by Steven Bohls
Copyright © 2019 by Steven Bohls
Cover and interior art © 2019 by Allen Douglas
Designed by Maria Elias and Phil Buchanan
Cover design by Maria Elias
All rights reserved. Published by Disney • Hyperion, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address
Disney • Hyperion, 125 West End Avenue, New York, New York 10023.
ISBN 978-1-4847-3790-3
Visit www.DisneyBooks.com
for Jackie
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1: Jed
Chapter 2: Jed
Chapter 3: Shay
Chapter 4: Jed
Chapter 5: Shay
Chapter 6: Jed
Chpater 7: Shay
Chapter 8: Jed
Chapter 9: Jed
Chapter 10: Jed
Chapter 11: Jed
Chapter 12: Jed
Chapter 13: Jed
Chapter 14: Shay
Chapter 15: Jed
Chapter 16: Jed
Chapter 17: Jed
Chapter 18: Jed
Chapter 19: Jed
Chapter 20: Jed
Chapter 21: Shay
Chapter 22: Jed
Chapter 23: Lyle
Chapter 24: Lyle
Chapter 25: Lyle
Chapter 26: Lyle
Chapter 27: Jed
Chapter 28: Jed
Chapter 29: Jed
Chapter 30: Shay
Chapter 31: Jed
Chapter 32: Jed
Chapter 33: Jed
Chapter 34: Jed
Chapter 35: Jed
Chapter 36: Jed
Chapter 37: Jed
Chapter 38: Jed
Chapter 39: Jed
Chapter 40: Jed
Chapter 41: Jed
Chapter 42: Jed
Chapter 43: Shay
Chapter 44: Jed
Chapter 45: Jed
Chapter 46: Jed
Chapter 47: Jed
Chapter 48: Jed
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Prologue
The Jenkins Home
At well past four in the morning after her son’s twelfth birthday, Mary Jenkins sat with Jed and her husband on the end of their bed. Jed’s eyes drooped, and his head tipped forward. “He’s nodding off,” she whispered to Ryan.
Jed’s head snapped upright. “Nope. I’m completely awake,” he said. But a yawn betrayed him.
Mary smiled and kissed his forehead. “Go to bed.” He wiped the smudge of red lipstick with the back of his arm. She knew he hated it, but that’s just how boys his age were. And moms were supposed to kiss them anyway. “Did you have a good birthday?”
Jed smiled back. “The best.”
“How does it feel to be twelve?” Ryan asked. “Any different?”
Jed shrugged. “Not as much as I thought.”
“That’s the way with things,” Ryan said. “They don’t often happen how we picture them.” He hopped off the bed and extended a hand to Mary. “Madame, might I have the pleasure of your company in the kitchen for a bit of late-night dish washing?”
“Certainly, my prince.” Mary took Ryan’s hand and leaped into his arms.
He stumbled with the unexpected pounce. “To the kitchen!” he said, his hand high as if holding a sword.
“I can help,” Jed said, eyes bleary.
“If you’d like,” Ryan said. “But there’s to be a fair bit of kissing, romantic dancing, and more kissing.”
“Good night,” Jed said.
“See you in the morning, honey,” Mary called.
They began tidying up, but before they’d cleared even an armful of dishes, Ryan doused his fingers under the running tap and splashed Mary with water.
She giggled, trying to dodge a second splash.
“You won’t escape,” Ryan said, dipping his hand under the tap water again.
“Shh,” Mary whispered. “You’ll wake him.”
Ryan’s head shifted to look at Jed’s bedroom, and Mary dunked her whole hand into a cup of water and swatted it at him. Water sprayed over his face. He gave an exaggerated look of shock. “Trickery!”
She flicked more water at him. “Always.”
Mischief filled Ryan’s face.
Mary shrieked and fled the kitchen.
He chased.
But Mary was fast—she had always been faster than Ryan. She ran to the study and Ryan followed.
Safely inside, she tried to shut the door, but Ryan blocked the gap with a gangly, outstretched arm.
“Trapped,” he said, grinning.
He slowly pushed the door open. Mary giggled again, backing away.
Ryan inched forward like a lion closing in on its cornered prey.
And then a soft sound shattered everything.
The cat-and-mouse chase.
The sneaky smiles.
The laughter in their eyes.
The joy in the air.
Chik, ch-chik, ch-chik, ch-chik, ch-chik.
Mary’s heart wrenched.
No. Not now. Not after all this time.
They turned to the old typewriter in the corner bureau and listened to the ch-chik, ch-chik of its yellowed keys as they pressed down on their own. One at a time. Printing letters on a page that hadn’t felt new ink in many years.
Ryan held Mary close as they stepped toward the typewriter. The keys punched faster, black letters stamping the paper.
Ching!
The machine rang out and the barrel swung on its own to begin another line. They hovered over the typewriter, reading the letter as it typed.
Javelin Agents 394 and 395,
GOLDEN KING has emerged from the fog with another autonomous relic (designation: GILDED RELIC BETA).
AGENT 1121 boarded the RED GALLEON and has retrieved the relic. GOLDEN KING is in pursuit. Copper gearsmiths have discovered GILDED RELIC BETA was engineered for the purpose of finding and recovering GILDED RELIC ALPHA—still presently in your possession.
Operation LOOSE PIGEON has been reopened.
Return immediately through the FRINGE and meet us twelve sunfalls east of BASE 11-14-1 where you will assume guardianship over GOLDEN RELIC BETA until gearsmiths can further analyze her purpose.
All speed,
Captain J. Butterfly
Authentication code: WHISPERS OVER THE WALL
Mary read the words. She read them again. And again.
“We can’t go,” she said.
Ryan folded the letter and put it into his pocket. “We have to. Now.”
“But—” Mary looked over her shoulder toward Jed’s room. “He’s—”
Ryan gripped Mary’s shoulders. “If Lyle finds him, he’ll no longer be our Jed. I won’t let that happen. We have the two quickest wasps in the fleet. We’ll meet with Butterfly, pick up the girl, and be back before Jed wakes up. This will be over before you know it. Okay?”
Mary nodded. “Okay.”
“I’ll pack the typewriter and gather supplies. Leave the key on the table, just in case, and get the shatterdrill.”
Mary hurried to the kitchen and opened a hidden panel in the pantry behind the green beans. There, untouched for so long, was the key. Jed’s key.
She pressed her lips to its aged metal. “Be safe, my Jed.”
“Ready?” Ryan asked.
She nodd
ed.
They set the key on the table, opened the dishwasher, and entered the tunnel to the fringe.
Time had treated the tunnel well. The shatterdrill-melted path was still a cavern of solid metal. Their wasps were at the tunnel exit where they’d left them. The ships were so much smaller than Mary remembered. It was all these years of driving in cars at least four times the size of the small yellow airships. She climbed inside and dusted off the control panel.
“Light the way,” Ryan called, sliding into his own wasp.
Mary lifted the shatterdrill. It had been so long since she’d used the relic. She aimed it at the end of the tunnel, which had grown cluttered from years of junkstorms. Light blasted from the shatterdrill’s tip and carved a fresh path in the junk.
Ryan’s wasp hummed as its engines flared. He gave her a wink and then yanked the accelerator. His ship shot forward so fast that she didn’t have time to wink back.
“Okay, girl,” she whispered to her own wasp, “you and I are good friends, remember? Help me keep Jed safe, all right?” She gripped the accelerator. “Let’s go.”
She pulled, and her body pinned itself to the back of her seat. The speed was astonishing—impossible even. Her wasp shot from the tunnel. She looked around at the sun-glittered metal below. “Welcome home.”
They found Butterfly’s steamboat in less than two hours—nearly an hour after the dread had arrived. Black masses polluted the sky with their twisted shapes and smoke that hung like oil in the air. Rockets whistled past them. Orange bursts of light rained fire and acid.
In a breath, Mary’s mind transformed. She was no longer a homeowner association’s vice president. She was a javelin. Her hands whipped over the controls. The tiny wasp launched stingers at dread warships. The stingers pulsed and detonated, breaking ships in two and sending giant chunks of debris raining down on the junk fields below.
The battle raged while she and Ryan cut through the fray to reach a landing dock in the steamboat.
Captain Butterfly met them at the bay doors.
Mary opened the wasp’s hatch. “Butterfly!”
“Mary, Ryan.”
“Where is she?” Ryan asked. “Where’s the girl?”
“It’s gone,” Butterfly said. “Escaped. We have to find it. Now.”
The steamboat shook with a heavy impact and then began to descend in slow motion.
“We’re going down, Captain,” someone yelled.
The ship tilted; the wasps slid across the docking bay. Ryan and Mary ran after the small ships, but a barrage of fire shook the steamboat and knocked them off-balance.
“In here.” Ryan grabbed Mary’s arm.
He pulled her into a storage closet.
The steamboat hit the junkyard floor.
Mary tried to think—to listen—to speak. But everything felt fuzzy.
Something struck her hard in the back of the head, and her vision went black.
• • •
When Mary awoke, the sounds of battle were gone. No gunfire. No shouting. The ship was still. Silent. The only noise that filled the space was faint clicks, like beetles being crushed under a shoe. Everything was dark. She was still inside the storage closet, but Ryan was gone. And there was something in her hand.
It was a piece of paper, folded and tucked into her palm. She felt around for the closet door handle and quietly twisted it open. Light leaked into the small space. It was just enough for her to make out Ryan’s handwriting.
Mary,
The Red Galleon is here with Lyle. He got Butterfly. I’m so sorry. Lyle took Butterfly’s appearance to set a trap for Jed. I’m going to the Red Galleon.
Copper Headquarters is watching the tunnel exit for Jed.
Go to Lawnmower Mountain. Get there before Lyle. He’s making his move. Hurry.
Ryan
“Go to Lawnmower Mountain…?” she whispered. They weren’t supposed to contact them unless it was absolutely necessary. If Lyle were here, she could be followed—she could lead him straight there.
But she trusted Ryan, and if he said she needed to fly to Lawnmower Mountain, then that’s what she’d do.
She stayed hidden until the sounds of crushing beetles stopped. When it was quiet, she left the closet and walked to the main deck. A small footstep crunched on debris behind her. She turned cautiously toward the sound.
A girl about Jed’s age—her head cocked—watched Mary with curiosity. She was small…thin…with hair like a spool of copper.
“Hello,” Mary said. “What’s your name?”
“Shay. What’s yours, little mouse?”
“It’s Mary.”
Shay shook her head. “No, it’s not. It’s wicked little Scritcherling!”
“No—no, I’m not one of them. I promise.”
“Not yet.” Shay cocked her head the other way. “I’ll fix that. Come here, little mouse.”
Mary ran, and Shay bounded after her.
“You’re a scampery little mouse, aren’t you?” Shay called.
Shay ran faster, gaining on Mary. When Shay was only a few steps away, Mary stopped dead, spun around, and kicked her heel into the air. It collided with Shay’s face, and she flipped onto her back.
When she rose, she cocked her head again. The wickedness in her eyes was gone.
“Where am I?” She looked around and shrank against a wall. “This place feels like ‘alone.’”
Mary backed away slowly.
Shay shook her head. “No,” she said. “Mouse king told me to make scritches. Lots and lots of scritches. I’m supposed to make scritches.” She looked up at Mary. “Am I supposed to make scritches?”
Mary shook her head. “Mouse king told me you were done. You can go home now.”
Shay thought for a moment, and then her eyes narrowed. “Home? I don’t have a home! You’re a lying mouse! I know when little mice lie.”
Mary bolted for the wasp. Ten steps…five…two…She leaped into the air and slid feetfirst into the cockpit.
Engines roared as she yanked the accelerator. Flames from the boosters shot backward into Shay, setting bits of her shirt on fire.
The wasp wobbled as it lifted from the cargo bay and into the open air. A tugboat—a dread tugboat—approached the steamboat, moving directly toward her.
“Let’s go,” Mary said. “Get me out of here.”
The tugboat readied its shatterkegs.
“Go, go, go!” she said.
The engines crackled. The wasp shot away. The tugboat disappeared behind her.
“Good girl,” she said, patting her wasp’s dashboard. “Let’s get to Lawnmower Mountain.”
She reached for the throttle and then hesitated. Dark clouds billowed up ahead. No…not clouds. Dreadnoughts.
Mary turned to the right, but three battlenoughts hovered in place. To the left was a pack of ghostnoughts. She was surrounded.
“Come on, baby,” she whispered. “Let’s figure a way out of this.”
Orange specs flowered from the ships around her. The sound of the shatterfire followed. Mary yanked the controls and the wasp shot to the side. Left, then right, then left again, she dodged a barrage of shells. She was a dancer twirling through the sky. No one flew like a copper javelin—and no copper javelin flew like Mary or Ryan.
Squads of ships launched a storm of shatterfire; Mary nimbly evaded them all.
Until something hard struck her left engine.
A whistling screeched from the wasp, followed by a loud popping. Mary could barely fly through the shatterfire with both engines; there was no hope with just one. A shell smashed into one of her wings. The wasp caught fire and the engines wailed.
“Land,” she told herself. “You need to land.”
Decisively, Mary began to descend. Just then, a shell pierced the windshield, and her wasp exploded.
Jed
Jed lifted a dented shaft of metal to his chest and slid it into the golden keyhole.
A click echoed in his ears.
&n
bsp; The golden panel just above the keyhole popped open.
Under the panel was a large red button.
He reached for the button and pressed it.
Something inside him awakened. It was small and bright…a piece of him that had slept for many years. And now, after all this time, it began to glow. He couldn’t immediately see a difference in his skin or the exposed gears in his chest, but he could sense it. As the glowing feeling intensified, a dull light shone through the keyhole. Shay and Jed’s father stared intently at the light.
“What’s happening to me?” Jed asked.
“Guardian Mouse,” Shay whispered.
Jed’s dad looked at her and then to Jed. He opened his mouth as if to explain, but before he could, the heat in Jed’s chest flared. His frame hummed. An electric charge coursed through his bones. The energy burned hotter. A stinging, blistering fire blazed through his blood.
And then every bit of heat from every corner of his body contracted into an inferno in his chest. Jed fell to his knees, clutching his heart.
His vision rattled. A buzz cut into his ears. The pain, the heat, and the sound collided, firing a pulse of energy that shook the barge with a deafening crack. A ring of light blasted from his chest. The light swelled across the horizon and then disappeared behind the fog that walled them in.
Jed’s world went silent.
An icy chill bit at his chest that no longer held the raging sun.
Darkness crept into the edges of his vision. Then everything vanished. The barge. His father. Shay. All of them—gone.
• • •
A sea of blackness swirled into focus as the color drained from the world.
The air smelled like oil and tasted like metal. Smokey tendrils hovered like fog—scratchy, dusty particles that felt like slivers of glass.
Where am I…?
Everything ached. His joints…hands…neck…even his eyes. The pain came in waves, pulsing from head to knee in steady, angry surges. He felt as if he’d been asleep for a solid month.
Slowly, the blackness sharpened into clarity, and the throbbing pain quieted.
Where…where am I…?
He lifted his arm and held it in front of his face. The hand before his eyes was unfamiliar. He tried to move the curious fingers. They wiggled. But this wasn’t how he remembered his fingers. They had been different. Shinier. Like gold. But these…these fingers looked more like hot dogs.