Secrets of Yden (17 page)

****

Wednesday was supposed to be the big day, the next event window. When Jon came downstairs for breakfast, his mother showed him an article in the morning newspaper about the museum art exhibit and preview night. The story highlighted the artists who would be there to meet the press and public. Photos of Jon's Imp and dragon pieces were accompanied by the disclosure he was dating
Immortal Soule
star, January Beck.

"The press will go nuts when I show up with her tomorrow night," he said.

"Are you and January really going to be dating? She's a lovely girl, but now that I know her better, I'm not completely certain she's your type."

Jon chuckled. "Don't worry. After this museum exhibit, my fifteen minutes of fame will be over and she won't want to go out with me anymore."

"You're joking, right?"

"Only a little."

All day long Jon waited for an anomaly, but nothing happened. As time passed, he became increasingly edgy… like he was listening for the imminent swish of the guillotine.

Casey stopped him in the hallway. "Anything yet?"

"Nope," Jon replied. "Situation normal."

Kira and Brett asked him the same question when they had a private moment at lunch, but Jon shook his head. "So far, so good."

"I heard a joke like that the other day," Fred said. "There's a guy who jumps out of a real tall building. As he passes each floor he yells 'So far, so good'."

Nobody laughed, since a recurrence of the anomaly would herald the same bad ending as Fred's joke. "Man, tough crowd," he muttered.

After school, Jon worked out in his garage. No anomaly interrupted his workout, and when he finally sat down to do homework, he was beginning to feel giddy with relief.
The day is almost over, so maybe we've managed to dodge a bullet.

Even so, he vowed to find the missing section of the portal spell scroll. For some reason, something
had
gone terribly wrong when Guinn passed through the portal. Jon had assumed it was because he'd used a copied Portal Key, but
if
a prophecy was involved, he couldn't be sure anymore. He still didn't believe in prophecy exactly, but better safe than sorry.

****

Jon greeted Casey with a huge grin at school the next morning.

"Day twenty has come and gone. All is well, so put that in your graph and chart it!"

Casey shook his head. "Not so fast. I called it an
event window
for a reason. We're not in the clear yet."

Jon's grin slipped. "When exactly does this window close?"

"The short, non-technical answer? It doesn't."

Wide-eyed, Jon gaped. "What! Not ever?"

"The odds of an anomaly occurring would appear to lessen with every passing day, but I don't have enough information to give you an exact answer."

"So to make absolutely, positively certain the world doesn't essentially come to an end, we've still got to shut down the unstable portal."

"Yes, and the spell on Guinn's scroll only tells how he opened it. We
'
ve only got part of the story."

"You know, it only takes one unstable portal to completely ruin a guy's day," Jon grumbled. "And I was looking forward to tonight."

"Oh yeah, tonight's the preview," Casey said. "That should be exciting."

As compared to what?

****

When they arrived at the museum, eager patrons were already queued up behind red velvet ropes. The press was there, too. As Jon escorted January toward the museum entrance, photographers went crazy with pictures. Mr. Emerson was waiting, wearing his best designer-label Hawaiian shirt. He'd also changed out his flip-flops for clogs, and brushed his long hair into a ponytail. The look went well with the surfboard earring dangling from one earlobe.

"When it comes to authentic artist-look, my art teacher comes across as the real deal," Jon murmured to January.

"Straight out of Central Casting," she whispered.

Jon introduced January and his uncle to an enthusiastic Mr. Emerson. "I'm glad you could make it," Mr. Emerson said. "Come meet Ted Duell. He's a cool dude."

The art instructor escorted them into the museum atrium, a circular structure nearly three stories tall, topped by a glass dome overhead. Duell, the museum curator, joined them there. The man seemed nervous as a poodle. Jon assumed he was worried about the preview, but Mr. Emerson confided the man was always tightly strung.

Duell gave Jon a Cheshire cat grin. "So you're our young artist, Jon Hansen! I see you've brought your girlfriend, Miss Beck. I'm delighted to meet you both."

Jon let his protestations about January not being his girlfriend die on his lips. Instead, he introduced Duell to Charles.

"So glad to have you, Mr. Parker." Duell beamed and pumped Charles's hand. "Let's go sneak a peek at the exhibit before I let the press and public in. The other artists are already here, Jon, so you're in good company."

As they headed toward the exhibit, Jon felt like pinching himself to make sure this wasn't a dream. He'd visited the museum several times before, most recently with his history class, but he couldn't ever have imagined his artwork would be displayed here.

Just outside the exhibit room, in a wide hallway, a hosted bar and appetizer buffet had been set up. Several bartenders were standing at the ready, along with a team of waitpersons hired for the event. Many of the artists were clustered nearby, imbibing free wine and helping themselves to cheese and dim sum hors d'oeuvres.

When Jon entered the exhibit, he was astonished to find his collection right up front. The unicorns were grouped together, the seashells formed another grouping, and the other pieces were featured individually. Under the special museum lighting, the collection looked outstanding.

Mr. Emerson chuckled. "Far out, huh?"

January gasped. "Amazing."

"You did a great job matting and framing everything, Mr. Emerson," Jon said. "Thank you."

The art teacher waved away his thanks. "Glad to do it for my star pupil."

Jon felt Charles's hand on his shoulder. "Congratulations. I'm so pleased for you. Do you feel like a real artist now?"

"Mostly I feel humbled," Jon said. "Thank you, Mr. Duell, for the opportunity to show my work."

Duell rubbed his hands together. "I should thank
you
. You're going to bring in a lot of donations tonight. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll open the doors."

Jon waited until the curator was gone before high-fiving Mr. Emerson and Charles. Two of the other artists came over to introduce themselves. Since Jon was extremely familiar with their work, he was slightly tongue-tied. One artist was known for her surreal fantasy work on book and record album covers, and the other was famous for science fiction-themed artwork. His exhibit featured artwork Jon recognized from posters and billboards. Like a goofy star-struck fan, Jon asked the artists to autograph the preview program Duell had given him.
I'll frame this and hang it on my wall.

Mr. Emerson and Charles went off to get a drink from the bar and Jon noticed January peering at
Warrior Princess
. She glanced at him as he joined her.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he asked.

"In a minute. This is a wonderful likeness to Kira. It's too bad you didn't put mine up, too." She pantomimed vampire fangs.

"I think I can do better than a silly horror sketch. I'd be honored if you'd sit for a real portrait sometime."

"Really? I'd kiss you, but you'd only bite me."

Jon tried to think of a witty rejoinder, but he only managed to blush instead. January giggled. "You get embarrassed worse than anyone I've ever met. I really like that about you."

Patrons began to flock into the exhibit, with members of the press leading the pack. Jon gulped at the sight of numerous television cameras, photographers, and reporters with notepads. January noticed him edging backward and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't let 'em see you sweat," she whispered. "Don't forget — you've got something they want.
You've
got the power, so don't be afraid to use it."

Jon stuck his feet to the floor and stood up straighter. "Good advice."

Mr. Emerson and Charles ran interference for him by sorting through the press and slowing the onslaught of interviews and well-wishers to a steady stream. Duell even kept him supplied with bottled water. After a while, Jon realized he was getting the same questions over and over, so his answers became rote.

Things were going so well, he was lulled into a sense of complacency… until a brief warning from Ophelia startled him. Although her slight sting was over almost before it began, he began scanning the crowd for hostile wizards anyway. Just when he'd dismissed the sensation as static electricity, another danger appeared; Majell Walker from Channel Eight showed up and got in his face. No escape was possible, since January was signing autographs next to a potted plant, Mr. Emerson was talking to a group of people some distance away, and Charles was stuck in a line at the bar. The television camera's red light was blinking and it was recording.

I'm dog food.

"Jon Hansen, you seemed to have created quite a buzz at this science fiction and fantasy art exhibit tonight. Does your interest in the fantastic have anything to do with your father's mysterious disappearance last year?"

Majell shoved his microphone at Jon.

Oh, no, not this again.

"Not at all," he replied, more calmly than he felt. "There wasn't anything mysterious about the kidnapping as it turned out, and my father is home now, safe and sound."

"But Dr. Hansen's return was never fully explained, was it? Some have said he was pulled into a parallel universe for a period of time. What do you say?"

"That's nuts. There's no such thing as a parallel universe."

"No? Then what's
Secrets of Eden
really all about?"

Before he could answer, Charles suddenly stepped in to block the camera. "I'm sorry, but all interviews with Jon have to be cleared through me."

"And you are…?"

"Jon's legal representative. And you are not cleared for an interview, nor are you likely to be." To Jon's relief, Charles hustled him back through the crowd. "I'm sorry… I shouldn't have left you alone."

Without warning, Bailey stepped into Jon's path and sucker-punched him. Caught completely off guard, Jon was felled like a shooting target at a carnival booth. Onlookers gasped and shrank back.

"That was for Guinn." Bailey beckoned for Jon to get up. "The rest is for me."

Charles reached for Bailey, but Jon waved him off. "I've got this."

Blood was welling up from a cut in his mouth, but as Jon got to his feet, he had a grin on his face. "You have my attention, Bailey. Give it your best shot."

"With pleasure, mate."

Bailey's haymaker punch swung wide, and Jon managed to duck underneath it. As he came up, he sank an uppercut punch to Bailey's midsection, grabbed him by the back of the shoulder, and pulled him into a knee strike to his solar plexus. When Bailey curled toward the ground, Jon struck the nape of his neck with a bent elbow. The Shark Clan wizard fell flat.
Thanks, Max, for the martial arts lessons.

"Bite me, Shark-face," Jon said.

Charles shoved a knee into Bailey's back to keep him on the ground. The glint of a transporter cuff became visible underneath the cuff of Bailey's long-sleeved shirt, but the man wore no clan ring.
Bailey took it off before Ophelia could warn me properly.
Security guards were approaching, and Jon knew an extended interrogation of his assailant would be disastrous.
We have to let him escape.

"Chaz, let the security guards handle him."

Charles glanced up and when Jon shook his head slightly, he reluctantly released Bailey and allowed him to rise. The Shark Clan wizard scrambled to his feet and waved his arms at the reporters and TV cameras to get their attention.

"Jon Hansen is a murderer! He killed Guinn Tanner!"

Security guards closed in then, but Bailey dodged around a potted tree to elude them and sped down the hall. Ophelia's sting told Jon that Bailey had finally donned his clan ring. After Bailey turned a corner, a subsequent flash of light was followed by the sound of distant thunder — the unmistakable sound of a wizard transporting to Yden. Reporters and museum patrons gasped.

"What was
that?
" someone muttered. "Did the guy explode?"

Charles hustled Jon to one side. "Are you all right?"

Although his lip was bleeding profusely, Jon nodded. "I hope Bailey has a sore neck."

January rushed over with a wad of paper napkins from the bar and tried to stanch the flow of blood.

"Ouch. Thanks," Jon mumbled through the paper.

Mr. Emerson came over to check on him as the bewildered security guards returned to confer with Duell. The guards were shrugging and shaking their heads. Jon could tell they had no clue how the thug had escaped, and never would. Several reporters crowded around Jon and January, lobbing questions.

"Jon, how do you know that man?"

"Who is Guinn Tanner and what connection does he have to you?"

"Is Guinn Tanner a former flame, Miss Beck?"

Charles held up his hands and told everyone Jon wasn't going to be taking any more questions tonight.

"I bet this whole thing is a publicity stunt," Majell said loudly.

"Let's get you and January out of here," Charles murmured. "The sooner the better."

Duell overheard. "You can't leave yet. The police are on their way and they'll want to take a statement."

"Jon, take January and wait for me near the entrance," Charles said. "I've got to get a few things straight with Mr. Duell, and then I'll join you."

Jon understood Charles was trying to separate him from the reporters, so he didn't argue. "Okay."

While the security guards kept the reporters at bay, Jon grasped January's elbow and steered her down the hall. He ducked into the men's room to wash his face. His reflection in the mirror made him laugh; the trickle of blood down his chin gave him the look of a ghoul from
Immortal Soule
. When he emerged, January was waiting on a bench nearby.

"I hate to admit it, but these shoes are killing me," she said.

"You want me to carry you?"

She giggled. "Would you?"

January squealed when he scooped her up in his arms.

"You're much lighter than I thought you'd be."

"Put me down!" she cried. "This is embarrassing."

"Good," Jon said as he carried her toward the entrance. "I found something that embarrasses
you
for a change."

When they reached the atrium, Jon muttered a not-so-nice word. Almost as soon as he passed underneath the hanging banner with the stylized science fiction and fantasy art exhibit logo on it, everything and everyone suddenly froze in place. The sound of silence pressed against Jon's eardrums and he had to force himself to breathe.

Time has stopped
.

"What's happening?" January squirmed in Jon's arms. "Is this a joke? Why isn't anyone moving?"

"It's okay. It's a time anomaly. I've been expecting it."

"What? What are you talking about?" she cried. "You really
are
crazy!"

Freaked out, January began to kick her legs, scream, and bang on Jon's chest, so he was forced to put her down. Contact with Jon was the only thing keeping her in real time, and he had a millisecond to decide whether to release her or not. It didn't seem right, somehow, to let her freeze. So Jon clamped down on her wrist.

"Don't do this, January, unless you want to become like
those guys
," he said, jerking his head toward the people around them.

Past hysterical, she tried to pull away from him again, and he was compelled to take her into his arms. "Please calm down."

He tried to use a soothing voice, but she was kicking him in the shins with her pointy-toed designer shoes. He let go. The instant she broke free, January froze like a celebrity wax figure. Jon was alone, and if Casey's theory was correct, she'd be stuck that way for over an hour and a half. Aggravated beyond measure, he paced back and forth, trying to figure out what to do.

This whole situation was one big, stinking mess. Bailey had said he'd hunt Jon down, and unfortunately in this Internet age his publicity had told Bailey exactly where to find him. Jon certainly hadn't thought of
that
when trying to raise his profile.
I should've suspected he'd come here tonight, but I can't believe the idiot transported practically in public!