Doc Harrison and the Prophecy of Halsparr

by Peter Telep

  “Just fight it. And like I said, the Galleons didn’t know you had an immortal. How could they?”

  “I guess you’re right.” Tommy shakes his head, still trying to believe it himself.

  “I think she either consciously or unconsciously blocked you from becoming a mask,” I say.

  “How you figure?” he asks.

  “Masks can’t carry immortals, so maybe Val’s immortal was trying to protect itself. Maybe if you became a mask, then she’d be gone forever.”

  Tommy nods, but then his eyes widen over an idea. “Why don’t we just ask her?” He turns away to face Val, who now floats behind us in the dim light.

  “Sun, water, sand,” she says with a smile. “It’s nice to be back home, despite all the rain.”

  “So Val, I’m not sure if you’ve been listening, but we’ve got us some theories about my wreath and what’s happening to me,” Tommy says. “Did you protect me or something?”

  “The first time, yes, because I wanted so badly for you to unlock me, but now that you know I’m here, you’ll always have control.”

  “What does that mean?” he asks.

  “It means if you decide to push your essence into your persona and become a mask, I can’t stop you. And then you’re right, I’ll be lost forever,” she tells him.

  “Can you help with the feeling?” he asks. “The urge to do that, can you block it?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Val, you have to try,” Meeka says. “Do everything you can, okay?” She glances at Steffanie. “We know how strong you are. You can protect him.”

  Val widens her gaze on Tommy. “I will.”

  “You’re my guardian angel,” Tommy says. “I wish there was some way to thank you.”

  Val’s eyes light up. “You already have.”

  As Tommy pulls back her immortal, Hedera shifts over to me and takes a seat.

  She looks troubled.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Hedera projects her persona, and the glowing face mirrors her own. She asks the others for some privacy.

  It’s awkward since the shelter is so small, but everyone nods and shifts over to Keane, who stands near the entrance, tugging open a party size bag of Doritos.

  “Nacho cheese flavor,” Cypress says, reading the bag.

  “Oh yeah,” Keane says with a smile.

  I face Hedera. “What’s up?”

  She sighs. “I’m sorry about Grace.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So like I told you, my people were hoping the Galleons here on Flora could fix our wreaths or maybe get us new ones, but now that’s obviously a bad idea, unless they can help us without turning us into slaves.”

  “Who knows? Maybe that’s possible,” I tell her.

  “So the Galleons are joining the nomad caravans, getting ready to launch a huge attack on the Palladium to take it back from the despers.”

  “Yeah, so?” I ask. “You want to go up there?”

  She nods. “My caravan wants to know more about these wreaths. We’re supposed to stay with Joshua’s caravan and guard the engine but—”

  “Forget the engine.”

  “What?” she asks.

  “Forget it. You go up there, and you see if they can stop that attack.”

  She reacts like I’m crazy. “Stop it? Why?”

  “Because we’re going to war with the Armadis, not with each other.”

  She considers that. “You’re right. But how’re we supposed to convince them?”

  “I don’t know. Even if you can just stall them...”

  She takes a long, thoughtful breath. “Okay.”

  “Have you told Keane? Is he going with you?”

  “No. Rattle’s leading my people. I’m staying with you.” Her gaze shifts to Keane.

  “You’ve been a good friend,” I tell her. “And all I’ve done is stress you out.”

  “No,” she answers, her eyes still riveted on Keane.

  “He’s a good guy,” I say, lowering my voice.

  “Look at him. He could be on The Bachelor, but not me…” Her persona rolls its eyes in disgust.

  “What’re you talking about?” I ask. “Keane doesn’t deserve you, and you should tell him that every day.”

  She snorts. “I’m such a loser, feeling sorry for myself.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  She shrugs. “I guess Keane likes me, even though I’m not a hipster.”

  “Hedera, listen. I don’t think he’s ever had a girlfriend, so just be patient. And trust me, you don’t want to be a hipster.”

  “Okay.” She pulls back her persona, grabs my hands, and squeezes them tightly.

  * * *

  Tommy’s conversation with Val reminded me of all the immortals I’m still carrying around: Lori, Hollis, Alina, and my father.

  I’m not sure what I can get out of him, but I need to talk to Dr. Thaddeus Harrison, particle physicist and professional liar. Maybe he knows something else about the labs that my grandmother doesn’t. I bet he kept information from her, and that’s the story of my life. My family tree doesn’t have branches and leaves, only secrets…

  I excuse myself from the shelter and take cover in a cave burrowed into the debris next door. Meeka insisted that I stay inside, but I need this moment.

  Now she huddles outside, standing guard, even though I keep saying that I’m okay. She won’t leave. I know when to stop arguing with her.

  For the first time ever, I project my father’s immortal, and I’m scared. I’m not sure how I’ll react.

  The projection is exactly how I remember him, not as a Mask of Galleon but as my everyday dad dressed like a geek with thick glasses, scraggly beard, white dress shirt stained with mustard, and pants yanked too high around his waist.

  This is not an exaggeration.

  “Uh, yeah, hi, Doc,” he says, distracted and barely looking up at me. I think he invented being socially awkward.

  I flash back to those final seconds in the lab, where he and Joshua stood like drugged zombies as the bomb exploded.

  The tears are right here, filling my eyes, but I’ll hang on to them. I have to.

  “I don’t even know where to start,” I say.

  He stares past me.

  I raise my voice. “Dad, are you listening?”

  He flinches. “Yeah, yeah, I was saying, I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

  “Whoa, we’re not going there. We’re getting right down to business. Julie says the Armadis is not what it seems. Do you know what she means?”

  “I don’t have much data on the Armadis. I’ve reserved this piece of my essence for all of our best memories.”

  “But I need to know more about all of your screw-ups, and all you got are a bunch of days at the beach?”

  He nods. “Because you need those memories. You need a strong emotional foundation to become a productive adult.”

  “What I really need is protection from the guy doing the most damage—you.”

  “I just wanted you to be safe… and happy.”

  “How’d that work out for you? Do I look safe? Happy?”

  “Doc, I always did what I thought was right.”

  “Maybe you should’ve thought a little harder. I mean you were a scientist, am I correct? Thinking up stuff?”

  “Being a parent is one of the hardest but most important jobs in the world.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  “Doc, I’m sorry, but—”

  “Yeah, whatever. We’ve already been here. And it’s way too late for apologies.”

  “It’s never too late—not even after a thousand years.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  My father frowns. “I don’t know.”

  “What about Mrs. Bossley? Did you suspect who she was? Plus, I met another curator from Brandalynn. She’s an immortal, and her name’s Mum. And you sent some people from England to H
alsparr, didn’t you? Why?”

  He squints into a thought. “I wish I could remember.”

  “You deliberately left out all this information from your immortal. Were you embarrassed? Still trying to protect me? Do you have any idea what’s happening now?”

  He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes, just like he always did. “I’m not sure. I think it was too dangerous.”

  “Mrs. Bossley said we chose them. What does that mean?”

  His brows come together, but he doesn’t answer.

  I groan in disgust and continue: “Dad, the only reason I’m talking to you is because we’re going to Faldareach. Is there anything I should know before we leave?”

  His gaze goes distant. “There is something, and it’s right there, I can almost see it… but now it’s gone.”

  “Of course it is. Thank you, Dad. As usual, you’ve been a great help. You have a nice day.”

  He winces over the insult. “I love you, Doc.”

  “Then you should’ve proven it.”

  “I did. One day you’ll understand.”

  I swear under my breath. “I guess you’ll never trust me.”

  “Doc, please…”

  With another curse, I pull back his immortal, drag myself to my feet, and join Meeka outside.

  “You okay?” she asks.

  I wipe off the tears. “My father’s useless.”

  “But you had to try.”

  “Yeah. But I must be insane—because every time I talk to him, I think he’ll change. But he doesn’t.”

  * * *

  Back in the shelter, I settle down and practically pass out, I’m so exhausted. My father haunts my dreams. I keep asking for answers, and he keeps telling me how much he loves me. It’s like a really bad family counseling session—

  Because Keane turns out to be the therapist. “Oh come on now, just get over it, bitches!”

  Some time later, I awaken to everyone seated in a circle. They’re connected to Cypress, and I assume she’s showing them Halsparr:

  “So maybe when all the Halsparrans die, the woven are all that’s left. Maybe we’ll rebuild. Or maybe not…”

  “Hey…” I call to Cypress. She breaks the connection, and the others sigh and blink.

  “Thanks for showing them,” I tell her.

  “I feel it already,” she says, placing a hand on her heart.

  I nod. “We call it homesick.”

  “Yes.”

  “So you’ll go back after all this,” Steffanie says.

  Cypress raises her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  Tommy turns and lifts his chin at me. “So what do you think? Feeling better? Ready to head south?”

  “Good to go, sort of.” I regard Cypress. “You don’t have to come. I can borrow Mum like we said.”

  “No, Doke. She stays with me. And I go with you.”

  Keane leans in to Meeka and mutters, “Better watch out. You might have some competition.”

  Meeka gives him a look and shoves him away.

  I glance to Cypress, who’s not sure what to make of this. She gets up and goes over to Punk and Mr. Gurdy, who lower their heads as she scratches behind their ears.

  “All right, people, listen up,” Tommy hollers, gaining our attention. “Brandalynn’s got us set up for our jump down to Faldareach. That’s the good news. Bad news is we can’t jump into the target zone. We’ll land a couple hours away on foot.”

  “Why’s that?” Keane asks, raising his hand.

  “I’m not sure,” Tommy says. “I can’t get a straight answer out of her. Some kind of topographical issues. Maybe the terrain’s too rough. All I know is that the entrance to this lab is buried beneath the ice.”

  “So how do we find it? And if it’s buried, how do we dig it out?”

  “I asked the same questions. She told me not to worry.”

  “Great,” I say.

  “Now, obviously it’s real cold down there,” Tommy says. “Y’all need to be ready. I’ve had Joshua’s people scrounging around for everything they could find to keep us warm.”

  “You think there will be another engine at that lab?” I ask Tommy.

  “I’m counting on it, son, because I do not have a plan for travelling over four thousand miles north up to Larkspur and getting in that second lab.”

  “Cypress, can we talk to Mum please?” I ask.

  She nods and projects the immortal, who says, “Hello, everyone. They call me Mum.”

  I ask her about an engine in Faldareach.

  “Honestly, Doc, and you’ll have to forgive me for this, but it’s been so long that I don’t recall. I want to say yes, since that particular lab is so remote, but I haven’t been there in well over a thousand years.”

  “My data cube’s got nothing about an engine,” Meeka says, thumbing through pages projected by the cube and shimmering in the damp air.

  “Well, there it is,” Tommy says. “We’ll have to believe that Brandalynn knows what she’s doing. And now if everyone’s ready, let’s roll.”

  I nod to Cypress, who pulls back the immortal and then drifts over to me and says, “I know cold. But Tommy says really cold.”

  “Much colder than Grrethos,” I tell her. “It’s gonna hurt.”

  “Okay, Doke. I can do it.”

  As we gather our packs and head outside, Meeka pulls me aside and says, “I need this—”

  And then she dives in for an aggressive kiss.

  “Whoa,” I say, sneaking a breath. “That was, uh, yeah.”

  “Do you like her?” she asks.

  “Cypress? No, I mean, yeah. She’s… she’ll help us.”

  “So it’s Julie I should still be worried about?”

  I wriggle my brows. “Because you like me?”

  She bangs a fist on my chest. “I’m serious.”

  “Hey, I just remembered that secret you promised…”

  She hesitates. “Now’s not a good time.”

  “Will I like it?”

  She lifts her brows. “Maybe.”

  As we start across the street, ducking as though we can avoid the rain, a chill rushes up my spine.

  I glance north, toward the feeling, where the clouds are just breaking up… and there, peeking between them, is the Galleons’ ship glowing in the moonlight.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The outpost is called Chrysantha, and it’s located smack in the middle of Faldareach, a continent about half the size of Antarctica and located near Flora’s south pole.

  Here, the nearly five hundred residents enjoy daylight for half the year and darkness for the other half. At the moment it’s “summer,” so basically the sun never sets. I’m sure our body clocks will be screwed up by the time we leave.

  We’ve jumped onto a frozen lake covered in spiked balls of white crystals. According to Meeka, these “ice flowers” are formed from moist air, sea salt, and bacteria. They range in size from baseballs to basketballs and would make awesome holiday decorations for Superman’s Fortress of Solitude.

  By the way, Meeka is now the self-appointed expert on Faldareach because she’s the only one ambitious enough to read the data cube entries. The rest of us are too lazy (or too tired, in my own defense). Keane called her the “team geek,” but she said if he calls her that again, he will die.

  The cold stings our cheeks immediately, and Cypress does something shocking: she giggles. The sight of her breath on the air is simply amazing. “Look, Doke! Look!”

  “I know, it’s weird,” I answer, recalling one morning in February when Julie and I were in middle school and blew smoke into each other’s faces. Contrary to popular belief, it does get cold in Central Florida for a few weeks per year.

  “Hey, Doc?” Tommy calls and points ahead. “On target.”

  About a thousand yards away, up along a snow-covered ridge, lies a collection of domes of varying size sprouting up like mushrooms. They’re streaked with rust and long arms of ice that reach across their surfaces and down to their
bases, where battered tubes link them together.

  Behind them stand taller, four-story buildings half-buried in more ice, and off to the south there’s a water tower, or at least it looks like one, rising on four heavy legs.

  Rows and rows of rectangular solar panels line the top of the ridge, gleaming in the sun.

  Tommy hands me a pair of binoculars, and I zoom in.

  Just below, in the rocky foothills where the snow seems to have melted away, sits an amazing sight:

  A field of golden flowers. Thousands of them.

  They stand about four feet tall, and each blossom is about twice the size of sunflowers on Earth, with six petals shaped like perfect hexagons.

  I glance over my shoulder. “Cypress? C’mere.”

  She hustles up, shivering beneath her three coats and the heavy cap tugged down around her ears.

  “Take a look,” I add.

  I hand her the binoculars, and she jerks a little, surprised by the magnified image, but then she quickly settles in and gasps, “Rokujahh, rokujahh…”

  “That’s the name for the flowers,” I say.

  “Yes, Doke. And trees. They grow all over Halsparr.”

  “Yeah, I saw some trees with the same kind of leaves. We call that shape a hexagon.”

  “It means six Gods. One for each realm,” she explains.

  Meeka, who’s shivering herself, studies a page displayed by her data cube. “That word she just said. It’s very similar to words on Earth. Roku is Japanese for six and jah is a shortened version of the name for God in Hebrew. I’m sure that’s no coincidence.”

  “The robes are life forms,” I say, thinking aloud. “And all these hexagon things are related. They have to be.”

  “Uh, hello, people,” Keane says, shoving his face in mine. “Can we stop being all sciencey and get up there. That place looks way warmer than here.”

  “I agree,” Tommy says. “Moving out.”

  We hustle forward, and I draw in a deep breath through my nose. The salty smell is there, but there’s something else, something sweet and spicy cooking in the distance.

  Two steps later, a gunshot sends us diving for the ice…

  All of us except Cypress, who leaps ahead, rolls across the frozen lake, and then comes up on one knee.