by Kim McMahon
“Where’s the medicine cabinet?” Adam finally said. “Let’s get that out of the way.”
“I suppose we should—those knights probably didn’t worry much about keeping their swords clean,” she agreed reluctantly. She led him to a bathroom with a big porcelain tub, and perched on its rim while he carefully unwrapped the crusted bandage, then cleaned the cut with warm water and soap. He’d only ever done this sort of thing with animals on the ranch, but he knew the basics. The wound looked nasty, about three inches across and deep—bad enough in itself but also a hotbed of germs, with serious risk of infection. She was hanging tough, but he knew it must smart like hell, and he made a feeble try to lighten the mood.
“I’m not really a doctor—I just play one on TV,” he said. She gave him one of her withering glances, which made him feel a little better. But the next step was going to be worse. “I should wash it out with hydrogen peroxide. You’d better hold on tight to something.”
“Fine, I’ll do just that,” she snapped—then clamped her teeth into his shoulder, giving him a steely stare.
Adam gently parted the edges of the cut and poured in the frothing peroxide. She bit down so hard she left toothmarks, until he was the one who almost yelped in pain—but it was strangely comforting, like a way of confirming what they’d been through together, and it seemed like both of them were willing to let it last just a little longer than it needed to. He finished by applying antibiotic ointment and a fresh bandage—the best he could do, although he wasn’t happy about it. She needed stitches and real medical care, and she seemed paler than ever.
The next priority was to find Barry, and the only place left to look was out around the manor grounds. Both of them were mentally dragging their feet, afraid they’d come up empty—which could only mean that the gunmen had gotten him.
They quickly pulled on hoodies and boots, then hurried back outside into the twilight. Everything still looked deserted. If there was a new pathway opening up like the Goddess had promised, it wasn’t happening anyplace they could see.
Then crash! Something was in the hedge, twenty yards away—something big, and coming their way. There was no place to hide—they were too far out in the open. The only thing Adam could think of was to grab a rock off the ground. He’d managed to slow down Gerard de Chavirage that way—if his aim was good, it might buy them enough time to run for it.
But just as the bulky shape came lumbering out of the hedge and he was about to let fly, Artemis caught his arm.
It was Barry!
“Where the hell have you guys been?” he panted. “I’ve been looking for you all day.” Then his eyes widened as he took in their battered appearance. “What happened to you?”
They sagged with relief—Adam had never dreamed he’d be so glad to see Barry. But what to tell him?
“Never mind that now,” Artemis said, quick on her feet as always. “What are you doing, thrashing around in there like a hedgehog all hopped up on steroids?” She raised her eyebrows like a mother who’d caught a kid trying to hide a pack of cigarettes.
Barry licked his lips nervously. “This is really, really weird—you’ve got to swear you’ll keep it secret.”
In spite of it all, they both had to struggle to keep from bursting into laughter. Them, keep a secret?
Then they heard a long, low groan coming from behind him.
“Come on, hurry up.” Barry held the hedge aside for them to step through. Now his face was flushed with worry and excitement.
When they made it through the scratchy bushes, they stared in astonishment at what they saw.
A vintage BMW motorcycle, in beautiful condition, was parked there. It had a sidecar—with a man in it, lying back against the seat with his long legs stretched out. He was somewhere around forty, wearing jeans and boots, with a black leather jacket laid over his chest. His eyes were closed and he was shivering, obviously in pain, with his lean, craggy face beaded with sweat.
Adam was quite sure he’d never seen this guy before—and yet, at the same time he had the strange feeling that somehow, he had.
“It’s Simon Lodestone, doofus!” Barry hissed, elbowing Adam sharply.
Simon Lodestone! That explained it—Adam hadn’t ever seen him in person before, but he was one of the best known people on the planet, and definitely one of the coolest. Not only was he the world’s greatest rock promoter—he’d put on the Watching Druids concert, where all this had started last night—he travelled around the world with presidents and prime ministers, donating huge amounts of money and leading efforts to fight hunger. He was also a genius in mathematics and physics, and he’d done incredible work in applying those sciences to modern music. But he was very reclusive, rarely making public appearances, and he spurned any kind of glossy lifestyle, coming across as an ordinary guy who happened to have an IQ off the charts and a couple of billion dollars to give away.
“I just found him a little while ago,” Barry said. “I heard him moaning—it looks like he’s hurt pretty bad.”
“Did he say anything?”
“That’s even weirder than him showing up here. He was mumbling, so it was hard to understand, but he asked me something like: ‘Do you have him?’ I said, ‘Who’s him?’ Then he asked if I had friends, and I said yeah, but I didn’t know where you guys were. He said to bring you here when I found you, and not to tell anyone else. I said, ‘But you’re hurt,’ and he said just to please do what he asked, it would be okay—but it would be a lot more okay if I could get him some whiskey. I ran to the house and nicked a flask of Uncle Geoff’s single malt, and he guzzled some, then he sort of burped thanks, and closed his eyes and went quiet.”
Maybe the sound of their voices brought Simon around again, or maybe he was reminded that his hand was still wrapped around the silver flask of Scotch. He brought it out from under his jacket and took a long drink, then opened his eyes.
“Please tell me that you have him,” he said to Artemis and Adam.
They exchanged quick glances. Was he talking about Orpheus? How could he know? And could they risk letting the cat, or head, out of the bag with him—and Barry?
Simon saw their look and smiled faintly. “Don’t worry—I’ve devoted my life to studying him and protecting him. I’ve never had the chance to talk to him myself, but according to our tradition, he’s called Orpheus. You must have gotten him from Jason, who’s one of us—The Calculus.” The kids stared at him, astonished.
“How do you know who we are?” Artemis asked warily.
“A strange woman came to me last night as I was lying in a field. Long gray hair, an old-fashioned cloak—I thought she might have been an apparition. But she told me about you, along with some other things—and here you are.” Simon wheezed a little and took another belt of Scotch.
Now the connection was starting to come. Jason had been running away from the concert—Simon must have been there, too. And the woman sounded like Rainy Jane, the gray-haired lady who prowled the moors and who seemed to have mysterious knowledge about all his. She’d be easy to take for an apparition, for sure.
Then another thought hit Adam. Could this be the pathway that the Goddess had hinted about? Simon seemed to be exactly what they’d been hoping for—someone who knew about Orpheus and could help him. Besides—Adam kept getting the feeling that Simon was somehow more familiar than just the occasional news photos he’d seen. He still couldn’t place it, but the connection he felt was a good one.
Artemis seemed to have the same kind of sense about him. She caught Adam’s gaze with a slight nod. Okay, Adam decided. He was still nervous about letting Barry in on the secret, but they’d have to take that chance.
“Orpheus is right here,” Adam said. He unslung the sack and carefully lifted out the inert little head.
“Wonderful! What the woman told me was true,” Simon breathed thankfully.
Barry’s eyes went round, first with surprise, then indignation. “What the hell is that?” he sputtered. “Why didn’
t you tell me about it?”
Artemis shushed him, and Simon’s face creased with worry. “He doesn’t look good,” Simon said.
“He’s not—he’s wiped out from what he’s been through,” Adam said. “We’re hoping you can help him—but you don’t look too hot, either.”
“I had an accident,” Simon said, brushing it off.
But Artemis wasn’t going to let it go. “What kind of accident?” she demanded.
“A psychopath tried to stab me, and I accidentally let him. Look, we can work out the explanations later—we all have stories that need telling.” Including Barry, Adam realized, who was watching all this like he’d just been clobbered with a two-by-four. How had he hidden from the thugs?
But Simon went on. “I’ve been working on a way to give Orpheus an energy charge—I knew he might be weak when he awoke. But no guarantees—it’s just a theory, still on the drawing board up here.” He tapped a finger against his temple. “Now, we’ve got a ways to travel, and we’d better get moving.”
“But you need a doctor!” Artemis said.
“From the look of your bandage, my dear, so do you. I’ll manage all right, but perhaps you’d better not strain yourself any further.”
“Ohhhhhh, no you don’t! You’re not ditching me, I don’t care how famous and brilliant and bloody rich you are, Mr. Lodestone. After what we’ve been through, you honestly think I’ll go to my room like a good little girl and wait for Mummy and Daddy?” Adam noticed that her outrage made her gain a little color.
Simon’s face creased again, this time in a smile—and with that, Adam suddenly had it.
Cristof! That was who Simon reminded him of. They didn’t really look alike, but they had the same kind of craggy grin and the same kind of presence—and that was why Adam had immediately felt at home with him.
“I stand corrected,” Simon said. “Right, then, team, let’s go. Barry, you’re the designated driver. I can tell you’re a man to be relied on in a tough spot.”
Barry’s face lit up like a space shuttle launch. “You bet, Simon—you can count on me!” Then he paused uncertainly. “Um, where are we going?’
“Back to the Watching Druids,” Simon said, and raised the scotch flask to his lips. That wasn’t something Adam wanted to hear—his memories of that place weren’t exactly fond ones. But the thugs wouldn’t have any reason to be hanging around there—would they?
Then Artemis whispered, “Remember what Rainy Jane said about seeking ‘thin spots,’ and the Watching Druids is one of them?” Adam blinked—that was another thing that had slipped off his radar in all the turmoil. Well, Rainy Jane and Simon seemed to know a lot about all this, and if they both said to go there, that settled it.
The BMW was like a tank compared to last night’s little moped—it probably weighed a few hundred pounds. Adam admitted that he’d have a lot of trouble handling it, but that was where Barry’s extra size came in.
“You ever ridden anything like this before?” Adam asked him.
“Sure, moron—I’ve got a ton of friends who let me take their classic BMW’s out joyriding,” Barry hissed back.
“Keep your eyes on the road, okay? No screwing around with your phone this time.”
Barry shot him a disgusted glance. “Are you kidding? With Simon Lodestone on board?”
Great, Adam thought—it was fine to dump a bike with just me on board. But he couldn’t really blame Barry for feeling that way.
Barry clambered into the seat and wisely started making a dry run through the clutch and gears to get the feel. Luckily, the bike’s original kickstarter, which would have taken King Kong to stomp down on, had been replaced with an electric one. They ought to be able to get it going, if they could just keep it going. It must have been ridden off-highway, Adam noticed—its beautiful metallic black finish was layered with reddish brown dust, the same kind that that the moped had picked up on the dirt roads last night.
Then his gaze spotted something puzzling. The dust seemed to be peppered with small tracks, like from birds or rodents—except they had a long thin almond shape, and no claw marks. Raindrops, maybe? But those would leave splotches and streaks, and these looked pressed down into the dust.
Almost like footprints made by tiny, moccasin type shoes.
Then an obvious question occurred to him. With Simon in the shape he was in, how had he managed to handle the big motorcycle?
Simon was cradling the flask against his chest, his eyes half-closed.
“Simon, I don’t want to disturb you, but—” Adam hesitated.
“Not at all—I’m just conserving my energy,” Simon murmured. “What is it?”
“How’d you get this thing here?”
“I’m fuzzy about that. After I was stabbed, I went into a fog. Truth be told, I was blacked out a good part of the time. I have some memories, but I’m not sure if they’re real, or dreams, or hallucinations. I do seem to vaguely recall careening around like I was on a Wild Mouse ride—I must have been driving on instinct, but too out of touch to realize it. By the time my mind started to clear again, I was here.”
Adam nodded—but he was thinking about those tiny lights he’d seen at the old church last night, when Jason disappeared. He stepped over to Artemis and leaned close to her ear.
“Are there any fireflies around here?” he asked quietly.
She gave him a look that clearly wondered if he’d gone crazy—what kind of a question was that, at a time like this?
But she said, “I don’t think so. I’ve never seen one, anyway.”
“Any other kinds of bugs that light up, anything like that?”
She shook her head slowly, still giving him that look.
Then Barry hit the starter button, and the big motorcycle came alive with a roar like a fighter jet taking off, then settled into a smooth, throaty growl. This machine meant business.
“Come on, you dorks,” Barry yelled over the noise. “Me and Simon are waiting.”
Artemis and Adam rolled their eyes—me and Simon? But Barry looked happier than Adam had ever seen him—grown up, determined to shine in the eyes of the most important person in his world, who not only was sitting right beside him, but depending on his help. It was a major turnaround from the bored, spoiled kid Adam was used to. He hoped it would stick, both for Barry’s sake and his own.
“Simon’s right about you, cuz,” Adam said, giving the new Barry’s ego a boost. “When the pressure’s on, you’re a rock.”
“Yeah—good thing I was around, or else you guys would be dead in the water.”
Well, new Barry still had the bluster, but if he got them to the Watching Druids okay, Adam could happily put up with that. He climbed onto the bike behind Barry, gripping fistfuls of his jacket on each side and snugging his thighs around the broad leather seat like it was a saddle. Artemis carefully lowered herself into the sidecar between Simon’s knees, trying not to jostle him, but his eyes opened wider and he made a little “uh” grunt.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, oh cripes,” she said breathlessly.
“Quite all right, love—glad to have such a charming young lady to snuggle with. I just need to readjust a bit.”
Barry kicked the bike into first, gave it some throttle, and started letting out the clutch. In the next seconds, the difference between a machine like this and one like the moped came crashing home. The big BMW lunged forward like a bucking horse raging out of a rodeo chute, with the front wheel trying to jump up in the air and the rear spraying dirt. Only the sidecar, like training wheels on a bicycle, kept them from doing a somersault. Simon’s eyes were closed again, his face looking ashen.
Fuming with anxiety, Barry pulled the clutch back in, steadied the bike, and tried again, a little more smoothly this time. Gradually, lurching like a drunk, they started on their way.
THIRTY-NINE
Barry got the hang of it pretty fast, and he drove slowly and carefully, hunched over the handlebars with a level of concentration that Adam
had never seen in him before. In a few minutes, they were cruising along at a fairly smooth, steady clip. And luck was with them—they made the precarious ride without being seen. Artemis knew a way to get to the Watching Druids over back roads, and by now it was getting dark, especially along the maze of narrow, twisting lanes lined by tall hedges. Out here in the country, on a Sunday evening, there was nobody out and about, anyway.
Simon settled down, with the help of a couple of more slugs from the Scotch flask, and he looked like he’d nodded off. But Adam noticed that his lips were moving—twisting and grimacing as if he was arguing with somebody in his sleep—although there was too much noise from the bike to hear his words.
With the roundabout route and slow speed, it was a good half hour by the time they passed the ruined old church and climbed to the hilltop where the concert had been held. Tonight, it looked as deserted as the end of the world. But the road ended right there, and the only way to get to the great stones of the Watching Druids themselves was on foot, another fifty yards of traversing the hill’s steep slope. There were several paths, but they were all narrow and rock-studded—no way could the big, cumbersome BMW make it across them. Simon was in no shape to walk, and trying to carry him would torture his wounds even if they could manage it.
He was lying back quiet again, his eyes still closed. Barry cut the engine, and the kids climbed off the bike, stiff from chill and teary-eyed from the rush of wind past their faces.
“Any ideas, geniuses?” Barry said.
“What we need is a wheelchair,” Artemis said.
“Oh, sure—there must be a place to rent one around here.” Barry’s sarcastic tone was back—no doubt he was worried that he was going to fail in the eyes of his idol after all.
“Barry, you were terrific, getting us here—now try using your head instead of just grumbling,” she sighed. “We just might already have a wheelchair. Adam, you’re the mechanic—is there any way we could use the sidecar?”
Adam blinked in surprise—that hadn’t even occurred to him.