Jason turned, taking a long sweep at the beast facing him. Foam whipped from its jaws as it spun about, tracking him. His beam landed, the impulse rocking into his arm and shoulder, but the wolfjackal barely faltered. He jabbed and sliced again, his crystal sharp against the palm of his hand as he held it tightly. Jason could feel his power, holding the creature back but not really harming or driving it away. Eventually he'd weaken, and the wolfjackal would lunge through Bailey's shield. His pack mate yelped as Trent clipped it on the head, and the beast went rolling. It scrabbled for purchase on the slick, dark pavement as it did, amid the squeal of tires from outside the loading dock, and Jason got an idea.
“Drive 'em out of here and stay clear!” he said.
Trent and Henry surged forward, swinging their wooden slats and quickly fell back behind Bailey as the wolfjackal snapped, and Henry's wooden sword splintered in its jaws. The second one drove in, grabbing Trent and shaking him like a doll and not letting go till Trent beat it on the head with his jagged wooden board. He staggered back, into Henry and Bailey, with a curse, sweatshirt ripping as the beast let go. “They ain't budging.”
“Try another plan,” panted Henry.
Jason had one. But he wasn't at all sure it would work.
“Hold 'em here, then!” he cried out, and took a running start. He catapulted over the shoulders of the nearest beast, barely clearing it, and hit the ground in a dash. Both critters whirled with howls and scrambled after him. He knew they would, of course. Well, not knew, but hoped!
“Jason!” cried Bailey sharply in warning, and he swerved. A heavy body lunged just past him, and he could practically feel its foaming jaws as it did. It smelled of hot beast and something fearful he couldn't identify, something no natural creature smelled of. He swerved again, sharply, dodging into the parking lot.
They all collided: joyriding teens, Jason, and raiding wolfjackals. The car's headlights blinded him for a moment, the squeal of brakes filling his ears as it skimmed past him, and the heavy thud as the vehicle hit a beast, sending its limp body rolling and rolling. Wild yipes suddenly went quiet. The second wolfjackal let out a mournful howl, took a leap over its pack mate's body, and disappeared into the night.
The car skidded to a halt. Jason bent over, hands on his knees, breathing hard. The crumpled, bloody form of the remaining wolfjackal wavered as if in a mirage. Then it disappeared from sight. The asphalt where it had lain showed not a trace of its existence. Dead, yes. Gone where? Back to its own element? Or had its sender called it back?
Car doors opened and four teens piled out.
“What was that!”
He looked up. “Man, you hit my dog!” Straightening, he pointed a hand into the night.
“Oh, man. How bad is he hurt?”
“He ran off.”
“Oh.”
“Can't be too bad if he ran off. Come on, let's go.” One of the passengers tucked at the sleeve of the stocky driver.
“What about my bumper?”
Jason stared angrily. “What about your bumper? Could have been
me
you hit! What are you doing driving out here like that, anyway?”
They sneered uncertainly. “Come on, let's get out of here.” Then, almost as one, they turned and piled back into their car.
As quickly as it had spit them out, the car swallowed up the four teens. Its engines revved and it squealed away into the darkness. The upper level of the mall went pitch-black as its lights faded away.
“That was close,” Trent said at his elbow.
“Yeah.”
“Guys? I've gotta get back . . . it's time for my mom to pick me up,” Henry said, abashed. He dropped his board and dusted his hands free of grime and splinters. Then he grinned. “And I'm even more afraid of my mom than whatever it is we just faced.”
Bailey giggled, in spite of herself. She cupped her crystal, and the glow faded. Jason's felt white-hot to his hand as he put it away, wincing. “We'd better hurry,” he suggested. “There's still one out there, maybe. Even one wolfjackal can do a lot of damage.”
They gathered themselves to hurry Henry back to his rendezvous point.
26
GAME PLAN
T
HEY grouped together under a faintly shining streetlight, its amber glow nearly obscured by the evening air and a foggy mist that threatened to grow stronger. After a few deep breaths and shaky laughs between them, Jason managed, “Everyone all right?”
“I'm fine, but I think my sweatshirt is totaled.”
Bailey tossed her head, cheeks apple rosy even in the dim glow of the streetlight, her golden-brown ponytail bobbing. “I'm great, but Lacey is buried in my pocket somewhere, shaking so hard she probably won't come out for two days.”
“Or till she's hungry.” Trent grinned at Bailey.
“Maybe a cookie.” She nodded. “How about you?” She watched Jason. “They were after all of us, but I'd say you were the target.”
“This thing is burning a hole in my pocket!” Jason pulled out his crystal, and it glowed in the night like a fallen star.
“Wow.” Bailey leaned close. “Ever do that before?”
“It's done some odd things, but nothing quite like this.”
She touched hers. “Mine is cold. Like a battery or something . . . it gets drained sometimes. Then it goes all icy.” She shivered as though she shared the chill with her crystal.
“That's exactly what it is, Bailey. A battery gone dead. You have to recharge.” Trent shrugged into his sweatshirt, and examined his sleeve for a moment, looking at the small, jagged tears. “That's about as close as I want to get to a wolfjackal for a long time.”
Jason frowned. “He didn't break skin, did he?” He rubbed the scar on the back of his left hand absently.
“Noooo.” Trent pushed his sleeve back, then shook his head emphatically. “A smack here and there, and Bailey's shield . . . I'm okay. Henry seemed to be, too, although we hustled him into his mom's car so quick it was hard to tell. A lot of good the alarm beacon did us.”
“But that proves it isn't working,” noted Bailey. “We've been wondering about that, and now we know. Unless that's some kind of response making your crystal glow, but I don't see what that helps and it never did that before, unless Gavan or someone is feeding you power to break the Curse.”
“Maybe.”
“I think we're out of range now.” Trent cast his gaze around. “We can't stand out here all night, it's getting late, and we've got to get back. Focus, and see what's up, if you can.”
Jason nodded absently, already cupping his crystal and beginning to look into its myriad depths. He rubbed his hands together, rolling his focus between his palms. He blinked, then looked up. “I don't know how . . .” he stopped in mid-sentence.
Bailey stomped her foot. “Stop that right now, Jason Adrian. How, what, when and where!”
“Someone's imprinted a message in my crystal.”
Trent glanced at Bailey. “You missed Who.”
“Oh, shush.” She stared at Jason. “I didn't know that could be done.”
Jason shook his head. “Me either. Hold on, let me see . . . I mean, I don't know how to retrieve it or anything. This is not an answering machine.” He cupped his hands, looking down into his focus.
“It is now,” returned Trent. He tried not to shiver as the cold, dark wind swirled around them, making it more than ever like a Halloween night. It wasn't, of course, but with wolfjackals and rogue Magickers after them, it might as well have been.
Bailey stood on one foot and then the other, hunched into her jacket. “Who is it?” she asked several times, getting no response from Jason as he concentrated heavily on the crystal he gripped.
“Bailey!” he finally snapped.
She looked at Trent, rolled her eyes, and fell silent after muttering, “That put frost on the old pumpkin.” She folded her arms over her chest and shut her mouth tightly.
Jason's lips were moving slightly as if that helped him see or concentrate on what he was revealing hidden inside the crystal, a message as slow to appear as snail tracks on a sidewalk. Tired from the long day, the chase, and the battle, Trent thought of napping while his friend worked through the message, then as quickly dismissed it.
Dark Hand,
he thought,
still trying to muddle my mind and reactions.
Then Jason gasped! “It's from Fizziwig!”
“It is? No kidding? The guy Gavan's been looking for?” Bailey gave a bounce.
“Who?” Trent stifled a yawn.
“Yes, but it looks like he's found me.” Jason frowned and gripped his crystal tightly. “He's the Magicker who's been missing, Trent. He's been on some sort of assignment for the Council and he went missing before camp even started.”
Trent whistled.
“He's sent this message and engraved it inside one of the quartz walls, but it disappears as soon as I read it. All but this last word.”
Bailey had uncrossed her arms. “Which is . . . ?”
Jason shook his head. “Can't say it until we're ready to go, because it'll bring us to him. It looks like some kind of hyperlink. It activates when I say it. He says he's found something of great importance to the Gatekeeper.”
Bailey rubbed her nose. “Didn't you tell me he knew something about Gates?”
Jason nodded to her.
“Then let's go!”
Jason hesitated again. “Bailey, there're some urgent questions here. Like, should we tell Gavan and the others about the attack first? But if we do, are they going to rein us in?”
“And,” added Trent, “how does this Fizziwig know about you? Since he hasn't been seen since last spring. If he's been missing, I would assume he's had no contact with anybody.”
Their gazes met. “True. That's a very good point, Trent.”
The other bowed.
Jason looked back into his hand and crystal reluctantly. “It could be a trap.”
“Something to think about anyway.”
“Let's think about what Fizziwig said.” Bailey peered at Jason. “What exactly did he say?”
“Desperate times mean desperate measures. I have found something of great importance for you, Gatekeeper. Speak and find me, elder Fizziwig.” Jason cleared his throat. “That's about it.”
“He has that flair. Victorian or something, like Eleanora. It could be a genuine message.” She considered Jason's words. Trent merely shrugged.
He looked at the two of them. “Are we going, then?”
“I'm about charged up.” Bailey rubbed her crystal pendant, hidden under the flap of her jacket.
Trent grinned. “I'm as charged as I'll ever be. And we've still got some time before our rides home.”
“All right, then.” Jason opened his hand and said,
“
Come!
” His figure wavered and started to thin, like mist.
“No!” Bailey grabbed for Trent's wrist. “Jason, no! We're not joined!”
Too late, as his body disappeared altogether into fog and the wind threatened to shred even that away. Bailey gripped her pendant hard, yelling, “Follow!”
“What are you doing?” Trent gawked at her.
“Following!” Her expression was fixed in concentration as she held onto his hand tightly.
And they did. There was a moment when the night whirled around them, and they felt as cold and indistinct as a wet wisp of fog, and then with a
thump
, they appeared inside a thickly carpeted hall, well polished oak panels surrounding them, and a door just closing ahead of the two of them.
“Someone's house,” Bailey murmured.
“You think? Actually, it seems to be more of a mansion. Maybe even a castle,” Trent commented.
She nudged him. Her hand fell away from her pendant. “I don't like the feel of this. It stinks of wolfjackal and the others.” She looked up and down the hallway uneasily.
He didn't either but wouldn't say so because his feeling came from entirely different senses than hers. “This is where your rock led us. Let's just find Jason and get out of here.
If
it worked. We could be burglars or something if it didn't.” He pointed at the door. “That looks like the best bet.”
She arched her neck, squinting back down the long corridor. “I know there're times when it's just not wise to go barging around. He's here somewhere, I feel it, but . . .”
“Gotta start someplace.” He put his hand on the knob, turning it slowly, and pushing the door inward. It creaked with all the theatrical noise of a Hollywood horror movie. “After you.”
Bailey stood in the doorway, her back to the jamb. “I think I'll keep one foot in the door, thank you.”
Trent moved past her. “Well, someone has to go in.”
Bailey tossed her head, ponytail swinging, and answered firmly, “It doesn't have to be me. And Jason is already in there.” She looked into the amber-shadowed room, and saw the silent figure of their friend standing by the side of a great wing chair that faced an immense fireplace with brass firedogs at either side.
Trent frowned. Of course, Jason was already there! And if he'd been attuned to his crystal, he would have known that. Many more mistakes like that and the whole world would know he wasn't fit to be a Magicker. He thumbed the opaque rock hanging from its watch fob as he stopped at the center of the room. “Jason?” His voice echoed in the vast library, and sort of hung there, although he swore he could hear pages ripple as if an opened book were disturbed.
A very long moment passed during which Trent seriously wondered if he and Bailey could even be noticed by their friend. Then Jason stirred and looked up, his face pale and stricken. “I've found him,” he said slowly. He put one hand on the brocaded chair. “And he's dead.”