The Missing

by Garth Nix

  Someone shushed him.

  “In a moment we will begin,” Aleksandr continued. “Your cell leaders have their instructions. You know what to do. I wish only to acknowledge the part you will play in this great endeavor, and to say that you have my undying gratitude and admiration. Do not flag, and do not doubt. Everything we do today is for the good of all.”

  He waved one arm high above his head and stepped down.

  “I’m your cell leader,” Hector told Jaide and Stefano. “It’s very simple, really. All we have to do is draw the energy out of the storm and into the lodestone. Take my hands. It’s starting.”

  Around them, Wardens lined up behind their cell leaders, linking hands in chains and beginning to concentrate. Jaide could feel a tension growing in the air, like someone was stretching the world out and pressing it flat under a hot iron. Her father’s hand was very dry, and it gripped hers tightly. Her Gifts shivered inside her with something like excitement. Neither she nor they had ever been in the presence of so much power.

  A surge traveled along one chain of Wardens three away from where Jaide was standing. She didn’t see all of it, just the aftermath, in which the cell leader flashed white and turned into an X-ray image of himself. She could clearly see his bones and teeth, and he twitched all over as though electrocuted. Then, with a piercing crack, lightning struck the tent’s central pole. Energy flowed into the lodestone, the cell leader returned to normal, and the build-up resumed.

  “Just like that,” said Hector. “Follow my lead.”

  Jaide concentrated. She could feel her father’s Gift linking with hers through their hands. An echo of Stefano’s came to her, too. Hector’s was stronger and more disciplined than both of theirs combined. It was like a rope, already staunch and safe, made stronger by the two new strands they provided. A lasso, she thought, reaching out to tame the lightning.

  Three more bolts hit the pole in quick succession. Jaide barely heard them. She was concentrating on her Gift and marveling at what it could do. The storm looked huge and monolithic from below, but up close it was a wild mess of eddies and sudden surges. How were they supposed to tame that? Jaide had no idea, but Hector knew. Through him she saw techniques and tricks she might never have devised on her own. Threads of electricity were drawn in and woven together. Potential began to build.

  Her hair stood on end. The soles of her feet left the ground. She felt as though she was breathing in, and in, and in, until she was full of the energy of life itself. Just as she began to wonder if it was too much, it suddenly rushed out of her, into her father, who turned into a horrifying X-ray version of himself, jerked all over — and lightning struck the pole, brought down to earth by the three of them alone.

  She dropped back to earth, feeling a mixture of elation and exhaustion.

  “Again,” said Hector.

  And so they did it again.

  Jaide soon lost track of time. Each bolt seemed to take an hour, but she knew it couldn’t be that long. The air inside the tent was immensely hot, but at the same time bone-dry, like the inside of an oven. Wardens offering water in pitchers came by periodically, provoking the occasional wild spark. Twice, older Wardens were carried off to recover, their strength depleted. Jaide became so used to people becoming skeletons that she didn’t even blink when it happened. Her ears were numb from the relentless booming of thunder.

  In the center of the tent, the lodestone started to glow a dull cherry red.

  It couldn’t be much longer now.

  “I want to go,” she whispered to Hector. “I want to be with Grandma when it happens.”

  He didn’t have any words. When he opened his mouth, only sparks came out, so he simply let go of her hand. Jaide stepped back, feeling every rigid muscle in her legs complain. Stefano opened his eyes, panting with exhaustion, and nodded.

  Jaide slipped out of the circle of straining lightning wielders and headed for the exit. Her legs and knees felt like they were held together with pipe cleaners. It was all she could do to walk in a straight line, which explained how she completely failed to see Aleksandr coming.

  “Leaving so soon, young Shield?”

  “Uh, yes … but not because I want to.” It took as much effort to lie as it did to stand without falling. “My Gifts … too close to Dad, it turns out. I did what I could. Do you mind …?”

  “Not at all. Come back in an hour or so to witness the big push. We’ll be ready by then.” His gaze slid off her, back to the glowing lodestone. He brushed his beard and breathed, “Historic …”

  Jaide bolted for the exit, not caring if she wobbled, just as long as she got away before anyone else decided to talk to her. The spaces around the central chamber were thankfully empty, and although it took her three tries to find the exit, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the light outside again.

  Only there wasn’t much light. What little there was had been filtered through the heavy sheets of rain that were now lashing Portland. Occasional flashes from the lightning streaming into the tent pole only confused things. Jaide stood on the threshold for a moment, considering her options. She could try calling someone to get a lift, but Grandma X would be busy and Susan had her own tasks to perform. Jaide wasn’t sure she wanted her mother looking over her shoulder as they tried to rescue Jack, Tara, and Kyle. It wasn’t as if she could do anything, and if things went wrong …

  Scrunching up her face and tucking her elbows in close to her side, Jaide decided to make a run for it.

  Within three paces, she was soaked to the skin. Water streamed down her face, getting into her eyes no matter how furiously she blinked. It was so dark the streetlights had come on, even though it was still morning. The tiny pools of illumination they cast looked relatively warm but were no less cold than everywhere else. Jaide groaned unhappily as she ran up Dock Road. By the time she reached the Parkhill Street intersection, her teeth were chattering.

  Before she turned, she glanced behind her and saw a wondrous sight. Bolt after bolt of lightning was striking the top of the tent. The thunder was almost continuous now, and the tent was lit up from within by a bright orange glow. The alternating lightning-blue and orange flashing was almost hypnotic, and she stared at it an instant too long. The toes of her right foot caught the curb and her left foot landed in a slippery puddle. Both legs went in different directions and she came down hard on her backside, crying out in pain and surprise.

  Instead of feeling sorry for herself, she told herself to get up and keep going. There were worse things than being covered in mud.

  An open hand came down at her from the torrential rain, offering her help. She was startled, but took it with gratitude. The woman — that was all Jaide could make out through the rain at first — leaned back and pulled her upright. Jaide longed for the raincoat the woman was wearing. It was long and dark, with a hood.

  “That was quite a fall! Are you all right?”

  Jaide brushed wet hair from her eyes, and nodded. The woman looked familiar but Jaide couldn’t immediately place her.

  “Thanks. I’m all right.”

  “Are you sure? You should come inside and let me check you over.”

  “I’m okay, honest.”

  “It’s no trouble. I’m a doctor.”

  Jaide went so cold she was surprised the water soaking her clothes didn’t turn instantly to ice. That was where she knew the woman from. She was Dr. Witworth, the Evil minion Jaide had seen entering Portland earlier.

  “I have to go,” Jaide said.

  A strong hand gripped her elbow before she could take a step.

  “Don’t be foolish, Jaide Shield. The safest place in this storm is with me.”

  “Yeah, right. I know who you are, and I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  Dr. Witworth’s eyes narrowed and her fingers dug deeply into Jaide’s flesh. She had abandoned all pretense now. Her eyes were fully human, but she didn’t need to be possessed to be Evil.

  “No one can stand up to The Evil’s full p
ower on her own. You are arrogant to think you can, or perhaps you’re simply stupid. It’ll give me great pleasure to see you destroyed like everyone else when the storm strikes.”

  “You can’t fool me,” Jaide said, stung by the accusation that she was stupid. “The storm has nothing to do with The Evil. It’s —”

  She stopped, kicking herself.

  “It’s what?” asked Dr. Witworth, pulling Jaide close.

  “It’s … nothing,” Jaide said. Maybe she was stupid for almost blurting out everything about Project Thunderclap. “It’s just freaky weather, that’s all.”

  “There is no all when this many Wardens gather.” Dr. Witworth’s expression was nasty. “You may have the old fool back, but now I have you. You’ll either tell us everything or we’ll use you as leverage. The Great Steward wouldn’t abandon one of his own, would he? Your lot is so predictably sentimental. That’s why you’re going to lose.”

  Wanna bet? Jaide almost said, but this time she kept the voice in her head still. “I told you once,” she said instead, “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  Her first Gift came to life at her calling, surrounding Dr. Witworth in a rushing cylinder of air. The woman felt herself being tugged away, but instead of screaming and giving up as Jaide had hoped, she lunged for Jaide and took her into a viselike embrace. Jaide was pulled into the miniature hurricane with her and sent skidding across the sidewalk in a storm of wind and water.

  “Let go of me!” Jaide kicked and wriggled, but Dr. Witworth had her arms tightly pinned.

  “Call it off!” the woman ordered, her face just millimeters from Jaide’s. There was fear in her eyes, a fear that drove her anger. “Call it off, you little witch!”

  Jaide was so startled to be called something like that she almost did exactly as she was told. Was that what ordinary people would think of her, if they knew what she could do? Why not, since that was exactly what she had thought Grandma X was, before learning the truth? Perhaps that was why some people fell in with The Evil — because they thought the Wardens were the Evil ones, witches and warlocks in league with the Devil.

  That so obviously wasn’t the way it was, but the thought threw her off, regardless. Her concentration faltered, and the whirlwind eased accordingly. Dr. Witworth found her footing first and managed to get one arm around Jaide’s throat.

  “Now, walk,” she hissed in Jaide’s ear. “And no more funny business.”

  Light flared in front of them. Something growled, deeper and louder than a saber-toothed tiger. Then it roared, and the light rushed toward them. Dr. Witworth froze like a rabbit caught in headlights, and Jaide took her chance. She pushed as hard as she could and burst free of the arm around her throat. Then she leaped out of the way as a car as large as a small house ran over the very spot where she had been standing.

  Brakes squealed. A door opened.

  “Get in!” cried Rodeo Dave. “This is no night to be out walking on your own!”

  Jaide didn’t need to be told twice. She clambered onto the car’s enormous back seat, leaving a trail of water behind. She was breathing hard and her hands were shaking.

  “Where did she go? Did you hit her?”

  “No.” Rennie was in the passenger seat, peering out the window. “She seemed to take off like a rocket when you pushed her away.”

  “Oh.” Jaide remembered her Gift. Who knew what it had done with the woman? She didn’t have the stomach to wonder. “How did you know I needed you?”

  “We didn’t,” admitted Rodeo Dave. “We were strongly advised by Officer Haigh to get out of town. She said she wasn’t leaving the porch until we did, so we got in the car and drove around the block, hoping she’d be gone when we got back. That was when we saw you.”

  Rennie smiled and held out her hands. Jaide took them. Of course the Living Ward was never going to leave Portland, on this night or any other. And Rodeo Dave might have lost his memory of being a Warden, but that didn’t mean he’d lost his instincts. He’d be there for Portland if it needed him.

  “Where has Haigh got to?” he said, peering through the window at the front of his shop. “Why isn’t she chasing kidnappers and looters instead of kicking honest folk out into the storm?”

  His mustache bristled and his nose turned a deep shade of purple. He looked like he had a lot more to say on that subject, but then he remembered Jaide in the backseat and visibly calmed down.

  “Let’s get you home,” he said. “Then we’ll see about all that.”

  “Good idea, Dave,” said Rennie. “And then perhaps you can drop me at Mermaid Point. I know someone who will be able to help keep Portland safe.”

  Something was stirring. Jack could feel it. He was sitting on the deck of the ship, concentrating exactly as Lottie had told him to, while the others were in the cabin, supposedly searching through the remains of the Compendium and trying to get the Oracular Crocodile to say something useful without eating anyone’s finger. In truth, they were mainly arguing. Their angry words washed over him, distracting him and making him tense.

  “You can tell just by looking at this world that The Evil has sucked it dry,” Lottie said. “I was the only thing bigger than a bug left until you arrived. That’s why it was so desperate to draw you in. The Evil is starving.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Kyle asked. “It tried to eat me. Let it starve, I say!”

  “And I say that it is a unique creature on the edge of extinction. It would be wrong to kill it out of hand. How do we know that it can’t learn to change? Has anyone asked it?”

  “Have you?” asked Tara.

  “No,” Lottie conceded with a sigh. “It tried to eat me, too. Many times.”

  It was all theoretical, Jack thought. No one was trying to kill The Evil, were they? They just wanted to cut it off from Earth, so no more people would die. Human people, anyway …

  He tried not to think about that part. The meditation was difficult enough as it was, without his conscience niggling at him. What if The Evil only wanted to come to Earth because there was nowhere else left to go? What if the success of Aleksandr’s plan meant that it would starve to death? Was that the murder of an intelligent being or the cold hard cost of survival?

  Concentrate!

  The Evil, Lottie had told him, exploited cracks in reality to cross between worlds. It couldn’t make its own cracks, the way Wardens did, but it could collect them and hold on to them, creating a kind of Grand Central Station leading to all the worlds it had taken over. She called it the Inward Facing Mandala, which Jack didn’t really understand. It was something Buddhist, she said. All that mattered was finding its location. Finding it, and then getting to it. And then getting home, if they beat Project Thunderclap to the punch.

  At any moment he expected the sky to light up with lightning. If that happened, all possibility of escape would slip away. He didn’t know what time it was back home, but he suspected they didn’t have much left.

  That feeling was reinforced by strange rumblings and murmurs in the bedrock of the realm of The Evil, conveyed to him via his secondary Gift, which he was using to seek the way out of the world. He could sense life through the ground, so why couldn’t he sense life through cracks as well? That was Lottie’s argument. The world was full of life, so it should be clearly visible via his Gift, if he looked in the right direction. But it was confusing. There was so much rock in the world beneath him, and it cast reflections and mirages that led him in circles or down dead ends. He could feel the opening he was looking for, just out of reach, but every time he thought he was getting close it slipped away from him.

  “Nom nom nom nom,” said the Oracular Crocodile, followed by a sharp yelp from Kyle.

  Jack closed his eyes more tightly than ever. His friends were doing everything they could. He should do the same. The Mandala had to be somewhere!

  It was no use. The world’s bedrock didn’t show any holes or tunnels leading anywhere.

  Jack felt a movement at his side. It was
Tara, squatting down next to him. There was a sheet of paper in her hand, possibly one from the Compendium. On it was a mess of diagrams and sketches of things so strange it hurt Jack’s eyes just to glance at them.

  “Some of your Warden friends were crazy,” she said. “I mean really crazy. This guy lived in a barrel and never cut his hair, ever. They found him smothered one day when they came to bring him his breakfast, his hair had grown so long. Anyway, Lottie says his Gift was seeing things far away. He drew the first maps of Antarctica, hundreds of years before it was discovered. And he drew maps of a place that doesn’t seem to exist. I think it’s this place, where The Evil lives.”

  “Cool,” Jack said, although the business about the barrel certainly wasn’t. “Did he say where the Mandala was?”

  She held up the paper and pointed at a place where dozens of lines converged.

  “Look for a mountain,” she said. “That’s the best we’ve got.”

  He nodded and squinted at the picture.

  “What’s that he drew coiled around the mountain? A snake?”

  “We don’t know, and neither did the crocodile skull. I guess we’ll have to find that out the hard way.”

  Jack took a deep breath. “Thanks, I think. It didn’t occur to me to look anywhere high.”

  He closed his eyes again and forced his mind to settle. The ground was even more restless now than it had been before, as though something was worrying it. Huge echoes rolled back and forth like ripples on a giant pond, but instead of water it was the stone moving. It made him feel like he was moving, too, rocking up and down on a sluggish sea. He tried to put it out of his mind in case he started to feel seasick. He wasn’t very good with boats.

  Across the surface of the world his mind went, seeking the source of the vibrations. They did seem to be converging on one spot, and it was indeed a mountain, conical like a volcano, but old and cold and riddled with empty chambers where lava had once flowed. Jack explored those chambers with his mind, and found spaces he couldn’t comprehend, including passages that were infinite and holes that looped back on themselves. None of those were helpful, but he kept looking, hoping against hope that he’d find a flicker of life.