The Merchant of Death (45 page)

Courtney looked at Loor and sized her up, head to toe. Mark saw this and made a mental note to give Courtney a hard time later for being jealous. But who could blame her? Mark thought that Loor was even more strikingly beautiful than Bobby had described. She may have been dressed like a suburban girl, but she had the powerful presence of a warrior. Courtney Chetwynde had finally met her match.

Bobby walked to Loor. If anyone could tell him the truth, it would be her.

“Does this make sense to you?” he asked.

“It is starting to,” was her answer.

“What about your mother?” he asked. “Was Osa your real mother?”

“No. I was told the truth before I first went to Denduron,” answered Loor. “Osa raised me, she taught me all that I know. She was my mother in every sense, except that she had not given birth to me. But that did not stop me from loving her.”

Bobby looked down, letting this sink in.

“On the mountain,” continued Loor, “I did not say good-bye to you because my mind was elsewhere. Osa's body was already back on Zadaa. I had to return for the burial ceremony. It was difficult for me. I hope you were not offended.”

Bobby shook his head. He understood all too well because he now knew what it was like to lose your mother. He looked to Press and asked, “So that's it? Travelers don't have families? They don't have lives? They only bounce around the universe looking for trouble?”

Press smiled and said, “You trust me, Bobby, don't you?”

“I think so,” said Bobby skeptically. “But I'm losing faith fast.”

“Don't,” said Press quickly. “Believe me when I tell you that
as time goes on, this will make sense to you. And I'll make you a promise. You will see your family again. You'll see your mom and your dad and your sister, Shannon, too.”

“What about Marley?” Bobby asked.

“You'll run with your dog again too,” said Press. “But not today.”

“When?” asked Bobby.

Press gave this thought. He may have had all the answers, but this one eluded him. “That's one I can't answer,” he said.

Bobby looked to Loor who gave him a slight nod of encouragement, then back to the empty lot. He took a long time to collect his thoughts. Finally he said, “You asked me how I felt before. You want to know how I feel right now?”

“How?” asked Press.

“I feel like I just found out there's no Santa Claus,” he answered. “It's not a good feeling.”

“It'll get better,” said Press.

“So what happens now?” asked Bobby.

“Now you come with us,” answered Press.

Bobby walked over to Mark and Courtney. He looked at his two friends and the memories of his life in Stony Brook came flooding back. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and see his house standing there so he could go back to the way things were before. But that was not meant to be.

“I . . . guess I've got to go,” said Bobby.

“We'll always be here for you,” said Courtney as tears began to well in her eyes.

Bobby leaned forward and grabbed the two of them in a hug. He tried hard not to break out in tears. He didn't want to do that. Not in front of Loor. But he didn't want to let go of his friends, either, because as soon as he did it would be the final act of letting go of his life here on Earth. Second Earth.

“Time to go, Bobby,” prodded Press gently.

Bobby pulled back from his two best friends and looked them in the eye. Mark wiped away a tear, smiled and said, “Hey, don't forget to write!”

The three of them laughed at this. That went without saying.

“Are you sure?” asked Bobby. “Will you keep my journals?”

“I'd be pissed if you sent them to anyone else,” Mark replied as he held up his hand to show Bobby the ring that Osa had given him.

Bobby gave a smile of thanks and fought back tears to say, “See you guys soon.”

“Good-bye, Bobby,” said Courtney. “Good luck.”

Bobby nodded, then turned and headed toward the car. He stopped in front of Loor and looked at the warrior girl who was destined to be his partner.

“I know you do not want to hear this, Pendragon,” she said. “But this is the way it was meant to be.”

“Yeah, we'll see,” said Bobby with skepticism. He gave one last look to the empty lot where his house used to be, then slid into the back of the Porsche. Loor looked at Mark and Courtney. Courtney stood up a little straighten Loor chuckled, then she too got into the car.

“Keep his journals safe,” Press said to Mark and Courtney. “He may need them again someday.”

Mark and Courtney nodded a promise. Press then jogged around the car and hopped behind the wheel. With a roar of the engine, the little sports car blasted away from the curb and flew down the street, headed for. . . somewhere.

Mark and Courtney watched it until it was out of sight and the sound died away. They stood there for a long time after, not sure of what to do next.

Finally Mark said, “There's no Santa Claus?”

Both of them laughed. It felt good, but it hid their true feelings.

Courtney said, “You'll call me if—”

“Soon as the next one comes in,” promised Mark.

Then the two of them walked away from the empty lot, split up, and headed to their homes. Mark went right to his bedroom and waited for another journal from Bobby. The others had come pretty regularly and he expected his ring to start moving with the telltale quiver any second. But it didn't. He stayed awake most of the night, staring at the ring, willing it to move.

But it didn't.

Courtney called him twice a day to see if Bobby had written but kept getting the same answer, “Nothing yet.” Whenever she saw Mark in school she would make eye contact as if to ask: “Anything?” But Mark would always answer with a shrug and a shake of his head.

Days passed. The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months, with nothing from Bobby. Mark and Courtney realized that they couldn't live their lives around waiting for his next message, so they drifted apart. Besides their friendship with Bobby, they really had nothing in common. Courtney went back to playing volleyball and led the Stony Brook team to the county finals. The men's team, of course.

Mark went back to being Mark. He still ate too many carrots and spent most of his time huddled over books in the library. There was one big change in his life though. Andy Mitchell didn't bother him anymore. Courtney didn't know it, but she became Mark's guardian angel . . . at least when it came to Andy Mitchell.

The investigation to find the Pendragons continued, but they found nothing. Sergeant D'Angelo and Captain Hirsch would sometimes call Mark or Courtney to ask if they had heard anything, but the answer was always the same. No. Even if they
wanted to tell the truth, neither of them could begin to figure out what to say.

Mark and Courtney never forgot about Bobby. He popped into their thoughts at least once a day. But the more time that passed without a word, the less he stayed on their minds. It made sense. They had to get on with their own lives.

The times when they thought of Bobby were usually triggered by seeing things that reminded them of their friend. Mark would play Nintendo football and remember the times that Bobby kicked his butt at the very same game. Courtney would hear a comedian say something goofy on TV and she'd laugh because she knew it would have made Bobby laugh. One time Mark sat in the stands during gym watching the guys play basketball and it made him think of how great Bobby was at the game.

And that's when it happened. The ring twitched.

At first Mark didn't know what it was. But when he looked down, he saw the familiar glow coming from the stone. Mark nearly wet his pants with excitement. He ran out of the stands and right through the game. It didn't matter to him that he totally disrupted play and was getting yelled at by every guy on the court. He had to get out of there fast and he had to find Courtney. He found her in the girls' gym next door. She was taking a class on combatives and was in the middle of a judo match. With very little effort she picked up her opponent and threw her on her back with a loud, sickening
thud.
Then just as she was helping her victim to her feet, Mark ran into the gym and yelled.

“Courtney!”

Everyone turned to look at the mad dweeb. Courtney locked eyes with him and instantly knew the deal. She quickly bowed to her opponent and ran to Mark. They didn't have to say a word.
They knew what to do. The two of them headed right for Mark's fortress of solitude: the boys' bathroom on the third floor. Courtney wasn't shy, she barged in ahead of Mark. No sooner did they get inside than Mark took off the ring and put it on the ground. The ring twitched, the crystal lights flashed and the familiar process began. The little ring grew larger and with a final blinding flash, it was over.

On the floor was a roll of paper, but this one looked different than the others. It was a light green color, rather than the yellowed pages they were used to. There was a tie around the roll, but rather than a piece of brown leather, this looked like some kind of dark green plantlike material. Mark pulled it off and carefully unrolled the pages. They were roughly the same size as the others, but these were oddly shaped. There were no squared edges. Mark felt the texture—they didn't appear to be paper at all. These pages were some sort of large, dried leaves that were sort of rubbery . . . and waterproof.

“You ready?” asked Courtney.

“My hands are shaking,” replied Mark.

Then the two of them looked at Bobby's newest journal.

to be continued

D. J. MacHale
is a writer, director, and producer of several popular television series and movies that include
Flight 29 Down; Are You Afraid of the Dark?; Encyclopedia Brown, Boy Detective; Tower of Terror;
and
Ghostwriter.
Pendragon, his first book series, is a
New York Times
bestselling series. He lives in southern California with his wife, Evangeline; his daughter, Keaton; a golden retriever, Maggie; and a kitten, Kaboodle.

SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS

An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing Division

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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people,

or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and

incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to

actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

First Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers edition February 2007

Copyright © 2002 by D. J. MacHale

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OOKS FOR
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The text of this book was set in Apollo MT.

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Library of Congress Control Number 2002101645

ISBN-13: 978-1-4169-3625-1

ISBN-10: 1-4169-3625-4