Billy: Messenger of Powers (41 page)

The Fizzle scuttled over to the pieces of broken mug and began to gather them up in its tiny arms (Billy decided he was just going to call them arms, even though the Fizzle seemed to run on them or use them to grasp things at will). However, even with its many hands, it was too small to get all the pieces gathered up. A shrill whistle came from the Fizzle, and a moment later three more of them appeared from nowhere, emerging from the darkness under the bar.

The newcomers—each subtly different from one another, but cut from similar molds—scuttled over to the Fizzle who was holding some of Billy’s mug. They put their heads together, and Billy could hear wordless whisperings, with one of the Fizzles occasionally glancing over its shoulder at Billy. There were no expressions on those tiny stone faces, but each time that happened, Billy felt like the Fizzle in question was saying “How could you?” in exasperated tones.

Finally, all four Fizzles gathered up the last bits of Billy’s broken mug. Then they scampered off under the bar, and with four matching “pops,” they disappeared, leaving Billy, once more, alone.

This was fine with Billy. He got slowly back to his feet, glancing at the door to the anteroom once more. Still no Wolfen. He looked back at the shelf under the bar, and saw that a new mug of hot chocolate had appeared. Billy took it and sipped it gladly. The liquid, as it had before, tasted absolutely wonderful. It seemed almost like Billy was pouring courage and consolation down his throat, making him feel as though perhaps everything would turn out all right.

He looked around. As before, the pot-bellied stove glowed with cheery warmth, and the window offered a spectacular view of the windswept mountains and the beautifully shimmering snowflakes that were too large to be believed and constantly grouped themselves into shapes and images. Billy watched, in quick succession, a snowflake beaver, a snowflake book, and a snowflake baseball bat appear. Apparently the snowflakes were practicing their “B” words today.

Billy sank down on a bean bag, grateful for a moment alone to think without having to worry about sudden and painful doom falling on him. He had almost forgotten what a moment without threat of death felt like.

He thought about Wolfen. How had the man lied to the Diamond Dais? What was he doing just sitting there alone? Waiting for Billy? That seemed to make no sense, but Billy had to admit to himself that Wolfen hadn’t seemed at all surprised by Billy’s sudden appearance out of the elevator.

What seemed to make even less sense, however, was Wolfen’s failure to keep Billy under the control of the Dread. What had happened when the Black Power reached out? What had caused the bright flash of light? What had saved Billy?

“What saved me?” he said out loud. He did it unconsciously, not expecting any reply, just so deep into his thoughts that his mouth was operating on its own.

But in spite of the fact that he didn’t expect one, a reply
did
come. Billy felt a sudden coolness at his leg. It was just like the cool tingling he had felt before, down in the Accounting Room. Vester and Tempus had just been dispatched by the zombies, and Billy had had his eyes closed and felt that strange sensation.

Billy looked down at his foot, for now the cool feeling had traveled there. And he saw what had saved him from Wolfen.

It was Vester’s lava Fizzle, the red snake emerging from Billy’s pants leg where it had been hiding and then laying in a small coil nearby Billy’s feet. Billy remembered Ivy telling him that Fizzles could be let loose if their makers weren’t careful. Apparently Vester had allowed this one to go free, either on purpose or because the zombie attack in the Accounting Room had not allowed him to maintain control over the magical creature.

The lava Fizzle flicked a flaming tongue out and in, staring at Billy. Billy looked back at it. The snake’s skin, being molten rock, moved back and forth in a shifting pattern that was both beautiful and disconcerting. Its eyes were simply two spots that glowed a bright yellow, like embers about to be cast off at any moment. But even though the Fizzle had been born of lava and the Element of Fire, it didn’t burn the hardwood floor below it. Apparently it could control its heat.

Of course, Billy thought. That’s why I didn’t feel it burning me. That’s why it felt cool, like a regular snake would have.

Billy leaned a bit closer to the snake. “You saved me?” he asked. The Fizzle paused a moment, its tongue still flicking, then slowly dipped its head in affirmation. “Why?” asked Billy. But the Fizzle clearly couldn’t talk: it just stared at Billy and shook its head back and forth. “Well,” said Billy. “Thank you.”

The Fizzle grinned and nodded. A clear “you’re welcome.”

“Do you have a name?” asked Billy. The Fizzle shook its head. “Can I give you one?” Nod. Billy thought. What would he call it? Fire-monster? Snaky? No, those sounded lame, and Billy wanted something cool for the beast that had just saved his life.

“Viper?” he tried. The Fizzle looked vaguely disgusted. “Flame?” Even more disgusted. “What about His Royal Highness Prince Snakeyton the Third?” Billy asked with a grin.

To Billy’s surprise, the snake nodded, looking very pleased. Billy laughed. “That’s a bit long, though,” he said. “How about I just call you Prince?” The snake nodded again, as though accepting this, but it seemed slightly less thrilled over the shortened version of his new name.

“So,” Billy said after a moment, “you can’t talk.” The snake shook its head. “But you did save me. Was that on purpose?” Nod. Billy thought. “You’re a Fizzle. Do you know who made you?” Another nod. Billy thought some more. He remembered that Imbued Objects had a piece of their maker’s essence inside them. He wondered if it was the same for Fizzles. “Since Vester made you, do you have some of Vester’s feelings?” He felt rather silly asking that question, but Prince took it in stride and simply nodded. “So…,” Billy began slowly, working it out in his mind as he spoke, “you like me, and don’t like Wolfen.” The snake nodded, but slowly, as though Billy was almost, but not quite right. “You like me, and
hate
Wolfen?” he tried again. This time, the nod was more vigorous, but still held something back. Billy tried again. “You
love
me, and hate Wolfen?”

This time, the snake nodded enthusiastically. Billy felt warm inside. His parents loved him, he knew that. Or at least, he knew his mom loved him, and suspected it was also true of his father. But he couldn’t think of anyone else who had ever expressed that feeling. He’d never met his grandparents—all of them had died before Billy was born—and none of his schoolmates had ever shown him any particular affection. So knowing that Prince loved him, and that that meant that
Vester
had come to love him, even in the short period they had had to interact, meant a great deal to Billy.

He stood quickly, suddenly resolved to fix things. He was going to find his friends. He was going to find Dark Isle, and he was going to free them.

He looked at the anteroom door. There was no way out there: he didn’t know if Wolfen was still waiting for him, or if Cameron or Eva Black might be lurking outside the door, but he couldn’t risk that. Not until he had some way to fight them, some weapon or something that would even the odds.

Billy spent a few moments looking around the room. He looked behind the pot-bellied stove, to see if perhaps there was another door leading out. He tapped the walls and the floor, listening to hear if there were perhaps hollow spaces that might hold a hidden doorway or even just something he could maybe break through to make his escape. But everything was solid and firm.

He looked at Prince. “Do you know a way out?” Snakes didn’t have shoulders, at least as far as Billy knew, but he could swear that the Fizzle shrugged. Billy continued looking, but didn’t have much hope. It appeared as though he was going to have to go back out the way he had come in.

At least I can wait a while here, he thought. Maybe they’ll be gone when I come out.

Then on the heels of that he thought, Fat chance.

A moment later, another thought popped, unbidden and most certainly unwelcome, into his head. It consisted of only two words, but those words were more than enough to send him rocketing around the room, looking—frantically this time—for a way out. The words were these: Mrs. Black.

She was a Councilor, he realized. She probably knew the keyword for the anteroom, even if Wolfen didn’t. And he knew that she had been in the tower, because the elevator had told him so. Surely Cameron would tell his mother that Billy had been in the Accounting Room, and just as surely Mrs. Black would be able to track him down, get into the anteroom, and then turn him over to Wolfen.

Billy’s sense of urgency increased as he thought all of this. He didn’t have hours, or perhaps even minutes. How can I get out? he thought desperately. How can I get out?

Prince followed him around as Billy looked helplessly for some sign of an exit, but other than providing companionship he didn’t give much help.

Billy looked at the huge glass window. The snowflakes outside had arranged suddenly into a chillingly accurate rendition of Wolfen’s face, then into an equally frightening version of Mrs. Black’s cold features. Billy ran at the glass, thinking he might be able to just smash through it himself. But it was no use. The glass—if it even was glass, and not some kind of magical substance that couldn’t be broken—resisted him easily, and once more Billy found himself bouncing to the floor like a rubber ball. His shoulder ached.

“Ow,” he moaned. Still on the floor, he looked around again. “How do I get out?” he said. Prince hissed. “Sorry, how do
we
get out?”

He looked out the window again. There
had
to be a way to break it. But then his attention was arrested once more by the snowflakes outside. They had made a new shape. At first Billy didn’t recognize it, but then suddenly he realized what it was: a cocoa mug. Billy watched as, slowly, in a glimmer of bright color, the snowflake mug tipped, and Billy could actually see snowflake cocoa spilling out before scattering into separate pieces in the storm.

He couldn’t look away from the sight. Somehow, he felt, the snowflakes weren’t just making a random shape this time. It was like they had done when they had formed a large hand waving goodbye the last time he had left the anteroom. They were, not talking exactly, but communicating somehow.

They’re trying to help me find a way out, he realized.

“But how does a mug of cocoa get me out?” he asked.

In answer, the snowflakes repeated their pantomime, the icy doilies whirling together to once more make the shape of a mug, which once more spilled out.

Billy thought. He looked at Prince. The Fizzle looked thoroughly puzzled.

Then, suddenly, Billy knew.

He hurried to the bar. As he had expected, there was cocoa waiting for him once more. But not just one mug. This time, the entire space beneath the bar was chock full of steaming cups of cocoa. The smell was delicious, but Billy had no intention of drinking them.

He put a hand on the floor. “Get on,” he told Prince. The lava snake obliged, curling up on Billy’s wrist. As soon as the snake was safely in place, Billy used his other arm to sweep every single mug under the bar out onto the floor. They landed in a wet, sloppy shatter that immediately drenched everything—including Billy—in wonderful-smelling chocolate that was littered with shards of broken cups.

A moment later, a Fizzle—the same one who had cleaned up Billy’s first spill—ran out from under the bar. It screamed a tiny, high-pitched scream when it saw the mess. A moment later, a dozen or so other Fizzles appeared, holding rags and tiny mops. They began scrubbing at the mess.

Billy looked under the bar again. More cocoa had appeared, in answer to his silent request. He swept that onto the floor as well, the cleaner Fizzles jumping out of the way of the new torrent of spills and cocoa disaster. Billy wished more cocoa into existence and did it again. And again. A dozen more Fizzles appeared, then two dozen, then hordes of the tiny rock creatures were all around, trying in vain to keep up with Billy as he spilled cocoa as fast as he could.