I think of the princess in her white kimono. I can’t explain why, but I know I have to go to her. Just like I know I have to get my grandmother her muscle cream when she is aching. My parents would want me to.
I shrug. “It must be important. She’s the dream keeper.”
“More like dream hoarder,” Peyton says. He and Jinx exchange a meaningful glance.
“What, are you in love with her?” Jinx narrows her eyes.
My face gets hot. “No.”
Peyton dissolves into giggles, standing on one leg as he covers his mouth with his hand. “Oh snap. Look at his face. Jinx is right.”
I press my temples with my fingers. “Guys, it is most definitely one hundred percent not like that.” I sigh. “If you saw, like, a tiger caught in a trap, wouldn’t you help it?”
Peyton cocks his head at me, thinking. “Depends on whether it would eat me after I got it out.”
“You’d let it out!” I explode. “You’re just being difficult.” I’ve had it. I leave them alone for, like, two days—which apparently is, like, two minutes in this land—and they’ve turned into some kind of anti-Xander coalition. I turn and start walking away. “I’ll go by myself if you guys won’t come.”
“Okay, then.” Jinx speaks first, to my amazement. “Let’s do it.”
“Wait. You’re agreeing with me?” I clutch my heart.
“Let’s hurry up before I change my mind.” Jinx pats the baku on the back. “Take us, Baku.”
Peyton shakes his head. “Well, I can’t say this will be the best thing that’s happened on this trip. But it beats sitting around on a mountaintop waiting for you.”
The baku takes off, and we follow.
She lopes like a miniature raging elephant and goes straight off the cliff again. Before Jinx and Peyton have a chance to think about it, I jump after her, and they follow like lemmings. How completely bizarre we must look, just leaping into the darkness. But we land on our feet and keep running.
The baku’s heading up the hill. Back to the peak? No, toward the setting moon. It’s so close I can see the craters. Maybe even a little city, with ant-like people moving around.
Unless that’s a real city. Which, in this dream world, it might well be.
A thick beam of white light shoots out of the moon like a bridge toward the earth, ending at least two stories above the ground. We stand looking up at it. “How’re we going to get up there?” I say. The baku leaps into the sky and lands on the foot of the bridge. She turns to us and bleats.
“Come on!” Jinx does a running jump like the baku’s, but she falls about twenty feet short of the bridge. It might as well be an airplane zooming away. “Dang it!”
“We need some pixie dust.” I crane my neck, assessing the distance. “And happy thoughts.”
“That’s definitely not going to work for me,” Jinx says.
“Seriously?” Peyton points to his wings. “You think these things are just for show?” Peyton wraps an arm around each of our waists.
“Are you sure you’re well enough?” Jinx gives him an alarmed look. “The last thing we need is for you to overexert yourself.”
“Only one way to find out.” Peyton grins. He flaps his powerful wings, sending leaves and grass flying around us, then does a squat and pushes off the ground, launching himself into the air.
The wind whooshes around us as the ground zooms away. “Guess he’s all better!” I shout to Jinx, who has her eyes scrunched closed. I reach over and poke her. “Are you scared?”
“What, are you afraid I’ll do something like this?” Peyton loosens his hand so she slips down an inch. She screams and grabs at his chest. But I have my eyes open, so I can see that his bicep is still firmly around her waist.
“Don’t do that ever again!” Jinx yells at him when we land on a smooth white dock. She pushes him away and runs over to the baku.
“I was only kidding around,” Peyton says, smiling.
“Yeah, and I thought monkeys enjoy swinging through the air,” I add.
“You two are children.” Jinx sniffs, patting the baku’s head. The creature bleats nervously. “Come on, let’s get this over with already.”
Jinx walks to a set of steep white stairs. It goes up five flights or so to what looks like a medieval Japanese fortress, with swooping rooflines and stone walls, only it’s all white. I hope nobody pours boiling oil over the walls to keep us out. I glance back over the stair railing once and immediately regret it—the earth’s looking awfully far away.
We don’t have time to gawk at our surroundings, because the baku is hurtling up the stairs at top speed. We just follow, our legs and arms pumping, until we reach the fortress’s outer wall and its gate, jaws of white wrought iron thirty feet high. Fortunately, the gate is open.
We stop and stand to the left, where we can’t be seen by anyone inside the fortress. I look around. The earth (or ground, I guess—should I call it moon?) is white, too, like powdered sugar. Grass and low bushes grow here and there, everything looking like it’s been coated in a thick layer of white paint.
A figure comes through the fortress opening. It’s a man, his skin, hair, and clothes as white as marshmallows, too. He’s pushing a huge wheelbarrow full of white flowers that ripple like seaweed in water.
I creep up to the gate opening and peer inside. There’s a large town square with a fountain in the middle spouting white water. People are going about their day, pushing wheelbarrows or leading horse-drawn wagons over the cobblestones, chasing screaming children, setting up stalls to sell their goods. It all looks totally normal, except there are no cars and, of course, everything and everyone is the color of chalk.
I wonder if they’re actual people, or some kind of dream figments. Well, even if they’re not real, I don’t want to stand out. The baku bleats at us nervously and starts moving inside, but I hold up my hand. “Wait. We don’t know what’s in there. Or who. We should sneak in.”
“How can we possibly pass when the people are all washed out?” Jinx whispers. “We’d stick out like flies on rice.”
“Not to mention the fact that some of us have wings.” Peyton peers in over our heads.
They’re being such naysayers. “Let’s figure it out.” I examine the ground again, the powdery substance that’s apparently moon dirt, then pick up a handful and rub it over my hand. It covers my skin like face powder. Inspired, I rub it all over me, in my hair, on my face, over my clothes. “How do I look?”
“Like you’ve got sunblock all over your face.” Peyton scoops up some moon dirt. “You missed a spot.” He slaps it directly over my eyes and nose.
I cough. “Thanks a lot.”
“I couldn’t let you leave your eyelids exposed,” Peyton says practically.
“It looks lame.” Jinx shakes her head, her eyes narrowing. “This is never going to work.”
I put my hands on my hips. “I’m open to other ideas.”
She sighs, then grabs some dirt and covers herself, too.
“That stuff’s not exactly going to solve my problem.” Peyton flexes his wings.
He’s right. I peer into the fortress again. A man has abandoned his wheelbarrow full of fruit to run after a small white chicken. Perfect! “Wait here,” I whisper.
Before anyone can say anything, I dash over to the wheelbarrow and take its handles. Quickly, I push it over to Peyton.
“What’re we doing with that?” Jinx picks up a star fruit and sniffs it. “Mmm. Smells like celery.”
I start digging a well in the pile of fruit. “Peyton, you’re going to hide in here.”
Peyton rubs his hands together. “A plan. I like it.” He folds his wings flat against his back and contorts his body to burrow under the star fruit. We toss the rest on top of him until he’s completely covered. We stick our backpacks and my sword and helmet in there, too. This will put me at a disadvantage, but what else am I supposed to do? With them, I’d be more out of place than a shark in a koi pond. The white stuff won’t stick to the meta
l, and nobody else here has a gleaming weapon. “You okay?” I ask Peyton.
His hand shoots out from the fruit. Thumbs up.
Then Jinx picks up the handles and with a grunt, lifts the wheelbarrow. The baku sighs in relief, walking straight in. We follow, trying to look as casual as possible. I wonder if the baku’s going to stick out—she’s not powdery white—but the townspeople don’t give her a second look.
Beyond the fountain is a large, official-looking, fancy building with a curved roof. I assume this is the princess’s palace. The baku makes a beeline toward it.
We pass through the crowds unnoticed. I try not to look anyone in the face, and I also try not to be obvious about not looking anyone in the face. That would also be suspicious. The people chatter away in a language I don’t understand. It sounds like “Glibbedty gibbety gob,” and I really hope nobody strikes up a conversation with me. “Do you know what they’re saying?” I whisper to Jinx.
“No,” Jinx says, panting a little. “It’s all I can do to schlep this heavy thing.”
“I heard that,” Peyton says from under the fruit.
“Shut up, guys,” I hiss. I take one of the wheelbarrow handles to help Jinx.
Finally, we reach the palace and stop. Fifteen wide stone steps lead up to its front gate.
“Think there’s a delivery entrance around back?” I ask Jinx.
“I don’t know, and I’m not going to bother to look,” she says. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Okay,” I say, “but this isn’t going to be easy….”
I lift the front of the wheelbarrow, and Jinx lifts the back. Whomp. Whomp. Whomp. It comes down hard on every step. We carefully make our way up. Sweat breaks out on my forehead, and I feel the white dirt streaming down my face. Great. By the time we get all the way up, I’ll probably be Xander-colored again.
The palace gates, more white wrought iron, are flanked by twenty-foot-tall white columns topped with ornate carvings of white dragons. When we arrive there, I hesitate, expecting to find guards, but no one is around, and the gates are unlocked.
We push the gate open and enter a courtyard. A single wishing well sits off to the side, along with some white bonsai trees and a white stone bench. Tall sliding doors surround us, as though every room in the palace opens up to this outdoor space. Above those are arched windows with no glass in them. The openings look big enough for Peyton to squeeze through.
It’s completely silent and deserted. I’ve never been in a palace before, but shouldn’t there always be people hanging around doing stuff?
My skin prickles. I may not have Momotaro power anymore, but I still have natural instincts. “Something isn’t right,” I mutter.
The baku presses herself against the wall, her eyes rolling back so the whites show. Behh, she bleats. She’s scared.
I squat. “Peyton,” I say into the star fruit, “we’re going to leave you here. I want you to wait, like, five minutes. Then get out and fly into one of the windows. Got it?”
Again his hand appears, this time proffering my sword. I grab the hilt. I’ll take that as a yes.
I square my shoulders. “Take us inside, Baku.”
The baku’s breath comes hot and fast on my arms as we creep through the courtyard. Huuuuu huuuuu huuuu, she sounds.
“If anything happens, take the baku and run,” I whisper to Jinx. No sense in her getting hurt.
Jinx nods, her expression grim, her eyes narrowed. “Act normal.” She straightens her shoulders and walks toward the front door of the palace.
How do we know what normal is for people who live on the moon? I want to ask her.
We get to the wishing well, the wall surrounding it about four feet high and made of marble slabs. Above the opening, a large white metal bucket dangles from a rope and a crank. Standing guard on the ledge is a gold dragon statue, with faceted diamond-like eyes. It’s the only non-white thing, besides the baku, in the whole place. Which makes it suspicious. I grip my sword tighter, waiting for the dragon to spring to life.
“Xander!” I hear a voice coming from deep inside the well. “Xander, help me!”
Kaguya? I lean over and peer into the water.
Nothing but my reflection, fifteen feet down. “Princess?” I say as quietly as I can, wondering if her face will poke up through the liquid.
No answer.
As I straighten, something about the size of a large cat falls off the roof onto my head, scratching my scalp. I see a flash of red—a tail? Not wanting to decapitate myself, I drop my sword and reach up with both hands to grab the creature. The oni scorpion! It bites my fingers with its disgusting human teeth, and I punch it, accidentally knocking myself in the skull. “Get off me!”
Then Jinx is there, swiping it off me and stabbing it with her dagger. Yellow blood spurts out, sizzling as it lands on the marble well.
Hissing, the scorpion smacks her in the chest with its stinger, like a battering ram. She’s flung backward to the well, and she tips over the side headfirst.
Splash!
“No! Jinx!” I yell, but the scorpion stings me, right in the spine, and suddenly I can’t move. Its human face licks its lips, moving its head back and forth as if deciding how it’s going to eat me. “Well!” I manage to get out, for Peyton’s benefit. I hope he hears me. But maybe he’ll just think we’re well.
I hear the creaking of a wheelbarrow nearby. Is it Peyton? No. As the scorpion drags me by the collar across the courtyard, I catch sight of a little black imp pushing the cart. The imp looks like a reddish-black monkey with leathery scales and short wings. It’s skipping along and singing as it goes, revealing sharp fangs.
The scorpion keeps a tight grip on me with its claw. Luckily I’m so numb I can’t feel a thing. Finally, it flings me into a room inside the palace, and I hear it scuttle off. Guess I’m not on the menu after all—for now, at least.
My cheek’s lying on a piece of marble so clean Obāchan would approve of my eating off of it. I look around—with my eyeballs only, since the rest of me can’t move. A shiny white throne perches atop a platform, with five steps leading up to it.
On this throne sits a man I’ve never seen before. He’s cradling the baku, who hangs in his arms as limply a rag doll, her eyes darting around in terror as the man pets her.
This man looks to be well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders, muscular arms, and the erect posture of a dancer. His black hair shines, and his skin is prettier than my mom’s when she has on makeup. With his luminous blue eyes, black open-collared shirt, and tight black jeans, he looks like he stepped off the cover of one of Obāchan’s romance novels.
There’s nothing overtly evil about his appearance—he’s not snorting fire or dripping slime or anything—but when I look at him, I feel like I’m staring into a black hole in outer space, something that will rip me apart from the inside. His gaze is as blank as an empty computer screen.
“At least you’re perceptive.” The man’s sonorous tone rings out across the room, a pleasant baritone, like a radio announcer. He gently moves the baku to an armrest, then crosses his legs languidly and balances a tall silver scepter in the middle of his palm as though he’s doing some circus act. “Which is more than I can say for your predecessors.” He circles his palm around, his eyes never leaving mine.
Who is he? The king of the moon? That seems wrong. “Where is she?” I croak hoarsely. “Just let the princess go, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Oh, Momotaro-chan.” The man chuckles. Now I see that what he’s balancing on his hand is not a scepter at all, but a sword.
My sword.
I swallow. This is not boding well for me. “Who are you?” I ask, but I don’t have to. I already know.
The oni king, Ozuno.
At the thought of his name, I feel a quick surge of excitement, as though I’ve just won a really difficult video game. But the emotion feels wrong, like it did when I was happy about tripping my mother.
Ozuno laughs again, as
though he’s reading my thoughts. “Like I said, perceptive. Better than the last Momotaro, who was so weak he was hardly worth challenging.”
Is he talking about my father? The excitement fizzles out.
Ozuno puts my sword down on the floor and crosses the room, reaching my head in two quick steps. He leaves the baku on the throne, as still as a statue.
“Baku,” I whisper, hoping she’s okay. I think I see her blink.
“Don’t worry about that creature.” Ozuno squats next to me, regarding my face intently. Like how my mother looked at me when she got home. I shudder. He brushes the hair off my forehead, the way Dad might, but this feels like cockroaches are scuttling over my scalp. I want to scream, to run, but I can’t. “Precious one,” he says softly. “Dear one. I’m so glad you chose to come here.”
I jerk my head away. “Stop.”
“Relax, Xander. See? I lifted some of your paralysis. I’m your friend.” He takes my hand in his, which is as soft and smooth as a leather glove, and helps me sit up.
I force myself to meet his dead eyes. “I’m here to rescue the princess, not because I want to hang out with you.”
A thought occurs to me. The baku led me here. Maybe she’s in on this. Maybe the princess is actually evil, too.
The king chuckles, leaning back so hard that he almost falls over. “It’s so cute that you think you can rescue Kaguya on your own, without your powers. Against me.”
My lips burn. “Well, you know how crazy we Momotaro are. You’ve never won yet, have you?”
A flash of real anger passes over his face, but he quickly suppresses it. “This is true. But you’re here to remedy that.”
Uh-oh.
A muffled sound comes from under the throne. A pair of frightened eyes peers at me from under the foot.
The princess.
I look back at Ozuno, who is studying my face with the same kind of amused expression I have when Inu’s trying to work a piece of meat out of his treat puzzle. “An agreement,” Ozuno says. “I help you, and you help me.”
Ha. That’s a laugh. “I’ll never help you.”
“Really, Xander?” Ozuno presses his lips together in a pout. “Why, you don’t even know me. How can you judge?” He leans forward. “I help you, you help me. Simple.” His breath is surprisingly minty fresh. His teeth are so perfect they look fake. “I have your dreams. I have everyone’s dreams, in fact, because I have the princess.” He speaks in the tone of a parent soothing a wailing baby.
Xander and the Dream Thief Page 20