Van Bender and the Burning Emblems (The Van Bender Archives #1)

by S. James Nelson

  He sat down next to me. Too close. I shrugged and moved over, so our arms didn’t touch.

  “Eh, you know. I still smell like smoke from the pyrotechnics at the concert. Kind of nice. I thought I’d sleep in it.”

  “Let’s cut to the chase,” he said. “You have questions.”

  “One or two.”

  He fell silent. I made a show of glancing at him, but really looked under the bed. I could see one of Kurt’s dark brown Sketchers. I looked away and focused on the remote, again.

  “Look,” Dad said. “Your mother and I haven’t yet agreed on what we should tell you.”

  “Thanks a lot. That’s great. Why’d you even come in here?”

  “Because we did agree that you need some satisfaction. So, I’m going to answer one question for you tonight.”

  I grunted. “Oh, that’s very generous. One question? Really?”

  He held up a hand and shook his head. “Any one question. Then your mother and I will have a chance to talk more about this, and later we’ll determine what we’ll tell you, and what we won’t.”

  “I guess you haven’t had too long to think it over, have you? Only fifteen years, or something.”

  “It’s the best compromise she and I could come up with.”

  I glared at him. “You would tell me everything if you could, wouldn’t you?”

  He shrugged. “Well... “

  “Why do you defend her? I can tell this is all her fault. Every last bit of it.”

  “Take it easy. She’s trying to do what she thinks is best for you in a hard situation.”

  “What’s best for me is that I have all of the information I deserve. Not one stupid question’s worth.”

  The problem was, I had no idea what question to ask. Maybe if I had a little help, I could come up with something really good. Maybe Sandra and Kurt could help me.

  I still couldn’t believe that they’d broken into my room. How many times could they have done that, and not? It sure seemed like arranging the meeting with Nick would have been a good time to do it.

  The iPad. They’d given me an iPad for my last birthday and hidden it under the couch. They’d broken into my room and put the iPad there.

  Dad shrugged and continued our conversation. “There’s a certain amount of logic to her view. It’s not like I’m some weak-minded idiot who does whatever she says.”

  “And what is that logic?” For an instant I pictured myself like some hero in a fairytale, tricking a leprechaun into giving me one extra wish. Or, in my case, question.

  Dad raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, like he knew exactly what game I’d started. But he didn’t say anything. He let me play it.

  “There’s some history with Intersoc. It’s complicated, but it’s made it impossible for her to go there, and for me to be with her. It’s the reason she and I separated years ago.”

  “And it was your idea? You sacrificed our family for it?”

  He winced. “Your mother and I agreed that it would only be for a short time. It’s been longer than we expected.”

  “And I bet it involves Nick Savage.”

  He shrugged and nodded. “Enough games. Ask me your one question.”

  I stood, dropped the remote onto the couch, and went to the window. On the narrow wall between the windows, I pushed the button that opened a bank of blinds, and tried to look out. But in the window, I only saw my reflection, Dad looking at me patiently, and Kurt’s foot under the bed.

  “Richie, it’s a dangerous world, with a lot of crazy people. And it’s only getting more dangerous. People are only getting crazier. Everything we’ve done—we’ve done to protect you.”

  Did parents say things like that to make you feel guilty? Because that’s sure what happened right then. It just made me feel bad for everything I’d done. And that only made me angrier. It only made me want to do it again.

  I looked at him in the window’s reflection.

  “Mind-erasing,” I said. “How many times have you guys erased my mind, and what did you erase?”

  Dad let out a long, slow breath. “You would ask that question.”

  It took a lot of effort not to look at him. They’d erased my memories. Tampered with my head.

  “Half a dozen times, at least,” Dad said. “Usually encounters with people who wanted to teach you about brink. Some of them rock stars.”

  “When was the last time?” I said, hoping he would humor me with more answers.

  He grunted. “Moab. Fiery Furnace. Bobby Fretboard.”

  I rounded on him. Anger rose in my cheeks, and I couldn’t help but clench my fists. He’d nearly crossed all the way to me, and reached his hands out to grab my shoulders. I didn’t let him. Instead I stepped away, shaking my head.

  “So I did meet him! I didn’t fall and hit my head!”

  “You met him, all right. But your mom caught you meeting him, neutralized him, and erased your memory.”

  “Did she kill him?”

  Dad laughed. “No, she didn’t kill him. We just turned him over to SOaP.”

  Anger seethed through my head. It felt like my skin was on fire. They’d erased my memories.

  Rude. Just rude.

  I was getting madder every second, with every word he said. Our conversation needed to end or I would say too much and get myself in trouble. Uh, more trouble.

  “I’ve asked my question. Will you get out, now?”

  He gave me a long, ponderous look, and nodded once. “Richie, don’t do anything rash. We’ll get through this. I’ll teach you everything you need to know. In time, you’ll have all the freedom you want. I promise. Just trust me.”

  “Sounds like a great idea.”

  He sighed, shook his head, and left the room.

  Before Sandra or Kurt could emerge from their hiding places, I’d already crossed the room and grabbed the bag that Nick had given me.

  Chapter 30: I give rebellion a chance

  I really thought he was crazy. 100 percent loco.

  -Sandra Montoya

  As I dumped the contents of the bag into my lap, I sat on my bed with Sandra on one side and Kurt on the other.

  The bag contained a tube—like a sample toothpaste tube—a plain lighter, a cube of polished silver, and a folded note with my name written on the outside.

  “I can’t believe all of this,” Sandra said. “If I hadn’t heard your dad talking about it, I’d have thought you’d gone crazy.”

  The note, from Nick, encouraged me to trust him and said that everyone else was wrong about him. It indicated that the tube contained brink, and that I should contact him with the spell he’d diagrammed in the note. It looked like the same emblem Marti had used to make her video call to Beulah at Intersoc. He would give me details on how to get the multiplier from Intersoc.

  I unscrewed the tube’s lid. A purple glow shone from the top. It smelled like cinnamon.

  “Are you going to cast a spell?” Kurt said.

  “I want to see it work,” Sandra said.

  “I’m just so ticked off at my parents,” I said. “They’ve kept me sequestered from everyone—even you guys—without giving me any information. They’ve erased my memory.”

  “I can’t believe,” Kurt said, “that you actually did meet Bobby Fretboard.”

  “And you really can’t remember any of it?” Sandra said.

  I shook my head. “They cleaned it out of my head. And now they want to keep more information away from me. Even despite everything I’ve seen. I’m just so pissed off.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Sandra said. “They’ve been cruel.”

  “For all we know,” Kurt said, “they could erase your memory again.”

  I stared at him, stunned. It was true. They could erase my memory again. They could make me forget everything.

  I couldn’t let them do that.

  “What are you going to do?” Kurt said.

  Of everyone I’d met that night, Marti seemed like the only person I could rea
sonably talk with. But if I contacted her, how much bodily harm would she do to me?

  “I think,” I said, “I’m going to contact Marti Walker.”

  Sandra’s head snapped toward me. “What?”

  “No way!” Kurt said. “Not her!”

  “Why her?” Sandra said.

  I swallowed hard. “I think she’s the only one I can trust.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “It has nothing to do with the fact that she’s totally hot? Or that she’s a huge star?”

  “No! And no!”

  She swallowed hard and licked her lips. Her face softened. She nodded. Her bout of jealousy surprised me.

  Please,” Kurt said, “not Marti Walker.”

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t stand her. Nothing about her. Not her music, not her cover art. Not her face.”

  I gave him a frown. “You’re freaking me out.”

  He shrugged. “She freaks me out. Everyone loves her so much, and I don’t get it.”

  I’d known he didn’t like her, but really? “She’s about the only one I think I can trust right now—besides you guys. So you’re probably going to have to put up with her for a few minutes.”

  He heaved an enormous sigh and looked to the ceiling. “I’ll try to be strong. Now, can we use some brink?”

  I nodded. “Let’s do this thing.”

  Chapter 31: My first emblem

  He cast that first spell like a pro, like he’d been practicing it for years. He just has natural talent. At everything. Sometimes I can’t stand it.

  -Kurt Strand

  Kurt, Sandra, and I examined Nick’s instructions on the spell, but my friends weren’t much help since they’d never even seen a spell. Eventually, satisfied I could do it, despite Dad’s warnings, I squeezed some brink out onto the palm of my right hand. It felt like it had sat in a warmer for a little while.

  “That blows my mind,” Kurt said.

  I grinned. Standing at the foot of my bed, facing the door, I closed the palm of my hand over the brink, careful not to get any on my fingers, then raised my hand before me. My heart pounded. What if I cast the spell wrong?

  I couldn’t worry about that. I had to do this. Before my parents erased my memory again.

  I opened my hand and drew an oval in the air. As the brink slid off my hand and into the air, chills ran through my body, as if the smeared brink pulled warmth from my muscles and bones. Cinnamon filled my nose. Hopefully the smell wouldn’t sneak under my door to my parents. Or, if it did, Mom would think her candle was on. Maybe it was. I drew the squiggly line exactly as Nick had drawn it in the note, and found I had a little brink left over.

  Sandra sniffed. “Cinnamon?”

  “Boom!” Kurt said. He stood next to me, jaw gaping, shaking his head. “My head is blown! Clean off!”

  I looked around. What to do with the excess brink? I sure couldn’t put it back in the tube. It made better sense to use a vial—you could scrape your left over brink back in. With no other choice, I closed the palm of my hand. Maybe Marti could tell me what to do with it.

  I readied the lighter at the bottom of the oval, where the squiggly line touched it, and took several deep breaths.

  This was it. It was the tipping point. I was going to actively and purposefully disobey Mom and Dad.

  “You sure you want to do this?” Sandra said.

  Her dark eyes felt like darts into my head, so sharp and piercing. She seemed to understand my predicament perfectly. Mom had done so much for me. She’d let me become a rock star. She’d stayed by my side every hour of every day during the cancer. We’d probably spent more time together than any two people should. All of it because she loved me and wanted to protect me.

  “I have to do this,” I said.

  “Why?”

  I thought about it for several seconds, and it hit me.

  It wasn’t just about rebelling. My parents had coddled and protected me for so long that I didn’t know if I could make good choices. I didn’t know if I could do things on my own. I needed to show Mom that I could make decisions and accomplish things without her help. I was capable, competent.

  Wasn’t I?

  I needed to find out. Even if it meant maybe hurting them a little. Or a lot. By my purposeful acting against their wills, all of us could learn to trust that I knew what was best for me.

  Instead of explaining all of that, I said, “So they don’t erase my memory again.”

  Sandra nodded. “Okay. Do it.”

  I flicked the lighter with my thumb. It lit. My heart pounded.

  I glanced at Kurt and Sandra. They watched with wide eyes. Had I looked so amazed at the first spell I’d seen? It seemed like a year ago, but had only been six or so hours.

  “Now what?” Kurt said.

  “There’s nothing to it,” I said with a shrug. “I just light it.”

  “Get on with it!” Sandra said.

  The note instructed me to think of Nick when I lit the brink, therefore it made sense that I should think of Marti if I wanted to contact her. So I did as I touched the flame to the brink. It caught fire and the flames spread around the oval and up the squiggly line. In about one second, they met at the top.

  I waited for something to go wrong. For my eyeballs to turn into golf balls, or something.

  A humming sheet of white light filled the oval. Marti’s face appeared. Her head laid on a pillow, eyes shut.

  The spell had worked. I’d cast my first spell successfully, on my first try. I was a natural.

  So much for the danger.

  I grinned at Sandra and Kurt. If my parents weren’t in the house, I would have done something fun to wake Marti up. You know, shouted really loud. Or made a sound like an alarm. But instead I just said her name quietly.

  Her eyes opened and looked directly into my face. She hadn’t been asleep. Just pretending.

  “Richie!” Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

  “How do I zip out of here?”

  She sat up in her bed. The oval followed her movement like a camera just a few feet in front of her face.

  “How are you even casting this spell?”

  I didn’t know how much time we had.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I said. “I need your help. How do I zip out of here?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Where are you?”

  “In my bedroom.”

  “In Malibu?”

  I was vaguely aware of Sandra stiffening next to me. I tried not to think about what it might mean that Marti knew where I lived.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Have you set up a receiving door?” Marti said.

  “What’s a receiving door?”

  She growled and shook her head. “Then you can’t get out of there.”

  I held up the square-inch metal cube. “I have this.”

  “Where did you get that?”

  “Nick.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t have time right now. We want to get out of here.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah,” Kurt said. He stepped next to me and leaned his head next to mine. “We want to get out of here.”

  Marti’s eyes widened. “Who the freak is he?”

  Sandra leaned in on my other side. “I’m going with him, too.”

  Marti’s face grew even more alarmed. “How many people are there?”

  Marti’s near-panic didn’t bother me. I just liked having my old buddies along with me, standing by my side.

  “I’ll explain everything once you help us get out of here.”

  “There’s only one way,” she said. “You’ll have to use my zip code.”

  “What? 90210?”

  “No, my zip code. It’s an emblem you draw in the air, and it allows me to zip to wherever it’s drawn. I can zip into your room. Very expensive to register with Intersoc. Quite a luxury.”

  “Oh, aren’t you special,” Kurt said.

  I
jabbed his ribs with my elbow. “Okay, what’s the shape?”

  “Let me show you.”

  She leaned over in her bed and turned on a light. The video spell followed her, so I could watch her grab a vial of orange brink out of her nightstand. She got up from her bed and drew a shape in the air right in front of her face. It had a star connected to two parallel vertical lines on top.

  “Eight spikes,” she said. “You have to get them exactly right, or the spell won’t work. One at each major point on a compass, then four more between.”

  “Is that a spur?” Kurt said.

  Marti grinned and nodded. “Exactly.”

  “Cute,” Sandra said. “Very cute.”

  “More like lame,” Kurt said.

  Marti shot them a dirty look. “Draw the shape in a clear space I can zip into. Eight spikes. Got it?”

  I nodded.

  She smiled at me. “Excellent. Light it once you have it drawn. Give me one minute, and I’ll zip in. Sit on the bed, so I don’t kill you.”

  She swiped her hand across the spell, and it ended. The brink stopped burning, and floated in ashes down to the speckled carpet. It occurred to me to worry about the stain it might leave, but I couldn’t do anything about it right then. We just needed to get out of the house, to a place where we could talk with Marti. Maybe she would know what to do.

  “Can you draw that shape?” Kurt said. “It looked pretty complicated.”

  “I think so,” I said.

  With the smell of burnt cinnamon thick in my nose, I squeezed more purple brink onto my palm. Halfway between my bed and the door, in the open space, I drew the shape. When I’d finished, some brink remained on my palm. Once again, I didn’t know what to do with it, other than close my hand around it.

  “That’s not quite right,” Kurt said.

  “What?” I held the lighter up to the emblem, unlit.

  “That shape. It’s not quite right. The bottom spike doesn’t quite point straight down.”

  “Whatever,” Sandra said. “It looks good to me.”

  I went ahead and lit the emblem at the bottom. The fire spread along all of the spurs and up the shape.

  Kurt frowned. “What happens if the emblem isn’t right? What happens to Marti? Does she get obliterated?” He sounded hopeful.