Enter a Glossy Web

by McKenna Ruebush

  George made a face and stalked over to where Zed was waiting.

  The boys followed at a reasonable distance.

  * * *

  Zed was wringing his hands, and as soon as he saw George and the boys, he ran to meet them.

  “We’ve got a way to fix Obsidia,” Caleb said, holding up the little red bag.

  “Super! Now we really do have a chance!” Zed said. “What’s in it?”

  Caleb upended the satchel into his hands, and the children saw a tiny jet-black jigsaw puzzle piece.

  “What in the Flyrrey are we supposed to do with that?” George asked.

  Caleb tucked the item away. “Time, Cav?”

  “The time is now nine AM DWT. You currently have fourteen hours and eleven minutes until you bite the stardust.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Caleb said.

  “You can’t go quite yet! I’ve asked the gnomes to prepare some food for you to take,” Zed said.

  He led them back past all of the beautiful things they had already seen, and more they hadn’t. They stopped for a moment outside a tidy shop with a wooden sign hanging above the door that said DALTON’S BAKERY, and waited while Zed went inside. He returned carrying a rainbow pillowcase.

  “Sorry, we don’t really have anything better to pack this in. Nobody ever leaves here with lunch. You understand, don’t you?”

  “It’s perfect. Thank you,” George said as Caleb took the pillowcase. She peered around him and waved at the gnome peeking from the window.

  He dashed behind the curtain, and she turned away laughing as they continued to the exit.

  “Before you go, I want to ask that you be extremely careful from here,” Zed said. “You have only until tonight to re-form the Council, so we can’t afford any accidents or delays. And please beware of Dusklord!”

  “Who is Dusklord? We haven’t heard of him,” Mikal said.

  Zed shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. “He’s the master of Obsidia. I’ve never met him—I’ve just heard rumors. And beware the Door Way too! Be sure you don’t get separated. It was a pleasure having you. Good luck!” He bowed stiffly, pushed them out of the Children’s Republic, and shut the Moor behind them.

  The children looked at each other nervously.

  “Dusklord is Lucy’s beau?” George asked.

  “Sounds that way,” Caleb said.

  “I hope this isn’t going to be a repeat of the Land of Dreamers. If he’s anything like the keeper of that world, we might really be in for it,” George said.

  “Nothing can be as bad as that world,” Caleb said.

  “I hope not,” Mikal said. “Besides, Lue said she liked him.”

  “Lue probably isn’t the best judge of character,” Cavendish said.

  “He’s got a point,” George said as she took a quick count.

  “I’m full of points,” Cavendish said. “Now, would you mind booting me down for a bit? I’d like to do some research on multiple personalities.”

  “Do you think we left the Children’s Republic better than we found it, George?” Mikal asked as he turned Cavendish off.

  “Definitely. We got Lue out of there, didn’t we?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Wow, the traffic is really flying this morning,” Caleb said as George tried unsuccessfully to hail rides for them.

  Touries were soaring through the tunnel much faster than usual, and they were all packed with passengers.

  “I wonder what’s going on,” George said.

  “The people must be spooked because the meteor showers have gotten so bad,” Caleb said. “Maybe they’re trying to get home to their families.”

  It took a long time to find an empty Tourie. Only one stopped, a sturdy red church door, but it was kind enough to bear the weight of all three children.

  George mounted first, followed by Mikal carrying Cavendish.

  Mikal was slightly more at ease about traveling by Tourie now, but he still felt light-headed and had to hold his breath as he stepped from the platform and across the narrow divide.

  Caleb held Mikal’s elbow to steady him and then climbed on last.

  The red church door groaned and wobbled beneath their weight. “I wasn’t built for this.”

  “I know, but we appreciate you so much,” George said.

  “At least somebody does. Where would you like to go?”

  “We’re heading to Obsidia!” Caleb said.

  “Oh no, I can’t do that. Obsidia is currently unavailable, inaccessible, closed for business! No, I can’t do that at all.”

  “We know it’s unavailable, but we have to go there anyway,” Caleb said.

  “We’re going to make it available, if that helps at all,” Mikal said.

  “If we don’t get to Obsidia, the worlds will all be destroyed tonight, including the Door Way, and all of you lovely Touries who live here,” George said.

  “Oh, very well. I can hardly argue with that,” the Tourie said, and then had to wait several minutes before an opening appeared and it was able to merge into the chaos.

  It was a harrowing journey to Obsidia with so much activity in the tunnels. They were caught in a doorjam for several minutes while eight Touries involved in a pileup were removed from the thoroughfare. Passengers were shouting to be heard above the racket of the bells and whistles and general commotion, and Touries were darting in and out of traffic so fast their riders had to cling to the knobs so as not to be tossed into the void.

  “Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse,” Mikal moaned, wedging Cavendish into the space between him and George so he could clutch his stomach. “I’m going to be sick.”

  “Not on me, you’re not!” the Tourie said.

  “Please don’t throw up on me, Mikal,” George said, looking over her shoulder at his miserably green face. “I’m sure we’re almost there.”

  “Just aim over the side if you have to be sick,” Caleb said.

  Finally they pulled up to a Moor made of ebony and set upon a podium of black marble. The red church door came to a jerky stop. Mikal clambered to his feet and made it to the podium just in time to begin vomiting over the ledge. Caleb and George rushed to his side, dropping their packs and the rainbow pillowcase on the doorstep.

  “Take care,” the Tourie called as it jetted away. “And thanks for holding it in!”

  George gave a distracted wave with one hand as she patted Mikal’s heaving back with the other.

  “You gonna make it?” Caleb asked, fishing a used breakfast napkin out of his pocket and offering it to Mikal.

  Mikal nodded and wiped his mouth. “I’m gonna make it.”

  “He just needs to catch his breath, that’s all,” George said. “Let’s sit for a minute.”

  Mikal sank down against the black Moor, taking deep breaths. “I’m starting to feel better.…” But then his eyes widened with alarm. “Where’s Cavendish?”

  “What do you mean, where’s Cavendish? Cavendish is always with you,” Caleb said.

  Mikal threw out his empty hands. “He’s not with me now, is he?”

  George fell to her knees and began rummaging through their belongings, desperately hoping to find Cavendish among them. “He isn’t here!”

  “Could you have dropped him?” Caleb asked, searching over the edge of the doorstep, but of course there was nothing to be seen but mist.

  “No, I wouldn’t have dropped him!” Mikal yelled angrily.

  “Calm down, Mikal. When did you last have him?” George asked.

  “I had him when I climbed onto the Tourie, then I got sick and I…” Mikal’s mouth went dry as he turned to stare at the rushing traffic. “I left him on the Tourie,” he whispered.

  George was stunned into silence.

  “Oh man,” Caleb said, putting both hands on his head and shaking it with dismay. “This is not good.”

  George jumped to her feet. “Which way did it go? Our Tourie, which way did it go? Did you see?”

  Mikal poi
nted a trembling finger back the way they had come.

  “We’ll never catch it now, George,” Caleb said. “Not in this mess. It would take too long to find another ride.”

  “We’ll see about that,” George said, her green eyes sparking with determination. She took a deep breath and then hurtled across the void, the ends of her scarf trailing behind her. She landed with a thud on a moving Tourie carrying a single passenger, a creature that looked like it may have had troll blood coursing through its veins.

  “What in the worlds do you think you’re doing?” the creature asked in a very prim voice.

  “Sorry!” George shouted, but she had already jumped to another door, so the creature never heard her apology.

  * * *

  “George! Are you Crazy?” Caleb yelled as she sped away. “Oh man, she’s going to get herself killed.” He looked at Mikal. “I have to go after her. It’s going to be dangerous. You can wait here.”

  Mikal’s breath was shallow as he shook his head rapidly back and forth. “No, I’m not waiting. I have to go too. For Cavendish.”

  “Are you sure you can do it?” Caleb asked, throwing a glance at the hectic traffic.

  “I have to do it,” Mikal said, swallowing hard. “Besides, we’re not supposed to get separated.”

  “Okay, let’s go. George! Wait up! We’re coming!” Caleb hollered, but George was no longer in sight.

  * * *

  George crouched down and then sprang from a pink Tourie onto a white one speeding by in the opposite direction. Someone had forgotten their yellow raincoat on it, and when George landed on the wet sleeve, it slipped out from under her. She tottered on the edge for a split second before righting herself and pouncing onto another door. Passengers swore angrily at her as she leapt from Tourie to Tourie, always scanning the tunnel for signs of the red church door.

  Finally, she caught sight of a crimson blur carrying two large figures in the distance. It turned left into a shadowy channel on the far side of the wide thoroughfare and then she lost it. George thought she heard a voice calling her name from behind, but she didn’t have time to look back as she bounded across the tunnel, finally coming to a stop balanced precariously on a narrow cabinet door swerving in and out of the traffic.

  The cabinet door was so tiny it wasn’t carrying any other passengers, but it was spunky and eager to set off in pursuit of the red church door. It took the left turn so fast George almost slid off the edge, but she caught herself and blinked hard to keep from thinking about what would happen if she fell into the abyss.

  There, up ahead, the red church door was parked next to the podium of an iron Moor. The two figures were dismounting. They were wearing long dark coats.

  “Hurry, please! We’re almost there,” George said to her feisty little Tourie. It gave a burst of speed and reached the platform just the red church door pulled away.

  Cavendish was nowhere to be seen. George caught a familiar spicy scent in the air, but she was too focused on finding her friend to register it. She climbed onto the stoop behind the two figures, whose backs were turned to her.

  “Excuse me, please? I’ve lost something. Have you seen…?” She trailed off and her palms grew sweaty.

  The bigger of the two figures had turned to face her. It was a ridiculously large man, and underneath his raincoat he was wearing a red bandanna tied around his bulging neck. His scalp and face were covered with fresh bloody scabs.

  It was Arlo, the man with blank eyes who had first come into her bedroom to take Aunt Henrietta away, and he was holding a thin white rectangle dwarfed by his enormous hands.

  George’s lungs burned, and her chest was so tight it hurt to breathe. Still, she managed to gasp, “Please. That belongs to me. May I have it back?”

  Arlo’s face clouded over, and he tightened his grip on Cavendish. “Mine.”

  “No,” George said meekly, voice shaking. “I just lost it a few minutes ago.”

  Then Arlo’s blank eyes became playful and crafty. He lifted Cavendish above George’s head and dangled him there, just out of reach. She stretched up on her toes to grab for Cavendish, but then Arlo jerked his arm and made as if to throw the map into the abyss.

  “No!” George cried, then clamped her hands over her mouth.

  Arlo grinned stupidly, dropped Cavendish to the podium, and put one gigantic foot on the slender map. He began to press down.

  Cavendish’s case creaked alarmingly.

  “Stop! Please, stop!” George begged. “You’ll hurt it—please stop.”

  “Arlo!” the other person barked. “Stop tormenting children. We’re in a hurry. Get this Moor opened for me.” The figure turned, and George began to back away.

  Mr. Neptune’s warning about allowing Cavendish to fall into the wrong hands swam frantically through her mind, but it was bogged down in the murky panic of coming face-to-face with the worst possible hands he could fall into. Before her, leaning heavily on his cane, was Nero, the old Judge.

  Nero bent to retrieve Cavendish. He turned him over, a confused look on his face. “And what could this be? It seems a rather boring toy. But what would I know? I haven’t been a child for eons.”

  He looked at George then, for the first time, and he narrowed his eyes. “You seem familiar, girl. Have we met?”

  George, mute with terror, managed only to give her head the tiniest shake.

  Nero studied her for a minute, and then he shrugged. “Oh well, you can’t blame me, really. One sees many frightened faces in my line of work. And who have we here?” he asked as Caleb and Mikal finally caught up and stepped onto the podium.

  It was getting rather crowded now.

  They were both panting. Caleb looked frantic, but on Mikal’s face there was none of the alarm one might expect after his battle with height and gravity over the yawning abyss. Rather, in the place of his usual fear and uncertainty, his face was bold and glowing with purpose.

  “Did you catch up to him?” Mikal asked. He saw Cavendish in Nero’s hands, and he frowned like a thunderhead.

  “George!” Caleb said. “You shouldn’t have left us! We’re not supposed to get separated. I thought we’d never find you! Who are these guys? And why does he have Cavendish?”

  George opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She was so pale even her freckles had faded.

  “Cavendish?” Nero asked, his mouth twisting into a sneer. “You name your toys? How quaint. Maybe it’s a more interesting item than I’d thought. Perhaps I’ll keep it.”

  Arlo chortled from behind Nero. He was standing with the Moor open, waiting.

  “You can’t keep it,” Mikal said fiercely, moving to stand before Nero. “It’s ours, and we want it back.”

  Caleb put a hand on Mikal’s shoulder and together they faced Nero down.

  Nero lifted a crooked brow and turned as if to go, taking Cavendish with him, but then he stopped and sighed dramatically. “Very well, you can have it back. You’re lucky I’m so good-natured. Children really are my weakness.”

  Some of the tension went out of Caleb’s back, but Mikal was still very much on alert.

  Nero looked once more at George and paused. “There’s something about your face.… Something … I don’t like.” Then his expression hardened and he held Cavendish out. As Caleb reached to grab the map, Nero, with a flick of his wrist, tossed Cavendish into the void. “I lied. I don’t have any weaknesses.” He turned and left through the Moor, Arlo plodding after.

  * * *

  Mikal, faster than a snake could strike, had vaulted from the doorstep and into the air while George and Caleb were still staring in disbelief at Cavendish arcing through the foggy passage.

  The map landed with a clatter on a sliding glass door.

  Mikal was a fraction of a second behind him, and the glass door tilted under his weight.

  The Tourie jerked to a surprised halt and veered off toward the nearest Moor.

  Cavendish skidded across the smooth surface and over the edge.<
br />
  Mikal threw himself down on his belly and slid halfway off the Tourie, grabbing desperately for Cavendish. The front half of his body dangled over the great nothingness, and his legs kicked as he fought to keep from falling.

  Then his legs stilled. He scooted backward and managed to sit up. He looked wildly around for his friends, who were watching him with horror-stricken faces. With a jubilant whoop, he held up one arm: clasped securely in his small hand was Cavendish.

  George’s legs collapsed straight out from under her, and she sat down with a thump.

  Caleb shouted and pumped his fists in the air, face shining with pride at Mikal’s bravery.

  Mikal made his way back to his friends just in time for George to pick herself up and wrap him in a hug so tight he had to fight her off. “You’re my hero! But don’t you ever do that again!”

  “I couldn’t believe it when you soared after him. Just … whoooosshh. Right after him, without even thinking!” Caleb said. “The Soaring Penguin, back in action!”

  “I had to do it,” Mikal said. He looked bashfully at the silent Cavendish. “He’s my friend.” Then he looked up at George and Caleb with a worried expression. “Do you think we should tell him what happened?”

  “Are you kidding? Being left behind, lost, manhandled and stepped on by a giant bad guy, held captive, and then tossed into the void? We’d never hear the end of it!” George said.

  “He stepped on him?” Mikal asked, affronted.

  “Not all the way,” George said. “But that won’t matter to Cavendish.”

  “So we’re agreed, then. We’re just gonna keep this one to ourselves,” Caleb said.

  “I like that plan,” Mikal said. “Now let’s get back to Obsidia.”

  “Wait,” George said. She bit her bottom lip and looked at the Moor that Nero and Arlo had disappeared behind. “That was them.”

  “Them? Them who?” Caleb asked.

  “The men who took my aunt Henrietta. The man with the cane was Nero.”

  “Nero? The old Judge? Who murdered most of the original Council of Seven?” Mikal asked. His eyes widened at the realization of whom he had just stood up to.

  Caleb let out a low whistle.

  “Yes, and the man with him was Arlo, his … helper? Henchman? I don’t know what to call it. He’s weird. He acts like a little kid. But that’s them.” George looked down, and her cheeks were tinged pink with shame. “It’s why I couldn’t do anything to help. I was too scared. I’m a coward.”