by C. P. Rider
"I have got to stop teaching you slang words," I muttered.
"Either that or one really, really big worm."
The mountain kept growing. Soon, it had grown taller than the house next to it, and still the worm, or worms, had not emerged. Thankfully, the house and the surrounding neighborhood had been cleared of all residents. Only the unwelcome visitors remained.
"Hey. Do you still have that malodorous root?"
"Of course." Cindy pulled the test tube filled with green stuff out of her pocket, handed it to me. "Careful. Even a few drops of this will bring whatever is about to jump out of that mountain of dirt right to you."
A red-hatted garden gnome opened Danford Martindale's white picket fence and chucked a screeching plastic flamingo into the street. The bird landed on its back, kicking its metal rod legs in the air. One rod fell off and landed with a clang on the asphalt, then rolled into the rain gutter. The gnome cackled.
"I'm counting on it," I said.
Chirping what I was sure were obscenities, the lawn flamingo popped up on its single leg and bounced back through the gate. A second later, the red-hatted gnome went flying over the fence, landing on the sidewalk with an audible crack.
"Cindy, we're going to need a lot of boysenberries."
36
Cindy coordinated the boysenberry-gathering efforts. It turned out that several of her mom's gardening club friends lived near the park. Many of them grew boysenberries for the sacred garden altar.
In a surprising turn of events, the Elites began taking orders from Cindy as she pointed out where the berries grew and told them how to pick them so that the gnomes would eat them.
"Honestly, gnomes aren't that picky. They'll eat the berries any way if they're hungry. But if you twist them off like this, they'll eat them even if they're full." Cindy found an atomizer in one of the gardener's sheds to spritz the boysenberries with malodorous root. "Even if they stink."
The strange mountain in the street was now two stories high and slowing. "Hurry," I said. "I think that thing is about to burst."
"Only if they smell us. Otherwise they'll go somewhere else." Cindy crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side. "Still, they should have busted through by now. I wonder why they haven't." She inspected the two wheelbarrows filled with berries. "This is good enough. Let's do this."
Gilda ran over, towing a young boy with black hair and a wide smile behind her. "This is my cousin Jeremy. He'll push the wheelbarrow to the gnomes for us."
I frowned. "Gilda, he's a child. I can't let him—"
"Go ahead, Jeremy."
The wheelbarrow shuddered, once, twice, then shot off toward Danford Martindale's front yard. A second later, it was back.
"Whoa," I said.
"My cousin is only six, but he's a fifth generation telekinetic Elite." Gilda's smile was smug. "The strongest in his family."
"Are you ready, Jeremy?" Cindy asked. "Because once I spray this, we have to move fast."
Jeremy nodded. "Say when."
Cindy sprayed the first wheelbarrow. "Now."
While the first batch rolled up through the front gate of Mr. Martindale's house, Cindy spritzed the second batch. "Now."
Gilda put her hand on her cousin's small shoulder. "You're doing great, Jeremy. Push it right up through the gate."
He did, and the gnomes attacked the berries in a frenzied mob, like a school of piranhas on a hunk of dead meat. The flamingos hung back after sniffing the fruit. Cindy had said they might detect the malodorous root, as their taste buds tended to be more refined, but she was certain the gnomes wouldn't.
"They're eating the berries." Gilda sounded surprised.
"Lawn gnomes are pure id," Cindy said. "They're only interested in what feels good to them—often to their own detriment."
Javier Rivas, the older Elite teenager from the chimera incident, cleared his throat. I hadn't even realized he was in our group, which was a good indication of my level of distraction, since he was pretty noticeable.
"You're smart about creatures, Cindy. We're lucky to have you here." Javier shot Gilda an approving look. "Good call putting her in charge."
Gilda said nothing. I said nothing. Cindy said nothing. There was a lot of saying nothing going on with a background of obnoxious eating noises from the gnomes a block down.
"Something is happening with the worm mountain." Javier's face reddened and sweat dripped down the sides of his face.
"Can't you petrify it?" Gilda asked.
"What do you think I'm trying to do?" Javier snapped. "If it weren't for me, that thing would have burst open by now. But there are too many of them and I can't hold them back much longer."
"There's more than one?" I asked. "That's a relief."
"How is that a relief?" The veins stood out on Javier's temples.
"Can you imagine the size of the worm if it was only one?"
"She has a point," Gilda said.
"Is that Samuel and Aedan?" Cindy pointed toward the other side of the sacred gardens, opposite Worm Mountain.
"What are you doing here?" I asked as they approached. "You're supposed to be on the front lines."
"This is the new front line," Samuel said.
"The worms changed direction," Aedan replied. "Fast. It was weird. Sam turned on his robo-ears and we followed them here."
I'd had a back of my mind suspicion that was the case when the mountain appeared. Were the nasty things learning how to cooperate? That couldn't be good.
"Gross." Aedan grimaced at the monstrosity in the middle of the street. "That thing looks like a giant zit."
"Uh-oh." Samuel took a step back.
Javier shuddered with effort. Aedan wrinkled his nose, and Cindy's eyes flew wide open.
"The worms are coming too fast. I can't petrify this many," Javier said.
"Let's hope this plan of yours works," Gilda said to me.
"Plan of ours," I corrected, with a nod at Cindy, who gave me a nervous smile.
"Plan to run the hell out of here, now!" The words burst out of Javier as the worms burst free of the dirt mountain.
"No worries, bruh. I'm already gone—" Thunk. Aedan's eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped to the grass in a crumpled heap.
I knelt beside him, pried open one of his eyelids. "Aedan?"
"Huh. The ginger pepper didn't last as long as I thought it would," Cindy said.
"He's fine." Samuel picked up Aedan like he weighed nothing, and flung him over his shoulder.
"But we aren't. Let's move!" Javier yelled.
As one, we spun. Gilda held tight to Jeremy's hand while Javier grabbed mine and Cindy's. Samuel, with Aedan's limp form slung over his shoulder, scowled at Javier. We ran like our lives depended on it—which they did.
Mom and Dad had made me attend Sunday School as a child, and though I hadn't been in years, I'd never forgotten the story of Lot's wife. While Lot and his family fled the burning cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, Lot's wife turned back for one last look and turned into a pillar of salt.
I knew this story, and yet I couldn't help it. I had to know.
A quick glance over my shoulder showed me five truck-sized worms poking through the stiffened translucent bodies of the worms Javier had petrified. At first, they headed in our direction—five, no, ten, twenty, oozing, grotesque, eyeless tubes writhing toward us.
The worm in front halted. Then the next.
And the next.
The entire group flopped their big bodies around, knocking over garbage cans, trampling trees and bushes, basically destroying everything in their path, and headed in the opposite direction.
"It's working," I said, and dropped Javier's hand.
Cindy did the same, turned around. Neither of us was a pillar of salt or a worm snack, so I figured it was okay to keep watching.
"What are they doing?" Samuel asked. He and Javier had stopped to look, too. Gilda and Jeremy had already turned the corner and disappeared.
"Oh, wow. That's unfo
rtunate," Javier winced.
"Depends how you look at it," I said. "Mr. Martindale will be happy."
The first few gnomes were unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on your point of view—slurped up by the giant worms. After that, the little creatures began scampering for their lives, their ceramic boots making a hollow, stampeding sound as they sped away from the worms. The worms chased the gnomes, which headed straight toward the mountains bordering the Beyond.
Without speaking a word, we took off after them. We had to see for ourselves that the worms were gone.
Other Elites joined us as we ran toward the outskirts of Dead End, the worms a mile or so ahead of us, the gnomes tiny red and blue blurs beyond them. When they reached the mountains, there was a rumbling sound and a mighty screech.
I stumbled, nearly fell. "Is that the—"
"Chimera," Cindy said. "She's back. And look! She brought her family. Aww."
The chimera sat up tall, her eyes glowing with excitement. Around her, three smaller chimeras had popped out of the earth, their serpent tails wagging, and then two older chimeras, and finally, what I was going to call the daddy chimera, since he was as big as the female, but with a thicker body and mane.
The chimeras squeaked and screeched and sang with delight as they snatched the limpid worms out of the ground and gobbled them up.
Their appetites were unending. I counted twenty-three worms guzzled down by one chimera alone. They ate until the limpid worms stopped coming, then lounged on their backs in the rocks and basked in the noonday sunshine.
37
"You didn't hurt anyone did you, Loops?"
Dad was staring at me from my grandpas' living room sofa with worried eyes. Abuelo Emilio had set him up with a pillow and blanket, so he was as comfortable as he was going to get. Since the medical clinic had been evacuated with the rest of the town, my grandfather had tended to Dad's wounds himself.
"Some lawn gnomes. A bunch of worms," I replied, my tone dull and flat. I glared at Abuelo. "How is he awake? Aedan dropped like a stone a couple of hours ago."
Abuelo was in the chair beside the sofa. He lowered his newspaper so I could see his face. "I've been dosing him with ginger pepper since we got home. We had some here. Your grandfather uses it in his chicken marsala." He held up a hand. "It's perfectly safe. Once you've fully acclimated to Sanctum, it has no effect except to spice up your food and settle your stomach, in small doses."
"Why did you keep him awake? He should be resting."
"He demanded to stay awake until he knew you were safe. His next dose is in fifteen minutes, but now that we know you're safe, I won't be giving him anymore." He raised the newspaper again.
I'd headed straight home after the chimeras returned to the mountains with full bellies and sunshine-warmed bodies. Cindy had gone home too. Samuel had agreed to put Aedan up for now, though with Aedan's mouth and Samuel's grumpiness, that might not last long. Good thing he was still passed out.
My dad frowned. "Worms and gnomes? What?"
"Never mind. Just know that your daughter wasn't a murderous monster today. Of course, there's always tomorrow." I looked around the room. "Where's Grandpa Holli?"
"Loops, that's not what I meant. Why do you say things like that?"
"She said it because that is what you meant." Abuelo folded his newspaper and set it aside. "You question her the way you'd interrogate one of your criminals. You tell her you don't think she's a monster, yet you treat her as though she is one. And then, when she brings attention to your attitude, you push the blame on her for mentioning it."
It made me sad that Dad was so transparent even Abuelo saw through him, but it also comforted me. I wasn't crazy or wrong. Dad did hate my ability, and he was terrified I'd end up a monster.
"I'm sorry if I—"
"That, not if. You are sorry that you made her feel like a monster," Abuelo corrected. "You are sorry that you made her feel guilty for saving your life. You are sorry that you made her feel bad for something outside of her control."
Dad went silent for a long minute, but he was thinking. I could practically hear the thoughts racing through his mind.
"How did Hollister get hurt?" Dad didn't look at me when he asked the question, but I knew he was talking to me. "Why does he have stitches?"
"It was my fault. I lost control," I whispered.
"See? That's what I'm talking about." His handsome face fell. "I know you'd never intentionally hurt your grandfather, but you did it because you were using your ability. You have to stop. Your mother told me that the ability you both have is dangerous, and that I should never encourage you to use it."
Low. I felt low and terrible. Not only had I disappointed Dad, but I'd also somehow managed to disappoint Mom.
"I told my daughter those things." A long, loud sigh escaped from Abuelo. "Years ago, I used my ability to open a tear in the membrane between our worlds, in order to banish Kilshaw Sterling to your side of the Divide. In doing so, I weakened it and left the citizens here open to dangerous things. My guilt caused me to raise my daughter to fear her ability the way I feared mine."
Dad nodded. "That's what she told me."
"I was wrong to teach her that."
"Abuelo?" I lifted my head.
"Instead of teaching her to control her ability, I taught her to run from it. That didn't work very well, did it, Maria? Because you were never taught how to handle your ability, you didn't know how to stop it and your grandfather was hurt. But that isn't your fault. It is not your mother's fault, either. It is mine."
The bedroom door down the hall creaked open and Toby shot out. He bounded into my arms and licked my face.
When Toby finished with me, he leapt onto the sofa with Dad and gave him the same treatment. "Hey boy. I'm happy to see you, too." Slowly, gingerly, Dad reached into his back pocket. "Brought you something, pup."
It was a slightly gnawed and dusty dog chew. Toby's favorite. His furry ears perked up and his tail wagged.
I grinned. "You had that in your pocket? Why?"
"I wanted to have it with me for when I found you two again," Dad said.
"You were looking for us?"
"Of course I was looking for you, Loops. How do you think Kilshaw found me? He went back to the abandoned café where I was camped out, trying to figure out a way to get you back home."
The idea that he'd worked so hard to keep his promise warmed my heart. "I still can't believe you kept that old piece of rawhide."
"It's not rawhide. It's made with this special stuff that's healthier for dogs."
"Elfin leather?" Abuelo asked.
"What is that?" Dad asked.
I closed my eyes and crossed my fingers. "Please don't tell me it's made from real elf skin."
Dad's face lost color.
"Real elves?" Abuelo chuckled. "Listen to yourself, Maria. There's no such thing as a real elf."
"Thank goodness." Dad's face regained some of its lost color. "What is Elfin leather made of, then?"
"The bark of the Elfin tree."
Relief swept through me. "Tree bark. Okay, yes. That sounds much less awful."
"Indeed." He picked up a different newspaper, this time it was the Arcadia Valley Press, and flipped it over in his hands. "Though the trees do scream when they're being de-barked. They volunteer for it because they're compensated well, and because it's against the law to harvest the bark, fruit, or branches of any tree in Sanctum without said tree's consent. But it's a painful process."
I faced my dad. "This is why you don't ask questions here."
Abuelo shrugged and stared down at his paper.
"Why are you always reading a newspaper?" I asked. "Every time I see you, you've got a different newspaper in your hands."
Abuelo pointed at a news story buried on the next-to-last page of the paper, sandwiched between a recipe for chupacabra meat chili and an article on how to summon garden spirits to chase away tomato hornworms.
"Sisters of the Sanctum Origi
nals meeting. Bring your genetic ID and your best ideas to the Good Eastern Inn, six p.m., September 30th." I frowned. "Sounds like a boring meeting."
"It's anything but boring, Maria. It's the most dangerous news in this paper." He flipped to the front page where the headline described a bus overturning and injuring sixteen people in Sanctum City. "Far more dangerous than this."
"I don't understand."
"Supposedly disenfranchised Elites have been gathering. Smaller meetings for now, but that's where it starts."
"Where what starts?" Dad asked.
"Revolution." Abuelo resumed reading his paper.
None of us spoke for a while. Toby snatched the chewy from my dad and trotted to one of his many beds to give it his full attention.
"Maria. Thank the gods." Grandpa Holli shuffled down the hallway. His face was already starting to bruise. "After we saw your note, we worried ourselves sick."
I stood, hurried over to his side, helped him walk into the room. "I'm sorry, Grandpa. I was ashamed of myself for hurting you."
"Well, it seems to me that the window hurt me, not my granddaughter."
"I made the window break."
"Did you?" He glanced at his husband. "There was more than one earthmover in that room. Also, I'm smart enough to know not to step in between two Elites when they're in high spirits. We all own a small portion of blame. You no more than your abuelo and me."
"Thank you for saying that." I blinked back tears.
"It's the truth." He gripped the back of a dining room chair with one hand and held out the other. "I'm glad you're back home, Maria."
I let out an embarrassing sob-gasp and hugged him tight. "I love you, Grandpa."
He kissed the top of my head. "I love you too. No more running away. Your abuelo, Toby, and I were absolutely distraught."
When I’d first got to Dead End, I'd wanted nothing more than to return to my world. It was all I thought about, my entire focus. Then I met Cindy. And Samuel. I saw ceramic gnomes and lawn flamingos take over a man's yard. I met a dentist who was also a merman, and I fought a giant worm for my dog—and a whole bunch more for my town.
