Cornerstone 02 - Keystone

by Misty Provencher

  “Big Dog’s Junkyard,” Garrett says. “I’m pretty sure Zane goes there for parts. It’s out in Clare County. It’s about four hours away, at least.”

  I hold up the business card. “I wonder why she kept it?”

  “Don’t know,” Garrett shakes his head. “We’ll show them to the Addo. Maybe we’ll take a drive out to the junkyard and see if there’s someone out there that might know.”

  I look back at the old photo of my mom, surrounded by a husband and friends I never knew. And then I hear the murmur of dark voices outside, whispering to us through the aluminum garage door, “Hey, you still in there?”

  Chapter 10

  I STUFF THE PICTURE AND the card into my pocket.

  Garrett goes to the edge of the garage door, waving me behind him. He whispers, “It’s the Emen, I think, but be ready.”

  I focus and my field blows out around me. My body drops down into a crouch, ready to face whatever doom comes at us. Garrett slides up the door.

  But what’s waiting outside isn’t doom. Not even close.

  Instead, there are five men with beer bellies standing outside, all dressed in un-tucked, wrinkly plaid shirts, cargo shorts, and sneakers. They could be the dads of any one from my school. One has a six pack tucked under his arm and another is dragging a big, blue picnic cooler.

  “Hey chief,” one of them rubs his forehead in Garrett’s direction and then mine, flashing the Ianua impression in his palm. “Heard you need something moved?”

  “Yeah,” Garrett exhales, stepping aside. “Thanks for coming. It’s right over there.”

  The Emen file in and I’m still in shock. They are the kind of men I’ve seen everywhere: standing in bowling lanes, holding their wife’s bags at the mall, riding a mower across their yard. They all look the same: middle-aged men with a layer of extra chin; a small crowd of sensible haircuts, all combed to the side. And instead of a dead-body-retrieval service, they seem to have shown up for a tailgate party.

  Garrett and I join the Emen in a half-moon arc around the Fury Man.

  “So where’d he come from?” The guy with the beer asks.

  “In here,” Garrett tells him. “He was waiting for us when we opened the door.”

  “Mhm.” The guy with the cooler nods as he eyes the body on the floor. He glances up at Garrett, skips to me, and then jumps back to Garrett. “So anybody done the rings yet?”

  “Mrs. Neho,” Garrett says.

  “Oh. Uh huh. Well...good,” a different one says. He rubs his hands together as if he’s waiting to dig into a big plate of barbeque, instead of shoveling a body off the garage floor. “Well, what do ya say we get this dead guy outta your place then?”

  One of the Emen coughs into his hand. Garrett throws a thumb over his shoulder.

  “Okay, then. I guess we’ll just get out of your way,” he says.

  “Oh yeah. That’d be great.” One of the men smiles and all the other Emen start nodding and kick up a mumbling cloud of yeah, sure, that’d probably be for the best, that’d be great.

  One of the Emen reaches up and rolls down the aluminum door as soon as we step outside. I hear the creak of the plastic cooler lid flipping open inside and then…nothing. My whole body does a wet-dog shiver.

  “That’s creepy,” I whisper to Garrett. We walk toward the Emen vehicle, a weird cross between a service truck and an RV, with locked compartment doors all over the back cab, instead of windows.

  “It is,” Garrett agrees. “But I’m glad they’re the ones doing it and not us.”

  He flips open his phone and dials Mrs. Reese.

  “Hey Mom. Yeah, the Emen are here now,” he says and then he tells her about the picture and the card. He does a couple mmm hmms and then he finishes with, “Alright. We’ll watch for Shred and I’ll check in with you later.”

  The shed door suddenly flies up and hits the end of the track with such a bang that it deploys my field as fast as an air bag. Garrett slips his phone back into his pocket.

  The Emen roll the cooler out of the shed and the guy with the six-pack salutes us, clanking the bottles in the cardboard carrier.

  “Have a good night!” he says. Two of them hoist the cooler into the back of their truck, arguing Nascar stats as they do it.

  “Thanks,” Garrett says. I can’t tell which voice belongs to which Emen as they file into their van, shouting back, Yeah sure! No problem! Call us whenever you need your beer drunk!

  As fast as they start the engine, they’re gone. I look, wide eyed, at Garrett.

  “They didn’t…” I can’t even finish.

  “It looks that way,” he says. “That’s why they’re the Emen. Trade secrets. You want to be really flipped out? Close your eyes and try to remember what any of them looked like.”

  I glance back down the now-deserted storage aisle. I remember what I thought of them, but I can’t recall a single face. Every memory of them is a generalized black hole, as if someone took an eraser to my brain. A hard shiver slips down my spine.

  “Creepy, right?” Garrett says just as Shred’s van pulls around the corner of our aisle. The van stops right in front of us and Garrett slides the door open for me. “Don’t worry too much about it. Let’s just figure out what was in Roger’s picture frame.”

  It’s dark out, but we stare at the picture and the business card all the way back to the hotel, between streetlights. It feels good to sit so close to Garrett, even if we’re not touching, but I keep hoping he’ll put his arm around me, or that he will edge closer. All that happens is that the first time our knees brush, he shifts to give me more room.

  When we get back to the hotel, I catch a glimpse of Mark up on the roof. He gives us a wave before we pull inside the service garage.

  “Let’s have Addo take a look,” Garrett says as we walk down the hall. When we get to the gym, it’s still lit up, even though all the machines are moved around and there are painting tarps spread over a corner of the room. The second we step inside, I spot Zane, sitting on one of the lifting benches, playing the drums on his thigh with his fingers.

  “So…” He grins like we’re here for a party. It’s especially weird, considering that the last time we saw him we had to escape through a tunnel and leave him behind. But he’s sitting here, without a scratch on him, as if nothing ever happened. “Where ya been?”

  “Blessings for Alo Evangeline’s Memories,” Garrett says, knocking fists with him. “Good to see you made it out of the library. Let’s hear the whole story. All I know is that it sounded like you had your hands full when we were leaving.”

  “Yeah, that.” Zane frowns. “Time’s are changin’ brother, that’s for sure. About twenty of them busted through the door…”

  “Twenty?” Garrett’s brows raise.

  “Can you believe it? Never seen The Fury actually work together like that. The whole attack was whackamole. The Fury came in hollering that they had to find the Key, as if they were sure it was there someplace. The Key, brother! They’re the ones that are supposed to have it! And how did they even know you guys were camping out under the books? They zeroed right for the rooms too, like they knew there were Veritas tunnels. It was a bugger keeping them back. I’ve never seen any of the Fury that focused, you know?”

  “No, they’re always scattered,” Garrett’s voice is kind of light, as if it was just a thought that managed to slip out of his mouth. But the wonder in his voice makes me feel like the ground is shifting right under my feet. Everyone keeps saying how The Fury aren’t doing things the way they’ve always done them.

  “We found something at one of the storage sheds,” Garrett continues. “Right after we ran into one of the Fury’s foot soldiers.”

  “They’ve been everywhere,” Zane groans, as if he’s talking about street signs instead of attackers. “What’d you find?”

  “This,” I say, pulling the photo and card from my pocket. Zane takes both, looking over the photo first and then flipping over the card to read the message on the back
.

  “Big Dog’s,” he says with a grunt. “I get parts there for the Free Ball. It’s out in Clare County. Who’s I.J.?”

  “Don’t know.” I shrug. Zane grunts again and then he holds up the photo, his thumbnail hovering over the top of the awkward, distracted guy beside the pencil-faced girl.

  “You know who that is?” Zane asks. Garrett and I both shake our heads. “It’s Clint. He’s the guy who owns Big Dog’s Junkyard,” Zane says.

  “Do you recognize anyone else?” I ask, but Zane shakes his head.

  “Nope. Just Clint.”

  “I can see keeping a picture of old friends, but I wonder why Nali’s mom kept the card?” Garrett says. Zane rubs his chin.

  “Tricksy,” he says, hopping off the weight bench. “We’ll have to do more thinky thinky about that later, because I was about to come looking for you.” He’s looking at me. I glance at Garrett, hoping Zane will too, and he does. “If you’re after the Addo, he’s holed up down there with Sean. You know what’s up with that?”

  Garrett just shakes his head as if he’s clueless that the Addo is probably down there spewing all the secrets of Addoship to Sean, over a plate of cookies. Zane squints.

  “Huh,” he says. “Weird. That’s the first time I’ve seen the Addo put a Contego on the back burner for one of the Simple.”

  “Maybe it’s not what you think,” Garrett says and Zane, still squinting, just nods.

  “Maybe,” he says and then he pops his eyes all the way open and turns to me. “But, lucky for you, Nali Girl, I got here early so we could get your training on.”

  “Early?” I ask. I want to curl up on the couch, or even better, on the bed I haven’t even used yet, and go to sleep, but no. Zane dances around me, doing boxing jabs that don’t come close to touching me.

  “Before the party,” Zane says.

  “What party?”

  “There’s always a party.” Zane wiggles his eyebrows at me.

  “I was hoping Addo would pick you to do the training.” Garrett tells Zane. He turns to me, raising his arm as if he’s going to drop it over my shoulder, but then catches himself and just puts his hands in his pockets. “Zane knows things that blow my mind. His family has developed so many fighting techniques that they’re known for their abilities in all the Outer Curas. You’re in the best hands we’ve got.”

  “We’ll get you kickin’ in no time,” Zane says, circling me. “So, c’mon Nali Girl, get your field up.”

  I try to focus and force it up, but I just want to go to bed.

  “You remember the move my dad taught you, Z?” Garrett says. “I really want her to know that too.”

  “Why don’t you just teach me?” I ask, as Zane disappears behind me. My nerves shoot up, making my voice all quivery, but my field isn’t thrown open. Not with Garrett here.

  “I can’t,” Garrett says and before I can ask why not, Zane howls. I spin around to him charging me, teeth barred, like he’s going to sink his canines into my face. My field blasts out of me with such force, I think it will break his nose, but he stops short.

  He circles me, his fingers curled like claws, as if he’s looking for an opening to crawl through. I shift with him, my body pivoting to stay face-to-face. But he’s not really looking at me. He’s studying my field.

  I’m itching for Garrett to say something, but I stay on guard. The fourth time Zane circles me, my nerves are so thin, my muscles tense, ready to lunge, just to get this over with. Finally, Zane breaks the silence with a wicked laugh.

  “Somebody’s been a good boy,” he grins at Garrett as he says it. “Her energy is great.”

  “Seriously?” Garrett says. I only catch his confusion from the corner of my eye. My mind drifts to how good it felt at the storage shed, to have him wrapped around me, breathing in the scent of his skin. We weren’t supposed to do that, but I guess it doesn’t show. I shake off the thought and concentrate on Zane again.

  “Oh ho!” Zane’s laugh is wild and high. “The Vieo comes clean! Haven’t I taught you anything, brother? The secret to getting away with the crime is to actually get away with it! Deny, deny, deny. But, whatever you two did, it couldn’t have been much. Or Nal’s just a nuclear plant of energy. Whichever it is, just quit doing it so we don’t run into problems.”

  Zane turns his grin to me. “Hear that, Nali Girl? No touchy touchy with the Vieo. You’re in training now.”

  Vieo. It spins in the back of my head, the very back, because Zane fires all kinds of information at me as if I’m a tape recorder.

  “A Cavis,” he says, “is a weakness. You gotta learn this first. Wherever your body is weak, a Cavis is going to show up in your field as a dark gray spot. There might be other colors too, like if you see a swirl of orange, back off, and if you see black, clear the hell out. But we’ll get to that stuff later. There are all kinds of combinations and we’ll teach you those, but for now, we’re looking for gray. Focus and see if you can find any of them on me.”

  I squint and then I remember that the focusing isn’t about my eyes. I focus my mind on seeing Zane’s Cavises and I spot a tiny gray patch on his chest that could just as well be the shadow of a blueberry stain showing through from his undershirt.

  “There’s one near the bottom of your heart?” My answer turns up at the end.

  “Yup. That’s my grief over losing our parents. My mom, Garrett’s dad,” Zane says. “And your mom. You don’t know this, but I miss your mom too.”

  My mom. His words shouldn’t hit me like they do. The grief is a muted thing, a needle threaded into a sweater. But hearing Zane say that he is grieving for her just pulls it right up and pokes my heart. A tear slips down my cheek.

  “So there it is,” Zane murmurs. “Your greatest weakness revolves around your mom’s death.”

  “Of course it does,” I say.

  “Ok, but now you’ve got to learn to hide it,” he says. “Watch.”

  Zane swipes his hand over his gray spot and it swishes to the other side of his chest, like it’s blown in a draft. He swirls his arms around in small circles and smooth extensions, almost like he’s doing turbo Tai chi, and the little gray patch disappears.

  “Do you see it?” he asks. I shake my head no. He turns around, so I am looking at his back. “How ‘bout now?”

  It takes a few long moments of searching and I’m still not sure I’ve found it. A gray spot hovers over his spine like a dirty bingo chip. “It’s on your back?”

  “Keep watching,” he says and slowly, the gray patch begins to drift toward the back of his arm, all on its own. Zane lifts his arm and rotates so I can watch as the spot floats across his armpit and then back across his chest. The color fades and deepens and finally, turns the shade of gray I originally saw, as the Cavis returns to its original position at the bottom of his heart.

  “So that’s the kind of thing you’re looking for,” Zane says. “A Cavis is only an indicator, not the actual weakness, so if it’s moved, it can’t hurt you. The trick is that you have to continually move your own Cavises while also trying to trigger one of your opponent’s. So, rule number one: when your field is up, first thing you do? Move. Your. Cavises. You don’t want to be an easy target.”

  “Why move it first?” I ask. “Why not…”

  Zane lunges for me.

  I think he will stop short of me, like he did before, but at the last second, it’s obvious he’s not planning on stopping. My body slides to the side and Zane slides too. He grabs for my neck and I barely get away. The panic pushes up inside my ribs.

  “Move. Your. Cavis!” Zane’s eyes flash in front of me, the ice blue of them startling. My limbs seem more like chicken wings, flapping uselessly in all directions. I have no idea if my Cavis is moving or not.

  “Last chance! Get it away from your heart!” Zane shouts. As Zane strikes, Garrett hollers, “Don’t!” at the same time, but it’s too late.

  I can’t get out of the way. Zane’s finger sinks through my field, like a spike th
rough my skin. Only his fingertip scrapes the outer edge of my Cavis, but my entire field shakes as if it’s caught in an earthquake and a wave of pain collapses me.

  Everything I haven’t felt since feeling my mom’s presence in the Memory circle comes gushing back. I feel my mom’s existence being severed from me, again. I feel the deep wound that gouged into me when I held the shell of her in my arms, again. I feel the dark loneliness of being without her, again. The hurt inside me shuts off my breath. My field shatters, leaving nothing but a vapor around me.

  Garrett’s voice is a crack of thunder that sends my breath rushing back.

  “SHE DOESN’T HAVE A CONNECTION!” Garrett shouts at Zane.

  “Well, it’s going to sting for a little bit longer then,” Zane says coolly.

  “What are you thinking?” Garrett booms at him, from over my head. “You don’t go for the weaknesses right off!”

  “Hell you don’t,” Zane says. From the floor, I watch Zane’s feet stroll off the rubber mat. One of his shoes crosses over the other, as he leans on the wall. Garrett crouches down beside me, asking if I’m okay, but I can’t answer yet.

  Zane’s voice comes smooth and easy. “That’s the way we were taught and you can bet she’s never going to let me…or anyone else…get her like that again. You should be thanking me, brother.”

  Garrett is on his feet.

  He races to Zane and they stand toe-to-toe only a second before the lightening movement of the two of them, roaring around each begins. From the floor, I just see their feet, but it only takes a moment before Zane hits the floor, doubled up and coughing.

  “What do you know, brother. You let me get to your weaknesses,” Garrett says, his feet striding back to me. “And you knew better.”

  Zane clutches his stomach and coughs his answer, “Point…taken…brother.”