Seven Wonders Book 3 (22 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

T
HE
S
ONG OF THE
H
EPTAKIKLOS

“P
ROMISE YOU'LL STAY
with us,” Cass whispered over his shoulder as he climbed the basement stairs.

“Yes, Cass,” I said wearily, “I promise.”

“No chasing nice priests,” he said.

“Ha-ha-ha,” I said.

“Or being scared of beggars?”

“Knock it off!”

“Ssshh!” said Dad.

“Easy, Jack,” Aly whispered. “We don't have a Loculus of Soundproofing.”

We were walking fast, heading up from the lower level to the museum's first floor. At this point Cass was the only one holding on to the Loculus of Invisibility, which had hidden us nicely while the museum had closed for the night. But in a narrow stairwell it was hard for everyone to hold hands while one person held a Loculus, so Dad, Aly, and I were in plain sight. But that was fine. We'd snuck into a supply closet and found a custodial uniform for Dad. If someone did see us, Dad would say he was an employee and we were his niece and nephews from out of town, who he was showing around.

We gathered at the top of the stairs. The place echoed with the whine of distant vacuum cleaners. Just to be safe, we all held hands—Cass to Aly to me to Dad—and went invisible. We tiptoed through the empty Native American exhibit, under the disapproving frowns of dark totem poles that lined the aisles like trees in a forest.

At eight
P.M.
, the museum had been closed for over two hours. We'd already seen a lot of the place, and I hadn't yet felt any sign of the Loculus of Healing. We were going to cover every inch until we did.

“Uh, guys, I have to go,” Aly said.

“Go where?” Cass asked. “You have a hot date?”

“Go
there
, I mean.” Aly gestured toward the restrooms.

As she headed in that direction, we all followed to maintain our invisibility.

We walked past a huge wooden longboat filled with Native American mannequins and a bear. To our left was a locked exit. Windows looked out to a circular driveway and a row of old apartment buildings across the street.

Aly gave us a raised eyebrow look. “Guys. You're not invited,” she said.

“Not—wha?—we know!” Cass stammered. “We'll just, um, wait outside.”

But then I began to feel a tingling in my feet. Then my knees. My heart started to thump.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “It's here. The Loculus.”

“In the bathroom?” Aly asked.

“Farther away,” I replied. “But in this building. I feel it.”

Aly's face lit up. “Go find it! Now. You, too, Mr. McKinley. Give me your phone, Jack. Cass and I will follow with the Loculi and catch up.”

I fished out my phone and handed it to her. As Aly darted into the restroom and Cass vanished from sight, I went quickly into the next room. And the next. Dad followed close behind. Exhibits raced by us, but I hardly noticed. Rodents hanging on a wall. A roped-off exhibit in preparation. A stairway.

Floor Two. Secretary birds. African costumes. Antelopes.

The feeling was getting stronger, throbbing in the marrow of my bones, tickling the follicles of my skin. I stopped at the bottom of a dark stairway. “Up there,” I said quietly.

At the base of the stairs was a sign on a brass post that said
RESEARCH AREA/PERMIT REQUIRED
. Dad slid it aside. “I think an exception to the rule can be made.”

We scampered up the stairs and paused at the top, staring into a dimly lit hallway with closed doors on either side. Down at the far end was a T, two hallways leading left and right.

I froze. From the left hallway I could hear the steady tap-tap-tap of distant footsteps.

“Don't worry.” Dad smoothed his uniform and began whistling softly.

Whistling?

“Why are you doing that?” I whispered.

“So they know someone's here and won't be startled when they actually see us,” Dad said. “It'll be less suspicious. Now come on. Look like you belong.”

I tried not to feel completely dorkish as we walked up the corridor. But the Song of the Heptakiklos was screaming inside me, pulling me forward. Telling me where to go. “Go right,” I said through Dad's warbly whistle.

When we turned, we nearly collided with a woman in a simple custodial uniform, with her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. “Howdy!” Dad said, way too loudly.

“Yesterday,” the woman said.

“Huh?” Dad replied.

“The song you were whistling—‘Yesterday,' by the Beatles—I like it.” She looked closely at Dad's name tag. “How do you pronounce your name? Kosh . . . Koz . . .”

For the first time I saw the name tag on Dad's uniform:
KOŚCIUSZKO.

“Koz!” I blurted out. “Everybody calls him Koz.”

“This is my, er, nephew,” Dad added. “Just giving him a little private tour.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said, pointing to her own tag, which read
MARIA
. “My name's easy.”

“Well, Maria, we were just heading to grab something from room number . . .” Dad said, glancing toward me. “Room number . . . which one, young man?”

I didn't know!

It could have been any of the doors. There were three of them, one on each side and one at the end of the hallway. The sound was so unbearable I couldn't believe they weren't hearing it. I staggered closer. The room numbers swirled before my eyes—B23 . . . B24 . . . B25 . . .

I could feel Maria's gaze. “Is the boy all right?” she asked.

“Fine,” Dad said.

“Fine,” I said at the same time.

She suspects something's off. Pick a room. Any room.
“B twenty-four!” I blurted out.

I bolted to the door and turned the knob, but it wouldn't budge.

Dad forced a chuckle. “That door is locked . . . um, Josh. We lock our doors here, heh-heh.” He patted his pockets. “I, er, I think I left my key in my other pants.”

“Very energetic young man,” Maria said, fiddling with a lanyard around her neck. She stepped toward B24, holding out a plastic card. “Maybe he'll be a paleontologist someday.”

What if that's not the right room?

I knew I might need to try them all.

“Can I do it?” I said. “Operate the key. I just want to see how it works.”

Lame, lame, lame!

“That's a good idea,” Dad piped up. “That way you can leave us here, Maria. James can open all the doors. We'll return your key to you.”

Maria looked at him curiously. “I thought you said his name was Josh.”

“He always makes that mistake!” I blurted out, grabbing the key and sliding it down the slot.

The door clicked open. It was a small meeting room with one long table, bookshelves, and a whiteboard. But I was interested only in the two file cabinets along the opposite wall. I raced over and pulled them open.

Papers. Folders. “It's not here,” I said.

Now Maria looked alarmed. “What isn't?”

“Excuse me,” I said, backing out of the room, into the hallway. Dad continued talking, chortling, grabbing her attention, stalling.

There. B25.

The room at the end had double doors. As I stepped closer, the Song cranked up to eleven. It was deafening.

“The Beatles'
Abbey Road
, actually, was my favorite album . . .” came Dad's cheery voice from down the hall.

I had to find the Loculus before he bored Maria to death.

I slipped the card through the slot, hands shaking. The door opened and I flicked on a light.

The room was square and huge. Some kind of staging area for dioramas. Its smell made me gag, at once musty, sweet, and bitter—equal parts rot, animal odor, chemicals. A lifelike figure of a Neanderthal stood with its back to me, half-covered with hair. African tribal masks were lined up on a table next to bottles of cleaning fluid. Some kind of deity was sitting on a table, its headdress practically touching the low ceiling. It smiled down, surrounded by goats and cattle, balancing what looked like the sun in one hand and the moon in another.

In the center was a blocky wooden table about waist-high. On it were furry hides, rocks and gems, half-stuffed bird specimens, tools, half-used tubes and jars, lengths of rope. A strange raccoonlike creature seemed to be staring at me, but its eyes were missing and the bottom half of its body trailed over a mold like a baggy dress. All around the room were shelves, open wooden cases, cabinets with big doors. I went to work, opening them one by one, pushing aside tiny heads, bushy tails, flattened birds, a box of fake animal eyes, and what seemed to be a rhinoceros horn.

No Loculus . . . nothing . . . nothing.

“Argggh . . .” In frustration I banged my hand down hard on the center table. The deity seemed to jump.

The voices down the hall—Dad's and Maria's—had stopped.

But my eyes were rooted to the deity's left hand. To the replica of the sun it was holding high. It was painted a metallic gold and it seemed somehow too big for the statue's hand. Bigger than a basketball.

And it was moving.

No
.

I stepped closer and realized the object was perfectly still. Its surface—the paint itself—seemed to be in motion somehow, flowing slowly and unevenly around the sun. Light seemed to glow dully from within and then fade.

I placed my hands around it and pulled upward. I felt an excruciating twinge in my injured shoulder, where the griffin had nabbed me.

The sun separated from the deity's hands. I had it now. And warmth was taking hold of my entire body. It oozed slowly across my shoulder, tickling my skin. My body hummed with the Song of the Heptakiklos, every ache smoothing out as if the pain were being lifted out by invisible strings. I watched an open sore on my arm scab and fade.

He . . . ling
.

I thought of Professor Bhegad, and for a moment I wanted to cry. This was what we could have saved him with. Gencer's theft from the Mausoleum ruins had cost Bhegad's life.

But I could hear the old man's scolding voice in my head, telling me that this was what he wanted.
If my sacrifice brings forth a Loculus, at least my life will have had some worth.

We had three of them now. We were almost halfway there.

I felt an intense glow of well-being. The only thing that hurt was my face, because of the huge smile that was stretching across it.

“Eureka.”

Maria's voice shocked me out of my stupor. I spun around to the door, nearly dropping the Loculus of Healing.

She stood in the door with my dad. His eyes were wide with panic. “I . . . found what we were looking for,” I said.

With a quick shove, Maria sent him sprawling against a cabinet. In her right hand was a long gun with a silencer.

“You got here first,” she said. “But I get the prize.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

S
HOULDN'TS

I
HEARD THE
clatter of fossils raining down around Dad. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him covering his head with his arms. But I couldn't take my eyes off the weapon. “Your name isn't really Maria, is it?” I said. “And you don't work for the museum.”

The woman smiled. “Maria is indisposed at the moment. I expect she will eventually want this uniform back. You will be considerate and avoid soiling it with your blood, won't you? Now, to business.”

She held out her free hand, palm up.

The beeping of Dad's phone made me jump. Cass and Aly.

“Don't even think of answering that,” the woman said. “And don't even think of not handing the Loculus over.”

“Give it to her,” Dad said.

My brain shouted at me with shouldn'ts. I shouldn't have let down my guard. Shouldn't have left without Cass and Aly. Shouldn't have assumed that we would beat the Massa here.

Shouldn't have allowed myself to hope.

The phone stopped ringing. I had no choice now.

My body was strengthening by the second, but it didn't matter anymore. I moved my arms toward Maria, holding out the golden orb. “Give my regards to Brother Dimitrios,” I said. “And tell him we won't give up.”

“Oh, I'm not through with you, Josh-or-maybe-James.” With a mocking laugh she stepped forward, taking the Loculus from my hand. “Brother Dimitrios is expecting three of these, and so now you can just lead me to the others.”

“They're right here,” Dad piped up. “I have them!”

I spun around. Out of the shadow came a jagged black fossil, hurtling straight for the woman's face.

She flinched, turning away. The stone caught her on the side of the head with a thud both solid and sickening.

With a tiny, involuntary scream, she fell to her knees. I lunged forward, grabbing the Loculus from her hand.

Dad was scrambling across the room. His own head was bloody. He yanked away the gun with one hand, shoving her down to the floor with the other.

The rope
.

I grabbed it off the center table and tossed it to Dad. Dropping the gun, he took the woman's arms and held them behind her back. She thrashed and cursed, but he managed to tie her wrists tight.

“That was a petrified dinosaur jaw I conked her with,” he said, catching his breath. “Guess it qualifies as a blast from the past.”

The woman kicked with her legs but only succeeding in turning herself faceup. “You won't succeed,” she said. “You know this.”

“That's what my high school wrestling coach said to me thirty-two years ago,” Dad said. “But look—he was wrong!”

“Are you okay?” I asked him. “Your head . . .”

“To quote my favorite son,” Dad replied with a wry smile, “‘it's only a flesh wound.' Now let's find your friends. And be very careful. There are probably more Massa where this charming lady came from.”

We ran out of the room to the sound of the woman's threats. I held tight to the Loculus of Healing. “On the way down,” I said, “grab my arm. You'll feel a lot better.”