Awoken (8 page)

“I think I understand,” Michael said. “That thing in your hand is called a waystone, Lina. The dollmen left the jewel with me. I guess he figures you stole it.”

“I didn’t steal anything,” said Lina. “I found the necklace beside the fountain. Tell the little freak I never wanted his stupid waystone. I just want it out of my hand.”

The dollman leapt onto the bedpost, balancing on the smooth wooden ball while still keeping his alien gaze on Lina. “May this one kill the thief, Awoken?”

A low growl rumbled from Lina’s throat, and Michael quickly placed himself between the dollman and the girl. “Whoa. Everybody just chill out for a second. Lina didn’t steal the waystone. I lost it. Plus, the Wiffles have a rule about killing people in the house. So keep your claws to yourself.”

The dollman bowed to him. “As the Awoken commands. This one will not kill the thief.”

“Whatever,” said Michael. He glared at Lina. “And you need to calm down. Believe me, it’s a good thing for us this little guy showed up.”

Lina looked less than convinced. “Why?”

Michael slipped his backpack over his shoulders.

“You need that rock out of your hand. I need the waystone to help me control the stonesong. The dollmen are probably the only ones who can help either of us.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Not really,” said Michael. “Listen, ah… buddy,” he said to the dollman, “the Ven or some other really bad dudes are probably on their way here. So, we need the waystone out of Lina’s hand, like yesterday.”

The dollman cocked his head. “The Awoken needs the waystone to control the stonesong. The thief must release the waystone to him. The Ven are near.”

Lina clenched her fists. “Well, that’s just brilliant. If I could take this thing out, I would have done it already. Or does this runt think I normally break into boys’ bedrooms at night?”

Michael rolled his eyes at her. “Will you be quiet and let me handle this?”

“He’s not making any sense, Mike. I need to find out how to get this rock out of my hand.”

“I know, but you’re not helping.”

“The thief must release the waystone, Awoken,” the dollman said. “The Ven are near. The People—”

“Must flee,” Michael finished. “I feel you, bro. Now, how do we get the waystone out of Lina’s hand? Aside from me letting you kill her, I mean.”

The dollman’s forehead wrinkled as he appeared to consider the question. “The Awoken wishes to retrieve the waystone without harm to the thief?”

“Exactly. How do we get the waystone out without hurting her?”

“The thief is bloodbound to the earth and bone, Awoken,” the dollman said. “Only the elders of the People can unbind the stone from the thief’s flesh. If you would not harm the thief, we must go to them, in the city of the People.”

“I can’t go to some secret city,” Lina said. “For God’s sake, I’m supposed to be going to dance camp. Do you have any idea what kind of trouble I’m going to get in if I ditch that? No. I need this thing out of my hand tonight. There has to be something I can do.”

“She’s right,” Michael said. “I need to get out of here, but that doesn’t mean I want to go looking for a dollman city. Isn’t there another way?”

The dollman gave a glassy smile. “We can kill the thief and take back the waystone. Shall this one kill the thief, Awoken?”

“Let’s go, you bald monkey,” Lina lunged for the little man.

The dollman sprang from the bedpost to the dresser, knocking over a lamp as he landed. The lamp struck the floor and shattered, sending bits of glass and porcelain in all directions.

Running footsteps sounded in the hall outside his room. “Michael?” Barbara’s muffled call was alarmed. “Michael, are you all right?”

Everyone froze.

Michael broke from the paralysis first. “I’m okay,” he called back, but the footsteps grew louder. “Hide,” he hissed. “I’ll try to stall her.”

Michael sprang for the door as it swung open.

“What’s going on in here?” asked Barbara. She glanced over Michael’s shoulder and her hands leapt to her mouth. “Good heavens!”

Michael winced. This day just got better and better. “Please don’t freak out, Mrs. Wiffle. I can explain.”

Barbara’s hands dropped from her mouth to her ample hips. “I should hope so. What have you done to your room?”

“My…my room?” Michael turned. His bedroom was empty. Lina and the dollman had disappeared.

Barbara stomped past him toward his dresser. Standing over the rumpled sheets and broken lamp, she tapped her foot expectantly. “Just look at this mess. What in the world were you doing in here?” She frowned. “And why are you wearing your backpack?”

“I was…I was…” He fumbled for a believable excuse, but his mind was a blank until he spotted his Morbius comics next to the nightstand. “I was setting up a tent.”

“A tent?” Barbara pushed at the sheets with her toe. “You were trying to build a tent with your sheets?”

“Sure. It’s like camping, only indoors. I used to do this all the time at my old foster home.” A stream of crumbled plaster fell onto his cheek. Brushing it away, he glanced up.

Side by side, Lina and the dollman clung from the ceiling above him like human spiders.

“No freaking way!”

Barbara looked up from the messy floor. “What?”

Michael jerked his gaze from the ceiling. “I mean, uh…no freaking way should I leave my room like this. I’d better clean that up right now.”

Barbara clucked her tongue and smiled. “I’ll help you,” she said. “But next time you’re camping in your room, try to be more careful.”

“I’ll clean up myself, Mrs. Wiffle.” Taking her by the arm, Michael ushered her to the door. “I’m the one who broke the lamp.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” Barbara sounded uncertain, but didn’t resist as he pushed her into the hall. “Just make certain you pick up all the glass. You wouldn’t want to cut your foot.”

“No problem, Mrs. Wiffle. I’ll get all the glass.”

“Barbara, dear.”

“No problem, Mrs. Barbara,” he said hastily. He started to shut the door, but Barbara held it open. “Is that plaster on the floor?”

Michael’s heart jumped. “No. I don’t think so.”

“I think it is.” Barbara squinted at the white powder on the floor. “Now, where did that come from?” Her gaze began to lift toward the ceiling.

The doorbell rang.

“There’s someone at the door!” Karl called from downstairs.

Barbara rolled her eyes. “Would it kill him to get up and answer the door himself?”

“Barb!”

“I’m coming, you old goat,” she muttered. “I had better get that before Karl gives himself an aneurism. Make sure you clean up all the glass, dear.”

Saved by the bell, literally
.

“No problem, Mrs. Wiffle.”

Barbara nodded and started down the hall, and he shut the door.

Lina and the dollman dropped to the floor as gracefully as cats. Above them, deep finger holes marked where they had dug into the plaster to maintain their precarious grip, where they’d clung, using only the strength of their arms to support the weight of their entire bodies as they clung to the ceiling.

“That was close,” Lina said.

“No kidding,” Michael said. “How did you do that?”

Before Lina could answer, the dollman seized Michael’s pants leg and, with an incredible display of strength, began dragging him toward the window.

“Hey!” Michael struggled to keep his balance, hopping on one leg behind the dollman. “Knock it off.”

“We must flee, Awoken,” the dollman said. “The Ven are near. This one will show you the way.”

“Don’t blow a blood vessel, Sméagol,” Michael said. The dollman didn’t look much like the pathetic ring-obsessed creature from
Lord of the Rings
, but he certainly seemed as single-minded. “I’m on my way out already. So let go of my leg.”

The dollman released him. “The People flee?”

Michael nodded as he brushed down his rumpled jeans. “That’s what I’ve been saying. I was making a rope so I could get out the window when everyone decided to stop by for a visit and…wait a minute. Did you say Ven?”

The dollman bobbed his head. “The other name of the Fallen, Awoken. The People must flee.”

Lina snorted. “Dollman, waystone, stonesong, and now Ven? I’ve been hanging out with you two less than an hour, and already I feel like I need a dictionary. Are you just making these words up as you go along?”

“I wish,” said Michael. He turned to the dollman. “How close are they? I mean, how much time do we have?”

The doorbell rang again, followed by a hard knock.

The dollman glanced fearfully at the door. “The People have no time, Awoken. The Fallen have come. The Ven are here.”

The knocking grew louder.

“No. No. No.” Michael combed his fingers through his tangled hair, and tried to think. This was too soon. “This is all wrong. I was supposed to be gone before they came.”

“What’s the big deal?” Lina asked. “And what’s a Ven, anyway?”

“Crows and talking cats with funny eyes, and maybe a couple of psychos in sunglasses, but I’m not actually sure about that part,” Michael answered. He pressed his ear to the door. He could hear Barbara starting down the stairs. “Whatever they are, they scare the daylights out of the dollmen. And a friend of mine warned me about them a couple of weeks ago. I haven’t heard from him since. He just disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Lina repeated softly. “You think these Ven are the ones knocking right now?”

Michael shot a thumb at the dollman. “He does, too.”

“So what do we do?” she asked.

Michael hesitated. What
should
he do? Diggs had told him the Wiffles would be safer not knowing about the Ven or the dollmen. But Michael had to do something, warn them somehow, or call the police.

The dollman trotted back to the window and hopped up onto the sill. “The Fallen are the hunters of blood and bone, Awoken. They are death. The People must flee or die.”

“That’s good enough for me,” said Lina. “Let’s book.”

Michael shook his head. “I can’t go yet.”

He reached for the doorknob, and Lina’s hand closed like a vice on his wrist.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Would you two stop grabbing at me all the time?” Michael pried at her fingers, but her skin was hard, wood-like. He felt like tree roots had grown around his arm. “Let go, Lina.”

“No way. Didn’t you hear the bald monkey? I’m not ready to die just yet. And I need you to get this thing out of my hand. You’re leaving with me, right now.”

Barbara’s thumping footsteps were halfway down the stairs. Michael had to do something, and fast. His eyes flickered silver, and pieces of the porcelain lamp skittered to the far corners of the room like frightened cockroaches.

“Let go!”

Silver fire erupted between Lina’s fingers, and she drew back her hand with a startled yelp.

Mortified, Michael clamped down on the stonesong, and his eyes faded to brown. “Lina, I didn’t mean to…” He reached tentatively for her wounded hand. “Did I hurt you?”

Lina jerked her hand out of reach. “Don’t touch me.” Turning her back to him, she joined the dollman at the window. “Go and die, then, see if I care. Come on, Shorty, we’re outta here.”

The dollman shook his head. “The Awoken must follow. We are the People.”

Lina made a sour face. “Fine. Then get out of my way.”

The knocking came again, louder than ever.

“Barbie!” Karl bellowed.

“I’m coming,” Barbara hollered. “Get off your lazy rump if you’re in such a hurry!”

“Lina, wait,” begged Michael.

He couldn’t let her go. She had the waystone, the key to controlling the stonesong. He needed her at least as much as he needed the dollman.

“Give me two minutes to call the cops. Then we’ll all leave together.”

Lina lifted her foot to the sill. “Why should I?”

Michael bit back the obvious
because you need me to get out the waystone
. “I just want to call the cops, okay? My foster parents have a phone in their room right down the hall. Please, Lina, give me two minutes.”

Lina’s scowl softened. “Two minutes. Then I’m gone.”

“Thank you.” Michael threw open the door and stepped into the hall. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

The phone in the Wiffles’ bedroom was dead. Michael slammed down the receiver. There was another phone in the kitchen, but if this one wasn’t working, chances were the other was just as useless. But he had to try.

He heard Barbara opening the front door before he was halfway to the stairs.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Mr. and Mrs. Wiffle?” drawled a familiar voice.

A prickling chill swept over Michael’s skin. He skidded to a stop at the top of the stairs and squatted, peeking around the banister to look downstairs.

Karl was up after all. He and Barbara exchanged a glance before he answered the dark-suited man at the door.

“I’m Karl Wiffle, and this is my wife, Barbara. Can I help you?”

Smiley grinned from the doorway, a thin black briefcase in his hand. “That depends, amigo. Are you the legal guardians of Michael Stevens?”

Michael cursed under his breath. To get to the kitchen he’d have to pass right by the door and Smiley. Now what?

Karl’s lips tightened into a stubborn line. “What’s this all about?”

“Oh, nothing special,” Smiley said vaguely. “Do you happen to know the current whereabouts of your foster son, Mr. Wiffle?”

“Michael’s upstairs in his room,” Barbara said. “I just spoke to him.”

Smiley grinned. “Excellent.”

“He doesn’t need to know that, Barbie.” Karl puffed out his skinny chest. He looked, for all the world, like an irritated rooster wearing striped pajamas. “You had better start talking, fella. Is Michael in some kind of trouble?”

“I’m afraid so.” Smiley flipped the briefcase flat-side up, offering the case to the Wiffles like a snack tray at a dinner party. “Have a look for yourself.”

The Wiffles leaned closer, and the lid sprang open, ejecting a cloud of white vapor directly into their faces. Without a word, the couple collapsed lifelessly to the floor.

“Made you look,” Smiley exclaimed cheerfully.