by John Corwin
Shelton snorted. "Everything?"
I shook my head. "No, the arch seemed ready to take me to a location where there was no corresponding exit arch."
He took in a breath. "It could take you anywhere, no other arch required? Do you know what that would mean for travel?"
"It would be almost as advanced as the Key of Juranthemon."
"Yeah." Shelton nodded. "It'd be a close second."
The Key of Juranthemon coupled with the Map of Juranthemon allowed the user to create instantaneous travel portals between any doors, at least according to Underborn. Unfortunately, the notorious assassin now had both of those relics, having forced me to choose between saving Felicia's life, or giving him the map and key.
I inspected the omni-arch. The piano-black material was triangular where it met the polished black floor. It twisted like a vine from there, somehow gaining more angles and sides, though my eyes had trouble finding where exactly the changes in geometry took place. The linked arches, by comparison, remained triangular from one end to the other, even though they twisted en route. "The angels must have been working on a new kind of arch before the Grand Nexus blew up."
"Maybe they never got them operational." Shelton walked a circle around the arch. "Because something went wrong when you tried to use it."
I told him my theory about the cracked traversion tunnel. "It's like I fell out, but the tunnel sucked me back in."
"And you end up coming out at a broken arch in El Dorado." He braced his chin on his knuckles, eyes lost in thought. "Maybe the destruction of the Grand Nexus broke the arches."
"I'm going with that answer for now," I said. "Maybe we should give one of these a test and see if it works."
Shelton shook his head, eyes wide. "Hell no, kid. I ain't taking the chance of ending up in angel central. Let's look around more and see if anything else sticks out. Then I got more questions for those operators."
I couldn't blame Shelton for his caution. For all I knew, trying to power an omni-arch could cause a catastrophe. The way my luck had run, it was likely. We looked around for a while, and Shelton interrogated the operators, but they had little more to offer than they had earlier, so we left and headed back toward the door leading to Queens Gate.
The vampire protestors were back at it again, I noticed, and we had to wait in line since the security guard who'd screened us earlier was still intent on harassing everyone. I just hoped he didn't do body cavity searches. The line remained long as ever, thanks to the broken arch preventing people from departing and forcing them to seek a place to stay in Queens Gate.
"You've got to be kidding me," Shelton said, his lips curling into a snarl when it was our turn. He scowled at the guard. "We just passed through here a little while ago, and the arch is shut down, so it's not like anyone else could've come in."
"People come in from London all the time," the man replied, raising a haughty eyebrow as if daring Shelton to challenge his logic.
"But you remembered us when we came in!" he said.
The guard, however, was more or less like a honey badger. He just didn't give a damn.
After clearing us for reentry, the man turned to the next in line, his wand ready to violate their every secret.
Shelton grumbled under his breath.
"He's just doing his job," I said, though my heart wasn't really into defending the guard. I just wanted Shelton to shut up before he got us into trouble.
"Look at the moron, lording it over everyone like he runs the place." Shelton pshawed. "Give someone a little bit of power, and they abuse the hell out of it."
I glanced back as a man with a bright red bowler perched atop his bald head bypassed the line of people and sauntered up to the gatekeeper. He said a word or two, and the gatekeeper motioned him past. "Man, this place really lets the elites get away with anything."
Shelton had apparently seen it, too. "It's all about politics." He took out his arcphone, flicked the screen and looked at it for a moment. "Sweet."
"What is it?" I asked.
"I got some buddies up at the Science Academy," Shelton said. "I texted one, and he got us access to an empty dorm room for the night."
"There's our silver lining," I said, trying not to think about Elyssa. I noticed most of the people who'd come back were headed down the yellow brick road to Queens Gate proper for lodging.
We turned toward the rocket ship, boarding it with a group of frustrated adults dragging along tired kids who looked about elementary school age. I almost asked Shelton why such young kids were here, but remembered what Miles had told me about the schools accepting kids as young as ten.
Even though the rocket was the size of a subway train car, people occupied more than half of the bench seats stretching lengthwise along the curved hull of the transport, with room to stand in the center. Shelton and I took spots near the middle. The man with the god-awful red bowler stepped inside a moment later. He glanced at us, making eye contact with me for a second before sitting on the bench opposite us in the front. I found it hard to stop staring at the man's gaudy, red polyester suit and his shiny, white shoes. A red polka-dotted shirt with a lacy collar attempted to murder my eyes from beneath the polyester jacket.
"Isn't that a crime against humanity?" I said, motioning my head toward the man.
Shelton sputtered with laughter, not even trying to conceal the object of our mutual derision. "Man, that can't be for real." He touched his chin in thought for a moment. "Although I do remember one of my teachers at the university who loved to wear robes with fake fur on them." He shuddered. "There's no accounting for taste."
Turning my eyes away from the bizarrely dressed man, I said to Shelton, "Tell me again why there's a science academy in the Overworld. Isn't that more of a nom thing?"
He chuckled. "You know movies with mad scientists?"
"Like Frankenstein?" I asked.
"Yeah, kinda like that." He motioned toward the robot with the fishbowl head and blinking lights as it greeted everyone and announced departure in a robotic monotone. "Just look around, man. Think of robotic spiders, flying saucers, and levitating skateboards. Science Academy is every nerd's wet dream."
I couldn't deny that. "I take it the Arcanes and techies don't get along?"
Shelton gave me an are you serious? look. "In case you failed to notice, they're purists at the university. Hell, they only just allowed arcphones, and that's because so many parents complained to the council about having to write letters instead of being able to text or call their kids."
I had difficulty getting it all straight in my head. "But don't arcphones mix science and magic?"
Shelton took off his hat and brushed it against his side. "The School of Magical and Scientific Synergy is the part of Science Academy that deals with mixing the two, but most of the other departments deal in pure science."
I felt my forehead wrinkle more than usual. "I don't get why the university and academy can't just get along. Arcphones are freaking sweet."
He chuckled. "One word: elitism. Arcphones allow those with less inherent arcane talent to compete on a level playing field with powerful naturals. The naturals don't like that. That's one reason the Arcane Tourney is limited to non-technological foci, like staffs and wands without built-in generators."
From the perspective of pure ego, it made sense, even if it was all wrong. "Are the techies as stuck up as the Arcanes?"
He waggled a hand in a so-so fashion. "The Grand Experimental Expo is sort of like the Arcane Tourney, except it's about inventing the craziest stuff possible."
"Sounds like a grown-up version of a science fair."
He nodded. "It's a heck of a lot more entertaining than the stupid Arcane Tourney, I'll tell you that much."
I stared out the window as the top of the mountain loomed closer. "It would be so cool if they'd share with noms." I shrugged. "I just don't get why it has to be so top secret. We could have spaceships and travel the universe."
"Didn't you hear what I said
earlier?" Shelton said, his voice gruff. "Elitists like my dad will never let that happen. Why would you allow the noms to have that kind of power?" He narrowed his eyes. "And before you get any bright ideas about giving arcphones to your high school buddies, you should know giving Overworld technology or magic to noms is a capital offense."
I gave him a wounded look. "I know it's all hush-hush, geez."
"Yeah, well the penalty is death or eternal banishment to the Gloom. I still don't know which is worse." He shuddered. "I had to fulfill a bounty on someone I knew. I didn't know at the time they'd broken that particular law, or maybe I would have turned it down."
"Wow, Shelton. You cashed in a contract on a friend?" I shook my head. "Now, that's low."
He stared at me with narrowed eyes for a moment. "She wasn't my friend. Just someone I went to school with."
I didn't know whether to admire Shelton for doing his job despite the circumstances, or to despise him for doing his job because of them. I tried not to judge the man, but it was hard. One minute he could be a complete butt muncher, and the next, he could be rescuing my butt from a bad situation. He'd allegedly been involved with Vadaemos, the same demon spawn who'd killed Meghan Andretti's father. He'd also tried to kidnap me and my father for a bounty. Shelton was either a very complicated person or a complete schizoid—and I didn't know which.
The episode with his father and revelation about his brother made me all the more curious. But it nothing short of a nuclear bomb seemed capable of penetrating Shelton's protective armor.
I decided to abandon the subject for the time being as the rocket climbed toward the mountain where Science Academy awaited.
The rocket bumped down on a landing pad. The robot pilot swiveled at the waist and said in a robotic monotone, "We have arrived, Earthlings."
We stepped outside onto a sidewalk made of a strange material that looked almost like liquid mercury, though not as shiny. The moment our feet touched down, the material surged beneath us. I yelped in surprise, much to the amusement of a group of geeks just behind us. The pathway carried us into a large tunnel. A white glow suffused the corridor, gleaming off the polished chrome-like material on the walls. Beams of red light scanned us as we went through and, at the end, a hulking robot with giant cylindrical guns on the arms strode our way on legs bent backwards like those of a kangaroo.
"Identify," it said in a cybernetic voice.
"Oh, for crying out loud," Shelton said. "Doesn't this joke ever get old?"
The gun barrels whirred to life, rotating so fast they were a blur, and a single red eye in the center of its chrome body blazed to life. "Identify."
"Ignore it," Shelton said and headed toward another moving pathway.
Staring at the spinning guns, I sidled up to Shelton, placing him squarely between me and the robot, even though I noticed the other passengers from the rocket were ignoring the contraption as well. The man with the red bowler paused at the end of the branching path, his eyes locking onto mine. He tipped his bowler at me, winked and smiled, then took the opposite path away from us.
Before I had a chance to wonder about the odd man, Shelton drew my attention back to the lethal-looking robot, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. "If the scans don't recognize someone, that thing comes out to make you crap your drawers."
"Well, it works," I said.
He sniffed the air. "Whew, guess it did."
I poked him with an elbow. "Ha, ha. Laugh it up, buddy."
He did.
The moving pathway took us past a long building, all curves and organic grace, with a silvery sheen visible by the white ambient light glowing from an unseen source around it. The same liquid glass I'd seen in use at the MagicSoft and Orange stores in the Grotto seemed to be in use here, judging from the gentle undulations of the windows. I gawked at the beauty and cutting-edge aesthetics with unabashed admiration.
Shelton held a hand to the left as we came to a fork in the moving pathway, and the surface shifted us left toward a three-story building that looked as though it might belong to an outpost on Mars. "Those are the dorms. My friend left me with a passkey."
Something overhead flashed by so fast, I wondered if I had imagined it. Two more streaks blurred toward the building, followed by a slower-moving flying saucer which stopped to hover for a moment, casting a blinding dome of light on the two of us. I almost expected to be abducted by aliens before the rotating ship resumed course and whirred onward to the building.
"Where can I get one of those?" I asked, certain I was already drooling.
Shelton laughed and pressed his thumb against a biometric reader on the building door. It slid open with a whoosh, and we stepped inside. The interior of the dorm looked normal, almost like a hotel, but with no carpeting or front desk. Our room was a small affair with a bunk bed against one wall and two empty desks against the other.
"I call top," I said, grabbing some folded sheets off the bare mattress and spreading them out.
"I don't think so," Shelton replied.
I looked at him over my shoulder. "Want to arm wrestle for it?"
He blew out a breath. "Fine. Keep the stupid top. I didn't really want it anyway." He paced around the room impatiently, stopping at the window, after a minute, and looking at the lights outside. "Man, I'm starving. Let's head to the food court."
My stomach rumbled in agreement. "What do they have to eat here?"
Shelton ran through a list as we made our way back outside. About halfway between the dorms and another group of buildings he identified as the food court, the moving pathway abruptly stopped. I staggered forward a couple feet before regaining my balance.
"What the hell?" Shelton rubbed his boot against the liquid-looking metal. He knelt down and rapped on it. "Step off for a sec," he said, moving onto the grass bordering the pathway. I followed suit. "Alright, now get back on."
I did, but nothing happened.
"Huh." He jumped up and down on it. Cursed. "Well, I guess this thing still breaks down all the time."
"Uh, does the rocket ship ever break down?" I asked, thinking back to the terrifying height of the mountain and imagining the ship malfunctioning before it reached the top.
He shook his head. "Nah, hardly ever."
"Hardly ever?"
"It has a backup system anyway." He started walking toward the distant food court. "C'mon."
I took a step and heard a thud. I paused, looking around, and saw nothing. Took another step. The ground vibrated ever so slightly beneath my feet.
Shelton spun to look at me. "What the hell?" His eyes narrowed. "Okay, now they're going too damned far."
I followed his gaze and spotted the robot from the entrance standing about thirty yards away, the red light in the center of its body glowing. "Hello, Your Majesy," it said in a cockney accent. "I'd like to personally welcome you to our lovely academy." With that, the huge cylindrical guns on either arm spun up, whining like twin jet engines, and spewed forth jagged bolts of death.
Chapter 11
I dove, shoving Shelton out of the way of a burst of white-hot energy, and rolled to my feet several yards away.
"Please do not move," the robot said, cockney accent gone and replaced with a calm, male robotic voice as it continued to blast away. "If you move, I will likely miss."
Shelton rolled across the ground as the death beams charred the grass around him to ash. In one fluid movement, he whipped out his staff rod, squeezed it, and popped it out to full length. He shouted a word, and an incandescent nimbus sprung up in a partial sphere around him. The beams speared into the shield, spreading across it with a dull red glow. Shelton's feet skidded back across the grass from the force of impact.
"I apologize," the robot said in a calm tone. "My weaponry appears to be failing for some reason. I will adjust." With a mechanical whirring sound, a rack of missiles sprang from the back of the robot, swiveled, and aimed at Shelton.
He cursed. "I don't know if I can hold out against that!"
/> I jumped up and down. "Hey, robot! Over here, you stupid thing."
Its torso swiveled. "It is unkind to call me stupid." With that pronouncement, it fired a red-tipped missile right at me.
I blurred out of its path, and the missile shot past. "How about you stop shooting at us?" I said.
"Justin, watch out," Shelton shouted, pointing wildly behind me.
I turned in time to see the missile arc lazily upward like a brilliant star against the night sky and curve back down toward me. "Oh, crap." Thinking back to all the science fiction movies I'd seen, I immediately knew what to do and how to stop this madness. I waited for the missile to level out about ten feet off the ground and streak toward me. Mustering all my speed, I ran straight at the robot.
Let's see how he likes a taste of his own medicine. "Prepare to die!" I shouted triumphantly.
About two seconds into my victory charge, I realized a serious flaw in my plan when the robot's twin guns whirred to life and spewed death rays. I shouted in dismay, dodged left, and narrowly missed plowing through a sapling some thoughtful gardener had planted there as lasers splintered the tree and set it on fire. My foot found a muddy spot where the same thoughtful gardener had apparently overwatered the area around the tree. At my high speed, the lost traction sent me sprawling like a greased midget in a mud wrestling match.
As I slid on my back through wet earth, I saw the missile on approach. It looked about the same size as the homemade rocket kit my dad and I had put together and fired off at a park once, although the tip looked sharp enough to spit me like a pig. Afterward, the explosion would spread me like confetti and, no doubt, really tick off the gardener.
Shelton roared a word, and a jagged beam of light speared from his wand even as he held his staff and its glowing shield to the side. His shot missed the missile. I scrambled for purchase, clawing my way back to my feet. But it was too late. An invisible force yanked my feet out from under me, reversing my course as though someone had lassoed my feet and pulled me with a horse. An instant later, the ground where I'd been exploded in a shower of hot mud and grass.