The Art of Saving the World

by Corinne Duyvis

  Rainbow extended her hand to help me up. It felt silly, but I took it. I was shaking enough that, without help, I’d probably have fallen flat on my ass.

  “So what is it?” Red placed the cutting board on the table. “And how’d it get inside?”

  “Inside the apartment? Or inside the cabinet?” Four said. When we turned to her, her cheeks went pink-red. “I mean . . . I slept right here on the couch, and I didn’t hear anything.”

  “The creature wasn’t in that cabinet last night.” I held on to the table, doubting my shaky legs could carry me. “I remember looking. Nothing but the Blu-rays.”

  Four crossed the room, hunching by the cabinet. “It’s intact. The creature didn’t break in from the back panel or anything.”

  Red frowned. “So at some point between last night and now, that thing got inside, crossed the living room, and locked itself in the Blu-ray cabinet. Without any of us noticing. Not even Casper.”

  “That’s . . . a scary thought,” I said.

  Four looked at the couch, still covered in blankets, and nodded.

  Rainbow planted a hand on her hip. “There could be other creatures inside. I’d thought we’d be safe from rift crap up on the ninth floor, but if it’s spread this far . . .”

  “I’m calling Neven,” I decided.

  I crossed the living room in a more or less stable manner and stepped onto the balcony, breathing in the cool morning air.

  The fierce wind blew the lace curtains into the apartment—I quickly closed the doors behind me—and sliced right through my borrowed clothes. The cold felt nice on my skin, still overheated from the fight with the creature. I craned my head back, looking at the wide-open sky, trying to calm my heart. We weren’t on the top floor, but the floors above had no balconies to block my view. No tall buildings in the neighborhood, no trees reaching this high. Not even any choppers nearby, unlike before.

  I stepped up to the railing, hoping Neven’s hearing was good enough to hear me yell from wherever she was.

  I paused. Squinted at the ground below.

  Two black vans sat outside the building. Several agents—their suits and stance were unmistakable—buzzed about the entrance. A handful entered the building, while others went around back, disappearing from my sight.

  Not everyone wore suits. One person was leaning against the van, arms crossed. I couldn’t see her face from up here, but I recognized her nonetheless. I knew that tense pose, the same way I knew that olive-green coat.

  The MGA was here.

  And they’d brought Mom.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I backed away from the balcony railing before anyone could spot me. Maybe the MGA had figured out I was here; maybe they were combing the building as a precaution. If it was the latter, I didn’t want to help them out by yelling for Neven at the top of my lungs.

  (Mom would know about Dad getting hurt. Guilt twinged in my chest. Why was she here?)

  I headed back through the doors. “The MGA is outside,” I said, sounding steady. “If I call Neven, they’ll hear me. I think they’re covering the exits and coming up.”

  The other Hazels looked up, startled. “How did they find us?” Red asked.

  “How do we get out?” Rainbow added.

  I had an idea, but it might not work. I didn’t know the building like the others did—

  “We could hide in another apartment,” Red suggested. “Wait them out.”

  —and apparently, Red had the same thought. Maybe Rainbow and Four, too. I should’ve just said it.

  Red went on. “If people evacuated in a hurry, maybe someone left their door open.”

  “Yeah,” Rainbow said, nodding at the dirt remains near the coffee table, “but what if—Did that just move?”

  As one, our heads snapped to look—even Casper, who’d been licking his wounds under the kitchen table.

  For a moment, nothing happened. The dirt still lay scattered on the floor in a lumpy pile. A clawed finger was the sole recognizable part.

  The finger twitched.

  A shudder went through the pile. The dirt stretched into the same crooked mouth I’d seen on the creature. Grains of sand drew together and hardened into serrated teeth.

  The finger stretched toward me. The heap grew taller, as though a shape buried underneath was climbing to its feet and shaking off the earth—except the shape was that earth. Clumps slotted into place, dirt rolling upward across its arched back. The creature’s head was bent. Its mouth stretched along the full width.

  It stepped forward, dragging an oversized foot free from the dirt.

  “We gotta—before it—” Red was saying.

  Rainbow dashed forward. With a yell, she slashed at the creature with her bread knife. A diagonal cut sliced across its face. Even as it stumbled back, its skin shifted. A moment later, the crack filled up and the cut was gone.

  “They heal?” Rainbow said. “They freaking heal?”

  “We have to get out of here.” Four’s voice sounded high.

  “Grab our stuff,” Rainbow said grimly. “I’ll keep it busy. Then we run like hell.”

  Four bolted across the living room. Red seemed to hesitate. “I can help—”

  “Go!” Rainbow yelled. The creature hooked its claws into her jeans, clambering up like it’d tried to do to me.

  Red grabbed her cutting board from before and ran to help.

  It felt cowardly to leave them, but if I could take down the creature by myself, the two of them would manage.

  I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the weapons the others had left on the table. They’d apparently found a claw hammer while I was on the balcony. On the floor lay a cloth shopping bag, covered in cat hair. I took it, tossing in the weapons.

  “It’s clear.” Four exited the bathroom. She must’ve seen my confusion because she added, “There’s no—no other dirt creatures in the bathroom. We can lock Casper inside to keep him safe. I just don’t know how long it’ll be before someone comes to help him. Maybe those agents?”

  “My mom”—our mom, I thought uncomfortably—“is with them. She’ll take care of him.”

  Four blew out a sigh of relief. “Oh, and earlier, Red had an idea about calling Neven. This morning we found a box of cat toys with a whistle inside, one of those dog whistles too high for us to hear. Red said her aunt Lina tried to teach Casper tricks once and—” Four’s face twisted, like she was trying to shut herself up or regretted talking at all. “Maybe Neven will hear and come help.”

  “It’s dead,” a voice behind me said. I turned. Rainbow stood there, panting. “For now, at least.”

  Even with a bigger knife and bigger numbers, they’d taken longer to take down the creature than me. If that thing got tougher every time it re-formed, we were in trouble.

  “I’ll get the whistle.” Four disappeared into the bedroom.

  Within moments, we’d gotten everything we needed. Four had clothes and the whistle. I had the weapons. Rainbow had grabbed food and water. Red had gotten Casper to safety (despite loud protests) and tossed us each a coat from Lina’s coatrack. She stuck two sets of gloves in a backpack she’d found to fit our things.

  We gathered by the door as Four did a last whirlwind check of the living room. “I see Neven!” she said. “Must’ve heard the whistle. She’s not close yet, but—” A yelp. Stamping noises. “It’s moving again!”

  We didn’t need to ask what she meant by “it.”

  “Scoop it up,” I said. “The dirt, I mean. We can put it in the hallway outside.”

  “It’ll slow down the agents,” Rainbow added, so quickly she must’ve had the same thought.

  Red’s eyes lit up. “And we can wait for Neven!” She paused. “The creature could hurt the agents.”

  “If we can beat it, they definitely can,” I said. “They’re armed. And they’ve probably seen a lot worse stuff than this.” What Red and I found in those cells in the barn probably wasn’t even the half of it.

  Using food container
s and a paper bin, we scooped up the dirt-thing in separate mounds. Rainbow and Red ran to the front door. The containers in their hands jerked from the movement inside, the creature struggling to re-form.

  “This is weird this is weird this is weird,” Red whispered as she ran.

  They yanked open the front door, tossed the containers into the hall outside, and slammed it shut again.

  “It was even trying to re-form as it was falling.” Rainbow sounded simultaneously grossed out and fascinated.

  “C’mon,” Red said. She had the balcony doors open, our two bags already outside.

  I tried not to think of Mom, leaning against a van nine floors below us. I could be downstairs in minutes, explain what’d happened, let her tell me everything would be fine, let her wrap me in a big hug . . .

  If she was even still there. Maybe she’d gone inside along with the agents—and would end up in the hall.

  With the creature.

  Oh, crap. I had to make sure she was still safe. I should—

  Two loud bangs.

  Four pulled the doors shut behind us. “Were those gunshots?”

  Another bang from inside.

  “Yeah,” I said, my voice dry. The agents must’ve found our houseguest.

  “Down here,” Red whispered. We stepped away from the glass doors and crouched against the outside wall of the building. After several moments of silence came the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. And voices. Agitated ones.

  I tilted my head toward the doors, straining to hear.

  “Hazel?” a woman called. Agent Sanghani. “If you’re here, can we talk?”

  We stayed quiet and hunched.

  (I wanted to run inside and scream, Yes, yes please, I can’t do this by myself, I need your help, I need—Mom—)

  “Nothing in those rooms,” a male voice said. “I think the girls were here, though. Let’s check the bathr—Christ!” A door slammed shut. Footsteps.

  “It’s called a cat,” Sanghani said dryly.

  “Real funny. I almost shot it. Those troll pricks have me all nervous. How did one get to the ninth floor? It can’t squirm under the door, right?”

  “You’re the one who’s been dealing with them for the past two days, not me. Call containment. And ask the mom what to do with that cat.”

  By my side, Rainbow mouthed, Troll?

  Two days? I wondered to myself.

  “Living room and kitchen are empty,” Sanghani said. “Let’s check . . .” Her voice became too faint to understand.

  Moments later, I heard the familiar thwap thwap thwap of leathery wings. Neven came from below, flying almost vertical to the building, and shot past the balcony. Wind rushed past our faces. She turned nimbly in midair and landed. The balcony was so narrow she barely fit; the only way she managed was by stretching her legs out so the bulk of her body reached above the balcony railing.

  Yells came from inside.

  “A whistle?” Neven said flatly. “Really.”

  “We couldn’t—” I started.

  “Later. Get on. Their choppers can’t be far.” As we scrambled onto her back, her tail aiding us, she glared at the agents inside the apartment. They weren’t shooting. They might have been stunned, or just waiting for instructions.

  I clutched Neven’s scaly neck, ready for an abrupt takeoff. A strange sound caught my attention, like a rush of air.

  Four climbed onto Neven’s back last. She probably heard the same sound, because we looked up simultaneously.

  And saw a net dropping from above.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  It was heavy, and it hurt.

  The net knocked the air from my chest and pinned me to Neven’s neck. Several rapid thuds sounded nearby, like metal hitting stone.

  I screamed. My backpack pressed painfully into my spine. I twisted my head (hairs snagged in the net—ow) to see behind me. Neven’s wings were trapped under the net.

  So were the others, squirming against Neven and each other.

  There hadn’t been any choppers overhead. The net must’ve been dropped from the rooftop. They’d set a damn trap.

  Black lumps the size of my fist—the thuds I’d heard—lay scattered on the balcony floor and hung over the balcony railing. They pulled the net down on us tight. Neven was pushing against the material with one front paw, but it didn’t give. The weights didn’t even shift.

  “Those industrious little humans,” Neven growled. “The rift sent them some useful materials over the years, apparently.”

  More agents had arrived. From my position, I could just about see their legs through the balcony door glass.

  I let out a cry of frustration. How many of those agents knew me? I’d trusted these people, I’d lived with them, and—

  And I was the one who had gotten us in this position. I was the one who’d insisted on running.

  “Who has the weapons?” I ground out. Maybe we could cut through the net.

  “Me,” Rainbow said. “But I can’t reach.”

  “Maybe I can.” Red’s voice sounded frail. “Let me try . . .”

  I wormed a hand past Neven’s side, toward the knife in my back pocket. If Neven’s claws couldn’t cut through the net, I doubted my weird little canoe knife would make a difference. But I still had to try.

  I wiggled the knife free and slid off the sheath. Wasn’t easy. Neven was still clawing at the net, a threatening rumble in her throat. Her every movement sent the cords scraping past the skin of my hand.

  The balcony doors clicked open.

  A set of feet stopped just short of the doorframe.

  “Hazel,” the person said.

  Director Facet.

  I squirmed to look at him. The net pressed painfully into my cheek and shoved my glasses half off my face. Through one of the lenses, I managed an upside-down, slanted view of Facet. Same bright blue glasses as usual. Same long, skinny face. Same hair, except it looked more frazzled than I’d ever seen it.

  He had bags under his eyes. Like he hadn’t slept at all.

  Facet looked right at me. “Hazel. I’m sorry this had to happen. We had to capture that thing before anyone else got hurt. And we had to find you. The past day has been . . .” He pressed his lips together, as though searching for the words. “None of us knew this was coming,” he said. “Let’s get you out and talk.”

  He sounded like he meant it. He looked like he meant it. He always did; I always believed it. I wanted to believe it, even now.

  But I had to ask: “Days?” My jaw barely had room to move.

  Facet had already turned away, presumably to arrange my release, but paused. “Come again? Is that . . . Are you holding a knife? Hazel, this isn’t you.”

  “Not day. Days.” I struggled to understand my own words. I fixed my eyes on his, trying to look fierce rather than pathetic. “Past. Two. Days. Even before my birthday. There were trolls?”

  He looked torn. “It’s complicated. We’ll talk about it. Your mother is waiting in the hall. She’s worried.”

  “My dad?” I squeezed out.

  “He’ll stay at the hospital a few days, but he’ll be good as new. We can visit him, if you want. And, hey, you can have your phone back. We found it by the road.” He smiled crookedly. “Look, I hate seeing you like this. We’ll get this net off you. We’ll sedate the animal—”

  “The dragon,” Neven said. “Who has a name. And like hell you are.”

  An unfamiliar agent stopped beside Facet. She carried a long gun by her side.

  “I really wish it’d let us know it could talk.” Facet frowned at Neven.

  “She,” I said.

  The agent aimed the gun at Neven’s hind leg, where there was no risk of hitting any of us.

  Facet stepped back.

  Neven’s legs shook. I couldn’t imagine how much effort it took to keep standing despite the weight of the net. She growled once, threateningly. The agent stumbled back, but instantly corrected her stance.

  She aimed. Fired.r />
  Neven swung out of the way. The dart missed her by an inch. The movement pressed her farther into the railing.

  It cracked under her weight. Neven’s claws scrabbled at the balcony floor.

  Then at the air.

  And then we were falling.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Facet’s panicked voice—“Hazel!”

  Rushing air.

  Neven, roaring.

  The others, screaming.

  Me, screaming.

  But—

  Neven caught herself. Barely.

  One paw clung around the rungs of the ripped-free balcony railing. Her clawed toes stuck through the holes of the net. It had to be cutting into her skin.

  The railing creaked. It was only barely attached to the balcony. It’d snap off all the way within seconds.

  I clung to Neven’s neck. I was going to die. I’d die with Mom waiting for me in that hallway, so, so close. The last time I saw her had been on the lawn. When we’d taken off into the air and she’d watched us from below. Mouth agape. Growing smaller.

  Above us, Facet was yelling orders. “Get me helicopters! Get a metal cutter for the net! Hold on to that railing, don’t you dare let it fall—Hazel! Hazel, talk to me!”

  “Given the laws of physics,” Neven ground out, “I am too heavy for this shit. Even if the railing lasts, I won’t.” She trembled. Her single paw could never hold our combined weight.

  “The weights!” Red yelled. “Get the weights loose!”

  None of the weights were near me. Panicky tears ran down my cheeks. I hacked at the net itself, hoping against hope I could at least weaken it—

  The knife cut right through. The net snapped open like twine, my arm suddenly free. I didn’t know how. I didn’t need to. I didn’t think, I just slashed and slashed and the net fell apart, but I couldn’t make a hole big enough for Neven, couldn’t do this on time—

  “We tried,” Neven said.

  Her voice was tight.

  The railing came loose.

  Neven twisted in midair. She strained against the net, pulling at the edge of the hole I’d made—Yes! It was finally weak enough to tear, further and further—Then we were out, we were free, and we were spinning, and Neven was flapping her wings with all her might, and maybe we could—