“No, I’m not making popcorn for you!”
She took the weird coffee-maker off the stove and opened the top part: a large number of tiny Granoks were vibrating in the heat. Oksa looked at Dragomira in astonishment.
“Here’s a small stock of Arborescens already! Give me your Granok-Shooter, Dushka.”
“Oh, I know this Granok; Abakum told me about it. Arborescens, wasn’t it? You can tie your adversary up with it, if I remember rightly.”
Dragomira nodded, smiling.
“What ingredients do you use?”
“In Edefia, we used mainly roots taken from the Feetinsky tree. But, as you can imagine, we had to find an alternative plant on the Outside. After testing ivy, marrows and brambles, we managed to make Arborescens using the sap of voluble plants like bindweed and clematis. It’s not quite as effective as when we use Feetinskies, but it is satisfactory. It’s a fairly complicated manufacturing process: the base is made by steeping sap in perfectly pure spring water, in which chrysoprase—a stone which draws its strength from the night—lakeside algae and Croakette sweat have been submerged.”
“Do Croakettes sweat then?” asked the Young Gracious in amazement.
“Of course!” replied Dragomira, laughing. “In tiny quantities, certainly… but that’s what makes their sweat so valuable.”
Oksa pulled a face, while her Granok-Shooter sucked up a good twenty yellow granules. Baba Pollock poured what was left into a small jar, which she locked in a recess concealed behind one of the many paintings hanging on the wall.
“Is that where you hide the Granoks? Behind Dad’s portrait?”
“Yes, but I don’t need to tell you that this is top secret. Anyway, it’s not enough to know the location of this hiding place, because I’m the only one who can open it.”
“Oh! It’s like the gate at Abakum’s house and the back of the double-bass case: the lock only obeys its master.”
“Exactly.”
After filling her Shooter with Granoks and going over the accompanying words again with Dragomira, Oksa went back downstairs to her room and stretched out on her bed. With her hands behind her head, she stared at the starry sky created on her ceiling. She didn’t think she was afraid. With everything she’d learnt these past few weeks, such as the Granoks and the powers—particularly the Knock-Bong, her favourite—she felt stronger and ready to face new ordeals. When Mortimer had attacked her, she’d defended herself rather effectively and if that traitress, Zoe, hadn’t butted in she’d have managed quite well on her own. And when McGraw had chased them through the sky, she’d managed to fight back, forcing the elderly Felon to beat a hasty retreat. Then again, thinking it over, her victories weren’t all that convincing. If Gus hadn’t reached the school corridor in time, Oksa would have been at the mercy of the two junior McGraws. Which might have cost her more than a broken rib. Not to mention using her powers in school and stupidly running the risk of being seen—this was not the first time she’d broken the basic rule that had kept the Runaways safe for over fifty years: never attract attention. Thinking about it again, Oksa felt deeply ashamed. Then she thought back to the hot-air balloon episode a few weeks earlier. What would have happened if Leomido hadn’t managed to protect her and Gus from the Death’s Head Chiropterans that McGraw had unleashed? And, more recently, what if the Croakettes hadn’t flown to her aid in Abakum’s silo? Her dad sometimes said “if ifs and buts were sugar and nuts, the world would never starve”, and that there was no point dwelling on things you couldn’t change. But it didn’t make her feel any better. She was stronger, much stronger. But Dragomira was right: she had to be careful not to become big-headed about her powers and think too highly of herself, or underestimate the other person, which came down to the same thing—because McGraw had managed to strike right at the heart of her family, despite everyone’s vigilance. And what if he weren’t the only Felon who had left Edefia? Would the Runaways be strong enough to fight? Did they present enough of a united front? Could they count on Leomido? And her dad? He seemed so opposed to this journey to Edefia… Oksa understood how he felt, really. He’d never seen this land, which was by all accounts fabulous but which wasn’t really his. Also, this affair wasn’t without its dangers and Oksa was on the front line, which seemed to be the main cause of his anxiety. But she’d never been to Edefia either! And yet she was prepared to brave a thousand dangers to return to the land of her ancestors. Was it because of the Ageless Fairies, who’d made such a strange and compelling plea? Or because of her growing strength and powers? Or because of the Mark—that incredible eight-pointed star—around her belly button, which became more noticeable with every passing day? She was fascinated and frightened by all these questions, in particular the one whose answer remained shrouded in mystery: what was going to happen?
“Class test! Take out some paper, please. Miss Pollock, as Mr Oyster is away, you will help me put the equipment away after the lesson.”
Dr McGraw’s deceptively casual remark had just taken Oksa by surprise.
“But sir, I have a lesson… a violin lesson afterwards,” lied Oksa, with good cause. “I can’t stay.”
“You play the violin, do you? Well, well, I’d never have thought it of you. I thought you were more interested in kung fu or some other exotic activity. Well, violin or no violin, it’s of no interest to me. We all have things to do after the lesson but you’ll stay behind and help in line with what was agreed at the start of the school year: every Thursday evening a student will help me put everything away.”
“I can stay, sir!” Gus immediately offered.
“Mr Bellanger,” sighed McGraw with an exaggeratedly weary look, “we all know how gentlemanly you are. But it’s a rather old-fashioned quality these days and you’ll have to devise some other tactic to get yourself noticed by girls. Anyway, Miss Pollock comes right after Mr Oyster in the alphabet, which never changes its order and is constant, unlike gallant teenagers. So it will be Miss Pollock.”
There were sniggers from a few students, led by Hilda Richard. Embarrassed and furious, Gus hunched at the back of the class. His anger soon gave way to concern: there was no way Oksa could be left alone with McGraw. He gazed at his friend’s back and could sense how worried she was. Huddled over her desk, Oksa was thinking fast. She had to call home to warn her father or Dragomira! With the utmost care, she opened her little shoulder bag. The Tumble-Bawler stroked her fingers as a sign of recognition when she took out her brand-new mobile. Keeping an eye on McGraw, who was walking among the desks, she put the phone in her lap and began texting:
5.30pm = on my own…
Suddenly the screen went dead. Edgily, Oksa glanced in McGraw’s direction: he was barely six feet away from her, smiling maliciously. He made a small gesture with his fingertips and the phone immediately came on again. It made Oksa’s blood boil and she quickly resumed texting. Too bad if McGraw saw her! Which he did, of course; with clear enjoyment he made the same gesture again and Oksa saw a slender thread of light leaving the phone and heading straight for the despicable teacher’s fingertips. The power had just been sucked out of the battery! With a smug expression, McGraw continued his rounds, leaving Oksa with her unusable phone. She turned round and tried to catch Gus’s eye, which wasn’t easy because there were quite a few students sitting between them. It soon became totally impossible, because McGraw kept standing between the two friends, preventing any eye contact. Oksa’s stomach churned with panic and her forehead was beaded with perspiration. Her panic was making her feel nauseated. Her head was a jumble of thoughts and she couldn’t think straight. The Curbita-Flatulo squeezed her wrist and undulated with increasing force beneath her sleeve. Oksa shut her eyes and tried to breathe in time with the movements of the living bracelet. A few minutes later, she felt a little less scared and more confident. Unfortunately, though, she still couldn’t see a way out of this mess. In frustration, she rummaged about in her bag and took a gold-coloured Capacitor from her Caskinette—the Excelsior, whi
ch was supposed to boost mental abilities. She hadn’t tried it yet, so maybe it would help her make the right decisions? Next to the Excelsiors gleamed the Ventosas, which were a pretty pearly colour. With her fingertips she picked out one of those too. She might need it, you never knew… She’d just swallowed the two tiny capsules when Merlin turned round to wink at her in encouragement. Thirty seconds later, Oksa slipped him a hastily scribbled note:
Merlin, tell Gus, phone dead. Let my father know. Very URGENT. Thanks.
Merlin turned round again and nodded to Oksa: he’d understood, she could count on him.
This was hands down the worst test Oksa had ever done in all her school years, given that her mind definitely wasn’t on science. The Young Gracious was sensibly preparing for the worst: McGraw was bound to change up a gear, and if he thought she was going to let herself be trapped easily without putting up a fight, he didn’t know her at all.
The students scattered immediately when the bell rang. No one ever hung around after McGraw’s lessons, particularly not on a Thursday evening when Year 8 Hydrogen was the last form to have a lesson in the deserted school. Only Gus and Merlin didn’t rush to put their things away. Oksa tried to catch Gus’s eye but McGraw took a sly delight in standing between them. Oksa twisted round and, against all odds, managed to show her friend her mobile, gesturing that it wasn’t working. And when the two boys walked out of the classroom, glancing anxiously at her one last time to show their support, she saw Gus brandishing the scrap of paper she’d passed to Merlin. Then he gave her a thumbs-up and immediately took out his phone, so she realized her message had been delivered. Phew! Gus would go and get Pavel, who was waiting for them as usual at the exit, and they’d both come racing to her aid. She just had to hang in there for a few minutes. Still she watched Gus and Merlin walking away through the windows lining the corridor with a heavy heart. A heavy heart which sank even further when McGraw shut the door, turned the key in the lock and turned round with his Granok-Shooter in his hand and an ominously sardonic smile on his face.
63
THE FELON ATTACKS
“AHA, MY DEAR, VERY DEAR OKSA!” BOOMED MCGRAW in his grating voice. “You’ve led me a merry dance.”
“I’m not your dear Oksa. Let me go, you filthy traitor!”
It hadn’t taken McGraw long to fire a Granok at Oksa. He’d attacked as soon as the door was closed, and the girl had immediately found herself suspended six feet above the floor by two Croakettes holding her firmly by the elbows. She’d been expecting an attack but McGraw had still taken her by surprise—which is why she was beside herself with rage. How could she have let herself be caught like that? Now she was hanging there helplessly in the air, struggling frantically. She swung her legs back and forth like a pendulum to try and break free, but the winged frogs were phenomenally strong. She reckoned they’d be able to lift the Statue of Liberty!
“Let you go?” retorted McGraw with an evil laugh. “You must be joking! Now that I’ve got you, I’m certainly not going to let you go just because you tell me to. You may be the Gracious, but you’re powerless against me.”
“You won’t get anything from me. Ever!” shouted Oksa, trying to struggle free.
“Are you mad, you little fool? Do you really think you can stop me? I’ve been waiting for fifty-seven years. Every single person who’s stood in my way has regretted it.”
“Yes, and we all know what that means!” yelled Oksa, glaring at him. “Lucas Williams and Peter Carter paid very dearly for it, you monster.”
McGraw looked at her in amazement, with one eyebrow raised.
“Lucas Williams and Peter Carter? I’d almost forgotten those two… you’re certainly quick on the uptake. But no thirteen-year-old kid is going to come between me and the realization of my dreams. I tried weakening you, but I hit another target entirely. Your poor, dear mother, the delightful Marie Pollock, what a shame,” mocked McGraw. “But I’ve got you at last. There’s nothing you can do about it, it’s the law of the strongest, my dear. And I am the strongest! I’m going to put you into a deep sleep and keep you near me until you and your beloved grandmother open the Portal for me.”
Suddenly someone tapped on one of the windows separating the classroom from the corridor. Mortimer McGraw was gesturing to his father from the other side. He flashed a spiteful, ironic look at Oksa, still suspended in mid-air by the Croakettes. McGraw went over to the window.
“All done, Dad! I did what you told me to do,” shouted Mortimer.
“Good boy. You’d better be off, now.”
“But Dad…”
He clearly wanted to tell him something. McGraw turned round and glanced at Oksa, who was still being held captive by the Croakettes, and went out into the corridor. Immediately his young prisoner, her mind in turmoil, stimulated by her anger and by the Excelsior Capacitor, took advantage of the fact that the elderly Felon had relaxed his vigilance to call to her Tumble-Bawler and her Curbita-Flatulo. She knew Gus and her father wouldn’t be long but, in the meantime, the only help she could count on was from those two faithful creatures, which hadn’t left her side for weeks.
“Help me!” she murmured to them. “I don’t know how, but I’m begging you, help me…”
Immediately the Tumble-Bawler opened the bag’s fastener from the inside, climbed out and sprang up Oksa’s right side in the direction of her shoulder. When it reached her elbow it savagely scratched the Croakette, which immediately let go with a growl. Oksa suddenly lost altitude on one side and, with her free hand, snatched the Granok-Shooter from her open bag. On the other side, the Curbita-Flatulo uncoiled and crawled hastily up to her other suspended elbow. With a snap of the jaws it dislodged the second Croakette, which hastily flew off, complaining bitterly about the Curbita’s appalling manners. The “Free Oksa” operation had barely taken five seconds. The Young Gracious, her feet back on solid ground at last, felt readier than she’d ever been to cross swords with McGraw. Taking no chances this time, she took cover under one of the desks.
“OKSA!” thundered McGraw, bursting into the classroom. “OKSA! You won’t escape me, there’s no point hiding.”
By way of an answer, Oksa took a deep breath to focus her thoughts. She swept the room with her gaze, smashing all the test tubes and bottles on the worktops. Tiny fragments of glass scattered at McGraw’s feet and he gave a roar of anger. As they mixed together, the chemicals began giving off acrid fumes and spattered the teacher’s spotless shoes. He hurriedly grabbed the first rag he could get his hands on and angrily tried to clean his reeking footwear. During this time, sensibly crouching down, Oksa changed hiding places and scurried under another desk.
“I can hear you, you little pest, I can hear the slightest movement you make, the quietest breath you take. Didn’t dear old Leomido—my blood brother—tell you I possess the Volumiplus power?”
At these words, Oksa directed a Magnetus at the taps on the worktops in the middle of the classroom. Jets of water suddenly spurted out with such force that they were almost horizontal. Soaked from head to foot, McGraw performed a reverse Magnetus, turning them off one by one, as Oksa strove to turn them back on immediately.
“You can show off all you want, it won’t get you anywhere!”
McGraw went to the back of the classroom and pressed down on a red lever, immediately cutting off the water supply. But now Oksa, whose brain was working overtime, let fly with a Fireballistico, scoring a direct hit on the coat stand where McGraw’s hat and overcoat were hanging.
“You’ve set fire to your favourite teacher’s clothes. Are you satisfied now? Not bad, I must admit, I can see that Dragomira has pulled out all the stops… but it’s no big deal compared to what I have in store for you,” said McGraw with a horrible snigger. “And when you’re finally mine, it will be the turn of that decrepit old shrew.”
Oksa stood up, taking the risk of leaving herself exposed:
“I forbid you to speak like that about my gran!”
And she
aimed her Granok-Shooter at her adversary and blew into it.
“Oho! Little fool! You still have room for improvement.”
McGraw had just avoided the Tornaphyllon Granok, but this didn’t cancel out its effect. Out of nowhere, a small but very fierce tornado appeared in the lab. It careered around the classroom, overturning all the utensils which were still intact. The sheets of paper left on the desks were blown into the four corners, while the fluorescent tubes and the windows giving onto the corridor exploded. Awed by the destruction she’d just unleashed, Oksa dived under another desk, ripping the trousers of her school uniform on the shards of test tube strewn over the floor. She curled up as small as she could, bending over and protecting her head with her arms. Too late, unfortunately—she had been hit in the face by some splinters of glass. She wiped her hand over her forehead and cheeks and cried out more from fear than pain when she saw it was covered in blood—a fear which increased tenfold when she saw McGraw’s shadow looming over her.
“I told you I was THE STRONGEST!”
He immediately blew into his Granok-Shooter and fired a Granok, which narrowly missed Oksa, who took off like a rocket. This time she stopped before knocking herself out against the ceiling, but she was immediately joined by McGraw. Floating six feet from each other, they faced off like wild animals about to attack. Oksa, her heart pounding, stood fast and made a supreme effort not to take her eyes off the vile teacher—an effort which bore fruit, because she suddenly saw a thin ray of light, like a lightning bolt, shoot from her enemy’s fiery eyes. She rolled to one side to avoid the electric current, which hit the wall behind her with a hideous crackle. Standing in mid-air, the Felon attacked again and Oksa only escaped by frantically running around the walls to evade the bolts of electricity. After circling the entire room several times, she decided to change tactics and used the momentum from her last leap to reach the centre of the classroom.
Oksa Pollock: The Last Hope Page 37
