The Downward Spiral

by Ridley Pearson

  “Lock the window,” I said, “and pull the drapes.” I crossed my arms and sat down on the edge of her mattress.

  “Where’ve you been? As if I have to ask.”

  “Oh . . . a friend.”

  “Duh! Sherlock. Right?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Forget him, Moria. He’s way too nerdy for you. Great accent, but don’t be fooled. He’s an odd duck.”

  “Fooled?” I said. “No, NATO, I’m not fooled.”

  She wouldn’t speak to me the rest of the night.

  CHAPTER 49

  JAMES DID NOT LIKE MICE. HE DID NOT LIKE THE little turd-raisins they left behind. He did not like their squeaking. Their scratching. The way they hopped around and sat up to clean their whiskers. Ick! Eww!

  James liked music. He had something of a good “ear,” meaning he could keep a tune, could whistle in tune. It also meant he had not just good hearing, but exceptional hearing.

  He also heard things while asleep. Things that woke him up.

  The sound of a mouse. Being ground-floor dorms, all the Lower Bricks got an unfair number of rodents, roaches, spiders, and cobwebs.

  James awoke. He sat up, his senses on alert. Not on my bed, please! Please not on my bed!

  More like over on the window, he thought, scratching at the glass. But the drapes were drawn. James would have to open them to confirm his visitor.

  James fumbled to switch on the reading light clamped to his bunk frame. He stopped. Light scares mice! Light on, mouse gone. Even with the drapes drawn the light would seep through. He decided against the light. If he scared the mouse, he wouldn’t have a chance to—

  Screech! His arm hair stood on end. It wasn’t anywhere close to the sound a mouse made. It was more mechanical.

  James threw his legs up and shoved the overhead mattress to wake Sherlock. By the time Sherlock’s eyes popped open, James was standing on his mattress to be close to Sherlock’s ear.

  “Shh! Not a word!” The room being nearly pitch dark, James imagined Sherlock nodding. “We have visitors. The window!”

  Another screech.

  “Glass cutter,” Sherlock whispered. “Diamond blade. Hand-held.”

  “You are a freak,” James declared.

  “They’re not after me, dear boy,” Sherlock said. “It’s the closet or hallway for you. Now!”

  “No way!”

  “Then your lacrosse stick. Butt end. Now!”

  James whisked silently to the closet, slipped open one of its doors.

  The blinds ruffled. Wind! Through a hole in the window.

  The sound of a hand turning the lock at the top of the double-hung window frame.

  Sherlock slipped off the top bunk, grabbed up James’s desk chair, and shattered the window through the drape.

  “NOW!” Sherlock shouted.

  James charged like a knight in a lancing contest, his lacrosse stick held as the lance. He rammed into the drape where the window would have been had Sherlock not broken it. The stick hit something soft, something fleshy. A man’s scream. A thump onto the ground.

  A burst of cursing.

  Sherlock switched on the desk lamp.

  James raked back the curtains.

  Two sweating faces, obscured by shadows.

  James hollered a curse word.

  Feet coming down the hall.

  “You take the door!” Sherlock said. “Quick.”

  Distracted by addressing James, Sherlock didn’t see the arms reaching for his shoulders. He was grabbed and pulled toward the broken window.

  “James!” Sherlock called, half out the window, broken glass cutting him. “I am not James.”

  Whoever had hold of him released him.

  James took Sherlock by the ankles and fell back into the room pulling Sherlock back inside.

  “You’re bleeding,” James said.

  “Mmm,” Sherlock said, watching the stains spread across his pajama top.

  Mr. Cantell entered from the hall. He went gray at the sight of blood.

  “Better help him,” Sherlock said. Sure enough, Mr. Cantell lost his legs. James caught him and helped him to the floor.

  “What . . . just . . . happened?” James shouted too loudly for the small room.

  “We can rule out secret admirers,” Sherlock said.

  “Do . . . not . . . joke! I cannot take your jokes right now. Let’s get you out of here.” James threw a coat around Sherlock’s shoulders. The boys stepped over Cantell.

  They hobbled down the hallway, and crossed into Lower 2, staying warm. They would need to cross a field to reach the infirmary.

  “Well?” James asked.

  “I believe we thwarted an assassination attempt or a kidnapping.” Sherlock winced.

  “Forget it, don’t talk.”

  “It would appear, dear boy, someone’s after you.”

  James helped Sherlock out into the cold. He looked around, fearing the men were still about. “Once to the infirmary, we say it was a prank. Another dorm attacking ours.”

  “That’s called lying.”

  “Please!”

  “I distort the truth when required, it’s true,” Sherlock said. “Misrepresent it? Never. It becomes too easy a habit. I will remain silent for you, James. But if asked, if pushed, I’m not going to lie. The question that needs asking is, where were your bodyguards in all this?”

  “Who?”

  “Please, James, give me at least some credit.”

  “Yeah, okay,” James said. They took off toward the infirmary.

  “And for the record,” Sherlock said, “you’re welcome.”

  CHAPTER 50

  I SAID HELLO TO JAMES AS HE SETTLED INTO THE chair beside me, both of us facing Dr. Crudgeon’s desk. We said nothing. The headmaster entered after a few agonizing minutes and sat down across from us. I felt and resented the connection between James and Crudgeon. I was the outsider trying to look in as the man expressed an apology for the attack on James, which was the first I’d heard of it. I looked to my brother with sympathetic eyes, heart pounding, but he looked straight forward at Crudgeon as if I wasn’t there. We were told in a cold, calm voice that James and I would have our security tightened, including keeping our dorms under watch. I interrupted several times and was crisply told to listen. James never looked over at me!

  His voice filled with impatience, Crudgeon looked tired. He blinked repeatedly. But it was the tension in his voice that revealed his concern. His school was under threat from an outside force. My brother and I were somehow in the middle of it, and Crudgeon intended for it to end now.

  I didn’t want people watching me. How was I supposed to steal the Bible that was only a matter of a few feet behind me if I was being watched all the time?

  “Any questions?” Crudgeon asked, looking at me with a dead stare. I kept my mouth shut. “Good. You two will be allowed to use your mobile phones beyond the one-hour time limit.” He gave us a text number, telling us that any message, any character or letter, would be considered a cry for help. We were to always keep our phones unlocked and ready to send to the number. “This is your panic button. Do you understand?” We both nodded. “It is not to be used lightly. But there is no such thing as a false alarm.”

  I recalled my sense of dread earlier the night before. Had I sensed James’s attackers?

  On our way out James said, “You OK, Mo?”

  “Are you OK? That’s the question. And where’s Sherlock?”

  “I’m fine. Sherlock got cut up by a broken window. Cantell’s with him. He took a few stitches, but he’s OK.”

  “Why did you go to the museum without us?” I’d been itching to ask this question.

  He didn’t answer.

  “And what was with that drama with Lexie in the common room?”

  “Colander. I didn’t want her to have to deal with Colander, but it backfired.”

  “Did you hear about her father?”

  “It’s horrible.”

  “We rescued yo
u, James.”

  “And for that, I’m grateful.”

  “You’ve barely spoken to me since. Is that because you don’t want to explain why you sneaked out without us?”

  He looked pained. We reached the end of the hall.

  “James? Talk to me!” I saw my brother standing there, but I couldn’t feel him. “Last night must have scared you. Especially after being kidnapped. Is that what the detective wanted?”

  “Colander questioned me about the necklace.”

  “What about it?” I asked.

  “He wanted me to tell him where it is.”

  “But it’s there, in the museum, or it was when we all left.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” James said.

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “He thinks I took it, Mo. So someone took it.”

  He couldn’t look at me. I felt ice cold. He opened the door. “Please listen to Crudgeon. Be careful, Mo. If anything were to happen to you . . .”

  “It won’t.”

  “Because you’re so tough.”

  “No, because I’m so smart,” I said. “You used to be smart too, James. We used to be a team. What happened to that?”

  “Things change.”

  “Not our team. Not you and me. We never change.” My eyes stung. “Wherever you’ve gone, James, please come back.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” James asked.

  “You might want to think about it.”

  CHAPTER 51

  FRIDAY, AFTER BREAKFAST, SHERLOCK SLIPPED me a note.

  art studio study hall

  I arrived to the art studio a few minutes before the start of third-period study hall. It smelled sweet, the scent of oil paint a pleasant one. A row of high windows on three of the four walls bathed the room in natural light, canceling out shadows and eliminating the need for the overhead lights.

  Sherlock and Ruby Berliner awaited me in the back. I didn’t appreciate seeing Ruby there with him. “My plan is to bring the two halves together,” Sherlock had said. Whatever that meant! I didn’t care much for Ruby’s half.

  “You know Ruby.”

  “Hey,” I said.

  “It was Ruby’s crystals in the window that—”

  “I remember,” I said, interrupting Sherlock.

  “Voila!” said Sherlock, removing a torn piece of drop cloth from atop an object on the worktable.

  It was the Moriarty family Bible.

  “You stole the Bible? How on earth did you manage that?”

  Ruby beamed, grinning so widely I saw something green stuck to her back teeth.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” Sherlock said.

  “I was there . . . in Crudgeon’s office with James. It’s in plain sight! Are you crazy? You think he won’t miss it?”

  Sherlock knocked on the top of the Bible. A hollow sound, like tapping a cardboard box.

  I approached it, slipping past Ruby—and yes, feeling slightly jealous of her mature physique and perfect skin—and said, “Do I need gloves?”

  A smiling Sherlock shook his head no.

  I touched the cover. It was imitation leather, yet it held the exact embossed patterns as did our family Bible. It was blackened at the edges in the same way. The identical family crest and flourish of scrolling calligraphy that had a W at its center for “Wilford.”

  “Good grief. You did this?” I said.

  Ruby nodded while blushing.

  “It’s incredible.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s perfect,” I said.

  “It is, isn’t it?” But Sherlock wasn’t looking at the Bible; he was looking at Ruby. I felt a little wobbly. “She is sworn to secrecy, is our Ruby. She knows what I plan to do with this work of hers.”

  “You could get in trouble,” I warned the girl.

  Ruby shrugged. “No one saw me working on it. Only you two know.”

  “Well, we aren’t telling,” I said.

  “My point exactly,” said Sherlock.

  “I’m happy to help.”

  “Ruby is friends with Alexandria, and Alexandria with James.”

  “All the trouble this fall,” Ruby said. “Now Lexie’s dad. The attack on James. If I can do something to help, I want to.”

  I worked to contain my rising jealousy. Ruby was far too nice, far too perfect. She and Sherlock seemed meant for each other. The fact that that troubled me so much made me question my true feelings. I was twelve, I reminded myself, hearing Lois’s voice in my ear; was I supposed to have true feelings?

  “Thank you, Ruby. Moria and I will take it from here.”

  “It will take three of us,” Ruby said.

  “Excuse me?” I said.

  “To make the switch. My older brother, Sam, dabbles in magic.”

  Dabbles! Ruby Berliner used words like “dabbles.”

  “As do I,” said Sherlock. This was news to me. “Strictly an amateur magician, myself.”

  “If you intend to substitute my Bible for your family Bible,” Ruby said, looking at me, “you must use redirection and illusion. The three fundamentals are, hide it, move it, never have it there to begin with. If you intend to hide it and move it, it’s going to take three of us.”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of three o’clock in the morning. Dash in. Pluck the thing. Drop off yours. Be done with it,” said Sherlock.

  “You heard the headmaster,” Ruby said. “You really think you’re going to get away with that when the campus is in lockdown?”

  “Wait a second,” I said. “You’re saying we should switch it out when Crudgeon’s in his office? Are you insane?”

  “Those are two different questions,” Ruby said, offering me the most difficult smile to read. “I’m suggesting I call my brother. The rest is up to us.”

  CHAPTER 52

  HAVING SEEN A CHALK MARK ON THE CHAPEL stone before breakfast, James returned to the back side of the chapel after breakfast and again during his fourth-period study hall. It took him several long minutes to identify the man raking leaves.

  “Espiranzo,” James said, standing casually in case the two were seen.

  “I am glad to see you are well,” the man said. He favored his right arm slightly.

  “You’re hurt?” James took a moment to understand. “You’re who pulled the guy away from my window!”

  Espiranzo was not in the habit of confirming any information.

  “You have news for me,” James suggested.

  “Yes. It is as you said: it is believed your escape from the Meirleach has put increased pressure on those who held you.”

  “They’re going to be fired if they don’t recapture me,” James said.

  “Or worse.”

  James felt a pang of dread—men hurt or even killed because of him?

  “Your having the necklace makes you a—”

  “I don’t have the necklace.”

  “It is better when we, as brothers, speak openly and honestly.”

  “You think I’m lying?”

  The leaves spun in a small circle like a cat chasing its tail. James marveled at the perfect symmetry.

  “We are told it was stolen that same night.”

  “It wasn’t me. I guess that’s obvious. What’s so important about the stupid necklace anyway?”

  Espiranzo just stood there. “But you were there at the museum.”

  “Yeah, because—” James didn’t want to reveal he could be given orders, that he did what Lowry told him to do. He tried to think how to say it. “—we had intelligence suggesting we should take possession of it.”

  “Whoever was the source of this intelligence may have led you into a trap.”

  “He’s reliable.”

  “Know this, brother. There are those pushing for reform of the worst kind. A change your father resisted. Others, as well. With your father . . . gone, those forces of change are regrouping, strengthening.”

  “Within the Scow—”

  “Brotherhood
,” Espiranzo said, not allowing James to speak the name of the organization aloud.

  “Right.”

  “Yes. Within us.”

  A gray squirrel scurried from one tree to another, throwing leaves in its wake, only its fluffy tail visible. It raced straight up the trunk, oblivious to gravity. James thought if he’d been the squirrel he’d have fallen, the weight of Espiranzo’s message too great.

  “Lowry! Was it Lowry who was against my father?”

  “As to that, I wouldn’t know. I will not foul my neighbor’s well without good reason.”

  “Who then?”

  “It’s not for me to say.”

  “But you know?”

  “Believing and knowing are two separate things. Ehh?”

  “My roommate, the English kid. He was there at the museum. My sister too. Maybe having a heart-to-heart could tell me something.”

  “That would be up to you.”

  James filed that away. “Did the Meirleach kill my father?”

  Espiranzo looked down the rake’s handle.

  “Someone inside the Sc—otherhood?” James asked.

  He scratched at the handle’s wood grain.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” James said. “Who? Who killed my father?”

  “Lack of solid proof has been the cause of many vile crimes,” Espiranzo said.

  “Motive?”

  “As to that, there are only three motives known to man, James. Power, love, and greed.”

  “Power and greed then,” James said, tormented by the thought of Father having been murdered in our home. “Find out who gained from Father’s death, Espiranzo. Get me their names.”

  CHAPTER 53

  THE MORNING OF MOURNING ARRIVED PAINFULLY for James. He sat across the dining hall at a table of students he hardly knew. He stabbed at his food to avoid spilling on his black suit that had been hand-delivered by Ralph. He’d asked Ralph again to show him his stitches from the fight at the fish factory, but instead Ralph pulled and twisted James’s ear as he’d done since James had been a child.

  Lois awaited James in the common room and joined him after the non-meal.