The Demon Conspiracy

by R. L. Gemmill

  ***

  We arrived at the offices of the Summit Beverage Corporation at 4:47 PM. The place was a complex of multi-story buildings of different heights and shapes. The walls of each structure were made of silver, mirror-like material, bright and beautiful. It reflected trees, sky, cars, people—everything. It was like living, ever changing wallpaper on the outside of the building.

  As soon as Angie parked the minivan, Chris got out. He used his reflection from the building to straighten his tie and adjust his suit, before charging in the front door with the suitcase and the mailing tube. We were just getting out of the van when he disappeared inside.

  “I guess he doesn’t want us along after all,” said Angie, a little put out.

  A second later Chris popped his head out the door. “Let’s go! I’m late!”

  “You still want us with you?” said Angie, surprised.

  “Yes!”

  “Oh. I didn’t dress for this kind of thing.”

  “What kinda thing is it?” asked Travis. He and I both had on blue jeans and hoodies. We probably weren’t dressed for it either. We jogged to catch up, but when we did, Chris walked even faster. We finally caught him at the information desk. A sturdy looking security guard met us.

  “Can I help you?” asked the guard.

  “Yes,” said Chris in a bold, direct voice. “I’m Chris McCormick. I have an appointment with Mr. Nabors. I apologize for being late, but I assure you he will want to see what I’ve got here.”

  “Just a minute, sir.” The guard took up a phone and spoke in a low voice. He looked serious as he listened, then hung up. “You have less than ten minutes, Mr. McCormick. Mr. Nabors leaves the building promptly at five. Go through that door and take the elevator on your left to the third floor. His secretary will meet you.”

  A tall, attractive woman with dark red hair met us on the third floor, just like the guard said she would. “Are you Mr. McCormick?” she asked. “I’m Coryn Lantz, Mr. Nabors’ personal secretary. Do you realize how late you are?”

  “Yes,” said Chris. “I apologize. We got caught in beltway traffic.”

  “Don’t we all?” Coryn said it coldly, as if everybody used that excuse. “You only have five minutes to show him your product. Mr. Nabors will not stay past five P.M.”

  “I only need five seconds of his time,” said Chris. “Five seconds and he’ll become one of the richest men in the country.”

  Lantz was impressed. So was I. That was a bold thing to say. I’d never heard Chris be assertive before, except when he was grouching about us being in his basement.

  “Is this your family? Perhaps it would be better if they stayed with me? Mr. Nabors isn’t terribly fond of children, I’m afraid.”

  “They come with me,” said Chris. “I need them.”

  Angie smiled when he said it. It made her feel like maybe they still had something left of their marriage, which hadn’t been the case since we came out of Pandora’s Cave.

  Lantz opened the door to a large meeting room with a tremendous, rectangular wood table in the center. I gaped at the room. The carpet was deep red and felt thick and squishy under our feet. The wooden furniture was highly polished. Three men waited at the far end of the table, which seemed miles away from where Chris stood. A lot of money had gone into this place. Big money.

  Travis stayed close to Angie. That lady was right, he thought to me. Those men don’t like kids. They don’t like us at all.

  Do you feel ghost fingers?

  No, but they don’t want us here. They wanna go home and Chris is slowin’ ‘em down. I looked at the clock, 5:58.

  Chris signaled for us to stay where we were, then marched up to the men and set his suitcase on the table in front of them. He opened the suitcase and removed a tall, rolled up poster from the cardboard tube. He spread the poster across the table and used the men’s personal coffee mugs to hold down three of the corners. The men exchanged hostile glances when Chris handled their mugs.

  They want to throw him out! I thought to Travis.

  The elderly man seated on the right had white hair, and not much of it. He was feeble looking and had to lean on a silver cane even while he sat in the chair. The expensive suit he wore didn’t hide his shaking hands.

  The guy on the left was Asian, with cold, hard eyes that never seemed to blink. He was younger and wore an equally expensive suit, perfectly tailored. He stood against the wall with his hands before him, fingertips touching. He looked like he could have been either a hit man or an undertaker in another life. Maybe both.

  The important looking black man in the big chair at the end of the table sat up tall. He was distinguished with perfect gray hair. I thought he looked like a model, except that his eyes were intense, like a predator watching its dinner. He checked his Rolex watch. I looked up at the wall clock again. Chris only had one minute.

  The poster on the table showed a professional ad for three different flavors of his new fruit drink called “Majik Juice”. I couldn’t believe Chris was capable of making such an impressive presentation.

  “I’m Chris McCormick,” said Chris bravely. He offered to shake hands with the men, but they never moved. He went on. “You must be Mr. Nabors?”

  Nabors was the black man who sat in the middle. He made a point to glance at his watch again. “You are late, Mr. McCormick. We leave at five. You have thirty seconds.”

  Chris smiled and began with confidence and conviction. “Gentlemen, I give you the future best selling product in the history of the modern world. I call it Majik Juice. Why did I pick such a name? Because if you take but one sip of any of the three flavors I offer, I guarantee you’ll want to finish the bottle. And after that you’ll want to buy more, because it tastes so damn good!”

  He took three bottles of Majik Juice out of his suitcase. The bottles had professionally designed labels and looked as good as anything in the stores. He popped the top off each bottle.

  “I’m so sure you’ll like this and want to market it, I’m willing to offer you a personal guarantee. I will work for your company, completely free, every day for the next year if you don’t like Majik Juice. It’s that good. Here you go, gentlemen. Enjoy.”

  Chris presented each of the men with a different flavor. Nabors took the cherry flavor and glared unsmiling at Chris. He sniffed the contents of the bottle.

  “One sip,” said Chris.

  Nabors looked at his fellow executives and took a tentative sip. He swished the contents around in his mouth for a moment before swallowing it. He showed no interest or reaction at all. Suddenly, he smiled broadly and nodded at his fellows.

  “Man, he’s not kidding. That’s the best stuff I’ve ever put in my mouth! Try this!” The men traded flavors and discovered they liked one flavor as much as another. Nabors got up and shook hands with Chris.

  “This is an original recipe?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Angie from across the room. “He’s been working on it for the last month in the basement. It’s like he had this brainstorm.”

  In an instant Nabors went from hardcore executive to friendly rich guy who saw a way to get richer. He called his secretary on the intercom.

  “Coryn.” A moment later she entered the room.

  “Yes, Mr. Nabors?”

  “We’ll be staying a little late today, Coryn. Get the new product contracts.”

  “Yes, sir.” Coryn left the room a bit dazed. Travis wondered why. The bosses never stayed late before, I thought to him. Never. She returned with a large notebook and a laptop computer.

  “It’s not smart business for me to tell you this, Chris,” said Nabors. “But you’re right. That is the best drink I’ve ever tasted, and it’s not even cold! I’ll make you an offer right now for your recipe. How does one-hundred-thousand dollars up front sound? And that’s just the beginning. Our standard contract guarantees that you’ll make money on every single bottle we sell of your Majik Juice. Between profit on every bottle, profit sharing and stock options I think we
can make you rich beyond your wildest dreams! How about it?”

  “How about one million dollars up front,” said Chris, firmly. “Or I go down the street. I have a five-thirty appointment with Mr. Clark Creedon at Northern Virginia Bottlers.”

  Nabors looked flustered. “A million? That’s a lot of money, Chris.” He looked at his fellows with worried eyes.

  He’s faking it! I sent Travis the mental message and smiled. He thinks Chris should have asked for ten times that much!

  Travis almost said something to Chris, but in the end lost his nerve. These men were way too important for him to interrupt.

  Chris looked at Angie, then back at Nabors. He went through his suitcase and took out a legal sized notebook, professionally bound. He reached under his shirt and removed the small black cylinder he’d used in the basement. He gave Nabors the notebook and the cylinder.

  “This contains the exact recipe for each product,” said Chris, pointing to the notebook. “And this is the secret ingredient. Make sure you touch it only once for each bottle. I don’t think it’ll ever run out. And I can arrange for you to purchase all the ingredients at a significant discount. The Reverend Beth Ann Foster at the Peoples Way Church now grows everything you’ll need. They’re in southern California, you know.”

  Nabors smiled back at him. “I saw her in the news the other day. Her church is taking California by storm. You drive a hard bargain, Mr. McCormick. I’ll have Coryn draw up a standard contract immediately.” They shook hands. Nabors studied the bottle. “Majik Juice, that’s a clever name, with the spelling and all. Where did you come up with a name like that for a fruit drink?”

  “This is far more than just another fruit drink,” said Chris. “I think you’ll find it to be the answer to many prayers worldwide.”

  “Well it’s certainly going to answer my prayers!” said Nabors, laughing. “Just the other night I was praying for more money. And here you are. You and your Majik Juice.”

  “Your Majik Juice,” corrected Chris. “Show me where to sign.”

  24

  JON DISAPPEARS

  KELLY

  The McCormicks were overnight millionaires because Chris had invented a fruit drink that was made of, among other things, human hair and mashed up cockroaches. I wanted to mention it every time I heard Angie phone another friend to tell them about the family’s new fortune, but I always held back. What if she thought I was out of line and decided to send me back to social services? Heck, even if she believed me, and that was a BIG if, it would only ruin her good mood. For the first time in days she was really happy. I shrugged. Sometimes you need to look beyond the cockroaches.

  “Chris acted strange ever since he came out of that cave,” said Angie to one of her friends. “But now I see why. He had this great idea and he knew it would work. He’s amazing! It’s a side of him I never knew about. We’re going to remodel the entire house, and we’re finally going to convert the basement into an apartment and rent it out. I can’t wait to go shopping! I won’t have to worry about credit limits because all the cards are paid off!”

  Angie was thrilled about the money and being able to spend it. I was too, because part of the spending meant new clothes and more nice things for all of us. I might even make a serious effort to keep my room clean now. Chris had gotten a fair deal with City Bottling and pretty much set up our family with income for life. But since his “product making” hoopla was over, Chris didn’t seem to care anymore. He stayed out of the basement and had completely given up teaching. He just sat in the den and watched soap operas and talk shows on TV all day.

  Angie pretended not to notice the way he was, but I knew better. I’d gone into her mind and picked up enough lingering worries about Chris to know she cared very much about how he was acting now. On the other hand, they had so much money, and thinking of new ways to spend it made it difficult to stay in a worrying frame of mind. When Angie came up with a new project idea, she’d go into the den and ask Chris about it. His response was usually a nod or a grunt, but that was good enough for Angie. She’d run off and make a list, leaving Chris to flip channels until he found another show.

  I heard it all while I sat on the living room sofa and tried to read a book for school. Though I had the ability to scan the minds of many people at once and now knew I could even control them, I still had difficulty focusing on a book when more exciting things were going on around me. I listened to Angie instead of staying involved with the chapter. Even more distracting, Travis came downstairs wearing his winter coat. He stood at the front door like he was looking for someone.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “The Dunlops are pickin’ me up. We’re goin’ to an ice hockey game at the arena.”

  “Good idea with the jacket. I hear it’s freezing in there.”

  “Well, duh. Why do you think they call it ice hockey?”

  I ignored his sudden attitude. “I thought you were grounded.”

  “Angie let me off.”

  I shrugged again and tried to read some more. Jon came downstairs, still wearing the same T-shirt he’d had on for days, but he‘d changed into blue jeans. He cleared his throat to get everybody’s attention. “I have an announcement to make and I would like all of you to hear it.”

  “What’s it about?” asked Travis.

  “I will explain when everyone is here.”

  It took a few minutes for me to find Angie, and Chris just growled and refused to leave the den, but soon the four of us were gathered at the front door. Jon smiled big and seemed very excited as his gaze went from Angie to me to Travis. I got hopeful just thinking about what he might have to say. Did he have a new magic trick to show off? His announcement came as a complete shock.

  “I will not be here for Thanksgiving dinner. Tomorrow we have school for half a day and then I leave for New York City where I will become the greatest magician who ever lived.”

  “New York City?” said Travis. “Will you be back for Christmas?”

  “I will not be coming back. I have much work to do. I must work hard and fast.”

  “Not comin’ back? Ever?”

  “Not ever.”

  I certainly didn’t like the sound of that. Even if Jon was different since the cave, he was still Jon and he’d gotten a lot nicer lately. “You have to come back! What about us? You can’t leave us forever! What about Brandon? You and Brandon are gonna make movies, remember? You’re gonna be a stuntman! And what’s Maria supposed to do? You two are in love. You can’t just leave everybody!”

  “Everybody is not my concern. I have much work to do. I must work hard and fast.”

  Angie looked at Jon, clearly amazed at his boldness. She shook her head. “When did you decide this, young man? Have you spoken with Chris about leaving? Are you just going to run off?”

  “Chris knows. I am not going to run. I am going to walk.”

  “You’re going to walk all the way to New York from here? And what are you going to do when you get there? Where will you sleep?”

  “I have a place to sleep.”

  “Have you been talking to somebody on the internet? Do you realize how dangerous that is?”

  “He sold his computer, Angie,” I reminded.

  “Oh. Well, the answer is still no. You’re not going. Don’t even ask again.”

  “I did not ask. I am going. I must work hard and fast.”

  “You’re just like your father! Every other sentence out of your mouth is ‘I must work hard and fast!’ Don’t you get tired of saying that?”

  I cringed. Angie had called Chris Jon’s father. I expected Jon might explode, but to my surprise, he didn’t say a thing. Maybe he hadn’t noticed.

  Angie continued. “Jon Robert Bishop, you are not going any place over the break. We’re having our first official Thanksgiving dinner together as a family. It’s something I’ve wanted to be able to do to my whole life. If you try to go, I’ll call the police and have you picked up as a runaway. How could you just le
ave Kelly and Travis like that? Besides, how are you going to walk to New York and get back here by Monday? Did you forget about school?”

  “I am done with school. I will not be coming back. I will be the greatest magician in the world and I will start my tour in New York City.”

  “Your tour?” Angie was incredulous. “Who do you think you are? David Copperfield? He’s the greatest magician in the world and it took him years and years to reach that level. You don’t just go out and do shows!

  “Listen to me, Jon. You’re a high-school boy with big dreams, really good talent and no opportunities. You have no money and no contacts. If you really want to set up some shows, Chris and I can work it out. We have extra money now. But you have to start locally and you have to finish high school. I know you’re good at magic, I saw you levitate at school the other day. But you have to take it one step at a time. And you are not quitting school for this. Nobody will pay to see just two or three tricks!”

  “They will pay to see me. I am the greatest. And money is not a problem.” Jon turned his palms down and turned them back. In each hand were two stacks of twenty-dollar bills, still in the wrappers. My eyes bulged. Angie jumped back.

  “Did you steal that?” I asked. Jon half-smiled back at me, but remained secretive.

  Jon gave Angie the cash. “Money is no object. I am leaving tomorrow after school. Do not try to stop me.”

  “I will stop you!”

  Jon smiled and went into the den. Angie followed him. “I mean it, Jon! Wait till I tell your father about this!”

  I held my breath, again waiting for Jon’s response about the father comment. But he offered no reaction. Talk about focused. Jon was so intent on going to New York he didn’t seem to care about anything else.

  A moment later a car honked outside and Mathew Dunlop appeared at the front door. Travis let him in. “Come on in, Mathew.”

  Mathew was dressed impeccably as always, wearing khaki slacks with a green sweater. He seemed to be in a hurry. “Hey, Ms. Angie. Hey, Kelly. Come on, Travis, we have to go. Game time is in thirty minutes.”

  “Okay,” said Travis. “I’ll be right there. I gotta say goodbye to my brother. He’s goin’ to New York tomorrow to be the world’s greatest magician.” I would have corrected his grammar, but Travis was on the verge of tears. He didn’t want to see Jon leave anymore than I did.

  “Really? That’s cool. What kind of tricks can he do?”

  “I’ll tell you in the car.” Travis went into the den to find Jon. I peeked around the corner to see what he was going to say to him. To my surprise, he hugged Jon and returned to the foyer.

  “Thanks for taking him to the game, Mathew,” said Angie. “We’ll get you guys together to spend the night real soon, okay?”

  “Okay, Ms. Angie. Thanks for letting him go!” Mathew and Travis sprinted out the door as Angie waved to the Dunlops. I hung my head. I understood why Jon had to go to New York. But when he said he wasn’t coming back, well, that hurt. Was there any way to change his mind?

  JON

  On the half-day before Thanksgiving Jon placed all his books in his locker at school and walked through the hallways alone. The building was nearly empty, even most of the teachers had already gone home. As Jon rounded a corner, somebody slammed into him so hard it nearly knocked him down. He caught his balance and found himself flanked by Spider Dedmon and a wary Robbie Leach. Kurt Lazarus stood in front of him, still wearing a cast on his right hand. His nose had an odd-looking dent in it where Jon had broken it weeks before. Kurt leaned down into Jon’s face.

  “Well, if it isn’t Jon Bishop.” Kurt looked around to be sure no teachers were nearby. He put his cast hand on Jon’s shoulder and leaned close like he had something important to say. He practically whispered into Jon’s ear. “Let me tell you a little secret, Jon-boy. Your grandmother’s not here to protect you this time. Do you know what that means?”

  Jon shook his head curiously. All at once Kurt sucker-punched him hard in the gut. Jon doubled over. His eyes flashed yellow. Kurt started to laugh.

  “Now you know! Ha-ha-ha! How’d that feel, wimp?” He laughed hard and pointed at Jon. “Ha-ha-ha-ha…” All at once he froze in place and became utterly silent. Jon straightened up and continued down the hall as if nothing had happened. Kurt remained stuck in the laughing position with a stupid look on his face.

  Spider freaked out when he tried to move him. “Kurt? What’s wrong, man? Why don’t you move?”

  “What’d he do to him?” Robbie waved his hand in front of Kurt’s face. His eyes never blinked. “Kurt! Wake up, man!”

  Jon arrived at the foyer and right away noticed two sturdy policemen waiting at the doors, alert and ready. Principal Dillon was there, too. He said something into his walkie-talkie and marched toward Jon. Jon knew Dillon preferred to handle confrontational matters personally. He’d been expecting this.

  Dillon stopped before Jon, a serious expression on his face. “Jon, can we talk?”

  Jon nodded. “Sure, Mr. Dillon. What do you want to talk about?”

  “About your trip to New York. Young man, it simply isn’t going to happen.”

  Two male physical-education teachers appeared at Jon’s left. They blocked one of the hallways. To his right, three other male teachers blocked the way. One of them was Dr. Parrish, who looked at Jon with pleading eyes. Jon was surrounded.

  “It must happen,” said Jon calmly. “I have much work to do. I must work hard and fast.”

  “Jon, your foster mother is very worried about you. I get the impression she really loves you and your brother and sister. All she wants is to have Thanksgiving dinner with all of you together. Now what’s so wrong with that?”

  “Nothing is wrong with that. But I must go to New York. I am the greatest magician in the world.”

  “I understand. I heard about what you did the other day. The problem is nobody knows you’re the greatest magician in the world yet. And why would you walk? If you don’t get any rides, it could take you weeks to get there.”

  “I need to arrive at least six days before New Year’s Eve. Then the world will see the greatest trick ever performed in public.”

  “You’re not listening to me.” Dillon crossed his arms and stood before Jon like he meant business. “Your foster parents have legal custody over you while you’re in their care and still under the age of eighteen. Do you see those policemen by the door? Well, if you try to leave, they’re gonna lock you up in juvie to make sure you don’t go any place. Now I’m thinking you’d rather spend Thanksgiving with your family than with a bunch of strangers in jail. Jail’s a rough place, Jon.”

  “I have much work to do. I must work hard and fast.”

  “Does that mean you’re still going to New York?”

  “Of course.” Jon turned and started for the door. The cops moved toward him. The teachers all moved toward him. Suddenly, Maria and Brandon burst in. Maria ran to Jon. She pleaded with him.

  “Jon, please don’t go. For me, okay? Don’t you remember what we had?”

  “Yeah, Jon,” said Brandon. “You can’t leave now, man. I’m gonna buy another camcorder, okay? We’re gonna make that movie, the one I wrote a script for, like what we talked about. Let me show you the script, it’s in the car.”

  Jon paused ten feet from the door. The cops stopped, the teachers stopped, and Brandon stopped. Maria hugged him. She kissed him on the lips, but he was unresponsive.

  “You don’t love me anymore, do you Jon?” she asked in a low voice.

  “Actually, Maria, I have never loved you.” Jon’s response was icy cold. Maria shook her head and backed away from him.

  “I hate you,” she said just above a whisper. Brandon fell in stride with her as she went away.

  “He didn’t mean it, Maria,” Brandon said to her. He looked back at his friend. Jon half-smiled at him. “He’d have to be nuts to say something like that to you.”

  Maria rubbed some gathering tears from her eyes. “It
doesn’t matter, I’ve put him out of my heart.” She stopped and looked back at Jon one last time. “And I’m not letting him back in. Ever.” Having said that, they left.

  One of the cops stepped up to Jon. “Jon Bishop, we need you to come with us. We’re going to take you home, or we’re going to take you to jail. The choice is yours.”

  Jon looked out the windows by the doors. Angie, Kelly and Travis were outside waiting for him. He returned his gaze to the cop.

  “You just do not understand, do you?” he said, smiling. “I am the greatest magician in the world. I have a show to do and I need to start my journey. Watch for me on TV.”

  He smiled at them and calmly crossed his hands in front of his waist. Then he vanished.

  KELLY

  Travis and I watched the whole thing through the front window. For a moment I thought maybe some glare had interrupted my view of Jon. But Angie saw it too.

  I looked at Travis, astonished. “Did you see that? Where’d he go?” Travis only shrugged.

  “I don’t know.” Angie stared unblinking.

  “Maybe he really is the world’s greatest magician!” said Travis. Angie gave him a tragic look of confirmation and hurried inside the school.

  Mr. Dillon, the cops and the teachers gawked at the empty space in front of them. Nobody moved except Parrish. He went to the spot where Jon had stood and looked up and down and all about. He got on his knees and felt around on the floor. He stood up shaking his head. “He’s gone all right. And he sure didn’t use any smoke and mirrors.”

  “So how’d he do it?” asked one of the cops. “Did he say he was a magician?”

  “The greatest magician,” said Dillon. “He thinks he’s going to be on TV.”

  “If he can do stuff like that, he will be,” said the other cop. “Do you still need us, Mr. Dillon?”

  “No. Thank you, officers. We’ll look around some more, but I doubt we’re going to find him anywhere in this building.” Dillon went to where Jon had been standing and stomped his foot on the floor. “Tile on top of solid concrete. Unless I’m mistaken, that was no trick. Somewhere along the way that boy has picked up some real magic!”

  JON

  Traffic on Route 50 was heavy and so was the pall of dark clouds that promised to bring rain or snow very soon. Jon Bishop walked along the road with a determined smile on his face, carrying nothing at all. Several cars had slowed and nearly pulled over, as if the drivers were considering offering him a ride. But instead, they sped up and took off. Few people in northern Virginia picked up hitchhikers and this guy wasn’t even sticking his thumb out.

  But one car did slow down. Sitting behind the wheel of his high-performance Chevy Nova, Robbie Leach slowed the car to match Jon’s pace and pulled up along side of him. Kurt Lazarus was in the passenger seat, with Spider Dedmon in back. Kurt rolled down the window and leaned outside. He was furious.

  “You made me look like a jackass, Bishop! I’m taking care of you right, this time!” Kurt withdrew a small caliber handgun from his pocket.

  In the back seat, Spider panicked. “No, Kurt! Are you crazy? I don’t wanna go to jail!”

  Jon stopped walking. He smiled at Kurt. “What do you think you are going to do with that, Kurt? Take a cold shower?”

  “I’m poppin’ you good!” Kurt squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. He looked down at the gun, which had somehow changed into a common bar of soap. Kurt was so shocked he dropped the soap. “Get outta here!” The car sped off. Jon continued his walk as it began to rain.

  A few minutes later a pickup truck pulled off the road. The elderly man inside the truck leaned over the seat and opened the passenger door. “You need a ride, son?”

  Jon nodded. “Yes, thanks. I have much work to do. I must work hard and fast.”

  “Well, I don’t know how fast I can get you to work in holiday traffic, but it’ll be faster than walking. And a whole lot dryer. Hop in.”

  Jon got in and closed the door. The truck drove off.

  25

  CHRIS GOES INSANE

  KELLY

  When we got home, Chris was pacing through the house and mumbling to himself like something really bothered him. He walked right by us three times, nodding or shaking his head, but never seemed to notice we were there. It was like he was having this great internal debate, but I couldn’t read his mind so I had no way to tell if anybody was winning the argument.

  We followed him back into the den where I noticed right away the TV was turned off. Did that mean he’d gotten over his infatuation with soap operas? As weird as Chris had been lately I’d never seen him like this. When he walked by us for the fourth time, Angie caught his arm and made him stop. Chris stared straight down, as if all his problems were located on the floor.

  Angie spoke to him in a soft voice. “Chris, honey? Did you lose something?”

  Chris snapped his head up suddenly, the look in his eyes pure madness. He waved his arms dramatically. “I’ve done my work! I worked hard and fast! I don’t know what to do now!”

  I sent Travis a mental message. I think I know why I haven’t been able to read his mind since the cave. If he was possessed he’d be human and I’d still be able to read him, right? I mean, I can read anybody unless they’re crazy, so he’s got to be crazy! Should we call the police?

  Not yet, thought Travis. I don’t feel any ghost fingers. Angie’s nervous, though.

  She ought to be. If he’s crazy anything could happen!

  Travis nodded in agreement, but never took his eyes off Chris.

  Angie held Chris’ hand and stroked his arm to calm him. “Chris, listen to me. Jon went to New York all by himself. I’m so worried about him. We all are.”

  “Yeah,” said Travis for support. “He disappeared in fronta everybody! Bam! He was gone!”

  Angie looked at her husband pleadingly. “If I hadn’t seen it myself, I never would have believed it. Chris, what are we going to do?”

  We all waited while his disturbed gaze darted back and forth between us. It was like he could no longer focus on any single thought or object.

  Chris continued, still animated. “Jon had to go to New York. He has much work to do. But I don’t. Now I got nothing!” He wandered off into the living room again, wringing his hands.

  About then Granny came downstairs, clearly not in the mood for more weirdness from Chris. She watched him intently as she spoke.

  “He’s been like that for over an hour,” she said. “I think he’s lost it, Angie. Maybe we should call the hospital?”

  “And tell them what exactly? Stay out of it, Matilda.” Angie was defensive. I zoomed in on her thinking and found out she was on the verge of a breakdown herself. Her love for Chris was unconditional and she wasn’t about to admit he was insane. Not yet, anyway. She didn’t want her prodigal mother giving her advice.

  “Sure,” said Granny a little put out. “So where’s Jon? Did the police take him?”

  I quickly explained what had happened at school. Granny was amazed.

  “He just disappeared, you say? Right in front of everybody?”

  “Vanished!” said Angie. “The principal was standing barely five feet away from him. This day is turning into a nightmare. I need coffee.”

  “Better make that two,” said Granny. “And make it strong.”

  “Three, please,” I said.

  Travis frowned. “I don’t like coffee, but I need somethin’, too.”

  Angie turned before she headed for the kitchen. “And one hot chocolate?”

  Travis nodded vigorously. “Thanks, Angie.”

  When Angie was gone, Granny whispered to us. “Do you think Chris has gone loony?”

  I nodded. “What should we do?”

  “I don’t know. Of course, it’s not all bad. He did come up with that Majik Juice stuff and I’d say he’s done right well for himself. Wish I could cook like that.”

  “If you don’t mind cooking with cockroaches and human hair,” I said. “Trust me, Gr
anny, you don’t ever want to drink it.”

  “Cockroaches, you say? He put ‘em in the drink? I’ll take your advice, then. Never liked bugs in my beverage all that much, unless I felt like a crunchy snack, of course.” Under her breath I heard her mutter, “It’s a good thing I showed up when I did. Something strange is going on around here.”