The ender, p.20
The Ender, page 20
The Wanderer brought her hands together in a mocking applause. “Brilliant speech, Gate Keeper. I’ll enjoy having you around to amuse me once in a while here in my castle. That’s if you choose to stick it out.”
“Go to hell.” He brushed off his jeans and crossed the room to stand next to Laney at the desk. She reached down and took his hand, feeling it tremble in hers.
“Maybe someday, but for now, we’re going to continue the rules of our game.” The Wanderer tapped her bloodred nail on the stack of books beside the parchment. “Your job today is to become an open door. It won’t be too difficult now that I have the codex.”
The shaking in his hand increased with the Wanderer’s proximity and threats, so Laney squeezed it, trying to calm him down. She looked at the Wanderer. “What do you mean an open door?”
The Wanderer stood on the opposite side of the secretary desk from them, running a finger down the quill. Her eyes shot up to Laney’s. “I mean he’s going to channel his inner Gate Keeper, directing all Enders to the maze.” Her fingers paused on the feather as she gauged their reactions.
Calm. Remain calm. Laney repeated the words over and over in her mind to keep her turmoil from spilling all over the desk. If she wanted to save William and her family, she’d have to play into the woman’s game. “And how will you get him to do this?”
“Nicholas won’t have a choice. He either cooperates, or I kill you instantly. And for some strange reason, the men in your life can’t help themselves when it comes to rescuing you—Jason, then William, and now Nicholas. I will use my translator powers to direct the Enders to your Watcher and your family. They will now be the enemies, the hunted. They won’t stand a chance without your pen.” Her lips pursed into a proud smile as if she had won the Pulitzer Prize. “So, choose. Who will you watch over with your writing? Because one story is all you get to write.”
William struck a match to light a candle from his backpack. It blazed the trail in front of him as he wove through the endless stacks of books. Through his soldier training in Lexington, he’d grown to love maps, to outwit the enemy through the element of surprise using some hidden trail or hunter’s path sketched as an overlay to the commonly used map. The strategy motivated him more than the warfare, and if he’d stayed in Lexington, he’d have quickly moved up the ranks with his knowledge and skills.
Now the plan for this battle formed as he passed the manuscripts of countless Weavers, standing at attention on the metal bookshelves. Every one of these books contained a Watcher—someone or something that cared more for the Weaver of the words than they did for their life within the walls of the book. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and grasped a silver pendant in his hand. The clockcase necklace was his mother’s before he gave it to Laney last year to ask her to the dance at Manor Hill. It was the point when he knew it was all worth it, that she loved him even though to most he was imaginary. Placing his candle on the shelf, he clasped the pendant around his neck and laid it directly on top of Laney’s Weaver stone.
These seconds were crucial because as soon as the Wanderer made Laney pick up her pen, his movements would appear on the page. He didn’t know the witch’s plan, but his goal was to find Laney’s family and get them out of the maze as soon as possible.
The Wanderer caught Laney eyeing the stack of books. Her wicked gleam showed Laney she was more than willing to let her in on the evil plan. “I’d love to bring back some of the old classics—Dracula, the White Witch, Sauron, Voldemort—unfortunately, their stories are finished, and their authors weren’t cursed Weavers. They’re gone. But these lovelies”—she ran her hand along the top of the notebook stack—“these Weavers have come up with some great alternatives.”
This was what she wanted Nick to do. She’d unleash the revengeful Enders and send them after William and her family. But by placing them in the cavernous maze of the lower library, it was more of a sport to her than coldblooded murder.
Laney’s eyes blazed, reflecting the hatred she felt in her heart for the Wanderer. “Let my family go and kill me.”
Using the sharp end of her blade, the Wanderer picked at her fingernail as if she were bored of the conversation or perhaps contemplating Laney’s words. “It’s no use releasing your loved ones now. You’ve cast a spell on them with your wholesome sweet ways, and even if I do kill you, they won’t stop in their pursuit to end my life. They’re entangled too deep in your web. And I’m beginning to wonder if my son’s gone too far over the edge.”
Jonas. The woman still held affection for him, even if she didn’t trust him. “You’d let Nick unleash monsters into the maze while Jonas is still in there?” She didn’t put anything past the Wanderer.
“This is war. There’s bound to be unfortunate casualties.” She pointed her gun at Laney, placing her finger on the trigger. “Come here, Nicholas.”
Shuffling through the stack of manuscripts, the Wanderer removed a black and white composition book, or at least what was left of it. The cover was ripped to shreds, and the corners appeared to be burned by a lighter. She flipped open to the first page. Angry-looking chicken scratch covered the page. “I do love angst-filled teenage writing. So angry. So raw. Maybe we should start here.”
“What does he write about?” It was fair to ask what they were up against, although Laney wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“See for yourself.” The Wanderer pushed the composition book across the desk with her red fingernails digging like daggers into the cardboard cover.
Nick moved in closer, and they both leaned over the manuscript. Along with the scribbled handwriting were sketches that Laney had to admit were pretty good. There didn’t seem to be any reasoning or pattern to the drawings, as if they clawed their way through the page attempting to get to their Weaver through a nontraditional route. A shiver ran down her spine, realizing what the Wanderer had planned. She closed the book to scan the shredded front cover. At least the author’s name was still visible. “Keegan’s Enders are demons?”
“Demons ready to sink their razor-sharp teeth into anything human. Do you think your Watcher has ever faced anything like that in Colonial America?” She sneered, grabbing the book back and half dragging Nick to the center of the room.
No. But he’d faced a lion man, a giant squid, killer birds, wolves, and homicidal maniacs. She had faith William would make it through this, too. It was her parents and grandfather she worried about. She lifted her hand to William’s pendant. He didn’t need it until they exited the book, but right now her parents and Grady needed her pen to save them from Keegan’s demons.
Chapter 23
“What is this place?” After about twenty minutes of dead ends, Tim finally broke the silence.
Jonas let his father take the lead since he had the light, but the younger man was stewing in his own thoughts. If they found their way out of this maddening place, he’d kill his mother. He’d had enough of her mind games, and if anyone had a reason to put an end to her, it was him. It would be his ultimate redemption from the guilt that ate away at him day after day.
“The Librarian’s castle.” There’d be more questions, but he honestly wasn’t in a talking mood. The Wanderer had more planned than just keeping them trapped in a maze.
Tim shone the light around the next corner—another long corridor of books. “And I’m supposed to know who this Librarian is?” He didn’t turn to look at Jonas, but he kept moving forward as if some kind of end was in sight. “What about Delaney? I assume she’s tied into all this?”
“The Librarian keeps all of the Weaver’s books. He’s in charge of the Gate Keepers and makes sure everything runs smoothly.” Jonas scratched his head, wondering what role the Wanderer wanted Laney to play. “Based on her obsessions, I assume the Wanderer is going to make Delaney choose between you and William.”
His father grunted as if there ever really was a choice. He appeared more agitated as he quickened his pace, more frantic to find an exit out of the infuriating collection. As they rounded the next corner, two lumps huddled in a corner, one set of eyes wide in the blinding light of Tim’s phone.
“It’s them.” Tim rushed ahead and placed a hand on Shelly’s cheek. He kissed her forehead and ran a hand through her hair.
Stains stemming from Shelly’s eyes created black streams running down her face. Still wide-eyed, she begged Tim to remove the rag from her mouth. It took a few moments for him to untie the knot at the back of her head.
“I can’t wake him up.” Her chest heaved at the words.
Jonas kept his distance to allow Tim and Shelly their time, but with her words, he rushed over to Grady lying in a heap behind his daughter. He placed two fingers on his grandfather’s neck. The artery’s slow and steady pulse beat beneath his fingertips. When they jumped, it must have been too much for his body to handle. He’d known the effects of book jumping firsthand when they arrived here a day ago. Not knowing where she was, Shelly must have wanted to shield her father from whatever predators were out there.
He removed his knife and cut through the binding on his mother’s hands and feet, then did the same for Grady. His heart ached as he caught the sob rising in his own chest.
“Christopher.” She placed a hand on his arm as if sensing his emotions. Tears filled her eyes again. “I’m so proud of you.”
Swallowing down a throat full of bile, he pushed her praise to the side. He wasn’t anything to be proud of, so he stood up and helped his mother to her feet without a word of response.
“Is Laney here?” Shelly straightened her sweater. “And how are we going to help Dad?”
“We’ve got to get out of this maze and find Laney. She’s in danger, and if the Wanderer has incapacitated William, we’re her only hope.” He bent down and lifted Grady’s dead weight to his shoulder.
“What direction do we go?” Tim was no-nonsense when it came to Delaney’s safety.
“I’ve been wandering this maze for a while.” He shrugged, adjusting his grandfather to make him as comfortable as possible. “I guess we keep trying and maybe mark places we’ve been.”
A bright light lit up the ceiling from another section of the maze. The Gate Keeper?
Tim stared at the light. “I suggest we go that way.”
The Wanderer held the composition book in her hand, opened to the middle of the pages. Her grip held firm to Nick’s arm, and he winced as her fingernails dug in through the material.
“I don’t even understand how you’re going to do this.” He squirmed around, trying to get free from her grip. “Don’t you need a Gate Keeper on the other side? How do you know the Enders will be ready to pass through the gate at this exact moment?”
She readjusted her grip, probably digging in for the long haul as Nick winced again. “They won’t be ready. We’re going to reach right into the book and snatch them out. We don’t need another Gate Keeper because we have the codex. I can pretty much do whatever I damn well please.”
Laney stood at the desk, a spectator to the scene in front of her. Once the Enders came out of this Keegan’s book, it would be her turn, and she dreaded every mark she’d be forced to make on the page. Once again, she’d be expected to play God and make the decision about whose life was more valuable.
Releasing Nick’s arm, the Wanderer slid her hand down to his hand and slammed his palm into the middle of the opened composition book. A bright light stemmed from the ring on his finger and radiated throughout his body, filling her friend with brilliance. In no time at all, three bodies lay on the floor around them. They appeared human, but the drawings in the book were monsters.
Nick’s radiance dulled rapidly as he shuddered and lowered his head. He removed his hand from the book and dropped it to his side. Laney wanted to comfort him, but the Wanderer’s gun kept her confined to the desk.
The first Ender roused, raising her head from the floor and opening her mouth to snarl. Her razor-sharp teeth and animalistic movements shouted demon. “Why did you rip us from our story, woman?”
“To give you your revenge.” She shoved Nick away from her, keeping her gun ready. “I have your Weaver.”
Still on all fours, the Ender whipped her head of blonde hair around and snarled again. “The man they call Keegan?” In one liquid motion, she rose to her feet and then kicked the two male demons. “Wake up.” The words came out in multiple voices echoing each other.
“Your Weaver is in the maze. He’ll be the one with the pendant of his filthy kind.” The Wanderer pointed to the opening between the two shelves and then turned to Laney. “This mortal holds his scent. Come get what you need.”
The creatures in human skin surrounded Laney as her blood drained from her body. It felt like a violation as they inhaled the air around her, touching her clothing. The disgusting nature of the ritual crawled through her like thousands of millipedes, creeping along every square inch of her skin. When they finally backed away, she exhaled and felt the sudden need to take a shower.
“We have his scent.” The leader grunted and disappeared into the darkness; the others swiftly followed him.
A pile of bricks dropped in the pit of Laney’s stomach. How quickly would these creatures find William? Could she change her mind now that the Enders put him in immediate danger? She lifted the quill to the paper while the Wanderer already had her hand on the next manuscript—thick paper bound in reddish leather.
As he rounded the corner, William felt something was wrong deep inside. He unzipped his pack to remove his gun, then extinguished his candle.
Would this work? There were so many factors that were different—he was outside his book, his will had grown stronger, and he didn’t have his Watcher pendant, and perhaps, that would make all the difference. But she had a new connection with him. She lifted her hand to his Watcher pendant, feeling its warmth against her chest. She also wasn’t sure if the true codex in her pocket allowed her new abilities.
Ignoring Laney, the Wanderer had Nick in her clutches with his hand spread across the new book. The agony was clear in his eyes, even from Laney’s vantage point. This was killing him inside. When he was only their personal transportation, he was doing something good—saving the Weavers. But now, transporting evil through his very core had to leave some kind of mark. His body glowed so bright that Laney had to cover her eyes with her arm, daring only to look again when she was sure it was safe.
But it wasn’t safe. He collapsed beside the Wanderer. His face was so pale. Lying on the floor in two massive piles of flesh and weapons and hair were what appeared to be trolls like the ones Laney imagined in the Hobbit. Her hand holding the quill shook, making it difficult to write another word.
“You’re killing him.” The forceful words reminded Laney of someone else, someone with more command of who she was inside. Her hand continued to shake. She had to take control. “You’re killing him.”
“Do you think I’m deaf? I can see what it’s doing to him.” The Wanderer kept her eyes on the trolls and off Nick lying still on the floor. “Do you really think I care? As long as he has breath in his lungs, I’ll keep bringing killers into the maze.”
One of the two enormous beasts woke as a word-by-word apparition of William’s actions appeared on the page.
The extinguished candle was but a distant memory as the darkness crept in on William from all sides. He clutched his gun to his chest, which rose and fell in uneven breaths as the black shadows around him threatened to overtake his soul. With his free hand, he grasped the Weaver pendant and the clockcase necklace, hoping they’d bring him a glimmer of light.
The troll rose to its feet in a cacophony of grunts, its hands touching the ground until it rose to its full form. Before the monster could react, the Wanderer dashed to the other side of Nick, placing the Gate Keeper between her and the troll. It raised its club but then rubbed its eye with its other hand, as if waking from a winter’s nap.
“Where am I?” Its voice echoed for miles throughout the cavernous library. “Anje?” The monster stood over the other creature as it rolled on its side, grasping its head with both hands.
“Leave me alone. Me had a terrible dream of being torn away from my dinner.” The troll on the floor groaned, this time clutching tufts of the little hair it had left and ripping them out by the handful. “Me head hurts.”
The standing troll turned to Nick. “Are you the wizard that took us from our home?” It took a thunderous step in his direction, causing the whole ground to shake beneath them.
In the shadow of the monster, Nick appeared as fragile as a dry stick. Laney saw words appear on the parchment out of the corner of her eye, but her immediate concern was saving Nick from the dim-witted assassins.
“She’s the wizard you seek.” Laney stood at the desk and pointed at the Wanderer. “If anyone’s to blame for this, it’s her.”
“Is this true, redheaded lady?” The troll now bypassed Nick, who rolled to the side. The monster towered over the Wanderer.
There was no fear in the woman’s eyes—it was more defiance. “That woman is a pathological liar. The wizard you seek is out in the maze, hiding from you in fear.” The Wanderer marched over to the desk and grabbed the borrowed Weaver pendant from Laney’s hand. “The coward wears this symbol and is to be killed on sight.”
One of the trolls lifted its club high above its head and released it into the shelves of books. Metal buckled, and books flew in every direction. If William or her family were still alive, she had precious minutes to save them.
