far away from any chance to take them away from me.”
Julie and Tamara! Ace’s blood boiled and his skin crawled.
“They will never be found,” Uncle Marcus said. “Especially not by a washed up elyrian.”
Ace’s eyes widened. Washed up? He stepped back with a yell and thrust a great wave of the elyr towards Marcus. But only a small spec of the Light left his hands. Uncle Marcus stood before him, smiling wickedly. Ace’s heart dropped to his gut. He tried to call the Light once more. Nothing.
Uncle Marcus stepped toward the boy and leaned in until they were nose-to-nose.
“Blocked, are we?” he said.
Before Ace could say anything, Uncle Marcus’ hand lifted in the sky. The wave of magic slapped Ace and he lost his consciousness.
Ace woke to the sound of creaking pipes. His head felt as if it were going to explode with every beat of his heart. He groaned as he lifted himself from lying on the concrete floor.
“Ace, you’re awake!” Cameron said. His older
brother rushed to his side and helped him sit up. He rested his back against a stone wall. He noticed their clothes were torn and stained. Both in their casual jeans and t-shirts. But none of their hunting gear. He looked around to find himself surrounded by four stone walls of a muddy color and a white concrete floor covered in dirt and grime. Above him was a ceiling of rusty pipes and one recess light, leaving a spotlight of light yellow in the middle of the concrete floor. One dark red door stood before them, but there were no windows. It was the cellar all over again.
“Where are we?” Ace said as he rubbed his head.
Cameron sat next to Ace, both of their backs leaning against the wall and facing the door.
“I don’t know,” Cameron said. “Uncle Marcus cast some kind of spell on me and I passed out. I woke up just a second before you did.”
Ace marinated in his weakness and exhaustion. For a moment they both sat silently as the pipes above them moaned. He had been captured by Marcus Peppercorn. He had lost his elyrian abilities. They had made no progress in recruiting or building the Israh. The weight of it all crushed him. The darkness was winning. It was winning because Ace wasn’t cut out for this. He let the Peppercorns get captured and he couldn’t even take on a minor parcel. How was he supposed to face Rio? All Yutara was going to fall because of him.
“I’m sorry, Cameron,” Ace said.
“For what?” Cameron said.
“Everything . . . it’s all my fault.”
Cameron scooted closer. “Don’t say that. It’s not your fault. It’s the witches’ fault. It’s the council’s fault.”
Ace shook his head. “You said so yourself. If I hadn’t let the Peppercorns get captured in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Cameron sighed and hung his head. “It was wrong of me to say that, okay? I was just angry and scared, and I took it out on you.”
“You were right, though.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Yea, you were. To be honest, when I first heard I had to save the Peppercorns, I turned away from it. I told myself I wouldn’t do it in a million years. Even if it meant losing Yutara to darkness. It’s because I was so stupid, so hesitant to forgive them for—” Ace paused a moment and buried his head in his hands. “For losing Mom. It’s because I was so selfish. If I had gotten over it sooner and done something to help save them, I could’ve avoided this. It’s my fault. I wasn’t built to be an elyrian. I’m too terrible a person.”
Cameron wrapped his arm around Ace.
“If you could only hear yourself right now,” Cameron said, “Ace, I’ve been trying to get you to talk about Mom and the Peppercorns for years now. You’ve just openly admitted, out loud, that you should have forgiven them earlier. Listen, bro, whatever this Light is . . . this elyr . . . it’s definitely working. I don’t know why things have turned out this way, but we’re gonna make it through. We’re gonna figure it out.”
Ace smiled weakly and nodded. His heart grew full at Cameron’s words. But inside, he didn’t quite believe them. The real Elyrian wouldn’t have messed up this bad.
A loud creak caused them to turn their heads. The red door burst open and slammed against the stone wall. One of the jag security guards from the game stepped inside. The jag marched inside and grabbed Ace by his shirt.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Cameron said. He lunged toward the jag, but the jag thrust Cameron against the wall without breaking a sweat. Ace fought his grip. Scratching and pulling to no avail. Ace’s ankles scratched and chafed as the jag drug him across the floor to the exit. They left the room and the jag slammed the red door shut. The massive creature drug him through a narrow hall of a similar structure. Doors passing them on each side every couple of feet. The jag turned left and opened another red door. He tossed Ace inside; manhandling him.
Ace fell on an elegant, navy blue rug, which burned his cheek. He stumbled a minute and tried to stand, but the jag grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him up by force. The jag sat him in a chair of dark wood, facing a polished, fashionable desk of a great size. The room he sat in was a cylinder. The walls were bookshelves reaching to a dome ceiling. The style reminded him of the room of President Kar’s post-election celebration.
Ace turned his attention to the desk once again. Behind it sat Marcus Peppercorn. The evil uncle swiveled in his chair to face the boy.
“Thank you, Duni,” Marcus said. The jag grunted and left the room. Uncle Marcus stood and walked around to the front of the desk, eyeing Ace the entire time. “Hello, nephew.”
Ace’s weakness submitted to his rage at his uncle’s flaunting tone.
“We have a lot to talk about,” the parcel said.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Spell or Delusion
Ace clenched his fists. Uncle Marcus leaned against the front of the desk. He tapped his finger against the wood and his wedding ring gave a timid knock each time.
“Let’s start with this,” Uncle Marcus said. “How did you escape the cellar in the Indies Headquarters?”
Ace looked strangely to Uncle Marcus but delivered no response.
Uncle Marcus chuckled. “You should know that refusing to comply with me is useless. We’ve already won.”
“Then why have me here at all?” Ace said. “If the council has already settled in its victory so obviously, like all these witches keep saying, then why are you trying so hard to stop me?”
Uncle Marcus knelt down and shoved his nose in Ace’s face. “Because we like to watch you squirm. The Elyrian,” Uncle Marcus mocked as he spoke the words, “thinks he can save Yutara from us? It’s so . . . entertaining . . . to watch you wander aimlessly about Yutara trying to
accomplish something that’s so far beyond your ability to do. We just like to mess with you.”
Ace’s body shook with fury. Uncle Marcus laughed.
“You’re lying,” Ace said softly. “You’re afraid of losing. I can see it in your eyes.”
Uncle Marcus half smiled and stood again, then leaned against his desk. He reached behind him and slid a chrome sphere to his right side. He looked back to Ace.
“How did you escape the Indies?” Marcus said again.
Ace smiled. “The council doesn’t know everything? I thought you guys were everywhere in Yutara.”
Uncle Marcus shook his head slowly and tapped his finger to the chrome sphere. A hologram projection came forth from the sphere. It showed two girls in some dark warehouse. Bound by their hands, feet, mouths, and blindfolded. At the sight of these two girls, Ace instinctively leaped from his chair without a moment to spare.
“Julie! Tamara!” He screamed.
“No, no” Uncle Marcus said. He waved his hand and a force of magic slammed Ace back down to his chair.
What have you done with them? Ace fought with all his might, but the words didn’t come out.
Uncle Marcus responded in thought, You want them back? You start giving me answers.
Ace looked at Julie and Tamara in the dark warehouse. They sat close together and shed timid tears. Ace’s heart shattered. He looked back at Uncle Marcus.
Let me go from this spell, first, Ace thought.
Marcus chuckled and let his hand down. Ace’s body broke free of the spell and he went limp in the chair a moment. He gathered himself and sat straight up.
“How did you escape from the Indies?” Marcus said.
Ace looked at Uncle Marcus and leaned back in his chair. How was he to escape this? He couldn’t tell a parcel about the Israh. But what of the Peppercorns? He had to save them. Ace eyed Marcus menacingly.
“My brother and I,” Ace paused a moment, “We . . . we had some moles in Gathara that helped us escape.”
Uncle Marcus leaned in. “And?”
“And what? That’s it,” Ace said.
Uncle Marcus chuckled. “That’s not it. You expect me to believe a twelve-year-old kid escaped the elite and a city of thousands of hunters with a couple of moles?”
“E
lyrians,” Ace said. “Hunters weren’t trained to fight the elyr.”
“Nice try,” Uncle Marcus said, “Hunters don’t get burned by the elyr.”
“Look, I don’t know what else to tell you, that’s how we escaped. Now let Julie and Tamara go!”
Uncle Marcus sighed. “I’m not done with my questions, nephew.”
“How many questions do you want answered? You aren’t going to release them! You’re just toying with me!” Ace’s veins popped from his neck as he yelled this aloud.
The tall, tan man scratched his chin and giggled. When he placed his hand back on the desk, a trickle of black dust crept out of his sleeve. Ace squinted. “It’s so funny when you get angry,” the parcel said. “You’re powerless, but you still think you can do something.”
Ace sat quietly in his chair, staring at the black dust and soaking in his anger. He didn’t even try to hide it, for Ace already knew he was a parcel. He truly was powerless.
Uncle Marcus leaned close to Ace. “I’ll compromise with you, nephew. Answer this one question, and I’ll give you your precious cousins back.”
Ace responded, his voice somber and quiet, “What do you want?”
“Bree—” Uncle Marcus went to say but his lips twitched. Ace squinted. Marcus' mouth curled three different ways at once. “The stone. The—The Emerson Stone.” Ace leaned his head forward. His uncle's eyes went cold as ice and a vain nearly popped through his neck as he shouted, “Where is it!”
Ace shot up and jolted back. Did Uncle Marcus not know? . . . Wait! He couldn’t think about it. Uncle Marcus could read his thoughts. Ace sifted through his mind, trying not to think of something. Which makes it extremely difficult not to think of something. Why was Uncle Marcus acting like a lunatic when he talked about the Emerson Stone?
Uncle Marcus leaned forward. “Where is it?”
“I . . .” Ace paused. His brow furrowed, and he looked back to his parcel uncle. He couldn’t tell Uncle Marcus what had happened. As long as Uncle Marcus thought he had the stone, Ace was in control. “First,” Ace said, “you give me my cousins back. Then, I will give you the stone.”
