by Nathan Roden
“How is that going? How about quadruple the orders from last Christmas! The U.K. almost matched the totals from the States, all by themselves!”
“Wow. Go, Dad,”
Dad had just sunk his first billiard ball. He was high-fiving with Q and Oliver—and Duncan.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom look at Dad in a way that I couldn’t even remember. I liked what I saw there.
Nate called. He and Tooie were coming over later.
It might be a long time before my career alongside Skyler KwyK allows me to contribute my own material, but I plan to be prepared for that day.
My one Christmas wish has always been
To have a magic box to put this day inside of
So when I’m down or I’m troubled or I’ve forgotten how to feel love
I can climb into the box and lock myself in—and go to heaven again.
I can find heaven again.
Eight
Tara Jamison
London, England
Tara knew little about the transit systems. Her family had moved so many times that she was never able to learn much about her temporary living conditions. She purchased two changes of clothes and a pair of large sunglasses. She searched for a cafe near the train station—one that had a television station tuned to a news channel. There was no mention of Dr. Adrian Crane.
Tara scanned the newspapers at the station kiosks. No mention of Crane there, either. Tara relaxed and walked to the queue to buy her ticket.
She gave the name of Tara Alexander.
“A wee bit young to be traveling alone, aren’t we, Miss?” the older woman asked.
“It’s the only way I get to visit my Dad,” Tara said. “Money is tight, these days.”
“Aye, you’ve said a mouthful there, Lass,” the woman said. She leaned forward and whispered. “Do yourself a favor—” she looked down at the ticket that she had just put down on the counter.
“Tara. You’re a very pretty young girl. Buy yourself a big, bulky sweater and keep it wrapped around you. I don’t mean to frighten you, but there are all kinds about.”
The woman’s eyes flicked toward a man seated nearby. He wore a dark coat and had his hat pulled low. He stared at Tara the way a wolf looks at a young sheep.
“Thank you,” Tara said. She hurried off. Her train pulled in and Tara walked slowing behind the other boarding passengers.
The men grabbed Tara roughly by both of her upper arms. She cried out, but a strong gloved hand covered her mouth. She was being dragged away by two men—one was the man seated by the ticket counter.
A man and a woman who were in the queue behind Tara grabbed hold of the men.
“What do you think you’re up to, now?” the man growled. He drew back his fist.
Four policemen inserted themselves in the middle of the situation.
“Mind your business, now, Mate,” one policeman said to the man who had come to Tara’s rescue.
“This girl is a runaway,” another policeman explained to the rest of the crowd. “She’s been breaking into homes and stores and stealing her way across the city. Go on about your business—we’ve got the situation in hand.”
The men dragged Tara through the terminal. She continued to struggle. She bit the gloved fingers that covered her mouth, only to have it replaced by a ball gag. The policemen surrounded her in an attempt to hide her from the gawking crowds.
Tara’s first thought was to create a catastrophe—an immense ball of fire, or an explosion. But she realized that her life would be over if she did such a thing. Even if she got away, this place was too big and too crowded.
They would search for her for the rest of her life. She would never see her parents again. They might even threaten her Mum and Dad to make her turn herself in—and then she would become the most famous lab-rat in the history of mankind.
The men finally pulled Tara through a door and into a large conference room. Six other men were waiting there. She recognized one of them. He wore a cast that covered half of his upper body, along with a sling. He looked ten years older than the last time Tara had seen him.
“Of course, that’s her,” Adrian Crane said. He turned and left the room without another word.
Robert Jamison held Emily’s hands as he tried to comfort her. Emily had been at the police station for over an hour. Robert has just arrived, after being notified that Tara was in custody. He had helicoptered in from a military base. He wore his officer’s dress uniform.
Robert helped Emily to her feet as four men in suits approached them.
“Why can’t we see her?” Emily asked.
The man who stood closest to them glanced at Robert for a moment. He spoke to Emily.
“Mr. And Mrs. Jamison, we had intended to hold Tara for questioning. Dr. Adrian Crane sustained severe injuries at the time of Tara’s visit to his office two days ago.”
“Surely, you don’t think that Tara—?” Robert said.
“I know that it sounds absurd,” the man said.
“Who are you?” Emily asked. “You’re not in uniform. You could be anyone—”
The men produced rather plain badges indicating their association with Scotland Yard.
“I’m sorry, but those look like something purchased at a novelty shop,” Emily said.
“Our particular department does not abide publicity, Madam,” the man said. “That would not serve Queen or country well. I’m certain that you understand, Major Jamison?”
Robert nodded.
“Of course.”
“Please have a seat,” the man said.
“I cannot sit down!” Emily said. “Not while my daughter is—!”
“Please be quiet, Emily,” Robert put his arm around her. “This helps nothing.”
A uniformed officer hurried over and whispered to the man from Scotland Yard.
“We have use of a private office,” the man said. “Please join us.”
They were seated in a small conference room.
“I want to see my daughter!” Emily pleaded.
The man from Scotland Yard shook his head.
“We can’t allow that at this—”
“Why can’t we just see her?” Robert asked. “I’m sure she’s frightened out of her wits—”
“I don’t think she’s frightened in the least, Major. In fact, I’m afraid that we’ve had to have her restrained.”
“Restrained?” Emily cried.
“What are you talking about?” Robert shot to his feet. “She just a little—”
The four men from Scotland Yard stood. They unbuttoned their jackets, all at the same time.
“She is not just a little anything!” the man in charge said. “It would have taken a fully-grown monster of a man to do what was done to Dr. Crane’s arm. Look, the doctor didn’t want Tara punished. But he also believes that she is quite dangerous. At this point, we’re just trying to get some answers—and we want to help your daughter. Let’s try and remain calm. Please be seated.”
They all sat and were quiet.
The man took a notebook from his breast pocket.
“Tara has told us nothing. In fact, she says that she will not cooperate until she speaks to one particular person. Her cousin.”
“Her cousin?” Robert said. “Which cousin?”
The man checked his notes.
“Holly McFadden.”
A uniformed officer burst into the room.
“She’s gone!” the officer said. His face was pale.
“What?” the man in charge said. “There were two officers—”
“They’ve been knocked out cold,” the officer said. He sounded as if he was on the verge of tears.
“And the window—” he said. “It looks like it was blown out with dynamite—steel bars and all!”
The man in charge grabbed one of his colleagues by the arm. In a deliberately calm voice, he said,
“Get H-Q on the line. Tell them to lock down the trains and busses—and activate A
lpha Team.”
Robert Jamison started to say something, but the man in charge looked in his eyes and shook his head. Robert put his arms around his nearly hysterical wife.
Tara tried to run, but it proved too difficult. She walked as fast as she could.
She had felt a sting in her arm as the officers placed her in restraints.
A drug, for certain, she thought.
Tara looked down at her upper arm and scowled. An almost imperceptible growl sounded in her throat. Slowly, a mixture of blood and a milky substance began to ooze from the hole in her skin. She wiped it away and shook her head a couple of times. Her thinking became clearer and strength returned to her legs.
Several blocks later she came to one of the walking tour groups that made their way through the center of the city. She stepped beside a man and wife who both had cameras around their necks.
“Excuse me. I’m supposed to meet my folks at the train station. Do you know where it is?”
“That way, Miss,” the man pointed.
“Thank you so much,” Tara said.
She walked quickly in the indicated direction. Once out of sight of the tour group, she turned and jogged in the opposite direction. She knew they would be looking for her at the train station—probably the busses as well.
Tara saw a school. She walked past the grounds. Classes were in session and the grounds were quiet. She looked around and strolled casually by the bicycle rack. She looked to find one without a lock on it. There were none.
She picked out one that was her size and looked road-worthy. Tara stared at the lock. It exploded with a puff of smoke.
Tara traveled a few miles to the south. She bought a map, a backpack, some snack food, and water. She would ride to Brighton.
After arriving in Brighton, Tara bought a change of clothes. She spent the day cruising back and forth on the street in front of a hostel. When she finally saw a group of young cyclists stop there, she fell in behind them and paid for a two-day stay. After some exhausted sleep, Tara donned her disguise and purchased a train ticket to Edinburgh.
Tara had not been to the Castle McIntyre since she was four years old. She had no way of knowing if her cousin Holly was still there. But it did not matter. She was on the run, now. As far as Tara knew, Holly McFadden was the only person in the world who might understand her situation.
During a Christmas season visit, years ago, Tara learned that she was not alone. She also learned that she did not have to fear the spirits that she could see when others could not.
No, her cousin Holly could not only see the ghosts inside of Castle McIntyre, she made friends with them.
Communicating with the dead was not where the supernatural stopped with Tara Jamison. In recent years, she had discovered the power to move objects. This both frightened and fascinated her, but it also made her feel all alone. And Tara did not need that. Her family’s vagabond lifestyle left her isolated enough as it was.
And now, Tara’s life had fallen apart—all in the course of a few days. Not only that, but she had begun to channel her power during periods of unconsciousness, like her recent experience at the London Zoo.
Tara was miserable. She was frightened, hunted, and all alone. She felt that if she did not find Holly soon, she would go mad.
Nine
Wylie Westerhouse
Branson, Missouri
St. Louis, Missouri
I stood next to my car in front of Nate’s house.
“I think we’re gonna be rooming together.”
“I can live with that,” Nate said. “What about Toby?”
“He gets his own room.”
Tooie Reznik rolled her eyes. Nate pushed her playfully on the shoulder.
“Tooie, you do know that Wylie is keeping a running total of the number of times you roll your eyes at him.”
“Yeah, right.”
“That was four hundred and twelve,” I said. “I don’t leave it to memory, either. I write them all down. I have a notebook in my car.”
“No you don’t,” she said.
Nate laughed.
“He does, Babe. I’ve seen it.”
“Well, I can stop anytime I want to. I’m not going to be part of your stupid games.”
“I’ll be looking for you in two weeks,” I said to Nate. “What did the store dudes say when you gave notice?”
Nate blew out a long breath.
“They weren’t expecting me to leave, that’s for sure. Do you know how many twenty-three-year-old store managers there are in this franchise?”
“No. Probably the same number of drummers that are about to go on tour with one of the biggest pop stars on the planet.”
“Man, I love it when you talk dirty like that,” Nate said. “Ah! Come on, Tooie! You didn’t make it two minutes!”
“I hate you,” she said with a grin. “Both of you.”
“Sure you do,” Nate said as he threw his arms around her. I couldn’t help myself. I threw my arms around both of them.
Tooie laughed for a few seconds and then pushed both of us away.
“Get off of me—both of you. You’re going to give me cooties.”
“Boston cooties,” Nate said. “They’re the worst.”
“I’ll call every night and keep you up-to-speed on what’s happening,” I said. “Unless I’m completely exhausted—which is likely.”
“Hey, are they gonna make me do that physical training stuff, too?”
I shrugged.
“Nobody told me anything. You might wanna do some jogging or something for the next two weeks. I’m telling you, dude. These people are some kind of serious.”
“No problem, Wyles. I hit things with sticks, remember? I’m ready to go all Primal-Physical.”
Nate and I executed the double-back-tap Bro-hug, and Toby and I headed for St. Louis.
I pulled up to the entry gate and stopped.
“KwyK Ranch. How may I help you?” said a familiar voice.
“It’s Wylie, Mr. Taylor.”
Artie Taylor’s face came on the video screen.
“Hey! Good afternoon, Wylie! No Goldfinger car today? You must be by yourself.”
“I’ve got my co-pilot with me.” Toby bounded into the front seat.
“That’s my good boy!” Artie said. “What’s his name again?”
“This is Toby.”
“All right! Come on in, Wylie. Everybody’s expecting you.”
“Thanks, Artie. Quentin says ‘hello’.”
“You tell him ‘thanks’ for me, okay? Your manager is one cool dude.”
“Yeah, he is. I’m gonna keep him.”
“You do that, son,” Artie said. He leaned in toward the camera, which made his face fill the screen.
“This business eats its young. You’re gonna need friends in here.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Skyler was waiting for me when I pulled up to the guest house. I was impressed again by the speed and efficiency of her support network. Skyler didn’t miss a single beat. And neither did her manager. Or her mother. This was not surprising since they were the same person. They both met me at the parking lot in front of the guest house. I was beginning to wonder if I had a chip implanted in me somewhere.
The gymnasium had been transformed since I was here before. Some stagehands and technicians put the finishing touches on a full-blown mock-up of Skyler KwyK’s stage. You want to talk about a major case of wow-factor? I probably looked like an eight-year-old at the gates of Disney World.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of the team of six dancers who were practicing their routines on the left side of the stage. There were three guys and three girls dressed in matching, skin-tight costumes. Their outfits were two different shades of green and dominated by a forest-green reflective material. The costumes made the dancers look like holograms in the overhead spotlights.
I couldn’t fully appreciate their unreal talents at that moment. I was busy wondering if we were going to share the
same physical trainer. If we did, I was going to suffer. The dancers were spinning and kicking and throwing each other through the air without any signs of strain or fatigue. It didn’t look like anyone was sweating.
“Hey, you guys!” Skyler walked to my side. “Hold up a second. I want you to meet Wylie.”
The dancers stopped their routines. At the same time, they each grabbed a towel and wiped their faces. They formed a line—shoulder-to-shoulder. They were all exactly the same height. I fought to keep from laughing—or even smiling. It was like I was inside of Willy Wonka’s factory, or maybe a meeting of the Lollipop Guild.
“Everybody, this is Wylie Westerhouse. Wylie, I would like for you to meet our dance team—Michelle, Glenda, Fiona, Michael, Lance, and Apollo.”
Apollo? I thought.
I almost laughed out loud. I pretended to cough and made a quick recovery.
The girls made no move to shake hands. We exchanged hellos.
I shook hands with Michael and Lance. When Apollo took my hand, it was obvious that he was trying to send me a message. His eyes narrowed as he stared defiantly into my eyes. My hand hurt a little, but I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of showing it.
Oh, well. I already knew that I was not going to be accepted with open arms by everyone at the Skyler KwyK Music Machine. I also had no intention of being intimidated. Kill them with kindness—that’s a saying I’ve heard a million times.
“I’ve been watching you guys practice,” I said. “Amazing.”
Skyler beamed.
“We’re keeping the choreography the same as the last tour on four of the songs, you guys,” she told the dancers. “We’re going to go through them at—,” she looked at her watch. “At ten-thirty. We’ll talk to you later. You’re all looking great!”