“Now listen here, you little moron,” Lindsey said, tightening her grip on Candace. “My father is down there in the hands of that maniac, all right We haven’t heard from him in two days and he may be dead for all I know. So don’t you dare tell me that I don’t want to find the last ingredient! Because it’s all I think about.”
If the St. Gregory’s students surrounding Lindsey and Candace hadn’t been paying attention to the two girls before, they certainly were now. Lindsey could feel tears forming, so she quickly jumped out of line and headed for the lobby restroom.
Olivia saw her friend streaking across the lobby and followed her. She had no idea what that twerp Candace Tutter could have said, but Lindsey never got upset for no reason.
Candace may have been a genius, but as she watched Lindsey rush to the bathroom, she felt like an idiot. She wanted to apologize immediately, but Lindsey didn’t return for several minutes. Her mother had told Candace that one of the important interpersonal skills Candace needed to work on was sensitivity. Candace tried, but sometimes she felt as though people were impossible to predict. Most times, she never quite knew what would be upsetting to others. This time, though, she should have realized that Lindsey Lin’s nonchalant attitude was masking her deep-seated fears about her father.
When Lindsey and Olivia stepped back in line, they joined their roommates, who were a dozen or so places ahead of Candace. Candace understood. For Candace Tutter, before this week, when she’d forged a genuine friendship with Fern McAllister, being left by herself was the status quo. She was accustomed to it. So she waited in line alone for the next hour until a tour guide led the St. Gregory’s group around the bureau. Walking through the large, warehouselike building, she peered through the windows as color was added to big reams of paper. Her favorite step in the process was the last one—where the sheets of printed bills were cut. She liked watching machines slice the currency up and then bind the cash into stacks.
After the bureau tour came lunch, and Candace sat alone on one of the benches lining the grassy area of the National Mall. She picked at her tuna sandwich, unable to take her mind off offending Lindsey Lin and wondering what Fern might be doing in her room. She saw Lindsey sitting across the grassy area and could tell she was distracted. Candace didn’t understand how Lindsey’s roommates couldn’t notice the distant look on their friend’s face.
Her thoughts turned to Fern—Fern was counting on her, she knew, to determine the last ingredient, but she was no closer than when her alarm had sounded that morning. Brainstorming with Lindsey was no longer an option, but if she helped free Mr. Lin, she knew that Lindsey would easily forgive her earlier insensitivity.
The sun was shining and many of the St. Gregory’s students had stripped off one of their layers of clothing, basking in the sun’s warmth on the Mall’s expansive grass. Instead of busing to their next stop, Headmaster Mooney decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather and walk. The students formed a single-file line and marched out, large presidential heads on sticks poking up here and there, garnering puzzled looks from fellow tourists.
The building that housed the National Museum of the American Indian was unlike the other museums they’d visited. It was constructed of sand-colored limestone and had no right angles—only curves. There was a large domed lobby and tall windows many stories high that welcomed the afternoon sun. Headmaster Mooney announced that they would have an hour and a half to wander through the museum on their own until reassembling in the museum store near the welcome desk.
Candace didn’t waste any time. She took one of the pamphlets from a holder on the welcome desk and quickly scanned it.
There it was, halfway down the second panel of the brochure, as if meant for her eyes only: Exploring Mesoamerica: The Mysteries of the Mayan Civilization.
Candace nearly leapt in the air. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but she began to speculate that something in the exhibit would reveal a clue about the Mayan god Ix Chel. She had to restrain herself from sprinting up to the fourth level. Now was not the time to draw unwanted attention.
She scanned the map of the fourth floor and pinpointed the location of the temporary exhibits. She raced through rooms of ancient artifacts and a hallway dedicated to Indian cowboys and cowgirls, famous for their rodeo skills. She found the enclave devoted to the mysteries of the Mayans. Each wall exhibition was spotlighted from above, but the enclave itself was dim, adding to its eerie quality. Candace felt her heart race. Her eyes darted from a wall exhibit to a glass case and then back to a booth playing an information video. The room was a treasure trove of Mayan artwork and artifacts. She studied the wall map that explained where the Mayans had lived when the civilization was at its heyday from 300 to 900 a.d. There were over five hundred Mayan cities with a total of fifteen million people inhabiting much of the Yucatan Peninsula.
Candace zoomed across the room, past a small replica of an actual Mayan temple. There were samples of Mayan texts as well as different theories discussing why the Mayan civilization declined. Historians still disagreed about the reason for the disappearance of the Mayan cities.
Candace spotted the exhibit she’d been searching for. In a corner chronicling Mayan spiritual life, there was a glass case dedicated to Mayan gods and goddesses. Can-dace zeroed in on the display. There were beautiful carvings and paintings of fantastic-looking gods. Under each one of them, a plaque described the god’s meaning to the Mayans and its functions. Candace studied the information, her mind processing even faster than normal as she sensed she was nearing the answer she so fervently hoped to find.
There was Itzamná, the creator god, pictured with an ornate headdress, then Chac, the rain god, and Ah Puch, the god of death. Candace recognized the name immediately—the potion’s name was derived from this frightening creature. Jewels jutted from Ah Puch’s forehead, and a bony spine extended down his back.
Finally, there was Ix Chel, staring unblinkingly at Candace. Candace leaned on the glass case to examine the Mayan goddess more closely, pressing her hands up against the pane. Her chest tightened. She reminded herself to breathe.
A guard moved behind Candace. He’d been watching the entire time, deciding that she was exactly the type of museum guest who didn’t think the rules applied to her. “Please do not touch the case. If you do not remove your hand within the next few seconds, an alarm will sound.”
Candace recoiled, already on edge. Closing her eyes, she calmed herself.
“Sorry, sir,” Candace said, smiling submissively at the guard. Conspicuously placing her hands behind her, she stepped back slightly from the display. Ix Chel was painted in bright colors. Her headdress consisted of dozens of turquoise-colored snakes, all intertwined. Around her neck, she wore a necklace made from different-size bones. Her eyes were shades of brilliant blue. From a distance, the snakes melted together and the necklace could have been of any composition—Ix Chel was beautiful. Candace read the description beneath the picture.
Ix Chel, a powerful deity in Mayan culture, had many attributes. She was the goddess of childbirth, weaving, and medicine. Some historians speculate that the Mayans also viewed her as Itzamná’s consort. Ix Chel’s fundamental qualities and beauty were said to exist in the moon itself.
Below the plaque was a picture of Ix Chel’s radiant eyes drawn inside the face of a full moon. Candace’s attention converged on two words. “fundamental qualities.” She unfolded the list Fern had given her. Ix Chel’s essence. Quickly glancing back and forth from the plaque to the list, the exceptionally fast wheels inside Candace Tutter’s brain began spinning. Her mind recalled all synonyms for “essence” she’d found last night, while trying to figure out what the cryptic clue could mean.
Memorizing the list had taken her only a few minutes: basic, core, foundational, pivotal, essential, inherent, intrinsic, and fundamental. Ix Chel’s luminous blue eyes stared out at Candace from the face of the moon. Candace imagined them penetrating right through her.
Much l
ike the tail end of a solar eclipse, it was as if bright light had emerged from darkness and suddenly illuminated all the pieces to the puzzle. It was so simple.
The moon itself!
The only question that remained for Candace Tutter was how quickly she could find Lindsey Lin.
They had a lot of planning to do.
“How can you be sure that Laffar is after a moon rock?” Lindsey asked doubtfully.
Candace had located Lindsey and her roommates in the gift shop, a few minutes before the St. Gregory’s group was to assemble. She’d looked everywhere for her and, just when she was running out of options, found her standing between two rows of authentic Native American crafts, looking somewhat dazed. She’d asked to speak to Lindsey alone, and Lindsey had rolled her eyes and asked her roommates to give her a second.
Candace wasn’t surprised by Lindsey’s skepticism— she’d expected some resistance. Fortunately, the search had given Candace time to crystallize her theory.
“There’s an entire exhibit on Ix Chel upstairs,” Can-dace reported as she started to pace back and forth between the aisles. “Apparently, she’s a goddess of the moon. The Mayans believed that they could see her essence in the night sky when they looked up at the moon!”
“Okay,” Lindsey said, “but that could be a coincidence.”
“The probability of all the other factors aligning in this way would be a highly unlikely outcome!” Candace insisted.
“What other factors?” Lindsey asked. She picked up a hand-sculpted clay pot and traced its pattern absentmindedly. Candace could sense that Lindsey wanted to be convinced that the last ingredient had finally been identified but needed more proof.
Candace dropped her backpack to the ground and searched inside its main compartment for her spiral notebook. She was sure, given her photographic memory, that she could recite the evidence she’d meticulously compiled by heart, but now was not the time to risk overlooking even the smallest detail. She flipped to the page where she’d detailed her deductive reasoning, cleared her throat, and began.
“First, we know that whatever the final article is, it is most likely located in Washington, DC. We know this because Miles is being held captive here, and Miles indicated that Laffar is going to use him to secure the last item tonight. Secondly, we now know Ix Chel’s essence was thought to be the moon itself. A clear manifestation of the moon here on earth is a moon rock.” Candace looked up and realized she’d already hooked Lindsey. She was listening intently. Candace continued.
“You may have known all this. But what you probably don’t know is that, on Earth, moon rocks are available from only two sources. They either originate from a space mission that transported them here, or they exist in the form of a meteorite that fell to Earth.
“Now, you may be asking yourself why Mr. Laffar would bother burglarizing a museum to get a moon rock when moon rocks that have fallen as meteorites are for sale on eBay,” Candace continued, beginning to pace back and forth across the aisle. “That is a valid question, but if Mr. Laffar has gone to all this trouble acquiring the other elements, then he’s going to want to make sure that the moon rock he gets is not a fake—which means one thing: He’s got to get one that’s verified as completely authentic. Normally, moon rocks are stored in nitrogen to keep them free from moisture. Those would be difficult for Mr. Laffar to obtain and transport for a variety of reasons. But had you been paying careful attention this week, you would have read that there is only one lunar rock in the world the public is allowed to touch. It’s a four-billion-year-old sample taken from the moon’s surface during the Apollo Seventeen mission in December of 1972, and it is housed at the National Museum of Air and Space.” Candace swiveled and turned toward Lindsey.
“I am one hundred percent convinced,” Candace concluded dramatically, “that Mr. Laffar is going to strike there tonight, in an attempt to gather a moon rock, the last substance required to formulate the Ah Puch potion!”
Truth be told, Candace Tutter was not 100 percent convinced. After all, she knew that a scientist with integrity was rarely 100 percent sure of anything. But she assured herself that her exaggeration would be forgiven, and she’d deemed the percentage of doubt in her mind to be statistically insignificant.
Though Candace had slowed her rate of speech while expounding her theory for Lindsey (her mother was constantly reminding her that effective speakers paced themselves), Lindsey still needed a moment to process all that she’d heard.
“I don’t know why I didn’t put it all together before,” Candace added, icing the evidence cake she’d baked in front of Lindsey. “It’s pretty obvious, now that I think about it.”
Lindsey’s almond eyes stared intently into Candace’s. Perhaps she’d underestimated the girl. In that brief moment, she began to see why Fern had relied on Candace as a keeper of her most precious secret. She had all the qualities of a pint-size consigliere.
“How do you know all that stuff about moon rocks?” Lindsey asked, hoping that this was the moment when things started turning around for the Lins and they began to discover how to rescue her father.
“Space Camp. Last summer.” Candace’s mother thought that at a place like Space Camp her daughter would make some like-minded friends, but even among the science nerds assembled in Huntsville, Alabama, that summer, Candace Tutter stuck out.
“I’m impressed,” Lindsey said.
The residual guilt from their earlier confrontation outside the Bureau of Engraving and Printing resurfaced in Candace’s mind.
“I’m sorry I said you didn’t care,” she said. “I know that’s not true.”
“It’s okay,” Lindsey said, looking pensively at Candace. Lindsey preferred not to think too hard about her unstable emotional state when she’d taken Candace by the shoulders.
Candace struggled to fill the expanding emptiness between them, but Lindsey got there first.
“Hey . . . can I ask you a question?” she said.
“Yes,” Candace responded, bracing herself.
“Why do you care so much about all this?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Candace responded, put off by Lindsey’s sudden earnestness.
“It’s funny,” Lindsey said. Her expression was both kind and thoughtful. “You’d think that we don’t tell Normals about our existence because we don’t want Normals knowing our secrets, but I think it’s really because we’re afraid Normals won’t believe any of it. But you . . . you’ve believed everything Fern told you. You’ve lied for her, you’ve stayed up scribbling things in your notebook in order to solve the puzzle of the potion, and today I saw you running around the museum like a crazed beast.” Lindsey drew her eyes away from Candace’s as if she were embarrassed. “I guess I’m wondering . . . why do it? Why did you even believe Fern in the first place and why put yourself in the middle of something so dangerous? What’s in it for you?”
Candace tried not to gawk at Lindsey despite her surprise at Lindsey’s willingness to open up to her.
“Fern’s a friend,” Candace said, letting a hint of defensiveness seep into her voice. “Actually, Fern’s my only friend.”
Lindsey looked reflectively at Candace Tutter—there was no shame on her face. Instead Lindsey saw fiery integrity within the girl’s big chestnut eyes.
“Well, thank you. For helping figure out how to get my dad back.”
Lindsey’s family was more tolerant than most, but even she’d been raised to mistrust all Normals. All her life, she’d kept them at arm’s length. She’d been told that if Normals found out about Otherworldlies, Otherworldlies would be persecuted and perhaps exterminated. But Fern, raised by Normals, didn’t harbor any preconceived notions. When Lindsey had been distracted by thoughts of her imprisoned father, Fern relied on this small girl genius. Plus, it wasn’t Normals who had taken her father, but an evil Otherworldly.
“And,” Lindsey began again, “Fern’s lucky to have you on her side too.” She smiled at Candace.
Candace had recovered from the excitement of her frenzied race around the museum and now astonishment set in. Here she was, talking to the most popular girl at St. Gregory’s, using what she’d learned at Space Camp to help her new friend Fern—a real live superhero—stop her father from carrying out a murderous plot.
Though she knew it was utterly illogical and irrational, and never to be admitted by a true scientist, Candace Tutter was starting to believe in fate.
Chapter 25
Two Plans
It’s impossible to determine whether Haryle Laffar knew the names of each of the unlikely cast of characters assembled in room 754 plotting his demise, but he was certainly aware of Fern McAllister’s presence there.
Mrs. McAllister had been selected to host the clandestine post-dinner meeting because her room was in a different wing of the hotel from the rest of the St. Gregory’s tour group, thereby making the parade of people filing in less conspicuous. Even so, they had to wait until nine p.m. to meet for fear that an outsider might discover the gathering.
Fern wasn’t surprised by the pristine condition of the Commander’s room—there were no visible signs that the room had been occupied for the better part of a week. She, Lindsey, and Sam sat on the king-size bed, Mrs. Lin and the Commander took places on opposite sides of the small table by the curtained window, and Candace Tutter balanced cross-legged on a counter in the entryway, leaning against the wall.
When Candace appeared at the door with Lindsey and the McAllister twins, Mrs. Lin made no effort to conceal her displeasure. Her jaw dropped slightly, and she raised her eyebrows at the small girl.
“I’m not sure this is advisable,” Mrs. Lin said, trying not to be rude as she eyed her daughter and blocked access so Candace couldn’t enter the room.
“It’s okay, Mom. She already knows everything, and she’s the one who figured out the last ingredient,” Lindsey said defiantly. “We may need her.”
Candace wanted to jump for joy. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been needed by anyone.
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