Island of Shipwrecks (3 page)

“Oh,” Alex said, his thoughts whirling. “Right. Of course you're right.” He pushed back a lock of tangled hair that had fallen over his eyes and sighed, defeated. “Then I guess there's no other choice,” he said, turning to gaze at Artimé's grand protector who circled the ship above. “But it worries me. I just wish it wouldn't leave us so vulnerable.”

“You mean Simber?” Ms. Octavia said, her voice grave.

Losing Simber was the last thing Alex wanted to do. He had no idea what dangers awaited them. But it was the only way to save Sean. He nodded slowly, even as his gut twisted. “We'll have to make our way home without him.”

A
s he ran away from Artimé through the jungle, the High Priest Aaron Stowe tripped over a root and fell hard to the ground. He lay there for a minute, panting, trying to get the horrible image of Secretary being attacked by the panther out of his mind, but he couldn't.

He touched the pocket where the heart attack spell components had been. The fabric lay flat against his leg now. Had he killed Panther? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that after that attack, there was no way Secretary was still alive. And it was his fault.

It was almost like he'd murdered the woman himself.

His chest tightened. He sucked in a breath and choked on it. He tried to tell himself that she'd have died eventually anyway since he'd sent her to the Ancients Sector. But it wasn't the same—because he'd actually
seen
her die, which somehow made it more real. Besides, his plan had been to get her out of there again. To scare her into being more obedient. The plan had backfired.

“It's
her
fault,” he said weakly. He pressed his elbow into the moist jungle floor and sat up. “What was she doing in Artimé, of all places? If she'd gone to the Ancients Sector right away like she was supposed to, she'd still be alive. Probably, anyway.” He couldn't catch his breath, and his chest wouldn't stop hurting. He didn't know what was wrong with him. Only that he wanted Secretary back.

He got to his feet, eyes stinging, and stumbled toward the clearing where the tube was, hoping beyond hope that the rock was nowhere in sight. He had to get out of there. He had to go home.

Finally he reached the clearing and saw the little dog swinging by his teeth from tree branch to tree branch. There was no
one else there. Aaron hid behind a tree and waited for the dog to move out of sight, and then he ran for the tube and stepped inside. When he turned to push the button, he caught sight of something moving toward him through the jungle. It was the panther, as alive as she'd ever been. Beside her was a large gray wolf.

The wolf's cool, blue eyes met Aaron's, and for a brief moment Aaron felt like he'd seen the creature before. But of course he hadn't. And he had no desire to see it ever again. He slammed his hand down on the button and disappeared, spending less than a second in the mansion's tube before redirecting himself to Haluki's house.

In no time at all, the high priest was making his way out of the house, up the gravel driveway toward the portcullis, and past the guards to the palace. Inside, he shoved past Liam Healy without a word, leaving the new governor speechless, and continued to his office, where all was quiet. Too quiet.

Aaron closed the door, walked to his desk, and sat down. Then he dropped his head into his hands and stayed still for a very long time, thinking about Secretary. Thinking about how he'd made yet another rash decision, and he'd messed up again.
Thinking about how there was no fixing this. Not this time. Because the woman who always fixed things for him was dead. After a while, the pain in his chest grew so large that it began to push its way out in low groans and ugly sobs.

Aaron's only friend in the entire world was dead.

What was he going to do without her?

W
hen Gunnar Haluki returned and the confusion from the panther attack on Artimé finally began to clear, three truths emerged:

Eva Fathom was dead . . . and she appeared to have been on Artimé's side all along.

Aaron Stowe had unleashed the panther, but he'd also released the heart attack spells to stop its attack.

Meghan Ranger was one seriously ticked-off Unwanted, and she'd had about enough of Aaron Stowe.

Her component vest pockets bulging, Meghan marched past the girrinos at the gate without a word and headed into Quill,
up the road toward the palace. Every step she took brought her simmering anger closer to its boiling point, and by the time she reached the palace, she was in no mood to converse with the guards who stood there. Before they could issue a challenge, she hit the men with scatterclips that sent them flying backward, pinning them to the portcullis. She finished with a silent spell and left them hanging noiselessly as she released the lock and slipped inside the grounds.

At the entrance, Meghan dog-collared each guard with clay shackles. After only a moment's hesitation to take in the unfamiliar surroundings, she straightened her vest, headed up the stairs, and began opening doors and looking inside rooms until she happened upon the right one.

Aaron emitted a small gasp when he heard the noise at the door, and Meghan thought she detected a hint of hope in his face. But it soon turned to confusion and perhaps even fear.

Meghan didn't care. Hope, confusion, fear—none of it mattered. Before he could move, Meghan flung a handful of scatterclips at him. He and his chair soared backward and stuck to the wall. His arms stuck too, spread out, leaving him helpless.

“Wha-a-a-t?” Aaron asked. He sniffed wildly and tried to wipe his eyes on his shoulder, but he couldn't quite reach.

Meghan stepped right up to him, her face pinched in disdain. “I saw what you did. What is your problem?” she said, not caring that she spoke the words loud enough to be heard outside the office. “I hope you know Eva Fathom is dead! Where did you find that horrible panther creature?”

Aaron stared. “It—it was a mistake,” he said. It made him feel weak to say it, and he didn't like that feeling at all. He cleared his throat and changed his tone to something much more menacing. “I intended to kill you all,” he said, lifting his chin. “And if you don't release me immediately, I will do just that.”

Meghan's sneer melted in confusion as the scatterclips clattered to the floor. The sudden freedom took Aaron by surprise. He scrambled off the chair, tripped over its leg, and fell. He looked startled for a moment, then his countenance cleared, and as he got to his feet, he seemed quite pleased with himself.

“How did you do that?” Meghan demanded. She pulled more spells from her vest pockets, ready to fight.

“Yes, Aaron. How?” came a voice from the doorway. “I'm
so
curious.”

Meghan turned to see a red-faced, eyebrowless woman stepping into the room. The girl eased back, pointing spells at Aaron and the woman, but neither seemed to take any further notice of her. The two stared at each other.

“Do what, Governor? I didn't do anything,” Aaron said, his voice cool. He wiped the dust from his pants. “This Unwanted is such a failure that she can't even cast a proper spell.”

Meghan's jaw dropped in indignation, but she remained silent, fascinated by Aaron's lie. She hadn't cast a bad spell, and she hadn't released it. Aaron had. Whether he knew it or not remained to be seen. But clearly the woman in the doorway had seen it, and was keen enough on magic to know something strange had just happened.

The woman walked in. “Who are you?” she asked Meghan.

“Who are
you
?” Meghan replied. She held a backward bobbly head, ready to fling it at the woman if she got any closer.

“I'm Gondoleery Rattrapp, of course. Tell me, nameless girl, did my eyes deceive me? Or did our fearless leader just
release himself from a spell you cast?” The woman stepped closer to Meghan.

Meghan's eyes darted to Aaron, who gave her a small, panicked look, which confused Meghan dreadfully. What was going on here? “If you take one more step toward me,” Meghan warned Gondoleery, “I'll—”

With that, Gondoleery pointed at Meghan. A tiny fireball shot from her fingertip, hitting Meghan in the shoulder and singeing her sleeve and the ends of her hair.

Without thinking, Meghan cast the bobbly head at Gondoleery and shot a highlighter spell in Aaron's eyes, blinding him. And while Gondoleery's head spun a hundred and eighty degrees, bobbling loosely, and Aaron cried out in pain and pitched into his desk, Meghan Ranger ran from the office, down the stairs, and out of the palace like her life depended on it, passing Liam Healy in the entryway. He turned and watched her go, confused. And then he sprinted up the steps to Aaron's office, finding Aaron and Gondoleery looking most peculiar.

When Gondoleery Rattrapp's head was finally on straight and she could think clearly once more, she faced Liam and
Aaron, whose sight was beginning to come back.

“Is it true what she said?” Gondoleery asked. “Eva's dead?”

“What?” cried Liam.

Aaron wasn't sure if he could speak. He was glad he could blame the highlighter spell for his moist eyes. “It's true,” he said finally. “She was killed by . . .” Aaron's thoughts whirled. “By a creature in Artimé,” he said carefully.

Liam's shock turned to disbelief. “Why? How could that happen? That's against everything they stand for!”

“Artimé attacked and killed the secretary to the high priest?” Gondoleery cried out, dumbfounded. “And you just stood here and let that Unwanted cast spells on
us
? What kind of pathetic ruler are you? She could have killed both of us, leaving Quill at their mercy!” Gondoleery moved her face close to Aaron's—so close he could feel draconic heat emanating from her pores. “You are a terrible leader!”

Aaron stared at her. He could smell her rank breath.

“Gondoleery,” Liam said quietly. “Step back.”

“Yes,” Aaron said, coming to his senses, his chest heaving. “Back off immediately. Or I'll summon the guards.”

Gondoleery cackled, and a bit of spittle landed on Aaron's
cheek. He narrowed his eyes and wiped it away. After a moment, she took a step back. “You're a scared little dog,” she said. “You're afraid to attack Artimé, aren't you? Aha, you are!” She laughed again. “You know, if you don't take control of Quill soon, somebody else will, and happily.”

The words cut Aaron hard because he knew they were true. He had failed to keep the Restorers together. He'd failed to train the jungle animals to do his bidding and the panther ended up killing the only person he actually cared about. There was only so much more he could do before somebody figured out he didn't have a clue how to run Quill . . . especially now, without Secretary by his side.

But he couldn't show any weakness—not in front of Gondoleery. Not now, when she had seen him release the spell. His magical abilities
had
to remain his secret weapon. “My dear Gondoleery,” he said, his words like ice, “if you don't get out of this room immediately, I'll send you back to the Ancients Sector where you came from.”

A flicker of fear crossed Gondoleery's face before her self-assured smile returned. She extended her singed fingers, examined them, and loudly cracked her knuckles, knowing
she had nothing to worry about. Still, she made no reply, and after a moment, she turned and marched out of the office.

Aaron let out a breath and dropped into his chair.

Liam moved to speak but Aaron shushed him. “You too,” the high priest said gruffly. “Out.”

“But . . . about Eva—what happened?”

“I said get out!”

Liam hesitated, fists balled in frustration and grief, and then turned on his heel and left.

Once Aaron was alone, the realization was almost too much for him to take. Gondoleery was so right it hurt—Aaron
was
a terrible leader of Quill. He didn't know what he was doing. He made hasty decisions that had awful, senseless outcomes. He started things that had potential, but he continually failed to follow through. And now, the worst thing of all had happened. Gondoleery had figured out his secret—he was a complete and utter failure.