The Immortal Fire

by Anne Ursu

  The cousins exchanged a panicked glance. He was supposed to pass out. Why didn’t he pass out?

  Zee grimaced and, his face contorting, squeaked, “Sorry, mate!” and slammed the book into his head again, while Charlotte darted out of the room.

  “The keys are in the lock,” she called as the Promethean fell to his knees from the blow, his head in his hands. He started swearing loudly, and, looking quite unhappy, Zee pushed him, grabbed his backpack, and ducked out of the door.

  “He was supposed to get knocked out!” he complained, locking the door and pocketing the keys.

  “It works in the movies! Hey, he deserved it. Look what they’re about to do.”

  Zee just shook his head. “That was horrid.”

  They ran into Charlotte’s room, and she hastily threw some clothes into her backpack.

  They could hear Leo yelling next door. How long would it be before somebody heard him? The cousins hurried out of Charlotte’s room and ran up the two flights of stairs to the top floor.

  Creeping past the security room where Alec still sat in his spot, drinking from his mug, they hurried into the weapons room. This time the door was locked—convenient, then, that they had Leo’s keys. Charlotte tried three before the door gave way.

  While Zee looked over the weapons, she went to the wall of herbs, hastily grabbed the jar of sleeping potion, and poured some of the powder into one of the little envelopes that sat on the shelves.

  “Ready?” she asked Zee. He was holding a large silver sword and, standing there in his jeans and T-shirt, looked like the hero in one of those stories where a modern boy falls through time and ends up in the fourteenth century, where he has to fight to save the princess and maybe the town.

  “What?” Zee said, catching her look. “Fencing was compulsory in sixth year!”

  Dropping off the bags and weaponry in the hall, the cousins headed for the security room. Charlotte tossed her hair and knocked on the door frame.

  Alec turned around in his seat, and when he saw them, his eyes widened. “Aren’t you confined to your room?”

  “Yeah,” Charlotte said, shrugging. “We were getting pretty bored, so Leo took us to the library.”

  “Oh,” said Alec. “I don’t blame you.” He had the same numb expression on his face as the rest of them, and Charlotte felt a wave of guilt for what she was about to do.

  “Anyway,” she said, taking a step into the room, “we wanted to thank you. For the other day. I don’t know what Timon would have done if you hadn’t been there.”

  Alec nodded. “I’m not sure either.”

  Charlotte’s eyes traveled to the security monitors. She could see Steve sitting on his bed, flipping through a book. Next to her, Zee had moved toward the desk and was now leaning on it casually.

  “So where is everyone?” she asked, eyes full of innocence.

  “Oh, some meeting,” Alec said, taking a sip of his coffee.

  “Don’t you get to go?” Alec didn’t look any older than Leo—or Hector.

  “Nah,” he said, putting the cup down. “They fill me in.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Charlotte. “And—” She looked up toward the monitors and said, “Oh!” her face contorting in surprise.

  “What?” said Alec, turning quickly to the monitors. Charlotte could sense Zee fidgeting next to him.

  “Oh, nothing!” she said. “Sorry, I just didn’t realize what you were looking at.” Zee nodded at her very slightly.

  Alec frowned. “Oh,” he said.

  “Anyway, Leo’s waiting for us in the library. Come on, Zee!”

  As soon as they were out of the room, the cousins ducked around the corner, pressed themselves against the wall a few feet from the room, and waited. And waited. And waited.

  Zee turned to her. “You got the right stuff, right?”

  Charlotte pursed her lips. Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t absolutely, positively, 100 percent sure she’d grabbed the right bottle. She’d been in a hurry and hadn’t been careful. “Oh, sure!” she said brightly.

  There is very little in the world more exasperating than an adult with a cup of coffee. You’re waiting to go somewhere, and they’ve got half a cup left, and they tell you they just want to finish drinking. And then they sit. And sit. And sit. And every once in a great while they lift the mug to their mouths and take the teeniest, tiniest sip, and then set it down again, ready to sit some more.

  Charlotte was not entirely sure they would even be able to hear any sign that the powder had worked—they were waiting for a clunking sound, like a head hitting the desk, or the sound of someone falling out of a chair—but what they heard, finally, was something else entirely.

  It began as a slight groaning sound. Then, there was a distinct troll-like grunt. Then the sound of a chair being pushed back hurriedly, then a retching, then a giant splash.

  A distinctly green Alec burst out of the room, his hand over his mouth. Charlotte’s stomach flipped, but he had no eyes for them—he turned the other way and stumbled down the hallway, disappearing behind a door. The sound of retching came echoing toward them.

  “Maybe I didn’t get the right powder,” Charlotte murmured.

  “Come on,” Zee said grimly.

  Grabbing their things, they went to the emergency exit stairs and rushed down the five flights to the basement.

  There was no time. How long would it be before the meeting ended? Before someone found Leo? Before Alec recovered and returned to his post?

  They hurried to the HAZARDOUS MATERIALS door and unlocked it with Hector’s key, then went through the boiler room and into the other door. There was Steve, sitting on the bed, flipping through some British fashion magazine. When he heard the door open, he looked up and beheld the cousins with their full backpacks, Zee holding the sword. His eyes popped.

  “Are you going to kill me with that?” He didn’t look scared as much as skeptical.

  “No!” Charlotte said. “We’re going to rescue you!”

  The boy frowned and looked behind the cousins to see if they’d brought anyone else with them.

  Zee had moved next to Steve and started pulling on the chain that attached him to the floor. Nothing happened. Biting his lip, he wrapped the chain around the sword blade and heaved up on the handle, using the sword as a lever. With a mighty grunt he pulled against the bolt holding the chain to the floor. The sword bent, there was a great cracking sound, and the chain came out of the concrete, bolt and all. Zee tumbled backward, and the boy blinked rapidly.

  “There!” Charlotte proclaimed. “You’re free!”

  “Free?” Steve said. The boy took a few steps, the chain dragging loudly behind him. He looked at it. “Does this look free to you?”

  Charlotte folded her arms. “You want us to put that back in the ground?”

  “Char,” Zee said warningly, glancing pointedly at the security camera in the corner.

  “We’ve got to move,” she said. “We don’t have much time!”

  “Move?” Steve asked blankly. “How do you expect me…” He raised his wrists.

  “Wrap it around your arms,” Charlotte snapped. “Come on, let’s go!”

  As Zee wrapped the chain loosely three times around the boy’s arms, Charlotte ran through the boiler room, glanced out the door, and surveyed the parking lot.

  There was no one there. The car exit was across the garage, and a few feet away was a door that Charlotte dearly hoped was a pedestrian exit. With a nervous glance toward the stairwell door, Charlotte ran back and motioned the boys forward.

  “Hurry, hurry. Shh…”

  Zee and Charlotte took off at a run as Steve, his chained wrists raised, bumbled awkwardly behind them, swearing the whole way. Zee darted back to him and supported his arm.

  Across the garage they went, the lights around them flickering atmospherically, Charlotte leading the way, Zee pulling Steve along. They kept low, ducking behind cars as they moved, aware all the time of the door that led back up to
the Prometheans.

  And then they hopped up onto the walkway and were at the exit door. Charlotte pulled on the knob to no avail, and then tried her keys. Nothing.

  “Some fire exit this is,” she grumbled. Zee and Steve pulled up next to her, as Charlotte noticed a keypad on the door. An image flashed in her mind of Teodor typing something into a keypad on their way into the garage.

  “Did you see Teodor’s code?” Zee asked.

  She looked up. Whether it was her imagination or her senses being sharpened by fear, she could hear thudding footsteps above them.

  “No,” she said, racking her memory. Teodor had said something, what was it? “It didn’t make any sense. Teodor told Mr. Metos it was about eating pies.”

  “Huh?” asked Zee, eyes bugging.

  “I don’t know!” Charlotte exclaimed. She could hear the footsteps more loudly now; it sounded like a giant was pounding toward them. “He ate pie?” What was it exactly? “I think…‘Pie, first ate’?”

  “Pi!” The word burst out of Steve’s mouth. “He means pi!”

  “What are you talking about?” she yelled.

  “Not P-I-E,” he said impatiently. “P-I. Pi. The ratio of a circle’s circumference to its diameter! Geometry! Pi!”

  “Oh!” Charlotte breathed. Well, sure, that made sense.

  Zee exhaled. “I only know the first three. Three point one four…” The cousins looked at each other wildly. They couldn’t get out. They were trapped.

  And then, across the garage, the stairwell door burst open.

  Timon.

  “Stop!” he bellowed, his voice filling the garage. Then he took off toward them, each footfall seeming to shake the whole building.

  Steve was muttering something quickly, but Charlotte could not hear over the pounding of her heart. Timon, still yelling, was halfway toward them, and Charlotte took a step back toward the wall, as if that would help at all.

  “THREE ONE FOUR ONE FIVE NINE TWO SIX!” Steve yelled.

  “What?”

  “Pi! I memorized fifty digits for Quiz Bowl! Hurry!”

  “Oh!” Charlotte whirled toward the keypad and began to punch in the numbers.

  “Stop right there!” Timon hollered. Sucking in his breath, Zee brandished the heavy sword. Then there was a beeping noise, and the door unlatched.

  Charlotte’s hand was on the knob when Timon pulled up ten feet away from them and yelled, “Don’t move!” And then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun.

  “Don’t touch that door,” he growled.

  Everything was still. Everything Charlotte had ever done or felt or thought left her—her entire life was this moment, staring into the barrel of a gun. The door behind them had opened slightly, and the sun streamed in toward them, so close yet impossibly far away. She felt the contents of her stomach rise up, and her legs wavered under her.

  “You do not understand,” Timon said. “You know nothing. This boy holds the fate of the world in his hands.”

  Steve blinked. “What are you talking about?”

  “Free him,” Timon continued, leveling the gun at Charlotte, “and you condemn humanity. Is that what you want? Do you want more people to die? He is all we have!” He took a step toward Steve, eyeing the cousins.

  “I understand you are upset,” he said, his voice softening. “But you must trust us. We have kept humanity safe all this time. We have saved thousands of lives, tens of thousands, since your adventures in the Mediterranean Sea. There are few of us now, but we will keep humanity safe nonetheless. Move away from the boy.”

  His chest heaving, Zee took a step forward and Timon pointed the gun at him. Charlotte sucked in air. “Put down the sword, Zachary,” he said. “You look like a fool. Put it down now.”

  Zee did not move for a moment. Charlotte could not tell if he was being brave or had simply frozen to the spot. Then, his eyes fixed on Timon, he moved in front of Steve, sword poised. Behind him, Steve gasped.

  Timon raised his thick eyebrows and lowered the gun slightly. “I do not want to shoot children,” he said slowly. “But I will. I will shoot you, and I will shoot to kill. This is far bigger than you two. Do not doubt me.”

  Charlotte did not.

  As she struggled to keep breathing, her eyes met Zee’s. The sword was shaking in his hands. Was this it, then? Was this their moment? Were they going to let Timon shoot them to save this boy? Or would they save themselves, hope for another chance, and have to live with the consequences? Who were they? How would their story end? Was it their destiny to die here, to fail, to hope at least they died for what was right?

  Mr. Metos had said there was no destiny, only choice. Well, then, Charlotte would choose. It was ironic, after all they had been through with the gods, that they would die at the hands of a human. With her entire body shaking, with tears blurring her vision, with her throat closing, she moved next to her cousin.

  “If he shoots,” she said to Steve, struggling to speak, “run.”

  “I see.” Timon raised the gun.

  “STOP!” Mr. Metos’s voice came bursting through the air. “STOP RIGHT NOW!”

  He came hurtling toward them, and Timon turned his head to him. “I’m handling this!” He looked quickly between Charlotte and Zee and the approaching Metos.

  “Timon. Timon! Stop!” Mr. Metos called as he ran.

  “Metos, what are you doing?” Timon took his eyes off the huddled trio for a moment, but left the gun fixed on them.

  “This,” Mr. Metos said, reaching into his pocket and bringing out a small dagger. He stopped running and began to stalk toward the group, holding the dagger by the point.

  Charlotte did not understand, but Timon seemed to, and he looked at his colleague, incredulous. “What do you think you’re doing?” The men eyed each other, sizing each other up. “You’re willing to give up the world for them?”

  Mr. Metos’s eyes traveled to Charlotte and Zee, who stood rooted to their spot in front of Steve.

  “Yes,” he said flatly, taking another step.

  “How long do you think they will survive without us?” Timon said. “How long?” He looked from Mr. Metos to the group by the door. His eyes hardened. “Kill me, then,” he said, his voice a challenge. “I’ll die for this boy.”

  “Very well,” said Mr. Metos, and, turning his arm slightly, he flicked his wrist.

  The dagger moved through the air, spinning balletically, and Timon let out something between a grunt and a yell as it pierced his thigh. He stumbled and grabbed his leg, the gun dropping to the floor. He seemed to be screaming curses, but Charlotte could hear nothing; the world had gone absolutely silent.

  And then Timon had the gun in his hands again, and just as Mr. Metos reached for another dagger, he had leveled it at them, his face contorted in pain and rage. And then everything happened at once. There was an explosion from the gun, and at the same time Timon screamed and wrenched to the side. A bullet flew through the air, whizzing by Charlotte and hitting the wall. Timon fell to the floor, writhing, another dagger lodged in his shoulder. Mr. Metos strode up to him and slammed his fist into the side of his head. Timon collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

  The cousins stood, rooted to their spots. If Charlotte hadn’t felt the sweat drenching her face, hadn’t sensed herself shaking, hadn’t heard her lungs struggle against the weight of her chest, she would have thought she had simply stopped in time and would spend the rest of her life standing there next to her cousin, frozen in a moment of absolute fear.

  “Zee!” Mr. Metos shouted, tossing a small bag toward him. “Get out of here! What are you waiting for? Go, go!” He turned and drew the third and final dagger, then called back, “Zee, Cannon Street Station, it’s around the corner!”

  Somehow Charlotte began to move again, and she found herself in the doorway about to emerge into the bright day, when she looked back at Mr. Metos, her heart filling. He glanced at them, eyes full of words there was not time to say, and then from across the garage
the stairwell door burst open and two Prometheans appeared.

  “GO!” bellowed Mr. Metos.

  And they did.

  CHAPTER 19

  Friends in High Places

  DOWN THE STREET THEY WENT, ZEE WITH HIS sword, Steve with his chains, past all the well-tailored men and women walking out of the shops that lined the street. People gaped at them as they passed. Were they being followed? Had Mr. Metos held them off? Would he be okay? Charlotte’s heart burned and tears filled her eyes again, but still they ran on.

  They turned a corner, and, pointing off into the distance, Zee called, “There’s the Tube station, there.” They ran on, Charlotte’s body, which had been feeling somewhat better since she’d stopped running for her life, protesting so loudly that she did not notice Zee had stopped in his tracks until she almost ran into him.

  In front of him was a tall, dark-haired, athletic-looking girl of about their age. She was staring openly at Zee.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, shock on her face. Her eyes flicked to Charlotte and Steve.

  “Um,” Zee squeaked.

  “He’s just back for a visit,” said Charlotte, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “I’m his cousin from America, and this is, um, Steve….”

  Silence, as the girl’s mouth hung open.

  “Er, this is…Samantha Golton,” Zee said in a choked voice.

  Charlotte stared. This was the girl, the girl Zee had liked so much before he came over, liked so much that he had never even spoken to her. She was looking at Zee as if he had come back to life.

  “But,” she said, shaking her head, “I hear you’re missing!” She took a step toward him.

  Charlotte’s heart sank.

  “No, no, we’re all right,” Zee said, taking a step back. “Please tell everyone we’re all right. Samantha, I…I’m sorry, we have to go.” And as Samantha stared after them, the trio rushed toward the stairwell to the Underground station. They reached the long escalator that would take them underneath the city, and Zee suddenly turned back and shouted, “Samantha! You’re the best football player I’ve ever seen!”