The Power Within

by H. K. Varian

  Prologue

  Bzzz.

  Though Darren Smith had finally fallen asleep, and his phone barely made any noise as it buzzed, he bolted upright in bed, anyway, wide awake in an instant. Everything was blurry as he blinked his eyes, once, twice, and tried to focus on the blinding brightness of the screen so that he could read the text message. It was from his big brother, Ray, and just seeing Ray’s name made Darren feel better—for a second, anyway.

  D, What’s up? Just got your msg. I’m here

  Darren had been waiting half the night to hear back from Ray, but he couldn’t tell him everything over text. Darren didn’t know exactly what was going on—that was why he had contacted Ray in the middle of the night, after all—but he knew that it was too important for a text message.

  v-chat?

  logging on now

  Darren tucked his phone into his pillowcase and tiptoed out of his bedroom. It was still dark outside, but he glanced out the window, just in case Dad had come home in the night and he’d missed it.

  But Dad’s space in the driveway was still empty. In the dim glow of the streetlights, Darren could see that only Mom’s car was parked there.

  In the kitchen, Darren found Mom’s laptop on the table. He sneaked a glance over his shoulder, even though he was certain Mom was still asleep. If only my laptop hadn’t melted down . . . , he thought as he stifled a sigh. Then he would’ve been able to chat with Ray in his own room—instead of out here, in the open.

  Darren flipped up the screen and logged into his v-chat account. To his relief, Ray was already logged on. A warm smile filled Ray’s face as Darren opened the screen. Ever since Ray had moved out last year to start college at New Brighton University, Darren had missed him terribly. Not that he would ever admit it aloud—what would be the point? He didn’t want Ray to feel bad or anything. Besides, v-chatting was almost as good as getting to hang out with Ray in person.

  Almost.

  “Little D!” Ray said, his smile widening as he leaned back in his chair. “Sorry I missed your text last night. My psychology midterm is this morning, so I was in the quiet room of the library studying for most of the night. Let’s just say my floor mates are pretty much the opposite of quiet.”

  “The quiet room?” Darren repeated. He and his friend Fiona had been to New Brighton University’s library a few times since school had started, but he didn’t remember seeing a place called the quiet room.

  Ray nodded. “Yeah, it’s in the basement—a completely silent place for studying and schoolwork. You’re not even allowed to bring in your phone. You have to check it in at the front desk. So I didn’t even get your text until, like, four a.m. Otherwise, I would’ve been right on it. Anyway, what’s up?”

  Darren got right to the point. “Dad didn’t come home last night,” he said, lowering his voice. “Or the night before.”

  A look of surprise flickered across Ray’s face for half a second; then it smoothed out, as expressionless as a mask. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Maybe Dad was really busy at work and got home after you were asleep.”

  Darren shook his head. “I waited up both nights,” he said, stifling a yawn. “I mean, it’s not like the lab stays open twenty-four hours.”

  “True,” Ray said.

  “Besides, he’s not even home now,” added Darren. “Where would Dad go before six o’clock in the morning? I’m serious, Ray, I really don’t think he’s been home in”—Darren paused as his throat tightened; he swallowed hard, then continued—“two days.”

  “Did you ask Mom? What did she say?” Ray wanted to know.

  “She won’t tell me anything,” he said in frustration. “Just like all the times Dad has skipped dinner. She keeps acting like nothing’s wrong! Like I’m a little kid who’s totally oblivious!”

  Ray lifted a finger to his lips, and Darren realized that he was getting kind of loud. A quick glance over his shoulder assured him that Mom was still upstairs.

  “Do you think . . . ,” Darren began, almost afraid to say the words aloud. He forced himself to say it anyway. “Do you think they’re going to get divorced?”

  “Divorced? No,” Ray said—too quickly. “I mean, yeah, I can see why you might be worried about that. But I’m sure it’s not that serious. The point is, we don’t know anything for sure yet. Maybe Dad’s going through, like, a midlife crisis or something.”

  “You think so?” Darren asked as a note of hope crept into his voice.

  “Absolutely,” Ray said firmly. “Listen, I’ll come home next weekend. We’ll talk some sense into them.”

  Darren liked the sound of that; a weekend hanging out with Ray was just what he needed. Maybe the four of them could do something together—go to a football game or eat dinner at the Willow Cove Café, where Dad had proposed to Mom more than twenty years ago. Maybe that would help Mom and Dad remember what it felt like to be a family.

  Just then, Mom’s alarm started blaring. It was so loud that even Ray could hear it through their v-chat connection. “I see Mom still needs a foghorn to drag her out of bed,” he joked.

  “Pretty much,” Darren said. “I should go. Mom wouldn’t be happy to see me using her laptop.”

  “Hang in there, D,” Ray told him. “And remember, everything’s going to work out just fine. It always does.”

  “Thanks, Ray,” replied Darren. “Good luck with your midterm. Talk to you soon.”

  Then Darren ended their v-chat session. He was about to close Mom’s laptop when, all of a sudden, something caught his eye. Mom had left her Internet browser open—and Darren could see the websites she had been looking at before going to bed.

  He knew he shouldn’t go digging through his mom’s stuff. He didn’t even mean to look. It was just that the words on the screen—the worst words he’d ever read—jumped out at him before he even had a chance to realize what he was doing.

  Jessup, Jessup, & Crumm

  DIVORCE ATTORNEYS

  Willow Cove · Middletown · New Brighton

  Darren’s throat felt all tight, as if it were being squeezed by a boa constrictor. All the reassurance he’d felt from his chat with Ray disappeared in an instant. Because if Mom was searching for divorce lawyers, that told Darren everything he needed to know, didn’t it?

  Almost against his will, Darren’s eyes glanced over at the next tab. He didn’t think it was possible, but that site was even worse: a whole page of apartment listings in New Brighton. From the map on the screen, Darren could tell they were all just a few blocks away from New Brighton University, where Mom worked as a chemistry professor. Darren remembered, all of a sudden, how much Mom disliked the nearly hour-long commute each way, especially when she was running an experiment late into the night.

  Shut it down, Darren told himself, but he wasn’t entirely sure if he meant the laptop or his racing thoughts, which were only making him feel worse with every passing second. He closed the computer and bolted away from the kitchen table. It was impossible to believe that just a few minutes ago, Ray was telling him that maybe Mom and Dad could work it out. That maybe everything would be okay.

  Now, though, Darren realized that things were so much worse than he could even bear to admit. Sharp, bright sparks crackled down his fingers, but Darren barely noticed them. There was a time, not so long ago, when the truth about himself was the biggest thing on his mind. After all, not every twelve-year-old had to deal with finding out he was actually a Changer: a shape-shifter with the ability to transform into a mythological animal, able to wield stunning and unexpected powers. As an impundulu Changer, Darren could transform into a massive bird, control storms, create lightning, and even fly. As the sparks at his fingertips intensified, joining together to create thin, crackling bolts of lightning, Darren’s po
wers were the least of his worries.

  For now.

  Chapter 1

  A New Mission

  In a small house across town, Mack Kimura sat across from his grandfather, Jiichan, for breakfast. As usual, Jiichan had prepared a simple Japanese breakfast for them: fluffy steamed rice, scrambled eggs, and a perfectly ripe banana—not to mention two fragrant cups of steaming green tea. But today, there was a big difference. Mack was surprised to also discover a bowl of cornflakes at his place.

  “What’s this?” he asked. “No anchovies? No porridge? No miso soup?”

  Jiichan pretended not to hear him as he lifted a silvery anchovy to his mouth. Mack tried to hide his smile but couldn’t quite manage it. For months, Mack and Jiichan had disagreed on just about everything—from what constituted appropriate breakfast foods to Mack’s name. Jiichan had insisted on calling him Makoto, while Mack preferred his more American-sounding nickname. Sometimes, it seemed like they couldn’t agree on anything.

  Then, on the first day of school, things had changed forever.

  That’s when Mack had learned a shocking truth about himself: he wasn’t just an average, ordinary kid like he’d always thought. Instead, Mack was a Changer. As a kitsune, he had the rare ability to turn himself into a magical fox with a ton of otherworldly powers.

  And Mack wasn’t alone. A few other kids at Willow Cove Middle School—Gabriella Rivera, Fiona Murphy, and Darren Smith—were Changers too, though each one was a different kind of shape-shifter. In a special class at the end of each school day, they honed their skills and learned how to control their powers—something that was easier said than done. Their teacher, Ms. Dorina Therian, was a werewolf Changer. She was also one of the First Four, an incredibly powerful group of Changers who have led Changer-kind for more than a thousand years. To Mack’s complete amazement, he had discovered that his own grandfather was one of the First Four too. A kitsune, like Mack.

  At first, Mack thought that Jiichan would be able to tell him exactly how to use his kitsune powers. But Jiichan refused, even though Mack was struggling terribly. He knew that Mack needed to figure it out for himself. But when an evil warlock, Auden Ironbound, attacked Willow Cove by using the Horn of Power to control all the adult Changers, it was up to Mack and his friends to stop him. Using their unique powers, Mack, Gabriella, Darren, and Fiona had dealt Auden a serious setback and nearly destroyed the Horn of Power, too, in their first-ever battle. Best of all, Mack and Jiichan had started to understand each other a little better—which made life easier for both of them.

  “So, I guess I’ll be seeing you in Changers class later,” Mack said. “Ms. Therian said that the First Four are coming to class today.”

  A somber expression settled over Jiichan’s wrinkled face. “Yes,” he said. “Makoto, what I am about to say is very important.”

  Mack shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He could guess what was coming next: a lecture. A few weeks ago, Mack and his friends had directly disobeyed the First Four by going on a secret mission to retrieve a powerful, magical relic, Circe’s Compass, from the bottom of the ocean—and the First Four were not happy about it. Even though the mission had been, for the most part, a success, there had been even more danger involved when some of Auden Ironbound’s followers had attacked Mack and his friends. Luckily, they were able to protect Circe’s Compass, but the First Four didn’t like being disobeyed.

  “You are old enough to understand that trust, once broken, is hard to mend,” Jiichan continued. “Though Yara and I believed you capable in retrieving Circe’s Compass, Ms. Therian and Sefu were very concerned with how you went off on your own. You broke their trust, but the First Four have collectively deemed it appropriate to assign you another mission.”

  Mack sat up straighter. That was not what he expected Jiichan to say. “But I thought—” he began.

  Jiichan held up his hand to quiet Mack; he wasn’t done yet. “It is no secret that the First Four are not entirely unified about the best approach to your training,” he said. “Yara and I are quite convinced of your abilities. But Sefu . . .”

  “Isn’t,” Mack finished for him.

  “That’s not what I was going to say,” Jiichan replied. “You must learn patience, Makoto. It is as important as anything else I could hope to teach you.”

  “Sorry,” Mack apologized.

  “Sefu is worried about the four of you. He fears that your confidence will obscure your judgment. We are well aware that you—all of you—are brave beyond measure,” the old man said. “It is only a matter of time before your learned skills match your inherent abilities. What Sefu worries about is the time in between—when you are yet inexperienced in the ways of Changer life; when you are more vulnerable to the dark forces at play in our world.”

  Mack opened his mouth to argue—he would never be vulnerable to Auden Ironbound or his goons; Mack was sure of it—but he caught himself just in time.

  “There is no shame in knowing your limits and trusting your allies,” Jiichan continued. “It is a sign of strength to ask for help. Even to refuse a mission if it is beyond your capabilities. Do you understand what I am trying to say?”

  “Um . . . I think so,” Mack said, choosing his words carefully. The truth was, Jiichan’s words were almost incomprehensible to him. Say no to a mission? Not in this lifetime, Mack thought. He couldn’t imagine anything that would stop him from battling Auden Ironbound whenever he had the chance.

  From the way his grandfather looked at him, Mack suspected that Jiichan already knew that.

  “Know your strengths and your limits, and never be afraid to call on an ally when in need,” Jiichan said with such a piercing look in his eyes that Mack had to look away.

  Luckily for Mack, he heard the rumble of the school bus just then. He shoveled two bites of cornflakes into his mouth as he stood up abruptly. “Gotta go,” he said, still not meeting Jiichan’s eye. “I’ll see you this afternoon, Jiichan.”

  “Yes,” Jiichan said evenly. “Have a good day, Makoto.”

  When Mack climbed onto the school bus a couple minutes later, his best friend, Joel Hastings, had saved him a seat, like always.

  “Did you finish it?” Joel asked impatiently before Mack even had a chance to sit down. “Did you?”

  That was all Joel had to say for Mack to know what he was talking about: the latest issue of their favorite comic, Agent Underworld, which had gone on sale just twenty-four hours before.

  “Of course I did,” Mack replied.

  Joel clutched his chest and flopped back against the seat. “Killer, right?” he groaned. “I can’t believe they’re going to leave us in suspense like that!”

  “I can,” Mack said with a laugh. “You never know if Agent Underworld is going to survive at the end of each issue. That’s how the whole series is written. But trust me, he’s going to be just fine. I mean, the series is named after him! They’re not exactly going to kill him off.”

  “You don’t know that,” Joel protested. “What if they do kill him off and somebody new becomes Agent Underworld in his place? It won’t be the same!”

  “That’s why they won’t kill him off . . . not for real, anyway,” Mack pointed out. Still, he had to wonder what Agent Underworld—or any other superhero—would do if he or she ever did meet his or her match. Jiichan’s words were still in his mind as he turned to Joel and asked, “What do you think would happen if Agent Underworld didn’t have what it takes to battle Captain Corpse?”

  Joel blinked. “But you just said—”

  “I know, I mean hypothetically,” Mack cut him off. “Superhero stories are all pretty much the same at their core, right?”

  “Actually—” Joel began.

  “Hear me out,” Mack continued in a rush. “These stories—they’re almost always about a hero who pushes himself or herself to the absolute limit and ends up saving the day. But what would happen if a superhero’s best wasn’t, you know, good enough?”

  Joel nodded knowingly.
“That’s when superhero teams come in,” he said.

  “You think?” asked Mack.

  “Definitely,” Joel replied. “Crossovers, superspecials, that kind of thing. When one hero can’t beat an enemy, his friends will always pitch in to help.”

  “Strength in numbers?” said Mack.

  “Exactly,” Joel said. “That actually reminds me of how everything went down in Extreme Marauders. . . .”

  Joel was still chattering nonstop about Extreme Marauders as the bus pulled up to Willow Cove Middle School. When he noticed Fiona Murphy waiting at Mack’s locker, though, Joel gave Mack a nudge. “Nice,” he said with a goofy grin on his face.

  “Are you serious?” Mack said, shoulder-checking Joel. “Fiona is just my friend, idiot.”

  “Sure,” Joel replied, still grinning. “If you say so.” Then he punched Mack in the arm and headed off toward his own locker.

  “Hey,” Mack said as he approached Fiona.

  “Happy Monday,” she replied, shifting the heavy stack of books in her arms. Fiona wasn’t one to be seen without a few books in hand, but Mack knew why she was lugging them around instead of carrying them in her backpack. Fiona’s backpack was where she kept her most precious possession: her selkie cloak. Without her cloak, Fiona would lose the ability to transform into a seal. Someone had hidden the cloak from Fiona long ago, when she was just a little baby; after she had found it a few months ago, she vowed to never be separated from it again. Since then, Fiona had been extra gentle with her cloak—she didn’t like to cram too many things into her backpack with it.

  Thinking about Fiona’s selkie cloak reminded Mack of something he’d been meaning to ask her. With a quick glance around to make sure no one was close enough to hear their conversation, Mack leaned over to Fiona. “I’ve been wondering—did the First Four find any selkies for you to talk to?”

  Fiona sighed. “No, not yet,” she replied. “I know they’re working on it. The problem is that selkies disappear way out to sea for months—even years—at a time. That makes them almost impossible to contact.”