Pyxis: The Discovery (Pyxis Series)

by K. C. Neal

  I gave Mason a little wave and turned my attention to Mr. Sykes as he settled himself onto a dark brown La-Z-Boy, propping his cane against the armrest.

  “When we spoke last, I did not realize poor Dorothy was in such bad shape,” he began apologetically. “I assumed you could speak to her about the … situation, and she could take your grandmother’s place as your mentor. But young Mason here has informed me that Dorothy is not in her right mind.”

  I nodded and glanced at Mason, who sat next to me. “I went to visit her a few days ago, and I don’t think she even knew me. I talked to her for a while, but she barely looked at me and never said a word.”

  Mr. Sykes frowned and looked down at his hands. His wiry eyebrows drooped over his eyes. “That is most unfortunate. I am afraid there is not much I can do for either of you without Dorothy.”

  “What … what do you mean?” I asked. I wanted to jump up and down with frustration. Why was he being so difficult?

  “It is a bit complicated, unfortunately, because I am not at liberty to say much to you.” He sighed. “Your grandmother would have been the one to explain, and to mentor you, Corinne. Since she is gone, those duties fall to your great-aunt. If Dorothy was deceased, those duties would fall to me. But as long as Dorothy is alive, I cannot fulfill that role.”

  I didn’t feel like I knew much more than I had fifteen minutes ago. I desperately wished he’d stop being so cryptic.

  I held up my hands in a helpless shrug. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Mason told me a bit about the dreams you have had recently. Most troubling.” I glanced at Mason, who mouthed sorry. I wasn’t mad that he’d talked about the dreams, though. I just wanted to see how he was reacting to all of this. “But you are right to try to help Dorothy. I believe your dear grandmother is guiding you, and you must give Dorothy a bit of the rectification fluid, the white bottle in the pyxis.”

  Rectification fluid? So he did know about the pyxis. And what was he was saying about my dead grandmother guiding me? The back of my neck tingled, and I shivered.

  “So you think if she takes some of the, uh, rectification fluid, she’ll get better?” A spark of hope lit in my heart for the first time in ages.

  || 22 ||

  “I BELIEVE THE RECTIFICATION fluid could be the answer, but there’s no way to know until you try it,” Mr. Sykes said. “I am deeply sorry I am unable to assist you further. But the sooner you can get back to Dorothy, the better for all of us, I think.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll do,” I said firmly. Sounded like I had no choice anyway.

  Mason and I trudged silently toward our end of town. I tried to calm the stew of emotions swirling though me. I felt more hopeful than I had in days, but also frustrated and a little angry that Mr. Sykes was holding out on us. He claimed he couldn’t do anything more, but it was hard not to be upset when he seemed like the only lucid person left on Earth who could help.

  “Corinne,” Mason said quietly. His voice was so serious, I glanced up at him worriedly. His eyebrows were drawn in an expression that reminded me of how Mr. Sykes had looked just minutes ago. “I’ve been home for a while now, and I’m tired of pretending like, well … you know, before I left…”

  My heart thudded in my chest. I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard Mason sound so uncertain, and it made me even more nervous. But I kept walking in silence. I wasn’t going to make it easier for him.

  He tried again. “After what happened, I thought we were both happy about it. But then when you wouldn’t write back to me….”

  He didn’t know I knew about him and Sophie, of course. A tiny part of me wanted to just forget I ever saw that picture on Ang’s phone, because I was positive that it’d been all Sophie’s doing. She’d lured him out there somehow. She knew Mason and I had kissed, and she couldn’t stand letting me have that. I knew it was way more her fault than his, but still. He’d let it happen.

  “I think we have a whole lot of crap to deal with right now,” I said, keeping my eyes on the sidewalk in front of my feet. “And I think it will be easier if we’re just friends.”

  It could almost feel his disappointment radiating toward me in little waves.

  “Okay, if that’s what you want,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  After half a block, I couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “New topic,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “What do you think we’re supposed to be doing? Like, what responsibilities do we have in this pyramidal union thingy?”

  “You’re the Pyxis. I’m the Shield,” Mason said, his head down and his voice sullen.

  “Okay … but honestly, I don’t have any idea what that means,” I said, trying to draw him out of his mood. “What does it mean that I’m the Pyxis or you’re the Shield? It sounds like some stupid Dungeons and Dragons role-playing game or something, seriously.”

  Mason cracked a tiny grin. “Yeah, it kind of does. I really don’t know, either. But before you got there, Mr. Sykes and I were talking, and he gave me the impression that there are these roles, like you said, closely connected to each other.”

  “But what are they for?”

  “I don’t really know. But I think it has something to do with our dreams.” He looked at me then, and apprehension clouded his hazel eyes.

  “Oh God,” I moaned. “Right now I’m just really wishing there was some kind of manual for all this. Like for the driver’s license exam.”

  He chuckled. “That’d be sweet.”

  The knot in the middle of my chest loosened a little. It was so much simpler to be friends like we were before, like we had been for years. If I pretended the Winter Solstice Festival never happened, maybe he would, too.

  Then he turned serious again. “I also got the idea that you’re the one who’s supposed to be the center of it all. All of this … whatever it is.”

  A similar thought had been lurking at the back of my mind for a while now. I’d been avoiding it as much as possible.

  “I don’t want to be the center of it all,” I said, barely above a whisper.

  “I know. I don’t think any of us has a choice, though.”

  Mason left me at my house and went to meet up with Garrett and Jesse. I shut myself in my room and tried to repair my chewed-up nails with an emery board and a fresh coat of midnight-blue polish while I waited for Ang to call. Part of me wanted to avoid thinking about what Mr. Sykes had told us, but it seemed like the more I tried to ignore everything pyxis-related, the more it poked at my brain. The other part of me was trying to forget what Mason had said. I couldn’t help wondering how the conversation would have gone if I hadn’t cut him off with the “let’s be friends” bit.

  Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I needed something else to focus on. I waved my hands back and forth for a minute and tested the polish, then pulled the pyxis from its hiding place. I flattened the Tapestry Lake Convergence list on my desk and opened Mason’s screenshot of the weird website’s login page.

  The screenshot had five username and password login pairs, each with a set of initials above it: ALL, BC, PC, RC, and TLC. I traced my finger across the laptop screen, stopping at each set of letters, whispering them to myself. Then I let my eyes drop down to the pyxis list.

  And suddenly it was so obvious.

  I grabbed my phone, and, too excited to take the time to punch in a text message, called Mason.

  “Hello?” Mason hollered over music that was so loud I couldn’t identify it as anything other than noise.

  “Mason! That website!” I yelled. “One of those logins is for us!”

  I heard a door slam shut, and the noise on Mason’s end dampened considerably.

  “What about the flashlight, now?” Mason said. I snickered.

  “No, the website. You know. I figured something out. The login that says TLC? I think that’s for Tapestry Lake Convergence, the heading on the pyxis list.”

  “Crap on a cracker,” Mason said slowly, and I snorted
a laugh. “You think we’re supposed to be able to log in there?”

  “Yes, I think it’s something for the pyramidal union,” I said, my voice so firm it surprised me a little. But then I felt a flash of uncertainty. “Although, my grandmother and Aunt Dorothy never even owned a computer. I don’t think they would have known about any kind of website.”

  “Then who would have set up a login for the Tapestry Lake Convergence?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe there are other people, besides the ones on the pyxis list, who know about this stuff. Maybe they set it up, and they’re the ones using it.”

  “Someone like Harriet Jensen, you mean?”

  An unpleasant shiver crept across the back of my neck. “Could be. I hope not, though. That would just be one more thing she knows about that we don’t.”

  “Well, I say we ask Mr. Sykes about it.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yep, first thing.”

  We hung up, and I paced my room, trying to guess possible username and password combinations. Would it be a group login, for anyone in Tapestry who knew about the convergence and pyxis? Or was it individual? Maybe because my name was on the list, I’d have my own account. That would mean someone else had set it up for me. I shivered again and suddenly wondered if there were people somewhere out there—or maybe right here in Tapestry—who knew a lot more about me than I realized.

  I tried to push aside the creep factor and think. Assuming I had my own individual account, my username probably would be something obvious, like my first and last name or first initial and last name. But the password would be something known to me, but not to Mason or Ang.

  I stood in the middle of my room, my hands on my hips, and turned a slow circle. My eyes skipped over my black and purple bedspread, the little desk next to the bed, the closet, my purple velvet chair, dresser, and bookshelf.

  I blew out an exasperated breath. Even if I could guess it, Mason would have to help me get back to the website and the login page before I could actually try any username and password combos.

  My phone buzzed, and I opened a text from Ang: Done w fam obligation. on my way to ur house!

  When she bounced into my room, I repeated as much as I could remember from Mr. Sykes, and then showed her what I discovered about the website and the pyxis list.

  “We have to get in there,” she agreed, then examined the screenshot on my laptop. I absently reached out and smoothed the frown lines from her forehead from my thumb, and she smiled a little. “Do you think the other logins are for other … convergences?” She tentatively tried out the word.

  “Like BC for Boston Convergence or something?” I asked.

  She shrugged one shoulder uncertainly.

  “Good a guess as any,” I said, and mirrored her shrug. “But that would mean what? There are other people like us?”

  We sat silently for a minute, then Ang sighed loudly and her face brightened.

  “Okay, time to take a break from all this convergence stuff. So, you know Spring Queen is coming up in two weeks, right?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I am not going to another dance with you so you can gaze at Toby Ellison from afar. If you want to go, you have to ask him,” I insisted.

  The line between her eyebrows returned, and she started picking at a cuticle. “I’m not sure—”

  “No!” I interrupted. “It’s time to take the bull by the horns. I think that after harboring a secret ten-year crush, it’s time to take action. Seriously, Ang.”

  “Oh, okay.” She sounded totally stressed. “But I’m not going to do it unless you ask somebody, too.”

  “Fine, it’s a deal,” I agreed. “No backing out, though!”

  “No backing out,” she said firmly. “So who’re you going to ask?”

  Crap. I couldn’t very well take Andy. Jordan didn’t seem interested in me anymore.

  “I heard from Kaitlin that Sophie wants to ask Mason,” Ang said. She watched my face carefully.

  “Are you seriously suggesting I ask Mason?” I tried to look pissed to hide the fact that Kaitlin’s gossip made me feel a little sick, but I could feel a blush blooming across my face.

  “Why not? You’ve seen him like every day since he got back.”

  “Yeah, but after … you know. It might be really weird.”

  “Maybe it won’t, though. I bet he’ll say yes.”

  The thought of Mason and Sophie on the gym floor, swaying to some romantic ballad, made me want to hurl.

  “Want to back out?” Ang challenged.

  “No way!”

  I grabbed my phone from my desk and typed a text:

  Hey, want 2 go 2 Spring Queen w me? Ang is asking Toby. FINALLY.

  I hoped it sounded casual, and not like I was trying to imply anything about the two of us. He replied seconds after I hit send.

  YES :)

  I held my phone out so Ang could see. “See? Mason already said yes, so it’s all on you. Now you have to ask Toby.”

  She swallowed and her face paled, pink blotches spreading on her cheeks and chin. “Geez, that was fast,” she said, sounding impressed and a little defeated.

  “You’re not going to pass out or anything, are you?” I pulled her toward me in a half hug. I felt a little bad.

  She shook her head. “I’ll, um, do it on Monday.”

  “Promise?” I asked. She nodded, and I knew I should back off. Then something occurred to me. “We should go into Danton next weekend and shop for dresses.”

  She actually squealed a little. “Definitely!”

  And while we were there, I could pay another visit to Aunt Dorothy.

  || 23 ||

  “FIRST OF ALL, WHAT can you tell us about Harriet Jensen?” I said.

  Mason and I were in Mr. Sykes’s living room. I had a rare day off from work, so I’d met up with Mason and walked straight there after school. Angeline wasn’t so lucky—she was trapped at the espresso machine for a three-hour shift.

  Mr. Sykes’s wiry gray eyebrows drew together, and his eyes looked squinty and troubled behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “Oh dear, is Harriet troubling you?” he said.

  “You could say that. She practically attacked me twice, and she seems to think the pyxis belongs to her,” I said. “And her name is on the list. The Tapestry Lake Convergence list.”

  I drew the waxy piece of paper from my bag, unfolded it, and offered it to Mr. Sykes. His eyebrows shot up as he examined it through his bifocals.

  “Yes, so it is,” he said, his voice maddeningly unreadable.

  He scanned the piece of paper a moment more, as casually as if he were trying to decide what to order for Sunday brunch at IHOP. He handed the list back to me. “Before you were born, we believed Harriet would succeed Doris in the next pyramidal union. But shortly after your birth, you began to show signs.”

  “What signs?” I interrupted, alarmed.

  He took a breath as if to say more, then gave me a pained look. “I am sorry, it appears I cannot say more on the topic.”

  I frowned and watched him for a few seconds.

  “Won’t tell us more, or can’t?” Mason asked, his voice low and serious.

  “Ah, not much gets by you, young man,” Mr. Sykes said. His eyes crinkled a bit with faint amusement. “I am unable to say certain things to you. Even if I wanted to.”

  “Can you tell me anything about how I should deal with Harriet?” I asked, suddenly feeling a bit more patient with the old man’s cryptic words.

  “Steer clear of her,” he said. “And do not, under any circumstances, allow her to take possession of the pyxis.”

  Gee, how helpful. “Okay, I’m pretty much already doing that. Can she … hurt me?”

  “At this point, yes, she could. You’re vulnerable, Corinne. I advise you to stay near Mason as much as possible for the time being.”

  I felt Mason straighten beside me. I wanted to ask what the heck Mason could do to protect me, but I figured that was just one more thing Mr. Sykes couldn’t
tell me.

  “We found a website that seems like it has to do with us somehow,” Mason said. “It has TLC on it. We think it’s for Tapestry Lake Convergence. Do you know how we can get into the website?”

  “A website, you say?” Mr. Sykes looked genuinely surprised, and my heart sank an inch.

  “Yeah. It has spaces to enter passwords for five different sets of initials: ALL, BC, PC, RC, and TLC,” Mason said.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know much about websites, and I’m very sorry to say I do not know anything about these initials and passwords.” Mr. Sykes looked back and forth between us, and regret seemed to make his face sag a little.

  I wanted to cry. I felt sure the website held an important key to all of this.

  “Is there anyone else besides Harriet we should worry about?” I asked.

  “No, I do not think so.”

  We were all silent a moment.

  “Well, I think that’s everything we wanted to ask you about,” Mason said. He sighed and stood up. I hefted my bag over my shoulder and followed him.

  “I am sorry I am unable to help you kids more. With any luck, Dorothy will regain her senses. The sooner the better.”

  “I’m going to Danton tomorrow, and I’ll give the white liquid another try. Mason told you about my complete failure with the cookies, right?” I grimaced.

  “He did mention it. High hopes for tomorrow, then.” Mr. Sykes hobbled after us to the door and closed it behind us.

  “Well, that was a whole lot of—” Words left me as I noticed two police cars parked in front of my grandmother’s house. The front door was wide open, and an officer emerged with my dad.

  “What the hell?” Mason said, just as I broke into a jog.

  “Dad? What’s going on?” I scanned the yard and tried to get a glimpse of the interior of the house, looking for signs of anything that warranted police attention.

  “Corinne,” my dad said, his eyes widening with surprise. “One of the neighbors said she saw someone in the back yard, and she heard glass shatter. Somebody broke in through the back bathroom window.”