I nodded and tried again. I squeezed Grandmother’s hand and she squeezed me back and her love seemed to flow through every atom of my body. My cane spun. I opened another portal. The cane spun faster and faster. I pictured Dad’s face, Ray’s mother and father, Sebwe. My cane became a blur. I felt the power pulse within. I circled my hand through the air, making the vortex spin faster and drill deeper. This time it felt different. Stronger and more solid. “It’s working, Carol!” Grandmother said. “Focus on your father.”
I let his face float before me in my mind. I heard him call me in my memory, “Hey there, Angel Butt,” as he grinned. Grandmother’s eyes slammed shut. She reached toward the vortex, doing as my uncle had done, a magician conjuring something from thin air. She moved her hand left, then right, then back again. She was reaching and grabbing. She jerked her arm back. Something came spinning through the vortex. A black spot. Growing larger. I struggled to hold the vortex together. I couldn’t let it collapse now. The black dot turned into a human form. I prayed it was my father. Grandmother gave one last violent pull and out shot Dad onto the hospital floor. My cane dropped. The vortex collapsed. Grandmother crumpled to the floor. And I practically leaped on top of my father, embracing him and sobbing. Dad was so dazed and confused he hugged me back, muttering, “It’s OK. It’s OK,” though he surely had no idea who I was.
“Carol, dear, let him up,” Grandmother said quietly.
I reluctantly pulled away, wiping my tears. Dad stood unsteadily. He stretched like someone waking from a long nap. He groaned and looked around. “Where am I? Who are you people?” That was like a needle in my heart. I tried to ignore it, just grateful he stood before me.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Grandmother asked.
Dad was much skinnier in this world. He looked hardened, his eyes haunted. “My brother,” he answered. “We had a fight, not our first. And then he did something to me. He’s strong, very powerful, and I wound up in that terrible place. I saw the world going by. Was that real?”
“I was there, too,” I said. “You see different realities, different streams of time, but they’re real.”
“Who are you?”
The pin pricked my heart again. “I’m a friend.”
This seemed to satisfy him. “I saw terrible things my brother did. Bits and pieces.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Grandmother said. “We have to stop him and we need your help.”
Dad noticed Sebwe’s mother. “How you’re dressed.” He looked around the hospital room. “This is the past, isn’t it?”
“It’s 1851,” I answered. “When my Un . . .” I caught myself. “When your brother went back and changed things.”
He looked around again. “Incredible.”
“So we need to go now,” I said.
“Where?”
“The North Pole,” I answered. “To stop him from hurting Santa and the elves.”
“Santa?” he asked. “You mean he’s real?”
“Of course,” Grandmother said. “And so are elves. I happen to be one of them.”
Dad looked at her in disbelief. And when she shimmered from old to young, his eyes grew even wider. He seemed to be trying to convince himself that everything he was seeing and hearing wasn’t some sort of illusion or fever dream, maybe the delayed effects of being in the vortex. I held my breath. Dad studied each of us. Then finally, he smiled and said, “Well, OK then. Let’s go save Santa.”
I grinned at him and I couldn’t help myself. I gave him another big hug. He may not have known I was his daughter, his Angel Butt, but my dad, he hugged me right back.
CHAPTER 12
The Battle for the Future
“You’re not about to leave me alone in this awful place,” Sebwe’s mother said as we prepared to make portals and execute our plan.
Grandmother put a hand on her shoulder. “But you’ll be in danger, Ruth.”
“Been in danger all my life,” she answered. “I want to make sure nothing happens to my boy. I’m going.” She crossed her arms in defiance and I had to smile. Was there any force more powerful than a parent’s love for her child?
Our plan wasn’t complicated, but I wasn’t too happy about it either. Dad came up with it and his ruthlessness surprised me. “We have to destroy him once and for all. He’ll never stop. You don’t know him like I do.”
I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling him I knew him plenty well and that I also knew a version of my father who would never, ever consider destroying his own brother. But I simply nodded. It wasn’t as if I had any better ideas. No prison could hold my uncle. And Dad was right. He would never stop. If we didn’t finish him—if I didn’t finish him—he would finish us. Grandmother and I knew the consequences of not stopping him because they had already happened. Countless people would die or have their lives ruined in the world he created. Not to mention the terrible fate that awaited Santa. Uncle Christopher had to be destroyed, and there was a good chance I was the only one with enough power to do it. Whether Dad realized it or not, the burden fell on me.
We had to go to the North Pole to confront Uncle Christopher, and persuading Dad to use a portal took some doing. “Why not a quick jump?” he asked.
“A what?”
“A quick jump. Christopher’s better at it than I am. It’s like a leap through space and time over a huge distance.”
“Oh, a Pole Vault,” I said.
Dad looked confused, but Grandmother finally convinced him a portal was the more efficient way to travel. “We can see what we’re jumping into,” she said. Easy for her to say. Not being an elf, Dad would see nothing and would have to trust this odd collection of people he’d just met.
As we stood ready to go, my stomach felt as if someone were twisting it like a washcloth. I sweated like I’d been running, and it occurred to me that I hadn’t had a bath in two days. I hoped I didn’t stink. (Though in the smelly world of 1851, I would fit right in.)
“As soon as Mr. Glover and I are through, Carol, we’ll attack,” Grandmother said. “You, Ray, and Ruth follow immediately.”
“OK,” I said. Ray stepped up beside me and I made a portal. Grandmother and Dad stood in front of us with their backs turned. I love you dear, Grandmother said.
I love you, too. So much. “Good luck,” I said aloud.
Grandmother made a circle in the air, and when the portal appeared and the scene at the North Pole was revealed, she and I both screamed.
Dad ducked as if something might attack him. “What?”
We already knew what had happened to the elf kingdom, of course. We’d witnessed the destruction firsthand right after Uncle Christopher had changed things. I’d also seen flashes of it from the vortex. But to watch it happening live was a horror.
Uncle Christopher and Sebwe strode through the elf kingdom like vengeful gods, blasting everything in their path. My uncle appeared to be teaching Sebwe as they went, the boy concentrating on manipulating the web around him and creating North Pulse after North Pulse. He was a quick learner, with incredible Defender gifts, and each Pulse seemed to be more powerful than the last. Chunks of shattered ice rained down on fleeing elves. Ice sculptures exploded. Elves made portals and vanished to who knows where. Other elves lay in the snow, unconscious or otherwise. Santa shielded a wounded elf. The king and queen were ushering children and the elderly through a portal when Uncle Christopher attacked from behind. Sebwe tossed blasts left and right and his eyes burned with what could only be described as madness. What had my uncle done to him? What lies had he told him about these poor creatures? I was thankful Sebwe’s mother couldn’t see her son.
“What’s happening?” Dad repeated.
“Something terrible,” I said.
“We have to go now, Carol!” Grandmother said. She grabbed Dad’s hand and they leaped into the portal, landing about fifty feet away from Uncle Christopher and Sebwe. They sprinted toward the attackers. Grandmother shimmered into the younger version of he
rself. My uncle must have sensed a portal opening up because before Dad and Grandmother could blast him from behind, he turned. Dad flung his North Pulses, but Uncle Christopher held up his staff and deflected them. The surprise attack still staggered him, and Sebwe was knocked to the ground. The boy popped back up, his face twisted in fury.
“You need to stop, Chris,” Dad shouted and fired another blast.
I adjusted my portal, drawing closer to my uncle. I wanted to emerge right on top of him and attack before he had a chance to defend himself. “Never!” he shouted, drawing back his staff.
“Now!” I screamed and the three of us jumped, hand in hand, into the fray. The cold smacked me in the face. Screams of the injured assaulted my ears. I landed a few feet from Uncle Christopher. His eyes went wide and he stumbled backward. Ray and I blasted him with North Pulses. One after the other. A relentless barrage. He partially deflected them but was thrown through the air. His staff went flying, landing ten feet from him in the snow. We fired more Pulses. Uncle Christopher threw up his hands to block them. He tried to get to his feet, but we refused to let up.
Meanwhile, Sebwe’s mother grabbed her son. “Stop it, Sebwe!” she screamed. “Stop it right now.” Sebwe looked stunned. The fury and madness drained from his eyes. He tried to pull away but she held him tight. She put her hands on each of his cheeks and looked him in the face. “Please, baby. Stop.”
The two of them distracted me for a moment, but Dad yelled, “Finish him!” I closed in on Uncle Christopher, who crawled toward his staff. I blasted him again and he screamed, falling backward into the snow. Blood trickled from his nose. He rolled around in agony. His face had turned nearly as white as the snow in which he lay. Blood blazed crimson on his upper lip.
“Do it, Carol!” Dad yelled.
I pulled back my cane. I reached deep for the strings of time and space, shaping them into a tight ball of destruction. Of death. Ray did the same beside me. My heart thundered. Sweat felt cold against my skin. Uncle Christopher looked up. He smiled. Not a mocking smile. Not an evil one. Something almost . . . human. A tear streaked down his cheek and froze when it hit the snow. I hesitated, my cane poised above him.
“That’s my girl,” Uncle Christopher said. “End it.” His voice was soothing, as if he were rocking an infant to sleep.
Tears spilled down my own cheeks. Ray hesitated, too, as if waiting for my cue. I trembled violently, my cane shaking in my hand. I felt nauseated. Paralyzed. I looked away from my uncle.
“I can’t,” I whispered.
Uncle Christopher coughed. He wiped the blood from his lip. “Do it, Carol dear.”
“I can’t!” I screamed. “I loved you. I still love you.”
My uncle smiled again. And once more it started out as a kind smile, almost a proud one. “Of course you do,” he said. Then his face slowly transformed, into anger, into hatred. “And that, Carol dear, is why I will always win.” He launched himself skyward, hovering above us. We dove for cover. “Love is weakness!” he screamed. “Love is death!” And he let loose a huge North Pulse that I barely managed to block with my cane. Every bone in my body rattled. He blasted me again. And again. My cane deflected the blows. But each one hit harder than the next. One got through my defenses and struck Ray square in the chest. He screamed and gasped for breath.
Uncle Christopher laughed, floating above us. “Sebwe,” he called. I scrambled away when he turned, half dragging Ray with me. Dad and Grandmother ran to help and we turned to face Uncle Christopher.
Sebwe pulled away from his mother. “No, Sebwe, no!” she shouted, collapsing in the snow. Santa crouched beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. She watched her son join Uncle Christopher, her eyes wide with fear.
Dad charged at his brother but Uncle Christopher waved his hand and Dad flew to the side, landing face first in the snow. My uncle waved his hand again and we were immobile and helpless, just as we had been in the hospital. Such an idiot I was. I should have listened to Dad and finished Uncle Christopher when I had the chance. It was the logical thing to do, the necessary thing.
Uncle Christopher floated to the ground and Sebwe joined him. He glanced nervously between us, my uncle, and his mother. Ruth reached out to him but he turned away. Santa held her close. The elf kingdom was unnaturally quiet. The elves had either vanished or were strewn about, casualties of the attack. The kingdom lay in ruins and the air smelled of smoke. The great tree still stood, not yet splintered, but an outer branch burned. The sculptures, stairs, benches, and houses lay in piles of ice, like shards of broken glass.
Uncle Christopher put his hand on Sebwe’s shoulder and the boy flinched. He looked at his new protector with a mix of fear and awe. Sebwe’s mother pulled herself upright. She seemed to sway on her feet and Santa steadied her. “Let this be a lesson, Sebwe,” Uncle Christopher said. “Pathetic human emotions like love make you weak.” Ruth took a step toward them. She bent slightly at the waist but held her head high. “Your enemies will exploit that weakness,” my uncle continued. “My darling niece here is very powerful. Yet all those natural gifts will be wasted because of that one weakness. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Sebwe said.
His mother moved closer. She stood tall and straight now and Sebwe watched her warily. Uncle Christopher turned toward her as if he might stop her advance, but Santa cleared his throat to grab my uncle’s attention. Santa’s suit was torn. His hat was missing. A red welt had appeared on his cheek. He brushed himself off. Snow tinkled to the Earth like fairy dust. “That’s where you’re wrong, Christopher.”
My uncle rolled his eyes and threw back his head with a bark of laughter. “Let the lecture begin,” he said. He no longer paid any attention to Ruth. “Say your piece, old man. I’ll grant you that final courtesy.”
Santa smiled and looked at me. “What Carol did is greater than her, Christopher. Despite all you’ve done, despite everything she lost because of you, she still offered mercy. She still loves you. That is powerful.”
Uncle Christopher laughed again. “And what good will all that love and mercy do her when she’s dead and gone?”
Now it was Santa’s turn to laugh. “You think love dies with one person? Love is a power as great as the universe itself. It lives on and on and it will eventually triumph. Through me or Carol or someone who comes after.”
Uncle Christopher held out his hands, palms up. “Are you done? Is that all you’ve got?”
Santa grinned slyly. “Yes, my friend. That’s all I’ve got.”
Uncle Christopher smirked. “You’re no friend of mine, old man.” He turned to Sebwe. “It’s time. Let’s do this together and you shall rule at my side and live like a king.”
Sebwe hesitated, glancing at his mother. She was within a few yards of him now and stopped. “No, Sebwe,” she whispered. “Please don’t do it.” But he and Uncle Christopher extended their hands.
I braced for the end. I was crying. Ray, too. Even Grandmother sniffled. Ruth’s whole body shook. But it was the strangest thing. All Santa did was smile, as if he were doing nothing more than watching children play a silly game. Sebwe’s mother looked over at him, and when she saw that smile, her shaking stopped. She stood taller. Then she looked at me, and just like Santa, she smiled. A serene smile of such beauty that she seemed to glow, a shining star in the deepest night.
Uncle Christopher and Sebwe drew back their hands to deliver the final blows. I held my breath, perhaps my last. Dad shouted, “No, Christopher, please!”
“It’s too late, dear brother,” my uncle responded.
Sebwe’s mother took off. She was still smiling, almost joyful. Ruth sprinted through the snow, weaving through the wreckage of ice, slipping and sliding. She leapt, beauty taking flight, a shooting star. Our two attackers flung their arms forward. Sebwe’s eyes went wide at the sight of his charging mother. He jerked his arm short. Uncle Christopher was distracted, too, and his Pulse was errant, hitting us like a glancing blow.
&nb
sp; But Sebwe’s mother took the full force of her son’s North Pulse. She went flying. Twenty feet or more. Landing in the snow. Sebwe screamed, like nothing I’ve heard before. He ran crying to her. Uncle Christopher lost his concentration and we were suddenly unfrozen. We were free.
A vortex, Carol. Grandmother’s voice rattled in my brain. Make one. It was as if she’d drilled her idea into my thoughts. I knew exactly what I had to do. I concentrated on making the portal. Uncle Christopher’s attention was on Sebwe, who knelt beside his motionless mother. The vortex I made was strong, fueled by fear and desperation. But no, it was something more than that. I could feel it. Santa was right. It was fueled by love. Love for Grandmother and Dad and Ray and poor Sebwe and his mother and what she had just done for us. Energy poured from me and through my cane. The vortex expanded. Swirling. Whirling.
Sebwe cradled his mother. Blood trickled from her nose. She was breathing, but the gasps came sporadically. Her eyes flickered open. “Mama! Mama! Are you all right? Mama!” Sebwe’s cries broke my heart, but I couldn’t let that distract me. I concentrated on the vortex.
“Don’t be like him, baby,” she whispered. “Be good.”
“I’m sorry, Mama.” Sebwe sobbed. He caressed her face. He kissed her forehead.
“It’s OK, baby. Mama loves you.” She smiled at him with such love that my heart ached to see it. I let that love flow through me.
“I love you, too, Mama.” Her eyes closed. Her chest stopped its rise and fall. And she was gone. “Mama! Mama!” Sebwe screamed. He pulled her close. He shook her and kissed her. “Mama!”
“Foolish woman,” Uncle Christopher said, shaking his head. “Come, Sebwe. She chose her fate.”
A blast from the side knocked Uncle Christopher off of his feet. My father had circled while his brother was distracted.
Uncle Christopher pulled himself up. “You’re all fools. Enough of this!” He noticed what I was doing and directed a blast my way. Ray jumped in front of me and delivered his own to deflect it. He was thrown past me and lay unmoving where he hit the ground. “You’ll watch them all die before I destroy you, Carol,” Uncle Christopher growled. He attacked Dad next, blowing him skyward, so high I knew he would never survive the fall. And there was nothing I could do. I had to stay focused on the vortex. Dad plummeted to Earth. All that remained were me and Grandmother and Sebwe, still sobbing and holding his mother. Uncle Christopher took aim at Grandmother next, delivering a mighty blast. But she was too quick, diving through a portal and reappearing on the other side.
Christmas Carol & the Shimmering Elf Page 13
