Edgewood Series: Books 1 - 3

by Karen McQuestion

  The professor pointed to the goggles, still dangling from Mr. Specter’s hand. “What do you have there?” he asked groggily.

  “Oh, this?” He looked at it as if just noticing it. “This is my new invention. I call it the Deleo. But it’s not important. I’ll show it to you another time.” He stuffed the Deleo and the remote into his backpack, and pulled out a flashlight. “Can you make it to your bedroom by yourself?”

  Professor Neverman harrumphed. “I’m not so bad that I need another man’s help getting to my bed, Sam. Between you and Elena fussing over me all the time, a person would think I was dying. And believe me, I have no intention of letting that happen anytime soon.”

  “Of course not, Professor.”

  After Professor Neverman had struggled out of the chair and left the room, and Mr. Specter had exited through the courtyard, I wished myself back to my room. Even after I was back I was so hyped up, I had trouble sleeping. Just when I would start to doze, I’d hear odd creaking noises from elsewhere in the building. And to make it worse, my mind stirred with troubling thoughts—how could all of us have misjudged Mr. Specter? He was supposed to be our protector, the one who looked out for us, our guide. Instead, he turned out to be a completely self-serving, evil man. I thought of my mother and all her irrational fears about the dangers of the world. It turned out she was right after all.

  Finally, when I was tired of obsessing, I astral projected to Russ who was blissfully sound asleep. He looked so sweet, lying on his side, one arm outside the covers. I tried to mentally nudge him awake, but he was out cold. Finally, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me, I told him everything I’d heard and seen between Professor Neverman and Mr. Specter. “I’m worried, Russ. I’m really worried,” I said at the end. “He’s going to try and wipe out our memories and replace them with other memories. And then he’s going to make you go undercover. I’m afraid I’m going to lose you.” Russ exhaled suddenly, and made a sharp exclamatory kind of noise. It almost seemed like he heard me. “Russ?” I tried. But he just rolled over, and didn’t acknowledge me at all.

  I finally went back to my room to try to get some sleep. It had been such a long day.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Russ

  Mrs. Whitehouse was firm that Nadia shouldn’t be disturbed the next morning. Just as I was about to knock, she pulled me away from the door. “No, no, no,” she said. “Let her sleep. That little lamb was up late with a terrible headache. I heard her rustling around in there all night long. Leave her be.”

  I still had my hand raised. “But—”

  She shook her head firmly. “Give her another hour or so. The poor thing has to be exhausted.”

  Mallory dug in her purse to find pen and paper, wrote a quick note saying we all went down to breakfast, then slid it under Nadia’s door. Even with the note it felt weird to leave Nadia behind, and not just because I promised her dad I’d watch over her. “What if she can’t figure out how to get to the kitchen?” I said to Mallory, as we all clomped down the stairs. It was entirely possible. The place was a maze.

  On the stairs below, Mrs. Whitehouse overheard me. “Don’t be fussing about that,” she said with a slight turn of her head. “Nadia’s a smart girl. She’ll be fine.”

  “I know she’s smart,” I said, to no one in particular. That wasn’t really the point.

  “I’ll come up myself and get her after we eat,” Mrs. Whitehouse said. “Goodness gracious, I wish I had a gentleman who was as concerned about my well being.” She clearly directed this at Kevin.

  Kevin Adams, rubbing his eyes, said, “Don’t look at me; I can barely take care of myself.” He cleared his throat, a guttural early morning sound, like he was getting warmed up. I had the feeling that he’d rather be sleeping. He had the shadowed look of a man who hadn’t bother to shave.

  Mallory pulled Jameson and me aside on the landing, and whispered, “Do you want to hear some gossip?” Her eyes shone with excitement.

  “Sure,” Jameson said. I shrugged.

  “Kevin told me last night that Mrs. Whitehouse has never been married. Whitehouse has always been her name. One day she just randomly decided to make it Mrs.”

  “Interesting,” I said, mainly to be polite. I looked back up the stairs, wishing that Nadia would appear. Her not being with us was just wrong.

  “I don’t get it though,” Mallory said. “Why would someone pretend to be married?”

  “Maybe she’s pretending to be divorced,” I said.

  “Come on, kids. Try and keep up,” Mr. Specter called out, and we jogged down to catch up.

  After a delicious breakfast of eggs and sausage, cooked and served by Elena, we were ushered into a nearby room for our briefing. “About Nadia?” I said to Mrs. Whitehouse, after she’d plopped herself onto the most comfortable chair in the room.

  “Yes, Russ,” she said, sounding irritated. “I haven’t forgotten. I’ll go check on her.”

  But she didn’t move. “I can go get her,” I said, heading to the door.

  “Stop right there!” she said. “I said I’d go and I will.”

  I paused in the doorway until Mr. Specter calmly said, “Come back, Russ. Let Mrs. Whitehouse go up and get Nadia. You’ll need to hear the presentation.”

  “Doesn’t Nadia need to hear the presentation?” I asked.

  “We’ll get her caught up later,” he said.

  I reluctantly sat down, and just as reluctantly Mrs. Whitehouse left the room.”I need to stop at the bathroom first,” she muttered on the way out. I could imagine her trudging up the stairs, one tread at a time. It would probably take her half an hour to walk what would have taken me five minutes and who knows how long she’d spend in the bathroom. I noticed that she spent an unusual amount of time in the ladies room. I could practically be at Nadia’s room already.

  Mr. Specter encouraged us to get comfortable in the sitting area. The rugs on the floor and the paintings both said Peru, but the navy blue upholstery on the two couches and chairs reminded me of a hotel lobby. While we were getting situated he crossed the room, and lifted a large painting from the wall, revealing a flat screen behind it.

  “Nice trick,” Kevin said, “Specter the magician! Presto change-o.”

  “Let’s try to set an example for the students, shall we?” Mr. Specter was all business. “Some of what you’ll see today we’ve covered already, so I’m going to go over it quickly. When I’m finished, I’ll answer any questions you might have.” He was back in teacher mode, pacing like he did in the classroom. “Afterward, I’d like to meet with each of you in private, one at a time for some testing, if you’re agreeable. An assessment of your powers. Nothing too difficult, I assure you, although it might be temporarily tiring. People generally need about an hour of downtime to recover, but I’m willing to bet the Edgewood gang does better than most.” He chuckled and then used a remote to cue the first image on the screen. “And so we shall begin.”

  We got a short rundown on the history of the building we were in—a monastery of nuns, he called it, although it was commonly known as a convent. Built in the 1500s, a new addition was added around the time of the American Revolution. Many of the nuns came from wealthy families who paid dowries when their daughters entered the religious life. We had passed the church associated with this monastery on the drive in, he said, although none of us had noticed it.

  Always the good student, Mallory sat attentively, hands folded in her lap, taking it all in. Jameson too was focused on the screen in front of us. Me, I was feeling fidgety, thinking about Nadia. I replayed the scene from last night in my head one more time, pleased to have a secret memory I could bring out anytime I wanted. I could hear her voice too, telling me that we were okay. And something else she’d said too—I struggled to remember what it was. They want to erase our memories. No, that couldn’t be right. Replace our memories? Was I remembering a movie? Something from the Syfy channel?

  “Excuse me, Mr. Specter?” Mallory’s voice cut in
to my thoughts. Jarred, I turned my head to see she’d raised her hand.

  He pointed to her with one finger. “Yes, Miss Nassif?”

  “Who owns the building now?”

  “Who owns it?”

  “Yes.” She cocked her head to one side. “Does Professor Neverman own it?”

  “No, Professor Neverman is a guest here. The owner listed on the paperwork is a well-known corporation, but that’s just a front. This building and most of the land for miles around is actually owned by the Praetorian Guard, but it has an even more interesting history than I mentioned previously. You should know that at one time, many decades ago, this property was used by the Associates. We purchased it with the idea that they may have left something of interest behind. Nothing of that sort has been found, but now, of course, it’s been listed as a location on David Hofstetter’s coordinates, which led us to revisit the site on this trip.”

  The next section of his presentation focused on the history of the Praetorian Guard and the Associates. We saw again how the Guard was established to countermand the diabolical plans of the Associates including but not limited to: government takeovers, military coups, famines, and genocides. The images were disturbing and graphic. People getting gunned down, floods sweeping away houses, children dying from diseases purposely spread by the Associates. It seemed that every known disaster and war had somehow been set in motion by them.

  After the scare tactics, we moved on to the next topic. A large age-progressed image of David Hofstetter flashed on the screen. Mr. Specter continued talking about David and how he was presumed to be dead, and my mind drifted again. I could hear Nadia’s voice in my head, crystal clear this time—they want to erase our memories. What did that mean? And when did we have that discussion?

  Something else popped into my brain—Nadia saying: it’s called a Deleo. A Deleo? Okay, this was getting really weird. I wished I had Internet access so I could look up the word and see if that was an actual thing. I wondered if I was melding a memory with some late night television, or maybe a comic book. I couldn’t place the conversation or the word.

  Mr. Specter’s voice got louder and he was gesturing to the screen—a diagram of the grounds, including a chapel in back, and another building, currently used for storage. “Once I’m done with your individual testing, you are free to explore the grounds. There are no restrictions except for Professor Oswald’s private quarters, which are here.” He pointed to a spot on the map. “You’ll know that you found his residence because his doors will be locked.” Mr. Specter grinned. “Take that as a clue to keep out. Otherwise, you may go anywhere else. You’re on your own for lunch—help yourself to whatever you find in the pantry closet and refrigerator. Dinner will be served at seven. Any questions?”

  Mallory lifted a finger. “Will we see Professor Neverman again?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so, but he’s a very busy man so I can’t say for sure.”

  “Any other questions?”

  “I have one.” This from Jameson. “Are you assuming we’ll be joining the Praetorian Guard?” His tone was a little antagonistic.

  “I assume nothing,” Mr. Specter said. “I’ll test you and give the results to the Guard. If there’s a need for your kind of talent, you will be contacted and can decide on your own whether or not you’re interested. Regardless, they will do everything in their power to protect you if they have information that you may be in danger. Do you follow?”

  Jameson nodded. “Yeah, I follow.”

  “I’ve got a question.” Mallory raised her hand. “What’s our third location? Where are we going next?”

  “We’re visiting some Incan ruins,” Mr. Specter said.

  Mallory’s eyes widened with interest. “Machu Picchu?”

  “No, not Machu Picchu. Another one. A lesser-known, smaller site.”

  “These Incan ruins were on Gordon Hofstetter’s paper?” Jameson asked.

  “Of course,” he said. “And now, if there aren’t any more questions, we’ll start the testing. Who wants to go first?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Nadia

  When I heard the sharp rap on my door, I incorporated it into a dream I was having involving bandits with guns and Mr. Specter forcing the Deleo over my face. I’d had a terrible night’s sleep, at first wide awake from worrying about everything I’d heard and experienced, and then fighting off nightmares playing out the worst of my fears.

  Another knock. In my dream, soldiers were coming for me. If I just hid under the covers, maybe they wouldn’t see me and would go away…

  “Nadia?”

  They knew I was here. I froze. If I didn’t make a sound, they might leave and try somewhere else.

  “It’s Mrs. Whitehouse. Time to wake up.”

  I quickly sat up and noticed the sliver of daylight underneath the bottom edge of the heavy curtain. Rising so suddenly made my head swim, but even through the haze I had some rapid fire thoughts, registering the place, the time, and the person at the door. How did I sleep so late?

  “Dear, can you please answer so I know you’re okay?”

  I rubbed my eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just waking up.” I raised my arms and twisted to stretch.

  “All right.” From the sound of it, Mrs. Whitehouse was leaning against the door jamb and talking right into the crack. “You’re going to want to get ready quickly so you can join the others. I’m afraid you missed breakfast and probably Mr. Specter’s presentation.”

  I leaped out of bed and threw open the door. “Everyone is up already?” I couldn’t keep the frantic tone out of my voice. “Why didn’t someone wake me?”

  “Russell wanted to, but I told him to let you sleep. I knew you had a rough night—”

  “I’ve got to get ready.” I slammed the door in her face. She was still talking, but I didn’t care. I scavenged for some acceptable clothes, dressed, and pulled a comb through my hair. Lastly, I pulled on my hooded sweatshirt, the security blanket of clothing. I almost left then, but reconsidered and went into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I tried to go as fast as I could, but it felt like I was walking through water.

  My mind raced with what I would tell Russ. Everything, of course, but what would we do about it? If we went along with what Mr. Specter wanted, our lives would be ruined. If we didn’t, we’d most likely be killed. Collateral damage. A necessary evil. Like he was talking about troops in a war zone instead of high school students. And Russ and I, two high school students in love. In love. In spite of the terrible situation I was in, I found it hard not to smile.

  When I opened the door, Mrs. Whitehouse was still leaning against the door frame. I brushed past her. “Come on, we need to get going.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Russ

  Mallory offered to go first, and so she and Mr. Specter took off down a long corridor to what he called, “a quieter, less distracting location.”

  I heard their footsteps echo on the hardwood floor and Mallory’s voice saying, “What’s in the backpack?”

  Mr. Specter said, “All kinds of fun gadgets. Just wait and see.”

  After they’d left, Kevin Adams picked up the painting and hung it so it covered the screen. He took a step back, to see if it was aligned, but before he could make a move, Jameson pointed with one skinny finger and adjusted it using telekinesis. “Nice!” Kevin said approvingly.

  “You really didn’t know there was a screen back there?” I asked, feeling just a little bit smug. I’d known it was there. As soon as I walked into the room I sensed the electricity behind the picture; to me it felt very much like the television in our hotel room.

  Kevin grinned. “I don’t know nothin’ from nothing.’ Just along for the ride. Sam Specter is the brains of the operation. Sometimes he asks my opinion about ‘hypothetical situations,’” he said using finger quotes. “But that’s about it. We’re friends, but he’s more into the Guard thing than I am.”

  “How come?” I asked.


  Kevin shrugged. “I’m kind of a non-conformist. That doesn’t sit well with the higher ups.”

  “Yesterday one of the gunmen said that Mr. Specter was the target, the one they wanted,” Jameson asked. “Why would that be?”

  Kevin said. “Totally random as far as I know.”

  I wanted to ask about Mr. Specter saying he was going to have to die, but before I had the chance, Jameson started bragging about his top secret surveillance invention, and how it would make him a millionaire when he finally patented it. Not too long ago, he’d sworn me to secrecy, and now he was blabbing it to Kevin Adams like it was regular conversation. Jameson’s voice droned on, reminding me of the marathon phone calls my mother had with my aunt, and I found my mind wandering. I could see that Kevin found Jameson’s rambling fascinating, but then again, he hadn’t heard about this fabulous invention already.

  Back at the hotel in Miraflores, when we’d taken turns using Mr. Specter’s phone to call home, I’d made a point to listen in on Jameson’s end of the conversation. We were in Kevin and Mr. Specter’s room, so there was no getting completely away from the group, but Jameson tried, walking over to the window and cupping his hand over the bottom of the phone.

  At first I heard him talk to his father, or at least I think it was his father. It could have been the head of his platoon the way he kept saying “Yes sir,” and “No sir.” After that he must have spoken to a succession of younger brothers, all of them with names starting with J. He gave them instructions—things to do to keep their mom from having a breakdown. Everything from not arguing with each other to keeping the volume of the TV down low, to putting their cereal bowls in the dishwasher. At one point I overheard him say, “While I’m gone you’re the oldest brother, and I expect you to do everything the way I would do it. Make me proud.” It was kind of weird frankly. Like his mom was unstable and his dad was all military and the kids were their own unit.