The Specter Key

by Kaleb Nation

  Thomas looked from Joris to Bran, his fingers white as they clutched his gun. Astara and Gary called to Bran, but the train was almost upon him, and he felt someone throw magic to lift him, but it wasn’t enough, for he stumbled again, hearing the gears from the train and feeling the wheels rumbling across the tracks.

  It was then that Thomas jerked into motion, throwing himself in Bran’s direction, falling to the side just as the train rumbled across where Bran had been just a moment before: leaving the Key and Elspeth behind. Bran could feel the heat from the metal wheels even as Thomas rolled and held Bran tightly against himself, squeezing them both in the narrow space between the train and the walls of the subway. Elspeth’s hand reached the Key, touching its edge, and she shouted in victory. But before she could lift it from the track, the train roared over it, and both Elspeth and the Key were both blocked from Bran’s view.

  The train did not pause, the cars rumbling by, deafening Bran, and he and his father held tightly to the concrete. Thomas lifted himself up and pulled Bran with him, rolling onto the thin side maintenance walkway as the train continued past them, and Bran bent over to catch his breath.

  Thomas did not let him stay there but pushed him ahead until they had crawled to the station. The platform was above their heads, and Thomas pushed Bran up, where Gary and Astara dashed to him. Bran was so shaken from what had happened that he couldn’t stand, but Gary helped him to his feet, and the train continued past in a blur of lights. Joris was nowhere to be found.

  “The Key—” Bran said, but Gary pushed all of them ahead until they found a stairway and were out of view of the passengers on the train. They climbed the stair as the sounds disappeared behind them, until they reached another room—an old maintenance warehouse.

  “The Key’s protection was gone. It was destroyed on the track,” Gary said, and it came as a giant relief to Bran—but he was even more relieved that Astara and Gary were still alive with him. He grabbed Astara then and held her tightly so that she could not leave again.

  “That was nearly our deaths!” Astara said, still shaken.

  “How many times have you nearly died already?” Bran said, unable to keep from laughing, because there really wasn’t any other way for him to react. The danger had passed, and Astara was safe.

  Gary stood, breathing the air deeply, and Bran saw that he wore an almost peaceful expression. He seemed free, and Bran realized just what had happened: Gary was out of his house.

  “You came after me,” Bran stammered. Gary nodded.

  “I’ve been watching you move on the map ever since you left,” he replied.

  “You have?” Bran said, looking down at the charm that was still on his jacket. “Why?”

  “I couldn’t bear the thought of what you were going to do,” Gary said, looking down. “I sent you off alone because I wasn’t strong enough to go with you. And so I watched, hoping to see some sign that you succeeded and were going home.”

  He shook his head. “But when I saw you disappear from the desert and suddenly reappear at the Subway Imperial stop—which I recognized from my days on the Project—I had a feeling there was trouble. And,” he paused to smiled, “by using Revdoor version 2.0, and the maintenance key I happened to have collected, I came to check on you.”

  “But you left your house,” Bran said. Here Gary’s eyes met with his.

  “That I did,” he said softly, as if realizing it himself for the first time. “But I did say when my heart had been healed, I could leave that place. I suppose it was true after all.”

  And that was all Gary needed to explain for Bran to understand. Bran felt his heart glow, for there he stood with his friend, alive and safe; and Gary, this man who was finally whole again; and Thomas—

  “Thomas saved me from—” But Bran’s voice ended there, for Thomas had vanished.

  “Where did he go?” Astara said quickly. And though Bran searched the room, his father was nowhere to be found.

  Chapter 35

  A Welcoming Party

  When Bran had first arrived in East Dinsmore, it had only been he and Oswald in the cab, with Nim hiding in Bran’s things. But as Bran left East Dinsmore, though Nim was no longer there, the back seat was full, for he and Astara were returning home together.

  In the cab, Bran did not speak of it, but he could not help but wonder where his father had gone without even the slightest good-bye. He didn’t know which hurt more: that, or the fact he had taken Nim with him. As he thought back, he couldn’t even be sure Nim had made it out of the caves with them, for he hadn’t seen her in the subway tunnel. He hoped Thomas had hid her in his pocket, but he could be sure of nothing. There were so many things that Bran wanted to say and to ask Thomas: to find out what had gone through the man’s head, and if he had planned all along to save Bran or had only switched sides because it would get him closer to killing Joris. When no one was watching, Bran had checked through his bags, hoping his father had left a note or something to let him know what had happened. But even though Bran checked three times, nothing surfaced, and he realized that his father had truly disappeared yet again.

  Gary had decided to accompany them back to his sister, and though he said it was for their safety, Bran assumed it was more that he did not wish to tell him good-bye. Bran sat in the middle, telling Astara all that had happened between her being taken and him finding her. She could hardly speak as she listened to all that he had done, and even when he had finished, she said little. He suspected that she was tired, as was he, but the smile on her face told him that she just could not find any words that would fully express her feelings.

  Oswald, who had probably never driven so many miles in a single day in all of his career, was quite sunny even as the daylight wore on and the hours of driving went deeper into the evening. Gary had telephoned him and asked that he specifically come to their whereabouts and pick them up for the drive, promising a sum the driver could not refuse. Oswald drove on for many hours, and about halfway through the trip he checked the mirror and saw that all three of his passengers had fallen asleep. He grinned, and his tentacles reached back over the seat to draw the single curtain over the window.

  They arrived at the gates of Dunce, and Bran awoke to find Astara leaning against his shoulder, fast asleep, and he was leaning against Gary. Bran looked out the windows and saw the lights of the giant checkpoint gate, with the guard towers and the booths of inspectors making sure no gnomes would pass through. The cab had come to a stop, and he could see one other familiar car on the side of the road ahead. It was Adi’s.

  Bran and Astara were still half asleep as Oswald gently helped them out of the cab. It wasn’t very late, but everything that had happened had left both of them exhausted, and Astara got into the back of Adi’s car without fully coming awake.

  Bran stopped, however, and left the door open, looking back toward Adi and Gary. He didn’t hear what they said, but Gary had tears in his eyes and embraced his sister warmly. Gary looked at Bran and then closed his eyes as brother and sister held each other for a few moments before parting. It seemed odd that they would say so little after being apart for so long, but by their faces, Bran saw there was little for them to say to each other that could possibly describe it all anyway.

  Adi walked back to Bran. She looked from him to Astara and then back to him, her own heart soaring with pride at what he had done when she had hardly believed it possible.

  “I think Gary wants to tell you good-bye, Bran,” she said. He turned and saw Gary waiting beside Oswald’s cab. He was looking toward the setting sun, and the golden light of it seemed to be strengthening him.

  Bran strode toward the man and just stood there beside him, looking into the distance. He didn’t want to say good-bye, because he didn’t know what was going to happen to Gary once they parted. Would Gary go back to his house and go on living his loathsome life in solitude? It pained Bran to even think of it,
the constant torment and heartbreak returning to this man who had been through so much.

  But as if to wipe these fears from Bran’s mind, a smile crossed Gary’s face. It was warm and happy, and he seemed truly at peace.

  “It has been so long since I have seen the sun set on any evening away from my home,” he said. He breathed in the crisp evening air. “It is truly spectacular.”

  “You’re going to be all right, Gary,” Bran said. “We’ve both been hurt by my mother. But we were both loved by her, too. And I think we were the ones she was thinking of, and wishing she could have been with longer, before she died.”

  Gary was quiet for a while.

  “I still wish that fate had given me the chance to be your father,” he finally said. He turned to Bran.

  “But then again,” Gary added, “I’d like to think of you as partly my son anyway—if not by blood or by name, then by the mere fact that I love you as my own, even in this short time we have known each other.”

  These words caused Bran’s heart to feel lighter and happier with an emotion he could not entirely pin down. It was the feeling that he had had when he was with Rosie, how she had made him feel loved. For it was more than a name that simply went to the man who shared Bran’s bloodline—it was something more, something that Gary almost seemed to hold, even in the short time they had known each other.

  “It has come to my attention that I must go away for a short time,” Gary said softly. “But I shall return to visit you and my sister. And if you ever need anything, you know where I am.”

  Gary gestured toward the gnome-hat key ring, which was still attached to Bran’s jacket. “And I will always know where you are—even if you end up in some dangerous subway tunnel again.”

  “And what if I take this key ring off?” Bran asked, smiling warmly.

  “I’ll still find a way to help you,” Gary said with a tone of mild amusement. Bran embraced him, and they bid farewell, departing each to their own car, and were quietly driven away.

  Adi said nothing as they passed through the city and started back in the direction of Bolton Road. As they got to Deeper Dunce, the lights of the buildings began to play across the inside of her car, and Astara sat up.

  “Sleep well?” Adi finally said. Astara nodded.

  “Good to be back?” Adi asked. Astara smiled at that, and so did Bran.

  “There’s a bit of a surprise back home for you, Bran,” Adi said, nodding ahead.

  “What’s there?” Bran asked.

  “You’ll see when we get there,” she said.

  After what seemed like ages, they finally turned onto the street, and Bran was greeted with the very last thing he had ever expected to see on Bolton Road. The street was blocked off about halfway down with wooden barriers, and cars were parked all along the sides with people bustling about. There were picnic tables spread on the lawns and streamers in the trees with strings of lights hanging all across. However, standing in the middle of the yard of the entirely repaired thirteenth house on the right side was the most shocking thing of all: a giant banner, hanging across two high poles, with words emblazoned across that read:

  The Third Bank of Dunce Presents:

  Welcome Home Bartley and Rosie

  From the Third Bank of Dunce

  “They’re here?” Bran gasped, about to jump out of the car before Adi had even stopped.

  “Not yet,” Adi chuckled. “They’ll be here this evening.”

  “And how did all this…” Bran started, but he couldn’t finish as he took in the crowds of people, some hanging balloons and others arranging cakes onto the long tables.

  “Well, after that horrible thing that went on during Fridd’s Day, the Third Bank of Dunce was almost ruined publicly,” Adi explained. “We had a giant meeting trying to find a way to redeem ourselves in the eyes of the public. So when I heard that Bartley and Rosie were coming back in town tonight, I suggested to the Board that we throw a giant party to make up for the wrecked one and say that through the goodness of our hearts,” she snorted, “we wish to bring the community together to celebrate these newlyweds.”

  “And that actually worked?” Bran said with shock. “Sewey’d never agree.”

  “Of course he didn’t,” Adi said. “But he didn’t have any choice after that, if he wanted to keep his job. The Board thought it was a brilliant idea, and it seems to have worked, because it’s been nothing but good publicity since.”

  A man and a woman darted out of the Wilomases’ house, carrying between them a long paper banner that they rushed to hang over the entry of the house next door. Bran noticed that the for rent sign was no longer in the yard, and a moment later, he saw why. The sign being stapled over the door read:

  Please do notice this gift

  to the newlyweds

  from the kind Third Bank of Dunce:

  three months free rent

  and reasonable due thereafter

  from the Third Bank of Dunce

  “They certainly don’t have any trouble advertising themselves,” Astara noted wryly.

  “They’ll be living next door?” Bran said, still unable to comprehend how all this was happening.

  “For a short time, subsidized by the TBD,” Adi nodded proudly. “All for the sake of good publicity.”

  She finally parked the car and let Bran and Astara out, and all the noise of the adults ordering one another around and the children playing came out as a giant babble of sound. Adi opened the trunk and got Bran’s bags out, and he was so dizzy with what he saw before him that he nearly dropped them as he got closer to the house.

  He got up to the front door and was nearly pushed aside by three women who bustled their way past him, and he dropped his bags beside the door. He could hear shouting from the kitchen, and even though the voice was Sewey’s, the familiarity made his heart soar.

  He pushed his way to the kitchen, dragging Astara with him, but the door burst open before he even got there. Sewey came out with a giant bowl of popcorn, spilling it all over the place as he tried to carry it over the heads of the people.

  “Sewey!” Bran called.

  “You!” Sewey replied. “You’re back. Good. Now,” he pointed, “you can start by getting Mrs. Havinsworth away from sampling at the cake table, and then putting paper plates outside.”

  “Hello. I’m home, good evening,” Bran said with annoyance. “Nice to see you again, Sewey, after all this time.”

  “Yes, yes,” Sewey waved his hand. “I know you’re home. Now get to work. And smile, or else this travesty of a party will be of no worth. Do it like this.”

  Sewey spread his lips apart and exposed all of his grayish teeth in what at first appeared to be an attempt to look like an angry ape but what Bran realized was his attempt at smiling.

  “The public relations firm the TBD hired has helped Mabel and me practice,” Sewey said, letting his face fall back into its usual position. “We’ve got to do it over and over and over again today. It’s to reassure the customers that we do, in fact, care about them and the community and idiotic things like weddings and Bartley.”

  Sewey shuddered at the name. “Great rot, he’s coming home. I might just eat maggots instead.”

  “Just keep doing that thing with your face and teeth,” Bran said. “It’ll make him want to leave the city again.”

  “Precisely,” Sewey replied, and it was then that his eyes turned to Astara, and suddenly his brow furrowed.

  “You?” he said, blinking. “Have I met you before?”

  Bran froze, realizing suddenly that Sewey had seen a glimpse of Astara at the Fridd’s Day party. However, much to his relief, there came a gigantic boom from outside that rattled the house and caused Sewey to leap into the air and forget whatever he had been thinking. Bran and Astara ducked.

  “Get Balder away from that firecracker cannon!�
�� Sewey roared. A woman jostled her way to Sewey.

  “Wilomas,” she said, “there’s a courier at the door. He’s got a package to deliver.”

  “Well, my hands are busy popcorning these seeds,” Sewey said angrily, and he waved Bran to go sign for it. The courier was dressed in purple and was waiting at the door with a look of fear. Obviously, he was not accustomed to watching children operate firecracker cannons in the yard so close to him and was very eager to be on his way.

  “Bran Hambric?” he said, when Bran reached the door.

  “That’s me,” he replied. “I can sign for Sewey.”

  “Actually, it’s for you,” the man said, tapping the address. “Sign here.”

  Bran took the paper to sign and glanced for a sender’s address, but there was none. The courier retreated as fast as he could, and Bran showed the package to Astara.

  “I don’t get packages often,” he said. “Who do you think it’s from?”

  “No idea,” Astara said. “A gift, maybe?”

  “Not sure,” Bran replied, shaking the box. Whatever was inside was bulky.

  “Let’s go open it on the roof,” Astara suggested. “We can see the party from there too.”

  The thought of being on the rooftop was very appealing to Bran, for all the hubbub in the house was not what he felt like being in after returning home from so much of it already. They stole out the front door and around the yard. The ladder was still there, as it had been for many a month. They climbed up until they reached the top, crossed to the chimney, and sat looking over the edge.

  Bran ripped the tape off and pulled the cardboard flaps apart. He set the box onto the roof between him and Astara, and she held it so it wouldn’t slide off as he dug around inside and pulled out a single white envelope from the top. Inside was a piece of lined notebook paper, which when unfolded turned out to be a handwritten letter. The handwriting was more of a quick scrawl, which read:

  She wasn’t happy away from you, and I think we both know who she belongs with. I’ve got a man to hunt down. But I shall do it without her, and I have removed the devices from her eyes. But never, ever, ever, ever, think no one is watching.