by Nathan Roden
Holly sighed.
“My secret was safe for a lot of years—but only because my parents made it their life’s mission. But I don’t know how much longer it can last. More people know about Wylie and me now—and that’s in just the last few months.”
Robert ran a hand through his hair.
“Does this young man recognize the danger that he’s in?”
“I’m not sure what he knows. Or what he thinks. But we’re getting ready to miss our flight.”
“All aboard!” Dougie Day said.
“They’re coming with us?” Robert whispered to Holly.
“Oh, yeah. We want them along. Trust me.”
“I’ll need to try to call the train station again,” Robert said. “I couldn’t get through before.”
“We’re taking the train?” Holly asked. “To where?”
“To Scotland. I have reason to believe that Tara has been trying to find you.”
“If she’s gone to the trouble to travel to McIntyre Village, she’ll be sorely disappointed,” Holly said. “Everyone there knows that the castle was moved. Tara would have no reason to stay there.”
“That’s what I thought, as well,” Robert said. “But she disappeared over a week ago. She was most likely staying at an Inn—an Inn that recently met with catastrophe.”
“An Inn in the Village?” Holly asked.
“Not far from there at all,” Robert said. “The Inn was located in Wellmore Village.”
“Oh, no,” Holly whispered.
Thirty-Two
Wylie Westerhouse
St. Louis, Missouri
I changed my clothes for the second time. I followed a guy from the security detail through a labyrinth of hallways. I think some of them were underground. We walked through a door into the private entrance hallway for the venue’s luxury boxes.
My guide stood next to a door marked “1A”.
“Please be here and ready to return to your dressing room at precisely nine-thirty,” he said.
“Yeah, I’ve been warned already. You wanna come in? Grab something to drink?”
The security guy smirked.
“Yeah, sure. That’s gonna happen. Do you know whose suite this is?”
“Uh, no,” I said.
The security guide knocked twice on the door but he didn’t touch the doorknob.
“The mayor’s. Remember. Nine-thirty. Sharp.”
“Got it.”
Another member of the security detail opened the door from the inside. I walked through and was greeted with polite applause. I saw Chris, Skip, Grayson Kilmister, and Veronica. Those were all the faces that I recognized. I was introduced to the mayor and his wife, and some other people who are important for one reason or another.
The lights went down, and the crowd went nuts. Lasers sliced through the air as video screens all around the arena lit up. On every screen, the camera followed a shapely pair of legs as they walked down a dark corridor. The legs stopped in front of a door. The door opened and the legs moved out onto a lit balcony.
The videos blacked out as a spotlight hit the real two-story-high balcony above the stage.
“Hello, St Louis!” Skyler KwyK yelled as she punched the air. Her band launched into their opening number.
Wow.
The whole arena was electric. I have seen some elaborate stage shows in my time, but nothing that approached this. It was like a concert, a theme park, and a Hollywood blockbuster movie all rolled into one. I turned and looked at Veronica. Her eyes were laughing at me. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say, except
“Wow.”
The first four numbers were upbeat and kept the crowd whipped into a fury. Skyler’s fifth song was a ballad. The crowd was even louder when the piano intro to one of her biggest hits began. The obligatory sea of lit cell-phone screens and cigarette lighter flames popped up around the arena.
The spotlights focused on the baby grand piano and Skyler. The only others in the lights were two of the male dancers. During the instrumental interlude in the middle of the song, Skyler performed with a single male dancer.
Apollo.
I wanted to hate on him, but I couldn’t. The choreography was breathtaking. It was designed to highlight Skyler of course, and it accomplished that.
Apollo lifted her and spun her around. He threw her into the air—effortlessly. Skyler spun and landed gracefully in his arms. Apollo spun Skyler again and dipped her. She sang the final chorus as they danced elegantly around the stage.
They stood face-to-face—their lips almost touching. Then they turned and stood back-to-back. That was where Skyler sang the last line of the sad song.
The crowd went crazy again. I watched and didn’t react at all. I was too busy thinking.
It’s no wonder that Apollo acts the way he does.
He’s in love with Skyler and he’ll do this routine every night. He will touch her and dance with her. He’ll have his arms around her, and every night he will face her—only an inch separating them.
I knew what was going on. Did anyone else? How could they not see it?
I checked the time. Nine-twenty-five.
I stepped outside the door. My escort back to the dressing room was waiting.
A bathroom break and a wardrobe change later, I was escorted to backstage left. I listened to the finale of Skyler’s closing song; the last song before the encores, that is. I stepped behind the curtain and peeked out. Tiny LED lights lit the walkway. I would be walking out to the same two-story balcony where Skyler had started her show.
The first song of Skyler’s show would be one of our duets—the one that Chris released early and topped the charts.
I held the curtain open just enough to see Skyler. She was wearing a stunning, sequined evening gown, and believe it or not—
Ruby slippers. I guess you would call them that. They weren’t really slippers—they had high heels.
The song began, and Skyler sang the first verse from the stage.
The second verse was mine.
I walked toward the balcony and the spotlight found me.
I heard the roar from the crowd. Skyler’s crowd. I had already had a great night, but hearing that reaction for my part in Skyler’s show was a whole different level of awesome.
The balcony where I stood was on a hydraulic lift. As the second verse came to a close, the platform lowered to the stage. There was no elaborate choreography assigned to this song. Everyone involved thought it best to leave it uncomplicated. Also, the lyrics told a story of a young couple who were going through a difficult time.
Don’t worry, though. The song may sound like a downer, but it has a happy ending. It would sort of have to—it is being used in a Disney animated film, after all.
Skyler and I stood on separate sides of the stage, in our own spotlights. We sang about our aching hearts, and how we were incomplete without the other. As the song came to a close, we walked toward each other.
At the next-to-last line, we extended one arm toward the other. As we sang the last line together, we extended our index fingers—and almost…
Almost touched.
I heard the weeping of girls in the front rows in the quiet fade of the instruments. I couldn’t help myself. I stole a quick peek at the audience.
And there they were.
An ocean of mostly young girls; their arms raised, with tears streaming down their faces. I got a serious lump in my throat. For a second, I thought I might lose it, too.
Skyler grabbed my hand. In the midst of all the light, sound and emotion bombarding me, I felt a new surge of electricity. We faced the audience and bowed. I let go of Skyler’s hand and took a step back. I raised my arms to her, admonishing the crowd to “give it up for the one-and-only Miss Skyler KwyK!”
As the crowd roared, I began the universal “I’m not worthy” motion with my arms—the move made famous on “Wayne’s World”. Skyler looked at me and laughed.
For a couple of seconds.
And then, I saw a different look cross her face.
She was the same triumphant star—the Queen of her Domain—the same star that she was a moment ago.
But suddenly, I saw her become something different. I saw the young girl who lived a mostly lonely life. A girl who worked while the others played. A girl who has no peer group. A girl who is growing up out of a childhood like few on this earth ever experience.
Talent beyond measure—adored by thousands.
Yet, in that moment, I saw a vulnerable young girl. A girl who was capable of the same feelings that the rest of us mere mortals have.
I smiled and opened my arms to her.
She ran and threw her arms around me. The roar from the crowd continued, of course, but I no longer heard it. I closed my eyes, and the world was okay.
And then it happened.
Skyler screamed. Loud. And her headset microphone was still very much live.
She pushed away from me.
She screamed again, as she backed away. I watched in horror, as she tripped, and fell. I dove to catch her, but I had no chance. Skyler was completely caught off guard by her fall, and I heard here head hit the floor.
What had happened? The question screamed inside of my head. I looked behind me—
—into the shocked and horrified face of Alexander KwyK.
Skyler’s father.
The ghost.
I only saw him for a second. He stood there, frozen. He held his head in his hands—the pain in his eyes was immeasurable as he watched his little girl knocked unconscious on the stage floor. We made eye contact for a fraction of a second, and then I was swept away in the rush of police and security staff.
A wall of uniformed people lined the front of the stage. There were three guys in security t-shirts around me. I tried to push through them to get to Skyler, but they held me back. Skyler was already surrounded by a crowd.
Veronica, Chris, and Skip flew past me. Skip screamed at the security guards and pushed them out of the way.
The security guard in front of me disappeared. He was thrown to the side like a sack of potatoes because somebody wanted to get at me.
It was Apollo.
He shoved me in the chest and knocked the breath out of me.
“What did you do?” he shrieked. “What did you do to her?”
I stood up and tried to catch my breath.
“I d—” was all I could manage to say.
Two more security guards ran after Apollo. One lunged at him. Apollo jumped to the side and spun around. The guard hit the floor. The other guard reached for Apollo. Apollo grabbed the guy’s arm and pushed him. He fell into the line of policemen guarding the front of the stage.
Apollo eyed me again. I could feel the hatred coming off of him.
I held up one hand.
“Look,” I said. “I didn’t do any—”
Apollo ran at me and I had nowhere to run. There were too many people to my sides. I saw him duck his head at the last moment, and he hit me like a charging bull. I flew through the air, bouncing off of people.
I heard the crash before I felt it.
He threw me into the drum set. I think I might have blacked out for a few seconds. When I became aware again, I thought that I was blind in my right eye. I put my hand there and felt something wet. I saw blood run down my arm and drip from my elbow. I looked at my hand. It was covered in blood.
I looked down and saw a dented cymbal lying beside me.
Nate is going to be mad. That was my first thought.
These weren’t Nate’s drums. I wasn’t thinking all that clearly.
My problems didn’t rate high on anyone else’s scale at that moment. The mad crush of people tried to get close to the action or at least close enough to take pictures. That left no one to care about the enraged Apollo on the loose. He was kicking ass and taking names and he had every intention of pulling my head off of my shoulders.
I tried to wipe the blood out of my eye at the same time I tried to get to my feet. I kept getting tangled up in the mass of drums, cymbals, microphone stands, and microphone cables. I finally made it to my feet, only to look up and see Apollo charging me again. I braced myself. I hoped that I would have a room with a courtyard view—at the hospital.
I saw someone running toward Apollo from behind. It was Bo.
Bo grabbed both of Apollo’ arms just before I saw a fist flash in front of my face.
Apollo crumpled to the floor.
I was knocked sideways. I looked beside me.
Nate grimaced and shook his right hand furiously.
“OW! I forgot how much that hurts.”
We didn’t get time to think about what just happened. I was scooped up and whisked away by a squad of police and security guards. My eye filled with blood again. I realized that I was moving, but I wasn’t walking—I was being dragged.
I heard one loud voice above the others.
“What did he do to her?”
That was the last thing I remembered for a while.
Thirty-Three
Wylie Westerhouse
St. Louis, Missouri
I woke up and felt only a tingling numbness. I tried to put together what had happened to me, and where I might be at the moment, but there was no use.
I must be on the good stuff, I remember thinking. People always joke about getting the ‘good stuff’ at the hospital, but it’s all a lie. If you get the good stuff that just means that when it wears off, you’re going to hurt somewhere—and probably hurt real bad.
I was sure it was the good stuff because I was hallucinating. I knew that I was lying down and there was a television in the upper corner of the room. That says “hospital”.
I looked up, with one eye, into the face of Quentin Lynchburg. That wasn’t so unusual—except that he was dressed up. Really dressed up.
Standing next to Quentin and wringing her hands, was my equally dressed-up Aunt Jessie.
I panicked and tried my best to sit up.
Oh, my God. Was I at my own funeral? Was I dead?
“Nurse!” I heard Quentin call. “We may need a little help here!”
That calmed me down a little. You don’t call nurses for dead people. I saw movement to my left and turned my head. A nurse came through the door. Two policemen stood on either side of it, out in the hall.
This couldn’t be good.
“What happened?” I asked. I think that’s what I said. It may not have sounded like that.
Quentin leaned close to my ear.
“You’re the only person in the world who knows the answer to that. You should heal up some before we talk about anything important.”
“Where is Skyler?” I asked. I had no idea how loud I was speaking, but it must have been loud.
“Sh, sh, sh,” Quentin said. “Skyler will be fine. Look at me, Wylie. Let me know if you understand.”
I nodded. I think.
“Don’t talk to anyone, until I tell you it’s okay,” Q said. “Especially in this room. Do you understand?”
“Hi, Jessie,” I said. “How did you get here? Did you fly—my little angel?”
I thought that was the funniest thing I had ever heard, for some reason.
“I can’t leave him here like this, Jess,” Q said to Jessie. “We don’t know who we can trust. I’ll take you to the airport or a hotel if you like.”
“I’m staying right here,” Jessie said. “I think we both have an idea what happened.”
“Yeah,” Q said. “Keep an eye on him. I’ll set things up with the nurse’s station and get us some chairs.”
“Okay,” Jessie said. “We’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
“Quentin and Jessie sittin’ in a tree—K-I-S-T-L-M-N-O-P!” I sang.
“Watch him,” Q said. “In his condition, he could give up nuclear launch codes.”
“Roger, Captain,” Jessie said. “He was always a bad speller.”
They told me that I slept for twenty straight hours. I must have
been given nineteen hours’ worth of pain medication. My head was pounding. I couldn’t see out of my right eye. My Aunt Jessie looked down at me.
“How are you feeling, Wylie?”
“I’m feeling like they’re late with my medication. When did you—?”
Jessie turned toward the door.
“He just woke up,” she said.
Quentin and a nurse appeared above me.
“Am I….blind?” I asked.
“No, honey,” the nurse said. “The bandage on your head covers your eye. You have a pretty deep cut there.”
“Are Mom and Dad here?” I asked Jessie.
“No. They’re at a trade show in London.”
“You got here really fast.”
“I was already here. I saw the whole thing.”
“What?” I said.
“Jessie flew in for your show,” Quentin said. “We were there.”
“Really? But I had your tickets for tomorrow—and for Holly and her parents.”
Jessie and Quentin shared a look.
“I appreciate you going to so much trouble, Jessie,” I said. “But we’re coming to Boston next month.”
“It was no trouble at all, Wylie. Quentin called and asked me if I would like to come. He had a car pick me up and I had a seat in first class on the flight. He picked me up at the airport.”
“Did you like it—the show, I mean?”
“Like it? It was incredible! I am so proud of you!”
“The ending went a little sour,” I said.
“You might say that.”
“How is Skyler?” I asked. “Have they said anything?”
Q shook his head.
“All Veronica would say was ‘don’t worry’. They’ve closed off the entire wing on her floor and posted a dozen security guards. No visitors, other than family and business staff.”