Scorch

by Gina Damico

  LeRoy let out a grunt, then said nothing for so long that Lex thought he had fallen asleep.

  “You really think they’re the ones, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  The confidence in Uncle Mort’s voice made Lex shiver.

  “Well, then,” said LeRoy, sighing in a way that suggested he was getting up from a chair. “We’d better do what we can to protect them.”

  “That’s all I’m saying. Never let your guard down.” Uncle Mort tore the curtain open. “Right, Lex?”

  20

  Lex jumped back from the door with a yelp. Uncle Mort gave her a sly look. “Admiring the window treatments?”

  “I was just—”

  “The Deluxe Suite!” LeRoy vaulted into the room and spread his arms out wide, back to his old bombastic self. “King-size bed featuring Egyptian cotton linens. Thread count? Fifteen hundred!”

  “Knock it off, Roy,” Uncle Mort said, pushing him toward the door. “I need to reteach my niece how privacy works. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  LeRoy stepped out into the hall, twirled around, and gave them both a deep bow, but not before Uncle Mort had started to slam the door shut. “Exhausting,” he said with a sigh. He sat on the bed and studied Lex. “So, out with it. How much of that did you hear?”

  “Enough for me to be thoroughly confused yet irreversibly intrigued.”

  “Excellent. That’ll make my silence on the matter all the more torturous.”

  Lex rolled her eyes. She hadn’t expected him to tell her anything, but his evasiveness still pissed her off just as much as it always did. “I thought you two hated each other.”

  He shook his head. “Like I said, LeRoy and I go way back. You of all people should know that it’s the people we’re closest to whose heads we most want to rip off.” He folded his arms. “Speaking of which, what are you doing here?”

  Lex remembered the reason she’d torn out of the Afterlife like a crazed bat. “I got past the vault today, and I—”

  “Against the rules, obviously. Continue.”

  “I ran into Cordy and Kloo, and they said that Corpp made it to the Afterlife—which is great, but it got me thinking. Whatever happened to Grotton?”

  “Huh?”

  Lex sat down on the bed. “Maybe we’ve been going about all this research in the wrong way. Maybe we’ve spent so much time focusing on what’s in the books that we haven’t noticed what’s not.” She leaned in. “In all the books about Grotton, both in Croak and DeMyse, not one of them says anything about his death.”

  “So?”

  “What if he got to be so powerful, he—I don’t know, became immortal or something?”

  Uncle Mort kept a straight face, though Lex thought she saw him swallow a snicker. “Grotton was tracked down and murdered, kiddo.”

  “Oh.” Lex slumped. She glanced at her picture in the newspaper. “How? Grimsphere-wide manhunt?”

  “Not exactly.” He looked reluctant. “Grotton was lynched by regular people, not Grims.”

  Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Witch-hunts were all the rage at the time, and he was at the top of their list. Some farmer got him in the end, I believe. That’s why it’s not in our history books, because it’s a bit of an embarrassment to the Grimsphere that they never succeeded in bringing him to justice.”

  Lex was disappointed. “Kind of a lame death for such a powerful guy.”

  Uncle Mort gave her a disapproving look; he had always hated the way she admired Grotton. “He got off way too easy. If the Grims had caught him, they’d have thrown him in the Hole to rot.”

  “And I’m guessing no one’s ever seen him in the Afterlife?”

  “Nah. He’s probably so far into the Void he’d take centuries to find.”

  Lex sighed. So much for her earthshattering revelation. “Well, someone’s carrying on his work.” She told him about the Juniors’ theory, that whoever scribbled all the notes in the library had been training Zara from the start.

  He nodded. “I’ve been thinking that too. There’s no way she could have orchestrated all this on her own, without any help.”

  “And—” Lex hesitated, then continued. “I never told you this, but over the summer I saw a weird white figure in the woods. It didn’t seem like such a big deal, but then I’ve also seen this other guy in a white tuxedo, he was at the—”

  “Why am I just hearing about this now?”

  Lex blinked. “It didn’t seem important. Do you know what it is?”

  He twisted his mouth, thinking. “No.”

  He was lying, and Lex knew it. “Why won’t you tell me what you and LeRoy were talking about?” she demanded.

  “Because that,” he said, “was a private conversation.”

  “About the thing that ties all this together, right? The big gobsmacking secret?”

  After a moment he nodded.

  “I knew it,” Lex said quietly. “All this time. I keep asking and asking, and you always deny it. Now you admit it, and you still won’t tell me what’s going on?”

  “Soon.”

  Lex paused. That one little word was more than she’d ever gotten out of him. “Soon?”

  He looked her in the eye and dropped his voice. “Lex, what’s going down here is big—very big—and there are a lot of moving pieces to deal with. You being one of them.” He drew closer. “Think of this as one big game. I need to be able to bluff, trick, and even cheat, all without worrying that I’ve offended my niece by keeping her in the dark. You need to accept that sometimes you’re on a need-to-know basis for your own safety. There are certain bits of information that, if divulged by the wrong person or at the wrong time, can be deadlier than any weapon, set off more explosions than any bomb. So, yes. Soon.” He shook his head. “But not right now.”

  Lex took a shallow breath, as if inhaling too loudly would cause him to change his mind.

  But her gratitude soon turned to suspicion. “Hang on. Did you know that Corpp was in the Afterlife?”

  “Of course I knew. You think I don’t talk to Pandora and Wicket? Cuffs aren’t the only method of communication, you know.”

  Lex smacked his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me? You know how I’ve been worried sick about his soul, and so has Driggs!”

  “I was hoping to teach you a bit of a lesson,” he said, serious. “Get you so worked up over the possibility of Damning Corpp’s soul that you’d learn to be a little more careful next time. Especially now that Driggs can—well, whatever it is that he can do, this unDamning thing. I don’t want you getting into the mindset that you can be reckless and do whatever you want because he can simply correct your mistakes.”

  “I told you, it was an accident! Why are you so—”

  “When’s the last time you discharged, Lex?” he interrupted, warily staring at her hands. When she didn’t answer, he pointed at the bathroom. “Go.”

  Lex stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  After a few minutes Uncle Mort put his ear to the door and knocked. “Everything okay in there?”

  Lex emerged with her eyes narrowed. The shower curtain lay in the bathtub, crumpling in flames.

  Frowning, he pushed past her and turned on the water. “Why is it still burning?”

  Lex didn’t answer. Instead, she stalked to the door to the hallway, absent-mindedly flicking her pirate lighter on the way.

  “I know what you’re doing, Lex.”

  She stopped in her tracks. Uncle Mort finished dousing the fire and leaned on the bathroom doorway, staring at her. Her mouth went dry.

  He took a couple of steps closer. “I’ve known all along. And I haven’t stopped you, even though it goes against every fiber of my moral code to let it continue, because I know that the alternative could get very messy.” He opened the door to let her out. “I don’t like it, but all things considered, you’re doing the right thing.”

  Lex was hardly breathing. “I am?”

  “Yes.” He nudg
ed her out into the hall. “Just don’t let it get out of hand.”

  The door closed.

  ***

  “I could be doing something about this!” Driggs exploded angrily at lunch one day. The Juniors had been scouring one of Uncle Mort’s bootlegged newspapers and had discovered that one of the Croakers, the spidery proprietress of Ashes, had been Zara’s latest victim. “If I really can reverse the effects of Damning, I could be saving those people from all that torture!”

  “Too right,” Broomie said, “but you’re in hiding. And you don’t even know for sure what it is you can do. Maybe you’d make it worse.”

  “I guess,” Driggs said, not satisfied. “I just feel so pathetic. So far, our time here has been an epic fail. Haven’t found any more info in the library, haven’t found the neutralizer in the Afterlife—”

  “And,” Lex said, “I think Vern is starting to have a thing for Jacqueleen. I really need a better exit strategy, because yesterday he pinched my ass before I could—”

  “That’s it!” Elysia cried. “That’s what we should do!”

  “Pinch her ass?” Ferbus said.

  “No, you moron,” Elysia said, smacking him over the head with The Obituary. Ever since they’d gotten to DeMyse and become partners again, their incessant squabbling had grown worse. “I mean that if we want to feel useful, we should draw up an exit strategy in case Zara attacks! She’s going to find out sooner or later that LeRoy is harboring us, and we all know it’s not going to be pretty when she does.”

  “Can’t we just Crash out of the city?” Ferbus said.

  “Yeah, but they can’t,” Pip said, pointing at Broomie and Riqo. “Whatever we do should keep all of us safe.”

  So over the next couple of weeks a plan was constructed. Unfortunately, it came with a rather pernicious side effect: all the new talk of crisis management majorly amped up the Juniors’ paranoia. Before long they’d been reduced to a pack of jittery, sleep-deprived zombies who left the hotel only to work or drink themselves stupid at the Dungeon.

  By the time New Year’s Eve rolled around, Uncle Mort had had enough. “Have some fun, for Pete’s sake,” he told them after informing the manager of the Dungeon that no Juniors were permitted to enter the bar that night. “Go somewhere different, socialize, talk about things that don’t involve our imminent deaths. You’re starting to look like mole people.”

  So. Fun it was.

  “Well, don’t we look spiffy this evening,” said Ferbus, lounging by the hotel pool, his pasty white skin visible from space as he sipped a Yorick cosmopolitan. “Fun” apparently meant something different to everyone.

  “Shut up, Ferbus,” Lex said, tugging at her dress.

  Elysia, in the pool, surfaced with a splash. “The shoes look fab, Lex!” Since Lex had disposed of her last heels, Elysia had taken it upon herself to provide a replacement pair.

  “Where are you going?” Pip asked Lex. “Somewhere romaaaantic?”

  “None of your business, Blueberry Eyes.”

  A smarmy grin spread out from beneath Ferbus’s now hideously crooked nose. “Just so you know, my plans for tonight involve planting my ass in my room and watching the Jurassic Park movies until my eyes bleed, so you and Driggs better find someplace else to bump uglies.”

  “Ooh, you can use our room!” Elysia said. “I’m going over to Pip and Bang’s to watch Love Actually. Because some people around here actually possess human needs and emotions.” She glared at Ferbus.

  “I have human needs,” Ferbus replied. “I need to watch people get ripped apart by dinosaurs in the bloodiest fashion possible.”

  “Okay, ew to all of you,” said Lex, wobbling toward the exit gate. “And rest assured, if any uglies are going to be bumped, it will be far, far away from any of you, preferably on a moon base.”

  Lex couldn’t help but smile at the prospect as she made her way onto the street. With Uncle Mort distracted by the secret meetings he was always holding with LeRoy, she’d thought that some quality alone time with Driggs would have been a given. But things hadn’t worked out that way. There were roommates to deal with now, and with all the scheming they’d been doing, Lex and Driggs were often too exhausted with worry to summon up any viable hormones.

  So Lex was psyched. She made her way into the restaurant, Lights Out, and spotted Driggs toward the back. He was once again wearing Uncle Mort’s ill-fitting old suit, and once again, he looked ridiculous.

  But still hot. Driggs could wear a tap-dancing walrus costume and still look hot.

  He did a spit-take as she approached. “Holy shitballs,” he said, scanning her up and down. “You look gorgeous.”

  Lex laughed. “Thanks.”

  “You’re wearing a dress,” he informed her.

  “And yet I haven’t burst into flames. I’m just as surprised as you are.”

  “Well, warn me next time so my heart doesn’t explode.” He got up to pull out her chair.

  She snickered. “Pretending to be a gentleman, are we?”

  “Gotta try at least once a year, or I’ll lose my license.” He ran a hand up her leg and grinned. “Nice gams.”

  She leaned in to kiss him, sniffing at the tart scent of his aftershave. “Nice face.”

  After a fairly lengthy smooch that the other patrons didn’t seem to fully appreciate, Driggs sat back down and gestured at their surroundings. “Isn’t this place nuts? Look, that violinist over there is serenading people. There are mints in the bathrooms. And look how many forks we get!”

  Lex glanced at the plentiful silverware on the table and scrunched up her face. “Are you sure you can afford this?”

  “I already told you, yes. I’m very fancy.”

  “Come on, let me chip in a little.”

  Driggs looked offended. “Lex, stop. I think I can handle buying my girlfriend an eight—” His face paled as he read the menu. He swallowed. “An eighty-dollar steak.”

  Lex was equally horrified. “I’ll just get a salad,” she said, nearly vomiting on the words.

  “No way,” said Driggs, sitting up a little taller. “You are my date. As such, you are going to sit here and enjoy our romantic dinner—and not talk about how we’re all in constant mortal peril—and eat a cow that, according to these figures, was descended from royalty. Got it?”

  Lex smiled. “Got it.”

  The following two hours were the nicest Lex could recall having had in quite some time. They chatted, they laughed, they flirted, they devoured their delicious royal cows, and not one word was mentioned about Zara, Norwood, Damning, unDamning, or the fact that the Grimsphere was derailing before their very eyes.

  For one night, they felt almost normal.

  “So,” Driggs said to Lex after the waiter had cleared their plates, “how badly do you want to sweep all the candles off this table and get down to it right here on top of these priceless linens?”

  “Seeing as how I’ve pictured little else in my mind for the past hour, I’d say pretty badly,” Lex replied, sipping her water in what she hoped was a devastatingly sexy manner. “Although I do have a key for Uncle Mort’s suite—the one with the hot tub—”

  Driggs grabbed the waiter’s sleeve. “Check, please.”

  Lex grinned. This dress had paid for itself.

  But her face changed in an instant, screwing up into a scowl as she stared at something behind Driggs. “Oh God.”

  “What?”

  She pointed at the large window facing the street. Uncle Mort was banging loudly on the pane and yelling something incomprehensible.

  “Jesus.” Lex cupped her hands around her face, humiliated. “He’s worse than my dad.”

  Seeing that he wasn’t getting any response, Uncle Mort barged into the restaurant, blew past the maître d’, and grabbed Lex’s arm. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

  “What is wrong with you?” she said. People were staring. “You told us to get out and have some fun! Am I not allowed to have dinner with my boyfriend?”

&n
bsp; “Not tonight.”

  “Why?”

  The window shattered.

  Like everyone else, Lex dove to the ground. Yet Uncle Mort promptly yanked her back up to her feet, then pointed through the screaming patrons and broken glass to the chaos unfolding outside. “That’s why.”

  Standing in the midst of it all, grinning, was Zara.

  ***

  Luckily, she hadn’t spotted them yet. “We have to get to the Dungeon,” Lex told Uncle Mort in a hushed voice as they raced through the kitchen and out the back door. Her heart pounded as they ran, her mind trying to concentrate on the emergency plan rather than the sickening possibilities of what might be happening. People could be dead. The other Juniors could be dead. Or Damned. Why had she left them?

  She grabbed Driggs’s hand and didn’t let go.

  “No,” Uncle Mort told her. “You’re not going to the Dungeon. You’re going back to the hotel.”

  “But we’ve planned for this! The Juniors know to go there. Broomie said there’s a back room where we can hide, and if Zara finds us, I’ll—” She glanced down at her hands. She’d tried to Damn Zara last time, but it hadn’t worked. “I’ll think of something.”

  “Sorry. This is nonnegotiable, Lex.”

  Lex swallowed a lump in her throat. Uncle Mort hijacking the plans had not been one of their contingencies.

  “Go straight to the hotel,” Uncle Mort instructed. “Change, grab your stuff, then go to my room and do not leave, no matter what happens.” He stopped running to stare at Lex. “And don’t you dare jump in and try to fight her.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. You stay in that room and don’t go near the door. Now, give me your scythes. Your real scythes, not the glass ones.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Are you really going to make me ask you twice?”

  Lex glared at him, then dug around in her purse and slapped her scythe into his hand. Driggs reached into his pocket and did the same.

  “Good. Now run.” Uncle Mort bolted again, this time in the opposite direction from the hotel.

  “Where are you going?” Driggs shouted after him.

  “Cashing in on a favor! I’ll be back as soon as I can!”