Chapter 26: Chasing Answers
The golden cloak disappears into a sea of costumes and into the coming darkness.
I unclench my hand.
There in my palm, sits the one thing I hold dear, even though the item had not been with me long. I gaze at it, overwhelmed with having it returned, the birthday gift Ray gave me months ago—my mom’s bracelet. The square emerald glistens under the street lamps; the diamonds twinkle like stars.
I clutch the bracelet to my chest and sob from sheer happiness. I’ll see Mom again. Soon. This will take me where I desperately want to go.
After I tuck the relic into my corset, Bishop appears, frantically weaving through the crowd toward me. I wipe my tears with my fingertips and wait for him to catch up.
A confrontation may start immediately. He’ll be confused, but he should understand. He’s very taken. I can’t be that girl. The one that just takes, not considering others’ feelings, even if that someone is Perpetua.
Bishop doesn’t slow when he approaches. Fear veils his eyes. “Sera! Run!” he yells over the buzz of the crowd.
I don’t ask why; I just do. I clutch the mask relic in my hand, readying to make the transition, but as he catches up, I realize we’ll never gain enough speed to wander. Too many people crowd the narrow streets.
A gigantic booming sound rocks the city. It rattles me to the core, and I stop, confused, to see what’s happened.
“Fireworks!” Bishop yells. He grabs my hand and yanks me forward.
“What’s going on?”
“The Underground. They’re back!”
“The who?”
“Underground,” he says again as we zigzag in and out of the bodies. “The gang chasing you last week.”
“They have a name?” My mind whirls, but I keep moving. I knew I should have asked him about them earlier. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew who they were?”
“Not now, Sera!”
Bishop recklessly steers me around a corner. When we turn, I look back, catching a glimpse of them. All four disgusting shapes descend, hot on our tracks. Somehow, they navigate the crowd faster than us.
Boom!
Crackle!
Fireworks light up the night sky. People halt in groups to watch the beautiful light display, making maneuvering around them impossible. They stand statue-still, unwittingly blocking every entrance and exit.
“We’ll never be able to leave with all these people!” I yell over the applause.
“The bell tower in Piazza San Marco!” he yells.
We bolt around another corner. The city walls disappear and open into the expansive piazza of San Marco. But still, there’s not enough room to run. Too many tourists linger.
My eyes shoot to the tower, and his last words click. “No! Are you crazy?” Bishop plans to jump from the top of the bell tower, just as we did last week in Team Tactics. I can’t do it. I won’t. There’s no pool as a backup. No bungee cord to save us. My mind seizes into paralyzing fear.
Another crash and explosion fills the sky with sparkling silver lights.
“No!” I scream, pulling him in a new direction.
“It’s the only option.” He pulls back. “Hurry, Sera!” I give in and run with him. He’s stronger than me, and the gang is closer.
The stench of rot and decaying garbage burns my nostrils. I smell the gang before I see them. When they come into view, I lock eyes with the leader. His familiar face twists with rage. He and his group push tourists to the ground instead of running around them. Everything near them suffuses with a puke-green color. I imagine them drooling at the thought of finally killing me.
We slow as we reach the base of the tower. Bishop yanks at the doorknob, but it’s locked.
“Stand back!” he yells, pushing me aside. Then, with one swift kick of his foot, he demolishes the ancient door. It falls off the hinges in pieces. Shards scatter at my feet.
“You first!” he yells over explosions and cheering crowds.
I dash up the steps, around and around in the dark spiraling space. A few times I stumble, but keep moving by crawling until I can upright myself. When we come to a landing at the midpoint, I start to take off my skirt.
“Sera, now is hardly the time!” Bishop stares, disconcerted and confused.
“Quick! Kick out that window!” I point to a nearby small void with shutters. He doesn’t question, he just trusts me.
I shimmy out of the hoop skirt. It hits the floor at the same time he kicks out a small, shuttered window. A stream of moonlight bursts through, revealing our perfect getaway, a long stretch of flat, uninterrupted roofline.
The gang pounds up the stairs behind us. Their steps echo and ricochet off the enclosed walls. They’re close—I can smell them again. But Bishop only stands immobilized by the sight of my undergarments. I try not to think about my lack of clothing. Instead, I run for the window.
“We’ll jump to the roof of the other building,” I say as I hoist myself out the tiny hole, one I would never fit through with a hoop skirt.
I crouch on the outside, digging my fingers in the crevices of loose mortar to steady myself. Trembling, I survey the massive jump before me, about five feet across the air and one hundred and fifty feet above Piazza San Marco. I hesitate.
“Jump, or we go to the top of the tower,” Bishop presses.
I turn my brain off and just do it. At the next firework explosion, I imagine the force catapulting me through the air, safely to the adjoining roof. It almost works. I catch the railing on the other side and dangle there.
“Bishop!” I scream, my legs kick, searching for a ledge to steady myself, but there’s nothing. My sweaty fingers start to slide off the marble edge.
“Bishop!”
When I glance back over my shoulder, Bishop tosses my folded hoop skirt out the window. The fabric catches air and parachutes in a bubble toward the ground. He’s smart, discarding any relic that will allow the gang to come after me.
“Hold on, I’m coming!”
His silhouette flies over me. The surface of the roof gives, bowing beneath his feet. Two strong hands wrap around my arms and drag me up and over the railing. We fall, entwined, onto the flat roof. The gang appears in the bell tower window. The leader steadies himself for the jump. At the moment he leaps, airborne, Bishop and I gather ourselves from the ground and run at full speed in the opposite direction. I clutch the mask relic with a keyword locked in my mind.
•
It’s easy enough to wander back to the piazza in Olde Town, but I don’t. Even though I’m not positive it will work, when I feel we’re close to landing, I push my thoughts a little further, bending the wormhole and reaching for a nearby location. We fall roughly onto the floor between two oversized bookshelves in the Relic Archives. As it turns out, the position of a landing can be manipulated.
“Blast, Sera! Where have you brought us?” Bishop sits up and looks around.
“Shh. Be quiet! I can’t tell you or you’ll tell Sam.”
“She’ll see it regardless, so you better hurry, whatever you’re doing.”
“Give me your jacket,” I say. He groans, shrugging out of it. Then he stands and takes his time to wrap it around me, allowing his arms to linger around my back for longer than necessary. Our eyes meet with tension for a long moment, and then I step around him.
“Stay here and don’t move!” I command. He rolls his eyes and leans back on a shelf with his arms crossed. I can see he’s agitated. For our almost-kiss? For bringing us here? Probably both.
I peek around the bookshelf toward the chatter. A class of students, using the relicutionist, is busy discussing their finds.
Dipping my fingers into my corset, I pull out the bracelet. Then I glance around the room, searching for the E.Y.E.S. Several blue flashing lights hang from the ceiling. One camera rotates in my direction. I attempt to act normal, like I belong. But if Terease is back, she’ll know I’m up to no good. How fast will she get here when she sees me?
With clenched fists, I hug Bishop’s jacket tightly to my body to hide my lack of clothing. The students finish, and I amble toward the relicutionist, acting nonchalant.
When I reach the machine, I open the glass lid and place Mom’s bracelet on the velvet tray. I close the dome lid, latching it into place. On the ancient keypad, I type in the keyword: Eliza Parrish. With both hands, I crank the rusted lever.
The ear-splitting contraption shakes violently. Steam spews out of the pipes that protrude from the top, and all the lights blink neon green. The oversized viewing tube fogs up and a lightning storm breaks out inside it.
A student points at me. I’m sure they realize that I don’t belong, but I wonder if anyone will alert Mr. Matchimus.
Concerned, I will the machine to move faster. I place my hands on the viewing tube and lean in, looking for any trace of an image.
Furious clouds rip around the edges of the glass, forming a tornado. The severity increases as the seconds pass. The relic glows within beaming tendrils, hovering over the velvet tray. I step back in anticipation of something—anything—but the relicutionist is taking longer than usual.
“It’s not working,” says the voice I love dearly. “Whatever you’re trying to find—it’s not there.” Bishop places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes.
“It is!” I smack the glass with my palm, fighting my tears. He’s wrong. He has to be.
“And she’s coming.” Bishop exhales. “Sam couldn’t stop her. Terease will be here in seconds. She’s back from wherever she’s been.” He revolves the lever, turning the machine off. Then he quickly removes the bracelet from the tray. We turn in just enough time to see Terease blast through the entrance, slamming the door into the wall.
“What’s happened?” her blood red lips demand. She stomps across the plank floor. “Why have you left your group?” If the wandering concept holds true, the field trip arrived back at the same time but in Olde Town.
Bishop steps in front of me. “The Underground, Terease. They’ve tracked Sera,” he says, in an attempt to justify our actions.
“The Underground," she hisses the word. The name means something to them but not to me. Her expression says she could kill someone, but before she lashes out, she inhales, closing her eyes and calming herself.
“Come with me,” she says and turns to leave.
I can’t. I won’t follow her. She’ll lock me in this school and throw away the key. As far as I know, Stu is still missing for his prank. Who knows what she’ll do to me for not reporting the Grungy Gang—Underground—whatever you want to call them.
I grab the bracelet from Bishop’s hand, and take off in the opposite direction, sprinting between the rows of ancient bookshelves.
“Stop her!” Terease yells.
I fly forward, airborne, through a cloud of wander dust. I slide across campus, skipping into my dorm room. When the wormhole spits me out, I slam into my bed. Bishop lies behind me near the pillows, barely grasping the tails of his jacket, which I’m still wearing.
“Get off!” I yell at him and kick his hands away.
The lunch bell rings.
“Blast, Sera! You’re going to get us expelled!”
“Exactly! What were you thinking?” Sam walks in the room and slams the door.
“What are you doing here?” I grunt as I roll off the bed, shoving Bishop aside.
“I’m here to help!” Sam’s face is fierce and she stomps her foot. If the situation weren’t so serious, I’d be tempted to giggle at the sight.
Instead, I roll my eyes. “I doubt it.”
Ignoring them, I dart for the closet. I start to rip off my clothes, then think better of it. “Turn around, Bishop!”
He groans, but does as I ask.
I pull out a mishmash of clothes and put them on: a pair of jeans from the day that I arrived, a shirt I wore in the Relic Archives, a cardigan for Olde Town, Mona’s medallion necklace, sneakers from the west Academy, and several other relics to keep me connected with the ability to wander from spot to spot through history and true time.
“I’m done,” I say as I button my pants.
Bishop turns. “Sera, whatever is going on, we can figure this out as a team. I believe Terease can help.”
“No! Stu hasn’t shown up yet, and he only played a prank. What’s Terease going to do to me for not telling her about the Underground? Besides, I’m on another mission.”
I start again, but I’m even more irritated now. “And that reminds me, you’ve been holding out on me. You knew who the gang was and didn’t tell me!” I point at him.
“No, that’s not it—” His eyes snap toward the door. “Terease is coming.”
“She’ll be here in a minute.” Sam runs to the door, plants an ear on it, and listens. They both must sense Terease with their abilities. No, they sense danger.
“You guys can’t help me with what I need to do.” I dash to the window, unlatch the lock, and slide the window open. I lean out and look down. My stomach churns.
“And what’s that, exactly?” Sam rushes up, ready to pull me back.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with either of you.” I face them.
“So what does it have to do with? We can help, if you’d let us!” she yells.
“You can’t help.”
“You haven’t given us a chance!” Sam’s fists clench at her side. She’s on the verge of a tantrum.
“You’re being absolutely ridiculous, Sera.” Bishop places his hand on Sam’s shoulder to calm her.
“Fine,” Sam resigns. “Put this on.” She hands over her antique watch. “It’ll wander to my room when you need us. You will need us.”
I slide the watch on, but this is not an act of acceptance, just insurance. “Thanks.”
My body shakes as I sit on the ledge. I swallow hard, then allow my legs to swing over the windowsill. My fingers wrap tightly around the garden lattice, and I hurl my body out into the freezing air. After two deep breaths, I place my feet carefully onto the winter-bare vines that descend the side of the building and climb down.
“Keep moving, Sera. It’s the only way to stay safe,” Bishop instructs from above, but I don’t look at him. I can’t.
Both my feet hit the ground, and I trudge through the snow toward the sidewalk. When I hit clear pavement, I run.
Wander Dust Page 26
