“Spread out!” the woman shrieked. “There’s another one here!”
Plunging his hand into his satchel, Gordy pulled out the bracelet Bolter had made him and slipped it over his wrist. All four chambers had been previously loaded with Ghost Glass vials, making the bracelet look like a gaudy piece of costume jewelry, complete with colorful rhinestones. Wiping rain and sweat from his eyes, he heard footsteps racing toward his tree.
The vial nocked in the first chamber was bright blue.
As the Scourge closed in, Gordy leaped from his hiding place, shattering the glass with his thumb. A wire-thin beam of Torpor Tonic shot out like a laser, striking the mud-covered Scourge right between the eyes. Liquid splashed. The man’s head snapped back. He didn’t even have time to shout before dropping to the ground with a thud.
“Holy cow!” Gordy whispered breathlessly. “That was awesome!” Terrifying, but awesome. Hands shaking, he twisted the bracelet counterclockwise, loading the next vial into position.
Two more Scourges, both men with long hair and beards, charged up the hill. They hurled bottles that smashed on either side of Gordy’s feet.
The one to his left ignited into a pillar of fire that singed Gordy’s eyebrows as he turned away, shielding his face and coughing from the billowing smoke.
He whirled back around, aiming his wrist, but then stumbled in surprise as a three-foot-long centipede funneled out from a pool of black liquid splattered on his right.
The insect continued to grow by the second. Its bulbous, yellow eyes scanned the area, and dagger-like claws stabbed at the ground, kicking up dirt and leaves as it found its footing. When it stopped growing, it was the size of a twelve-foot python.
Massive insects weren’t uncommon in the potion-making community. Gordy had used Essence of Ampliar before on mealworms and maggots down in the family lab, but none of those insects had ever grown as large as this centipede.
A chittering noise, like the sound of a rotary lawn sprinkler, rose from the insect’s throat. The centipede lunged, snapping with its pincer-like jaws. Dodging beneath its strike, Gordy fired the next potion from his bracelet, a Vintreet Trap, which zapped a branch a few feet above the creature’s head. Vines appeared, squirming and snatching, but the centipede easily plucked them out of the air, gobbling them up with its mandibles.
“Get on with it!” one of the Scourges shouted, prodding the creature from behind with a large, flaming stick.
Gordy didn’t have time to check which potion was loaded next in the chamber. As he looked up to take aim, the centipede reared back, towering at least eight feet above his head. He shrieked, jabbing the vial with his thumb, and orange liquid blurred through the air. The spray, however, arced to the right, completely missing its target. Gordy felt a whimper rising in his throat, but then the potion doused one of the Scourges in the chest.
The man expelled a grunt before transforming into a mini tornado, instantly pulling the other Scourge into the funnel as well. Both men blurred together, their arms and legs whipping around like the Tasmanian Devil from the cartoons Gordy’s dad liked to watch on Saturday mornings.
The funnel reached the centipede, drawing in several of its rear segments. Stabbing at the ground with its claws and trying to free itself, the creature chittered and squealed.
Gordy clung to a tree trunk, fighting against the pull of the raging wind as the tornado whipped both Scourges down the hill. Though the centipede fought violently, the funnel firmly caught the bug, and it careened into the burning trees and brush, drowning out all other sounds of the storm above.
When the tornado finally stopped, one of the Scourges lay on the roof of Tobias’s farmhouse while the other had been propelled straight through the front door of the house. Neither man was moving much. Gordy had no idea where the centipede had ended up, but judging by the puddles of green-and-black sludge everywhere, he doubted it had survived.
“Did you cause all this rigmarole?” Tobias shouted from the roof as he stood over the man Gordy had zapped with the Funnel Formula.
“Technically, not all of it,” Gordy replied. Stepping out from behind the tree, he traipsed down toward the house.
Two of the Scourges who had tried to surround Tobias were out on the lawn near the front hedges, buried up to their chests in the ground. A pair of glowing watering cans hovered above their heads, dousing them with a constant deluge of water.
“How did you make those?” Gordy asked once he’d slid down to the bottom of the hill and reached the clearing around Tobias’s home.
Tobias stood up and dusted off his knees. “Those are my Potable Penyirams. I can fashion them to look like just about anything I want. Say, you didn’t happen to see where that—”
A bottle smashed against Tobias’s chest, cutting him off midsentence.
“No!” Gordy shouted.
Before the shards of glass had dropped to the rooftop, the potion had tangled Tobias in a cocoon of thick spiderwebs. Gordy hadn’t seen where the vial had been thrown from, but then the mud-covered woman emerged from her hiding place, stepping out of the front door of the house, her lone companion following behind. Neither one of them said a word as they both suddenly took off in a run, charging straight toward Gordy.
Twigs tore at Gordy’s clothing as he sprinted through the forest. Trees and thorn-riddled bushes hedged up the way. Lungs aching as he held his breath and peered into the darkness, Gordy stopped to listen for the sound of crunching branches. Aside from the low hum of insects, he heard nothing out of the ordinary. But then a mess of tangled hair emerged from behind a tree less than fifty yards away, and Gordy felt his hopes shatter.
The grinning, wild-eyed woman never spoke but tossed a bottle a few feet from where she stood. There was a sudden whoosh, like the sound of air being sucked into a tube, and the ground at Gordy’s feet split open. One moment he was standing on solid earth, the next he was clambering for low-hanging tree branches, his feet cracking the dirt as though he were standing on eggshells.
“Careful now!” the woman called out in a singsong tone. “Mind your footing.”
There was nothing to stand on, and Gordy began to sink. Clinging to a thick root, he managed to stop his fall, but it wouldn’t last. The weight of his body and the tug of his satchel draped over his shoulder, bogged down by dozens of potions, was too heavy for his fingers to hold.
“All right, Dergus, he’s had his fun,” the woman said, turning to the Scourge standing behind her. “Get him out before he suffocates.”
Gordy felt like an insect sinking in the sands of an hourglass as Dergus trudged along the edge of the mini cavern the Terramoto Tonic had opened, heading toward him.
The root suddenly slipped from Gordy’s fingers, and he began to sink once more. He would be buried ten feet beneath the ground by the time the Scourge reached the hole! Lashing out, Gordy seized hold of something with one free hand. Something cold and firm and made of metal. He didn’t take time to question it but hurriedly wriggled his fingers around the smooth tube.
“Hey, Joette,” Dergus called, skittering to a halt. “You ain’t gonna believe this, but look what’s sitting out here in the middle of the woods.”
Blinking the dirt out of his eyes, Gordy swung his other arm out of the hole, hefting his satchel along with it as he clasped the piece of metal.
Dergus chuckled. “It’s one of those . . . you know?” He snapped his fingers. “Minibikes or something.”
“A what?” Joette demanded.
“Like a motorcycle, only wimpier and not as noisy.” Dergus sniffed. “A moped. That’s it! Seems to be in fine condition, too, like it’s just been washed and waxed. What kind of moron goes and parks it out here?”
Gordy swiveled his head to get a good look at what the man was fussing about and realized he was holding on to the polished muffler of a motorized scooter. Moonlight illuminated the orange pain
t of its steering column, and Gordy could see a key inserted in the ignition as well as a rabbit’s-foot keychain fluttering in the breeze.
“I’m heading back,” Joette announced. “See to the boy. Make sure he’s bound tightly.”
“Reckon this moped’s mine now,” Dergus muttered under his breath as Joette trudged away. “It’s my lucky day. Yours?” He grinned down at Gordy. “Not so much.”
“What do you want?” Gordy asked.
“What do you want?” the man mocked. “Took us a whole month to find you. Joette’s Cepha Slop can be tracked, but we had to wait until they were done dredging the lake. By now, that ol’ octopus is fat and happy down at the bottom. Imagine the looks on their faces when someone decides to take a swim there for a holiday!” He burst out laughing. “Now, hold still and don’t thrash about.” In an instant, Dergus turned serious and jabbed a sharp fingernail into Gordy’s back. “And if you so much as make a move toward that bag of yours, even a twitch, I’ll wop you right on your stupid noggin.”
A sudden vibration traveled through Gordy’s hands, the cool metal under his fingers beginning to warm.
“What did I say?” Dergus smacked Gordy’s shoulder.
“I didn’t do anything!” Gordy said.
“Yes, you did. You—”
The odd vibration transformed into a low rumble as the scooter’s engine sparked into life. Exhaust belched out from the muffler right into Gordy’s face. He coughed, blinking away the smoke. He tried releasing his grip but realized his fingers were stuck to the metal!
“How are you doing that?” Dergus stood up.
“I’m not doing anything.” He wasn’t, was he? And why couldn’t he let go? Something weird was happening, and Gordy wasn’t sure he wanted to be anywhere near the scooter once it figured out whatever it wanted to do.
Dergus stepped on Gordy’s wrists and tried to kick him free from the muffler. The scooter’s engine roared louder and louder, dark-gray exhaust billowing out in another suffocating cloud. Using a nearby tree for leverage, Dergus tried standing on both of Gordy’s forearms as though they were a balance beam and he a poorly dressed gymnast.
Gordy squirmed, trying to knock him off before his arms were broken.
Dergus grunted but never got the chance to speak as the scooter suddenly shot forward, flipping him backward.
And then Gordy could no longer see Dergus anymore, or the enormous crack in the earth made by the Terramoto Tonic, or the trees, or anything at all for that matter. His eyes had forced themselves shut as the scooter exploded through the forest with Gordy clinging helplessly to its muffler, unable to let go and screaming at the top of his lungs.
The possessed scooter traversed several miles of dense forest before finally stopping by the side of the road. Gordy had tried pleading with it to slow down, but every time he opened his mouth, he ate grass and dirt and at least half a dozen small rocks. Gordy could feel the grime coating his teeth and taste the bugs he’d inadvertently swallowed. The key in the ignition magically turned over again, and with one final burst of exhaust from the tailpipe, the engine sputtered out. The magnetic hold on Gordy’s fingers released, and he dropped to the ground with a thud.
Gordy tried not to move too much. His jeans had been ripped at the knees, and both legs were scraped and bleeding. His abdomen was bruised, and his hands and wrists throbbed. All the twisting and slogging through the woods and being dragged behind the scooter like a wakeboarder with his hands glued to the rope had done a serious number on his body.
“That was ridiculous!” He moaned and sat up.
Nothing seemed broken or dislocated, though a couple ribs felt tender to the touch. Remembering he had brought along a container of Boiler’s Balm, a healing cream that could alleviate almost any pain, Gordy carefully opened one of the pockets of his satchel.
“Thank goodness for Sasha!” Gordy never thought he would say that, but because of the high-quality bag she had given him as a present at a potion-making party, not one of the vials had shattered.
Gordy walked to the edge of the road and slathered a generous portion of Boiler’s Balm onto his hands, wrists, and legs. After that, he emptied the remaining contents of the jar onto his chest and stomach, massaging handfuls of the opaque goop into his skin.
All things considered, it had been a miracle he had managed to survive the journey. He had escaped the clutches of multiple Scourges and a giant centipede and now found himself right on the main strip of highway that could take him anywhere he needed to go.
Gordy debated heading back to the Swigs. He still knew the way to the broken-down bus, though he doubted Spider would let him in. Not without his Scheel disguise.
Or he could try to contact his mom. If only he had his phone.
Gordy faced the scooter. “How did you do that?” He wondered if it had been started remotely, which would explain how it had turned on, but not how it had navigated the forest. Come to think of it, they hadn’t crashed into any trees—just the dirt and rocks kicked out by the back tires and straight into Gordy’s mouth. Could a remote-operated scooter do that? Then there was the issue with him being unable to let go of the muffler.
The scooter made a sudden rumbling sound, snapping Gordy from his pondering. The headlamp turned on, a beam of golden light blinding his eyes, and it inched forward, the rumbling increasing in volume.
“Now, hold on a second.” Gordy stepped back, not wanting to repeat his last adventure through the woods.
Was someone trying to help him, or was it an enemy toying with him? Had he escaped one group of psychopaths only to land in the clutches of another? And why did this situation feel oddly familiar? He had never owned a scooter before, and yet this particular vehicle, with its strange behavior and orange paint and silver stripes, triggered a memory. That rumbling in the engine seemed familiar. It sounded like purring.
“Estelle?” Gordy asked, gawking in disbelief.
In response, the headlamp blinked, like an enormous eyeball the size of a grapefruit. The light brightened, and the scooter leaped forward, pressing against Gordy’s leg, warmth radiating from the metal.
Gordy ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re Estelle? But how?” Then he remembered Bolter mentioning a special gift he’d intended on leaving behind. This was that gift. “This is crazy!” Even more so than when Bolter had infused his car with the essence of Estelle, his cat. This scooter was operating on its own accord, as though it could make its own choices.
Gordy straightened. “Can you drive me somewhere?”
He had taken several rides in Estelle when she had been an old, refurbished Buick. At first she had acted aggressivly toward Gordy, as though she would sooner have run him over than allow him to ride as a passenger. Eventually though, she had grown less hostile.
“I’m going to climb on you now, okay?” Gordy cautiously lifted a leg over the seat and gently gripped the handlebars. When the scooter remained calm, he fitted his satchel into the metal basket at the rear and latched it in place. Estelle’s motor hummed as she crept forward until her front wheel moved off the shoulder and onto the asphalted highway.
It was decision time. Should Gordy travel back to the Swigs? Head for the gas station and a phone? With Estelle cruising down the highway, he could be at either location in less than twenty minutes.
There was, however, a third option. One he had just thought of and felt certain could land him in a heap of trouble, possibly with B.R.E.W., and definitely with his mom once she found out. But at the moment, Gordy needed to get away from danger and go somewhere he could lie low and sort things out.
“All right, Estelle,” Gordy whispered, gripping the handlebars tightly. “Let’s head for Max’s.”
The five ingredients needed for the Moholi Mixture lay out on the concrete porch behind Adilene’s house. Her mom was still out at book group and her dad was snoring on the
couch. If her parents found out Adilene had snuck out of her room, she would be in so much trouble, but she couldn’t help herself. This was her chance to brew, and her mom and dad weren’t ready to understand this just yet.
Igniting the kerosene for her portable camping stove, she turned on her flashlight and unfolded the recipe. Sasha had neatly printed the instructions, along with her commentary in parentheses. Despite the condescending tone in the notes, Adilene found Sasha’s observations rather helpful, and, fortunately for her, Sasha had written everything in a slightly larger font. Adilene could read them without having to strain too much.
Moholi Mixture
Step 1—Fill container with twelve ounces of melted ice and turn up heat. (It has to be melted ice, not just water from the tap. Unless you want Moholi Mixture in your hair for weeks.)
Step 2—Dice one stalk of bronze fennel into evenly shaped triangles. Add to the mixture.
Step 3—Sprinkle in powdered shells of three flower chafer beetles, making sure to completely coat the surface of the liquid in a thin layer. (The gold baggie.)
Step 4—With a copper spoon, rhythmically scrape the side of the cauldron as you stir counterclockwise until liquid becomes the consistency of molasses. (Think of some dumb tune you like to sing to yourself when you daydream about Gordy and keep that pace. It doesn’t matter the song as long as the rhythm is consistent during the mixing process.)
Adilene stopped reading and growled. Oh, that girl! If this potion actually worked, she was tempted to pour it into Sasha’s school locker.
Step 5—Drop one wadded piece of aluminum foil into the center of the cauldron.
Step 6—Add four petals from the proteas flower, dropping them from above your head to allow petals to flutter into the cauldron. (Second baggie—read the label. And if you miss the bowl on the first try, you can pick them up and do it again.)
Step 7—Light the Amber Wick and blow out after six seconds. Then silently count to one hundred and fifty before turning off the heat to the cauldron. (Use a stopwatch for the Amber Wick, but you can count at whatever pace you want for the next part. Has to be silent, though. Don’t botch this at the very end.)
The Seeking Serum Page 10
