The Power Potion (11 page)

No “
Excelente picante!
You’re home!”

No “I’m out here,
señor
! Having a sizzly
siesta
.”

Just quiet.

Sad, lonely quiet.

Dave parked his bike, dumped his backpack, and heaved a sigh. It had been a day even rougher than most. This was due, in part, to the sneers and jeers (and kitty-cat jokes) made by Lily and her sassy, saucy friends. But it was also because Dave now realized that his old friends had somehow drifted away. Regrouped. Left the kid with the strange habit of talking to himself behind.

Not that Dave was actually talking to
himself
. He’d been talking to Sticky.

Worrying about the powerband.

Obsessing over Damien Black.

But today, as he’d made a real effort to reconnect with some old friends, he’d discovered that
they weren’t interested in reconnecting with him. Over the past few months, he’d become known as a dorky dude with spastic behaviors.

Someone to avoid.

So it was with a heavy heart that Dave returned home, and finding that Sticky had gone away (just as he’d commanded) made him even sadder.

When the telephone rang, Dave almost didn’t answer it.

Why bother?

It was probably his mother or father wanting him to do some errand.

But the phone continued to ring, and when Dave at last checked caller ID, he was puzzled.

The readout was blank.

Finally he punched the ON button and said a tentative “Hello?”

“Señor!
Is it you?”

Dave did some rapid-fire blinking. “Sticky?”

“Híjole!
It
is
you!”

“You’re…You know how to use a phone?”

“It isn’t easy….”

This, as you know, was an understatement. Sticky now had the funkydoodle phone on its side and was speaking into the ivory horn, then turning his head to hear what was snap-crackle-popping out of the cheesy speaker.

“Where are you?” Dave asked.

“Ay-ay-ay. You don’t want to know. But I have good news!”

“You’re at that madman’s mansion, aren’t you?” Dave said, thinking way ahead of any possible good news.

“
Sí, señor
, but that’s the bad news.”

“Are you hurt? Why did you go there?”

“I’m fine,
señor
. Although I did almost get munchy-crunched by big, ugly spiders.”

“What?”

“Never mind. The bad news is I’m trapped.”

“Trapped? Did Damien catch you? Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“I’m in his secret office,
señor
, but he doesn’t know it. I sneaky-toed up the dragon chimney—”

“Wait. The dragon has a chimney?”

“
Sí, señor
. It’s new. It goes up to a room next to a hall with spidery clouds—”

“Spidery clouds?” Dave racked his brains. “You mean cobwebs?”

“
Sí!
That’s what you call them. You go by a room with big white bones, and one with big, pointy knives on sticks, and one with big-handed candleholders, and then up some stairs…. They’re booby-trapped, though, so you have to
use Gecko Power and go along the wall.” Sticky was quiet for a split second, then said, “Wear the powerband, okay,
señor
? We’re going to need it to help the potion man.”

“Wait. What’s he got to do with this?”

Sticky made a little clicking sound. “That evil
hombre
thinks he’s a dirty double-crosser.”

Dave gasped. “Because of the potion?”

“
Sí, señor
. I think so.”

Dave stood in his kitchen, stunned. Why hadn’t he thought this might happen? “This is all my fault!” he cried.

“It’s my fault, too,
señor
. I’m sorry.”

“Do you know what Damien’s going to do?”

“No,
señor
, but it has something to do with Pablo and Angelo. And he took two
pistolas
.”

“Guns?”

“
Sí
. But they’re not six-shooters.” Sticky tried to shake off the memory of having seen them in action before. “They’re only one-shooters.”

“They’re still guns!”

“But I have something that will help us stop him. You just have to get me out of here!”

Dave was thinking too fast to really hear what Sticky was saying. So instead of asking what Sticky had that would help them, he said, “But how am I ever going to find you? That place is crazy, and there are booby traps everywhere! And I can’t get in through the Komodo dragon den—that monster will rip me to shreds!”

“Hmm,” Sticky said, and Dave could practically see him tapping his little gecko chin. “That
loco lobo
is gone, so just picture where the dragon cave is and climb in a window above it.”

“But…I don’t even know if I know where it is! It was all twists and turns when we went down before.”

“Oh, you can do it,
señor
. And once you’re inside, just walk around until you find the spider room.”

“The spider room?”

“
Sí, señor
. It has a big glass cage with giant, hairy spiders in it.”

“Oh, great,” Dave said (his voice sounding rather squeaky).

“When you’re in the spider room, push on the bookcase. It spins like a merry-go-round. I’m in the secret room on the other side.”

“But…what if I can’t find it?”

“Then I’ll have to find some other way to give you the Buzzy Bee.”

“The Buzzy…? You found it? You’ve got Flying?”

“
Sí, señor
. And it was pretty hairy-scary.”

Dave understood immediately why Sticky had gone to the mansion. And he knew from experience that Sticky had risked life and limb to do this for him. “Aw, Sticky…”

“Just
ándale
, okay,
hombre
? Put on the powerband and let’s go help the potion man.”

A strange feeling came over Dave.

One of strength.

Determination.

Sticky
was
his friend.

From now on, nothing was going to change that.

Dave nodded. “Hold on, little buddy. I’m on my way.”

Damien Black’s mansion was so devilishly devised, so curiously convoluted, so horribly hodge-podged that it was, in fact, highly unlikely that Dave would ever find Sticky.

Except for one small detail.

A trail.

Now, this trail was not made of bread crumbs.

Oh no.

It was a trail of hairy, scary spiders fleeing the mansion through an opening in a second-story window.

“Holy smokes!” Dave gasped when he noticed the spiders. “He wasn’t joking!”

Dave was in his Gecko getup—sunglasses, a
ball cap (a bandanna at the ready), a plain black T-shirt, and jeans. Under his shirtsleeve, the Wall-Walker ingot was clicked inside the powerband.

Dave watched the spiders a moment, then scaled the wall, avoiding the hairy beasts as he climbed in through the open window.

Once inside, Dave simply moved against the stream of tarantulas. (It was a sparse stream, but speedy. And each time Dave thought he had run out of mad-dashing spiders, another one appeared, racing along the cobwebby corridor to
catch up to the spider that had gotten away before it.)

“The bone room!” Dave laughed when he came upon it. “I found the bone room!”

(Never mind that there were real, fully formed skeletons on stands—Dave was just happy to be on the right path.)

From there, it was easy. He passed by the spear room and the creepy candelabra room. He remembered to take the wall, bypassing the booby-trapped stairs, and then he hurried down the dark and dingy (and now also creepy-crawly) corridor until at last he reached the spider room.

“Sticky!” he cried as he pushed through the revolving bookcase.

Sticky quickly slapped down the disconnect lever on the funkydoodle phone.
“Señor!”

Despite how happy Dave was to see Sticky (and vice versa), he noticed that there was something fishy about Sticky’s reaction.

“What
is
that?” Dave asked, pointing to the funkydoodle phone.

“Uh…it’s that evil
hombre
’s ring-a-ling?”

Dave eyed him suspiciously. “Why do you look so guilty?”

Sticky’s eyes shifted to the left.

They shifted to the right.

Suddenly
Dave’s
eyes popped wide. “You were making crank calls?”

Sticky gave a little gecko shrug. “I was bored,
señor
.”

But then, lickety-split, the naughty lizard zippy-toed to a hiding place behind the desk and
produced the Flying ingot. “But now that you’re here, we can use this!”

Dave looked at the glowing ingot as it rested in his hand.

His heart skipped a beat (or, really, several).

His breathing went very shallow.

Like Wall-Walker, the ingot had strange symbols all around it, but in the center of this one was a bumblebee in flight.

Dave could barely believe it.

He was going to
fly
.

“How did you know where to find it?” Dave asked, his voice but a whisper.

“Oh. Well.
Señor
. That is quite a story.”

And so, in great (and sometimes exaggerated) detail, Sticky proceeded to tell him the hairy, scary tale of what he’d been through. When he was all done, he said, “But it was worth it, eh,
señor
? Look at you!”

It was true. Dave had never looked happier.

“So,” Sticky said, “are you ready to try it?”

Dave nodded. Slowly at first, and then with growing determination.

After all, they had work to do. And knowing Damien Black, he could be sure of one thing.

There was no time to lose.

It was unfortunate for Damien Black that his cunning, clever, and crafty brain had been concentrating wholly and solely on revenge. Had he simply picked up his funkydoodle phone and told Yanko Purran that the potion hadn’t worked, the man would surely have brewed him another batch.

Or returned the cash.

The matter would have been resolved quite easily. (And, come to think of it,
solved
as well. Although a money-back guarantee had not been discussed, money-back guarantees usually require the return of unused portions.)

(Or, in this case,
potions
.)

Yanko would have recognized right away that there’d been some sort of switcheroo.

Which then would have cascaded into trouble for Roadrunner Express.

Which then would have led Damien Black within striking distance of one Dave Sanchez.

Instead, Damien got mad and spent all his energies devising a diabolical way to get even.

(With interest, of course.)

It was also unfortunate for Damien Black that he had an irrational fear of curses. Just the thought of another gypsy curse gave him the itchy-yitchy-yah-yahs.

Now, it’s a well-known fact that the power of the mind can be either a great healing force or, as in the case of a so-called curse, a self-destructive one. The worried mind will find a way to turn angry words into reality.

Suddenly you become clumsy.

Or sleepless.