by Jacob Whaler
The green mist inside the sphere dissipates.
Soft blue lights spiral up the side of his jax, and Ryzaard walks forward. The white sphere that sealed up Sergi to his death withdraws into a dot over his head and fades to nothing.
Ryzaard reaches to the floor with a handkerchief and picks up the bloody Stone.
Still warm.
After wiping it carefully, he drops it into the open palm of his hand and closes his fingers on it. Then he walks to the back of the chair and picks up the killing machine that ended Sergi’s life.
Walking a few paces, he stops and turns to look back at the chair.
Too easy, he thinks, and vanishes in a white flash.
CHAPTER 20
The freedom camp in Stanley Park.
Sun on his face. The fragrance of spring. Birdsong.
Matt and Jessica are standing in the middle of a large crowd. He drops the Stone into the cloaking box and snaps the lid shut. The sound reminds him that, without the Stone, he and Jessica are vulnerable to the people of the freedom camp.
At least Ryzaard won’t know we’re here.
The eyes of the multitude turn to stare. Matt smiles and brings a hand up to wave, a gesture of friendship. He studies their faces as they study his. The words he is about to say flow through his mind.
Sorry. I know you’ve been waiting a long time for help. Little John probably told you about us. We finally made it.
He steps forward.
A man’s finger points up at him, lips moving. “Abomination!”
The air fills with voices, screaming and yelling. Chaos.
Matt clears his throat. “Hello everyone. It’s taken a while, but I’m finally here to hel—”
Metal cracks against the back of his head. He hears the sickening thud of Jessica’s pulse rifle dropping to the ground and hitting a rock. Her body falls away. A high-pitched ringing blasts through his ears.
There goes Plan B, he thinks, as his cheek slams into the pulse rifle on the ground.
He reaches for the cloaking box as it’s kicked into a sea of feet and hands. Consciousness slips away.
In the haze that follows, a woman’s voice rains down.
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
Matt gulps in air. A biting headache pierces his eyeballs from inside his skull. An intense sea of light blinds him.
The voice penetrates into his consciousness again.
“I’ll ask you one more time. What is your name? What are you doing here?” This time, it has an edge that compels him to answer.
“Where is here?” Matt says. “And where is Jessica?”
From out of the intense light, a hand slaps the side of his face. Sparks of pain explode behind his eyes.
“You don’t understand,” the woman says. “I’m the one asking questions. Why are you here, and why have you brought Abomination with you?”
Matt tries to put a hand up to shield his eyes, but both of his arms are tied down. It’s the same for his legs and feet. And his upper body. He is completely restrained, lashed to a board in a horizontal position.
The first order of business is to find Jessica and jump them both far away from these crazy people. He needs the Stone for that. Relaxing his arms and legs, he fills his lungs with air, reaching out.
And touches a void. The Stone’s presence is gone.
Naked and alone, he struggles one more time against the ropes holding him and slowly opens his eyes, only to be met with the same intense glare, forcing them shut again.
No choice. Time for a little cooperation.
“My name’s Matt Newmark.” He cracks his eyelids open and thinks he sees a row of people sitting in a square on all sides. “I was sent here by my friend, Little John.”
At the mention of the name, general murmuring floats past him. From the muffled sounds, Matt guesses he’s inside an enclosed area. From the smell of dirt and canvass, it must be a tent.
“How do you know Little John?” The voice is directly over his head, about a meter away. It’s gentler this time. “He’s dead.”
Matt squints, trying to get a glimpse of the woman standing above him. He thinks he sees long black hair, but can’t be sure.
Now it’s time to take a harder line.
“I won’t answer any more questions until I know where Jessica is.”
He braces himself for another slap to the face.
Instead, the platform beneath him begins to jerk and move, bringing him into a vertical position, still facing the intense light, still unable to see.
“The girl is safe. We intend no harm to you or her if, indeed, you are a friend of Little John’s.”
Now we’re getting somewhere.
“If you turn off the lights, I’ll prove that what I say is true.”
A flutter of movement stirs in the room. The lights dim.
Matt slowly opens his eyes and looks himself over, seeing that his skin is still blue from head to toe.
No wonder they think I’m a weirdo.
He can see now that he is lashed to a flat board, spread-eagle style, inside a large tent made of dirty white canvas. A single row of portable chairs surrounds him on three sides. From the looks of the people in the chairs, their sunburned faces and rough clothes, they’ve been living in the outdoors for months, if not years.
A map hangs on the far wall of the tent. Matt stares at it and realizes it’s a layout of the freedom camp, showing groves of trees, rock outcroppings, beaches and cliff areas. Long arms of a star radiate out from a central open area. A single red dot hangs on one of the tips of the star, close to the water. Squiggly lines crisscross the camp.
A woman with long black hair stands beside him, hands on her hips, legs spread apart. “Where’s the proof?”
“Where’s Jessica?” Matt tilts his head and lets the hint of a grin appear on his lips.
“As I said, no harm has been done to—”
“I want to see her.” Matt scans the room. “Then I’ll show you the proof.”
A flash of anger shoots through the woman’s eyes, but it quickly subsides. She turns to the row of people sitting behind her and nods. Two large men stand and walk out of the tent. Everyone in the room, including the woman beside him, stares in silence at him and his blue skin.
Matt smiles again, trying not to look too scary.
After a long minute, the two men enter the tent carrying a large wooden board the size of a door.
Like Matt, Jessica is lashed, in spread-eagle fashion, to its surface. Her eyes are closed, but Matt can see her chest rising and falling with each breath.
The two men stand her up on the other side of Matt.
“Wake her,” the woman says.
One of the men reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small vial of blue liquid. He screws off the lid, filling the room with the smell of ammonia. When he waves the open container under Jessica’s nostrils, she inhales. And coughs violently.
Her eyes flutter open and pan the room until they come to rest on Matt. “So much for Plan B,” she says.
Matt smiles. “No problem, Jess.”
The woman with the black hair stands on the other side of Matt. She clears her throat. Her hands come up to her hips. “Now, the proof?”
“Right,” Matt says. “The proof.” He scans the room two or three times and looks back at the woman. “I’ll need my backpack. And two free hands.”
The woman’s eyes narrow. “We already tried to open it, and it wouldn’t work. We couldn’t get the blade of a knife through the outside either.”
“Of course you couldn’t open it.” Matt stretches his fingers and toes under the lashings. His eyes search the room for the little null box, but find nothing. “It’s got a bio-lock, so it won’t open unless my hands are on it. That’s why I need you to untie them. It’s made of precast carbonite fibers, the best you can find on the Mesh. The stuff’s bullet-proof. There’s no other way to open it, other than shaped charges.” He looks at Jess and barely moves his lips.
/> Got them in the palm of my hand now.
A tall man with a bald head, a long beard and a torn shirt stands up and looks squarely at Matt, pointing at his chest.
“Look at his blue skin,” the man says. “He’s a walking Abomination. I found this in his pocket.” He holds up Matt’s jax and throws it to the ground like a poisonous snake.
Matt’s eyes go from Jessica to the man. “What? Abomination? I don’t understand?”
Heads nod in the room.
“Agreed,” someone says. “It’s too dangerous to keep him here. He’s a spy for the ones who killed Little John.”
The woman with the black hair walks to the middle of the room and folds her arms on her chest. By now, it’s clear that she’s in charge.
Her eyes narrow and sweep across the room. “All of us, myself included, were born of Abomination. Let us not forget that.” She turns to Matt. “If he was sent by Little John, it will be clear soon enough. If he fails to produce the proof, he will be cast out. Agreed?”
Matt has no idea what the woman is talking about, but she appears to be taking his side, at least for the moment. He moves his eyes across the room to see all but a few of the heads nodding in agreement.
The woman walks close to Matt and stares into his face with dark eyes. Well-defined wrinkles extend out from the corners like rays of the sun. She’s probably in her mid-forties, perhaps closer to fifty. Her brown skin matches her hair. Judging from the shape of her face and cheekbones, she’s a native Canadian, perhaps Inuit. A thin gold necklace clings to the skin on her neck with a small dangling whale.
“I’m Eva,” she says. “The Children of the camp follow me, when they choose to.”
“My name is Matt.”
“I know.” Eva smiles. “You already told us. And this must be Jessica.” She turns and nods to the two men sitting behind her.
Each of them stand up, walk to the side of the tent and pick up a crossbow made of black metal. Then they move back in front of Matt, drop silver arrows into the bows, cock them, and point the tips squarely at Matt’s chest. Their index fingers rest on the trigger.
Eva turns back to Matt. “A necessary precaution. No funny business, OK?”
Matt nods. “Got it.”
She unties the black cords on his wrists, leaving the lashing across his chest and biceps in place.
He slowly raises his hands. “Let me make a slight adjustment.” Bringing a hand up to his belly, his fingers disappear under his T-shirt.
The two men with the crossbows stiffen, each taking a step forward. The tips of the arrows are only two meters from his chest. They look back and forth between Matt and Eva.
“Don’t be alarmed.” Matt’s fingers find the dot on his sternum and press.
Before their eyes, the blue color withdraws from the top of his head, down his face, ears and neck, up his hands, arms and legs until it entirely disappears under his shirt.
The bald man sitting in front of Matt falls back in his chair, eyes wide, a hand rising to his mouth.
“Holy Abomination!” he says.
The men with crossbows bend closer, fingers playing on the triggers.
Eva stretches out her arm. “Hold your fire!” Without taking her eyes off Matt, she walks forward and lifts up his shirt, seeing the blue dot on his chest. “Any more surprises like that and I may be too late to save you.”
Matt’s eyebrows rise. “Sorry. I just thought this would make me a little more presentable.”
“I suggest you worry less about presentation and more about producing the proof.” Without taking her eyes off Matt, Eva reaches to the floor and comes up with his backpack, holding it in one hand, biceps flexing.
Matt reaches out to it. As soon as he touches it, the top opens. His hand goes inside and searches. A smile spreads across his face when his fingers find what they are looking for. He turns to Jessica and silently moves his lips.
Plan C.
His hand comes out with Yarah’s little monkey statue and raises it up for everyone in the room to see.
Eva stumbles backwards and falls to her knees, her eyes dropping to the floor. The men with crossbows lower them to the ground and join her in a kneeling position. In a matter of seconds, everyone else in the room is off their chairs, heads bowed.
“Please forgive us.” Eva slowly looks up, tear lines streaming from the corners of both eyes. “We thought you were from MX Global. We didn’t know you were him.”
CHAPTER 21
“Do you really have a fairy godmother?”
“You’ll see,” Yarah says.
Leo stands next to Yarah. The warm grass is soft between his toes. Stars blaze overhead. A cool breeze blows up from the river, bringing with it the smell of moss and cattails. Frogs and cicadas sing together in a gentle chorus that rises and falls in waves.
“Ready?” Yarah looks up. Her finger points at a bright star. “That’s where she lives. She told me.”
Looking at Yarah, Leo smiles to himself. Yarah has a great imagination. He’s seen her spend hours running through the castle talking to herself, at home in the world of her mind. It would make sense that Yarah’s fairy godmother is only in her head.
Or something that Yarah herself created, like the dragon.
“All right.” Leo tries to put enthusiasm in his voice. “Let’s do it. I can’t wait to see her.”
Yarah jumps on her toes. “Me too.” She sits on the grass, pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around her legs. “I’m going to call her now.” Her eyes close, long lashes curling out, face turning up to the sky with a look of fierce concentration.
Leo sits next to Yarah and starts counting in his head to pass the time. After getting to thirty, he lies on the grass, hands behind his head, and stares up at the bright points piercing the blackness above. Listening to the sound of frogs and insects, Leo’s eyes are heavy and begin to drop.
“Yarah.”
Leo’s eyes shoot open at the sound of the voice. He hears it again, behind him.
“I’m here, Yarah.”
Leo jumps to his feet and turns.
A woman stands above them on the hill, a kind expression on her face. She wears a long yellow dress festooned with sparkling rubies and sapphires. A string of enormous diamonds held together by two thin rings of gold adorns her head. A red jewel encased in silver hangs on her forehead.
But what really catches Leo’s eye is the string of Stones hanging from an elegant gold chain on the woman’s waist.
Yarah was right. A real fairy godmother, just like in the story books.
“You brought someone with you tonight.” The fairy godmother walks down the hill to Leo. “And who is this nice young man?”
Yarah runs to the woman. “This is my friend, Leo. I’ve told you about him before. He’s good at using his Stone to heal people.” She looks up and throws her arms around the woman’s waist. “He wants to be able to create a world like me. Can you help him?” Yarah turns and walks to Leo’s side.
“I see. He has a Stone and wants to have his own world.” The woman moves closer to Leo and lets her head drop, acknowledging him. “Is that right?”
His mouth still open, Leo stares at her. “Are you real?” He stutters. “I mean, did Yarah create you out of her imagination, or are you a real person?”
“If Yarah had created me, I would still be real.” The woman laughs, showing off perfect white teeth. “But no, I am not one of her creations. I was here long before either of you.”
“So many Stones.” Leo’s eyes drop to the loose belt on her waist. “Where did you get them all?”
“The same way you got yours.” She moves forward and extends her hand. “They just came to me.”
Leo’s hand automatically goes out and touches hers. It’s warm and soft.
“Good to meet you,” she says. “My name is Jhata.”
CHAPTER 22
“How did it go?” Jerek walks into Ryzaard’s office.
“Nearly flawless.” Ry
zaard turns away from the window and smiles, opening his tweed jacket and showing off four Stones. “You’re a genius.” He motions for Jerek to sit on the red couch as he walks to the window to stare out at the Brooklyn Bridge.
Jerek holds a clear blue slate in his hand. “Any suggestions for improving it? I’m already working on a miniature version.”
“Good.” Ryzaard picks up the small statue of Zeus on his desk and slowly strolls back and forth in front of the window as he admires its ancient features. “Sergi was easy to kill, almost too easy. But he was also the laziest one of the bunch, too lazy to have mastered the higher powers of his Stone. The others won’t be like him. We need to make the device more agile.”
Jerek nods. “Right. So you can use it in a fight. A real weapon.” His eyes dart back and forth in the air above his head as they always do when he is in deep-thinking mode.
“Yes, exactly. Perhaps we could tweak the shape so it’s—”
“Round?”
“You read my mind,” Ryzaard says. “So it can be rolled on the ground.”
Jerek’s fingers fly over the slate as he creates a new design on the spot. “Or thrown. And it should be able to stick to any surface.”
Ryzaard’s head bobs up and down with satisfaction as he walks in front of the window, tossing the Zeus statue between his hands.
“I think I’ve got it.” Jerek stands up from the couch and moves past Ryzaard’s desk to the door. “I’ll have a prototype for you in a few days.”
“I need it in a few hours. By tonight.”
Jerek pauses at the door and looks back. “Tonight?”
“9:00 PM, to be exact.” Ryzaard stops. “Can you do it?”
Looking at his jax, Jerek shakes his head. “Six and a half hours? I don’t see how—”
“You can do it.” Ryzaard turns his back to the door, picks up his jax and calls Alexa.
Jerek sprints through the hallway to his lab.
Five minutes later, Alexa is standing in Ryzaard’s office, lifting a champagne glass to her lips. “Why Egypt?” She sips from her glass and rests her head on the back of the couch.
“Because my instincts tell me that Dr. Hasina Kamel is the most powerful and experienced of the Holders.” Ryzaard sits in his high-back chair with his feet up on the desk.
