“That's true,” Isabella said. She hadn't thought of that. She took out her phone and looked to see if Theophilus had called her. He had not. “And why did he leave a message on your room phone instead of calling me.”
Seth shrugged. “Maybe he lost his phone.”
Nothing told her not to go into the theater. Theophilus could have wanted to keep off the cell phone lines for a reason. Maybe he left her a message on her room phone, too. She hadn't checked that. “Okay, let's go.” Isabella said, moving with the group toward the theater. None of the police paid any attention to them. They probably thought they were just hotel guests, not the children of the missing people.
They came to the side of the old museum. Seth spoke first. “Um, you have a plan, right?”
“You mean to get by the police? Kind of.”
“We should just go in,” said Micah. “Theophilus said for us to meet him.”
“It's all legit,” said Seth.
Isabella chewed the inside of her mouth for a moment, eyes sweeping over the sea of dark blue and badges. “For some reason, I don't want to talk to them,” said Isabella.
“Whatever you say,” said Seth. The others seemed in agreement, for once.
“Come on. The old museum,” said Isabella.
“What old museum?” Micah asked.
“Right there,” said Cleo. “I remember we used to play in there when we were little.”
They walked the few paces to the building, and then Isabella wove her way through the bushes that guarded the dilapidated museum. Xander was the first to notice her sticking her hand through a glassless window panel at the side door and turning the knob from inside.
“We'll go through the caretaker's side.” She pried open the door and held it for the others to squeeze through. In the front room, there was an old sofa, a table, two chairs, and a small bookshelf. There was also a kitchen off to the right that was not much bigger than the front room. They passed a bathroom and closed door that could have been a bedroom and went into a very large closet with a door on one end. Isabella turned the knob and tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. “That's weird. It always used to open.”
“Let me try it,” said Xander. He shoved it with the flat of his palms, but it still stuck.
“You turn, and we'll push,” said Seth. Micah looked put out by this prospect, but he helped anyway. It did not work.
“Wait. What's that?” Cleo pointed to a small hook at the top of the door. “Uh, you might want to get out of the way.” She removed the hook, and the door opened.
Isabella shrugged, her face flushed. “I guess they didn't have that there before.”
“Looks pretty rusty to me,” said Seth.
“Let's just go, okay?”
Inside was another closet, this one lined in cobwebs. On the far end was another door. Exiting through the second door, after passing lots of props and joke gags from old movies, they found themselves in a room behind the box office.
Micah cracked open the door and peeked out. “Great. How are we going to get anywhere? I can see the whole theater, but I don't see Theophilus. Just two cops. We should just talk to one of them. We didn't do anything wrong.”
“They'll take us into police custody,” said Isabella. “Our guardians are missing, right, Cleo?”
Cleo nodded once. “Yeah, she's right.”
Seth peeked through the door and down into the theater. “No, Theophilus, like he said.”
They inched back into the box office room and looked at each other, waiting for one of them to come up with the next plan.
“What about that secret room you saw Theophilus going into?” suggested Seth.
“That's what I was thinking,” said Isabella.
“Oh no…” Micah said. “I'm not going back in that dungeon.”
“It's the only way,” Isabella argued. “Theophilus could be hiding there, waiting for us.”
“But he doesn't even know we saw him go in there.”
“I don't know, maybe he does. Maybe he wanted me to catch him that day. I think he wanted to tell me more stuff, but my grandmother thought it was a bad idea.”
“I think it's a good idea,” said Seth.
“Are you sure this secret room you saw Theophilus going into is gonna give us some answers?” Cleo asked.
“We just have to exit this door and get into the theater before they notice us,” said Seth.
“I'll create a diversion,” said Xander.
All but Cleo shared looks at Xander's over-the-top, cliché line. “You'll have to get used to my brother. He talks like he's in a movie half the time.”
“Okay,” said Seth. “What's your plan? You're just a kid and all. It could be dangerous.”
“I'm fifteen,” said Xander.
“Exactly,” replied Seth.
Xander sighed. “I'll go in all innocent, dorky, fat kid, and it'll be fine.”
“Take someone with you then,” Cleo insisted, frowning.
“Why don't you go with him, Mr. Invincible?” Isabella asked Seth.
“I'm not leaving—uh, I mean, I want to see what you were talking about. With the room, I mean.”
Isabella bit down her retort. Her stomach churned with fear. Theophilus was the only one who could help them, and he wasn't where he said he'd be.
“I'll go with him,” said Micah. “We'll pretend to be lost hotel guests. We won't tell them who we are.” Micah wasn't only a genius at computers: He was also a master of deception. Xander lit up at the prospect.
“I've got the perfect characters and plan in mind,” said Xander. As they discussed his idea to distract the two officers in the room, Isabella and the others sat back and waited quietly.
Xander handed a cell phone to Micah as they both disappeared into the shadows. A few minutes later, the door to the lobby swung open and a loud explosion was heard. The officers looked at each other with shock and bolted toward the door, leaving the room abandoned temporarily.
“What was that noise?” asked Seth.
“My brother's sound effects app. Knowing him, he hooked up the speakers to try and draw the police toward him. Then he'll pop out and—”
“They'll pretend to be whomever they dreamed up. Are you sure those two aren't the siblings?” Seth asked.
“That's kinda genius,” responded Isabella.
“Runs in the family,” said Cleo.
“Whatever,” said Isabella. “Let's get going.”
Once it seemed as if no one was looking, Isabella, Cleo, and Seth slipped into the theater, which was now empty. They followed a path up the side aisle to the wall with the secret door.
“I hope Xander and Micah are okay,” Isabella whispered as she pushed open the door.
“They'll be okay,” Cleo assured her.
Soft amber light met them in the hidden corridor, but for some reason, it seemed a lot darker than it had earlier.
“I don't like this place,” said Cleo.
“Yeah, really,” said Seth.
Isabella started forward. “If you want to go back, fine. I have to find out what happened to my grandmother.”
“You're such a control freak,” said Seth, following her.
“You're just figuring that out?” quipped Cleo behind them.
“Shhh.” Isabella took them to the door she'd seen Theophilus enter when he snuck down the hallway after rehearsal. “I'm not sure how to get in. There's no handle.” She stepped closer to the emblem.
“Wait. That's the...”
“I know. Theophilus's symbol,” said Isabella.
“It's something I saw on this notebook my dad used to have, too,” Seth explained.
Cleo stepped closer to study it. “Let's see. We've got a torch in the middle with vines all around it. A torch represents enlightenment or leadership. It's gotta be some sort of secret society or something.”
“Are you serious?” Seth asked.
Cleo sighed. “Okay. So, our parents are gone, and we've seen them all with th
is same symbol. What do you think it means?”
“Why don't you tell us, since you seem to know everything,” said Isabella.
“I already told you. It's a secret society. They have them all over the place. I could go down the list, but I'd rather not, right now.”
“Right,” Isabella agreed. She trusted them. Why? Trust wasn't something she gave away easily. Lana. Her grandmother, some of the time. Robert, maybe. Possibly her crazy old music instructor. “Theophilus told me about something called the Empath Society.”
“The what?” asked Cleo, her eyes eager in the dim amber light.
“I really don't know. He just gave me this.” She pulled the pendant from beneath her shirt and showed them the heart symbol on one side and the fox on the other.
“That's badass. Let me see,” said Seth, taking the pendant in his hand. The warm buzz the necklace created grew cooler. “But this isn't the symbol on the door.”
“I know,” Isabella said, stepping away from him and stuffing the necklace back into her shirt. “I don't get it, either.”
“Well, maybe we shouldn't be down here,” he said.
“I told you, I am finding out what happened to my grandmother,” said Isabella.
“I'm with Izzy,” Cleo said.
“Fine.” Seth turned and rammed his shoulder into the wall. “Ouch!”
“That isn't going to work. Trust me.” Isabella said.
Seth did it again anyway, this time with an expletive at his lips that would have made her grandmother's ears turn Tabasco red.
“If you break your arm, I'm not helping you.” For a reason unbeknownst to her, Isabella placed her hand on the wall and closed her eyes as Seth continued destroying his shoulder. The stone went from cool to warm.
“What the hell?” said Cleo, shuffling beside her. Isabella felt Cleo place her hand beside hers on the wall.
The stone warmed further, and the air thickened with humidity. Isabella's eyes snapped open to see a faint light in the shape of a door in front of them. Cleo placed her other hand on the wall and mumbled something beneath her breath. Seth stood behind them.
“Whoa.”
“Help us,” Isabella said in a low tone she did not recognize. Seth, too, placed his hands on the stone as she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Close your eyes.”
The wall vibrated as soon as she touched it with her other hand. Then, ever so slowly, the stone door slid open, sucked them inside, and slapped shut.
Chapter Thirteen
The Light Council
They lurched forward. Seth gripped Isabella's hand. Cleo squeezed her arm. Soft lights blinked off and then on—slow then fast—until gossamer light illuminated an octagon-shaped room. On each of its eight stone walls hung a portrait, and beneath each portrait was a shiny jewel-like object. In the center of the room was an eight-sided table with eight high-backed chairs, each decorated with the same symbol they'd seen on the other side of the wall. Four matching oblong velvet boxes had been placed at each station. And there was a shimmering black globe at the center of the table.
“Sick,” said Seth.
“I don't think I'd call this sick,” remarked Cleo.
“Sick means—”
“I know what it means.” Cleo said. “It's just that...”
“Can you two do me a favor?” Isabella asked before they went on.
“What?” asked Seth.
“Loosen the lockjaw grips.” She felt an odd heat from Seth's hand turn her core cold and an uneasy warmth from Cleo's. Cleo's mood was easy to discern—embarrassment; but Seth's was more complicated, and, as usual, a cool wall was quickly erected around him so there was nothing more to investigate.
“Sorry,” they both said, dropping their hands. Cleo approached the table.
“Well, Theophilus obviously isn't here, either,” said Isabella.
“Oh, wow,” said Cleo, holding up a gold pen she'd taken out of one of the oblong boxes at the table. “Look at these!”
Seth approached the table and grabbed a pen from a box in front of a different chair. “Okay. This is weird.”
“What are you two talking about?” Isabella strode over as Seth held out his pen. The name Gerard Logan, looped in script, was etched into its gold plating.
“They're two for every person in these case things,” Seth muttered as he continued around the table.
“Patricia Antonelli,” whispered Cleo, reading the pen in her hand before moving to the next station and picking up another. “Marcellus Antonelli.”
“Mariah Logan,” said Seth, his voice cracking as he stared at the next pen in his hand.
“Catherine Bayer Foxworthy,” Isabella said slowly, studying the one she'd picked up. What was all this? She tucked one of the pens with her grandmother's name into her pocket as she moved to the chair at the head of the table. She picked up another. “Theophilus Dodge.”
“Who are Millford Peck and Betty Reed?” asked Cleo.
“Betty Reed? That's our cook,” said Isabella, temples pulsing. “This is really starting to scare me, you guys.”
“Every set of pens has its own symbol and the symbol from outside. The same symbol that's right there.” Cleo, pointed to a carving of it on the table. “Look. It says lux, veritas, virtus beneath this one. I think that means ‘light, truth, and courage.’”
“How do you know that?” Seth asked.
“I like languages, okay? It's Latin.”
“Truth?” Seth snorted. “That's a joke. What the hell have they been doing down here? I always knew my parents were liars, but—”
“I pretend to hate my parents, too,” said Cleo. “They are such jerks sometimes, but I want them back.”
“Yeah, but how could they do this?” Seth complained. Isabella could just make out the pulsing in his neck in the subdued light of the room.
“Seth! These are clues, okay? We came here to find Theophilus so he could help us find them.” Isabella pushed down a sudden rage that threatened to rip free. Her eyes grew wet, but she blinked back the moisture. “You don't want to lose your parents. You don't want to be like me. I need my mother all the time. I need my father all the time. But they're not here. I have my Nano, and I love her. I have Lana, and I love her, too, but no one can replace your parents. Just be happy you have them and shut up!”
Seth didn't back down. “If I have my parents, then where are they?”
“I don't know, but we're gonna find them. This secret society they're in. Whatever lies they've told. None of it matters. We just need to figure out what's going on.”
“Maybe they don't want us to. If they did, they would have told us what was going on. They probably just left. Left and decided to leave us here to have God knows what happen.”
“Is that what you think?” Isabella's palms fisted.
“I just know I have to protect everyone now, and it's—”
“You don't have to protect me,” said Isabella.
“Or me,” said Cleo.
“You're a kid, too, you know?” Isabella remarked.
“I'm the oldest,” Seth reminded her.
“You're not my brother,” said Isabella. “You're not her brother, either.”
“We're sticking together, staying away from the cops, right?”
Isabella didn't answer him. She didn't know what they were going to do. “Theophilus. We have to find him,” she said. She thought of the violet fire for the first time in a while. Theophilus had said the lost heir had to be found so that he could help her restore the Fire. Maybe that was the reason all of this was happening.
Seth grew pensive and looked up, his lips pressed thin and tight. Isabella decided to leave him alone. Cleo seemed to lose herself in thought as well as she picked up various objects from around the room: a magnifying glass, small clocks set to varying time zones.
Isabella’s eyes soaked up everything. She understood Seth's anger and feelings of betrayal. Her Nano had been lying to her, too, and it stung like a backhanded slap across her bare
cheek. “Okay,” said Isabella, “maybe we should just look for clues then figure out what to do next. There could be a message or some notes with information somewhere or something.”
“Dude,” said Seth, pointing to a carving high up on the wall. “It's the symbol from your necklace.”
The air grew thinner. Colorless and carved into the stone of the wall was the Empath Society's seal: the heart, the eight-pointed star, and the little crown in the center. Beneath it read fons et origo. “Cleo, what's that mean?” Isabella asked.
“I think it's like spring or fountain and origin or source. I guess spring and source. I think I've heard that phrase.”
“Okay...” Isabella wasn't exactly slow, but she didn't get what that was supposed to mean at all.
“I just think it's a motto,” Cleo suggested. “Who knows what they mean by it? I don't think it's a message for us.” She paused. “So, the first one is the symbol on the door, then the one on the table is just for this group they're in, and this third one with the crown and heart is a symbol for the whole Empath Society, I guess.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” said Isabella.
Seth slid over to a wall and touched the blue jewel beneath a portrait of an old man wearing a top hat and red bow tie. “Dude, I think these things are real.” He fingered the sparkling bobble.
Isabella went to the portrait directly across from her grandmother's place at the table. Brush strokes and oil paint had manifested Renee Foxworthy, wearing a whole lot of fur and standing regally behind a chair. Her beautiful eyes appeared conflicted between uncertainty and peace. Beside Renee, there was a portrait of Sinclair. He wore a moustache and a World War I uniform. Isabella knew this was from one of his old films and not from real service. To the right of Sinclair hung a picture of a handsome Native American man holding a peculiar sword with a jagged blade and a star at the top of the hilt. The jeweled button beneath Sinclair looked to be black opal, while the other man's was an amethyst. The fire of the jewel tugged Isabella toward it. Like the wall that had sucked them into the room just moments before, the jewel warmed.
“Oh my god,” Isabella said when she found a picture of Renee, Sinclair, and their friends gathered in a small smoking-lounge-type of room. “This is a painting of the speakeasy room Micah and I found. Maybe that's where we should go.”
The Lost Heir Page 12
