Seven Wonders Book 3 (13 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

F
LYING
Z
OMBIE
S
KIN

G
ETTING HIT IN
the eye with a piece of flying zombie arm skin is not super fun. The sting is as bad as the stink.

I tried to blink the tiny shard from my eye, which was watering like crazy. “Are you all right?” Dad asked.

“Answer my question—is that the best you can do?” the woman demanded. Through my one good eye I could see her descending the stairs in lurching steps, leaving tiny fragments of herself all around her. I couldn't decide if they were pieces of bone, sections of her raggedy toga, or very bad eczema.

“It is!” Aly blurted out. “Or it isn't. I don't know. Could you rephrase the question?”

As the creature moved forward, leaving a trail of withered debris, her arm remained pointing upward. My eye was clearing now, awash in tears. I followed the angle of her skeletal finger to the top of the Mausoleum, where Canavar sat uncomfortably on one of the horses of the marble chariot.

“For a soul, you half-wit!” the woman replied. “Is that the best you could do for a soul? That shriveled prune of a human being?”

“I have hidden qualities, O Lady of the House,” Canavar shouted, peering down from the marble horse like a gargoyle. “Which I shall be delighted to enumerate, preferably face-to-face. Or . . . face to what remains of thine. Thou wouldst not happen to have a ladder?”

The woman twirled her finger in a circle, muttering under her breath.

With a screech, Canavar shot up into the air like a torpedo. He fell toward us, arms and legs flailing. Torquin stood, rocking from side to side as he positioned himself underneath. Canavar landed in his grip silently, as if Torquin had caught a giant marshmallow.

“Touchdown,” Torquin murmured.

“We mean no harm,” Aly said, her voice shaky. “My name is Aly, these are Jack, Cass, Torquin, and Mr. Martin McKinley. Those people behind us are Dr. Theresa Bradley and Professor Radamanthus Bhegad. And you?”

As the woman lowered her hand, the skin peeled off her pinkie, dropping to the stairs. I had to turn away in disgust. “I am Skilaki,” she said.

“A beautiful name indeed,” Canavar blurted out. “Lovely. Lyrical. My name is Canavar—Dr. Canavar, to be precise—and I owe you a great deal of grati—”

“My name means ‘little dog,' and I despise it!” Skilaki shot back. “I was called Sibyl Seventy-three, which was fine with me, but our ruler wouldn't have it. Too many sibyls, she said. And what the Great Queen Artemisia wants, she gets. Now, if it is entry you seek, let us trade and be done with it. Artemisia does not like to be disturbed! But perhaps I can bring her a better specimen than this . . . homunculus. Caviar.”

“Canavar,” the shrunken man said. “And thou art so right. I am not worthy. My soul is parched and wrinkled—”

“Silence, dwarfling, or you return to the chariot!” Skilaki shouted.

I swallowed. Facing Skilaki was not easy. Her eyes seemed to float in their sockets, as if they might fall out at any second. I tried to control my trembling as I spoke. “We're seeking the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus,” I said. “We just want to walk in, find something we need, and leave.”

“And what is it you need, child?” Skilaki asked.

Cass and Aly looked at me in panic.

Did she know about the powers of the Loculi? I had no idea. I couldn't tip our hand. If she knew what we were really after, and why, it could make our job harder.

“A . . . stone ball,” I said. “Nothing of much importance. But we humans prize its beauty. We understand it was given to Artemisia many years ago. Maybe you can help us.”

Skilaki looked at me blankly for a long second, then stomped her feet angrily. I turned away, not wanting to see any more peelings. “Do not talk to me of silly rocks! The queen. Requires. A soul. For entry.”

“I have a feeling you don't mean
sole
, like a shoe,” Cass said. “Or a fish. Because those we could do—”

Skilaki narrowed her eyes, releasing a few eyelashes to the ground. “You try my patience!”

Cass backed away. “Just checking.”

“Okay, you take a soul from us, just say,” Aly said. “What happens to that person after the soul is gone?”

“The soul enters a glorious state,” Skilaki said. “Floating free of physical constraints. Absorbing knowledge and wisdom. Eventually, perhaps, finding a home in another body. The original body is freed also—freed of emotions and thought, able to function at the level of pure action, as would the most industrious of insects.”

“So you're asking us for a volunteer to become a zombie?” I said.

“I do not know this word. I am merely a gatekeeper for Artemisia,” Skilaki said. “Does this request cause a problem?”

“Of course it does!” Aly shot back.

“Then fare thee well,” Skilaki said, turning her back to us.

As she ascended the steps, the entire Mausoleum structure vibrated. The ground shook again, and the walls began to fade.

“Oh, great, it's all going to disappear,” Cass said.

I broke away from Dad and ran after her. “Wait!” I shouted.

“Jack, get back here!” Dad called out.

I could hear him running after me. I raced past Skilaki and turned, blocking her way to the door. “I want to see Artemisia,” I said. “Tell her I'm . . . I'm a descendant of Massarym.”

Skilaki nearly lost her balance. “You dare ask for—” She cut herself off, leaning forward. “Massarym, you say? Actually, there is a resemblance.”

“Tell your queen we will consider giving her a soul, but only if she gives us the stone ball and safe passage back,” I demanded.

From the baring of what were left of her teeth, I knew that yes was not in the ballpark. Skilaki took a step back and began raising her hand. “You have no power to bargain.”

I could feel my feet leaving the ground. I turned, trying to wrap my arm around a column to keep from being flung into the air.

“Keep away from him!” Dad grabbed her arm. He tried to pull her back but only came up with handfuls of shredded skin and toga. I was lurching upward as if my body were being pulled by a curtain cord.

“Stop!” a voice called out. “I volunteer!”

Skilaki turned. Dad froze. I felt my legs jamming back onto the ground.

Far behind us, Professor Bhegad stood up from his wheelchair. With a strength I didn't know he had, he held his head high. “I will do it. I give my soul to the Lady Artemisia freely.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

A G
AME
M
OST
D
ANGEROUS

W
E RUSHED TO
Professor Bhegad so quickly he fell back into his wheelchair. “You can't do this, Professor,” I said.

Professor Bhegad shook his head defiantly. “My children,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “look at me. I don't have long to live. You cannot conceive the pain I have been through. Once I'm gone, I'm useless to you. Please . . . let my death help in the quest for the Loculi.”

Dad looked at the old man in bewilderment. “You're willing to die for them?”

Professor Bhegad nodded. “I am willing to do what's right.”

“We can't let you,” Aly said.

“You wouldn't like the life of a zombie, Professor,” Cass said.

“Skilaki,” I said. “Please. Let us have a minute or so.”

She rolled her eyes, and one of them slipped out of the socket. As it fell toward the ground, she caught it in her right hand and popped it back in. “I have all the time in the world,” she said. “Literally.”

“I did not see her do that,” Cass said.

I raced down the stairs, gesturing for the others to follow. Torquin stepped behind Professor Bhegad's chair and fastened a seat belt around him. He bent his knees, gripped the handrests, and lifted the chair chest high. As Torquin walked carefully down the stairs, Bhegad placed his hand on the big guy's. “I will miss you, old friend,” he said.

Torquin coughed. His face was extra red. As he set the old man down, he wouldn't look at us.

What would Professor Bhegad's death do to him?

What would it do to us?

I glanced at Bhegad. Behind his watery, bloodshot eyes was a strength as solid as the marble columns above us.

“Jack . . . ?” Aly's voice brought me back to the present.

“Here's the plan,” I said. “We let her take him. But we act superfast. We get Artemisia to give us the Loculus before they actually do anything to him.”

“This is crazy, Jack,” Cass said. “What if they zombify him first?”

“Remember Charles Newton's message—‘Where the lame walk, the sick rise, the dead live forever,'” I recited. “Doesn't that mean the Loculus can restore life? We bring Bhegad back with us and use the powers on him.”

Dad blanched. “Jack, this is playing with life and death.”

“'Tis a game most dangerous for mortals,” Canavar warned.

“I have everything to offer and nothing to lose,” Professor Bhegad spoke up. “If I die here, the quest ends. I will have lived for nothing. If my sacrifice brings forth a Loculus, at least my life will have had some worth. Please. Let us take the chance.”

He looked at each us deliberately, deeply. No one said a word. Torquin let out an uncharacteristic squeak that sounded like a gulp or a sneeze. He stared fiercely at the distance, blinking.

Bhegad took Torquin's hand. “My trusty helpmeet, despite our myriad differences, I believe I will miss you most of all. Shall we?”

The big guy nodded, his features dark and hollow behind the bristling beard. Silently he gripped the wheelchair and started up the stairs again.

“Dear lady,” Bhegad called upward as strongly as his voice allowed, “I will give you my soul on two conditions. That you allow my friends to accompany me there. And that you promise them safe return.”

“Entry is possible for all,” Skilaki said. “Returning is not, unless . . .”

“Unless what?” Cass said.

The ex-sibyl's arm whipped forward, grabbing Cass by the chin. With a sharp twist of her wrist, she forced him to turn around and she gazed at the back of his head.

Her jaw dropped to the ground. Literally.

After picking it up and reattaching it, she said, “I have heard of the mark, yet this is the first time I have seen it. You, my boy, shall be allowed free passage.”

“Because of the lambda?” Cass said.

“Skilaki, all three of us have it,” I announced.

“Then by your marking shall you return,” Skilaki said. “But no one else.”

Dad stepped forward, gripping my arm. “You're crazy if you think I'll let you go in there alone. I'm his father!”

Professor Bhegad reached out and took Dad's hand. “He has to, Martin. You know this. You want your son to live. Choose my death, not his.”

Dad opened his mouth to reply, then clamped it shut. Time seemed to stop for a long moment, as we all stared at him. Even Skilaki.

I felt his fingers waver. And then, slowly he loosened his grip. His eyes were desperate, filling with tears.

“Jack will come back,” Torquin said softly. “Good training. Good genes.”

Dad didn't say a word. Instead he wrapped me in a tight hug and told me he loved me.

I felt Aly's arm around one shoulder, Cass's around the other. As Dad let go, Skilaki turned to climb the steps to the black archway. “Delighted this ordeal is over. Now come. Leave your bags,” she added, pointing at the backpack in which I'd hidden the Loculi.

“But . . . my bag has stuff I need,” I protested. I was not keen on entering one of the Seven Wonders without any magical help at all.

Skilaki shook her head. “You need nothing inside. You bring nothing. And leave the rolling chair here. You will not need it, either.”

Cass, Aly, and I shed our backpacks. I handed mine to my father as Torquin helped Professor Bhegad up from the wheelchair. I took his arm. It seemed bony and fragile inside his tweed coat. “‘Once more into the breach,'” the old man murmured.

As we stepped toward the portal, a blast of white light hit me in the face. For a brief moment, before I closed my eyes, I could see Bhegad's face lit up like a screen.

He was smiling.