Witch and Wizard_ The Fire - James Patterson [38]
Whit is in serious trouble.
How can I help him now? Entrances to the Shadowland are few and far between these days, and I could never get to Mrs. Highsmith’s portal quickly enough. The Youth Troop is standing at attention; they’ve already spotted me ambling toward them. I’ll just have to pray he can get himself out of whatever horrible mess he’s in, I think, remembering Rency’s ruined face.
I’m on edge, and the cold stares of the troop as I approach aren’t helping. What kind of moron walks right up to brainwashed killers without even so much as a disguise?
Yours truly.
I panic and do a quick face-scramble, but the New Order Youth start to crack up as I draw near. They point and snicker, imitating me, and I get the sinking sense that maybe I’m a little cross-eyed. And that my nose is skewed to one side of my face.
The kid at the head of the line blows a whistle sharply, demanding decorum. I can’t see his face, but the troop immediately stands at attention.
“Just kidding around,” I say, forcing a weak laugh and quickly rearranging my features. I tap the last kid in line on the shoulder, and he spins around, ignoring the reproach of the whistle-blower up front.
“I’m, um … I’m here to join the troop. I want to be a New Order soldier someday,” I gush. “I was hoping to … destroy freedom and imagination …?” Other kids gasp and turn around at my mention of the forbidden words. Perfect.
A boy with jet-black hair snaps the strap of my dress. “Oh really?” he sneers. “You’re not exactly up to protocol with this little ‘outfit.’ ”
An older teenage girl yanks on my newly disguised dirty-blond hair. Her own hair is so tight it pulls back her whole face. “And didn’t anybody tell you? All the spots for uglies are full.”
I shrink inside even though I know the truth: I’m the only one in the world with enough power to rival The One’s. But a well-aimed insult can still sack me with a boatload of self-doubt.
“It’s my dream to honor the N.O.,” I press on, careful to keep any hint of irony from creeping into my voice. “Truly.”
Chapter 40
Wisty
“TRUE NEW ORDER Youth material joined at the beginning of the ascendancy,” the girl says as an older boy wrenches my arms behind my back.
“They saw the light of The One Who Is The One. They followed the path of true justice,” another boy says with robotic detachment while the first clamps handcuffs around my wrists.
“All others are fakers. Wannabes,” a stern little girl with braids chimes in as they march me to the front of the line with the other prisoners. “They are At Risk. They support the unholy cause of the Resistance. They must be stopped!” her shrill voice screeches.
The black-haired boy cuts in, whispering in my ear, “That’s where we come in. On the direct orders of His Greatness, it’s our job to make such heathens” — he snaps his fingers, grinning wickedly —“disappear.”
I draw a sharp intake of breath. A Y.E.S. — Youth Extermination Squad! I’d thought they were just a sick rumor.
The boy shoves me into the center of the two lines, and I huddle against a couple of the smallest prisoners, a girl and a boy no older than five, with rivers of tears running down their grubby cheeks.
I hear Mrs. Highsmith’s voice in my head. Confident. Powerful.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” I whisper to the shivering kids.
Other than torture and death, or maybe just being turned into a mindless drone for the remainder of your days, that is.
“Take me to your leader,” I say to the leering New Order Youth sarcastically.
“Oh, come on, Red,” a voice says from the front, a voice that knows how much I hate that nickname. “For a girl who so desperately wants to join the N.O., you could put a little more feeling into it.” I know that nasally accent, that whine.
The boy with the whistle turns around, his eyes scanning my face as if he doesn’t recognize me, as if he hadn’t been trying to win my heart for ages, as if I hadn’t once turned him into a weasel because he was such a