Suddenly she remembered that she hadn’t finished her assignment for Darius Plover. Fortunately she knew exactly what she was going to do with it.
She excused herself, ran to her room, booted up her computer, and stared at the document she’d started, rereading the last few sentences. She was surprised at how easily the words conjured up vivid images in her mind. It was as if they were living things, each one bursting with energy. Each word, each phrase was filled to capacity with potential. They were alive!
And then she realized what she had to do in order to finish her assignment. The villains needed the same kind of energy as those words. They needed to brim with life, burst off the page with creativity and will and purpose. She closed her eyes and let the images and the feelings they stirred wash over her, and she knew. The characters, all of them—good guys, bad guys, and everyone in between—needed what she’d seen in Nick’s eyes. But what was it?
She could feel whatever it was, recognize it, but she couldn’t name it. If she couldn’t name it she couldn’t use it. Or could she? What was it about Nick that made him so different from Blixus or Mavis or Holmes? She concentrated, picturing the eyes that held whatever it was, the sky blue irises with their little flecks of black and the dark lashes that framed them, but that didn’t help. She thought about the way they sparkled when he was excited, and the way they held so still when he was concentrating, but that didn’t help either. She’d seen all of that a thousand times in a thousand different people. It wasn’t a big deal.
What had she seen in the tunnels? Why had she felt that connection with him even as he’d said ugly things? Why couldn’t she let go? She must be as bad as Editta, falling for someone who wasn’t real, cherry-picking the good things and ignoring the bad. Nick was an actor. He was a master of illusion. That was all it was: smoke and mirrors, sleight of hand. Whoop-de-doo. There was nothing really there at all.
And then, just as she was about to give up, another image popped into her head. It was Nick’s eyes again, but this time she could more than see whatever it was. She could feel it, and she knew. She knew that she’d been missing what was behind them. It was as if he was lit from within, with a flame so powerful it couldn’t be contained. He wasn’t avaricious like his father, or power hungry like his brother, or angry like his mother, or single-minded like Holmes. He was driven by something else entirely, but what? She couldn’t put her finger on whatever it was, but she knew that it should illuminate Darius’s villains as well.
And then it came to her: Nick was at one with everything he did. He was always in the moment, not standing outside himself observing, the way Blixus did, or Hugh, or even Harry Sheriff. Whatever he did he was completely immersed in it—not in an obsessive way, but so that he was deeply, truly present. It might be good, bad, or something else, but it didn’t matter, because it was all part of him and he was part of it.
He wasn’t a villain at all. He was just Nick, with all his contradictions and complexities and complications. You couldn’t sum him up because he was everything at once. No wonder he was so full of life.
Keeping this new insight in mind, Amanda began to work at the “Sand” scenes. Whenever she got stuck she’d think of the way Nick looked when she’d first caught sight of him in the tunnel. It was hard to put her feeling into words, and after flailing about with a thesaurus she finally gave up and let her subconscious take over. When she did she could see images of molten lava, twinkling stars, Japanese lanterns, and luminous sea creatures in her mind’s eye. What made them so magnificent? She couldn’t tell. They just were.
Then she got an idea. Like an actor preparing for a part, she became each thing. Instead of watching it, she crawled inside it, seeing what it saw, moving the way it moved. And then the words came tumbling out of her, and the characters sparkled, and they were all Nick.
When she had finished she felt so energized that she started to dance around the room. She swayed and jumped and twirled and leapt until she could dance no more. And then she sat down on her bed and stared out into space and it hit her.
Simon was right. She’d never escape Nick. He could become the worst villain on earth and it wouldn’t matter. Whatever they shared was indelible, as much a part of her as her brain, or her heart, because it was life.
But if that was the case, what about Holmes? There was no doubt that her relationship with him was over, but her feelings were as strong as ever. How could she love two people at the same time, both of whom were off limits to her? Love was supposed to bring joy, not leave you at a dead end.
And yet for some reason, impossible questions and dead ends weren’t important right now. All that mattered was that she live in the moment. She copied her work to Darius’s cloud server and pinged him. He’d either like what she’d done or he wouldn’t. And life would go on.
The kids asked Professor Kindseth to drive them back to the farm so they could look for Thrillkill, Fern, and Gordon, but he declined. “We have to mount a proper rescue,” he said.
“We can do this, Professor,” said Amanda.
“Not this time. You’ve been through enough. And we don’t need to lose more of you.”
Amanda wanted to protest, but it did seem that the teacher had the situation under control, and they had plenty of other tasks demanding their attention. She didn’t fight him.
“Despite the, er, delicate situation among the teachers, Professors Buck, Ducey, Feeney, and Snool have agreed to go,” said Professor Kindseth. “If anyone can find them, they can.”
He was right. They were the toughest teachers at Legatum. She just hoped Blixus or Taffeta hadn’t caught up with Thrillkill and her friends.
“What do you think about this King Arthur stuff, sir?” she said. “Is it genuine?”
“The numismatist certainly seemed to think so. We’re going to turn the coin over to the British Museum and they’ll send their archaeologists to the farm. As I understand, Dr. Halpin is going to consult as well.”
“Yes,” said Ivy. “Dad told me I could observe.”
“If they actually have found Camelot, do you think Blixus would come back?” said Amanda. “He seems to think it’s his.”
“Yeah, that’s nuts, isn’t it?” said Simon. “What a git.”
“When you think of it, if Blixus is Arthur and Mavis was Guinevere, then Wink was Lancelot,” said Clive. Guinevere, of course, was Arthur’s faithless wife, who fell in love with Sir Lancelot, a Knight of the Round Table and Arthur’s greatest champion. It was said that their love affair brought about the end of Arthur’s kingdom. Amanda found the story incredibly sad. She’d watched the movie “Camelot” about ten times.
“Who’s Merlin?” said Ivy. Everyone was enthralled with Arthur’s wizard. Amanda wasn’t sure who was a better one: Merlin, or Gandalf from The Lord of the Rings.
“Hugh,” said Simon.
“You got that right,” said Clive. “The kid is a wizard.”
“What about Taffeta?” said Amanda. “Morgan le Fey?” Morgan le Fey was a powerful enchantress. Amanda didn’t like her because she was always plotting against Guinevere and Lancelot.
“Pretty good,” said Simon. “She’s a sorceress, that one.”
“You know, now that I think of it, I’m sure I saw her at Schola Sceleratorum when I was there,” said Amanda. “I thought she looked familiar.”
“Wait a minute. Her name is Taffeta, right?” said Ivy.
“Yes,” said Amanda.
“OMG,” said Ivy. “I think she’s Taffeta Tasmania, the girl who was expelled from Legatum for telling an outsider about the school,” said Ivy.
“The one Editta was so worried about?” said Amanda.
“Yes,” said Ivy. “The one she said was bad luck. That’s ironic. She was right. I wonder where she went.”
“Dunno,” said Simon, “but she’d better stay clear of Blixus. Taffeta Tasmania. What a name.”
Amanda was glad that Simon hadn’t mentioned Nick. He had been the one to bring Taffeta into t
he Moriartys’ organization, and the girl had turned around and killed his mother. Amanda couldn’t imagine what he must be feeling. She could, however, picture what Blixus would do to him, and that horrified her. That the man had blamed Nick and let Taffeta go rather than grieve over the loss of his wife said a lot about him. However, the idea of trying to intervene and save Nick was ludicrous. Even if she could, which was unlikely, he’d just sneer at her.
There was something else to consider, though. Mavis, Nick’s mother, had been involved with Wink, a detective. She’d loved him passionately. If Mavis had ended up with Wink, Nick wouldn’t have been born. Either would David, or Hugh. Surely Nick had worked that one out. How did he feel about it? If it hadn’t been for Wink leaving his mother, he wouldn’t exist. Should he be grateful to a detective for his existence? Would he mourn his mother even more, or would he be repulsed by the thought that she had once loved his enemy?
How did David feel about all this? He’d lost his father, been betrayed by his roommates, been abandoned by his best friend, destroyed the school’s most important possession, and caused the teachers to split. Who could bear that kind of burden? What would he do now—stay with the family of his father’s killer? Or would he and Nick bond over their debt to fortune?
Blixus had been furious with Wink when he found out that Mavis was once involved with him. Since he couldn’t take his anger out on a dead man, he’d turned to David. But David was also a symbol of Blixus’s victory: Blixus had been the one to win Mavis in the end, not Wink. If Wink had prevailed, David wouldn’t exist. So in a way David served as a reminder of Blixus’s potency.
The whole thing was so complicated it made Amanda’s head spin. Her own life was simple by comparison. Lots of people’s parents were divorced. So what if her mother was dating a crook and her father had run off to be a monk? She could handle that. She’d coped with much more and would continue to do so.
As she was breaking her head on these thoughts and the other kids drifted away, Holmes entered the room and sat down next to her. She knew they had to finish the film, but that wasn’t what was on his mind.
“Amanda,” he said, and stopped. He seemed to be finding it difficult to look at her—again.
“Don’t say anything,” she said.
“No. I suppose it wouldn’t be right. It’s just—what you said.”
“Ssssh,” she said. She looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to—” He raised his head and met her eyes. “Just be careful. Promise me you will.”
“Of course.” She looked down at her hands, then back up at him. “Scapulus—”
He put a finger to her lips and shook his head. Then he rose and walked out of the room.
42
Unhappy Endings
Drusilla Canoodle was having a tea break when Amanda ran into her. The dean of admissions said that the rescue team had left and she hoped Headmaster Thrillkill would return soon. In addition to the other issues that were facing him, a parent had just phoned and said she’d been approached by a group of teachers. They were opening a new detective school in Scotland and wanted her daughter to attend.
“Oh no,” said Amanda. “They’re really doing it.”
“I’m afraid so,” said the dean. Her phone rang and she answered. “Yes, Mrs. Pomfritter. Thank you for letting me know. No, Legatum Continuatum is not closing its doors. Yes, we will be here in the fall, and forever. Well, yes, you are closer to the new location, but—” She listened for a moment with a worried expression on her face. “If you’ll just give us a chance—yes, I’ll have him phone you. Goodbye.”
“That didn’t sound good,” said Amanda.
“No. Dreidel Pomfritter’s mother said she’d received a high-pressure pitch from the Punitori. That’s the second call in twenty minutes. She thinks Scotland is the future and wants to withdraw her son.”
“Then it’s too late for the film,” said Amanda.
“Never say never, Miss Lester,” said Dean Canoodle.
Just then Professor Also walked by. “What film? Do you mean the one we talked about?”
Amanda and Drusilla Canoodle exchanged looks. “Yes, Professor. It’s almost finished.”
“I shall miss that,” she said. “I don’t suppose you’re giving sneak peeks?”
“Of course,” said Amanda, glancing at the dean. “Is now a good time?”
“It’s the only time,” said Professor Also. “I’m afraid I’m on my way out. I won’t be returning.”
“Come with me,” said Amanda, and led the history of detectives teacher to the dining room. On the way they passed Professor Pargeter.
“Honoria, Miss Lester is about to give me a sneak peek of her new film. Would you like to join us?”
Professor Pargeter looked skeptical. “I was just leaving, Winnie. I don’t think—”
“Nonsense,” said Professor Also. “Two seconds. She’s terrific.”
“Very well,” said Professor Pargeter with no enthusiasm whatsoever, and followed the two down the hall.
They sat down at Amanda and Holmes’s table and Amanda started rolling her rough cut. She had managed to patch in the first and third of Ivy’s songs but not the second one.
“It’s not finished,” she said as the teachers watched.
“We can visualize,” said Professor Pargeter ungraciously.
As the film played, several people came up to the table and looked to see what was going on, including Professors Peaksribbon and Stegelmeyer. Soon there was a crowd. By the time the film had finished, Professor Also was humming along with the music and Professor Pargeter was sniffling. Everyone clapped and Amanda beamed.
Then Professor Pargeter got up and said, “Well done, Miss Lester. But futile. We’re leaving.”
“I’m afraid she’s right,” said Professor Peaksribbon. He seemed so sad. “Nicely done, though.”
Everyone filed out of the room and Amanda was left sitting alone. Holmes came in and sat across from her.
“It didn’t work,” she said, her voice catching.
“We tried,” he said, placing his hand on hers. She jumped. She didn’t dare reciprocate but she didn’t want to ask him to move. “We tried really hard.”
“Yes. It was good, wasn’t it?” Her hand was shaking. She was sure he could tell.
“It was the best thing I’ve ever seen, Amanda.” He was smiling. Please don’t look at our hands. I can’t—I just can’t.
Amanda’s phone rang. She was so relieved she wanted to whoop. Holmes removed his hand so she could answer.
It was Mr. Onion. “Guess what,” he said. The line was terrible.
“I’m fresh out of guesses,” she said, holding up a finger so Holmes wouldn’t leave. As long as he didn’t get too close, she wanted him to stay. Maybe he would tell her that the film had worked after all, that the teachers had been so moved that they’d changed their minds. That everything would go back to the way it was. “Tell me.”
“Doodle is out,” said Mr. Onion.
“Excuse me?”
“Doodle—the warden,” he said in a louder voice. “He’s been transferred. The new warden says it’s okay to give Manny a guitar.”
Great. Couldn’t he have transferred in a week ago? “We don’t need him anymore.”
“What’s that?” the lawyer said. Static crackled through the line.
“Manny. We found Blixus. We don’t need him.” She was practically yelling. Holmes started to laugh and she broke into a grin. Why couldn’t the two of them be like this all the time?
“Where is Blixus then?” said Mr. Onion. She could hardly understand him with all that background noise.
“I, uh, I don’t know.”
“But you just said you found him.”
“We did. He ran away.”
“I can’t hear you, Amanda. Did you just say he ran away?”
There was a huge burst and Amanda had to move the phone away from her ear. She waited a moment. Holmes shrugged.<
br />
“Yes, he ran away,” she yelled into the phone.
Suddenly the static was gone. ‘Then you do need him,” said the lawyer. “Manny. You still need him.”
“I guess we do after all. Do you really think he would know, though? Blixus has gone, uh, underground. They might not be in communication.”
“It can’t hurt to try. Tomorrow at 9:00? I’ll pick you up. That enough time to find an instrument?”
“More than enough,” she said. “See you then.”
“What was all that about?” said Holmes when she’d hung up.
“I’m going to prison,” she said. “Again.”
After Amanda had phoned Ivy and asked if she could borrow her guitar, she turned to Holmes and said, “There’s something I don’t understand.” She was starting to believe that there was nothing he didn’t know—just like his ancestor. But this Holmes was different. He wasn’t smug.
“What’s that?”
“Why purple?”
“You mean why were the rainbows purple?”
“Yes.”
He sat back and thought a moment. “Purple doesn’t have its own wavelength. It’s a combination of red and blue, short and long wavelengths. It isn’t part of the spectrum.”
This was interesting. She knew a lot about color and wavelengths from all the film lighting she did. She’d even fiddled around trying to make different shades of purple light. What she didn’t understand was why a pure color wouldn’t have worked just as well.
“Why does that matter?” she said. “That purple isn’t its own color.”
“There’s a theory that some non-spectral-colored light can be used as a sort of x-ray to detect hidden structures,” he said. “Hugh must have discovered that purple light works well to find gold, or quartz, or both. Purple is harder to work with than spectral colors, though. You have to get just the right proportions. That may be why he was experimenting so much.”
Amanda Lester, Detective Box Set Page 105