GHOST CROWN: THE TRACKS TRILOGY - Book Two

by J. Gabriel Gates

  She put her hand in his and closed her eyes again, and suddenly they were soaring through an endless, sparkling, silver tube filled with a brilliant luminescence. When they stopped they were standing in the very spot Orias had described to her, with the sparse lights of Middleburg twinkling in the distance below them as a few gentle snowflakes started to fall.

  Orias was looking at her with wonder. “I never imagined you would be like this,” he said quietly. “So beautiful. So vibrant. I knew you would be powerful, but I never imagined . . . I never thought I would find someone like you. Someone who could rule beside me. Someone who could be my equal.”

  And, at last, he kissed her, and she thought her soul would drown in the bliss. When he opened his eyes and looked at her again, she was stunned at the deep emotion she saw there.

  “One more slip, and it’s done,” he said. “But this time, you must travel alone.”

  

  Zhai and Kate sat next to one another on the floor of the old factory, chained to a piece of machinery near the only source of heat in the place—a huge old furnace that, Zhai assumed, was once used as a part of the manufacturing process. At first, they had been left in a distant, frigid corner, but Kate had complained and, after some discussion, the Snakes had decided to move them closer to the heat.

  “We don’t want our slaves getting pneumonia,” the shorter one had said to Zhai as he led them across the floor and re-chained them to a piece of heavy machinery near the furnace. “Especially this pretty one,” he added, leering at Kate. “She’ll be even more useful than you.”

  Once they were both secure, he’d gone into a glass-walled room on the far side of the factory which, Zhai guessed, had originally been the foreman’s office.

  Kate had dozed beside him, off and on through the night. They sat there all the next day, too, through a breakfast of cold rice and overcooked vegetables. Sometimes, he and Kate would chat, but more often there was an easy silence between them as they sat shoulder-to-shoulder in the warm firelight. As much as he wished Kate was somewhere else—somewhere safe—he found her presence comforting.

  The two Snakes were standing in the foreman’s office now, staring at what Zhai thought was a map—or a section of scroll, perhaps—laid out on the table, while their workers sat in chairs that lined the wall, waiting for further instructions. From the few conversations he’d overheard, Zhai had surmised they were waiting for a shipment of more powerful explosives to arrive.

  He had given up trying to think of an escape plan; it was futile. The chains and padlocks were unbreakable, the machine they were chained to was unmovable, the shackles around their wrists were too tight to slip out of—and even if they had somehow managed it, the Snakes kept them under constant surveillance through the glass wall. There was only one possibility to get away, Zhai thought, and he wasn’t sure he could do it. If he could get centered, if he could focus his energy, perhaps he could use Shen to break the manacles. But each time he tried his mind went all fuzzy, like a radio picking up nothing but white noise, and the marks on his hands ached. Somehow, he guessed, the spell that made him a slave to the Order was also blocking his ability to harness Shen.

  He turned to Kate. “I don’t know how I got you into all this,” he said, “but I’m going to get us out of here, I swear. I just have to figure out how.”

  Kate was staring thoughtfully into the fire. “Are you sure it’s the marks on your hands allowin’ them to control you?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Why?”

  She pulled her eyes away from the dancing flames and looked at him, hesitating for a second before she spoke, as if she didn’t want to say what was on her mind. “When Raphael was chained to that burning train car, the hot metal touched his wrist and left a scar.”

  Zhai nodded. “Yeah . . .”

  “If he’d had a tattoo on his wrist, it would have been ruined,” she finished, and she looked back at the fire. Now, Zhai finally understood what she was saying, and why she hadn’t been eager to say it. He might be able to burn the marks off his hands—but it would be incredibly painful, and it might not even work.

  He followed her gaze to the furnace. Behind a door with heavy, iron bars across its face, the fire raged, its flames lashing against the metal. The door had to be hot, there was no question about that. But would it be hot enough to destroy the tattoo?—or just hot enough to cause him a lot of pain.

  Either way, Zhai decided, he had to try.

  With a wary glance at the foreman’s office, he inched closer to the furnace, but Kate grabbed his hand.

  “Wait,” she said. “Maybe it’s a bad idea.”

  “No,” Zhai replied, resigned. “It’s a good idea.” He looked down at her hand in his and couldn’t repress a smile. She smiled back at him, looking truly stunning in the firelight. If only they were in a mountain cabin someplace, or in her little train car, Zhai thought wistfully, instead of chained up in a dingy old factory. He squeezed her hand, steeling himself for what had to be done. Then he quickly crawled forward and pressed the back of his right hand against the furnace door.

  For a second, he felt nothing—the door even felt cool against his skin—then a sudden stinging ignited all the nerves in his hand at once. Still, he kept it pressed to the door. He was trembling now, forehead drenched with sweat. The pain ebbed for a second, then came back tenfold, as if a million wasps were attacking him at once. The world went blurry as his eyes teared up, and he felt suddenly sick as he caught the odor of his own burning flesh. A tendril of black smoke went up from his hand, and there was sound like bacon sizzling in a skillet. Finally, he couldn’t take any more and jerked his hand away, falling back onto the concrete. It was cool against his back and he instinctively pressed his hand against it, his mouth gaping in a silent scream. Kate was there, running her hands through his hair.

  “Zhai! I’m sorry,” she whispered, distraught. “Aw, lad—I shouldn’t have said a word. Not a word.” He was hurting too much to answer.

  Finally, he’d recovered enough to turn his hand over and look at it.

  There were three parallel, crimson gaps in his flesh, each one singed black at the edges. But, he thought with a sense of wild hope, it had worked: the mark was hardly visible now. He was about to repeat the process with the other hand when he heard footsteps and looked toward the office. The two Snakes were approaching.

  “On your feet,” the taller one said.

  “What’s going on?” Zhai asked, not really expecting an answer.

  “A disturbance at the site,” the shorter Snake replied. As he unchained Zhai and Kate from the machine, Zhai hid his mutilated hand, covering it with his uninjured one.

  “Time for you to earn your keep,” the short Snake said to Zhai as he hustled him and Kate toward the door.

  Maybe they can’t control me with only one mark, Zhai hoped. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

  

  Maggie sat staring at the red-and-white checked tablecloth in Rosa’s Trattoria, sipping the last of her Diet Coke and waiting for the dinner she’d ordered for herself and her mother. Even though it was late for dinner, her mom was back in the groove of working on her tapestry, and Maggie was once again subject to her strange whims.

  She sighed as she lifted her eyes from the table and gazed out into the night. It was bitter cold outside and snowing lightly, but the wind had abated, leaving Middleburg in an eerie state of suspension. She replayed the events of the evening before and how, after all the excitement, she had kissed Raphael goodnight—and he hadn’t resisted. And he’d said he was going to break up with Aimee.

  In spite of all the bizarre things that had happened, hanging out with him had been awesome. Maggie took refuge in the fact that, with Raphael in her life now (sort of) and with her new power, she didn’t have to be afraid of Rick anymore. And once she figured out a way to keep her mom safe from him, she w
ould dump him like he deserved to be dumped. She was so deep in thought she didn’t notice Anne Pembrook sitting nearby with Master Chin until she rose and walked over.

  “We need to talk to you,” said the teacher, and Maggie jumped. “Sorry,” she added. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Come have dinner with us.”

  “Oh—no thanks,” Maggie said. “I just ordered take out. But I can sit for a few minutes.” She followed Miss Pembrook back to her table where Chin was waiting. As soon as they sat down, Chin gazed calmly at her. He cleared his throat and then he spoke in verse:

  “A princess who ne’er has lain with a man,

  From exile she shall return,

  Like the great queen before her

  She walks with the winds,

  Transcending the bonds of the earth,

  As a diver through water, she will pass through the stone,

  For no matter or magic may bind her

  The heart of the Wheel she shall pierce with her steps

  To retrieve its celestial fire.

  “Do you remember those words?” he asked.

  “Some of them,” Maggie said. “They’re from the scroll.”

  Anne leaned across the table toward her. “Maggie, Chin thinks they were written about you.”

  Maggie’s eyes widened. “Me?”

  “It refers to a princess, the daughter of a queen,” Chin explained. “And you were just crowned harvest queen—or homecoming queen, rather—by your mother, who wore the crown three times. The scroll alludes to this princess having magical powers, which we know you do. Also, there was a portrait in one of your mother’s tapestries, of a blonde princess wearing a crown. I think that’s you.”

  Maggie could see the similarities but what bothered her was the “ne’er lain with a man” part. She had a pretty good idea what that meant, and although she wasn’t sure if the things she and Rick had done out at Macomb Lake really fell into that category, it didn’t exactly make her pure and untouched. Still, the way Chin and the teacher were looking at her, it was pretty clear they thought she was the one.

  “So what if the scroll is talking about me?” she asked. “What does it mean?”

  “It means that someone—or something—is going to use you to retrieve a very special, sacred object,” Chin said. “But—and this is very important, Maggie. No matter what happens, that object is not to be disturbed. It must stay where it is. It contains a power that mortals are not yet ready to possess. If it were to fall into the wrong hands, it could mean the end—of everyone and everything.”

  Maggie nodded solemnly. Her life was getting weirder by the minute. “So what am I supposed to do?” she asked.

  “I think it’s best if you stay with us,” Chin said. “Only the princess in the prophecy can pass through the enchanted seal and retrieve the treasure. If I’m right, then someone will try and force you to do it—tonight. We can make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I can hang out with you guys after I take some food home to my mom and get her settled in for the night.” Maggie was gratified at the relief in Chin’s face.

  Miss Pembrook smiled at her. “It’s just for tonight,” she said.

  “I’ve translated a little more of the scroll,” Chin said. “If it’s right, the danger will diminish after tonight. But it may not be easy. There were other warnings, too, and I fear we will fight more than one enemy before it’s over. There’s great danger coming—especially for Raphael—but he’s not answering his phone.”

  “I’m in,” Maggie said. “I’ll go and get my mom squared away. I can meet you in less than an hour.”

  Her takeout was ready then, and she grabbed the bag and waved to Mr. Chin and Miss Pembrook as she left. She had to get something from home and she had one more stop to make after that.

  

  Raphael was staring down into the pit when the attack came.

  “You sure there’s no way to dig around it or smash it or anything?” he’d just called down to Nass.

  “No,” Nass called back, sounding like he was a thousand miles away. “It looks like a big slab of stone with some kind of hieroglyphics on it, and it’s all scorched. Looks to me like someone tried to blow it up, but it’s not even cracked.”

  Raphael stared down into the darkness for a moment—the hole was so deep he couldn’t even see Nass’s flashlight beam. That’s when he heard the warning shout.

  “Guys!” Beet yelled.

  Raphael turned to see the Toppers thrashing through the woods, Rick and Bran leading the way. They immediately overpowered Beet and took him to the ground and then charged onward, leaving D’von and Dax to continue kicking Beet. Josh, Emory, and Benji abandoned their lookout posts and hurried to Raphael.

  “It’s not the Obies—it’s the Toppers!” Josh growled. “What the hell are they doing here?”

  Nass’s voice sounded faintly from the depths. “Hey, guys—what’s going on? Guys?” But no one answered him—and there was no time to pull him up so he could help fight off the Toppers either, Raphael thought. They were outnumbered.

  Rick was in the lead, sprinting toward Raphael, who was ready for him, but Emory leaped forward at the last second and tried to tackle him. Raphael had never seen such ferocity from Emory—his difficult experiences lately had obviously made him stronger.

  With Rick tied up, Bran was on Raphael in an instant, throwing barrage after barrage of furious punches. His swing was so wide that Raph blocked the strikes easily with a series of Biu Saus, but Bran’s power was another issue. He drove Raphael back until he was teetering on the edge of the pit. Seeing that he had the advantage, Bran lunged forward and tried to shove Raphael into the hole—but Raphael was quicker. He sidestepped Bran and delivered a spinning backfist to the side of his head as he lurched past.

  With his momentum disrupted, Raph was sure Bran would plummet into the pit—and he could kill Nass if he landed on top of him. But somehow, Bran managed to regain his balance and leap away from the hole. He tumbled to the ground on the other side, rolled to his feet, and turned back to Raphael, angrier than ever.

  “You love to make a fool out of me, don’t you?” he yelled. He was skirting the hole, heading for Raphael, but Raph moved in the same direction and kept the pit between them. When Bran reversed his direction, Raphael did, too. He could see the little game of ring-around-the-rosie was infuriating Bran, and that was good. The angrier he got, the more likely he was to make a stupid mistake.

  Raphael glanced over to see how his guys were doing. It wasn’t good. Emory was on his hands and knees in the weeds, coughing, as Rick kicked him without mercy. Michael Ponder had Benji down in the dirt and was punching him—until Benji managed to jab him in the eye with a finger-strike Raph had taught him. Josh was holding his own with Dax, but as Raphael watched, D’von ran over and pancaked him to the ground. Beet, his already injured nose bloodied once again, ran over to Rick and crashed into him, knocking him off Emory. Rick recovered quickly, picked Beet up, and slammed him to the earth.

  Snow was falling again, coming down faster by the second, so Raph’s view of his comrades was almost obscured by white. This much snow in November wasn’t just unusual, Raph thought with a growing sense of dread—it was unnatural. Like the lightning storm that had happened on Halloween night.

  Bran charged around the hole again, his fury reaching a boiling point, but Raph darted away from him. It was almost time for Raph to make his move. But before he could complete another circuit, Cle’von came stampeding through the blizzard toward him, and with Bran sprinting toward him from the other direction, he was no longer able to run.

  Raphael backed up slowly. Between Bran’s temper and Cle’von’s size, he was in kind of an awkward situation. Then, another figure appeared through the veil of snow.

  Rick.

  “What’s up, Flats rat?” he taunted, taki
ng his place between Bran and Cle’von. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

  And all three of them charged Raphael at once.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “There is a huge underground chamber beneath this mountain,” Orias explained to Aimee. “Envision yourself slipping through the mountain, past the train tracks, through the earth itself, and then on into the chamber. It’s a perfect cube, a mile in each direction, and its walls are made of rose quartz and carved with elaborate symbols no living mortal can read—the celestial tongue. Because of those carvings, the chamber is sealed. The only one who can pass through it is you.”

  Aimee opened her mouth to ask why she had to be the one, but Orias continued. “Close your eyes. See yourself slipping down through the earth, through the wall, through the energy barrier, and into the chamber. Don’t be afraid. If you need me, just talk to me. I’ll be able to hear you. Once inside, you’ll move to the exact center. You will find the treasure there. Don’t worry,” he added in answer to her unspoken question. “You’ll know it when you see it. Go now, Aimee. Time is short.”

  He kissed her gently on the lips, then stepped back.

  Quickly, before tension had a chance to creep all the way up her spine, she closed her eyes, made herself relax, and focused her energy. The next thing she knew, she was traveling . . . slipping. When she stopped falling and opened her eyes, she was in total darkness. She pressed her back against the cool stone of the wall behind her and gradually, her eyes adjusted. She could see a faint blue illumination bleeding through the tangle of looming shadows before her. She knew exactly where she was, but it didn’t ease her anxiety any.

  “Okay, I’m here,” she said aloud and Orias answered her inside her head.

  Good. Tell me what you see.

  “The chamber—it’s just like you described it. The wall behind me and the floor where I’m standing now are carved out of some kind of pink stone—that must be the rose quartz.”

  Perfect. Do you see anything on the quartz?