“Did you kill him?” Oliver repeated.
Etienne rolled his eyes. “No, as a matter of fact. I let him live and came directly to this monastery. I entered on the full moon, as you did, and partook in the trials. I succeeded and befriended the former owner, a man by the name of Julien Millepied. He allowed me to stay and learn from him, and then passed the mantle to me when he retired.”
“The French sticking together, eh?” Mr. Abara grinned.
“It didn’t hurt that I was French,” Etienne replied.
Oliver’s hand shot up. “Are you sure you didn’t kill the owner?”
“I didn’t. When I left Mr. Pendragon on that island, I left that life behind me.” Etienne’s voice bristled with annoyance. “I have not killed anyone since, nor do I plan to.”
Is he really a changed man, then? I frowned at him. It was quite the tale, and I didn’t know how much to believe.
Before I could dwell on it further, Etienne opened his arms and declared: “Let the second trial begin.”
He walked to one of the nearby shelves and took down a… gas mask. Pulling it over his face, he twisted knobs fitted into the walls. I’d assumed they fed the kilns, but apparently not. I stiffened as a low hiss drifted across the room, spilling out of grates that ran along the skirting board.
Luke leapt up as if he’d been prodded in the ass with a red-hot poker. He lunged forward to scoop Melody into his arms. She shrieked as he lifted her and sprinted for the door. He yanked on the handle, but it didn’t budge. The twins followed suit, running to the windows to throw them open, without success. The door and the windows were locked, and we were stuck in here with the gas spreading across the floor.
I didn’t budge, though that didn’t mean I wasn’t just as scared as the others. I already knew it would be hopeless trying to escape, or Etienne wouldn’t have had a gas mask handy. We were supposed to be stuck in here, with no way out. This was a trial, after all. If we could run out of it, what would be the point? Etienne would probably mark it as an immediate fail. And none of us wanted that.
“Remain calm and get to work,” Etienne instructed, his voice muffled by the mask. “The gas is not deadly, but it’s a mind-altering poison. You must navigate its effects to cling to reality and craft a vase worthy of putting in the kiln.”
A mind-altering poison? What the hell did that mean? Poison bottles had skulls and crossbones on them for a reason. Poison, by its very nature, was dangerous. So, how could he say it wasn’t? And if it didn’t kill us, what would it do to us?
“Luke, use your Magneton ability on the window locks!” I shouted. He should have more luck than the twins. Running out of here would’ve meant instant disqualification but ventilating this room a bit couldn’t hurt.
Luke turned and pretty much dropped Melody on the floor. He stared at her, like he wasn’t sure what had happened. And then he crumpled into a fit of hysterics. All-out, tears-streaming, gut-wrenching belly laughs. He sank on the ground beside Melody and stared up at the ceiling, forming his hands into puppets and making them talk to each other.
“What do you think, Mr. Whiskers?” he asked his right hand. “Do you think Lukey cheated in the egg and spoon race? They said he did, but he knows he didn’t. He didn’t put his thumb on the egg. Nope, no way. He didn’t do it, did he, Mr. Whiskers?”
I opened my mouth to shout him out of his stupor… when the gas hit me.
Fifteen
Finch
A volcano of giggles spewed every which way. Infectious, the gas left no survivors of its onslaught of hysterics. I’d never seen anything funnier than Luke talking to his puppet hands.
“Mr. Whiskers! Mr. Whiskers! His hand is a cat!” I howled, banging my pottery station so hard that a big lump of clay fell right off and landed with a satisfying slap. That set me off again. Reeling in my chair, I scooped the clay up and dropped it again. Another wet slap echoed through the studio. I couldn’t breathe through my howls of laughter. I picked up and dropped the clay again and again.
“Throw it against the wall! Make it splat!” Melody giggled uncontrollably, unaffected by being dropped like a ball of clay by her supposed bodyguard.
I took the lump and flung it against the wall. It stuck like a jellyfish, and Melody collapsed in a heap, screeching in delight. I sagged against the pottery station, my shoulders shaking violently with laughter.
Oliver toppled right off his stool, which made us all scream. Even the twins held on to each other and wept ecstatic tears, while Blanche sat underneath her pottery table, staring out like an owl. The gas had hit her a little differently. Her eyes darted back and forth as she gripped the table legs, looking like a troll waiting for the Billy Goats Gruff. Mr. Abara had stood in an attempt to escape the gas, only to slide down the wall and sit with his head buried in his knees, his laughter booming louder than anyone else’s.
“Do you remember that unicorn, Fay?” Shailene hiccupped. “Do you remember us chasing it, and then it charged right into a tree and got stuck?”
Fay crumpled into her sister’s shoulder. “It kept trying to wiggle its way out! Remember its butt just wiggling and jiggling?!”
“A twerking unicorn!” I shrieked, banging my fist against the pottery station. Everyone howled in response, all of us useless. My body felt loose and free. Man, it was good to just friggin’ laugh!
“I never went to Nepal!” Oliver cried, wiping tears from his eyes. “I told everyone I was going, then I went on a package holiday to Ibiza, sat on a beach, and drank my weight in watered-down margaritas!”
“You said the guides told you your expertise was too good to climb with the group! And you never even went there!” Shailene exploded in hysterics, setting off a domino effect. I sank to the floor; it was too damn funny to stay on my stool.
“I know!” Oliver roared, slapping his chest.
Luke lifted his puppet hands. “You know what, Mr. Whiskers, you’re right. I did cheat in egg and spoon. I held my thumb over that egg like there was no tomorrow and ran for my life.”
Everyone collapsed.
“Mr. Whiskers never lies.” Melody covered her face, her laughter coming in stifled gasps. “I like Mr. Whiskers. He can stay.”
“Mr. Whiskers is just his hand!” I chimed in, my whole body shaking.
“Then Mr. Whiskers has always been here.” Melody grinned like a loon, reaching out to stroke Luke’s hand. “It’s like that time I found my mom talking to herself. She kept saying, ‘No, you’re the pretty one. You shouldn’t be wasting your time here.’ I thought she was talking to a ghost, but now I think she was just giving herself a pep-talk.”
We all screamed with unbridled joy.
“Hey, we’ve all done it. I give myself a pep-talk every morning,” I shot back, holding my stomach as my ribs started to ache. “I’ll have that six-pack by the end of this! Laughter is the best exercise. Screw your crunches and squats.”
“I like my crunches and squats,” Luke shot back, giggling.
“I bet you do. How else are you going to not fit in your clothes? Seriously, man, you could always buy a size up, you know?” I threw back my head and bashed it on the table, but that only made me laugh harder. Luke, too.
Melody grasped Luke’s hand. “He likes to show off his mus-cules.”
“Mus-cules?” Luke dissolved into a fit.
“You’re too cute for muscles,” Melody explained, curling up in the fetal position as the giggles hit her again.
“I fought for my muscles.” Mr. Abara sobbed into his knees. “Real men don’t squat.”
The laughter began to hurt. “You should put that on a T-shirt!”
“Who says I haven’t?” Mr. Abara shot back.
“You know, I accidentally turned Katherine into a minotaur during one of my ‘lessons’ with her—she had massive, bulging, furry muscles and… and hooves! And she stank like a cattle shed.” I totally lost it. “Man, she beat me so hard, I had to sleep on my stomach for weeks!”
Everyone wh
ooped, clinging to the nearest solid object to bear the brunt of their laughter. Only Blanche remained unaffected, looking around the studio like a startled creature, her neck turning so fast she was in danger of whiplash.
“Hoot for me, Blanche!” I urged.
“What?” the twins chorused, leaning on each other for support.
“She looks like… an owl!” I screeched, wrapping my arms around me.
“She does!” Melody howled, burying her face in Luke’s side.
“What kind of owl do you find in the kitchen?” I couldn’t resist.
Oliver rubbed his eyes on the back of his sleeve. “I don’t know, what kind of owl do you find in the kitchen?”
“A tea t-owl!” I erupted in a violent bout of giggles, and everyone followed suit.
Mr. Abara put up his hand. “What do you call a baby owl swimming?”
“I don’t know, what do you call a baby owl swimming?” I set him up, as any good comic sidekick would.
“A moist owlette!” Mr. Abara bellowed, hugging his knees as he gave in completely to the gas.
Now I understood why the Irish called a good time a “gas.” This was exactly what the doctor ordered. A bonding experience that laid us all bare, reducing us to weeping, laughing lumps.
“A… moist… owlette!” Melody gasped, sounding near death from euphoria.
I looked around the studio at the others, finding them in similar states of disarray. Then, my eyes locked onto a creepy figure in the corner, his head covered by a gas mask. The laughter died on my tongue, replaced by sudden paranoia. I’d forgotten Etienne.
What if he’s trying to kill us? What if there is no trial? What if it’s just death by laughing gas? My eyes widened until I started to feel a bit owl-like myself. I twisted my head this way and that, expecting hidden monks to slither out of the gas and end us all. We were vulnerable. We wouldn’t be able to fight back.
My mouth dried up, the paranoia threatening to suffocate me. I couldn’t get air into my lungs.
Crap, crap, crap… snap out of it! The more I tried to focus, the more clarity slipped away. I wanted the happiness back. I didn’t want paranoia. It shivered through me, twisting everything I saw. The laughing faces of the others turned into manic grimaces, the dream quickly changing to a nightmare.
“Melody, do you know something?” Luke’s voice distracted me. “You are the single most important person in my life. Without you, I’d have no purpose. You’re more than a job to me.”
Melody giggled. “Are you drunk?”
“I don’t think so.” Luke pinched himself, as if that would tell him.
“I can read you, remember?” Melody chuckled. “You try to keep your emotions hidden away, but that only makes them louder.”
“It does?” Luke looked horrified.
Melody nodded. “I try to switch my Empathy off, because it can be invasive, but it’s really hard. That’s why I like being around people like Finch and Blanche, because I can’t feel their emotions at all.”
She turned to look at me. “But, even though I can’t read you, I know you’re a good egg, Finch. I know everything you’ve done—the good, the bad, and the ugly—and this person you’ve become is the best version of yourself you will ever be. You’ve worked so hard. It shows, it really does, no matter how the stories get twisted. Just be careful around Luke—he doesn’t like having competition for the alpha spot.”
She collapsed in another fit of giggles, but Luke didn’t look amused. In fact, he stared at me angrily. Like he’d been hit with the same bout of paranoia that I had.
I’m not going to take your girl. I tried to say it, but the words wouldn’t come. The gas locked my throat in a vise. I couldn’t do anything but sit and stew in my own paranoid juices.
“I lied when I said I’d been on the island this whole time,” Oliver chimed in. It took Luke’s attention from me, which hopefully meant I wouldn’t get blasted in the face by his cute “mus-cules.” “I didn’t get here in time last month, that was true. But I went back to Athens instead of waiting here. I spent too much time there, so I missed the first deadline. I was supposed to be on a European tour, but I ran out of dosh. So, I stole diamonds and conned tourists in Athens to build up my bank account again. I think about those people a lot. I think I ruined some holidays.”
It looked like the effects of the gas had changed from hysterical to introspective, making our truths spill out like the Exxon Valdez disaster, oil spreading everywhere. My paranoia grew each second. I didn’t want my truths spilling out. I’d already told them everything I wanted to.
“Do you remember when we almost got killed by that gargoyle?” Fay glanced at her sister.
Shailene nodded. “You’d think gargoyles would be easy, but they can be slimy little buggers. I still think about those fangs sinking into your neck, sis.”
“Me, too.” Fay fidgeted awkwardly. “I always wonder what it’d be like if we just gave up on this monster-hunting business.”
“We make most of our money from advertising contracts. Energy drinks and stuff, in the magical world.” Shailene rested her head against her sister’s shoulder. “We always talk about giving it up, don’t we?”
Fay nuzzled her sister. “We just want to travel the world and have fun, see what these countries have to offer, instead of jumping from mission to mission. Always on a deadline.”
I know how that feels…
“But we can’t,” Shailene said. “We’ve created these awesome personas, and we’ve got to live up to the hype. If we don’t, we lose the contracts, the money, the lifestyle.”
“Mum and Dad wouldn’t be happy,” Fay said softly.
“Who else will pay for their matching Lambos?” Shailene sighed. The laughter was fading from each person in the room, it seemed.
Mr. Abara had been looking at Oliver. “You stole diamonds, Oliver?”
“I did. I’m sorry for it, but you see these gigantic rocks on people’s fingers, and they’re so easy to take. I needed the cash.” Oliver sank back, swamped with an air of depression.
“I dream of a world without blood diamonds,” Mr. Abara said grimly. “Most of those rocks you speak of—they come drenched in the blood of child soldiers forced to defend the diamond mines of Africa. It’s why I traveled to Sierra Leone in the first place, using the disguise of a military officer. If I had my way, I’d stop it all. No more child soldiers, no more mines, no more rich people buying these stones without knowing where they came from.”
I hadn’t expected Mr. Abara to be a savior type. I hadn’t yet pinpointed what kind of guy he was, and that came out of left field.
“I have seen more death and destruction than you can imagine,” Mr. Abara continued. “I was a military man, hired to oversee the mines. I wear the uniform, even now, but only so I can protect those children. Change comes from the inside, you know? But it hurts me every time one slips through the net. I remember every face.”
“That’s rough,” I said genuinely.
Mr. Abara nodded. “I’m also terrified of mice.” It had no relation to what he’d just said. He just blurted it out, riding the gas wave and following it wherever it went.
“I used to be like you, Oliver, when I was a young’un.” Blanche finally spoke. “I Shapeshifted at carnivals that came through, playing games with cards and cups that ordinary folk could never win. Then I’d Shift back, once they knew they’d been conned. No one ever caught me. A couple of times, I Shifted into sideshow folks—bearded ladies, lobster-handed guys, giant women. I changed into a mermaid a couple of times and conned rich men with a fishy fetish. That was more of a long play, though. I had to meet them on the shore and make up stories about only being able to touch land at midnight. They bought it, and they’d leave me jewelry. A few proposals, too, but I always disappeared before it got too intense.”
Wow… disturbing. I balled my hands into fists and tried to concentrate on reality. Fighting this gas wouldn’t be easy. A gentle hiss told me that it still seeped
in through the grates. I didn’t trust what it was doing to my body. The gas took me farther and farther away from the job: to make a vase and not get killed by Etienne.
“What do you fear most, Finch?” Etienne asked suddenly. Speak of the devil.
I startled, but my addled brain latched onto his question. I tried to push my reply away, but the gas had me by the cajones. I couldn’t refuse.
“I… I’m worried my life will go by before I prove I’ve changed. I have crazy feelings for this girl, but she’s already with someone. It’s as if someone put him through a ‘perfect man’ machine and poured in everything a woman wants. I don’t belong in that picture. I don’t belong with someone like her. That’s my biggest fear, I guess. That I’ll never fit into any picture at all.”
I thought about the photo in my room, everyone neatly paired up. Even though Garrett and Astrid were book-ending the image, they’d grown closer. And no one stood in their way. They belonged together. I couldn’t envision myself with Ryann. Or anyone, for that matter. My love ship had sailed. Either that, or it was permanently docked in the harbor, filled with holes and unseaworthy.
“I’m afraid of losing the one person I care about,” Luke added quietly. “I’m afraid something will happen, and I won’t be able to save her in time. I’ve heard from my colleagues about people dying in their arms. I couldn’t bear that.”
Melody turned away from him. “I’m afraid I’ll break under pressure, that my brain will burn up and leave nothing behind. I’m afraid I won’t live up to expectations. Or that I might become a target, that I’ll never get a say in my own life, ever again.”
Huh? What did that mean? What troubles could a happy-go-lucky bookworm have, to make her feel like that? Did she have exams coming up or something? They could be hard, sure, but getting worked up to that extent felt like overkill. Unless there was something else going on that I didn’t understand.
Harley Merlin 11: Finch Merlin and the Lost Map Page 12
