She leaned back in her seat and ran her fingers through her hair. Everything around her smelled like smoke. She wore the scent like a whisper of disaster. On the seat next to her was the Lawless yearbook. To M, it was less of a book and more of a tombstone. It marked the end of her home. The end of her father. The end of Jones. The end of her time at Lawless and the end of her time at the Fulbright Academy. But it wasn’t the end of her mission, because now she had proof that both schools were connected. If this information got out, the Fulbrights and the Lawless grads would revolt against Doe and whatever he was planning.
M picked it up. The fire had done its work. The cover was brown at the edges and pages were stuck together, melted and molded by the sheer destructive temperatures from inside the escape pod. The yellow pages that did survive now curled at the margins and warped into odd folds that bent the kids’ faces into strange shapes, so they were barely human-looking. Not that it mattered anymore. This book was so old, none of these people were alive now. She was chasing a ghost through these distorted pages, but she didn’t even believe in ghosts.
“Find anything?” asked Foley from the front seat.
“Not yet,” admitted M. She watched Foley’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He shifted back and forth between watching the road and watching her.
She flipped through the crusted pages looking for the incriminating picture of Jonathan Wild, but she missed it on her first pass. M returned to the front of the book and began again, this time smoothing out the curled edges of each page, looking at the page numbers.
Losing patience, M flipped the book upside down, then held the front and back cover out like a bird’s wings and shook them. The inner pages flapped and rustled like they were trying to fly. She cracked the spine, too, and peered into the binding where the pages were glued together.
“Um, Freeman’s gone crazy,” said Foley.
“I’m looking for any tears or rips, places where someone might have torn a page out,” said M. She found a slivered strip of carefully shorn paper. “Zara, you said I was found walking through the woods, right? Who found me?”
“Your mom,” said Zara, whipping around in her seat. “She didn’t mention an old yearbook, though. Why?”
M slammed the book shut. “I think she might have stolen the only thing that proves John Doe is behind everything.”
“But your mom’s good, right?” asked Jules from the back. “She’s on our side, yeah? I mean, she’s your mom.”
Her mom had taken on many roles during M’s life. Mother. Stranger. Bully. Art historian. Artist. Copy artist. Thief. Criminal. Prisoner. Savior. Betrayer. Liar. Defender. But would she have stolen from her own daughter? “Zara, do you swear you didn’t know about this?”
“I swear.” Zara’s mouth dropped open in a show of shock and concern. It hadn’t dawned on her that M’s mom might have double-crossed her and Madame V.
“It’s okay, Zara,” comforted M. “My mom can sneak up on you like that.”
An uncomfortable quiet took over the van. Everyone was deep in thought when the GPS navigator broke the silence. “You have arrived at your destination.”
The van turned into a driveway that ran up a small hill to a modern-looking house. The roof was flat and jutted out over a row of wall-sized windows that showcased every room in the front of the home. It was like looking into a dollhouse, with the den, dining room, and a library exposed for the world to see. The best way to pretend you have nothing to hide is to show that you have nothing to hide, thought M.
“So, how do we play this?” asked Jules. “I mean, these are Lawless parents we’re dealing with. They’ll probably want M’s head on a platter.”
“Look at that house,” said M. “If we have any chance of winning the Eaves over, then we need to be honest and upfront with them. Let me go first, by myself. I owe Merlyn’s parents a long explanation. Maybe after they hear what I have to say, they’ll help us.”
“And if they don’t?” asked Foley.
“Let’s burn that bridge when we get to it,” said M as she made to step outside.
“Wait,” said Zara. “You can’t go up there in your suit. You’ll scare the dickens out of them.”
“You’re right,” M admitted. The glowing red wires in the suit did add a demonic flare. She slipped the suit off and left it behind, except for her glove, which she stashed in her pocket.
“Should we have a signal, in case things get out of control?” asked Jules.
“I’ve got my magblast glove, so if I need you, the message will be loud and clear.” M left the van and walked up the manicured path to the glass front door. Even gazing directly through the windows, she still had no idea what was waiting for her on the other side.
A low-toned bell rang once from inside the house when M pressed the illuminated button by the front door. The sound echoed peacefully and calmed her down. She didn’t have much experience meeting her friends’ parents. The exception was Calvin Fence — who she supposed was more of an enemy now, actually. Either way, it hadn’t gone well. Cal’s mom, Ms. Watts, had tried to kill her. His dad, Mr. Fence, had been abducted while on a mission with M. Not the best batting average for meeting friends’ families.
But this was a dire situation. Keyshawn needed medical attention, both Lawless and the Fulbrights were after her, and Merlyn was one of the few people on the planet she could trust.
In the window, M could see her disheveled reflection. Her clothes were wrinkled and looked slept in, though still probably a better choice than her battle suit. She tried to tame her hair, but each time she patted it down it sprang back like an umbrella popping open automatically. There were soot smudges on the side of her neck that wouldn’t rub off and a nice-size goose egg above her left eye, probably where Adam or Rex had connected during their fight. But she put on a smile and placed her hands behind her in the most unassuming pose she could muster.
From behind the library shelves, a woman emerged wearing a black dress with three-quarter sleeves. Her blond hair bounced airily with each step and her bright red high-heeled shoes clicked as she approached the door. She looked through the glass and gave M a sideways, curious smile before turning the knob.
“Hello?” Her eyes met with M’s and then moved past her to the black van parked in her driveway.
“Hello, ma’am, I’m friends with your son, Merlyn. Is he home?” M felt silly asking the question. It was an act of courtesy and social politeness, but gosh-darn-it if she didn’t sound like a blast from the past goody-two-shoes.
“He is,” confirmed the woman as she stepped aside and invited M inside with a lithe hand gesture. Everything about her was graceful, as if she were completely unbothered by a strange-looking kid showing up on her doorstep unannounced at nine o’clock at night. “I’m Merlyn’s mother, Mrs. Eaves. May I have your name?”
“Freeman. M Freeman.”
“Of course.” The woman showed a polite flash of white teeth that read as both relaxed and threatening. “We’ve heard so much about you. It’s wonderful to finally meet in person. Will your friends be joining us?”
“Respectfully, ma’am, only if it’s okay with Merlyn, yourself, and Mr. Eaves,” said M.
“Then let’s go ask Merlyn, shall we?” Mrs. Eaves eased the door closed and led M deeper into the house. There was a long zipper running down the back of her dress that made M reimagine the woman as a robot, how the metal teeth flowed along her spine and stood out so drastically against the black fabric. The situation felt suddenly dangerous, but M followed along.
Behind the library shelves the home opened up into one large, open room divided only by furniture into a kitchen, a den, and a dining area. A large TV beamed bright colors as two cars raced in a video game across the giant screen. One car swerved sloppily out of control, careening against the walled edges of the racetrack. It held the position of Last Place according to the blinking text above its roof.
A low-end rumble shook the floorboards under M’s feet. She looked down a
nd was again taken by Mrs. Eaves’s red shoes. They clasped tightly around her ankles and had thin heels that were more like weapons than fashion. A screech erupted from another set of speakers to M’s left, which made her flinch. But then Mrs. Eaves made another smooth hand gesture like a concert conductor quieting an orchestra and miraculously the television volume lowered.
“Mom,” complained a shaggy-haired boy who sat cross-legged on a couch with his back to M, “it’s not as real with the sound turned down so low.”
“Merlyn, you have a guest.” His mother nodded in M’s direction in a way that at first made M feel like the video game was more important than her. The introduction was more of an apology for ruining her son’s night. But when M saw Merlyn’s eyes light up, she realized that Mrs. Eaves was being careful and cautious, handling M like an unstable weapon that could do even more damage to her son if not handled delicately.
“M, you’re alive!” Merlyn bolted up and gave her a crushing hug. “I knew you must be alive. See, Mom and Dad, I told you.”
“You did, son,” agreed Mrs. Eaves. “And it looks like you were right, thank heavens.”
“Geez, where are my manners? Can I get you anything?” asked Merlyn as he pulled back and held M’s shoulders as if to study her and make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “We’ve got water, juice, tea, fruit —”
“I’m fine,” M interrupted. “No, thank you, that is.”
“Well, Ms. Freeman, to what do we owe this late-night honor?” Merlyn’s father rose out of his chair and set his video game remote down on the glass coffee table. He was thin, like Merlyn, with a thick set of glasses, and he wore a T-shirt that read Have you metadata? That made M laugh a little. The app didn’t fall far from the operating system.
“Sorry about dropping by unannounced, Mr. Eaves,” said M. “My friends and I were passing through town and thought it would be rude to not stop and say hello.”
“Oh, you should definitely invite them in, dear,” pled Merlyn’s mother. “I insist. And you know, I have the perfect treat. Lemon squares. Freshly baked.”
In the pristine kitchen, a lone tray stacked with lemon squares sat on the white marble island. Mrs. Eaves walked over and lifted the lid up and pretended to smell the air around them. “I do so love the smell of fresh lemons. And we made more than enough for you and your friends.” Then she clamped the lid shut again.
“Mom, lemon squares are great, but this is M here!” said Merlyn. “We’ve been through … well, a lot together. Can you give us a minute to catch up?”
“Sure, honey.” His mother’s voice trailed down at the end, like her feelings were hurt, but his parents left the room. “We’ll be upstairs if you need anything.”
“How are you?” asked M once they were alone. “Like after that night.” She was introducing a darkness into the room, but she didn’t have time to tread lightly.
Merlyn shuddered, just slightly, at her question. “I’m good, you know? I mean, I’m not super into computers anymore. Guess I lost my taste for it. Still like video games, though, even if I’m horrible at them.”
“Who doesn’t? So … what are you doing for school …” M began, but Merlyn spoke over her.
“This is a bad idea, coming here, M. Who’s in the car?”
“Old friends,” M said. “What’s going on, Merlyn? Why was coming here a bad idea?”
“Who. Is. In. The. Car. M?” Merlyn’s voice was suddenly concerned. He spoke slowly and emphasized every single word.
M took a deep breath. “Keyshawn, for starters, and he’s hurt. Zara, of course. Jules. Foley, who’s being really weird. And Evel Zoso, Devon’s older brother.”
“Foley’s with you?” Merlyn looked perplexed. “And Keyshawn, didn’t he serve us up on a platter to John Doe?”
“It’s not over, Merlyn,” M insisted. “There’s something bigger coming, something world-ending, and we are the only ones who can stop it. If you’re in, then we need you. We need you even if you’re not in, but I’d rather you join us willingly.”
“You need to leave,” he said. “I’m not joining you. I’m worthless out in the real world now.”
“You’re not worthless to me.” M paused and saw Merlyn’s trembling eyes. There was more than fear in them. There was shame.
“I know that, M,” he confessed. “That’s why my parents used me in this trap.”
“Trap?” M looked around the house again, this time in a different light. It wasn’t as much an open living space as it was a room with nowhere to hide. Windows surrounded her, peering out into the black night outside, which meant that anyone outside had a perfect view of her in the well-lit home.
Merlyn shook his head. “I’m sorry, M. My parents and Dr. Lawless, they set this trap for you as soon as I was returned. You walked right into it, and I can’t help you now.”
“He’s right, Ms. Freeman.” The sly voice snuck into the room like a foul odor, catching her by surprise. Dr. Lawless stepped down the floating staircase dramatically, which M assumed was the only way he knew how to enter a room. His long red hair was pulled back into a ponytail that wrapped around the shoulder of his black business suit like a snake. He was leaning on a cane in his left hand, though M wasn’t certain whether he needed it, or if the cane was another fashion statement … or another weapon.
“See, you might have learned a thing or two at my school, but we were studying you, too. We’ve learned your weaknesses … like caring about your friends. A gullible trait you apparently share with your late father. Very regrettable, if you ask me. And now here you are to save Merlyn Eaves just as we planned. There’s no more running, my dear.”
“I’m not running,” stated M as she slid her hands into her pockets. “I’m visiting my friend to make sure he’s okay.”
Dr. Lawless gave a low chuckle. “We both know that’s not true. Tell Mr. Eaves about how you’ve collected the people in the van. Tell him about saving Jules first, about visiting your own house first. Or rather, the hole in the ground where you used to live.”
M stared at him coldly but remained silent.
“We’re even now, you lousy brat,” Lawless continued. “You destroyed my home and I’ve destroyed yours.” He stepped directly in front of M, so close she could hear his leather glove scrunch as he gripped his cane tighter with anger and anticipation. “The only thing Mr. Eaves will be joining this evening is the long list of individuals disappointed in you.”
Merlyn paced the floor and held his head with his hands. “You can’t just barge in here and ask me to leave with you, M. You can’t just ask me to leave my parents, either. They love me, you know.”
“They used you as bait to get me here,” M reminded him with shock in her voice. “And I’m not asking you to leave your parents. Invite them along. Let them know that I’m out to take down John Doe and everything he stands for. I would think that Lawless here would give that mission a gold star.”
The red-haired Fox Lawless sneered with pleasure. “If that’s your game, Freeman, then I’ll personally join in the efforts to dismantle the Fulbrights.”
“I’m not after the Fulbrights,” corrected M. “I want John Doe —”
Lawless’s smile dropped and he grabbed M by the neck, lifting her off the ground. He gritted his teeth and hissed, “The only way I’ll let you near Doe is over your dead body.”
Struggling, M pulled her gloved fist out of her pocket and brought it down hard. A powerful ripple from her magblast thrust Lawless aside and shattered all the windows on the first floor of the house.
“How’s that for a signal, guys?” M coughed as she felt her neck to make sure it was intact. Then she held out her gloved hand to Merlyn. “I’m sorry I wrecked your life, but we need you if we’re going to stop Doe. Are you with us?”
Merlyn stumbled backward and fell to the ground, wincing as if he thought M might magblast him, too. “Get out of here!” he screamed. “I can’t help you anymore, so just leave before you really hurt someone!”
“
Merlyn, wait —” Before M could finish, her left hand was lashed by something cold and metallic. A force jerked her around and M relented, feeling her arm almost detach from its socket. It was Mrs. Eaves, and the zipper from the back of her expensive-looking dress was now a whip digging into M’s flesh.
“Sounds like the playdate’s over, young lady,” she said from halfway down the steps. “You’ve worn out your welcome.”
Foley and Zara flew into the room, crunching over the shards of glass that covered the ground like the debris of a shimmering accident.
“Let her go!” screamed Evel as he ran into the room and reached through the staircase slats from behind, grabbing Mrs. Eaves’s ankles and pulling. The attack caught her off guard and her whip uncoiled from M’s wrist as she fell to the ground, hard. The walloping sound startled Evel. “Sorry, ma’am!”
But as soon as she landed, Mrs. Eaves lashed her whip back at him, trapping Evel’s legs and pulling him down, too. He writhed like a fish caught on a line. But M conjured a magblast that gently shoved Evel out of her grip and to safety.
That’s when the others arrived. There were ten of them from all sorts of Lawless School cliques, but these weren’t students. These were adults, hardened criminals, who all had an axe to grind with M. They entered through the broken glass windows. Great, thought M, I’m glad I made way for their warpath. She took aim at the nearest target when Foley reacted first, firing a series of deep-freeze stunners that knocked three of the thugs out immediately. Then Zara launched into Mrs. Eaves while a home alarm went off, triggered by Mr. Eaves, most likely. M magblasted the others, but that merely shoved them back into the forest surrounding the house. It would only buy her a few minutes.
Meanwhile Merlyn scampered off through a door that slammed shut, followed by a second metal door that dropped down like a guillotine, severing M’s chances of rescuing her friend.
Mayhem Page 12
