Witch and Wizard - James Patterson [55]
In my mind, I saw the track switch moving just as we passed over it.
The barreling train suddenly swerved and plunged into the left-hand tunnel, shooting away from us like a comet. Within seconds its terrifying whistle had faded to a dull whine.
We finally bounced to a stop, but I kept the engine running, just in case. My shirt was stuck to me with cold sweat.
The kids sobbed and hugged one another in the backseat. Emmet was still white as an alabaster statue and looked like he was going to either cry with relief or barf from motion sickness. Margo’s tense hands gripped the dashboard like claws, and then she reached over and grabbed my shoulder just as hard.
“You did it, Whit,” she whispered. “You saved our lives.”
It took us a few minutes to catch our breath and come down from the adrenaline-cliff edge. Then Emmet’s voice hissed excitedly through the sounds of celebration.
“This is the, uh, turnoff I was telling you about.” His voice was still shaking. “We can take the tunnel to the portal. And, from there, we’ll return safely to the basement of Garfunkel’s.” He leaned back in his seat, shell-shocked.
A tiny voice came from the rear of the van. “Are we really going to Garfunkel’s?”
Chapter 89
Wisty
I SCREAMED AND LET GO OF THE ROPE, landing painfully on the concrete. As the wind crept back into my lungs, I rolled over to look up at the swollen corpse.
There was a sign pinned to his chest—written in the large font of New Order officialdom—that read:
FAILURE TO EXECUTE NEW ORDER ORDERS
NECESSITATES THE EXECUTION OF HE WHO FAILED!
They had killed the Visitor for our escape.
I was almost starting to feel bad for him when a half-dozen enormous hands grabbed me. Roughly. The crew-cut, neckless bruisers hoisted me into the air and threw me against the concrete wall.
The leader jabbed a massive finger into my face and literally sprayed his rage at me. “Nobody. Ever. ESCAPES!” he screamed.
Something was broken inside of me. Feisty girl Wisty would have fought. Truant Wisty would have said something sarcastic back—like pointing out that I had actually been breaking into this place rather than busting out. Bad, scary witch Wisty would have thrown a lightning bolt to teach him a good lesson about bullying girls who were one-quarter his size.
But my magic was dead.
I don’t know how to describe it, but it was like that little spark was gone.
So what did I do? Why, I burst into tears, of course.
Predictably enough, they mocked me. “Aw, the poor little thing,” one snickered, and another inanely quipped, “Well, one thing’s clear—with that many tears, I guess we’ve been giving her too much water.”
Which gave me the brilliant idea to spit in the guy’s face. In the absence of magic, there’s always saliva.
Okay, so it wasn’t one of my best ideas.
“Aaargh!” he screamed and grabbed my hair, twisting my head backward so hard I could almost see the tips of my toes dragging on the floor behind me. It felt like my neck might break.
This is the part where I’m supposed to explode into flame.
But there was no magic. Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Chapter 90
Wisty
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND IT. We aren’t missing any prisoners from the cell blocks,” the administrator told my guards. He was a neat little man who carried himself stiffly, probably trying to make sure he didn’t seem a fraction of an inch shorter than he was. “We had three transferred to the infirmary after interrogation last night, but every other inmate is present and accounted for.”
I felt the blood drain completely from my face. They’d injured three kids in interrogation?! At this point, it shouldn’t have surprised me that this cruel New Order would torture, but still, my despair sank to a new low.
“I’m going to ask you again,” he said, turning to me. “What’s your cell block?”
I was so torn apart I couldn’t even respond. He thought I was being defiant. But I knew the sad truth: I didn’t have much defiance left in me anymore.
The administrator’s headset glowed blue, and he turned away. He was getting a call.
“No, her hair hasn