Van Bender and the Burning Emblems (The Van Bender Archives #1) (19 page)

“That’s a little crooked,” she said, nodding at my emblem, “but it’s good enough that it won’t burn your eyes out.”

“Is that a possibility?”

“A distinct one.”

Thankful I hadn’t burned my eyes out when contacting Marti before, I drew the squiggly line and lit it while thinking of Nick.

His face shimmered into the space between the oval. Apparently I have a knack for contacting people while they’re in bed, because his head rested on what looked like a purple unicorn Pillow Pet. He had his eyes closed, and a slight smile touched his lips. I could only see a little of his body, but it looked like he wore baby blue, pin-striped, silk pajamas.

Marti gave me a questioning look, but I made sure not to respond at all. Nick couldn’t suspect that she was with me.

“Nick,” I said. “Nick, it’s Richie Van Bender.”

“Get away,” he said, not opening his eyes and snuggling up closer to his Pillow Pet.

“Nick, I want instructions on how to get the multiplier.”

His eyes fluttered open, and he turned to face me through the portal. Confusion passed over his face for several seconds.

“Richie?”

In that instant, I had a flash of—of something. I don’t know if it was lucidity or logic or reality, but I had a flash of it.

Here was a known criminal, wanted by a super-secret agency of the government. And I was going to help him. Or pretend to help him, and try to capture him.

Was I insane?

What harm might come to me in this effort? Was I really willing to risk it? For what? Something my parents had forbidden me—apparently for my own good.

No. I couldn’t just let them control me. I had to get out and live life, despite the guilt the disobedience caused me, and the danger involved. I’d come close to death once. I couldn’t let it keep me from living.

Besides, if I didn’t do this, I could end up with my mind wiped.

I nodded at Nick.

“I’m ready to go get the multiplier.”

His eyes widened. He sat up, and the image of his face in my burning frame moved to follow him. He shoved his Pillow Pet away, looking embarrassed. As he should be.

“You are?” he said. “Really? Tonight? I didn’t expect you so soon.” His country drawl sounded thicker than before, maybe from obvious excitement at my calling him. “This is fantastic! The Solar Flare suspects us. Well, me. He suspects me, and we do need to hurry before he finds us out. We need the multiplier.”

“How do I get it?”

He blinked for several moments, and his face scrunched in thought. “The metal square that was in the bag is a portable zip-door. It’ll create a zip-door to Intersoc. You know what Intersoc is?”

I didn’t know if I should lie, or not. The truth seemed like the best option. “Marti took me to it tonight. Before we went to your mansion.”

“Good! Then they’ll know you when you get there, and you’ll be able to move about freely.”

Marti, hearing that, rolled her eyes and shook her head. She mouthed something, but I didn’t look at her—only saw the motion out of the corner of my eyes. She needed to sit still and not move, not draw my attention.

“How do I use the portable zip-door?”

“Put it on the ground and draw an arc of brink over it. The arc has to touch the ground on both sides of the metal. It should be about as wide as it is tall. Then light the arc at the top. A zip-door to the Archive at Intersoc will appear.”

“Once I’m in Intersoc, how do I get the multiplier?”

Apparently, even though the location of the Archive and how to access it was secret, it wasn’t that much of a secret—because he proceeded to give me directions on how to open the Archive door, log into the computer, and find the multiplier. I listened carefully, and asked a few questions, even though I knew Marti didn’t need the instructions. Once I got the multiplier, I should contact him again, and he would give me further instructions on getting it to him.

As he talked, Marti started to make faces. She lifted a hand to her nose and inhaled in jerks, like she was about to sneeze. I knew that if she did, our game would be up. Nick would know someone was with me.

“Okay,” I said to him hurriedly. “I’ll do that. Talk with you later.” I raised my hand to swipe the flames away.

“Richie, wait!” he said.

I paused with my hand raised. Marti had both hands to her face. I let my eyes wander to her. She looked to be in pain as she continued to stifle the sneeze.

“This is the right thing to do, son. I swear it is. You’ll be glad you did it. When you understand how bad the Solar Flare is, you’ll thank me for everything. You’ll see, soon enough.”

I nodded. “It feels right. Like it’s what I should be doing.” The strange thing was that helping him really did feel right.

He smiled and nodded. “Talk to you soon.”

He swiped his hand to close the call. His image disappeared from the frame, and the flames died.

Marti sneezed.

Five minutes later, I said good-bye to my friends.

Chapter 34: I miss out on a trip to Disneyland

I hated leaving him alone with her. But you know, you just have to let them make their own mistakes, sometimes.

-Sandra Montoya

Marti contacted Beulah at Intersoc, who said the way was clear. She didn’t say anything about how earlier that night we hadn’t actually gone to see the Council, and I sure wasn’t going to bring it up.

After the call, all four of us stood in the rodeo ring. Marti created the zip-door to Intersoc.

“I don’t understand,” I said, “why we aren’t just using the metal cube Nick gave me.”

Marti rolled her eyes. “Because, dummy, it’s too valuable. Very rare. We went over this, earlier.”

“Hey,” Sandra said. “What about Kurt and I? Are we just supposed to wait here while you guys are off doing your thing?”

Marti shrugged. “I guess I could draw a zip-door back to L.A. I have several receiving doors there.”

“Where at?” Kurt asked. Every time he talked with her, his face turned sour, as if he couldn’t handle the acidity of directing attention her way.

“All over,” Marti said. “The one in Disneyland is my favorite.”

We all looked at her in surprise.

“I love that place,” she said.

“
Inside
Disneyland?” Sandra said.

“No, no, not inside. Out in the courtyard between the two parks. Off behind a tree. I go there all the time. This time of night, there won’t be anyone there to see you zip in.”

“It’s still pretty far from our homes,” Kurt said. “You can’t do any better?”

Marti shrugged, looking a little guilty. “You could catch a taxi from here to L.A. if you want.”

Kurt looked at Sandra, and she frowned at him.

“We need to get back to the West coast,” she said.

Kurt frowned and looked at Marti, mouth crooked, eyebrows together. “I guess you get used to the pain of zipping?”

“Can’t handle it?” Marti said.

“No, probably not.”

“Do you want me to draw the door, or not?”

“Yes,” Sandra said. “Draw it.”

Marti took blue brink from her black purse and drew the door. In just a minute, it stood next to the one to Intersoc, shimmering white and humming.

Kurt looked at me through the hair covering his eyes.

“Dude,” he said. “Big night, tonight. Awesome concert. You were awesome.”

We pounded fists.

“Thanks to you,” I said. “For posting that video.”

He nodded and jabbed a finger in Marti’s direction. “Be safe. Be careful with this one.”

“What do you have against her?” I said.

With a distasteful look at her, he shook his head. “She’s a wannabe. She wants to be like you.”

I didn’t get what he meant, but he stepped away as Sandra came over. She gave me a quick hug and turned away without a word.

“Hold hands,” Marti told them.

They did, and the two of them stepped toward the doorway. Sandra smiled back at me. I started to tell them good luck, but they stepped into the doorway. The white sheet didn’t even ripple as they stepped through, but once they’d passed beyond it, the humming ended, and with a popping sound, the door faded into nothingness.

As I stood there, looking at where they’d been and at the ashes, Marti stepped to my side.

“They really couldn’t have come with us.”

“I know.”

“Is all of that stuff true? About your mom?”

I grunted. “Sure is. I wouldn’t choose to live like that.”

“Well, then it makes what we’re doing all the more important, doesn’t it? Because if you fail, you’ll only prove to them that they were right. But if we succeed—well, that will show them.”

“Why is it that ‘I’ would fail and ‘we’ would succeed?”

“Because I’m sure not going to screw up. Any failure will be yours.”

“I always appreciate the way you put things so delicately.”

“Glad to hear it.”

She took my hand and started forward, but I didn’t move. Something had been bothering me. I spoke and gestured at the door as she looked back at me.

“Do your parents know about this?”

She let go of my hand and turned to me. “Are you kidding? They don’t even like me being a big star. And they’re gone so much that I have a lot of freedom to do whatever I want.”

She didn’t sound thrilled about that. I couldn’t imagine having parents that let me do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.

“I wish it was different.” She turned away, back to the shimmering zip-door. “I wish they not only knew about the magic, but also that they approved of my music. They hate it.”

“They’ve told you that?”

“Not exactly. But things just aren’t like they used to be, back when I only did rodeo.”

She shook her head. She still had her back toward me. Her shoulders hunched. But after a moment, her posture straightened.

“It’s not completely bad that your parents kept you locked away, you know. It could be worse.”

I had a hard time imagining that.

She turned to look at me. The moist eyes and quivering lower lip set me aback.

“I just want them to appreciate who I am and what I do. That’s all I want from anyone.”

I had no idea what to say, so said the first thing that came to mind. “I appreciate you.” Even if it was lame, it was true.

She laughed and shook her head, as if not believing me. “Thanks.”

She paused for a moment and looked around at the arena. “I love the rodeo, you know? I miss it a lot.”

Yet again, I had no idea what to say, so just stood there, watching as she held her hands wide and turned in a circle, as if enjoying the applause of a crowd all around her.

“At a rodeo everyone loves you,” she said. “Even if you screw up, people still applaud you. They’re still polite and they still act like you did a good job.”

She continued to turn, hands open and up, eyes closed, head tilted up.

“It’s so nice to know that even though you maybe didn’t win, the crowd still accepts your skills and appreciates the entertainment you provided.” She stopped spinning and opened her eyes. “The music industry just isn’t like that. It’s tougher. Sometimes it really bothers me.”

I stood there and stared at her for a few moments. Maybe Mom had protected me from all of this, too, because I hadn’t experienced anything like that.

She held her hand out, and I took it. She smiled.

“Do you realize why I’m always holding your hand?”

I nodded at the zip-door. “Because the door closes after someone goes through—unless that person is touching someone else.”

She shrugged. “That’s true. In fact, an endless string of people can go through a door as long as they stay in contact with each other. Once that contact is broken, or the ‘last person’ goes through, the door closes. But that’s not why I’m holding your hand.”

My heart pounded hard for a few beats, and I remembered the pictures of me up in her room. “Then no, I don’t know why you hold my hand.”

“You like to pretend like you’re so naïve. But you’re not.”

I gave her a weak smile. She gave me a wicked grin, turned, and entered the portal.

As we arrived at Intersoc, things went wrong immediately.

Chapter 35: I get bamboozled

Richie doesn’t even realize he struts. He’s just as insufferable as his father. It makes me want to scoop my brains out with a spoon.

-Billy Blake

The first time I’d gone to Intersoc, Beulah had trusted Marti to go see the Council. This time, she did not.

“Hello, again,” Beulah said as we stepped into her room.

The monitors still hovered near the walls, with the blue lines stretching between them. The fires in the bowls still burned, and Beulah still sat on her stool, arms folded, expression flat.

A man and a woman stood by the doorway, also with arms folded. They wore the same skin-tight outfit that Beulah wore. Red lines of light stretched up and down their torso, arms, and legs, and covered their faces like high-tech war paint. I still had no idea what the lines did, but I figured it wouldn’t make things easier for Marti and me.

“Hello, Beulah,” Marti said. “Hello, Pecks. Hello, Guns.”

The woman—who stood at least eighteen inches taller than me—raised an eyebrow. One of her biceps—probably the size of my skull—twitched.

Marti gave a hesitant laugh. She adjusted her purse on her shoulder. In our plan, we’d anticipated a cold reception, but not two extra guards.

“Pecks and Guns will take you to the Patio,” Beulah said. She smiled with false sweetness, as if the Patio were where children and small animals went to die. “It seems you got lost last time, and we wouldn’t want that to happen again. Now would we?”

“Uh, of course not,” Marti said.

Pecks led us out of the room. Guns followed. We walked between them, down the old-smelling hallway with the red carpet. The terra cotta walls seemed much closer together than they had the last time I’d walked and driven through them. We didn’t see any of the hovering limos.

Marti leaned in close to me and whispered.

“Say as little as possible.”