The Doorknob Society (The Doorknob Society Saga) (15 page)

I grabbed my book bag, slung it over my shoulder and left my room. I stopped outside Dad’s room and listened for a moment. No loud snoring shook the door so I knocked lightly, turned the knob and peeked in. The bed was empty, never slept in.

Dad had never come home last night; I shook my head in annoyance.

What are you up to?

This didn’t have a thing to do with his magic act. He was up to something else, I could feel it. The man in black coming after us had changed something for Dad. It was like a switch had been flipped and Dad hadn’t been the same since. He was spending so much time away from me that I was starting to wonder if I’d been abandoned again. I didn’t care what anyone said; I was going to find out just what the hell was going on.

I headed out the door to the Cape Beanery. Edgar was already in line with a gaggle of other kids waiting to order their morning coffees. I sidled up to him and nudged his shoulder.

“Oh, hey, Chloe,” he said prying his eyes away from the paperwork he was pouring over. He rolled up the maps and shoved them back in his bag.

“How’s it going?”

“Good, I heard you’re moving over to the HVO.”

“Yup, today is my first day.”

“That’s pretty cool. The HVO is one of the most secretive of all the societies.”

“I just hope it goes quick. I don’t understand why they don’t just have me try the Doorknob Society already.” I grinned imagining the look on Mr. Jordan’s face when I declared for DS.

“It’s an old school rule that if your parents have abilities, but you haven’t declared, you have to try all the other societies first.”

“Wonderful, so I’ll be going through this until I get to the Doorknob Society.” I leaned up against the counter as Edgar ordered our morning coffees.

“Don’t worry I’m sure it’ll turn out fine,” he said handing me my morning jolt of caffeine.

“I guess,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely confident of it as we walked to school.

When we reached homeroom Mrs. Flint was standing beside the door talking with a tall, thin, dark-skinned woman I’d never seen before. I took my seat in class while Edgar jumped in the one behind me and began scribbling on one of his maps.

Mrs. Flint walked in and the woman followed closing the door behind her as the final bell rang.

“Good morning, I trust you all had good evenings.” Mrs. Flint’s eyes roamed the room but focused on me for a moment before she continued. “Now as some of you may know there has been much talk of the truces being in danger. With that in mind it has been decided that the time has come to teach you some simple defense tactics. And for that reason we have brought in Ms. True to instruct you in the art of self-defense.” Mrs. Flint turned to the woman then stepped aside.

Ms. True smiled and stepped forward. “Thank you Mrs. Flint,” she said with a slight Caribbean accent as her studious glance moved over each and every student. “For the next few weeks I will be instructing you in the defensive properties of your abilities.”

“But Mapmakers don’t need defense?” Edgar blurted out as his pen abruptly stopped moving.

If there was one thing Edgar hated, it was not getting to work on his maps.

“From time to time even Mapmakers need to use their abilities to defend themselves,” Ms. True said.

“I guess,” Edgar mumbled slinking back in his seat, his pen lying immobile on top of his map.

“Let’s begin. Each guild has their own unique powers and those powers spring from the same underlying ability to manipulate time, space and dimensions. Because of this each one of you has some awareness that can be utilized to defend yourself.”

Ms. True’s long fingers deftly removed a silver chain from around her neck, a skeleton key dangled from the end. I winced not happy with a Guilder being the one to teach me defense.

Crimson coils of energy drifted from the key as she activated her abilities. But instead of forming a portal her hand shook and a barrier of energy formed in front of her.

“All Old Kind can access the energy of the Universe. When not used to form a portal, it can be used to create barriers of pure protective power, in essence a shield.” She flicked her wrist and the barrier disappeared. “Concentration is the key in being able to do this. The construct will only be as powerful as the user.”

The shield had been similar to what I had seen the first night we returned to Cape May and Slade and Dad had fought off our attackers. I glanced back at Slade a couple of rows behind me. He was leaning forward on his desk in rapt attention.

“What about offense?” Slade asked and I turned back to Ms. True who smiled in his direction.

“I came here to teach you defense.”

“Offense is the best defense,” I replied and Ms. True turned to me, her eyes narrowing slightly, though she maintained her smile.

“Yes, I suppose it is. Very well, as many of you know it is possible to create energy weapons with our abilities. It follows the same principal as defense. When you focus your energy,” —she held out her key and tendrils of red power crept out once again but this time they formed into a curved dagger— “a solid weapon is best such as my blade. But you can also focus your power into concentrated blasts of energy.”

The dagger disappeared and a bolt of crimson energy shot across the room and slammed into the wall behind us.

“Cool,” I whispered and for the first time was impressed by a Guilder.

“But that is just the beginning of what can be accomplished by someone who is a diligent student of their abilities. For the moment let’s concentrate on something a bit more mundane.”

Ms. True walked to the teacher’s desk, lifted the black leather bag that sat on the corner and unzipped it. She reached in and pulled out a doorknob and a skeleton key and placed them on the desk. She dug around inside again moving things that sounded far too large to be in such a small bag. Finding the other objects she wanted, she pulled out a map and a compass.

“All of these are tools used by our individual societies, but they are also traps of the oldest sort. For as long as we’ve existed the societies have had disputes with one another, devices like these were created to trick, trap and imprison.”

She grabbed the doorknob and lifted it in the air for all to see, then stepped forward and handed it to a student in the front row. “Pass it around and can someone tell me what the difference is when compared to the average doorknob vessel.”

She stepped back as the students continued to hand it off to each other. One by one they examined it, flipped it around, shook it, but mostly they shrugged in defeat. I stopped watching when the eleventh kid got so frustrated after staring far too long at it that he shoved it into the next kid’s chest.

“All these devices are used for the same purpose, to deceive your enemy. Of course your natural ability will sense that the item is imbued with some form of power. But for most it will just register as a natural byproduct of its use. That is where the deceit becomes dangerous. Beneath that can lay a trap and once sprung can ensnare you in a pocket dimension or do much, much worse.”

Ms. True really caught my attention with that, when the girl in front of me turned, lips tightly pursed, and shoved the doorknob at me then turned in a huff.

I’d forgotten about it and realized that so far not one of the kids had discovered anything odd. I wasn’t really sure what to look for so I turned it over in my hand, and yup, it resembled an ordinary doorknob. A tingle tickled my stomach as the knob’s energy sprung to life. Warm and inviting, it seemed to urge me to make use of the knob and turn it. For the first time I didn’t fight it, I let the sensation flow over me and it spread quickly through my whole body. I was confident at that moment that I could access the knob and use it to walk between worlds.

An electrical shock small but jarring stung my hand that held the doorknob and I felt something else, another current running beneath the first. I let that current flow as well and it felt odd but somehow familiar. A slight glow began to imminent from the knob and in the middle appeared a black speck—I shook my head—no it was a spot. I squinted wondering if I was imaging things but I wasn’t, the spot was growing bigger by the second. It formed its final shape in less than a minute.

My eyes spread wide when I realized what it was and I jumped from my seat dropping the knob and stepping away from it. I gasped several times, fighting for breath and I wished I had never seen that doorknob.

Everyone turned and was staring at me as the doorknob fell off my desk, onto the floor and rolled, stopping right in front of Ms. True. She leaned down, picked it up and smiled.

“It seems that someone has discovered this doorknob’s trap,” she said loud enough for the whole class and possibly for anyone in the hallway to hear and then raised the doorknob for everyone to see.

Right in the center was a hole for a skeleton key.

Chapter 15

Status: Detective Inspector Chloe?

The entire class stared at me. Even Edgar and Slade were looking at me with shocked expressions. Nobody even noticed when the door opened and in the doorway stood Detective Inspector Emory. His trench coat hung open and his embroidered red vest, a pocket watch chain attached, looked ready to burst at the seams. He pushed his fedora back with his thumb and looked directly at me.

“Good Morning,” he said with a grin.

Finally everyone turned their attention from me to the Detective Inspector.

Ms. True turned to him her lip twitching. “Emory, what are you doing here?”

“I came to pick up my tagalong.” His thick finger pointed in my direction. All focus once again turned on me.

Ms. True sent me a wicked glance that almost had me shivering... almost. “We still have a half hour of class left and Ms. Masters has shown some unexpected proficiency.”

“The law waits for no one; you know that better than most, True.”

“Very well,” Ms. True said, obviously having no choice. “Chloe, gather your things and go with Detective Inspector Emory.”

I grabbed my books, shoved them in my bag and tossed it across my shoulders, happy that I had been saved from my classmates never-ending stares. I rushed to the door, casting a quick look at the doorknob with the keyhole still visible sitting on the desk. I shook my head and followed Emory out the door.

We walked down the hall and towards what I assumed was the section of the school that the Honorable and Venerable Order of Detective Inspectors occupied. I quickly found myself in unfamiliar territory and not wanting to get lost I made certain to follow close alongside the hulky Detective Inspector Emory.

My mind raced with thoughts and conjectures over what had just happened. How had I been able to activate the Skeleton Key hole, was that something all DS members could do? I gathered not by the stares I had gotten from friends. I shivered at what this might mean for me.

We stopped in front of a wall and Emory pulled out his badge, flipped off the leather covering and held it up to the plain wall. The hair on my neck immediately stood on end and my gut started doing aerobics. The badge glowed and the sound of clanking metal echoed down the corridor as the wall melted into a column of metal bars. Emory slid his badge down and into a small casing which was the mirror image of his badge and the bars swung open leading into another hallway. Emory flipped his badge closed and it disappeared back into his trench coat. The two of us entered the new hall.

We approached an ordinary door at the far end. Emory swung it open and before us spread a scene of manic activity. A long room that seemed to go on forever was jam-packed with old wooden desks. On top sat typewriters and mounds of papers. People were everywhere. Some scrambled around the room, some sat at desks typing away while others busily escorted what I assumed were prisoners —since they were handcuffed— to cells that dotted the far wall.

Emory walked into the madness and I followed alongside. I had to sidestep to avoid one man wearing goggles and a metal breast plate that had steam pipes sticking out of its sides and who shouted something about car racing at the Diesel Factories. I saw another DI who was wearing a jetpack and escorting, with forceful nudges, two men whose faces were painted to resemble skulls and who wore cowboy outfits with mechanical wings.

Emory sat at one of the desks and pointed to the seat in front of it. His desk was neat and tidy, nothing out of place. All that it contained was a typewriter (technically not a typewriter it was actually an Amazing Typographer Model D 3000, trademark the Impossible Engineers) and a pad of lined yellow paper and a pen.

I sat in the chair across from Emory pulling my bag into my lap as I did. He said nothing just sat there watching me. I was tempted to say something to him, anything. But I had the sense that he was up to something and I was not going to fall into some easy trap. So I sat silent and glanced around at the chaos. I watched as the two cowboys were processed and then an old woman entered screaming that someone had stolen her skeleton keys. An officer calmly informed her that she was holding them in her hand. I even saw three officers struggle with and jail a much larger gremlin than I had battled.

“So why haven’t you declared yet?”

The question alone felt like a body blow after what had just happened. Had I not declared for DS because I truly belonged in the Skeleton Key Guild, the image of a smiling James Nightshade made me tremble. He would just love that wouldn’t he? He’d have a chance to tell me what to do. It couldn’t be true; it just couldn’t be... all Masters were DS members. Why would I be any different? I was so confused that I just wanted to talk with Dad. He’d help me figure this out. But he was nowhere to be found. He had thrown me into this world and left me to fend for myself.

“I don’t know.” I practically spat out the answer.

“No need to get upset. It’s just a question, not a judgment.”

“Sure it is.”

“It is what?”

“A judgment, why ask the question otherwise.”

“Simple detective work, to help me better understand you, I probe. Your thoughts on why you haven’t declared help me to get to know you, really know you. And since I’m supposed to help you and evaluate whether you’d be a good Detective Inspector then the question is pertinent.”