Shadow Train (17 page)

A trumpet blast of terror rang through his brain, and he shot down the hall—not running across the floorboards or even hovering above them, but rocketing in midair, down the hall and up the spiral staircase, up to the candlelit anteroom that stood outside the tower bedroom where he had imprisoned his father.

Aimee stood before the heavy wooden door in a thin white nightgown, her eyes closed. Her delicate white hand rested on the doorknob and she was slowly, slowly twisting it. The door itself made no sound—Orias's magic had ensured that—but it was twitching, bowing, shuddering violently in its frame as the furious fallen angel trapped inside battered against it, desperate to be let out.

“AIMEE, NO!” Orias bellowed, and he shot forward through the air and shoved her away from the door, so hard that she hit the wall beside it with enough force to crack the plaster. He got to the door just in time. As it came unlatched he managed to slam it shut again. Instantly, the tumult behind it subsided.

He should have realized that Aimee would have the power to break through his spell and open the door. Clearly, Oberon did, Orias thought as he snapped the deadbolt back into place.

A soft moaning sound drew his attention, and he saw Aimee was slumped against the wall, blinking in pain and confusion.

“Orias, what . . . what happened?” she asked. There were tears in her eyes, and when she reached up and touched the back of her head, her fingers came away bloody.

Orias hurried to her and helped her up.

“You were walking in your sleep, I think,” he told her. “Aimee, you must never open that door. Never. Do you understand me?
Never!
”

“You . . . you hurt me!” she said with childlike indignation, struggling to get away from him. He scooped her up into his arms and held her closer.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? I never want to hurt you. That's the last thing I want to do.”

“Let me go. Put me down or I'm going to slip home!”

Hastily, Orias set Aimee back on her feet. She looked at the door to the tower room, then back at him.

“What's in there?” she asked quietly. “What's behind that door?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing important.”

“Then why is it locked?” When he didn't answer she added, “Please tell me what's in there. I don't want any secrets between us.”

He sighed. “Okay, I'll tell you,” he said, gently taking her hand. “Let's go down to the kitchen, my sweet. I'll make you a nice cup of tea, and I'll tell you everything.”

* * *

Early Wednesday morning, Zhai held Kate's hand as they walked up the steps of Middleburg High with Dalton, Maggie, and Lily Rose. They all went through the doors, down the hall, and into the attendance office, to the desk where the principal's secretary sat.

“Hello there, Darleen,” said Lily Rose. Mrs. Burns looked up from a stack of files, but the harried expression on her face disappeared as soon as she saw the small, sweet woman in the fancy lavender hat standing before her. Lily Rose was wearing her church clothes this morning, which, Zhai knew, meant that she considered this an important event.

“Morning, Lily Rose,” Mrs. Burns replied. “What can I do for you?”

“I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine,” Lily Rose told her as she took Kate's hand and pulled her forward. “Darleen Burns, this is Miss Kate Dineen. Kate, this is Mrs. Burns. Kate is new in the area, recently moved here from Ireland, and she needs to sign up for classes.” Lily Rose looked at Kate. “Isn't that right, dear?”

But Kate was completely distracted. Amanda, one of Li's friends, was working as student office assistant that morning, and she was standing at a big, outdated dinosaur of a Xerox machine, copying permission slips for some upcoming event. Kate was staring at the machine in wide-eyed wonder as it rattled and hummed and spat out more and more identical sheets of paper while the light from the machine's scanner flashed back and forth beneath the closed copier lid.

“Kate?” Lily Rose repeated, but the girl remained mesmerized.

“Kate,” Zhai said, squeezing her hand.

At last they got her attention. “Oh, I'm sorry!” she said. “I was tryin' to count how many pages that printing press is puttin' out—one hundred and seventeen, and it's still going!”

Mrs. Burns looked at the copier, then back to Kate and cleared her throat. “Yes, well, that's what it's there for. Welcome to Middleburg, Kate. Are your parents with you?”

Kate shook her head. “No ma'am.”

“I assume you have all the necessary documentation you'll need to enroll. Student visa? Birth certificate?” Mrs. Burns asked.

Kate looked uncertainly at Lily Rose.

“Darleen, you see—Kate is a dear family friend,” Lily Rose said with a smile. “She's a stranger in a strange land, as they say, and all she wants is to learn. Now, if I'm not mistaken there are laws that say all children must be in school. There must be some way to get her signed up while she's waiting for her paperwork to get here—isn't there?”

As Lily Rose spoke, she reached out and placed her hand gently over the secretary's. Mrs. Burns hesitated for a moment, then blinked and looked at Kate as if seeing her anew. Sighing heavily, she opened the top drawer of her desk, pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen, and set them on the counter just as the first bell rang.

“Well . . . I guess so,” she said uncertainly. Lily Rose patted her hand again, and she passed the paper and pen to Kate. “Fill out this form to the best of your ability,” she instructed Kate. “I'll get you set up to take the placement test, then I'll get with Mr. Innis to decide what classes you'll be taking.”

Kate beamed with happiness as she picked up the pen. “Oh, aye—indeed I will, and I thank you.”

Zhai watched over her shoulder as she began, and he was amazed at her perfect, ornate penmanship.

“All right, Lily Rose,” said Mrs. Burns. “I'll take it from here. The rest of you kids need to get on to class. I'm not writing late passes for all of you.”

“Bye, Kate,” Dalton said, eyeing her curiously. “We'll see you at lunch.”

“Good luck on the placement test,” Maggie added.

Zhai quickly put a hand on Kate's waist and gave her a small, sideways hug as she continued to fill out the form. “Have a good first day,” he whispered. “If you need me, I'll be right down the hall.” He headed for the door but hesitated in the threshold to look back at her. It was always so hard to tear himself away from Kate.

He saw Lily Rose smile at Mrs. Burns. “Thank you so much, Darleen. You always were such a helpful girl. We haven't seen you in church in a long time, you know. The choir sure could use that big alto voice of yours.”

Mrs. Burns smiled back at her. “I'll drop in one of these Sundays.”

Lily Rose nodded, satisfied, and headed for the door, but she paused to look at the old railroad map and the admonition that hung on the wall next to it:

Keep out of the railroad tunnels

And stay off the tracks

Don't go into the train graveyard

Zhai was caught by the look of dread that settled on her face, which turned ashen. Small beads of perspiration formed in a thin line across her brow.

“What is it, Lily Rose?” he asked. “Are you okay? Is it Master Chin?”

She shook her head as if to dispel whatever thought was troubling her. “No, he's still the same,” she said. “One of my ladies from the missionary society is sitting with him this morning. It's nothing, son. Don't you worry about it.” The old woman's strange mismatched eyes seemed to stare through the tattered, framed map and into other worlds. “You know, my grandfather was a conductor on that railroad. When I was a little girl, we used to play around those tracks, even though we weren't supposed to. I know all you kids do the same. You can learn a lot by exploring those tunnels. Just be careful, you hear?”

“Yes, ma'am. We will.”

Mrs. Burns had already gone back to her files, and Kate was still focused on filling out her form. Lily Rose smiled at Zhai once more, and he held the door open for her as she left the office. In spite of her smile, she still looked worried.

* * *

Nass crossed the lunchroom at Josh's side, a little light-headed. Although he was tired, the feeling didn't come from spending an uncomfortable night on the sofa in Zhai's guest house and it wasn't his concern for Emory, either. What he was feeling was anxiety, which had started when Josh had taken him aside at his locker before school.

“I called Emory's mom this morning,” he'd said. “He's still not awake.” Josh was pale and tense. His eyes were bloodshot and his voice had no expression. Nass thought he looked like he was about to snap. “I know we haven't exactly gotten along lately, but . . . me and the guys are going to Benton after school to see him. You in?”

“Of course,” Nass said.

Josh nodded. He seemed relieved. That, at least, was a good sign. Maybe they could put their differences aside after all. “I'm going to challenge Rick at lunch today,” Josh said. A tiny glimmer of fear surfaced in his eyes, but it disappeared immediately, replaced by icy resolve.

Nass wanted to try to persuade him not to go up against Rick, but the knowing kicked in, telling him that nothing he could say would talk Josh out of it. Instead, he gave him an encouraging slap on the shoulder. “You can take him. Just remember the stuff Raph taught us.”

Josh didn't look convinced, but Nass knew he wasn't going to back down. “Will you go with me?” he asked.

Nass smiled. “You know I will, man. ‘Even unto death,' right?”

And so it happened that ten minutes into the lunch period Josh crossed the room with Nass at his side. Their Flatliner brothers stood near their table, waiting for the summit that was about to take place, ready to charge into the melee if a fight erupted.

Josh's pace was quick and steady as he marched to the head of the Topper table and stopped to look down at Rick, who took another bite of his quesadilla, slowly chewed it and swallowed it before acknowledging Josh's presence.

“Can I help you?” Rick asked at last, mockingly polite.

“Yeah,” Josh said. “You can help me by joining Emory in the hospital in Benton.”

“Oh, and let me guess, you're going to send me there, right?” Rick said, and a few of the Toppers snickered. Nass noticed that only Bran Goheen remained silent.

“That's right,” Josh said. “You and me, after school, down by the tracks.”

Rick's guttural laughter came out in a series of low grunts. “I don't know. The last time I fought someone as pitiful as you, it wasn't much of a challenge.”

Josh rocked forward onto the balls of his feet as if to strike out at Rick, but Nass quickly grabbed his arm.

“You know the Wu-de, Rick,” Josh said through clenched teeth. “This is an official challenge. You don't fight me, your honor is ruined. And believe me, I'll tell everyone in school you were a coward. I'll make posters. I'll put it on the damn morning announcements.”

Rick laughed again. Nass had never seen him so non-confrontational, but he suspected it was only because his passive mockery was pissing Josh off more than a thousand insults could have.

Bran rose to his feet. “Fight me,” he said and then looked at Rick. “You already have the thing with Zhai coming up, Rick. You can't be wasting energy on this.” He turned to Josh again. “I'll fight you.”

Josh was already shaking his head. “You weren't there the night Emory got hurt. Rick was. He's the one I want.”

Rick sneered. “Bran's right. Why should I waste my time beating up a loser like you?”

It happened so fast Nass didn't have a chance to stop him. Josh slapped Rick across the face—hard—and the sound of the blow echoed through the lunchroom like a gunshot. What followed was pure chaos. Rick sprang to his feet as Bran tried to hold him back.

“Rick—no!” Bran shouted. “This isn't the time, man! Not here! Not at school!”

Nass was also trying to pull Josh away as Rick's backup of Toppers rose, getting ready to jump in. He knew from experience that if Principal Innis got into the situation, things would go much worse for the Flatliners than for the Toppers. But only a few seconds later, he heard the voice he'd dreaded.

“Break it up, boys! Down to my office—now!” From the scowl on Innis's round, normally happy face it was clear he was fed up.

It didn't take the knowing to tell him what was in his future, Nass thought as he shuffled out with Josh, Rick, and Bran. He was in for another miserable suspension and his mom was going to be plenty pissed.

As they walked, Rick sidled up to Josh. “Saturday night—the tracks outside the North tunnel,” Rick hissed. “Eight o'clock. You can be my warm-up before I break your buddy Zhai.”

Nass repressed a groan, and the refrain that had rung through his mind so often over the last few months repeated itself once more.

Where is Raphael?

Chapter 12

After school, Dalton walked down the hall
with Maggie and Kate, on the way to Miss Pembrook's history club meeting, and she continued to steal glances at Kate. The cheerful girl seemed so excited about everything and so eager to learn that Dalton's curiosity about her was growing every minute. As they walked, Kate recapped all her favorite parts of the day—which mostly seemed to revolve around various pieces of technology that everyone else took for granted, but that she found amazing.

“And the computer—'tis like a magical typewriting machine!” Kate exclaimed. “And that interweb thing—why, you can go to any library in the world, just like that!” She snapped her fingers. “Who could imagine such a thing?”

“Come on, Kate,” Dalton said, amused. “You can't tell me they don't have computers in Ireland.”

“Well, perhaps they do,” Kate replied quietly, suddenly subdued. “But I'd never seen one up close before today.” Kate was in Dalton's computer class, and she'd been completely baffled when she sat down in front of her monitor. Dalton had to show her everything, starting with how to turn it on and how to use the keyboard. When Kate had asked where the paper was rolled in for the typing, Dalton had pointed to the other side of the room and explained that when the document was finished, it would come out of the printer. When Dalton had shown her how to look things up on the Internet, Kate was ecstatic. Dalton couldn't believe how quickly she learned. The first search term Kate typed in was,
Ireland in the early 20th century
.

Puzzled, Dalton was still looking dubiously at her, but they had reached their destination. They all filed into Miss Pembrook's room to find her sitting on her desk with a coffee cup in her hand. Mr. Brighton was with her, sitting at one of the student desks.

“Hi, Miss Pembrook. Hi, Mr. Brighton,” they all said, not exactly in unison. Dalton noticed that the teachers seemed close and maybe a little embarrassed, like they were engaged in some kind of intimate conversation.

“Hi, guys,” Mr. Brighton said, quickly standing and moving away from Miss Pembrook, who had a slight blush on her cheeks. The idea that her two favorite teachers might have a secret romance going on made Dalton smile.

“And what are you ladies up to?” Miss Pembrook asked. “Oh yeah, shoot. History club—I completely forgot.” Yes, Dalton thought. She was definitely blushing and a little flustered as she turned to Mr. Brighton and told him, “Sorry, I'll have to take a rain check. Next week?”

“Sure.” He raised his coffee cup to the girls. “You ladies enjoy your meeting,” he said and left quickly, careful not to look at Miss Pembrook again.

“Ooh, girl,” Dalton teased Miss Pembrook when he was out of earshot. “We messed up your date!”

“It wasn't a date,” the teacher said hastily. “It was just . . . we were just . . .”

“Um-
humm
,” Dalton said smugly.

“Relax,” Maggie added. “We love Mr. Brighton. We are
so
in favor of you hooking up with him.”

“Okay, guys,” Miss Pembrook said, joining in their laughter. “I can tell when I've been outed—but don't spread it around, all right?”

Dalton noticed that Kate hadn't been paying attention to their banter. Instead she was standing by the door, staring at a corkboard collage that Miss Pembrook had made. Dalton went over to see what had captured her attention. Beneath the collage was a caption:
The mystery of the 3 churches.
It consisted of a map of the world, and on it were pinned the photos of the three mysterious, identical churches that Miss Pembrook had shown Dalton and Aimee in a previous history club meeting. The location of each church was pinned on the map. There was one in China, one in Israel, and of course, Middleburg United. Under the caption, in cutout construction-paper letters, Miss Pembrook had stapled the words:
Who built them and why?

“Weird, huh?” Dalton said to Kate.

Kate continued staring at it, as if entranced. “What about the fourth church?” she asked.

Miss Pembrook looked at her, surprised. “There's another one?” she asked, and Dalton heard her quick footstep as she and Maggie came up behind them. Slowly, Kate reached out and touched the picture of the church in Israel.

“Back home, in Ballymore,” she said, her voice quiet with wonder. “There's a church just like this.”

* * *

Rick was sitting in the Banfield's living room, going into hour two of getting chewed out when the doorbell rang. He should have expected his dad to be pissed. First Rick had made it known in no uncertain terms that he didn't approve of the upcoming wedding, and then he'd gotten himself suspended. Worse, because of the trouble with Josh, Rick was barred from participating in the next basketball game. It was school policy that players who'd been suspended had to sit out one game, and his dad was so angry that he didn't even try to get Rick off the hook as he usually did. He'd just signed the suspension papers—without a word—and marched Rick out of the principal's office.

Well, Rick was equally pissed. It seemed to make no difference to his dad that the dumb-ass Flats punk Josh had attacked
him
. Jack was lecturing him about the upcoming wedding too—and as for that crap, Rick felt he was doing everyone a favor by telling them that he couldn't live with Raphael. Wouldn't it be worse if his dad's new stepson reappeared and moved into the house, and Rick had to kill him? By warning them ahead of time, Rick was saving everyone a lot of trouble. But did he get any credit for it? No. All he got was an endless, meaningless lecture followed by the promise that if he didn't shape up, Jack was going to break his will the way a trainer breaks a horse.

Rick could think of a few things he'd like to break, starting with the finger his dad kept jabbing at him. Lately, thoughts of violence came to him more and more, simmering strong and hot just beneath the surface of his rigid self-control—a control that was increasingly difficult to maintain. His soul longed for release, and he stared at his father now with an anger and contempt that was dangerously close to hatred.

Then, the doorbell rang.

“You'd better make damn sure you're still in that chair when I get back,” his dad said ominously, then left the room.

* * *

Jack opened the front door and found Aimee and Orias on the stoop. He greeted Orias with a hearty handshake.

“Thanks for giving Aimee a ride home from school, Orias. I'm sorry to deprive you of her company, but I need her here to help with wedding planning. I'm sure you undersand.”

“Of course,” Orias said. Aimee started to protest but Orias leaned close to her.

“It's only for a few days,” he said. He bent to her and quickly kissed her cheek. “Be a good girl. Listen to your father and do as he asks. No slips, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Promise me?” Orias asked, and she nodded. “Good. I'll see you soon. Why don't you head inside? I need to have a word with Jack.”

“Okay.” Aimee shrugged and entered the house.

Jack watched her go, amazed at how docile she was when she was with Orias. When she was out of earshot, he said to Orias, “You've worked a miracle with her. You've helped her more than they ever did at that . . . that boarding school. What's your secret?”

Jack didn't want to come right out and ask Orias if he was sleeping with his daughter because if he got the wrong answer he'd have to slug him—and that wouldn't be good for business.

“It's no secret,” Orias said. “It's just a matter of sympathy, understanding, and some herbal tea to help her relax. Which reminds me—” He reached into his coat pocket and took out a small glass bottle with a silver top. “Put this in her tea or juice a couple of times a day and you'll have no problems with her—but just a drop.”

Jack eyed it suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Don't worry. I told you—it's an herbal remedy for nerves. I don't believe in drugs. This is perfectly natural—not harmful like that stuff they were giving her at Mountain High Academy.” He smiled at Jack's surprise. “Yes—she told me all about her treatment there. Pills and injections and straitjackets. Barbaric if you ask me. This is completely homeopathic and harmless. Have it analyzed if you don't trust me.”

“Not necessary,” Jack said. “You say it's natural?” Orias nodded. “Does she know you're giving it to her?”

“No,” Orias said. “I saw no reason to trouble her with that information. But if you prefer having the old Aimee back—” he started to put the bottle away, but Jack reached out and took it.

“No,” he said quickly. “I would not prefer that. Twice a day, you said? Just one drop?”

“Yes.”

“All right then.” Jack pocketed the vial.

“One more thing,” Orias said. “I heard Rick got suspended for a couple of days. I thought he might like to use the time to make some money.”

Jack grinned. “A job might be good for him right now. Come on in and ask him yourself.”

* * *

Rick looked up, scowling as his dad returned with a fake smile on his face and Orias at his side. “Well, it's your lucky day,” Jack told Rick as he and his guest sat down. “You want to tell him?” he asked Orias.

“I have a small job I need done, Rick,” Orias said. “I think you're just the man for it.”

Rick looked at Orias. True, he liked and admired the guy, and he was grateful to him. Rick didn't know how he'd done it, but he'd somehow reformed Aimee. In the time they'd been dating, his sister had gone from a total embarrassment to a tame little mouse who did as she was told. There was also the fact that Orias had healed Rick's broken arm and saved his football season. The problem was, Rick remembered how Orias had healed him—the weird chanting, the levitation, the hundreds of invisible hands groping him, the chalky powder in his mouth that had turned into a hideous rat that he'd vomited out. The strange power Orias possessed had made Rick respect him—but he didn't trust him.

“What kind of job?” Rick asked.

“I need you to help me out with something. A personal assistant sort of thing. We'll have to take a little business trip.” Then Orias turned to Jack. “But I promise—I'll have him back for your wedding on Saturday.”

“Where do I have to go?” Rick asked, skeptical.

His father looked at him with contempt. “You're asking a lot of questions of someone who's trying to do you a favor, don't you think? Instead of sitting around the house getting bawled out by me, wouldn't you rather be helping a friend and making a little cash?”

The answer his dad was looking for was clear, but Rick still wasn't ready to give in. “How much cash?” he asked sullenly.

“You help me out, Rick, and I'll pay you a thousand dollars,” Orias said.

He looked at Rick, and for a moment his focus was so intense that Rick felt like there was no one in the room except the two of them. Rick suddenly wondered why he'd been so hesitant to accept Orias's offer. How bad could it be? What was he afraid of?

“What do you say, Rick?” Orias's voice was soft, insistent. “You want to help me out?”

“Okay,” Rick said. “Why not?”

Rick and Orias were halfway down the front walk when Rick stopped short. Moments before, he'd felt a strong urge to get out of the house and away from his father's wrath. But out here in the chill wind, beneath the bleached out, empty blue sky, his fear suddenly returned.

“Wait,” Rick said. “Before we go any further, you gotta tell me what we're going to do.”

Orias turned to look at him. “That's fair, I guess. We're going to your girlfriend's house. I want to have a look at those tapestries her mother weaves.”

“Why?” Rick said. “I've seen them. They're bizarre. And Maggie's mom is a head case.”

Orias smiled indulgently as if humoring a small, ignorant child. “Not at all,” he said. “Maggie's mother happens to be a very powerful woman.”

“Powerful?” Rick scoffed. “You gotta be kidding. She's so powerful she hardly ever leaves her house? Her husband ditched her because she's wacko. She has no connections, and she doesn't own anything except that house. How exactly is she powerful?”

“Maybe you'll find out. Maggie could be a problem, though. She doesn't seem to care for my company.”

“Don't worry about Maggie,” Rick said, resentment rising in him again like bitter bile. “She's cheerleading at the basketball game.” It was a home game against Benton, and both he and Bran were missing it, thanks to those Flats rats.

“Good,” said Orias. “Now we just need a reason for going over there. Any ideas?”

“Leave it to me,” Rick said. He took out his cell phone and dialed Maggie's home number. “Hey, Mrs. A,” he said, his tone friendly and inviting. “How you doing?” He waited for her answer and then said, “Great. Listen, is it okay if I come by and pick up some stuff Maggie said we could have? It's for the team's rummage sale to raise money for new uniforms. She said there's some old tires and a bunch of tools that you guys never use, out in the garage.” Another pause. “Thanks. That'd be great.”