It was halfway between him and Zachariah, who was back on his feet. The Calebra squealed like it had just been neutered.
“What is that thing?” Zachariah yelled from across the way. He formed a shield as well.
Mike realized Zachariah had never seen anything like it. Which meant he didn’t know how dangerous it truly was.
“Go get the Guardians!” Mike called. He pointed to the end of the hallway. “The cameras are out!”
The Calebra darted back and forth, head whipping back and forth, apparently trying to decide who was an easier target. Its eyes were repulsive – yellow, bulging, different sizes… Mike smelled decaying flesh, and for a moment, bile rose in his chest, threatening to explode out his esophagus. He forced it back down.
“I’ll get that thing, you go get the Guardians!” Zachariah said.
Mike wanted to strangle the kid. Just like in the park, this was not the time to get into a power struggle. Then Mike noticed Zachariah had one hand on the shield, one hand on his neck. Had he been bitten? What would happen to someone who was bitten by a Calebra? Was it a vampire-type thing? Or more like a dog-bite, where the worst thing you could get was a shot in your stomach to stop the rabies or whatever…
Mike fired telekinesis at the creature, but his attack was off the mark. Zachariah had grabbed a lighter from inside his pants pocket – that was a good idea, Mike had to get one of those – and fired as well. The creature jumped out of the way with incredible speed, ricocheting off the walls like a pinball. Zachariah’s pyrokinesis collided with a strewn t-shirt and exploded into flame.
“What are you doing?” Mike yelled.
The Calebra spun off the wall and rocketed in Zachariah’s direction. Mike heard a whoosh of flame as Zachariah fired again. This fireball shot over Mike’s shield and straight past his ear. He jerked out of the way and watched the flames collide with the wall at the far end of the room. Paint peeled off and started burning on the floor.
When Mike turned back, he saw Zachariah engaged with a twirling ball of orange and black. He could see the Calebra’s method of attack clearly now. The creature remained spinning the entire time, once in a while extending a claw or a mouth to bite, but always moving at astonishing speed. Zachariah kept his shield pressed against his body, flailing uselessly at the creature with his other arm. He fired more flames from overhead, but that missed and started another fire on a pair of jeans.
“Zachariah, you’re gonna burn us in here!” Mike’s body was slick with sweat. His breaths were coming in more laborious patterns now, as the hallway was starting to fill with smoke. He fired more telekinesis, but one of them inadvertently hit Zachariah’s shield, causing him to stagger backwards. The Calebra seized the opportunity and pounced, coming out of its spin and sinking its teeth into Zachariah’s arm. Zachariah screamed, and his shield disappeared.
“Help, somebody!” Mike yelled desperately above noise of the flames and Zachariah’s howling. He fired again at the Calebra and connected, detaching the creature from Zachariah’s arm. Blood squirted out of a hole the size of a dime. Zachariah fell to his knees, holding his bloody arm with his other hand.
The fire alarm rang out, compounding the noise in the hallway. Mike couldn’t hear, he couldn’t think – his only instinct was to shoot with one arm and hold his shield in the other. By now the Calebra had shaken off the effects of Mike’s telekinesis and skirted out of the way to reroute its attack towards Mike, like a boxer dancing around a woozy opponent.
Zachariah was crawling on his knees, holding a t-shirt to his hemorrhaging arm. He made his way behind Mike, then pushed himself against the wall. He was coughing, too, and it occurred to Mike that even if the Calebra didn’t kill them, the smoke might—
Then, mercifully, the sprinkler system turned on. Mike went from coughing smoke to soaking wet as water poured on him from all over. Apparently this freaked out the Calebra, because instead of darting back and forth in a menacing way, it ran to the corner of the hallway and started clawing at the walls in an apparent effort to escape.
“Ohhhh, you don’t like water?” Mike teased from a distance. He couldn’t use his cryokinesis – he might freeze the entire building or something – but his telekinesis was just as useful. Mike focused on the water from all around and pushed it as hard as he could into the corner of the hallway. The Calebra flattened against the wall from the force of the liquid, trying desperately to squirm out of the way. Mike responded by gathering even more water – it was all around, so very easy – and applying even more force. The Calebra thrashed as if it was drowning…
Then, just as Mike thought he might kill it, he saw a flash of orange. The creature threw itself to the right and rolled in front of the door, skidding against the slick tile. Its eyes bore down on Mike as if he had just killed its litter.
Mike stood his ground, shield at the ready.
Then the door to the hallway flung open. It revealed Stockton in full Guardian garb, eyes angry, looking for someone to punish.
“Look out!” Mike called and pointed to the Calebra.
Stockton didn’t understand. He stared at Mike, transfixed, as if unable to understand why Mike was there. Then he looked down and caught sight of an orange and black creature that was about to pounce.
“Aaaarrrrggghhh!” Stockton jumped backwards and slammed the door closed, just as the Calebra launched its twirling, slashing body in the Magus’s direction. The creature crashed against the door and bounced off, its eyes darting back and forth through the rain.
“No, come back!” Mike wiped water from his eyes. It was now harder to see through the rain. He was dripping, the moisture chilling him. He had seen the Calebra bounce off the wall, but now he had lost it… he thought he had seen the creature fly into a room, but he couldn’t be sure… he searched wildly, his brain pounding…
Then the door opened again. Glass cracked from overhead, and whatever lights had illuminated that end of the hallway disappeared. Stockton came in with both hands holding multiple balls of electric energy, his eyes scanning the room wildly for his target.
The fire alarm wailed at a more fervent pace. “In there!” Mike yelled, pointing to his left. Stockton ran into the room. Mike heard discharges of energy and saw flashes of light.
Something grabbed Mike’s leg, and he jumped. Turning and looking down, he saw Zachariah lying on the floor.
Mike gasped.
Zachariah’s whole body had turned a pale mix of yellow and green. His arm was still bleeding heavily. He was drooling from the mouth, and his lips were insanely blue.
Hurrying, Mike grabbed Zachariah and lifted him in his arms. He yelped and almost dropped him.
Zachariah was crazy heavy.
There’s no way I can carry him all the way to the hospital wing!
Zachariah’s head flopped against Mike’s arm, eyes glazed over, his consciousness fading. Mike stumbled towards the door, almost twisting an ankle on a shoe, barely able to hold up Zachariah’s dead weight. Stockton’s weaponry roared off to the left. Mike’s headache pounded amidst the fire alarm. The sprinkler was still on, too, drenching him in freezing water, making the door seem miles away.
Finally, just as Mike felt Zachariah slipping, the door opened. Garzan entered the room just in time to catch Zachariah’s body as it fell out of his arms.
“What happened?” Garzan yelled as he supported Zachariah’s limp body with Mike’s help.
Two other Guardians appeared from behind the Headmage. “Calebra,” Mike spit out, jerking his head in the direction of Stockton’s battle.
“Here, get him to the hospital wing right away,” Garzan said as he and Mike passed an unconscious Zachariah to the two Guardians, who were significantly bigger than the Headmage. They carried Zachariah out without any trouble.
“There are girls in there,” Mike breathed. He bent over, hands on knees, his lungs still laboring from inhaling the smoke.
Garzan’s eyes went wide as they fell on the two limp bodies amongst the pi
les of clothing. He pressed his Amp and closed his eyes, then turned to Mike.
“Get out of here,” Garzan commanded, and Mike had no problem complying. He pulled open the wet hallway door and staggered down the stairs, careful not to slip.
As he reached the first floor, Annabella burst out of the hallway, followed by two girls Mike didn’t recognize.
“What happened, where is he?”
All of a sudden Mike felt completely and utterly exhausted, both mentally and physically. “He, we… we fought a Calebra. Zachariah got bit, they took him to the hospital wing.”
“What?” Annabella screeched, then turned on her heels and flew down the stairs, jumping two at a time. The girls followed her.
I’ve gotta get out of these clothes, Mike thought. He pulled off his soaking wet t-shirt, not caring that he was still in the girls’ dorms. Let them enjoy the show, if anyone’s still around. He slung the dripping t-shirt over his shoulder and ran a hand through his hair, effectively slicking it back.
After the day he’d just had, he was going to take the hottest shower of his life, and then he was going to pass out for a week.
Chapter Twenty Four
At ten o’clock the following morning, Mike gathered just outside the Headmage’s office with the whole raiding party. His plan to sleep late had been for naught, as the Headmage himself had roused the boys in the morning, summoning them to his office at the current time.
There was somber silence in the hall, each student almost afraid to talk, as if that would get them in even more trouble. Two of the students had already entered the veritable courtroom, and each had exited with their heads down, faces red, and mouths glued shut, as if the Headmage had forced them to swear not to repeat what was said. Toad had tried to ask one of the boys what had happened, but the kid said nothing, as if his ability to speak had been taken from him.
Which, needless to say, freaked Mike out just a little.
He wondered what the Headmage would say. Mike was sure this latest episode would only increase the scrutiny on him, from Stockton or otherwise. The spy had obviously been the one who’d snuck the Calebra past Windham’s defenses. What if they thought it was him? That could legit get him kicked out…
They wouldn’t… would they?
For the first time, Mike realized he didn’t want to leave.
Without Laura back in Queens – or his Mom, for that matter (man, he wished Garzan would update him on that) – Mike had nowhere to go. He had started to enjoy his new friends here, and of course all the magic stuff was wicked, badass, and every other cool adjective possible.
More than that, he felt like he belonged. Even though he was the descendant of the bad guy and all that. It felt… good, almost, to be in that role, to be the kid who could kick his bad-guy roots. For the first time in his life, he had something to aspire to. He had something to prove to everyone on staff.
Especially the Headmage. Who’d trusted him so much.
Jeez. I really let him down, didn’t I? Mike wondered if the Headmage would be there to save him the next time something crazy happened, like when he’d left Windham that first night.
Or, even worse – if the Headmage would want to save him.
The door opened and Aaron came out, bereft of any clear emotion. His eyes were blank, even though they were purple and pink. Mike started to wonder if Garzan was brainwashing them inside his office. That, or giving them the greatest guilt trip in the history of mankind.
“Next,” a voice said from inside the room. Mike forced himself forward, knowing that his day of reckoning lying just inside.
Garzan was sitting in the armchair behind his desk. His Amp lay on the mahogany desktop, next to a small instrument that looked like a miniature cheerleader’s horn. But the Headmage’s face was what got Mike’s attention; it was white and hollowed, as if the Headmage hadn’t slept in a week. Not nearly as stern and focused as Mike had seen him just an hour earlier, when the Headmage had done wakeup duty. And were there… tear marks running down his cheek?
“Sit down, Michael,” Garzan said as the door closed behind, his voice soft and broken, like an old man who’s learned his fifteen-year-old dog had just died.
Mike sat opposite the Headmage, totally shocked. This was not at all what he expected. He figured Garzan and Stockton would give him a lecture about raiding the girls, about using spells unnecessarily, about hiding things from the Guardians in the middle of a war. But this… this didn’t seem like that at all.
“How’s Zachariah?” Mike asked, hoping to lighten the mood a little bit.
Garzan produced a handkerchief and blew his nose into it. “He will live,” Garzan said plainly.
Well, that was positive.
“Any news on my mom?”
“Mister Prior,” Garzan said, folding the handkerchief and placing it in his pocket. “I will get straight to the point. Your continued bravery speaks volumes about your character. However, I must be thorough, and I therefore must apologize for the following procedure.” Garzan picked up the silver instrument. Then, as if he had changed his mind, he put it back on the table. His head sagged, and Mike thought he detected a hint of a cry.
“Headmage?” Mike had felt his spirits lift a little – Garzan hadn’t spoken like he was in trouble, after all, and he would’ve said something if his mom’s situation had worsened.
Garzan exhaled, then picked his head up. Tears were welling in his pure-blue eyes. “The two girls injured in last night’s attack may not live out the week, so I must do this in order to ensure the safety of my students. I apologize profusely.”
Mike wondered why the Headmage was apologizing so much, but that thought was overshadowed by the news about the two injured girls. There was a chance they wouldn’t survive? Seriously? The gravity of the whole situation slammed into Mike’s gut, and he felt his stomach turn. First Mrs. Jorisch, now the two girls… they were in real, real danger… this was an actual war, and actual war meant actual casualties…
Garzan lifted the instrument and put the narrow end to his eye, like it were a telescope. A small light appeared at the wide end of the tube.
Then Garzan’s office disappeared.
Instead Mike found himself standing outside on a large lawn surrounded by trees, not unlike those that surrounded Windham Manor. The sky was clear. Mike sensed something terribly wrong with the whole scene, aside from the fact that he had been transported from Garzan’s office without his consent. A fresh wind blew through the trees, carrying a scent of fir. Rays of sun beat down on his forehead.
A woman walked slowly towards him. She was crying softly, hands wrapped around a pink polka-dotted sleeveless dress. Something stirred in Mike’s memory, and he felt a sense of foreboding. Mike looked up at her from an oddly low vantage point. He wondered why he was so low down…
The woman looked exactly like his mother. A very young version of his mother. She came to a halt in front of Mike, then sat on the ground beside him. When she sat, her head was parallel to Mike’s. Her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks stained with tears.
Mom reached out her hand and caressed Mike’s cheek. He felt her warmth, her touch… what was going on…
“Oh, Mikey.”
Mom’s brow knotted and her eyes squinted, as if she was fighting off a bout of crying. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
Then, out of nowhere, Mike realized where he was. Something inside of him screamed, as if he knew what was coming… as if the memories were being reborn, the painful, horrible memories that had buried themselves…
“Mikey, Daddy’s not going to be around anymore…”
Mike felt his eyes flood with tears, and pain rippled inside his chest. But as soon as he wanted to release the emotion within, he was whisked away to another scene. The summer setting dissolved into a wooden bedroom. Mike looked down to see himself, dressed in wool footie-pajamas. He was curled up on the corner of his bed, sheets pulled up over his knees as if to protect himself. Smoke billowed in from und
erneath the door. Soot filled his eyes, and instantly Mike felt his lungs become parched, starving for air. Mike’s instincts told him to move, but his body did not respond, as if they were attached to another brain. Somehow he knew that his home had been attacked, but he didn’t know by who, and he didn’t know where his mother was. Mike heard himself scream his mother’s name involuntarily, over and over. He saw flashes of light out the window, and a lot of movement – men wearing black, fighting with each other. Mike was sweating, the heat was unbearable…
Then the door splintered as somebody kicked it in from the outside. A man in Guardian garb appeared, holding Mike’s mother, who was unconscious in his arms. Mike felt himself jump off the bed and run towards him. The Guardian extended an arm towards the wall, and the wood disintegrated. Cold, freezing air zoomed in to replace the soot and smoke. Snow clouded Mike’s eyes, and he shivered. But in a strange moment of clarity, Mike saw a scar on the face of his rescuer, stretching from his left eye all the way across his temple…
Then the freezing cold disappeared, and again Mike found himself transported to a new locale. He sat in a classroom surrounded by teenagers, staring at a distinguished-looking black man in a sweater. The man was giving some sort of lecture on Edgar Allen Poe.
All of a sudden, Mike’s mother burst into the classroom and grabbed Mike by the wrist.
“Mom, what are you doing?” Mike heard himself hiss.
The teacher said, “Excuse me, madam, but what is the meaning of this?”
But Mom said nothing. She dragged Mike out of the room, leaving behind his knapsack. Mike felt himself running to keep up with his mother, who was holding a firm grasp on his wrist. His face burned, not from fire, but from embarrassment…
Then the images sped up to a more rapid pace. He was lying on the concrete underneath a basketball hoop, his foot twisted backwards, pain shooting up his leg. Then he felt the pain disappear, and he was dressed in a sweatsuit, standing in a quik-e-mart. Mike slipped a candy bar into his pocket, only to be grabbed immediately on the wrist by a police officer. Somehow Mike remembered vividly how that had led to his departure in Miami. Then he was at a friend’s house in Chicago – he noticed the Cubs clock on the wall – when his mother burst into the room and hauled him into their Caravan. He felt his ears burn, and all he wanted to do was crawl into a cave and never come out. Then he was with Laura, sitting up on the lawn in Bryant Park in New York City, her head resting on his. They were watching a Marx Brothers movie. Laura laughed. Just as Mike felt himself enjoying that moment all over again, the picture broke once more. He was standing in Garzan’s office, looking at Steph. He watched her curl her hair behind her ear.
The Guardian Lineage Page 15