She nodded, her worry shifting to determination. “His trail starts in the backyard and ends close to the barrier, just like all the others. Should I come with you?”
“No. Stay here and delay the police.” At her arched eyebrow, he said, “I’m not entirely sure we can trust them.”
Corrupt cops? As if this wasn’t already bad enough.
Dylan’s mom nodded. “I’ll make sure you have as much time as you need.”
“Come on, Aiden.” Mr. Johnson headed toward the back of the house.
“Why do you need me?” he asked as they passed through the next room.
“Moral support.”
When they got outside, Mr. Johnson walked to the middle of the yard and held a hand up, muttering a few words. A red smokelike substance appeared several feet away, hovered for a moment, then drifted toward the woods. “This way.”
“What kind of spell was that?” Aiden asked as he followed.
“It’s my little trick to compensate for not having a superhuman sense of smell. It’s showing me Dylan’s scent trail.”
Aiden had been in the backyard a few times since the incident but hadn’t gone beyond the cleared area into the trees. He focused on the flickering red smoke and tried not to think about where they were.
Mr. Johnson made a little sound.
“What?”
“I think I know where it’s leading.”
“Where?”
But the smoke suddenly disappeared, leaving them in the dark. A large, glowing white ball appeared, and Mr. Johnson knelt to examine the narrow trail. “Maybe he didn’t make it,” he said quietly.
Aiden’s pulse jumped into his throat. “What do you mean? You think he’s dead?”
Mr. Johnson stood. “Poor choice of words, sorry. The trail ends here. No scent and there are footprints going both ways, so I can’t tell which set is freshest. I’m no expert.” He shook his head. “Let’s check anyway.”
They continued down the trail and stepped out into an open area. It looked so different that Aiden didn’t recognize it at first. His chest tightened as he looked around. “Is this…?”
“Yes. Where Dylan performed the ritual.” Mr. Johnson swept a hand in front of him like he was trying to feel something invisible. A spiderweb, maybe. He pulled a little bottle out of his suit pocket, dumped a powder into his palm, and tossed it into the air. He squinted as it fell. “No trace, just like the others. Like it’s been scrubbed clean.”
Aiden started to feel dizzy. He wasn’t breathing right again. “I think I should go back.” If he fainted, he wasn’t going to be any help to anyone.
“I need you to stay here.”
“Okay.” Aiden swallowed. He pictured the area covered with snow, symbols burned into the ground, Dylan standing with the jar full of blood.
“Stay here,” the warden repeated. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Where are you going?”
“Outside the barrier.” He walked toward the other side of the clearing, the floating light following him. The glowing ball grew dim as it went deeper into the trees.
Aiden listened to his own panting breaths as he stood in the darkness. His scar itched. He kept replaying the moment Dylan threw fire at him; the pain, the confusion. Aiden grabbed the nearest tree and slid down until he was sitting.
It’s the past. Nothing is hurting you now. Stop freaking out.
Sweat broke out all over his body, and he stuck his head between his knees. A minute or so passed. Then he felt something. A warm, gentle sensation that seemed to come from the ground and from the tree at his back. Like a cup filling with water, the feeling spread through his body.
The forest. Nature calling to him, connecting with him. He’d learned this in his sessions with Phoebe. Aiden shifted and put his hands against the dirt, warmth filling him. He sighed.
Footsteps, coming fast. “Just like the others,” Mr. Johnson said.
Aiden’s head snapped up.
“They took Dylan.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Dylan woke with a start. He was wet, and something was very wrong. The first thing he saw was grass, and just beyond that, bars. He sat up, blinking. He was in a cage. “What the hell?”
“It’s awake!” someone called happily.
Dylan got to his feet, finding the cage just tall enough to allow him to stand. His heart raced. Had the wardens carted him off? He remembered going to the clearing and being knocked out.
Now he was in a much bigger clearing, morning sunlight shining through the trees. Dew sparkled on the grass. Milling around the cage were a dozen people wearing camo fatigues and carrying guns. Big guns.
“You sure he’s dangerous?” a man with a trim, dark beard asked. “He doesn’t look like a dragon.”
Dylan snarled. “I’ll show you dangerous.” He lifted his hands, calling on his magic. Nothing happened. A tendril of worry crept inside him. He tried again. Still nothing.
Half the people laughed.
“I couldn’t have you burning my clients before they got their money’s worth.” A woman pushed past a knot of humans. She wore a bright orange vest instead of fatigues.
Her faced looked familiar, and after a moment he made the connection. “You. You’re a warden.” The one who’d come to Dylan’s house to question him after the last disappearance. Was this what had happened to the others? Or was this Dylan’s punishment because they thought he’d done it? “What’s going on?”
“These people have paid a very large sum of money to hunt you.”
Dylan gripped the bars and felt a strong tingle of magic. That explained why he couldn’t use his power. It must be some kind of blocking spell. He could smell it now too— candle wax and sage. “Hunt? You mean gun me down inside a cage.” What a sucky way to go.
“No, we’ll let you out. Once we leave, you’ll have thirty minutes before the cage opens. Then you get a ten-minute head start. You choose whether to run or come after the hunters.”
Dylan snorted. “I’m not running.” Once out of the cage and away from the spells, he’d have his magic back.
One of the men slapped another on the back. “We got a real fighter here.”
Without turning, the warden said, “I promised to provide you with the greatest hunting experience of your life, and I deliver.”
“So this is what happened to those other people.” Everyone blaming him, and it was a damn warden who was responsible.
Her eyes narrowed. “Those things were monsters, not people.”
“But you’re one of us.”
She leaned closer but stayed out of arm’s reach. “I am human.”
Oh, so it was like that? “You know, they used to burn witches. I’ll be happy to continue the tradition.”
One of the hunters laughed, and she shot him a glare. “Everyone take a good look, then we’re moving out.” Turning back to Dylan, she said, “Once the door opens, you have ten minutes.”
* * *
Aiden and Mr. Johnson ran back to the house. Mr. Johnson stopped just before reaching the back door and took a moment to catch his breath. “You can look worried, but don’t panic. And don’t tell anyone what we found.”
“But we didn’t find anything.” Aiden was so confused.
“Exactly.” He went inside.
Dylan’s mom was talking to two police officers in the front hall. She turned and asked Mr. Johnson, “Anything?”
He shook his head. “No sign of him, I’m sorry. I’ll do a sweep of the barrier and see if I can find where he got out. If he got out.”
“Thank you,” she said, her eyes tight.
Mr. Johnson stepped past the officers, who gave Aiden a curious look. “What’s with the kid?” one asked.
“Close friend of the Galloway boy. I have some questions for him.” Mr. Johnson kept walking.
Aiden swallowed. How worried was too worried? And what the heck was going on?
The sky was lightening, birds chirping. It wouldn’t be lo
ng before sunrise. How long had Dylan been gone? An hour? Two? Longer?
When they got in the car, Aiden said, “So you want them to think you think Dylan ran away?”
“Yes.” Mr. Johnson pulled away and started down the drive.
“Why?”
“I think Dylan’s being set up as a scapegoat for whatever is going on, and I want them to think I’ve fallen for it.”
“What is going on? Kidnapping? A serial killer?” Here came another anxiety attack.
“I’m not sure, but I suspect…” He gave Aiden a look. “Can you—? Well, I suppose you can. You’ve kept the incident with the dark fae secret all these months.”
Aiden sat up straighter.
“I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I suspect at least one warden is involved. Possibly the Shadow Valley police as well. The disappearances leave no trace. Each trail leads to the woods, close to the barrier but not up to it. Then it suddenly ends. No magic, no scent, not even footprints. Tracking spells don’t work. Not many people have the kind of power or knowledge to pull something like that off. But most wardens do.”
“You think wardens took Dylan?” Aiden hugged himself, trying to relieve the sick feeling in his stomach.
“Or assisted whoever did.”
“Why would they do that?”
“That’s one of the things I’m trying to figure out.”
As awful as the conversation was, talking helped ease his anxiety. “So what are we doing now?”
“I’m taking you outside the barrier.”
Aiden jolted. “But I’m not allowed!”
“You’re with me. I can give you permission.” They turned onto one of the main roads. “I’m going to cast a tracking spell.”
“But didn’t you just say they don’t work?”
“This one will. I have a direct line to Dylan’s magic.”
“What direct line?”
“You.”
Aiden frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Your scar. There’s still the smallest trace of Dylan’s magic there. I can use it to locate him.”
Aiden rubbed at his chest. “So that’s why you want me to come with you.” If they could find Dylan in time to save him, then everything was worth it. The scar, his fear, all of it.
Mr. Johnson drove fast down the mostly empty streets. Soon they were approaching the barrier. From this side, the road continued on with no hint of anything strange. Aiden squinted, but he couldn’t make out the faint shimmer that could be seen up close. From the other side, coming into Shadow Valley, it looked like a dead end blocked by trees.
Aiden wondered if he’d know when they passed through. He got his answer a moment later when a sudden tingle went through his whole body. He gasped, but the feeling melted away in a few seconds.
“Sorry, I should have warned you,” Mr. Johnson said. “You’re sensitive to it now.”
Aiden rubbed his arms. “Does that like, warn people that we’re leaving?”
“The power needed to maintain the visual barrier is high enough.” Mr. Johnson glanced at him. “Don’t repeat this, but no, there is no alarm. However, the barrier does cause interference, which is why I’m taking you outside before performing the spell.”
Aiden rubbed sweaty palms on his jeans. “So the kidnappers don’t come after us.”
Mr. Johnson pulled over and got out, telling Aiden to follow him. Aiden stood on the narrow strip of grass between the road and the woods while the warden grabbed a small briefcase from the trunk.
“Remove your shirt, please,” Mr. Johnson said as he set the briefcase down and flipped it open.
Aiden hesitated a moment before pulling his shirt off. He tucked it under his left arm and brushed his fingers over the scar. It was only an inch wide now and two inches long, a pale white ridge of rough flesh. The skin around it had healed completely.
Carrying a few small vials and pouches, Mr. Johnson came over. He glanced at Aiden, then squinted at the road and the woods. “Sit down…” His hand hovered in the air for a moment before he walked to a spot and pointed. “Right here.”
Aiden sat with his legs crossed while Mr. Johnson moved around him, sprinkling something from one of the pouches. “Will this hurt?”
“It will feel strange, but no, it won’t hurt.” Mr. Johnson opened a vial of cloudy liquid and tipped a few drops onto the ground. The warden went all the way around, creating a circle. Then he knelt in front of Aiden, setting all but one vial down.
The remaining vial was deep red. “Is that blood?” Aiden asked. His heart pounded as he thought of the jar Dylan had carried.
“Just ink,” Mr. Johnson said with a brief smile. He spread the liquid along his finger. “Now close your eyes and think of Dylan.”
Aiden took a deep breath and let it out as he lowered his eyelids. Mr. Johnson pressed his finger against Aiden’s scar, and he fought an urge to move away. Dylan. Okay. He’s in trouble and needs our help. We have to find him. He pictured Dylan smiling, laughing, talking at lunch. The first day they’d met, when he’d pointed Aiden to the right buffet line. Playing video games in his room. The way he glared at Conner every time the older boy came over.
The look on Dylan’s face when he turned, fire blazing from his hands. The pain searing across Aiden’s chest. The pain was only a memory, but the heat of it almost felt real.
“Got it.”
Aiden opened his eyes. “What?” The heat didn’t go away. It felt like he was standing too close to a fireplace.
Mr. Johnson stood. “There’s a thread connecting you to Dylan, and now I can see it.” He went to one edge of the circle and kicked at it with his toe.
Aiden’s chest started to cool.
The warden replaced the things in his briefcase and snapped it shut. “Let’s go.”
Aiden stood and started pulling on his shirt.
“Leave that off. It might interfere.”
Aiden tucked it under his arm again. His chest was still warm, but it wasn’t bad. “Does that mean Dylan is still alive?”
“Yes.” Mr. Johnson slammed the trunk closed.
Aiden got into the car. His head was swimmy, and the seat belt felt odd against his bare chest. Dylan was alive. He clung to that idea.
Mr. Johnson got in and started the car. He pulled out his phone and started typing.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure I have backup.”
“But I thought you couldn’t trust anybody?” Aiden asked. Corrupt wardens. Possibly corrupt cops. God, this was awful.
“I know I can trust Dylan’s mother. I’m asking her to follow us at a safe distance and to be ready if I need her. First I have to be sure of what’s going on.”
Mr. Johnson set the phone down and looked at him. “We’ll find him, Aiden.” His tone dropped to something dangerous and dark. “And the people responsible.”
* * *
The sun flickered through the trees, and despite how worried he was, Aiden fought to stay awake. He should be deep asleep at this time of day. “How far away?”
“Hard to say. I can see the line, but I can’t tell where the end is.”
Aiden shifted and looked down at himself. “So there’s a line coming out of my chest?”
“Metaphorically. It’s the thread of Dylan’s power leading from his mark on you to him. The spell allows me to see it as a thin red line.” He suddenly braked and took a sharp turn onto a dirt road. “Deeper into the woods,” he muttered.
The road got rougher and the car bounced along. “What are we gonna do when we find him? Them? Will we have to fight wardens?” What a terrible thought.
“I don’t know.” Mr. Johnson gave him a serious look. “But if we want to help Dylan, we have little choice.”
Despite the warmth in his chest, Aiden shivered.
They made two more turns, and after a slight rise they saw several cars and trucks ahead. It seemed to be the end of the road. Mr. Johnson pulled in behind them, turning to block as many
of them as he could. “Not a good sign.”
“Oh God.” Aiden wanted to go home, but he couldn’t abandon Dylan.
The warden got out and walked through the vehicles, peeking in a few windows. “People with lots of money. What the hell is going on?” Mr. Johnson said almost to himself.
Aiden’s pulse roared in his ears. “Maybe I should stay in the car.”
“It’s safer if you come with me. I can protect you from almost anything.”
Almost. That wasn’t as reassuring as it should have been. A trail led away from the parking area, covered with tire tracks but not wide enough for cars. Motorbikes? ATVs?
“Stay behind me.” Mr. Johnson took off at a fast jog, and Aiden struggled to keep up.
He kept glancing around, expecting to see a warden appear or a streak of magic to shoot out and hit him.
Mr. Johnson stumbled. “Shit!”
“What?” Aiden’s head whipped from side to side, trying to see everywhere at once.
“Detection spell. They strung it across the trail.”
Aiden whimpered.
“Warden Johnson.” A tall man stepped out onto the trail. “Somehow I’m not that surprised.”
“Barrett, what the hell is going on here?”
This is bad. This is so bad. Oh God, I don’t want to die. Aiden’s head started to tingle. He wasn’t getting enough oxygen.
“You’re about to have a tragic accident.” The man lifted his hand, and a blue-white spell streaked toward them.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Sucking in as much air as he could, Aiden ran into the woods. All he could think of was getting away.
Behind him, a crackling sound and Mr. Johnson shouted, “Aiden!”
He stumbled, branches scratching his arms, and kept running. Little black spots danced at the edges of his vision, and the only sound louder than his gasping breaths was his thundering heart. Distantly he heard Mr. Johnson and the other man fighting. It sounded like a match in Major Magical Control, only this was for real. They were trying to kill each other.
The 7 Bad Habits of Slightly Troubled Monsters Page 16
