The Yanti

by Christopher Pike

  Ali could see holes in his story. She had actually been up on the mountain, and in the elemental kingdom, two days before Steve and Cindy had been taken captive by Sheri Smith. But she saw no point in explaining the flaws in his time line. It was clear where he was heading with his long-winded explanation, and she was surprised she had not seen it earlier.

  Garten was going to blame her and Cindy for Steve’s disappearance. Then he was going to roll the mystery of Karl’s disappearance into one gigantic conspiracy on the part of Breakwater’s two little devils. Garten glanced at the two of them as he reached for the climax of his theory. He had an audience. Everyone in the room appeared to be listening closely.

  Except for Officer Jed Broach, who continued to stare off into space.

  “Now about last night,” Garten said. “Here I must turn to Officer Jed Broach for help. Officer Broach, at what time did Cindy appear at the Toule police station?”

  The deputy stirred at the question. “Pardon?” he mumbled.

  Garten moved closer to the man. “What time did Cindy Franken walk into your station last night and say that Steve Fender had been killed by Sheri Smith?”

  Officer Broach struggled to remember. “It was late. No, it wasn’t that late, but it was after dark.”

  Garten acted impatient. “Estimate the time.”

  “Nine o’clock?”

  Garten checked his notes. “Last night you said it was ten o’clock.”

  Broach appeared dazed. “It could have been ten.”

  “Okay. Somewhere between nine and ten o’clock Cindy walked into your station. Were you present when she was questioned about Steve’s murder?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did she say?”

  Broach hesitated. “That Ms. Smith had stabbed Steve to death with a knife.”

  “In her basement?”

  Officer Broach’s eyes wandered, confused. Ali could not help noticing how they came to rest on Sheri. Ali sensed invisible magnetic tendrils in the room, psychic snakes that reached out and enveloped Broach’s skull. The deputy stared at Sheri for several seconds, before answering in a firm voice. If Ali had had any doubts before that the man was under the woman’s control, they had just been erased.

  “Yes,” Broach said. “The girl said her friend had just been killed in Ms. Smith’s basement. Of course none of us believed her. Sheri Smith is a fine, upstanding woman. But we went out to the house nevertheless, checked it out.”

  “Did you find Steve’s body?” Garten asked.

  “No. We didn’t even find a basement.”

  Garten acted surprised. “Why is that?”

  “Because there wasn’t one.”

  The answer hung in the room. A cop was a strong witness. Even Judge Lincoln was giving Ali and Cindy a peculiar look. Garten continued, there was no stopping him now.

  “So what did you do with Cindy?”

  “When my partner, Officer Kwan, and I returned to the station, we told our captain we were pretty sure the girl was lying. He told Kwan to take her home.”

  “Did you know at that time that Steve Fender was in fact missing?”

  “Yes. We’d been notified by the Breakwater police that all three of the kids—Ali, Steve, and Cindy—were missing.”

  “Did you go back to the Smith residence that night?”

  “Yes.”

  “At what time?”

  “It was close to one o’clock.” Officer Broach pointed at Ali. “At that time I saw that young woman enter and exit the house.”

  “How long was she inside?”

  “An hour.”

  Ali was surprised. She had been in the house less than five minutes.

  “Did you see where she went after she left the house?”

  “She walked into the woods.”

  “Did you try to follow her?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  “I lost her.”

  “How did you lose her?”

  Officer Broach shrugged, once more glancing at Sheri. “It was dark, the woods were thick. It’s hard to trail anyone under those type of conditions.”

  Garten appeared satisfied. “So Ali Warner just happened to show up in the exact spot where her best friend, Cindy Franken, said her other friend, Steve Fender, had been murdered. Tell me, Officer Broach, did you see Sheri Smith during all that time?”

  “No.”

  “Did you speak with her?”

  “My partner did. He called her at her office. She said she was working late, and that she had no idea what kind of prank these kids were trying to pull.” Officer Broach added, “It was then she told us that Ali had been to her firm several days earlier, asking all kinds of questions.”

  “Officer Broach—at this time—do the Toule police have any idea where Steve Fender is?”

  “None whatsoever,” Broach replied.

  “Thank you for your testimony,” Garten replied, moving to the front of the room, trying to take up a commanding position. Ali tried to catch Cindy’s eye, wanting to send her a silent warning of what was about to happen. But Cindy looked too exhausted. She had no idea she was about to be accused of Steve’s murder. Up front, Garten spread his arms, as if symbolically trying to tie all the loose ends together.

  “To be frank,” he said, “I don’t know what happened last night, when Cindy reported that Steve had been killed. Nor do I know exactly what happened five weeks ago, when Karl disappeared. But I do know that Karl was with Ali, Cindy, and Steve when he vanished. And I think it is clear that Steve was with Ali and Cindy when he dropped out of sight. I don’t know where Steve is now, but I fear the worst, because, oddly enough, I believe Ali and Cindy when they say he is dead.” Garten paused, then raised his voice and almost shouted out the theory he had been heading for all morning. “Only I think they’re the ones who killed Steve! The same way they killed Karl!”

  The room shook with movement and murmurs. Everyone seemed to talk at once, to glare at Ali and Cindy. Judge Lincoln had to pound the table to restore order. The one person who looked perfectly calm was Sheri. With a faint smile on her painted red lips she stared at Ali and seemed to silently say: “You think you’re a queen? Why, you’re just a kid. A silly female mortal who will soon be locked away in a dull human prison, while I take over this world, and the next.”

  It was then Ali began to feel more annoyed than scared. She was not sure how much longer she would let the charade go on. It bored her, and even Sheri’s powerful cloak—it had started to look so fake. By not allowing even a slight flaw on her face, Ali thought the woman was revealing how desperate she truly was to be seen as beautiful.

  Again, Ali thought of what Hector Wells had told her about Lucy Pillar.

  Beneath her shirt, once more, the Yanti began to warm.

  Judge Lincoln was studying Ali, not Cindy. Perhaps he believed a portion of Garten’s theory, she thought, that she was the evil mastermind behind some complicated plot to kill her friends. However, Ali could see he was far from convinced. When he spoke to Garten, the note of impatience in his voice was huge. Clearly, Garten’s fantastic plot leaps bothered him.

  “You may sit down now, Officer Garten,” he said.

  Garten shuffled uneasily. “Your Honor, I have yet to present all the details that support my theory.”

  “You have said enough for now,” Judge Lincoln replied. “Sit.”

  Reluctantly, Garten obliged. At the same time, Judge Lincoln narrowed his gaze on her. “Ali, do you have any idea what this man is talking about?” he asked.

  Ali shook her head. “This last month, he’s been constantly coming by to see Cindy, Steve, and me—asking us questions about Karl. We tell him we don’t know, but it doesn’t matter what we say. To him, we’re murderers. It’s that simple.”

  “Then where is my son?” Mr. Tanner blurted out.

  “What did you do to our boy?” Mrs. Tanner cried.

  Judge Lincoln held up his hand. “Please, I know emotions are running
high right now, but I must be allowed to ask the questions.” He returned to Ali. “What about your friend, Steve? Where is he now?”

  Ali glanced at Steve’s parents before answering the question. “I wasn’t there when he died, but I believe Cindy. That woman sitting there—that rich and powerful woman all these important people want to keep happy—killed him.”

  “Do you have any idea why she would do such a thing?”

  Ali caught his eye. “Ask her yourself. But look at her real closely when you do. She’s not what she appears to be.”

  Judge Lincoln was curious. “Why do you say that?”

  Ali allowed power to enter her voice. Her ensuing words became a command. “Study her, deeply, you’ll see what I mean.”

  Judge Lincoln turned his dark eyes on Sheri, a long and lingering gaze, and it was obvious the woman did not want that. Because it was clear to Ali that the judge had his own measure of power, and maybe, just maybe, if he stared deep enough at the evil being, he would see something that would shock him to the core.

  However, that, Sheri would not allow.

  Even as Judge Lincoln blinked, rubbed his eyes, and drew in a shuddering breath that suggested he was seeing beyond the woman’s illusion, the light in the room changed. First it darkened, then took on a faint red tint. Outside, through the window, Ali had the impression the sun had moved near the horizon, like just before nightfall. However, this red color belonged to no sunset she had ever seen before. Besides, it was early morning.

  The red, as it darkened, began to turn purple.

  Then Ali understood. This was the same purple light that had shone from the monitors she had seen in Sheri’s mansion. The light was not coming from outside—it was coalescing in the center of the room, casting a haunted sheen over the entire scene.

  As the light gathered and grew, it formed no central sun, but rather, a transparent circular shell composed of many writhing strands. The worst thing was, the strands felt as if they were in some way alive, that they were being fed by the blood of each person in the room. The red and purple glow was vampiric—it needed living beings to feed from, to exist, to exert its power. Ali could literally feel the life being sucked from everyone at the table.

  But what was its purpose?

  Ali glanced anxiously around the room. For long seconds it seemed as if no one else saw the light. Judge Lincoln continued to study Sheri. Yet Ali saw beads of sweat form on his brow, and yet, he was shivering. Then, all around the table, mouths began to yawn, eyes began to close, and heads fell. Judge Lincoln was the last to be struck down. His heavy head, as it hit the table, made a painful thumping noise. Ali doubted he’d even had a chance to close his eyes before unconsciousness came. The eerie glow had drained off his waking mind.

  Beside her, on her left, Mr. Havor lay with his head down, snoring softly. On her right, buried beneath a pile of blond curls, Cindy also slept, soundlessly. They all slept . . .

  Except for one person. No, make that two; two fairies. Two princesses, although only one of them could rightly be called a queen. Ali thought it important then to recall that her father had not trusted Doren, her older sister, enough to give her the Yanti, and crown her high ruler of the elemental kingdom. It was odd how the memory had come back to her only after she had met Hector. For reasons Ali did not yet understand, the contractor from Toule had inspired many memories from her previous life as Geea.

  Across the long table, Sheri stared at her and smiled.

  “Do you want to talk?” she asked. “Or do you want to die?”

  The heat of the Yanti was strong beneath her blouse. Ali sensed that Sheri felt it, and did not like it. The fact gave Ali courage. She merely shrugged at the questions, said, “You decide.”

  Sheri remained seated, appeared relaxed, but her smile faded as she gestured to the unconscious people around them. “Do you know why I arranged this circus?” she asked.

  “To waste my time and energy,” Ali said.

  “If that were the only reason, then my time and energy would also be wasted.”

  Ali touched her warm chest, watched as her fairy sister followed her hand. The Yanti, she wanted the Yanti, Ali realized, but she could not take it, not by force. “What do you want, Doren?” Ali asked, for the first time using her sister’s fairy name.

  “So you remember me. I was not sure you would.” She added, “Birth in these clumsy bodies is so often traumatic.”

  “Was it for Lucy Pillar?” Ali asked.

  Sheri went to snap, thought better of it, spoke casually. “I’m sure your visit to the green world brought back many memories, as well as old abilities. I’ve been told you managed to evacuate the remainder of the high fairies from Uleestar, and that you even dispensed with Radrine.” Sheri nodded to herself. “I thought you’d kill her, she had no manners.”

  “Yet she served you.”

  Sheri’s turn to shrug. “Radrine went where the power was. She saw that the war with humanity was inevitable. She just wanted to be on the winning side.”

  Ali leaned forward. “There can be no winning side. Human beings and elementals are one and the same. That is the sacred truth, known only to the high fairies. Even the elves—even Lord Vak himself—doesn’t know that for sure. But you do—I remember your beliefs because we shared them. You act like you’ve become blind. You know you cannot destroy one without destroying the other.”

  “So you think there’s no possible value in this war?”

  “What could possibly be gained by wiping out both worlds?”

  Sheri stared at Ali with her intense green eyes. Almost, Ali saw her as she had existed in the elemental world, where her sister had been the most fair of all the fairies—her beauty and proud bearing even greater than that of Queen Geea.

  Yet, Ali knew, that had been the problem. Doren had been too proud of her power and her beauty. Their father had also known, and not approved. He had given the Yanti to her, Geea, to rule the land, and Doren had been bitter. She had raved against him, in private and publicly. She should be queen, she told everyone. She was of the blue light, the oldest, the most powerful. It was her destiny to rule, she swore.

  Doren had raved against him up until he had made his discoveries on the Isle of Greesh. Then, perhaps to assuage his daughter’s anger, he had invited Doren to explore what had been found; she had gone, eagerly, and left Geea behind. Ali recalled she had been too busy ruling her kingdom to go excavating. She had been spending precious time with her mother and . . .

  No, that last part of her memory was distorted.

  Her mother had already gone. Gone off to the yellow world.

  To be born as a human being. Ali could not remember why.

  Ali silently cursed her memory gaps. It was ironic that the one person who could fill them in sat only ten feet away. Unfortunately, this same person grinned as she spoke of destroying worlds. Doren must be as Trae—her high advisor—had described. Atop the highest kloudar, before she had healed him of life-threatening wounds, she had asked Trae the most crucial question of all . . .

  Why does the Shaktra want this war?

  Trae had sighed and closed his eyes. “It must be insane.”

  Now, Sheri appeared to read her mind. “I have my reasons,” she said.

  Ali placed her palm on the Yanti, near her heart, and allowed the heat to spread up her arm. “Explain them to me. Here and now. I’ll listen.”

  Sheri was amused. “To do that I would need to know, for certain, that you would agree to accept my proposition. A proposition that might spare your life, and probably the lives of a few billion humans. Interested?”

  Ali hardened her tone. “Maybe. But I can’t accept any proposition without first knowing why you’ve changed into such a bloody beast.” She added, “Sister.”

  Sheri lost her smile. “Watch your tongue, Geea. You don’t want to anger me.” She gestured to Cindy. “One thought and I can stop her heart.”

  “One thought and I can restart it,” Ali replied, although sh
e suspected it would be a mistake to go head-to-head against her sister—particularly after seeing the abilities she possessed. It was then Ali saw that the second hand on the clock had halted. Sheri had not merely put everyone to sleep—she had frozen time. And no being in the elemental world that she knew of—be they fairy, dwarf, elf, or dragon—had such skills. Whatever Doren had found on the Isle of Greesh had not just made her cruel, it had bestowed upon her unimaginable power.

  Yet Sheri wanted to negotiate. She still needed her help. Why?

  Sheri changed her approach, spoke in a reasonable voice. “You probably know by now that the elemental army—led by Lord Vak—has already surrendered to my counterpart’s army. As we speak, he’s moving his forces toward Mt. Tutor.” She paused. “I assume Radrine told you this? Before you killed her?”

  “Yes.” In reality, Radrine had told her Lord Vak was close to surrender, but Ali sensed truth in her sister’s words. For now, the war in the green world was finished, and the good guys had lost. Sheri continued.

  “Vak leads his army toward Tutor as a prelude to invading the Earth. That invasion can be neat and clean—relatively speaking—or it can be very messy. It all depends on what the two of us decide—right now.”

  Ali shook her head. “Humanity will fight any type of invasion—to the bitter end. They’ll use every weapon they have to drive off the elementals. It’s human nature—you should know that by now, having lived as one for so long.”

  Sheri nodded. “True, Geea. But if you give me the Yanti, and unlock its power, the battle need not go on for weeks, or months, and ruin most of the Earth. In particular, nuclear weapons need not be used. The atmosphere doesn’t have to be poisoned with radiation. With the Yanti, I’ll be able to stop any missiles before they reach their targets.”

  Ali snorted. “What you want is what Lord Vak demanded at the start. That I help the elementals take over the Earth.”