by Dan Jolley
Moving as fast and as quietly as he could, Gabe mounted the ladder, which soared up into total darkness. After two or three minutes that felt like ages, Gabe and his friends arrived at a narrow catwalk suspended far above the stage. It felt solid enough, and didn’t creak when he stepped on it, so Gabe crept out to the middle. If they were going to be stuck up here, he intended to get as good a view as he could. He had to avoid a number of tools and lights lying on the metal walkway; the last thing he needed was to knock something off and have it clang to the stage below. He wanted to tell his friends, “You don’t have to come out here with me if you don’t want to,” but he also didn’t want to risk being heard; and Lily, right behind him, showed no hesitation at all as she followed him out to a good vantage point.
Peering straight down, Gabe felt yet another gut-punch when he saw the large rectangular object being pushed onto the stage. It was a series of metal dog cages, piled onto a rolling platform. Frightened whimpering emanated from inside them. What are they going to do with those dogs? He was pretty sure he didn’t want to know—but he didn’t think he’d have a choice.
A black-cloaked man took the stage. His voice boomed out over the assembled audience. “Greetings, noble brethren. After over a hundred years of toil, dawn is breaking at last.” Gabe couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling. Oh, jeez, he sounds just like Jackson. “Finally, the Great Work is near completion. The crucial nature of this ritual cannot be overstated. Therefore, Primus herself shall lead it.”
At the name Primus, the crowd fell even more silent than it had been. Then they began to hum. Very softly, a deep, dark note that rolled out through the theater, a single tone of respect and reverence from a throng of voices. Gabe wondered if this was the Eternal Dawn’s version of a drumroll. Whatever it was, it made him want to stick ice picks in his ears.
A woman in the same kind of black, hooded cloak slowly, majestically mounted the stairs to the stage. Her robe was embroidered with more gold than the others. The humming continued until she reached the stage’s center and faced the crowd, at which it cut off abruptly, leaving an overwhelming silence as profound as the depths of the ocean. The woman could have whispered into that void and been heard all the way at the back of the theater.
“My brothers and sisters, the Emerald Tablet has at long last been unlocked. Dawn is indeed upon us!” A murmuring from the crowd, then . . . excitement. Anticipation. “And we have captured the descendant of the blood who unlocked it.”
With one voice, the crowd breathed out, “The blood has power.”
Wait a minute. Wait, wait, wait a minute! Gabe’s mind raced as he struggled to catch up. They’ve captured someone? The book got all weird and turned green when I touched it. With my bloody finger! I unlocked the Tablet—or at least I think I did. Who else has the same blood that I have? Who did they capture, thinking they’re me?
The woman—that had to be Primus—went on. “We will need the Emerald Tablet to complete the Great Work. Our interrogations of the captive bore no fruit. Therefore, we will need more hunters to search the city.” She cast a glance at the dog cages, and the whimpering grew louder.
More thoughts spun out of control in Gabe’s head. My mom had the same blood as me. If my mom is still alive, could she be the captive they’re talking about?
Kaz reached across Lily’s back and touched Gabe’s arm. He didn’t make a sound, but he mouthed the words exaggeratedly: We should go!
Gabe didn’t know what to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. What if Mom is here? I have to know!
From inside her cloak, Primus produced a piece of red chalk. Kneeling, she turned in a slow circle, inscribing an ornate, complicated series of glyphs and runes on the floor. Gabe could tell she had practiced this many times before. There was no hesitation, no wasted motion. The circle just flowed out of her.
When she finished, a trapdoor opened in the stage and a strange machine rose up out of the floor. It was ancient looking, with tarnished knobs and gears and a single huge lever protruding from one side. Primus stepped out of the circle. She took hold of the machine’s lever and nodded in the direction of the dog cages.
Every square inch of Gabe’s skin puckered into gooseflesh.
Another cultist stepped forward and opened the cage doors, one by one. There were five dogs—five medium-size, filthy, fur-matted mutts—and as if in some kind of canine trance, they stepped out of their cages and walked across the stage toward the circle.
“They look like strays,” Lily whispered. If she hadn’t been so close to Gabe’s ear, he wouldn’t have heard her. “They’re defenseless. What’re they going to do to them?”
Gabe was afraid he knew. The contents of his stomach threatened to rise.
Primus pulled the lever. A hole irised open in the glowing globe, and some of that swirling, golden, smoky essence curled out like a tentacle. The first of the strays stepped into the chalk circle, and the smoky tendril lanced down, striking the dog like a snake.
Just like the swirls of gold dust from the Tablet struck us!
The dog threw back its head and howled, and the smoke enveloped it, hiding it from view entirely. Gabe was glad of that. He didn’t think he could take actually watching what happened to the poor animal, especially when the sounds started. Wet, ragged, ripping sounds that made Gabe want to retch up everything he’d eaten in the last week.
When the smoke cleared, a skinless, faceless hunter stood where the dog used to be, snarling and snapping its slavering jaws. Another cultist came forward, holding a—Gabe cringed—holding a branding iron. The cultist pressed the brand against the hunter’s muzzle. Then he stepped back and shouted a command. “Heel. Obey your mistress.” The hunter growled and gnashed its teeth, but moved to stand behind Primus. Orderly. Obedient.
Gabe risked a look over at Lily, and caught Kaz wiping away a tear. Lily’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the catwalk’s rail.
Below them, one after another, the remaining stray dogs were transformed into hunters. Gabe’s stomach rolled into a tight little knot as he realized the new pack of hunters were standing directly below him. Don’t look up don’t look up don’t look up! He hoped against hope that the creatures’ lack of noses meant they couldn’t smell very well.
The opening in the globe sealed itself shut. The hunters waited quietly, but from the twitching of their weird, barbed tails, they seemed to be filled with excitement. Primus inscribed another chalk circle on the stage. When she finished and stood, the globe flashed and pulsed and thrummed, its vibrations traveling throughout the theater as if it was revving up.
“Now,” Primus addressed the crowd, “on to the great ritual of Exchange that we have awaited for generations.” She gestured with both hands, and more cultists scrambled to the four corners of the theater. They started setting up what looked like altars. One was topped with a brazier of fiery coals, one with a basin of water, one with a small cairn of stones. Gabe realized with a jolt how similar the setup was to the underground chamber where the four of them had bound themselves to the elements.
Primus’s voice rang out like a bell. “Bring out the descendant of the blood!”
The doors at the back of the theater opened, and four cultists came in, bearing a stretcher between them. A stretcher with someone strapped to it. Gabe’s heart whirred in his chest.
The stretcher passed under one of the theater’s ornate chandeliers, and Gabe caught a glimpse of all-too-familiar white-blond hair.
Uncle Steve!
Gabe went light-headed with relief to see his uncle. But this surge of elation didn’t last. They’d found Steve, and he was alive, but he was also in the grip of a bunch of insane fanatics!
“What are they going to do to him?” Kaz whispered.
After seeing what the cultists had done to those poor dogs, Gabe didn’t intend to wait around to find out. He kept an eye on the stage, scanning the catwalk for weapons. The poles at their feet—“gaffs,” he thought they were called—wouldn’t be m
uch use against those hunters and a theater full of cultists, but they were better than nothing.
The cultists carried the stretcher up onto the stage. Now Gabe could see that Uncle Steve was unconscious, or maybe drugged. He just lay there motionless, though they’d strapped down his arms and his leg anyway. Primus glided over to him.
“This man, Steven Conway, unlocked the Emerald Tablet. It has been testified that the Tablet can be activated only by a descendant of our Great Founder, Jonathan Thorne.”
“He who shall bring the dawn,” the crowd chanted.
“And so we are faced with a unique and precious opportunity,” Primus continued. “The Principle of Balance tells us that Steven Conway can be sent to Arcadia in exchange for the Great Founder himself.”
“Blood for blood,” the crowd said with one voice.
“The blood has power, and with it the Great Founder can finally be returned to us from Arcadia after all these years!”
Gabe had been trying to figure out how to get his friends and Uncle Steve out of here, but Primus’s words tied his brain into knots. Watching the scene below was like turning on a movie an hour into its running time. He already knew that the world was different than he had ever imagined: full of magick and elements and strange cults. But with every sentence, Primus underscored how little Gabe truly knew. Arcadia? This Great Founder? Gabe didn’t have a clue what any of it meant. Now more than ever he wanted his uncle. He needed him.
Uncle Steve was within sight, but still so far away. And Gabe now understood why. It’s all a mistake. A colossal mistake! The Eternal Dawn must have tracked the opening of the Tablet to the Conways’ house, and the only person they’d found there was Uncle Steve. They must have assumed he’d been the one to unlock it. But Uncle Steve hadn’t opened the Tablet: Gabe had.
All of this—every single bit of it—is my fault!
Meanwhile, the crowd applauded and cheered. Through the din Gabe heard the same words chanted over and over: “Blood for blood! Blood for blood! Blood for blood!” His mind reeling, Gabe tried to steady himself by reaching out for the catwalk’s railing—and misjudged the distance. Only by a fraction of an inch, but it was enough. Lily and Kaz sprang forward to try to catch him, but it was too late.
With a sickening lurch, Gabe fell off the catwalk and plummeted toward the stage and the pack of hunters waiting below.
9
Gabe had just enough time for his depressingly short life to flash before his eyes before he landed on something that felt like a really huge, really soft pillow.
Except he hadn’t landed. He was suspended facedown, no more than ten feet below the catwalk, staring at the hunters sitting placidly below. Gabe clenched his jaws shut as tightly as he could to keep from screaming. Before his brain could begin to make sense of what was happening, he began to rise, swiftly but gently, as if he were being hoisted by a thousand tiny ropes. After a few long seconds he landed back on the catwalk next to Lily.
Lily wobbled, and slumped down on her backside. Her eyes swam in and out of focus. Brett slid a steadying arm around her shoulders.
“How did you do that?” Kaz whispered.
Lily blinked. “I don’t know. I just . . . I saw Gabe falling, and I reached for him, and when I did, I . . . I felt the air. Trillions and trillions of molecules of it, and I just gathered up a bunch of them and slipped them underneath him.” She looked Gabe in the eye. “I knew I could do it. I knew. And I think that made it happen.”
“How scientific. I almost forgot that that’s totally impossible.” Kaz sounded as if he was trying to pack as much sarcasm into his words as he could, but the attempt fell flat. Kaz’s tight, tortured expression confirmed it. He’d taken his best shot at playing the skeptic, but now even he had to admit it: logic was out and magick was in.
Gabe sneaked a look at the stage below them, expecting to see every eye (and eyeless face) turned their way, but no one seemed to have noticed his fall. He felt a spike of intense relief at that, but it faded almost instantly when he caught sight of Uncle Steve, still unconscious and strapped down on the stage below. The cult members had put together another altar, and his uncle’s stretcher lay on top of it.
The leader, Primus, started speaking in a language Gabe had never heard before, and that was saying something. Uncle Steve’s studies covered three continents, and Gabe had been exposed to dozens of languages, including dead tongues like Latin and Sanskrit. The words coming out of Primus’s mouth, however, didn’t sound like anything Gabe had ever heard. They didn’t even sound human.
“Zxarna vrahmu otvortse. Dvai shvioutei pivuntxa.”
In response, the crowd started chanting. “Taigho shviunta. Taigho shviunta.”
Primus continued. Gabe thought he felt the temperature in the theater drop a degree with each syllable she spoke. “Dvai shvioutei pivuntxa, majia povrunshei taigho shviunta!”
How on earth was he going to get Uncle Steve out of this?
The crowd got more animated. “Taigho shviunta! Taigho shviunta!”
“What are they saying?” Brett whispered, and Gabe was about to reply along the lines of Maybe we shouldn’t be talking so much since we’re trying to hide up here when he looked down at the hunters again.
All five of them were sitting stock-still, heads lifted, “staring” straight at him with their featureless faces.
Kaz had noticed them, too, and said, “Umm, guys,” but it was too late to move. The hunters broke out into bone-chilling howls and screams, and bolted straight up the walls, making a beeline for the catwalk.
The crowd’s chanting cut off. Primus’s voice, in English this time, sliced through the air. “Do not stop! We cannot let the ritual be interrupted! The hunters will handle whatever disturbance lurks above!”
The crowd started chanting again—“Taigho shviunta! Taigho shviunta!”—as the first of the hunters reached the catwalk. Gabe snatched up one of the pole-like gaffs and tried to swing it like a baseball bat, but it banged off one of the catwalk’s support struts and almost made his hands go numb. Instead, as the hunter leaped at him, Gabe held the pole like a spear and jammed it into the hunter’s mouth. Sulfur-stench breath washed over Gabe as the beast howled in surprise and pain, and pitched off the catwalk’s edge—but instead of falling, it hooked a claw into the edge of the walkway and ran upside down back along the catwalk’s length.
“I scared one away!” Gabe shouted. “I think! Grab those poles and jab ’em in the snout!”
Kaz and Lily picked up two more gaffs, while Brett grabbed a big monkey wrench, and the four of them tried their best to make a stand. If the catwalk hadn’t provided such a narrow path, the hunters would have overwhelmed them instantly, but as it was, the creatures had only two ways to approach. Several painful pokes in the nose and mouth sent the rest of them scurrying away.
Or so Gabe thought. He’d been so focused on the ones right in front of him, he hadn’t paid any attention to the ones that had retreated. When he caught sight of them, he only had enough time to say, “Guys, hold on!”
Because two of the hunters had been busily gnawing through the catwalk’s main supports.
One of the supports snapped in half, and the catwalk tilted, almost dumping all four of them off the end. Kaz gripped the railing with both hands, his gaff forgotten, and screamed at Lily, “Do that thing! That thing where you levitated Gabe!”
Lily apparently had just enough presence of mind to savor Kaz’s change of heart. “You mean that impossible thing?” She might have given Kaz more of a hard time, but at that moment the other main support gave way, and the entire catwalk dropped like a stone.
For about fifteen feet.
Before Gabe’s stomach could even catch up with him—it seemed to have stayed in the rafters—Lily’s eyes turned a solid grayish white. She concentrated, and the catwalk trembled, slowed, and floated down toward the stage below.
Brett’s head snapped up. “Look out!”
The hunters leaped for the descending catwal
k, but Brett, Kaz, and Gabe managed to swat them away. They landed on their feet, though, like giant cats, obviously unhurt and even more bloodthirsty.
As soon as the catwalk dropped below the fly curtains and into full view of the crowd, the cultists broke off their chanting again. Some of them even jumped out of their seats and ran for the exits. Not enough of them, though. Gabe saw dozens of silver-masked weirdos head for the stage, ready to pounce on them once they landed.
Primus broke into English again: “Stop them! They cannot be allowed to interfere!” Then she picked up the alien chanting, Gabe was pretty sure in midsentence. Another cultist, the one who’d announced Primus when she first came to the stage, took over.
“You remember what happened the last time a ritual like this went wrong! Protect the Primus and the Sacred Circle at all costs!”
The catwalk touched down on the stage, but Gabe didn’t think they had anywhere to run. The hunters had regrouped behind them, and a couple dozen cultists, braver than the rest, had taken the stage and advanced on them with daggers and billy clubs.
Lily knew she could catch me. And that’s what made it happen.
That thought echoed in Gabe’s mind.
The whole world seemed to slow down around him. Kind of like when his life flashed before his eyes, except a lot more interesting this time, because he knew he could do it, too. Because he already had done it. Who grabbed energy out of the electrical sockets in his bedroom and set the room on fire? He did. That was no freak bolt of lightning. He’d done that himself. And maybe he didn’t know exactly how, but maybe he didn’t have to. After all, I don’t know how the internet works, but I use it every day!