Van Bender and the Burning Emblems (The Van Bender Archives #1) (16 page)

Kurt ambled around the bed, to the couch in front of the TV, and plopped himself down. As usual, he wore grungy denim and a blue T-shirt. His shaggy brown hair almost covered his eyes. He flipped his head, so he could look over his shoulder at me.

“We’ve been in here a few times,” he said. “Sandra has some hacking skills that would surprise you. We never thought it was worth the risk of being caught. Tonight, though, we couldn’t resist.”

Sandra pulled herself away from me. “Tell us everything. What has gone on?”

I took a step back and sat down on the edge of my bed. Thinking back through the entire night, I reeled at what had gone on. I didn’t know where to start. And on top of it all, Sandra had snuck into my room and embraced me. She wore dark blue denim pants with sparkly designs on the back pockets, and a white shirt beneath a blouse with blue and green flower designs. Big hoop earrings showed through her dark hair, which she had down so that it nearly reached her waist.

She’d hugged me.

I’d spent half the night with Marti Walker.

I could hear my mom now, lecturing me that girls weren’t allowed in my bedroom. As if I would do anything to make her worry.

“Nick Savage,” I said, not taking my eyes from her.

“Nick
Savage
?” Kurt said.

“Shh!” Sandra said, glaring at the door. “You want us to get caught?”

“Tell us
everything
,” Kurt said.

So I did. Well, not everything. Just the general things, figuring I could come back to the details later.

Until I heard a knock at the door.

“Richie.”

Dad. My heart leaped into my throat.

“Richie, we need to talk.”

Kurt and Sandra stiffened—but only for an instant. She bolted for the closet. He dove for the space under my bed. In a moment, they’d disappeared.

“Uh, can’t it wait until morning?” I said.

“Can I come in?”

I looked around, not seeing any evidence of Kurt or Sandra. She’d shut the door. He was gone. Except on the floor by the closet sat the cloth bag that Nick had given me. I stood and started toward it, to grab it.

Dad opened the door. Holding the handle, he leaned in, his face imploring.

“Can we talk for just a minute?”

I halted, unmoving, looking at him, wondering if I should try to get the bag or if he would even notice it. Clearly, I should have locked the door. I sure would next time.

“Uh, sure Dad. Sure thing. But only one minute. The clock’s ticking. I’ve got to go to sleep, you know. It’s late.”

At that point, if I got the bag he would see and wonder what it was. It was probably best to draw his attention away from it.

I moved around the bed toward the couch as he came in and shut the door behind him. I sat down and grabbed the remote. My hands trembled as I fiddled with it. At the edge of my vision, Kurt scooted deeper under the bed. Why hadn’t he gone for the closet? The idiot.

“You haven’t even changed your clothes,” Dad said.

He sat down next to me. Too close. I shrugged and moved over, so our arms didn’t touch.

“Eh, you know. I still smell like smoke from the pyrotechnics at the concert. Kind of nice. I thought I’d sleep in it.”

“Let’s cut to the chase,” he said. “You have questions.”

“One or two.”

He fell silent. I made a show of glancing at him, but really looked under the bed. I could see one of Kurt’s dark brown Sketchers. I looked away and focused on the remote, again.

“Look,” Dad said. “Your mother and I haven’t yet agreed on what we should tell you.”

“Thanks a lot. That’s great. Why’d you even come in here?”

“Because we did agree that you need some satisfaction. So, I’m going to answer one question for you tonight.”

I grunted. “Oh, that’s very generous. One question? Really?”

He held up a hand and shook his head. “Any one question. Then your mother and I will have a chance to talk more about this, and later we’ll determine what we’ll tell you, and what we won’t.”

“I guess you haven’t had too long to think it over, have you? Only fifteen years, or something.”

“It’s the best compromise she and I could come up with.”

I glared at him. “You would tell me everything if you could, wouldn’t you?”

He shrugged. “Well... “

“Why do you defend her? I can tell this is all her fault. Every last bit of it.”

“Take it easy. She’s trying to do what she thinks is best for you in a hard situation.”

“What’s best for me is that I have all of the information I deserve. Not one stupid question’s worth.”

The problem was, I had no idea what question to ask. Maybe if I had a little help, I could come up with something really good. Maybe Sandra and Kurt could help me.

I still couldn’t believe that they’d broken into my room. How many times could they have done that, and not? It sure seemed like arranging the meeting with Nick would have been a good time to do it.

The iPad. They’d given me an iPad for my last birthday and hidden it under the couch. They’d broken into my room and put the iPad there.

Dad shrugged and continued our conversation. “There’s a certain amount of logic to her view. It’s not like I’m some weak-minded idiot who does whatever she says.”

“And what is that logic?” For an instant I pictured myself like some hero in a fairytale, tricking a leprechaun into giving me one extra wish. Or, in my case, question.

Dad raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, like he knew exactly what game I’d started. But he didn’t say anything. He let me play it.

“There’s some history with Intersoc. It’s complicated, but it’s made it impossible for her to go there, and for me to be with her. It’s the reason she and I separated years ago.”

“And it was your idea? You sacrificed our family for it?”

He winced. “Your mother and I agreed that it would only be for a short time. It’s been longer than we expected.”

“And I bet it involves Nick Savage.”

He shrugged and nodded. “Enough games. Ask me your one question.”

I stood, dropped the remote onto the couch, and went to the window. On the narrow wall between the windows, I pushed the button that opened a bank of blinds, and tried to look out. But in the window, I only saw my reflection, Dad looking at me patiently, and Kurt’s foot under the bed.

“Richie, it’s a dangerous world, with a lot of crazy people. And it’s only getting more dangerous. People are only getting crazier. Everything we’ve done—we’ve done to protect you.”

Did parents say things like that to make you feel guilty? Because that’s sure what happened right then. It just made me feel bad for everything I’d done. And that only made me angrier. It only made me want to do it again.

I looked at him in the window’s reflection.

“Mind-erasing,” I said. “How many times have you guys erased my mind, and what did you erase?”

Dad let out a long, slow breath. “You would ask that question.”

It took a lot of effort not to look at him. They’d erased my memories. Tampered with my head.

“Half a dozen times, at least,” Dad said. “Usually encounters with people who wanted to teach you about brink. Some of them rock stars.”

“When was the last time?” I said, hoping he would humor me with more answers.

He grunted. “Moab. Fiery Furnace. Bobby Fretboard.”

I rounded on him. Anger rose in my cheeks, and I couldn’t help but clench my fists. He’d nearly crossed all the way to me, and reached his hands out to grab my shoulders. I didn’t let him. Instead I stepped away, shaking my head.

“So I did meet him! I didn’t fall and hit my head!”

“You met him, all right. But your mom caught you meeting him, neutralized him, and erased your memory.”

“Did she kill him?”

Dad laughed. “No, she didn’t kill him. We just turned him over to SOaP.”

Anger seethed through my head. It felt like my skin was on fire. They’d erased my memories.

Rude. Just rude.

I was getting madder every second, with every word he said. Our conversation needed to end or I would say too much and get myself in trouble. Uh, more trouble.

“I’ve asked my question. Will you get out, now?”

He gave me a long, ponderous look, and nodded once. “Richie, don’t do anything rash. We’ll get through this. I’ll teach you everything you need to know. In time, you’ll have all the freedom you want. I promise. Just trust me.”

“Sounds like a great idea.”

He sighed, shook his head, and left the room.

Before Sandra or Kurt could emerge from their hiding places, I’d already crossed the room and grabbed the bag that Nick had given me.

Chapter 30: I give rebellion a chance

I really thought he was crazy. 100 percent loco.

-Sandra Montoya

As I dumped the contents of the bag into my lap, I sat on my bed with Sandra on one side and Kurt on the other.

The bag contained a tube—like a sample toothpaste tube—a plain lighter, a cube of polished silver, and a folded note with my name written on the outside.

“I can’t believe all of this,” Sandra said. “If I hadn’t heard your dad talking about it, I’d have thought you’d gone crazy.”

The note, from Nick, encouraged me to trust him and said that everyone else was wrong about him. It indicated that the tube contained brink, and that I should contact him with the spell he’d diagrammed in the note. It looked like the same emblem Marti had used to make her video call to Beulah at Intersoc. He would give me details on how to get the multiplier from Intersoc.

I unscrewed the tube’s lid. A purple glow shone from the top. It smelled like cinnamon.

“Are you going to cast a spell?” Kurt said.

“I want to see it work,” Sandra said.

“I’m just so ticked off at my parents,” I said. “They’ve kept me sequestered from everyone—even you guys—without giving me any information. They’ve erased my memory.”

“I can’t believe,” Kurt said, “that you actually did meet Bobby Fretboard.”

“And you really can’t remember any of it?” Sandra said.

I shook my head. “They cleaned it out of my head. And now they want to keep more information away from me. Even despite everything I’ve seen. I’m just so pissed
off
.”

“I don’t blame you,” Sandra said. “They’ve been cruel.”

“For all we know,” Kurt said, “they could erase your memory again.”

I stared at him, stunned. It was true. They could erase my memory again. They could make me forget everything.

I couldn’t let them do that.

“What are you going to do?” Kurt said.

Of everyone I’d met that night, Marti seemed like the only person I could reasonably talk with. But if I contacted her, how much bodily harm would she do to me?

“I think,” I said, “I’m going to contact Marti Walker.”

Sandra’s head snapped toward me. “What?”

“No way!” Kurt said. “Not her!”

“Why her?” Sandra said.

I swallowed hard. “I think she’s the only one I can trust.”

She raised her eyebrows. “It has nothing to do with the fact that she’s totally hot? Or that she’s a huge star?”

“No! And no!”

She swallowed hard and licked her lips. Her face softened. She nodded. Her bout of jealousy surprised me.

Please,” Kurt said, “not Marti Walker.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t stand her. Nothing about her. Not her music, not her cover art. Not her face.”

I gave him a frown. “You’re freaking me out.”

He shrugged. “She freaks me out. Everyone loves her so much, and I don’t get it.”

I’d known he didn’t like her, but really? “She’s about the only one I think I can trust right now—besides you guys. So you’re probably going to have to put up with her for a few minutes.”

He heaved an enormous sigh and looked to the ceiling. “I’ll try to be strong. Now, can we use some brink?”

I nodded. “Let’s do this thing.”

Chapter 31: My first emblem

He cast that first spell like a pro, like he’d been practicing it for years. He just has natural talent. At everything. Sometimes I can’t stand it.

-Kurt Strand

Kurt, Sandra, and I examined Nick’s instructions on the spell, but my friends weren’t much help since they’d never even seen a spell. Eventually, satisfied I could do it, despite Dad’s warnings, I squeezed some brink out onto the palm of my right hand. It felt like it had sat in a warmer for a little while.

“That blows my mind,” Kurt said.

I grinned. Standing at the foot of my bed, facing the door, I closed the palm of my hand over the brink, careful not to get any on my fingers, then raised my hand before me. My heart pounded. What if I cast the spell wrong?

I couldn’t worry about that. I had to do this. Before my parents erased my memory again.

I opened my hand and drew an oval in the air. As the brink slid off my hand and into the air, chills ran through my body, as if the smeared brink pulled warmth from my muscles and bones. Cinnamon filled my nose. Hopefully the smell wouldn’t sneak under my door to my parents. Or, if it did, Mom would think her candle was on. Maybe it was. I drew the squiggly line exactly as Nick had drawn it in the note, and found I had a little brink left over.

Sandra sniffed. “Cinnamon?”

“Boom!” Kurt said. He stood next to me, jaw gaping, shaking his head. “My head is blown! Clean off!”

I looked around. What to do with the excess brink? I sure couldn’t put it back in the tube. It made better sense to use a vial—you could scrape your left over brink back in. With no other choice, I closed the palm of my hand. Maybe Marti could tell me what to do with it.

I readied the lighter at the bottom of the oval, where the squiggly line touched it, and took several deep breaths.

This was it. It was the tipping point. I was going to actively and purposefully disobey Mom and Dad.

“You sure you want to do this?” Sandra said.

Her dark eyes felt like darts into my head, so sharp and piercing. She seemed to understand my predicament perfectly. Mom had done so much for me. She’d let me become a rock star. She’d stayed by my side every hour of every day during the cancer. We’d probably spent more time together than any two people should. All of it because she loved me and wanted to protect me.