Scorch

by Gina Damico

  “I do care!”

  “Then act like it!” With that, her mom jumped up from the couch and bolted to the bathroom.

  Lex’s hands were shaking uncontrollably. She shoved them under her arms, not knowing whether to cry or apologize. Or run off into the woods, never to be seen again.

  Her father sighed. “She’s had a rough time,” he said. “I mean, we all have, but she’s taken it especially hard. Feels like she failed Cordy. As a mother.”

  “But it wasn’t her fault,” said Lex. “She couldn’t have done anything about it.”

  “I know. But still, parents are supposed to protect their kids, no matter what.”

  Her father rubbed his shiny bald head, then took a deep breath. “I don’t know what it is Mort’s got you doing up here,” he said in a steady tone, “and I don’t want to know. It’s not farming, that’s obvious. But I trust him, and you. So do me a favor, will you?” He looked at her. “Be safe. Please. Your mother and I love you so much—I know she seems mad now, but it’s only because she worries, and misses you. Both of you.”

  Outside, it began to snow. He glanced out the window. “She spends hours in your room looking at all those pictures, torturing herself. Wondering how it happened, if Cordy felt any pain, whether she’s in a better place now. If anything happened to you, too—” He shook his head. “It’d kill her.”

  Lex stared at her sneakers. Everything was so unfair. What had her parents ever done to deserve this? Why couldn’t they have the nice, normal family they’d earned after sixteen years of devoted parenting?

  She looked at her father. “Dad,” she said, “if I told you I knew for a fact that Cordy was okay, would you believe me?”

  His eyes met hers.

  “Yes.”

  Just then, everyone plowed back into the house. As they shook the snow off their boots and drenched the kitchen floor, Uncle Mort poked his head into the living room. “We were thinking of getting a little post-dinner Pictionary game going,” he said. “What do you think?”

  Lex quickly wiped her eyes and gave him a forced smile. “Sure. Whatever.”

  They piled into the living room and sat wherever space allowed, while Corpp stayed behind in the kitchen to mop up the mess they’d made. Driggs plopped down on the floor in front of Lex. “You okay?” he mouthed. Lex just grabbed his hand again.

  “Where’s your mom?” Uncle Mort asked, removing an easel from the closet.

  Lex and her father exchanged glances. “Just . . . freshening up.”

  They divided into teams and began playing without her. But ten minutes later—amid cries of “Broccoli spaceship! Broccoli SPACESHIP!”—Lex started to worry. Her mom hadn’t returned.

  “Maybe I should go check on her,” she whispered to her father.

  Ferbus hurled the marker to the ground when the timer ran out. “It’s a forest fire!” he cried. “God, are you people blind? Can’t you—”

  A bloodcurdling scream ripped through the house.

  Everything that came next seemed to happen in slow motion. Ferbus dove to the floor, the easel collapsing on top of him. Uncle Mort drew his scythe and lunged into a protective stance in front of the rest of the Juniors, who had huddled together in the arms of Pandora.

  And Lex and her father slowly rose from the couch, their eyes locked in horror on Zara and the scythe she was holding to Mrs. Bartleby’s throat.

  14

  “Where is it, Lex?”

  Zara’s face was all business, as if she didn’t even register the other people in the room. She stared straight at Lex, her eyes hard.

  Lex swallowed. Not Mom. Not Mom too. “Don’t hurt her,” she said, watching her mother’s eyes bulge in fear. “Please.”

  “If you don’t give it to me right now, I will,” Zara rasped. The spaces around her eyes were dark and hollow, the whites of her eyes bloodshot. The sheen in her once-luminous silver hair was gone. She’d also lost a lot of weight; she looked sick and sweaty and pale, like a drug addict. “I swear to God, I’ll slit her throat. You don’t want to be responsible for the death of another loved one, do you? Before you know it, you’re going to get your whole family killed!”

  “What’s going on?” Mr. Bartleby said, his voice quivering. “Who is that?”

  “No one,” Uncle Mort said, never taking his eyes off Zara. “Just stay calm.”

  The Juniors were desperately tapping at their Cuffs to call for help, but the Cuffs had gone dead. “We have to go get Norwood!” Sofi shrieked, jumping to her feet.

  “Sit down!” Zara shouted. Sofi froze and stared at her with wide eyes, then slowly sank back down to the floor.

  “Give me the Wrong Book, Lex.” Zara’s new scythe was smaller and made out of what appeared to be plain old glass. Her strung-out state made it seem as though she should be shaking, but her hand was steady as she pressed the scythe tighter to Mrs. Bartleby’s throat, drawing a spot of blood. “Have I not provided enough incentive by now? How are all those innocents feeling on your conscience? How would you feel about adding one more?” she said, yanking Mrs. Bartleby’s arm.

  “I don’t have it!” Lex shrieked, helpless. “I swear. We don’t have it. We don’t know where it is.”

  “You’re lying!” Zara exploded. “God, Lex, you love to make things difficult, don’t you? Leaving me high and dry in California, stealing my scythe, snatching up the key to the dead for yourself—my key, my rightful property.” She narrowed her eyes. “And the whole time, acting like you’re above it all and want nothing to do with all this nasty Damning business. But you’re not so perfect after all, are you?”

  Lex stole a glance at the others. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Zara grinned. “Sure you do. Haven’t you told them? About your little extra credit project? By now you must be up to—”

  “Stop!” Lex yelled. A spark of rage shuddered through her chest, her hands growing hotter by the second. “What happened to you, Zara? Damning all those innocent people, bribing me into giving you information that I don’t even have?”

  “Liar. You know something.” She shifted her hand, digging the scythe deeper into Mrs. Bartleby’s skin.

  “Okay, okay!” Lex tried to think. How much could she tell her without giving everything away? “The book is in a cabin in the woods. But there’s some sort of protection around it. We can’t get in. No one can.”

  Zara thought about this for a moment, then scowled. “Sorry, Lex. That’s not good enough.”

  “The key!” Driggs butted in, desperate.

  Lex’s stomach plunged. “Driggs, no.”

  “Yes. We don’t know how to use it anyway. It’s not worth your mom’s life.” He got to his feet and dug around in his pocket. “Here,” he said, slamming his hand into Zara’s. “Take it.”

  Zara looked impressed. “Thanks, Slash. Good thing you survived after all.” She pushed him to the floor, followed by Mrs. Bartleby. She turned back to Lex with a taunting smile, almost as if she couldn’t help herself. “Too bad the same couldn’t be said for your sister.”

  That did it.

  With an animal-like howl, Lex rushed at Zara, her scalding hot hands outstretched. There was no uncertainty this time. This time she really was going to Damn her.

  But when her hand touched Zara’s skin, nothing happened. No fire. No darkness. Not even a flicker.

  Zara’s face opened into a wide grin, infuriating Lex even more. She lunged again, but this time Zara ducked out of the way, revealing a heretofore forgotten Corpp standing behind her and holding a shovel above her head, ready to knock her out.

  But it was Lex he met instead.

  It all happened so quickly—Lex was moving too fast to stop herself, too blinded by rage to realize what was happening. That the person she’d tackled to the ground—the person whose soul her hands were incinerating—was not her mortal enemy, but rather the friendly old barkeep who’d been kind to her since day one.

  Lex yanked her hands away, but it was too late.
>
  The room plunged into darkness.

  The screams from the others were bone chilling. Even Bang’s mouth hung open, frozen in a silent shout as the blackness amassed over Corpp’s crumpled form, then plunged inside, causing it to burst into flame. Lex watched, too stunned to move. The Juniors hugged one another, some looking away and crying, some unable to tear their eyes from the sight of Corpp’s sizzling body. Sofi let out a piercing scream, jumped up, and ran right out of the house. Lex’s parents remained huddled on the floor, their eyes shut tight. Uncle Mort grabbed Pandora and held her head to his chest, forbidding her to watch.

  Only Driggs jumped into action. He broke away from the Juniors and knelt over Corpp, his face glowing in the light of the small fires popping up along the old man’s brown skin. Almost instinctively he held his hands over the body, steady and confident, as if he were Culling Corpp’s soul.

  And all at once the flames disappeared.

  Or rather, they arose from Corpp’s skin and floated up into Driggs’s waiting hands, where they lingered for a moment before vanishing in a puff of smoke. The room was silent, every person in it looking at Driggs, then at Corpp’s chest, which had begun to rise.

  But once—only once. With his last breath fading, Corpp opened his eyes, looked at Driggs, and said in a wondrous, almost sad voice, “It’s gone.”

  With that, he died.

  Pandora fell onto his body, clutching him so tightly it seemed as though her gnarled hands would break. No one else knew what to do or where to look, dividing their attention between Corpp, Zara, and especially Driggs, who was sitting on the floor, dazed.

  Even Zara couldn’t stop staring at him. “What the hell was that?”

  As soon as she spoke, the spell was broken. Uncle Mort started toward her, but Zara barely noticed. She kept her eyes on Driggs and pointed at him. “You’re next,” she said, her voice quivering with fury.

  “Get her!” Uncle Mort yelled—but he wasn’t quick enough. He grabbed only air as Zara hacked her glass scythe through the air and disappeared, leaving behind nothing but the chaos she had wrought.

  Lex sat on the floor, paralyzed. Her hands didn’t hurt, but she wished they did. She wished they had burned right off at the wrists.

  And her parents—God, her parents. “Mom,” she said, her voice cracking. “Are you okay?”

  “She’s fine,” her father said, smearing a spot of blood from her neck. “Just a scratch.”

  Mrs. Bartleby’s eyes were huge. “Lex, what happened? Who was that?”

  Uncle Mort jumped in before she could respond. “You two,” he said, pointing to her parents. “Come with me.”

  “What?” Mrs. Bartleby said. Her husband helped her up from the floor. “Why?”

  “Don’t you want to see Lex’s room?” Uncle Mort said. “She cleaned it, just for you.”

  “Lex? Cleaned her room?”

  As Uncle Mort led them away, Lex assessed the damage. Driggs was still kneeling on the floor, staring at Corpp’s charred body, while Pandora hugged her dead husband and sobbed. Lex forced herself to her side. “Dora,” she said, the words barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t waste your breath, girl,” Pandora said, finally lifting her head from Corpp’s chest. Lex’s heart caught in her throat, until Pandora’s face broke into a mournful smile. “I’ll slap you silly if you start wagging your tongue with apologies. It was an accident. You were just trying to protect us.” She turned to Driggs, a look of wonder in her eyes. “And you,” she breathed. “You unDamned him.”

  Driggs’s brain was still stalling. All color had drained from his face. “No,” he said in a shaky voice. “No, I don’t think—”

  “You did.” Her eyes were wet as she grabbed his hand. “Thank you, thank you . . .”

  Uncle Mort returned from Lex’s bedroom. “We gotta go,” he said, drawing the curtains. “Sofi saw everything, she must have sounded the alert by now. Norwood and Heloise and half the town will probably be here in a few minutes to arrest us.”

  “Us?” Ferbus pointed at Lex. “But she did it!”

  “She didn’t mean to!” Elysia shot back. “Besides, you know they’re just going to blame all of us anyway, no matter what we say!”

  “Exactly,” said Uncle Mort. “So here’s the plan: Juniors, you’ll go first. The Cuffs are dead for the moment, so at least they won’t be able to track us. I’ll stay behind and deal with Lex’s parents, then catch up to you. Pandora”—he squeezed her shoulders—“you know we have to go. I’m sorry.”

  “I know,” she said, nodding. “Go. I’ll handle the brute squad.”

  Uncle Mort peeked through the curtains. “They’re coming,” he said. “We don’t have much time. You’ve all got your stuff, right? Scythes, bags?”

  The Juniors nodded and grabbed their bags. Lex snuck a glance into hers and did a mental checklist. Scythe, Lifeglass, Cordy’s Spark, some clothes, the plastic skull-and-crossbones lighter, Captain Wiggles . . .

  “But we can’t go out the front door, they’ll see us!” said Elysia. “And we can’t go out the back door; they’ll find our tracks in the snow!”

  “Right. Which is why we’re not leaving through any doors at all.” Uncle Mort hastily assembled his own bag, then took out his scythe.

  The Juniors finally caught on. “You want us to Crash out of here?” said Ferbus. “With direction?”

  “It’s our only option.”

  “But we’ve never done it before! There’s no way!”

  “You guys are full of surprises. Haven’t we learned that today?” He threw a sideways glance at Driggs, who went even paler.

  “What about Sofi?” Elysia asked.

  “I guess—” Uncle Mort looked pained. “I guess we leave her.”

  “But where do we Crash to?” Bang signed.

  Uncle Mort took something out of his pocket. “Here.”

  It was a photograph of a desert. The yellow ground was dry and cracked, its surface shimmering in the hot midday sun. Bright blue sky, no clouds in sight. And sitting in the middle of it all, unfurled majestically across the ground and having no business being in the middle of an uninhabited desert, was a spotless red carpet that vanished into the horizon.

  Driggs slowly raised his head. “You want us to Crash to DeMyse?”

  “But that’s on the other side of the country!” said Ferbus. “We can’t Crash that far!”

  Uncle Mort patted his bag. “Don’t worry, I’ve got all your Sparks. If any of you die, I’ll know about it.”

  “Well, that’s comforting.”

  “But—” Elysia started. “How do you know Zara won’t follow us there?”

  “She’s never attacked DeMyse, not once. They must have better security measures than we do. Plus, I have other . . . business to attend to there.” He held up the photo again. “Concentrate on this image as hard as you can. Memorize every inch. Then scythe, all at the same time.” He looked out the window again. “They’re almost here. You have to leave.”

  “Wait,” Lex said. She looked in the direction of her room. “What’s going to happen to Mom and Dad?”

  Uncle Mort hesitated, then pulled a vial of Amnesia out of his pocket.

  “No,” said Lex, her heart sinking. “Don’t.”

  “I have to,” he said. He looked tired. “They’ve seen more than anyone on the outside should see, and they won’t understand it. Why worry them like that?”

  Lex thought of how upset her mom had been since Cordy died. “Right.”

  “I promise all they’ll remember is that they saw you for Thanksgiving and it was a pleasant, stress-free visit. All right?”

  Lex nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

  “Now go.”

  The Juniors hurriedly took out their scythes, but all they could do was stare back at him. A loud pounding came from the door.

  “Mort!” Norwood’s muffled voice rang out. “Open up!”

  “Go!” Uncle Mort yelled.

  The Juniors held t
heir partners’ hands, closed their eyes, and scythed.

  15

  A vulture circled overhead.

  Lex looked down. Hard, solid ground crunched beneath her sneakers. Cracks in its surface cobwebbed across the expanse, forming a sea of natural cobblestones. Just as in the photograph, a red carpet sat to her left, leading straight into the distance. The horizon looked wet, the mirage shimmering furiously in the heat of the midday sun. Elysia lay on the ground a few yards away. Behind her, a moaning Ferbus rolled onto his back, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

  Driggs was looking at the distant hills, but Lex knew his brain was elsewhere. How had he known how to stop the Damning? How had he been able to—she didn’t even know what to call it—to Cull the evil out of Corpp’s body? It sounded so ridiculous, but—

  But it happened. Everyone saw it.

  Lex finally squeezed his hand and whispered, “You okay?”

  Driggs looked at her, his eyes wide. “I don’t think ‘okay’ is allowed to be in our vocabulary anymore.”

  “Hey.” Ferbus had gotten up and was heading straight for Driggs. “Dude, what the hell was that?”

  Driggs let go of Lex’s hand and swallowed. “I don’t know.”

  “Bullshit! Your stupid girlfriend Damns the ever-loving crap out of our collective grandfather, and you just so happen to be able to fix it? And you expect me to believe that you didn’t know you could do it? Why didn’t you tell me?” Ferbus was so mad, flecks of spit were flying out of his mouth and falling to the ground, where they sizzled on the hot sand. “I’m your best friend! Or I was, until this freak came along—”

  Driggs clocked him. Right in the nose.

  Blood exploded out of Ferbus’s face as Driggs grabbed him by the collar. “You are my best friend, you selfish bastard,” Driggs said in a disturbingly quiet voice. “Even when you say dumbass things like that.” Ferbus snuffled and opened his mouth, but Driggs wasn’t done. “And I know you’re not stupid enough to believe that Lex Damned Corpp on purpose. She was obviously trying to stop Zara, which is the same thing you would have done if she had a scythe to my throat, or to Mort’s throat, or to anyone’s throat.”