The Dark Academy

by Gerhard Gehrke

  The Dark Academy

  Supervillain High Book 4

  by

  Gerhard Gehrke

  Copyright © 2017 Gerhard Gehrke

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or recording, or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  Published by Lucas Ross Publishing.

  Author website: www.gerhardgehrke.com

  Edited by Brittany Dory at Blue Minerva Copyediting

  Cover Design by Greg Simanson

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

  1. Watching the Watchman

  “Don’t make eye contact.”

  “Sorry,” Vlad said as he walked past Brendan, heading the opposite direction on the campus pathway. “But everything’s set.”

  “Good. Poser, can you see me okay?”

  A small insect flew above nearby. Not an insect—a tiny drone. It bobbed in the air like an indecisive moth in search of a flame.

  “Yeah,” said Poser’s voice in the tiny earpiece inserted in Brendan’s left ear. “Although flying this thing makes me realize it doesn’t exactly like to hover in place. How do you keep this stupid thing still?”

  “Practice. I’m still working out the kinks. It works better if you fly in a straight direction.”

  “Then you need to walk faster and not take any turns.”

  Dozens of students came and went along the pathways between the buildings. The sun burned hot in the afternoon sky, having dissipated the cool autumn morning’s mist by noon. Once again, Dutchman Spring Academy felt like it was in the middle of a desert…which it was. But the air was clean and the town was quiet, unlike his home in Queens where his mother lived. Some complained it was too quiet. But Brendan didn’t mind the change. And with all the events since he’d arrived at school, the quiet was welcome.

  He wiped the sweat from his palms onto his jeans. Everyone was set. Delaying the meeting would only twist his stomach into a bigger knot.

  In the front entryway to the humanities building, a group of students waited by the door to the front multipurpose room, which had been Sperry Appleton’s temporary office ever since the evacuation of the admin building. The front door was clogged with students waiting for an audience with the head of the academy.

  But the headmaster hadn’t been around for a month and no one had any news as to when he’d return.

  His temporary leave was now being described as a sabbatical. Brendan had looked the word up, thinking it was something priests did. The extended vacation was a cover of some sort. Brendan’s father’s twin from Not-Earth had assaulted the headmaster the same evening Brendan had confronted the double, and Brendan and the A.V. Club hadn’t seen Sperry since. They had tried contacting him on the phone, in person both at his office and home, and via drone. The headmaster was out of sight and perhaps not even in town. His security people occasionally showed up at the house, but they evaded Brendan’s attempts to follow them.

  Brendan bypassed the humanities building’s front entrance. He wasn’t here to see the headmaster’s deputy. She was useless as far as Brendan was concerned, as she had no clue about any of the unworldly events that had transpired. The school’s extraordinary concern for Brendan’s safety ebbed a week after he’d met his dad’s double in the restaurant. The cops were out of the picture. The task now lay once again in the hands of campus security. His father’s, and thus Not-Earth’s Myron Reece’s, face was now known to each member of the school’s security team. But school security, while professional, had gaps. Brendan suspected he could march an invading army from another dimension onto school grounds before anyone noticed.

  “Why aren’t you using the front door?” Poser asked.

  Brendan’s breath was coming up short. He fluffed his T-shirt to get some air moving, but it wasn’t just the heat of the day. “Because I’m trying not to freak out. It’s the FBI that wants to see me.”

  “Yeah, so? Think of him as just another cop. Now are you sure you don’t want me there? I’ll be a rodeo clown for you and pull aggro like a good tank.”

  “I’m fine. Just fly my drone. Where’s Tina?” Tina was supposed to get eyes on the FBI agent Brendan would be meeting in his counselor’s office.

  His phone vibrated. Mr. Jeremy Eisle, Dutchman Springs Math Department. Brendan tried to send it to voicemail, but his hand was shaking and he accidentally answered.

  “Brendan?” Mr. Eisle said.

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “I was hoping to catch you before you left class, but you departed so quickly there wasn’t time. It’s your last geometry test. There were twenty questions and you only answered eighteen of them. Brendan, you only got two of the questions correct. This was an open-book test, and you had the entirety of the class period to complete it.”

  Brendan stopped walking. A student following close behind almost collided with him. “I guess I was having a hard time with it.”

  “That’s why I’m making myself available. I and the two T.A.s are at your disposal to help you where you’re encountering difficulties. In fact, if you would like to come in this afternoon instead of attending your electronics club, we could even retake the—”

  Brendan’s phone pulsed. Incoming text message. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” he said and hung up.

  From Tina: “He’s here. Followed from parking lot.”

  “Roger that,” he replied. “Heading in.”

  The Poser-piloted drone left him once he went through the glass side door of the humanities building. In addition to the normal student traffic, the combined staff of the many displaced admin offices packed the halls leading to his counselor’s office. Everyone seemed to be on the move, and Brendan struggled to keep his cool as he pushed his way through.

  He saw Tina across from the office’s door. She gave him an exaggerated nod and pointed to her eyes and the door of the office. He nodded back and went in. His counselor, Mr. Childes, sat in the office with a red-haired man wearing a blue blazer. The pale man’s red lips parted into a toothy smile as Brendan entered.

  “Mr. Brendan Garza. I’m Special Agent Walters. Won’t you please have a seat?” He gestured across a small coffee table to a blue-pillowed chair. To Mr. Childes he said, “And might we have your office for a few minutes?”

  Mr. Childes adjusted his glasses on his slender nose. “Special Agent Walters, you know I can’t do that. I have custodial oversight over Mr. Garza, so it will either be me in attendance or his attorney. And since you assured me your inquiry was nothing more than follow-up on Mr. Garza’s missing father, then you can proceed with me present.”

  Agent Walters nodded graciously, the smile never leaving his face. Brendan sat.

  “As you know, my office has been involved with tracking down the man you say kidnapped your father, a man you described as your father’s identical twin.”

  “Which office is that?” Poser asked in Brendan’s ear.

  Brendan scratched his neck and pondered how he could mute the microphone. But then he asked, “Which office are you working out of? Los Angeles?”

  Agent Walters’s smile cooled, but just barely. The Federal Building in Westwood had been heavily damaged by the Los Angeles earthquake. “Most of my office has relocated to Burbank. But we at the bureau are confident in our continued ability to serve the community. Now, about your father and this twin. Our records indicate Myron Reece is an only child
. Is it possible the man you reported was either an imposter or in actuality your father?”

  “No, it’s not possible. The man spoke differently, threatened me and my girlfriend, and was left handed.”

  “All things listed in the police report. How often have you heard from your father over the past six months?”

  Brendan studied the agent but could get no read. “He’s called a few times. Always a new number, so I never answer, thinking it’s a wrong number. He leaves a voicemail.”

  “Do you have any of those saved?”

  “No.”

  “And besides the dinner you had in the Chinese restaurant where he threatened you, how many times have you seen him?”

  “Careful,” Poser said.

  “He’s stopped by the school on two previous occasions. All surprises. I haven’t had regular contact with him for most of my life.”

  “Did he threaten you on any of those occasions? Make you feel unsafe?”

  “No, never.”

  “Can you describe your relationship with your father?”

  Brendan thought for a moment. “Nonexistent. He was never around.”

  “Around enough to pay for a pretty nice school.”

  “Mr. Garza was awarded a scholarship to our institution,” Mr. Childes said.

  “Of course he was. It had nothing to do with the fact that his father, through his criminal enterprise, has accumulated enough ill-gotten wealth to provide his son with an exceptional education his single mother could never hope to afford.”

  “This guy’s a jerk,” Poser said.

  “Is there a question, Special Agent Walters?” Mr. Childes asked.

  Agent Walters’s smile broadened, reminding Brendan of a shark. His cheeks grew round and his dimples deepened. “Your father is a fugitive and a dangerous felon. He abandons you and your mother when you’re a child. Does nothing as far as support, from what I can see. Your mother is a hardworking single mother raising a son, struggling to make ends meet. Your life has its own twists and turns, transferred from one school to the next, some trouble with the authorities, psychological counseling.”

  “That information is confidential,” Mr. Childes said.

  Agent Walters put up a hand. “I’m not prying. The records I do have access to tell a tale. I’m only interested in pointing out that you don’t owe your father anything. If he was here and threatened you, then come on, Brendan, tell me how I can find the man. For his sake.”

  Brendan’s hands tightened on the chair arms. “I don’t know. It’s not like I have a way to contact him.”

  “But he contacts you. What was the nature of your discussion when he threatened you?”

  “Tell him everything,” Poser said. “Daddy’s twin wanted an interdimensional portal ring, and you gave it to him.”

  “Be quiet,” Brendan muttered.

  “Excuse me?” Agent Walters said.

  “Nothing. He actually asked about the accident I was in where I broke my wrist. Asked about the scholarship and how I got it. Then I suggested he consider turning himself in.”

  The agent nodded for Brendan to continue. Brendan knew he had to be careful about over-embellishing.

  “That’s it. He got upset. Maybe the twin thing is my imagination. Maybe he’s always been ambidextrous and the rest is me not knowing him as well as I thought. If you can find him, great. Thank you.”

  “Is it possible he has some need of you and your talents?” the agent asked. “Or something else you might have?”

  Brendan tried to ignore his growing sense of unease. What does he know? “I don’t know what you mean. I’m a high school student. I don’t have much money, and he didn’t ask for any.”

  Agent Walters tapped his lips. “Maybe he didn’t. But maybe you gave him something besides money. And perhaps you’re underselling yourself. If you didn’t give anything to him, did he give anything to you?”

  Mr. Childes sat forward. “These questions are unusually vague, Special Agent Walters. Mr. Garza has answered all of your questions and I think we should end—”

  “Shhh.” Agent Walters held a finger up in Mr. Childes’s direction without breaking eye contact with Brendan. Then Brendan heard a short pop and a hiss in his ears. He reflexively put a hand to his ear but stopped himself from dislodging the microphone. What’s Poser doing?

  “Mr. Garza, would you like me to repeat myself?” the agent asked. “I want to know if your father gave you anything, even something small.”

  The hiss in Brendan’s ear was deafening. Agent Walters waited, his smile holding none of the affable charm from earlier. Mr. Childes was staring too.

  “I’m…” Brendan began to say, and then Tina came bursting in through the door.

  “Hi, I’m looking for room—oh, I’m sorry, this doesn’t look like a biology lab.” She turned and left, leaving the door ajar.

  Without hesitating, Brendan took the microphone from his ear. When the agent’s attention returned to him, he said, “He didn’t give me anything. He’s a wanted criminal and not part of my life. He never was. He never supported me or my mom, and the only favor he ever did me was to change his name so people wouldn’t know we were related.” His voice rose. “And my scholarship to the academy was awarded fair and square and my dad had nothing to do with it!”

  Mr. Childes was taken aback by the outburst, but Agent Walters appeared unfazed. Brendan’s hands trembled and he felt flushed.

  Agent Walters pulled a card from his wallet and handed it to Brendan. “Okay, Mr. Garza. If he contacts you, call me immediately. That has my cell number. I want to thank you for answering my questions. Now if you’ll excuse us, your counselor and I have some things to discuss.”

  2. Roadrunners

  “What happened to the mic?” Brendan asked. “It almost blew my ear out!”

  The A.V. Club sat together in the electronics lab around a back table, out of earshot of the half dozen other students who were working on their projects.

  “We don’t know,” Vlad said. “If you calm down, we can talk about what happened.”

  “But it wasn’t just the mic,” Poser said. He handed over the insect-sized drone. “The drone was outside the window and all his pickups went dead. I had to recover him manually so I didn’t lose him. Seems to be working fine now.”

  Brendan took the drone and examined it. There was no visible damage.

  Tina put her phone down. “I could hear everything fine through your phone, but then the call dropped. That’s when I came in. I thought something was happening.”

  “Any one of these things could be a glitch,” Brendan said. “But all three?”

  “Signal blocker could do it,” Vlad said. “Did you see him trigger anything? Hand in his pocket, a watch, something else?”

  Brendan shook his head.

  “But he had friends,” Tina said. She texted a few pictures to everyone’s devices. The photos showed two other agents walking with Agent Walters from the parking garage to the humanities building. Both agents split up and appeared to walk around the outside of the building. The men were overdressed and stuck out among the students and faculty.

  “Their sticks are so far up their butts they must taste splinters,” Poser said.

  “I couldn’t keep an eye on both of them while listening in,” Tina said. “I ditched them once the meeting started.”

  “Either could have triggered a signal blocker,” Vlad said. He rubbed his nose and continued to review the pictures.

  “But it’s not like we were talking about anything besides my dad,” Brendan said.

  “Maybe that was enough,” Tina said. “Or they knew we were listening. I’m guessing a signal blocker is an indiscriminate device.”

  Vlad nodded. “Yup. Think one giant AOE. Must have jammed up everyone in that wing of the building.”

  Poser put his phone away. “Well, we did our service to king, country, and Brendan. Let’s go eat.”

  ***

  “How’s your homework load ton
ight?” Tina asked Brendan as they left the student restaurant. She walked with a hitch in her gait, her right leg in a walking cast. She had broken it four weeks prior when they fell through a portal that led to a parallel world where the school had been destroyed.

  Brendan shrugged. “It’s optional extra credit stuff.” Even the few bites of lasagna he had managed were sitting heavy in his stomach. He wasn’t sure why the encounter with the agent unsettled him so much. Like Poser said, it was just another cop. He had spoken with enough of them in his lifetime.

  “Good,” she said with a smile. “That means we can do something fun.” She took his arm and led him towards the gym.

  “I’m kind of tired.”

  “Yeah, aren’t we all. But you’ve been either locked up in your dorm room or skulking about the electronics lab for a month, ever since we closed the last gate. We went through some stuff, but we can’t just disconnect from everything.”

  Brendan didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. The low bustle and hum of the crowd inside the gym filtered out into the evening air. Brendan stopped.

  “Is there a game tonight?” he asked.

  Tina set her jaw. “Yes. I told you yesterday. Our season starts early.”

  “But it’s not like you can play. Why did you even bother going to tryouts?”

  “Because tryouts here mean showing up and having a beating heart. My cast comes off in a week, and the coach will put me on the roster. So the least I can do is go to the game and cheer us on.”

  She tugged on his hand and led him to the gym’s double doors. A banner above them read “Dutchman Springs Roadrunners,” with stars, flourishes, and some angry-looking birds decorating the large cartoonish letters.

  “We’re roadrunners?” Brendan asked.

  “You do go to this school, right? How could you not know that?”

  “Been busy,” he muttered.

  “I can’t hear you when you mumble.”