Van Bender and the Burning Emblems (The Van Bender Archives #1)

by S. James Nelson

“S-O-a-P?” I said. Nick had said something about SOaP. “What’s that? Sounds made up.”

  He stepped over to the ashes on the floor, fresh from Nick’s spell, and leaned over them like a dog sniffing for a trail. After a moment, he gave me a long, serious frown, and pointed at the ashes.

  “Look at this. And smell that smell. It’s like someone has either cremated a cinnamon roll. Or they’ve ignited some brink.”

  “Uh,” I said. “I only change clothes in here.”

  “Yes. You had a big concert, didn’t you? Ninety thousand people. That’s just cruel, you know. You should see the traffic outside. It’s gridlock. Think of that next time you get people together to steal their emotions.”

  I wasn’t about to admit to anything. I’d long since learned that as soon as you admit anything, it’s all over.

  “Could you say something that actually makes sense?”

  He dropped to his knees and placed his face right into the brown carpet and black ashes. He inhaled and ran both hands through the carpet. When he pulled them away and looked up, black ash covered his palm, fingers, the cuffs of his coat, and most of his face.

  “I knew it,” he said. “Someone has cast a spell.”

  I shrugged again. “Like I said, I just change clothes in here.”

  He stood and stepped close to me, wagging a finger and leaning in so his nose came within inches of mine. Like Nick, he stood about six inches taller than me.

  “Listen, Mr. Van Bender. We know you have a Cask. Right before your intermission, you took a Cask out of your pocket, looked at it like you’d just realized what the hell it was, then put it back in your pocket. I came as quickly as I could.”

  Queasiness settled into my stomach. Thousands of people had been recording and broadcasting live when I’d taken out the Cask. How brilliant of me.

  “Who are you?” I said.

  He whipped out his badge again, so fast he might not have even put it away, and held it up right next to his ash-smudged face. He stood so close I had to lean back to see it.

  “Linford B. Maynerd, MITE division of S-O-a-P.”

  “Maynerd?” I said. Something stirred in my head. I’d heard that name before. “Maynerd? Isn’t that Nick Savage’s real last name?”

  “Listen, Mr. Van Bender, I left my wife and kids to come investigate the Cask. I left a very delicious plate of spaghetti covered in parmesan cheese on the table. I’m not here for funny business. Let’s get serious. Once again—I’m here from S-O-a-P.”

  “Why do you spell it out every time? Why not say ‘soap?’”

  He narrowed his eyes, tightened his lips, and still held his badge up next to his face. “Because if we say ‘soap,’ we inevitably get smart-aleck remarks.”

  “What,” I said, “like it must be very clean where you work?”

  He bared his teeth. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

  “Do you squeak when you go through doors?”

  His lips tightened. “Oh, very original. I’ve never heard that one.”

  “When wet, do you get sudsy?”

  He lifted his eyebrows and shook his head.

  “Uh,” I said, “I’ve never even heard of SOaP.”

  “Special Operations and Projects. Have you ever been involved in a special operation or project?”

  I shook my head.

  A corner of his mouth twitched. “Well, then, that’s why you haven’t heard of it. Where is the Cask?”

  I needed more time to think, so I nodded at the badge, which he still gripped like it was his last hold on sanity. For all I knew, it may have been.

  “You said ‘MITE,’ not M-I-T-E. You don’t get as many jokes about that?”

  “No, sir. Most people are smart enough not to mess with someone from the Magical Inhibition Task Enhancement division.”

  I swallowed hard. “I might be.”

  His upper lip curled. “Give me the name, Mr. Van Bender, of the person who cast a spell in here.”

  “I might not know what you’re talking about.”

  No reaction.

  “But then again, if I use all of my might, I might. Mightn’t I?”

  Still just that frown.

  I licked my lips and tried to step back from Agent Maynerd, but he followed me, holding his badge up by his face and leaning down toward me. Fortunately, his breath didn’t stink too badly.

  “Look,” I said, “I don’t know anything about what you’re talking about. All I know is that Nick Savage—”

  “Nick Savage!” His eyes widened. “Nick Savage was here?”

  Maybe it was time to downgrade from ignorant to innocent.

  “Uh, did I say Nick Savage? I meant ‘brick salvage’. I was thinking of calling my next alb—”

  “Did he hurt you?” His face grew concerned. He grabbed my arms. “Are you okay?”

  “No!” I said, a little surprised at the sudden concern.

  “You’re okay? What did he—”

  “What would he possibly do to hurt me?”

  He stared into my face for a moment, eyes laden with worry. Then he inspected the rest of me like someone scouring a car for damage.

  “You sure you’re okay?” he said.

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  Satisfied, he stepped back. “When did he get here?”

  I frowned. Maybe it was time to come clean.

  “He came right before the concert and gave me something. He said it would gather emotions. I didn’t believe him. It was that thing that had lights on it, and got hot.”

  He stared at me for another moment, then straightened and turned away. He lowered his badge, but kept it out. With his other hand, he rubbed his chin.

  “When did he leave?”

  “About two seconds before you got here.”

  “Two seconds?”

  “Maybe one.”

  “And he took the Cask with him?”

  “Ye—”

  Another knock nearly launched me out of my shoes.

  “Who is it?” Agent Maynerd said.

  Through the door came the muffled voice of a girl. “It’s Marti Walker.”

  Wow. Three people had made it through Mom’s security blanket. Nick. Agent Maynerd. And now Marti Walker. Mom’s Safe Zone didn’t seem so safe. Plus, it sure was taking her a long time to look in my dressing room. Kurt and Sandra must have been doing a great job at keeping her away.

  Agent Maynerd started toward the door, reaching out for the handle, but I shoved him aside, threw my back against the door, and locked the handle.

  “We can’t let her in,” I said. My heart pounded. My breath suddenly came fast and heavy. “We absolutely can’t.”

  Agent Maynerd frowned and straightened his coat. “Why not?”

  I shook my head, unable to admit that the prospect of meeting Marti Walker made my blood run cold, even though I’d already started to sweat.

  Chapter 12: I nearly get whiplash—twice

  From the second I saw his first video, my main objective in life was to meet Richie Van Bender. Yes. I’m a sick person.

  -Marti Walker

  “We can’t let her in,” I said.

  Marti’s voice came from the other side of the door. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  I tried to reply, but only a croak came out.

  “Let her in, Mr. Van Bender,” Agent Maynerd said. He gripped his badge with a trembling hand.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t even talk to her through the door. I would self destruct if I came face-to-face with her.

  Since her first single shattered the charts two years before, reporters had compared her to me. They called her, “The next Richie Van Bender.” In just two nights, we were both up for the Best Young Entertainer of the Year award.

  Our paths had never crossed—except for the month when Kurt and Sandra had snuck me an iPad. On the Facebook app, I’d gone by the name Skinny McFarter, and Liked Marti’s page. We never interacted. I mostly just read her updates and looked at the ba
zillion photos she posted.

  She knocked on the door again. “I wanted to congratulate you on a great concert.”

  My knees started to wobble.

  Agent Maynerd took advantage of my weakness by pushing me aside and unlocking and opening the door.

  I wanted to hide, but instead tried to get a good look at her. I could only see a bit of denim pants and a tuft of blond hair because Agent Maynerd stepped into the doorway. His hat and coat blocked my view. He said something to her that I couldn’t hear.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said.

  She stepped past him, into my dressing room.

  Marti Walker. In my dressing room.

  She extended a hand to shake. “Richie, nice to meet you.”

  She was a huge star. That was why I stammered incoherently, and why my brain couldn’t make my hand shake hers. I’d done the same with Nick Savage only a few hours before. Nothing unusual. That’s what happens when you’re confronted with a star. There’s no other reason for that. None at all. Not that I can think of.

  Nope, it wasn’t her distressed denim and a red shirt with lace along the neck that made me unable to speak. It also wasn’t her silver necklace with a simple heart pendant. And not her lips that sparkled with glittered lip gloss, or her hair that fell down around her shoulders in golden curls. And certainly not that she smelled like apples and carried a little purse on her arm.

  And by no means was it her clear green eyes, just a little higher than mine, which fell on me like dew on the grass.

  And most certainly not under any circumstances how she smiled at me and tilted her head to one side and said, “I loved the concert.”

  None of that was why I couldn’t say a word to her. It was because she was such a big star.

  I gave her a stupid grin and managed to lift my hand to hers. Some people have clammy hands. Or hands that are too warm. Some are even cold. But hers was just right.

  My knees wobbled.

  “Agent Walker,” Agent Maynerd said. He gave her a serious look. Ash still smudged his face. “I have to step out. Seems Nick Savage was here just a minute ago.”

  She gave him a sharp look, in which something passed between them, as if they’d met before. In fact, he’d called her Agent Walker.

  “Well,” she said, her tone determined, “I’ll take care of Mr. Van Bender. You go get your brother.”

  His brother? Of course! The physical resemblance, the same southern accent—I’d been right to suspect Agent Maynerd and Nick Savage had something to do with each other. Not twins, but still brothers.

  Agent Maynerd nodded and gave me a frown. “I’ll be back to talk with you. Marti, be careful. The Sunbeams are afoot.”

  She nodded and waved him away. He strode out of the open door.

  I was alone with Marti Walker. Still holding her hand. Er, shaking her hand. Shaking it.

  I let go.

  She shut the door and turned back to me. A transformation came over her. The girlish expression disappeared. She frowned. Her eyes narrowed.

  “Good,” she said. “We’re alone.”

  I tried to respond, but only squeaked. Why did she want to be alone with me?

  “Listen.” She stepped close. “What did Savage tell you?”

  I didn’t dare open my mouth, so just shook my head.

  She grabbed my arms at the shoulder and shook me. “Pull out of it! You’ve got to get yourself together!”

  The desperation in her voice sent a thrill of panic down my spine. Or maybe that was pain from how my head snapped back and forth at the shaking. I pulled away.

  “Thank you so much for that lovely neck trauma.”

  She came close again, and I shied away. I’d known some country stars had bad reputations, but had no idea she was quite so abusive.

  “What did Nick Savage tell you?”

  She raised her hands as if to grab me again, but didn’t touch me. Thankfully.

  Rubbing my injured neck, I managed to speak. “Maybe he’s not the one who should have the last name of ‘Savage.’”

  “And maybe,” she said, “I should kick your teeth in so you’ll tell me about the brink.”

  I narrowed my eyes and turned away. “Holy cow, relax.”

  She grabbed my shoulder and yanked me around to face her. It was almost like those movies where someone turns someone else around, then pulls them close to kiss them. Only, with her other hand she didn’t draw me in.

  She smacked me.

  Hard. Right across the cheek. My face stung. My neck hurt even more from how my head jerked to one side.

  “This is no time for games. This is serious business. You’ve gotten mixed up in something bigger than you can imagine. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll sabotage your shot at the Best Young Entertainer of the Year award.” She leaned in close to my face, again. “I’ll sabotage you. Understand?”

  I stared at her, not particularly enjoying my first encounter with Marti “I’ll give you whiplash one way or another” Walker.

  “I’d like to know,” I said, “if there’s going to be further bodily harm done to me. If so, I’d like to sit down for it.”

  She glared at me, whipped a phone out of her purse, and hammered away on the screen with her thumbs for a second, then shoved the phone back into her purse.

  “Van Bender,” she said. Her tone said that very soon I could get smacked again. “Let me tell you something very important, and I want you to listen closely, because I’m only going to say it once. And your life could depend on it. The lives of a lot of people could depend on it. Got it?”

  I nodded. Once.

  “Good.” She leaned in close, so I could smell her minty breath as she continued. She had freckles across her nose, which she’d tried to cover with make-up. “Nick Savage is part of a secret gang of dark musicians bent on taking over the world. It’s likely that tonight you’ve done something to help them.”

  She paused to let it sink in. But the only thing that sank in was that if anyone seemed like a dark musician, it was her—what with the shaking and the smacking.

  And besides, Nick had warned me this would happen. He’d said that people didn’t understand that he’d changed.

  Who to believe?

  There wasn’t much point in pretending he hadn’t come in and talked to me. Maybe by fessing up I could learn more—because if there was one thing I lacked at that point, it was information. I needed a lot more of it, and wanted to look as innocent as a babe.

  “He was here,” I said. “He came before my show, and gave me a little device he called a Cask. I’d never seen one before.”

  She shook her head and glowered. “I told them we should come to you. I told them six months ago. What else did Nick do or say?”

  I moved away from her, around the couch, and sat. She followed, and sat next to me.

  “Keep talking,” she said, in the same way detectives say the same words to suspects during an interrogation. She leveled a finger at my chest. “Or I’ll sabotage you.”

  I rolled my eyes. She didn’t have a chance to win that award over me. She was a huge star, but I was huger.

  “I took the Cask onstage with me. I thought he was just playing a joke.”

  “This is no joke.”

  I rubbed my neck. “So I can tell. During intermission, he swapped the wooden part out for a new one and cast a spell that rejuvenated my body. When I finished the concert ten minutes ago, I came back here. He took the Cask, and left.”

  She closed her eyes, shook her head, and sighed. “You let him take the emotion?”

  I started to defend myself, but she leaned in close, her eyes intense.

  “What else did he say?”

  “Uh, he said lots of things. Used a pretty large number of words. You know, like people tend to do when they talk.”

  “Did he say anything specific?”

  “He said he’d changed his ways. That you all think he’s a terrible person, but that he’s changed. He’s not like that, anymore.”
<
br />   She shrugged and waved the comment off. “He’s lying.”

  “He said you would say that.”

  Her back stiffened and she lifted an eyebrow. “Oh really? Well don’t believe him—because if you do, it’ll be really bad news for you.”

  I considered standing and stepping away, but instead slid back along the couch. “He said he wanted to use the emotion to make brink that could defeat the Solar Flare. He also said he wanted the world to know about brink.”

  She sucked in her breath through bared teeth. It made her look like a vampire ready to strike. With what I’d seen so far that night, I wasn’t about to take any chances. So I jerked to my feet and stepped back. She followed, and reached out to me. I dodged and started to turn, but she was too fast for me. Or rather, she was more desperate than me. If I’d known she was so serious about all this, I’d have moved faster.

  She yanked me close, again. Her face took up my entire field of view. Her scent of apples and mint filled my nose. I could have just leaned over two inches and kissed her.

  But why would I want to do that?

  Exactly. I wouldn’t.

  I hadn’t ever even kissed Sandra, as much as I would have liked to. Despite Mom’s lectures against such things.

  “Did he say,” she said, “how he planned to do that?”

  I shook my head, careful to keep my face from moving closer to hers. “Not a word.”

  She narrowed her eyes and stared at me for a moment before shoving me away.

  “We should get you to SOaP. Not that it will fix things. The damage is done. There may be nothing else we can do until he comes back to you, again.”

  She stepped back and took from her purse a vial almost identical to Nick’s container of brink, except hers was light blue. She unscrewed the cap and poured brink into the palm of one hand, then closed her hand.

  She turned her back toward me and raised her closed fist to the air. She opened her palm, and began to draw a circle in the air, starting at the top and moving counterclockwise. The brink hung in the air and tinkled. When she’d finished drawing the circle, she drew a squiggly line from the top of the circle to the bottom.

  “What does this spell do?” I said.

  The last of the brink had rubbed off her hand into the air. She turned to look at me as she reached into her pocket.