The Eighth Day

by Salerni, Dianne K.

  “Almost every night.” Enzo gripped his own throat with his hand as if trying to throttle himself. He wrenched away from Jax, stumbling against his buddies, who all burst out laughing.

  “Do you want me to keep asking questions?” Jax whispered.

  A spasm of fear crossed Enzo’s face. He broke and high-tailed it down the hall, shoving middle schoolers out of the way. Jax grinned triumphantly—and then he spotted the Donovan twins watching him from across the hall, their matching green eyes narrow with suspicion. Tegan whispered to her brother, who clenched his fists and stepped forward.

  Jax braced himself. You want some too? Bring it on, Thomas.

  Suddenly, Billy Ramirez stepped between them. “What did you just do?” he asked Jax, oblivious to Thomas behind him. “How did you do it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jax said gruffly.

  “Miss Cassidy and Giana’s brother. What’d you do to them?”

  “Nothing.” Jax elbowed past Billy and looked up and down the hall. The Donovans had vanished.

  Billy dogged his heels. “Don’t tell me nothing. I know what I saw.”

  Jax turned back to Billy. If there was anyone who’d believe the real story, it was this guy. His friend would think Grunsday was the most awesome thing since Doctor Who.

  “You can tell me,” Billy said.

  “No,” Jax whispered. “I really can’t.”

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  21

  LUCKILY, BILLY STAYED after school for robotics club, and Jax didn’t have to fend off more of his questions on the ride home. The bus disgorged Jax at the end of his block, and he spotted A.J.’s truck and Deidre’s T-bird parked in the street. He quickened his pace when he saw Deidre passing rifles from the back of her car to Mr. Crandall and A.J., who piled them into a foot locker in the bed of the truck.

  “What’s going on?” Jax demanded.

  “Talk to Riley,” Mr. Crandall said curtly.

  “Where’d the guns come from?” Jax stared at Deidre. Now she held a rifle that was almost as big as she was. Deidre might’ve been tiny, but she handled the gun like she knew what to do with it.

  “My family’s in the business,” she said with a smile.

  Jax gulped. “What kind of business? Mercenary army?”

  “Private security.” Then she winked.

  What was that supposed to mean? That he was right the first time?

  Jax ran into the house and upstairs, where he found Riley packing a duffle bag in his bedroom. “Are we under attack?” Jax asked breathlessly.

  Riley looked up. “Nothing like that. I have to take a trip. I’ll be gone through Thursday. Maybe Friday.”

  Straight through Grunsday. “Where? And why are you taking guns?”

  “Better you don’t know,” said Riley. “Less for you to worry about.”

  “But—” Just telling him that gave him plenty to worry about.

  “I don’t expect any trouble here, but Melinda is on security, and if you need help, call A.J.’s mom. I just need you to hold down the fort.”

  “What—”

  Riley zipped the duffle bag closed and tossed it at Jax. “Put that by the front door. I’ll be down in a second.”

  Jax carried the bag downstairs, frowning, and as he passed through the living room, he spied Riley’s cell phone on the coffee table. A second later, he’d dumped Riley’s luggage on the floor and was thumbing through phone menus. Riley had made calls to Mr. Crandall and Melinda that afternoon, but prior to that, he’d received a text from Miller—the vassal no one wanted to talk about. Hearing Riley’s footsteps overhead, Jax quickly scanned the messages.

  Miller: wylits vassals headed for taliesins.

  arrival certain by grunsday night.

  Riley: not good

  Miller: i can get there 1st

  Riley: dont blow yr cover. ill go

  Miller: u sure? could get ugly

  Miller: 1st kill is hardest

  Miller: dont think u can do it. ill go

  Riley: ill do what i have to

  By the time Riley came downstairs, the phone was on the table, the duffle bag by the door, and Jax was casually clicking through channels on the TV. “Probably nothing will happen,” Riley said. He put the phone in his pocket and slung the duffle bag over his shoulder. “But keep your phone on you. And the radio on Grunsday.”

  “Okay.”

  Riley left, and Jax darted to a window to watch the truck and the T-Bird pull away. He tried to think of a way he might have misinterpreted those texts, but he couldn’t.

  Riley was off to kill somebody.

  Melinda chatted with Jax that evening.

  Melinda: You ok?

  Jaxattax: yeah but where did they go?

  Melinda: To check out a security problem. Don’t worry

  Jaxattax: they took guns

  Melinda: Just a precaution

  Jax didn’t buy it. Melinda had told him herself that somebody had wiped out Riley’s family and nearly killed him as well. Jax swallowed hard. When did I start worrying about Riley?

  Melinda: You don’t have to stay there. Riley lived alone so many years he forgets it’s not normal for a boy your age. You can stay with Mrs. Crandall. Jaxattax: no im ok—supposed to hold down the fort Melinda: LOL. See you for your lesson on the 8th day. Call if you need me.

  Jax barely slept that night. He skipped school the next day because he regretted what he’d done to Giana’s brother and wondered if the brute would pound him into dust today. He also knew Billy would hound him with questions he couldn’t answer, and sure enough, texts started rolling in minutes after the school day ended.

  Billy: where r u? cmon jax. tell me whats going on. i can help.

  Jax didn’t answer any of them, and when the door-bell rang around eight o’clock that evening, he groaned. It had to be Billy, come to ask his questions in person. Jax ground his teeth together. His guardian was off on some James Bond mission, he had to meet Evangeline on the lawn at midnight, and he didn’t need one more thing to deal with!

  But when Jax opened the door, he found a strange man on the stoop. “Jax? I’m Mrs. Unger’s nephew.” The man stuck out his hand, and Jax shook it automatically. “I hear you run errands for her. Thanks for looking out for my aunt.”

  Jax shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “It is a big deal. Not many kids take the time to look after an old lady.” The fellow looked about fifty years old with a shock of white hair and a solid build. “I’m dropping off a rug for my aunt’s bedroom. She said maybe you’d help me carry it in.” He pointed his thumb at a conversion van parked outside Mrs. Unger’s house. The back passenger door was open, and rock music pounded from the stereo.

  When Jax hesitated, the man added, “My aunt said she’s got cash.”

  Jax groaned. “She doesn’t have to pay me.”

  The man grinned. “You know how she is.”

  “Yeah, I do.” Jax closed the front door and followed him to the van, where a rolled-up carpet lay wedged between the front- and second-row seats.

  Mrs. Unger’s nephew climbed into the vehicle, saying, “I’ll get in and push. You pull from the outside.”

  Jax glanced back at Mrs. Unger’s house, expecting to see her standing on the stoop waving her wallet, but the front door was closed, the curtains drawn, with no lights on in the front room. “Um, where is—?”

  “I think the plastic’s caught on the bottom of that seat,” the man shouted over the music. “Can you get it?”

  “Sure.” Jax leaned into the van and felt around.

  Pain shot through every nerve in his body.

  He screamed, his limbs failing him. He went down face first, his nose slamming into the floor of the van. Every part of his body was on fire, twitching and flopping. He couldn’t even lift his face to breathe.

&
nbsp; As suddenly as it started, it stopped. The echo of pain racked his body, but he lifted his head and gasped for air. The bass in the music vibrated the vehicle in time with his pain, as if the whole world throbbed. There was a weight on his back, and when Jax struggled, a hand shoved his head down.

  “Yeah, I know. Getting Tasered is no fun. Lie still if you don’t want it again.”

  His arms were pulled behind his back, and something cold closed around his wrists with a ratcheting sound. “Help!” he yelled.

  “Shut your mouth, Jaxattax,” the voice spoke in his ear. “Or I’ll Taser you again. Nobody can hear you anyway.”

  The weight disappeared from his back, but before Jax could react, the door of the van slammed shut. Feet stepped over his head. Then he felt the van shiver with the closing of the driver’s door, and the vehicle jerked into motion, rocking to the Killers’ latest song.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  22

  SO STUPID.

  Jax’s body convulsed in pain and fear. How could he have fallen for something every child had been warned against? He should have slammed the front door in the man’s face. He should have grabbed his dagger.

  His dagger.

  Melinda had told him to wear it whenever he wasn’t in school, and Riley had told him to keep his phone or his radio on him. But he hadn’t. The sheath was uncomfortable to wear when he was sitting around the house. He’d left it on the coffee table with the radio, and the phone was charging. He kept them all handy, but not on him.

  Jax moaned. He’d been asked to hold the fort, to watch over Evangeline, and within hours he’d gotten himself kidnapped.

  Evangeline. Would they come for her next?

  Jax heaved his body upright. His hands were cuffed behind his back. His nose throbbed, and his tongue stung as if he’d bitten it while convulsing.

  The man in the driver’s seat extended one arm in Jax’s direction, his hands clasping a black, blunt-nosed weapon. “You can sit up,” he called out, “but stay real still. If I have to pull this van over, you’re going to regret it.”

  “You’re Terrance from that stupid website,” Jax guessed.

  “I’m Lexi too.” The driver laughed. “As for stupid—stupid is giving me the same username and password you use for your email account. Didn’t they teach you any better at school?”

  Jax groaned. Of course, he’d been taught not to use the same username and password for everything. He’d ignored the advice. Everybody did.

  Terrance held the Taser in his right hand, but Jax was more interested in his left hand. When the van made a turn to the right, Terrance’s left hand arced upward, and Jax got a look at his wrist.

  He had no tattoo. He was a Normal.

  Jax hung his head and tried to think. Had he been snatched by a nut job who knew nothing about Grunsday? No, there was too much stuff on that website that matched what he’d been told. This guy knew something. What Jax wouldn’t have given for Riley’s voice of command right now! But of course, Jax had his own talent. He started muttering one of Melinda’s chants.

  Terrance swung the Taser toward him again, and the van lurched sideways. “No spells, Jax.”

  He knew what Jax was doing. That couldn’t be good. “I’m praying,” Jax snarled. “Praying you drive into a ditch because I’d rather die in a car accident than be chopped into pieces by a psycho killer!”

  “I’m not going to chop you into pieces,” Terrance shot back. “You’re my golden ticket, kid. Do what you’re told, and you won’t get hurt. But if you ask me a question—any question at all—I’ll Taser you till you pass out.”

  Jax sagged against the rolled-up carpet. Terrance knew his talent.

  “Cheer up, Jax. You didn’t like living there anyway, did you?” Terrance’s voice rose an octave. “Naomi, I don’t like it here. Riley is mean, and the only person who’s nice to me is Mrs. Unger.” He dropped into his normal register. “Only Naomi didn’t come, did she? She dropped you like a hot potato.”

  So Terrance had read his email and chats. Crap, even Riley’s address had been in an old email Jax sent to Naomi back when he first moved there. And this guy knew about magic, even if he didn’t have his own. But he was also giving Jax information, practically volunteering it. Was Jax’s talent working for him even when he didn’t ask a direct question? Melinda said he was stronger when he really needed to know.

  Jax prodded him, but made sure not to phrase it as a question. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know you were left alone this week.” Terrance smirked in the mirror. “Nobody’s going to miss you for days.”

  Melinda would miss him. She was expecting him for his lesson tomorrow, and when he didn’t show up, she’d contact Mrs. Crandall, and they’d . . . do what? A Normal wouldn’t have activated Melinda’s security net, and he already knew that she wouldn’t detect Jax’s leaving. She’d have no idea what happened.

  Sitting for hours with hands cuffed behind his back was a torture that started small and grew steadily unbearable. Jax squirmed, trying to ease the pressure on his arms. He also managed to survey the vehicle. Besides the rolled rug Terrance had used to lure him in, there was a large toolbox in the back of the van and what appeared to be garbage bags.

  The bags worried him. Bodies were disposed of in garbage bags.

  Jax watched the clock face on the outdated dashboard. When midnight came, Terrance would vanish. But Jax was worried about what would happen to the van. He remembered the car he’d seen frozen on the highway because it had been moving with velocity on Wednesday at midnight. Would that happen in this case? Would Jax be trapped inside the van, unable to get out? Or would Jax’s presence in the vehicle be enough to send it hurtling seventy miles per hour into Grunsday—minus the driver?

  At eleven thirty p.m., Terrance left the interstate and headed into a town over the border of Ohio. Rain pattered against the windshield, and Terrance flicked on the windshield wipers. He drove quickly, and as near as Jax could tell from the mirror, kept his eye on the clock. Finally, with less than ten minutes to spare, Terrance drove the vehicle into a strip shopping mall. He cut the engine and exited through the driver’s door. He walked around the van, opened the passenger door, and thrust the Taser into Jax’s face. “Get out. Slowly.”

  Slowly was the only way Jax could move. He had no arms to help him. He fell trying to step out of the vehicle, and the pavement smacked his knees. Then Terrance planted a hand on the back of Jax’s head and shoved. “Get your head down.”

  This was it. Terrance was going to kill him. Jax filled his lungs with breath to yell and plead . . . when suddenly his left hand fell forward. A second later, pain tore through the tortured muscles of his arm.

  “Get up,” Terrance ordered, jerking on his other arm. Those muscles screamed, too. And then Jax realized his right hand was cuffed to Terrance’s left one.

  “What the—”

  Terrance laughed. He held up their connected hands and shook the cuffs. His other hand still held the Taser. “It’s a piggy-back ride,” he explained. “In a couple minutes, either you’re going to drag me into the other world, or . . .” He grinned. “Or one of us is going to get a hand cut off.”

  Jax looked at the metal rings joining their hands. If he transitioned to Grunsday with everything on his body—and meanwhile, Terrance went to Thursday with everything on his body—they couldn’t both take the cuffs with them. It took Jax about one second to picture the possible result. Then he started screaming. He grabbed the handcuff and yanked on it, trying to wriggle his hand loose. Terrance let him do it. In fact, he threw back his head and laughed.

  At the instant Jax had planned to meet Evangeline, he transitioned into Grunsday handcuffed to a madman.

  When Terrance was tired of laughing, he grabbed Jax and shook him into silence. “That’s enough, kid.”

 
; Terrance led Jax away from the van to a shopping-cart return. He didn’t seem to care that the rain had turned to mist, hanging in the air. He didn’t look at the sports car frozen in transit on the street. Jax realized Terrance had been to Grunsday before and already knew the handcuff trick would work.

  He’d frightened Jax for fun.

  Terrance removed the key from his shirt pocket and unlocked his own cuff and closed it around a railing in the shopping cart return. “Wait here, kid.”

  When Terrance climbed into the van and drove across the parking lot, Jax thought it was over. Terrance was going to leave him now that he’d gotten what he wanted. Then Jax saw the reverse lights come on, and the van hurtled backward, tires squealing on the wet pavement—straight into the glass windows of one of the stores.

  “Holy crap!”

  Jax looked up at the building front. It wasn’t a store. It was a bank. Terrance was a freaking bank robber.

  Terrance drove the van out of the broken glass and off the sidewalk, then emerged from the driver’s seat whistling happily. He went around to the back of the vehicle and opened the rear door. Jax couldn’t see what he did next but assumed he was unloading the toolbox and the garbage bags.

  When Terrance vanished inside the bank, Jax turned his attention to the shopping-cart return. It was rusted and, with any luck, flimsily made. He grabbed the railing with both hands, braced his feet, and wailed on it. The handcuffs clanged against the steel, and the shopping carts rattled, and Jax never heard footsteps behind him until Terrance pressed the Taser into his back.

  Jax flinched. “Trying to leave me, kid?” Terrance asked pleasantly.

  “Let me go,” Jax begged. “You got what you wanted. Go rob your bank and let me go. It’s not like I can call the police.”

  “Our partnership’s not over yet. Take the key and unlock that other cuff. I don’t have to tell you not to run, do I?”

  He didn’t.

  Inside the bank, emergency lights dimly illuminated the main room, and glass crunched underfoot. “Do you know what I do for a living?” Terrance asked. “I build vault locks. Do you know what I think about while I build ’em? How to break into them.”