Labyrinth Society

by Angie Kelly

  "You're not going to stop asking, are you?” sighed Devon.

  "If you tell me I won't have to ask anymore."

  "Alright. OSO stands for object of supernatural origin." She paused like she was waiting for me to burst out laughing, which I would have before I got sucked to France through a garden labyrinth and started seeing ghosts.

  "Go on."

  "They're objects with special powers, curses, or sometimes even spirits attached to them."

  "Are they dangerous?"

  "Sometimes. But we're pros. We've been trained how to handle them," she said matter-of-factly.

  "So then what happened with Carter Brooks?" I asked. Devon's head whipped around.

  "How do you know about him?"

  "I overheard Alex and Mrs. T. talking about a job you did for him and whatever he hired you to find turning out to be an OSO," I said, mimicking Alex's accent.

  "It's not funny, Mia, it was nightmare," she replied with a shudder. "Mrs. T. doesn't like working for private collectors, but Carter Brooks is billionaire who owns Brooks Labs Cosmetics. He told us he wanted to start a history museum of cosmetic arts going all the way back to ancient times."

  "What did he hire you to find?"

  "It was called the Urn of Alexandria. It's an ancient Egyptian relic used by Cleopatra to mix her cosmetics. It took us forever to track it down. But once we handed it over to Brooks, we found out he'd lied to us. There was never going to be any museum. He wanted the urn for his wife."

  "But I read his wife was a supermodel? Why'd she want some old urn?"

  "Fiona was popular about ten years ago. But she was getting old and was losing her looks. Her career was over. Cleopatra was not beautiful. According to Tomi, the movies got it all wrong. But Cleopatra was a pro at using make-up to enhance her looks and make people think she was much better looking than she actually was. In reality it was the urn she was using to mix her cosmetics. It was cursed by a priest loyal to her little brother Ptolemy the thirteenth in revenge for killing him so she could have the throne all to herself. Each time Cleopatra used the urn, it stole a little piece of her sanity."

  "And this Brooks guy didn't realize the urn was cursed?”

  "No," said Devon, shaking her head. "Brooks had been planning a new line of cosmetics inspired by Cleopatra. He found out about the urn and what it could do when he was researching ancient Egyptian cosmetic techniques. Since there was no way to make Fiona younger, and she was terrified of surgery, Brooks thought if she used the urn for her own make-up it would give her the same illusion of beauty Cleopatra had and revive her modeling career. He must not have read the fine print. Most people don't. All they ever see is the reward. They never pay attention to what it's going to cost them when they use a cursed relic."

  "What happened to Fiona?"

  "The same thing as Cleo," she said.

  "You mean she killed herself?" I asked in amazement.

  "Yep. The urn takes the best part of a person as payment for using it. Since Cleo wasn't beautiful it was her mind. And it took what was left of Fiona's beauty bit by bit until her face was completely unrecognizable. She jumped off the roof of their penthouse in Manhattan."

  "What happened to the urn?"

  "Brooks smashed it. But we retrieved the pieces and they're in our vault back home for safe keeping."

  "You mean in those rooms up on the third floor? Isn't it dangerous to keep it in the house?" I knew I wasn't crazy. I did hear something moving around in one of those rooms.

  "Don't worry. The vault is heavily armed and protected. Nothing in there can get out or hurt anybody. Dr. Tarpley personally designed it himself."

  "So," I said, looking over at Devon and knowing what I was about to ask next was going to tick her off. "The kidnappers want something from the vault, don't they?"

  "What makes you think that?" she asked without looking at me.

  "You're only twelve, so I don't think you have any money to pay a ransom. But you have access to a vault full of supernatural objects. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out." Devon hesitated for a moment before pulling a small, black, velvet pouch from her backpack and handing to me.

  Inside was a long, thin, fine silver cord. It wasn't a chain; it was very strong and flexible. I pulled it out and held it up to the light and it shimmered like moonlight on a lake.

  "It's an astral cord," she said before I could ask. "Have you ever heard of astral projection?" I shook my head no.

  "It's an out-of-body experience when your spiritual body separates from your physical body, usually when you're asleep. You loop this cord around your wrist before you go to bed and it connects your physical body to your spirit or astral body so the two won't get separated when you travel outside your body."

  "And the kidnappers want this? Why?"

  Devon sighed and rolled her eyes. "Think about it, Mia. If you could travel outside your body, think of all the things you could do and places you could go without ever getting caught. You find out all kinds of secret information. Information people would pay a lot of money for."

  "You mean like being an invisible spy?" I whispered.

  "Now you're getting it," she said. "We took this from a phony psychic who was using it to spy on her clients and find out all kinds of stuff about them before she did readings for them.” Devon stared at the cord and frowned.

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  "Nothing. I just remember this thing being a lot longer the last time I saw it." She took the cord from me and put it back in her bag and stood up. "I think this is our stop."

  ****

  We found the Jardin des Plantes, which had four museums on its grounds. After a ten minute hike, we found the labyrinth, which was nowhere near as nice as the one on the Tarpley estate, but still pretty impressive. But Devon and I stood in the center holding hands and concentrating on Versailles with all our might and the only thing we got for our troubles… was a headache. Devon didn't take it well at all.

  "There are too many other people here! It's interfering with our signal to the other side." She stomped around like a crazy person before taking out her frustration by putting her foot through the nearest hedge and scaring an old couple on the other side. "We've only got thirty-seven minutes to get there!"

  "Okay, calm down. We can't tell them to leave. We just need to find another labyrinth."

  "We can't just pull another labyrinth out of thin air, Mia! By the time we find another one it'll be too late to save anybody!"

  I decided right then and there I liked snarky, rude Devon much better than hysterical, freaking out Devon. But something she said made me think of yesterday when I was in my room looking up stuff on Dr. Tarpley.

  "You're right. We can't pull another labyrinth out of thin air but maybe we can make one." I set my backpack down and rummaged through it until I found the plastic box I kept my drawing pencils in and pulled out a small piece of chalk.

  "Make one? Are you serious? We don't have time for any of your dumb ideas!"

  "If you've got a better idea then I suggest you bring it. Otherwise, plug your pie hole and Google a book called Power in the Design. Now!" I yelled when she just stood there staring.

  "Dr. Tarpley's book?" she finally asked as her thumbs worked the tiny keyboard on her phone.

  "Yeah, and it's got a bunch of drawings in it of the ancient Greek and Roman labyrinth designs he uncovered during his digs. I bet you anything the labyrinth Lily's grandfather designed is based on one of these designs."

  Once Devon found the book online, we had to choose a labyrinth. There were half a dozen of them and they were all pretty similar with the same square barcode design. But I wanted to pick the right one. I didn't want to have to do this again.

  "Just pick one," prodded Devon impatiently.

  "Don't rush me," I snapped. "It's not like I can see it very well on that tiny screen of yours."

  I finally chose a design labeled, Lyon Dig/Labyrinth number 5, which was the closest to the labyrinth at the Tarp
ley estate, and wondered if this was the same dig in Lyon, France Dr. Tarpley had disappeared from. Next, I needed a large flat area where I could draw.

  "Look! There's a museum over there," said Devon, pointing into the distance to a large building. "Let's see if there's a parking lot you can draw it on."

  We ran back through gardens to the La Grande Galerie de l'Évolution. Like most of the buildings in Paris, it was big and old-looking with a double row of arched windows. There was a statue on the front lawn. We didn't have time to look for a parking lot, but there was a large sidewalk out in front of the museum with more than enough space for what we needed.

  "But everyone will see us," complained Devon. I gave her an evil look and she shut up.

  "So what? Maybe they'll just think its museum exhibit on hopscotch."

  "Well, does it have to be pink?" Her nose was crinkled like she smelled something bad.

  "It's the only color chalk I had, Miss Purple Cell Phone. Now, shut up and let me work," I said, glaring at her.

  First I made a four-foot square, which was the easy part. The hard part was drawing the labyrinth design in the middle. I didn't have a ruler and knew the lines inside weren't even. It wasn't pretty, but we didn't have enough time to worry about it. We needed quick and dirty. While I worked, a small crowd had formed as Devon patrolled the perimeter of our makeshift labyrinth like a watchdog mean-mugging everyone and daring them to step foot inside. We now had twenty-two minutes to get to Versailles.

  "Uh-oh, hurry up, Mia," said Devon.

  Sweat and sun were in my eyes and I wiped them with the back of my hand before I could see what she was talking about. A museum security guard was standing at the top of the museum steps watching us as he talked into his walkie-talkie. I bent down in a hurry to add the two final touches — two large circles with the same symbols as the copper disks in the center of the labyrinth at the Tarpley estate. I grabbed Devon's arm and pulled her inside just as the guard started down the steps to see what we were up to. Devon and I each stood on a chalk circle, held hands, closed our eyes and concentrated. Hard. At first it seemed like nothing was happening, and I heard Devon sigh.

  "Concentrate," I said as I squeezed her hands. She shut up.

  Suddenly, my hand, the one holding Devon's ringed one, got warm. A crackle of electricity was in the air, which smelled slightly of rotten eggs. I opened one eye. A thin, blue beam of light was coming from Devon's ring. But it was weak and kept breaking apart like pieces of dry spaghetti. The pieces of light fell onto the concrete where they writhed wormlike and crackled with electricity. When the light worms touched the chalk symbols inside the circles we were standing on, the symbols turned blue and shot beams of bright light up into the sky before melting away and turning the circles into swirling, blue, disks beneath our feet. The crowd gasped and stepped back as the security guard came charging towards us.

  The next thing I knew, the concrete beneath our feet was suddenly gone, and Devon and I were sucked down. It was like plunging down the first big hill on The Beast roller coaster at Kings Island without a being strapped inside a car or connected to a track. I was screaming, but the only sound was wind whistling past my ears. It was also pitch dark. I started tumbling end over end and then realized I'd let go of Devon's hand. I hoped she was okay. This morning's labyrinth trip was nothing compared to this. The only thing I remembered about my first trip through was waking up sick and completely disoriented. This time I was Alice and I'd fallen down the rabbit hole. I wondered if it was because only one ring was used. Maybe there needed to be multiple rings to make the trip smoother.

  I finally started to slow down and float. A warm breeze ruffled my hair and made my T-shirt balloon. It was still dark but something twinkled in the gloom like stars briefly illuminating the dark in quick bursts of light. Inside each flash of light, I could see people, men, women, and children. Some of them were dressed in modern clothes and others in old stuff, hoop skirts like Marie Antoinette, knee breeches like the little ghost boy, and even hats like the Pilgrims wore. I didn't recognize any of them, but I could tell they were surprised to see me. And some of them didn't look happy. A super bright light blinded me. I put up a hand to shield my eyes. I heard a sound. No, not a sound, it was a voice. Her voice.

  "Mia."

  "Grandma?" I said, and there was my grandma bathed in rays of bright white light floating before me and looking just like she had the last time I saw her alive. She hugged me tight and even smelled like her favorite perfume. I didn't want to let her go, but she gently pried my arms from around her waist and put her hands on my cheeks.

  "Listen, honey, you can't stay here. You're on the wrong side of the barrier. If the dead know a living person can see them, they won't give you a minute's peace. If you see another ghost, ignore it. Never let anyone know you can see the unseen. You hear me?"

  "But I wanna stay with you," I said, grabbing her waist again.

  "No!" she pushed me away. "This isn't the place for you. We'll see each other again one day. I promise."

  "You promise." Hot tears were streaming down my cheeks.

  "I promise, honey. But if you stay here any longer, you won't be able to get back through the barrier. Now go!" She kissed my forehead, then slowly dissolved into a million pinpoints of light, leaving nothing behind but her scent.

  "Grandma!" I screamed. I reached out for her and was surprised to grab hold of something solid.

  "Mia, let go of me! I'm not your grandma."

  "Devon?" I let go of the death grip on her shirt. We were sitting on a dirt path surrounded by high green hedges I instantly recognized. "We're back at the Versailles gardens! We made it!"

  "Yeah, and it's a good thing we didn't have any further to go. My ring wouldn't have had enough juice to get us there," said Devon.

  "How far away are the others?"

  "Two miles away," she said nonchalantly like it was only as far as the nearest corner.

  "Two miles! How are we supposed to get there?"

  "Don't worry," she replied. "You got us this far. I'll get us the rest of the way."

  ****

  Once Devon and I were in the parking lot in front of the palace, she scanned the crowded lot but wouldn't tell me who or what she was looking for. I was so self-conscious. Even though we'd escaped from the security office hours ago, I was paranoid someone would recognize us.

  "There," she said, pointing to a man with his back to us, unlocking a blue Vespa scooter. Devon pulled a glasses case out of her backpack and charged across the lot with me on her heels.

  "I didn't know you wore glasses."

  "I don't. Just make sure you don't look in my eyes once I put them on. Got it?"

  "Whatever." I said, falling in step behind her.

  Devon took a pair of ugly, black, horn-rimmed glasses out of the case, put them on, and then tapped the man with the blue Vespa on the shoulder. He turned around and wouldn't you know it, it was none other than Security Dude. He was not happy to see us.

  "You!" he said, grabbing Devon's arm and getting right in her face, "are in a lot of trouble young lady! I almost lost my job because of you two!"

  "Crap!" said Devon, trying to pull away. I'm guessing this wasn't in her master plan.

  But, Security Dude instantly let go of her arm and unbuckled his belt. His face was slack. His pupils were spinning like pinwheels.

  "No, no, no!" shouted Devon. "I didn't mean for you to crap… for real. I meant… oh forget it! Just give me your scooter!"

  Security Dude handed Devon the keys and stepped aside.

  "Don't just stand there, Mia. Get on." She turned the key in the ignition and the Vespa roared to life.

  "Do you even know how to drive this thing?" I asked as I reluctantly climbed on behind her.

  "No. But how hard can it be?"

  She revved the engine with the handles and used her foot to push off. We went flying forward and almost crashed into the side of a florist's van. I covered my eyes, so sure we were about to bec
ome pancakes, but Devon turned just in time.

  "Watch out!" I screamed as she plowed through a group of African vendors selling T-shirts. Merchandise went flying everywhere.

  "Somebody stop those girls!" Security Dude must have come to his senses, because he chased us around the lot screaming. Unfortunately for him, he'd forgotten to fasten his belt and his pants, fell down sending him sprawling flat on his face.

  "Eat my dust!" called out Devon as we flew out of the parking lot, leaving a long scrape down the side of a passing BMW on the way out. "Here, Mia. You can navigate." She handed me her cell over her shoulder.

  "What were those crazy glasses about?" I asked as we zipped through the narrow cobbled streets of Versailles.

  "They're Kreskin's glasses."

  "Who?" I asked.

  "The Amazing Kreskin. He's a famous TV mentalist. He can read minds. But back in the sixties he was a hypnotist. These are an old pair of his glasses. I always take them on missions in case of an emergency."

  "Then why didn't you just use them on Sister Ruth to get your phone back? Then we wouldn't have had to go all the way to Paris."

  "Because Sister Catherine got all lunatic linebacker on me before I could get to them, remember? Besides, you saw what happened back there — the effects only last for a few minutes. Now, which way do I turn?"

  "Left at the next corner."

  ****

  Ten minutes later, we pulled up in front of a stone farmhouse next to an open field. It was starting to get dark now, and though there was a light on in the house, I couldn't see anyone moving around inside.

  "What in the world could they be doing here?" asked Devon.

  "I wonder whose house this is." A mailbox was mounted on a pole next to the front gate. I opened it and pulled out two pieces of mail. One was a clothing catalog from a store called H & M. The other was a letter from a place called Tranquility Nursing Home in Boca Raton, Florida. Both were addressed to someone named Amelia Worth.