The Conch Shell of Doom (13 page)

“What did they give him?” Alexis asked. “I’m pretty sure nobody can do the
Obliviate
spell.”

Tim laughed. “Nerd.”

“Says the guy who practices samurai sword moves in the back yard with a stick.”

Marshall
oohed.
“S
nap
!”

Tim lowered his head in defeat. He didn’t have a comeback. “Can we just tell them what we found out about Mr. Lovell?”

“What?” Alexis sounded excited. “We couldn’t find anything.”

Tim jutted out his chin. “I guess only one of us has web ninja skills.”

“Yes, yes, you’re the Jackie Chan of the Internet,” Alexis said half-heartedly.
 

“I’m Tony Jaa. You know its Tony Jaa. I tell you that every time I find a torrent for you to watch. Jackie Chan’s so old, flicking him with your finger would break every bone in his body.”
 

Tim hacked into Oxford’s library database before finding anything on Mr. Lovell. Dr. James Rand, a professor specializing in the occult, wrote a paper on him back in the fifties.
 

“Wow,” Bailey said. “Good find.”

Tim held his hands together and bowed. “That’s how ninjas roll.”

“Oxford?” Alexis asked, a mischievous look in her eyes. “I’m sure Mom would love rolling into jail to bail you out.”

Tim grinned. “I know what you’re trying to do, and I refuse to play into your little game. A ninja has more self-control than that.”

Much as Bailey enjoyed watching those two go at it, there were more pressing things to deal with. “Okay web ninja, so give us the 4-1-1.”

Tim and Marshall broke it down. According to the paper, Mr. Lovell was originally an alchemist in Sussex, born sometime around the start of the eighteenth century.

“An alchemist is probably the modern day equivalent of a used car salesman,” Tim said. “Going around, acting like they can turn metal into gold.”

“We know what an alchemist is,” Alexis said.

Bailey kept his mouth shut. He didn’t know.

Once people figured out alchemy was a load of crap, Lovell fled Sussex and wandered around Europe, trying to pass himself off as some kind of miracle worker.
 

“That was 1725,” Marshall said. “Give or take a few years on each side.”

“Miracle worker?” Bailey asked.

“He claimed he could cure the plague, Leprosy, AIDS, you name it,” Tim rubbed his fingers together. “For a small fee, of course.”

“They didn’t have AIDS back then,” Bailey wondered. “Did they?”

“He’s exaggerating,” Alexis said.

“Ah.”

The miracle worker stint didn’t go so well, and after that, the trail went cold until 1747, when he emerged in London. Some hotel had a record of him renting a room for a few nights.

“That’s when things got really weird,” Tim said. “Apparently—”

Tim’s voice trailed off as a car approached. The headlights would shine on them at any moment. There was nowhere to hide. They’d be spotted if they didn’t move. If the person behind the wheel was Percy, no way he wouldn’t recognize Bailey and Alexis.
 

“Quick,” Bailey said. “We have to get on the beach.”

“Why?” Tim asked.

“Go!”

Bailey sprinted off. Alexis followed close behind, with Marshall and Tim trailing, wondering what the big deal was. Bailey ran past the row of buildings and jumped over the rail, landing softly on the sand. Alexis touched down beside him, and Tim next to her. Bailey saw Marshall flying straight for him. There wasn’t even enough time to curse. He landed on Bailey’s chest, knocking the wind out of him.

“I thought you’d be a softer landing,” Marshall shook his head back and forth. Sand flew out of his short hair in every direction, including Bailey’s mouth.

“Dick.” He spit the sand out. “Get off. I can’t breathe.”

“My bad.” Marshal rolled off his friend, easing the pressure on Bailey’s chest. “There you go. Deep breath in, deep breath out.”

“Wax on, wax off.” Tim’s wiry arms moved in circular motions.

Bailey flipped each of them the bird. Car lights approached. They stayed out of sight as they passed by. After a few moments, Tim and Marshall looked out onto the street. Alexis helped Bailey to his feet.

Air slowly returned to Bailey’s lungs. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking sand out. “Thanks.”

“You’re covered.” Alexis brushed sand off his shoulders, giving him a silly half-grin.

“Should’ve worn sandals.” Tim tapped his shoes against one of the pier’s columns, knocking sand off. The others followed suit.
 

With sand out of his mouth and breathing back to normal, Bailey asked to hear the rest of the story.

“So, anyway,” Tim said. “Mr. Lovell became obsessed with immortality, claiming he knew how to achieve it.”

“That’s not creepy,” Alexis said.

“It’s kind of creepy,” Bailey said.

“It’s very creepy.” Marshall bent over, trying to get more sand out of his hair, and then patted it, making sure nothing looked messy. “Not child molester creepy, but it’s up there.”

“Do you want to hear the story or not?” Tim huffed.

Marshall finished fixing his hair. “I’ve already heard it.”

Tim smacked him on the arm. “I meant them.”

“I know.” Marshall returned the favor.
 

Tim rubbed the spot where he got hit. “Damn, dude. I didn’t hit you that hard.”

“See this?” Marshall flexed, showing off his muscles. “I can’t help it if a little love tap shatters your weak ass arm.

“I actually would like to hear the rest of the story,” Alexis said. “If that’s okay.”

According to the paper, Mr. Lovell’s trail went cold again after London. His name popped up every now and again over the next two hundred years, but he mostly stayed under the radar. If anyone knew what he was up to, they didn’t leave a record of it.

“They didn’t have radar back then,” Marshall said.

Tim gave Marshall a slight shove. “You get my point.”

“Guess he got his wish and became immortal,” Bailey said.

“Yeah, but it came with a pretty steep price,” Tim said.

While wandering around Europe, Mr. Lovell pledged fealty to some unknown force. The paper didn’t say what that force was, only that Mr. Lovell was tasked with ensuring some kind of Awakening happened, which, if successful, would effectively end the world as they knew it.

“Typical crazy
Ghostbusters
stuff,” Tim said.
 

“He talked about an Awakening at my parent’s party,” Bailey said.

Alexis tied her hair in a ponytail. “Did they know when or where this Awakening was happening?”

Tim shrugged. “No idea.”

“Of course.” Bailey shook his head. “That would’ve been too easy.”

Tim wagged his finger. “You say that, but considering everything that’s going on, there’s a good chance it’s happening here. It’s not as certain as Bruce Lee beating someone’s ass or the sky being blue, but it’s up there.”

“Can I address the elephant in the room?” Marshall asked. “This is real, right? You really saw Mr. Lovell appear out of thin air, my parents weren’t bullshitting about your memory, and this Awakening isn’t some stupid fairy tale?”

“Looks like it.” Bailey leaned against one of the wooden columns, holding back a satisfied smile.
 

Marshall looked down at the sand. “Well, damn. Don’t I feel like a massive turd.”

“Yeah,” Tim said. “Sorry we thought you were crazy.”

Bailey waved off their apologies. He wasn’t one to hold a grudge. “All good.”

Alexis stood up on her toes, peeking at a car moving past them. Bailey liked the definition it gave her legs. The car pulled over into a parking spot next to the museum. She pointed at it, excitedly hopping up and down.
 

“Guys, it’s him.”
 

Bailey watched as a man got out of a sweet-looking classic Mustang. Someone like Percy didn’t deserve a ride that beautiful. Alexis’s arm rubbed against him. She let out a slight gasp, as if the touch excited her. Had it?

That would be pretty awesome
.

Marshall pointed. “That the guy?”
 

Bailey focused, trying to make sure it was Percy. His back was to them, and the lack of light made it difficult to recognize anything familiar. Bailey found it odd Percy wore a leather jacket. Mooresville didn’t exactly get cold on summer nights. “It’s hard to tell. He had this stupid hat on earlier. This guy looks bigger, too.”

“You think he’s hot, don’t you?” Marshall joked.

Bailey rolled his eyes. “Yes, Marshall. I can barely see the guy, yet I still find him attractive. You got me.”

“I knew it.”

The man held a crowbar at his side. He moved to the museum’s entrance and used it to jimmy the door open, removing any doubt that it was their guy.

“A crowbar?” Tim sounded offended. “Weak. I’d be able to just slide in under a window.”

“Hm hum.” Marshall glared at him. “Because you’re a ninja, right?”

“Hell yeah.”

The museum door swung open, and Percy disappeared into the museum. Bailey took out his phone and dialed 9-1-1. An operator answered on the second ring.
 

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” she asked.

“I just saw somebody break into the Nautical Museum.” Bailey felt excited about the whole thing. He’d never dialed 9-1-1 before. The operator didn’t respond, but Bailey heard her typing on a keyboard.

“Tell them you’re naked,” Marshall whispered.

Bailey scowled at him. Percy was still in the museum, but for how long was anybody’s guess. Alexis paced back and forth, eyes never leaving the entrance. She nibbled on her thumbnail. Bailey laughed under his breath when he noticed Tim absent-mindedly doing the same paces and chewing.

“What?” Tim asked. Bailey shook his head.

“The police are on their way,” the operator said. “Ma’am, are you in any danger?”

What? Ma’am? “I’m a guy. And no, not in any danger.”

Alexis gasped. “They did not just call you a woman.”

Marshall’s jaw almost fell off his face. He bit his hand and scuttled off to the ocean, bursting into laughter. Bailey barely heard it over the waves, but Marshall’s shaking shoulders made it clear. Tim sucked in his lips, trying to keep it together. The giggles slipped out, sounding like he was clearing his throat. He held up a finger, as if saying, “Be right back,” and then ran over to Marshall so they could laugh together.

Bailey looked up at the starry sky, sick with embarrassment
. Why did I have to correct the operator? Nobody would’ve known if I’d kept my stupid mouth shut. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Okay, ma’am, do you know if the perpetrator is armed?”

Ugh. Again with the ma'am! “He used a crowbar to get in, but other than that I don’t know. And I’m a
man
.”

“I apologize, sir,” the operator said. “Do you want us to call you after the police arrive to inform you of the result?”

“No, that’s okay. Thanks.” Bailey just wanted the call to end.

“Thank you for calling, and you take care of that
beautiful
voice of yours.”

“Uh huh.” Bailey ended the call and then tried so hard to stuff the phone in his pocket. It took him three tries.
 

“You have to admit it’s pretty funny.” Alexis’s grin betrayed whatever sympathy she felt.

“Do I really sound like a girl?”
 

Her grin broke out into a wide smile, revealing her teeth. Bailey wondered what it would be like to kiss them. And her lips. And everything else.

“Do you want me to answer honestly?” She laughed.

At least, he did wonder. Not anymore.

“You too? Thanks a bunch.” Bailey faked acting upset. Well, mostly faked. Being mistaken for a woman didn’t do much for his ego.

Marshall and Tim finished getting the laughter out of their system around the same time the police arrived. Neither of the police cars flashed their lights, keeping Percy ignorant of their presence. The two cars parked in front of the museum. One pair of cops ran in the museum, and the others waited outside. It wasn’t long before the cops dragged Percy out of the museum in handcuffs.

“How pissed do you think he is right now?” All Bailey could think about was
bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Alexis crossed her arms and smirked, a
Gotcha!
look on her face. “Nuclear.”

“The real question, Nancy,” Marshall said. “Is how pissed are
you
right now?”

Bailey smacked himself in the face.
So, so stupid.

What happened? Nobody knew Franklin was breaking into the museum, so how did Mooresville’s finest know to break up the party? How? Just…
how
? Did Percy and Mr. Lovell know they were being spied on? Not possible. Mr. Lovell would’ve tried to kill Franklin on the spot. He didn’t know where to begin with all the questions bouncing around in his head. Worse yet, the Conch Shell of Doom was
right there.
 

“Unless you guys are strippers, I don’t believe you’re invited to this party.”

The cops had their pistols drawn, pointed at Franklin’s head. He decided if there were another Awakening to prevent for some reason, paying off the police would be the first thing on his list.

“Party’s over,” one of them said behind Franklin. “Get your hands up.”

Franklin stared at the Shell. He could almost reach out and touch it. Preventing the Awakening was so much easier before the Internet shrunk the world.
 

“Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart,” the same cop said.
 

Franklin held up his hands and got down on his knees. One of the cops grabbed his forearms and pulled them down and then slapped the handcuffs on his wrists, pushing them until they couldn’t be any tighter. The other read him his Miranda rights. Franklin wanted to explode. To say he felt disappointed about the unfortunate turn of events would have been a massive understatement.

Screwed me again, Trenton.
 

One of the policemen, Johnson, sporting a bushy brown mustache, took out Franklin’s wallet and examined his ID.