Witch and Wizard_ The Fire - James Patterson [36]
Trained wolves snarl at the N.O.P.E. soldiers’ feet, teeth bared and ready to snap.
I picture my parents’ wan faces, Dad’s forbidding hand, and the fear in Mom’s eyes. Something was going on there at the river, something they didn’t want me to see. But nothing — not Dad, not The One, not even a pack of wolves — is going to keep me from the Shadowland.
It’s the last place in the universe any sane person would want to be, but that terrifying land of stolen memory and shortened lives holds Celia, my parents, and everything I’ve lost.
For better or worse, the Shadowland holds my destiny.
Chapter 36
Whit
WHEN YOU’RE BACKED into a corner, sometimes the only thing to do is the stupidest thing you can think of.
To that effect, without so much as a disguise to help me out, I march up to the New Order thugs slouching against the dirty concrete. “Confidence is key,” Dad always used to say. “You can do almost anything if you believe you can.”
And, actually, it kind of works for a second. I don’t betray any motive, and it’s as if the guards have forgotten that they’re supposed to be guarding the place. They just look at me with bored expressions. For a minute I think I’m actually going to get away with strolling right past them, but unfortunately the wolves are a bit more on the ball.
The death dogs snarl and start to tug at their chains, mouths foaming at me in hunger and hatred. This perks the soldiers right up, and they scramble to get their weapons pointed at me.
The youngest one tries to be authoritative. “No one goes in or out, bub,” he says, his gun leveled between my eyes. “Entry is strictly forbidden.”
“I’ve been sent by The One Who Is The One,” I hear my voice telling them calmly before I know what I’m saying. The older, bald one looks at me uncertainly and mutters something to his comrade, and I try not to let my hands shake in front of the hell beasts, who probably have built-in lie detectors or something. “I have an official letter,” I continue boldly.
One of the guards nods and holds out a hand expectantly. Great. I do not, in fact, have an official letter. All I have is a crumpled-up slip of paper with Mrs. Highsmith’s directions to the portal on it, but I pull the pathetic thing out of my pocket anyway and thrust it at him.
The older one takes the proffered letter and unfolds it, then barks, “What’s this? It’s just a piece of paper with street names. Arrest —”
Before the guy can get the rest of the words out, I’m off. This is what I’ve trained for. This is what I was made for — saving my parents. My feet fly beneath me, faster than I’ve ever run before, carrying me straight at that heavy wooden door guarding the portal.
And as I hear the wolves snapping at my heels, as I sense the guards taking aim with their fingers quivering on the triggers, I hope, I pray, that I’m still a Curve, that my body will bend into the other dimension, that I’ll melt through this solid door into the Shadowland and into the arms of Celia, and my parents, and everyone who is counting on me to be a hero this last time. I’m praying that I don’t just smash into that oak and get arrested.
Because after all I’ve been through, after all Mom and Dad have been through, that would seriously suck.
I’m flying, leaping, flailing forward with one final heave, holding my breath, and the last thing I feel is a tremendous crack as if my head’s exploding.
Chapter 37
Whit
WELL, THAT WAS … intense.
With portals, each one is a different experience, but it’s never very much fun. There have been times it wasn’t unlike going through a car wash; times it felt like being “squeezed out a birth canal” (in Wisty’s words); and one notable episode when I was sure I looked like a tomato smashed against a wall when I came out the other side.
But this one was