Kingdom Keepers VII (56 page)

T
HE
K
EEPERS TALK
Joe and the Imagineers into allowing them into the park as DHIs during daytime hours, claiming that they want one last chance to act out their hosting roles, to show families around the park and see the joy the DHIs bring.

“We can’t explain it,” Finn says to Joe. He feels guilty about the lie. “After everything that’s happened, it’s just something we want to do.”

“There’s no repaying the debt we owe you,” Joe says. “I don’t need to tell you that. You have the keys to the Kingdom for life. And I’m hoping you’ll all consider my offer of Imagineering School after college. You each have something unique to offer.”

“Alone or together,” Willa says, reiterating his earlier words.

“Yes,” says Joe. “Speaking of which, what about Jess and Amanda?”

“They’re busy. We’d like to do this by ourselves, if that’s okay.” Finn stumbles over his words, winning a curious look from Joe. “Sorry. We stayed up all night”—he glances at Philby—“so we’d be tired enough to fall asleep for the crossover.”

“Sure,” Joe says.

“We promise to return on time,” Finn adds, holding up the precious fob that will allow them back.

“Off you go then! Get to sleep. We’ll cross you over. Have a great time,” Joe says.

“Oh,” Philby says, “we will.”

* * *

The Keepers cross over at 8:00
A.M
., an hour before the gates open, and an hour before they are supposed to show up and guide guests through the park.

“Do you think he suspects?” Charlene asks, trying to brush a speck of lint from her hologram clothes, then realizing it’s useless. No matter how many times she crosses over, she’ll never quite adjust.

“The Amanda-and-Jess excuse was lame,” Maybeck says.

“We’re fine,” says Charlene. “But it doesn’t seem right. I mean, it’s Jess’s sketch!”

Philby says, “This is just the one time, Charlie.” He receives curious looks from all.

“You suspect something,” Charlene says defiantly.

“I do,” Philby says.

“Do you know what Wayne’s going to say? That is, if he says anything!” Charlene stares him down.

They can barely hear Philby’s answer. “I think I do. Yes.”

“And?” Charlene asks.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Honestly? I don’t believe it myself. But what I know—and I tried to tell Finn this—is that no one would believe me anyway. We have to hear Wayne’s words from Wayne.”

“Well,” Charlene says, “you had me at: ‘I don’t believe it myself.’ Since when? Let’s do this thing.”

They smile and laugh, caught up for a moment in the renewed warm feeling of their companionship. The years have gone by quickly. Not one of the Keepers has forgotten a single moment—the battles, both within and among themselves and against their enemies; the puzzles that so resisted being solved; the quiet moments and the loud. There’s an awkward sense of pride they share but will not mention, a sense of accomplishment that also goes unspoken. Some of this is communicated with a glance or a grin, some not at all. Shared terror that is survived has a way of cementing companionship.

“Above all,” Finn says, “we’re a team.”

For a moment it looks as if the others might tease him for this outburst. Surprisingly, it’s Maybeck that comes to his rescue. “I’d never trade you guys for anything,” Maybeck says, clearing his throat and staring at his shoes. “Wouldn’t change any of it, even the worst stuff. I realize you two,” he motions to Finn and Philby, “think something’s going on with this music box, but I don’t care. It isn’t any of this”—he sweeps his hand through his hologram torso—“that’s so cool anymore. It’s this.” He throws his holographic arm around Charlene and pulls her close.

“It is,” Willa agrees, squeezing Philby’s hand.

“You know, instead of another adventure, we could all apply to the same college!” Charlene says, winning more laughter from the group. “Yeah, well, it was a thought.”

“We check out the music box, then we hang out in the park and actually have fun for a change. Right?” Willa says.

Finn reaches into his pocket and holds up the fob. “Right. And when we’re done for the day, we take the one way back that’s always worked. We…?”

All the Kingdom Keepers respond at once, in brilliant unison: “Push the button!”

I
N A WINDOWLESS ROOM
at an undisclosed location—it looks a lot like the deep foundation dug to anchor the collapsed Skyway—a dark-skinned woman sits, cross-legged on the ground. Her matted dreadlocks and tattooed mascara suggest the costume of a Halloween trick-or-treater rather than that of the voodoo witch doctor she is.

The air smells foul, like lizard kidney and hundred-year-old eggs, the blood of a goat and wing of a bat. The stench emanates from the concoction bubbling softly in front of the woman, which simmers at a roiling boil, though there is no fire, no apparent source of heat of any kind.

The woman adds wings plucked from a living moth and the immemorial eye of newt, murmuring dark words under her breath.

This is no simple resurrection spell she is casting, but a charm for the ages, an experimental recipe she envisioned a long time ago but has never dared to try. The wing of bat was not from any ordinary creature. No. It was found near the base of the Matterhorn, after the disaster.

She dips a long finger in the brew, wincing at the heat, and withdraws, licking from the bowl of her inverted fingernail. Lacking sufficient volume of genuine spiderweb, she plucks out several of her own hairs—protein is protein—stirs them in, and smiles.

Perhaps there will be a bit of her in this one.…

From a leather pouch sealed with a piece of rawhide, she withdraws three pale bones. She collected them on a day that feels like years ago, scrounging in a dank tunnel below a temple in the heart of the Mexican jungle: dragon bones—special bones that slide into the caldron and bubble on their way to the bottom.

The woman’s eyes roll back in her head, entirely white, like two soft onions.

“Here within this devil’s brew,

Lost life restarted,

One and one make two.

Foundered but not sunken,

As wild as the drunken

Torment of the scorned.

Bring these two

Together,

United in fright and fear.

May its power know no limits.

It lives now:

Bring it here.”