Date: 2013-08-13 07:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Young Adult; Awoken
Description: Fourteen-year-old Michael Stevens has never been ordinary; no orphan who hears music coming from rocks considers himself a typical teenager. But life gets a lot more complicated when two-foot-tall, albino, doll-like men sneak into his room one night, transforming the harmless music into a frightening ability he cannot control. Soon, strangers in black suits begin to ask unsettling questions while unnatural animals with mismatched eyes haunt the streets. They are hunting, and not just Michael: anyone he cares about is in danger. With the help of a mysterious drifter, an annoying girl he's accid
Rights: All Right Reserved

Awoken

Timothy Miller

Copyright © 2013 by Timothy Miller

Sale of the paperback edition of this book without its cover is unauthorized.

Spencer Hill Press

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Contact: Spencer Hill Press, PO Box 247, Contoocook, NH 03229, USA

Please visit our website at www.spencerhillpress.com

First Edition: August 2013.
Timothy Miller
Awoken: a novel / by Timothy Miller – 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary:
Fourteen-year-old boy discovers elemental powers and is caught in a war between frightening dollmen and a more frightening corporation that would use his powers to redefine “human.”

The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this fiction:
Bambi, Criss Angel Mindfreak, Formica, Frisbee, Girl Scouts of America, Harry Potter, Humane Society, Krazy Glue, Lord of the Rings, Sleeping Beauty, Supernatural

Cover design by Lisa Amowitz
Interior layout by Marie Romero

ISBN 978-1-937053-53-6 (paperback)
ISBN 978-1-937053-54-3 (e-book)

Printed in the United States of America

For Zenoba, who knew the way home. For my children, and all my nieces and nephews. And especially for Breigh, who helped me rediscover the Dollmen.

1

Night Approaches

Time was running out for fourteen-year-old Michael Stevens. He could feel it in his bones. Night was closing in, as unstoppable as the changing tide, as uncaring as the seasons.

They’d be coming soon.

He leaned his palms against the large bay window. Across the street, the setting sun brushed Mrs. Finche’s roof. A shaft of light reflected from her weathervane, turning his fingers a translucent pink against the glass. The faint silhouettes of small bones appeared beneath his fingernails. He stared at the skeletal fingertips and licked his lips. Death was coming.

“I’ll have to be very quick.”

“Did you say something, Michael?”

Michael jerked his hand from the glass. “Just talking to myself, Mrs. Wiffle.”

The portly woman seated on a tattered green couch in the center of the room clucked her tongue in mock annoyance. “Call me Barbara, dear.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Wif…I mean, Barbara. I was daydreaming.”

As was her habit before bed, Barbara wore her favorite fuzzy purple bathrobe, a shaggy tent-like garment large enough to cover a small automobile. Michael normally loved talking to Barbara when she wore the robe. It was as if he were having a conversation with a talking, purple bear.

Barbara smiled, pushing deep dimples into her cherubic cheeks. “Well, don’t be too long about it. No school doesn’t mean you can stay up all night. You’ll need to get to bed soon.”

Michael squashed a flare of annoyance. Barbara wasn’t trying to nag, but he needed no reminding of the hour, not tonight. “I’ll head up in a minute, Mrs. Wiffle.”

“Barbara, dear.”

“Sorry.”

A discontented snort drew Michael’s attention to the occupant of a navy-blue armchair in the corner, a skinny man in red and white pajamas holding a worn paperback.

“Talking to himself,” Mr. Wiffle muttered, frowning down at his book. “No friends, doesn’t like sports—not healthy, if you ask me.”

“You leave him be, Karl,” Barbara retorted. “Michael’s only been here two weeks. Give him some time.”

Michael grimaced. Mr. Wiffle’s comments didn’t particularly bother him. He’d been a ward of the state of Michigan for eleven years, since his parents had died. Compared to some foster dads, Karl was a soft-spoken creampuff. What did irritate him was the Wiffles’ habit of speaking as if he weren’t in the room.

“Two weeks,” Karl said. “Has he attended one sporting event or party? It’s not healthy, I tell you.”

“He needs time to adjust.”

“Time?” Karl threw up his hands. “Yesterday was the last day of school. How is he supposed to make friends now?”

Michael rolled his eyes. The same old complaints had dogged him for years. Why didn’t he have friends? Why didn’t he sign up for sports? When was he going to start adapting to his new home? He had learned to ignore them, mostly. Tonight, however, the carping grated on him like car keys on a mirror.

“Mark invited me to the park tomorrow,” he blurted. “We’re going to play football with some of his friends.”

The Wiffles looked at him as if surprised to find him still in the room. After a moment, Barbara smiled. “You see, Karl? He’s making friends already.”

Her enthusiasm left a sour taste in Michael’s mouth. He regretted the lie, but he had enough to worry about without their bickering chipping at his frayed nerves. Like so many others, the Wiffles expected him to behave in a certain way. They wanted him to hang out with other kids, go to the movies, or join the wrestling team. But he’d had enough of making new friends, of tying himself to fresh places and people only to be dragged to a new town every three or four years. He had made an exception in Diggs’s case, but he doubted revealing his friendship with the old vagrant would put his foster parents at ease.

“About time, Mike,” Karl grumbled. “Football’s a man’s game.”

“It’s also a rough game,” Barbara warned. “Be careful tomorrow, Michael. Don’t get hurt.”

“I will,” Michael promised.

Barbara the worrier. He only wished he could tell her his secret without having her send him to the nearest mental ward.

The sun dipped low behind Mrs. Finche’s roof, the orb’s rays turning a forbidding red as the night widened its hold. Isolation settled on Michael like a heavy cloak. Why was this happening? The Wiffles would never believe him. He had no one.

He should have stayed in bed.

He bit down on his lip and fought back his tears. Too late for “should haves.” He had to stick to the plan. Stick to the plan, and hope he was alive come morning.

Yep. He should have stayed in bed.

2

The Window (The Previous Night)

Michael lay in his bed, reading a Morbius, the Living Vampire comic beneath the sheets. Propped up by strategically placed pillows, the sheets had become a makeshift tent that perfectly muted the glow of his flashlight. It was also stuffy, so he pulled back the sheets to get some fresh air.

Today had been hot and sticky, making the last day of school drag on almost unbearably.

Julie Schmidt, a girl from his class who stared at him too often with her smoky brown eyes, had invited him and a handful of others to a swim party after school. He had declined. The offer was tempting, but the party was to be held at the rock quarry, an abandoned cavity of solid granite fed by underground springs. Once he got in all that rock, the music would start and…

“All kinds of awkward,” he said aloud.

He’d heard the music of the rock for as long as he could remember, like a small bee buzzing in the back of his mind. Mostly, he ignored the music. But at age seven, his second grade class had gone on a field trip to a cave filled with crystals. The moment he’d stepped inside the cavern, the music had become so loud he’d blacked out. His foster parents at the time had reacted as if Michael had been diagnosed with leprosy. A week later, he was living in a new foster home.

Now, he avoided large stone deposits. The swim party might have been fun, but waking up at the bottom of the quarry would have ruined the afternoon.

He breathed in the night air, welcoming the cool tang on his tongue. A breeze had sprung up after sunset, and it flowed through his open window to chase away the lingering heat. Cooler and more comfortable, he lifted his comic.

Clang!

The noise was tinny and startlingly loud. Michael jerked, dropping the comic. The sound had come from the window.

“The boogeyman, I presume,” he joked.

Goosebumps washed up his arms. Great. Now he would never get back to sleep without first finding out what had caused the noise. He slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the window to investigate.

The back yard was not nearly as dark as he expected. The bright half-moon cast its silvery radiance on the ancient oak outside his window, covering the lawn with a hundred-armed silhouette that clawed at the detached garage with crooked, black fingers. Next to the garage, the garbage stood lined up in three grey trashcans. Tomorrow morning, Karl would carry the cans to the curb to await a Flintville garbage truck. Later in the afternoon, Michael’s job would be to return the emptied containers to the garage.

“In just a week, we get to do it all over again. Behold, we hardy men who fight for cleanliness, hygiene, and the trash-free way.”

He chuckled, and noticed a trashcan lid on the grass. The metal lid could be responsible for the clanging noise. But what had dislodged it?

As if in answer, a black cat leapt out of the darkness to land atop the opened can. The animal sniffed at the trash, pawing at the plastic bag.

Michael winced. So a hungry cat, and not the boogeyman. That was a relief, but Karl was going to pitch a fit when he found garbage scattered across the driveway in the morning. He should wake Karl, or at least try to scare the scavenger away.

Still, he wasn’t supposed to be up this late in the first place. If he woke up the Wiffles, he’d have some explaining to do. He leaned against the window frame and shrugged. A little spilled trash never hurt anyone.

“Enjoy your supper, Frisky. My lips are sealed.”

After a few minutes sniffing the bag, the cat abandoned the trash and hopped down from the can. Back on the ground, the feline made its way toward the deck behind the house.

“Oh, come on. Barbara’s meatloaf isn’t that bad.”

Raised about a foot above the lawn, the deck was directly beneath Michael’s window. Bereft of furniture or food, what had gained the cat’s interest remained a mystery, unless the animal had spotted a chipmunk, or a mouse.

“I don’t blame you. If I had to choose between eating leftover meatloaf or a raw chipmunk, I’d go for the fresh rodent, too.”

The cat froze mid-step, staring up at Michael’s window.

Michael stayed very still, hoping he hadn’t spooked the stray. The cat wasn’t exactly the nature channel, but watching the animal was more stimulating than reading a vampire comic for the third time.

Motionless as an Egyptian statue, the cat stared up at him, eyes glimmering strangely in the moonlight.

An uncomfortable feeling came over Michael. Something wasn’t right. A discordant note buzzed in his head, both like and unlike the quiet music of rock and stone. Before he realized what he was doing, he took a step back from the window. Abruptly, the cat looked away and resumed the interrupted hunt. The wrongness in the air vanished like smoke.

Michael wiped away the thin film of sweat that had appeared on his forehead. No more spooky late-night reading for him. He was starting to freak himself out.

Five feet from the deck, the cat tensed. The puffy tail extended as it stretched its neck forward, testing the air.

Michael held his breath.

A white blur exploded out from beneath the deck, slamming into the cat with the suddenness of a lightning strike. The cat shrieked, tumbling into the shadows of the oak with its assailant in a struggling heap. They thrashed, half-visible in the darkness, growling and hissing as they fought.

Michael squinted, but all he could make out was a roiling mass of white and black.

A feral screech pierced the night, cut wickedly short. A line of dark fluid splashed against the oak.

Michael’s heart hammered in his chest. It had all happened so fast. He hadn’t gotten a decent look at what had come out from under the deck. Was the attacker a dog? It had to be a dog. Someone’s white, rabid, insane pit bull had murdered a cat in his yard. Now he had to wake the Wiffles. With a killer dog in the yard, he wasn’t about to go outside until the Humane Society’s equivalent of a SWAT team arrived to remove the animal.

He was about to fetch his foster parents when the “dog” stepped out of the shadows, standing not on four legs, but two. A bald little man, no more than two feet tall, came into the light, dragging the cat behind him.

Michael’s legs went rubbery, and he took hold of the windowsill to steady himself. “It’s not real.”

His hoarse denial did not banish the pale horror below.

The little man’s alabaster chest shone in the moonlight above a shimmering black kilt that reached down to his knobby knees. His hands and feet were large compared to his ropey frame, and one skinny arm gleamed dark and wet up to his elbow.

Michael’s thumping heart shook his chest like a drum. This had to be a dream, a nightmare.

As if to prove him wrong, three more little men in matching kilts crawled from under the deck to join the first.

Going to his knees, Michael rested his chin on his knuckles and peered down at the pasty gnomes in stark disbelief.

The cat killer tossed the furry carcass toward the others. The four formed a loose circle around the cat, crouching on all fours like monkeys. Their arms seemed disproportionately long for their bodies, and the ease with which they flowed into squatting positions suggested they spent as much time on all fours as on two legs. Together, the sinister quartet sniffed at the cooling corpse.

Michael’s stomach clenched. They were like little killer dolls. Like pasty, homicidal… dollmen.

As if reaching a silent consensus, the dollmen regained their feet together. The three latecomers nodded to the first dollman, and they scattered. They moved with incredible speed, disappearing into the darkness. The first dollman stared after the others for several moments before reaching down for the cat. Without warning, he whirled and peered up at Michael’s window.

Michael dropped to his belly.

Had the dollman seen him? Was the beast staring up at his room right now, waiting for him to stick out his head?

His ragged breathing seemed intolerably loud. He slapped a hand over his mouth and closed his eyes. This couldn’t be happening. A weird black cat had not died in the yard, and there were definitely not four alien, albino elves living under the deck. If he went to bed now, this would all make sense in the morning. He was having a hallucination or something. His imagination had invented the creepy miniature men out of thin air and comic books. This was a dream.

He opened his eyes and glanced up at the window above him. Dollmen didn’t exist. They couldn’t…right?

“Crud.”

He had to be sure. One quick peek, and he’d duck right back down.

“The famous last words of Bambi’s mother,” he muttered.

He took a deep breath, and popped his head above the windowsill. The yard was empty—no sign of the little men, or the dead cat. Nothing. No fur. No blood. He’d imagined the whole thing after all. He managed a quivering laugh. Little white men. Ha! He must be going bonkers. This was almost as bad as when he’d had chicken pox, when he’d thought the tooth fairy was sneaking out of the toilet to steal his lunch money.

He stood and reached to close the window. Even if a band of goblins hadn’t invaded the yard, no way he was leaving the window open tonight. A gust of wind blew through the oak, drawing Michael’s gaze to the swaying branches. The air left his lungs with a soft hiss.

A dollman clung to a branch not ten feet away. His face was nearly human, but flatter, with a pointed chin and wide cheekbones. Where there should have been a nose, two vertical slits rested above unnaturally thin lips. The eyes were the most disturbing—of one color, without pupil or iris, they glimmered like twin pools of liquid mercury in the dark.

Michael pulled at the window, but his arms were like wet noodles. The window stuck.

The dollman looked from the deck to Michael, alien eyes calculating.

The thing was going to jump. The dollman was coming inside!

With a squealing whimper, Michael dragged down on the window with all the strength he could muster, but the frame refused to budge.

The pale lips peeled back, exposing a forest of needle-like fangs the color of grimy glass.

“The sleeping,” the dollman said in a voice like crumbling stone.

Michael jumped back, tripped over his feet, and fell on his butt. This was all a nightmare. He rolled to his hands and knees, scrambled to his bed, and pulled the covers over his head. This was all a nightmare, a nightmare…

Michael shivered beneath the sheets in a fetal ball, waiting for the monster outside to come and take him.

3

Sunset (The Present)

The sun finally disappeared behind Mrs. Finche’s roof.

Michael blinked, and noticed that bright red spots colored the insides of his eyelids. He had been staring at the sun too long. Someone had told him once that made you go blind. He hoped not. After last night, he had enough problems.

Two hours after dawn, he had finally summoned the courage to leave his bed and close the window. The wooden frame had slid down without so much as a squeak. He’d sworn he heard the window laughing at him. After getting dressed, he’d taken his backpack from the closet and filled it with jeans, a sweatshirt, two pairs of socks, fresh underwear, a dozen of his favorite comics, and a mostly full box of chewy chocolate-chip granola bars he kept in his bottom drawer in the event of late-night munchies. He’d tried to add another pair of jeans as well, but the pack had started to look like a swollen balloon. He’d hidden the backpack under his bed and gone downstairs for breakfast.

Since then, he’d loitered about the house and pretended the dollmen under the deck weren’t plotting his demise. The charade proved difficult. He wasn’t much of an actor, and Barbara kept giving him strange looks, as if she suspected something. Maybe she did. That wouldn’t stop him. He had to get out of there. The dollmen would be back. He’d bet his life on it.

Except he couldn’t just make a run for Mexico, or anywhere else far enough away the dollmen were unlikely to follow. The Wiffles would report him missing by supper. Flintville was a small town, with the kind of people who would remember a kid hiking down the road. If he left too soon, the cops would have him back in his room before you could say, “Dollmen think teenagers are yummy.”

To pull off his escape, he needed to get clear of the town before the Wiffles realized he was gone. He had to wait until dark, until after everyone was asleep.

He touched his nose to the window. The surface was cool, and his breath painted a grey film on the glass. Outside, the streetlights flickered on. Almost time.

The television clicked off and Barbara put down the remote.

“Up to bed, dear. You can finish daydreaming in your room.”

A cold shiver crawled up Michael’s spine. “Okay, Mrs. Wiffle,” he agreed halfheartedly, and started for the stairs.

“Is something the matter, Michael? You look pale.”

Karl glanced up from his book. “Probably gave him a case of the pregame jitters. All that talk about football being dangerous. Football is supposed to be dangerous. All the good games are dangerous.”

“I’m a little tired, Mrs. Wiffle,” Michael said. “I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

Barbara eyed him critically for a minute, finally giving a grudging nod. “All right, dear. Go get some sleep.”

“Will do, Mrs. Wiffle. Goodnight.”

“Call me Barbara, dear. Goodnight.”

“Sorry, Barbara,” Michael said. “Goodnight, Mr. Wiffle.”

Karl grunted. “Goodnight, Mike. Don’t stay up all night reading comic books. You got a game tomorrow.”

I’ve got a game tonight, Michael thought darkly as he climbed the stairs. I call the game, “Run for your life, the dollmen are coming!” I’d better win, too, or there won’t be a tomorrow.

4

The Wait

Michael lay under his covers awake and fully clothed, listening for the sound of footsteps making their way down the hall to the Wiffles’ bedroom.

The shadows thickened, transforming his room into a gloomy cave. The sky outside was overcast, the moon’s glow hidden completely behind grey-black clouds. The only light came from beneath the door, a thin bar of brightness shining in from the hall. The Wiffles would turn out that light when they went to bed. He pushed his backpack farther under the covers and waited.

Minutes passed, but no footsteps sounded and the light remained. He shifted his weight and yawned. After an hour, the light under the door began to blur. His eyelids grew heavy. He yawned again. He hadn’t slept a wink last night, and bone-deep exhaustion settled on him like a warm blanket.

Michael pushed himself up on one elbow. Where the heck were the Wiffles? He needed to get out of here soon, or he might as well stick an apple in his mouth and put out the silverware.

He was so tired. If only he could just close his eyes for a minute…

He bit down savagely on the tender inside of his cheek. The sting jolted him. He would not end up a midnight snack for a bunch of bald fairies. The Wiffles had to go to bed eventually. He would wait until they did, give them maybe twenty minutes to fall asleep, and make a break for it.

The light below the door stretched like taffy in a press.

“Gotta stay awake,” he whispered. “Gotta… Have to…”

His head touched the pillow, and he floated on a cloud of white sheets into oblivion.

5

Earth and Bone

Michael’s eyes snapped open, and he sat up so fast that his head spun and his stomach clenched in a nauseating knot. The room was pitch-black, the light under the door gone.

The blankets had cooked him in his clothes. He was soaked with sweat. Tossing aside his covers, he groped for his backpack. He had to leave now, before it was too late.

A soft wind blew against his face, chilling his wet cheeks and forehead. He froze. He’d closed the window in the morning. Where was the breeze coming from?

Scritch.

The noise sounded like an ice pick scraping the floor, and came from the direction of the window.

Scooting up to his headboard, Michael stared blindly into the darkness. “Hello?”

Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.

The scratching drew closer. Terror gripped Michael with an iron fist. Not ice-pick claws, dollman claws on his hardwood floor. They had come for him. He wanted to scream, to run. But he couldn’t. He was petrified, frozen in place by silver-eyed demons he couldn’t even see.

Scritch. Scritch.

He blinked furiously, wondering why his eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness. Had he gone blind? No. It was something else. There was an oily thickness to the air, like an odorless, tasteless smoke that suffocated the light. Stranger and stranger.

Scritch. Scritch.

Abruptly, the sounds stopped.

“Greetings, Sleeper,” said a gravelly voice.

Michael jerked back, banging his skull on the headboard. “Who…who’s there?”

“We are the People. We are the seekers of the sleeping. We are the guardians of the earth and bone. This one found you last night.”

Oh, crud! The dollman from the oak tree.

“What…what do you want?”

“The People have heard you, Sleeper. We hear the calling in your blood. The People have come to awaken you.”

“Well, I’m wide awake now,” said Michael. “Good job. I guess you can get going then.”

“No. You are the sleeping, but you must awake. The Fallen draw near, Sleeper. They seek the earth and bone. You must awake!”

For just a moment, plain annoyance overcame Michael’s fear. “I said I’m already awake. Listen, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you’re going to eat me, stop screwing around and get it over with. The suspense is killing me.”

“You must awake!”

A vice-like grip closed on his wrist, and something hard and cool pressed into his palm.

“What—?”

“Take the cup, Sleeper. Drink of the earth and bone, and you shall awake.”

Michael closed his fingers. The cup was stone. He’d known that much the instant the thing touched his skin. But the stone was unlike any he’d held before. The hum in his head buzzed like a nest of angry hornets, building inside him. The music was too strong. He couldn’t think.

“Take it away,” Michael gasped. “Too loud.”

He tried to drop the cup, but small fingers pressed his hand over the curved stone, lifting the singing cup toward his face.

“Drink.”

“Let go,” Michael pleaded. “Something is happening. Stop, please.”

“The stonesong awakes, Sleeper. All will be well. Drink.”

The cup touched his lips and a chainsaw roar filled his skull. “Stop.”

“This one cannot, Sleeper. The Fallen come. You must awake. Drink.”

Cool liquid poured into his mouth, and tingling swept across his tongue like an electric charge. The humming in his brain muted beneath the tingle, and his thoughts turned fuzzy and disconnected.

“Drink.” The command rolled over him like an ocean wave…heavy, demanding, irresistible.

He swallowed, and tingling numbness flowed down his throat and spread through his body. The hum in his brain began to change, growing outward, stretching, opening up like a flower in the rain.

“Drink, Sleeper. Awake to your destiny.”

Tilting back his head, he drained the cup dry. Numbness covered him, and the cup dropped from his fingers. He felt light, loose, and so very tired.

“It is done,” the dollman said. “Behold my people, the Awoken.”

“Behold, the Awoken,” echoed a host of gravelly voices.

Judging by the number of voices, Michael realized his room must be packed with dollmen. Oddly enough, what should have been a terror-inspiring revelation left him strangely unfazed.

Small electric surges, comforting and thrilling, flowed through him as his head touched the pillow.

“Quickly, Awoken, before the water takes you. You must be warned.” The dollman sounded distant, as if he were speaking from the bottom of a well. “Beware the hunters, Awoken. Already one has come. Do you hear?”

Michael blinked sleepily. “I hear you. I’m listening.”

“The Ven come, Awoken. They must not find you. The People must flee this place.”

“You…you’re leaving?”

“The Ven must not find the Awoken. The People will lead them away from here. We will return when the danger has passed.” Hands slipped over his head and draped a thin chain around his neck. “Keep the waystone close until we return, Awoken, and beware.”

“Beware? I don’t understand.”

“You will know them by their colors—green of moss and brown of soil. One of each, you must beware. Remember, Awoken. Remember the colors of the Ven.”

Michael’s tongue moved clumsily in his mouth. “What…are…Ven?’”

“They are the hunters of blood, and the earth and bone, spawn of the Betrayer. Remember, Awoken, one green, one brown.”

Michael wanted to ask the dollman more, but his lips wouldn’t open. Slowly, his eyes drifted closed.

“Rest now, Awoken,” whispered a faraway voice. “Rest, but do not forget the colors of the Fallen. The Ven bring death.”

The dire words followed Michael into the world of dreams, and he knew no more.

6

Sounds of the Mermaid

Karl’s hatchback smelled of antifreeze and coffee, a natural result of a leaking radiator hose coupled with Karl’s habit of placing his coffee on the dash rather than a cup holder. Not a pleasant smell, but at least the Wiffles didn’t smoke.

“You tackle the big ‘uns low,” Karl instructed. “Not at the knees, but the thighs. From the side, not the front. Throws ‘em off balance. Understand?”

Michael nodded mechanically. “Uh-huh.”

In his true element, Karl had been spouting football pointers nonstop since they had left the house. He took a sip of his coffee and set the cup back on the dash. “You’re thin for a boy your age, but that don’t matter if you’re smart. You listen to me, and you’ll be fine.”

Michael leaned against the passenger window, absently fingering the mud-brown stone that hung below his throat, hidden by his shirt.

It was oval-shaped, and about half the size of his thumb. He’d discovered the stone on a thin black chain draped around his neck when he woke up this morning, a parting gift from the dollmen.

“You keep the ball tight to your chest when you’re running,” Karl continued gruffly. “And none of that fancy dancing around you see on television. Real men take a tackle head-on. A solid hit builds character, by God.”

“Builds hospitals, too,” Michael muttered.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Michael said more loudly. “You know I could have walked, Mr. Wiffle. I know the way.”

Karl grunted. “No trouble. The park is on my way.”

Michael grimaced. This sucked. Okay. The imaginary football game had been his idea, but after last night, having to deal with the consequences of his little white lie seemed cosmically unfair. He should have said he was going to play Frisbee golf. Karl would never have driven him to a Frisbee golf match. Not manly enough.

A brown wooden sign with yellow lettering appeared just ahead.

“Glenview Park,” Karl said. “Fix your hair, Mike. You look a mess. There’s a mirror under the visor.”

Michael sighed. Since when did personal grooming become an important part of playing football? He flipped down the visor.

A pair of silver eyes looked back at him.

“Ahhh!”

Karl slammed on the brakes. The coffee left the dash, splashing lukewarm contents all over Karl’s white shirt and onto his lap.

Tires squealing, the hatchback skidded to a stop.

Holding the wheel in a deathlike grip, Karl scanned the street. “What? Is something in the road?”

“I…I thought I saw…” Michael stared into the mirror, seeing only his own dark brown eyes. They had been silver, hadn’t they? As silver as the eyes of the dollman.

Karl peered at him. “You thought you saw what?”

Michael slapped up the visor. “A…deer, coming out of the park. I thought we were going to hit a deer.”

Karl frowned at the pines and balsam surrounding Glenview Park. “I don’t see any deer.”

“A big one, with horns,” Michael elaborated. “You must have scared it back into the trees when you stopped the car.”

“Horns, huh? The Department of Natural Resources isn’t doing its job. Getting so a man can’t step outside without some beast or other jumping out of the bushes.”

“You have no idea.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.” Michael opened the passenger door and a wall of heat struck him like a hammer. “You’re going to have to hurry if you want to change that shirt before work. I can walk from here.”

Karl lifted the wet garment from his chest with two fingers. “Great. All right, you go on. Have fun. See you tonight.”

“See ya.”

Michael waved and Karl pulled away. The sun was warm against his hand—another scorcher today. The hatchback disappeared around the corner, and he headed into the park.

Glenview was a large park, with lots of trees along with a well-kept football and baseball field. The park even had a bit of artistic appeal in the form of a large marble fountain, complete with a water-spitting mermaid and pool. He headed for the fountain. If he had to stay here all day, he might as well hang out where he could cool his feet.

Ten minutes later, he looked down at his reflection in the fountain’s pool. The water was sparklingly clear, the mermaid’s spout causing only small ripples to mar the surface. Karl had been right about his hair. He was a mess. Dipping his fingers in the water, he raked them through the tangles. Getting a little on the shaggy side. Wouldn’t be long now before he would need to pay a visit to Karl’s barber. Michael was naturally tan, with skin more almond than brown. One of his foster families had suggested he had a touch of Native American ancestry. Might even be true. He rarely sunburned. Average height for his age, Barbara accused him of being too skinny. Other than that, Michael was like any other fourteen-year-old.

“Just like any other kid with vicious, cat-killing albinos living under their deck, I guess. As normal as the next kid who has to watch out for the green and brown, because they’re the colors of the Ven. Whatever that means.”

Why couldn’t the dollman have been a little more specific? Something was after him, and all he had to go on was “beware the green and brown.” He might as well be watching out for a killer vegetable garden.

He leaned against the edge of the fountain.

Humming music exploded in his mind.

He jumped back, and the music died.

What the…?

The music in the marble fountain was louder than anything he’d heard before, louder than when he’d stepped inside that cave in second grade. Slowly, he laid his palm back against the stone. The music was different, like a merging, a tangible sense of connection between him and the marble. His mind opened, and suddenly he could feel the rock, every sinuous curve and turn. He was the fountain…most of it, anyway. The metal piping inside the mermaid he sensed as a soundless void tangling within the humming rock. He could not feel the metal, only the absence of sound.

What was happening to him?

The dollmen’s cup. Whatever they’d given him had changed the music, allowing him to join with the song of the rock. The dollmen had said the stonesong was awaking.

The fountain trembled. The mermaid spat a sudden torrent of water far out over the basin.

“What are you doing here?” someone asked behind Michael.

Michael spun.

A dozen teens on dirt bikes formed a loose half-circle behind him.

“I’m sorry?”

One of the teens, a towering boy with piggish eyes and a short crew cut, heeled down his kickstand. “I’ll just bet you are.” He got off the bike, walking over to Michael. “I said, ‘What are you doing here?’”

Several of the teens laughed. Others shouted encouragements to the adolescent giant.

“Get him, Billy. Show him the beast! Beat the brakes off him!”

The suggestions were varied, and often creative, but all revolved around the general theme of mangling and broken bones.

Great, Michael thought, as if things aren’t bad enough.

“Leave him alone, Billy,” said a green-eyed girl on a dirty mountain bike. Blowing long strands of coal-black hair from her eyes, she hefted a wooden baseball bat. “I came to play baseball, not to pick on some loser.”

Billy gave her a sour look. “There’s always time to pick on losers, Lina. Go cry to your nanny if you don’t want to watch.”

The girl’s knuckles whitened as she tightened her grip on the bat. “Watch it.”

“Or what, rich girl? You gonna take a swing?”

Lina snorted, lowering the bat. “Don’t be stupid, Billy. I like this bat, and your rock head would probably break it.”

They glared at each other.

Michael began to inch away. “Uh…I can see you guys have a few issues to work out. I’ll just leave you to it.”

A heavy palm slapped against his chest.

“You’re not going anywhere, loser.” Billy drew back a ham-like fist. “Not until you learn whose park you’re in.”

Michael braced himself. Here we go. The fist cracked into his cheek, sending a bright bolt of pain into his jaw and head. He stumbled back, clutching the rim of the fountain to keep from falling. The stonesong swept out from him in a rush. The fountain trembled under his palms, and a spiderweb of cracks shot up the mermaid’s tail.

“Knock it off!” shouted Lina. Tossing the bat to the ground, she started forward. “Knock it off, Billy!”

Some of Billy’s posse pointed at the cracks, murmuring to each other uncertainly as the cracks spread up the statue’s torso.

“Stay out of my park, loser.” Billy swung at him again.

Michael closed his eyes and the fist landed with the wet crackle of breaking bone, but astonishingly, he felt no pain. The stonesong surged, and the music became a wailing shriek before the mermaid shattered like a crystal vase on an anvil.

Michael opened his eyes. Everyone was staring at him.

Billy cradled his fist against his chest, his face white as a sheet. “How…what are you?”

“Did you see his eyes?” someone whispered. “They were like metal. His eyes changed to metal and the fountain broke in a million pieces.”

Billy lumbered back to his bike. Grabbing his handlebars with his good hand, he awkwardly mounted and began to pedal away without bothering with the kickstand. His friends were right behind him.

All that was left of the mermaid was a bent copper framework that spurted out water in hissing, pressurized, streams. Shattered bits of marble decorated the bottom of the basin, but the water was still clear enough for Michael to see his reflection, and the mercury color of his eyes.

“Figures,” he said. “Frigging dollmen.”

His head spun, and bile rose in his throat. He folded and became noisily sick on the grass.

“Gross. What did you have for breakfast? Chili?”

Michael wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked up at the girl Billy had called Lina. She wore jeans, a grass-stained baseball jersey, and scuffed tennis shoes. She sure didn’t dress like a rich girl. She leaned on her baseball bat and smiled down at him. “So, you’re one of the Wiffles’ foster kids? I used to see you around at school. I’m Melina, but everyone calls me Lina. What’s your name?”

“Uh…Michael. You can call me Mike.”

“Pleased to meet you.” She gave a nod to the broken mermaid. “How did you do that?”

“I…” he paused to dry-heave. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Mike. The silver eyes, the fountain, Billy’s hand…” Lina’s grin turned wicked. “Tell me how, and I might not tell the police where you live.”

7

Melina’s Treasure

Lina glared at the boy with the most irritated expression she could muster. He was kind of cute, she thought, even with the weird eyes…in a skinny, dark, and scary kind of way. “Come on, spill. What’s with the eyes? Are they contacts or something?”

The boy looked away. “Go away.”

Why was he being so difficult? Were orphans all this stubborn, or just this one? He had to live in a foster home. Well, whoop-tee-do. At least he had someone there to take care of him. She had to make do with her eighty-three-year-old nanny, Harriet Findleshin, while her parents vacationed in the Alps. The old crackpot couldn’t cook toast. If Lina weren’t going to dance camp in a couple weeks, she would probably starve.

The boy blinked, and his silver eyes were suddenly a normal brown. Another trick.

“So you can change them back and forth,” she said. “What’s next? Are you going to pull a rabbit from a hat?”

“They’re brown again?” Michael bent over the fountain. “Thank God. Barbara would have had a heart attack.”

Lina rolled her eyes. “Knock it off, already. You might have fooled Billy, but he’s a moron. Do you really expect me to believe you’re some kind of Criss Angel? You gonna freak my mind?”

“I don’t care what you think.” He splashed water on his face and neck, and wiped the grime from his mouth. “Nice meeting you, Melina. Bye.”

“Is the magic show over already?”

“How about we end with a disappearing act? I’ll count to three, and every annoying girl in the park will vanish. One…two…” He raised an eyebrow at her. “No? Guess I’ll have to work on that one.”

Lina’s cheeks flushed with anger. “Why are you being such a jerk, Mike? All I want is to know how you did those things.”

“You said that, Lina. You also said you’d tell the cops if I didn’t tell you. Nice way to make friends.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have vandalized the fountain,” she retorted. “I’ll tell the police, you jerk.”

A misting of silver covered Michael’s eyes. Queasy uncertainty fluttered in Lina’s belly. That was some trick.

“I’ll tell them,” she said. “I swear.”

The silver flickered and disappeared. The boy grinned. “You’re going to tell the police you saw a kid with silver eyes break a statue?” He started to walk toward the trees. “Good luck, Melina. Have fun in the mental ward.”

Lina felt her cheeks growing hot with anger. “You’re just going to leave? You’re not even going to tell me how you did those things?”

“I don’t know.” He broke into a jog.

“Liar!” she yelled after him, but he had already disappeared into the trees. “What a tool.”

Lina started back to her bike, then paused, spotting a shiny black chain in the grass. She knelt and lifted the necklace. The chain held a brown pendant with a small chip that sparkled in the sun. On a hunch, she dipped the pendant into the fountain and rubbed it between her palms. A layer of clay broke away, turning the water muddy brown. The water slowly cleared, revealing a jewel mounted in a ring of glimmering silver.

Lina gasped. The chain held an oval diamond almost an inch long. She scrubbed harder, and something cut into her palm.

“Ow!”

There was a flash of light, and suddenly, she was lying on her back.

What happened?

She sat up slowly, feeling…weird. A thousand tickly ants crawled beneath her skin, and her palm throbbed painfully. The last thing she remembered was scrubbing the pendant. There had been a sting of pain. Then she was on her back.

She lifted her burning hand up to take a look. A broken chain slipped from her fingers, and cold terror froze her blood.

“What the—?!”

Silvery metal surrounded the jewel that was now embedded in her palm, spreading thread-thin tendrils of the metal into her skin like tiny roots.

“Holy crap on a plate!”

She clawed at the diamond, scraping the jewel with her fingernails until blood welled and hot pain shot up her arm. Neither the jewel nor silver came free.

Lina screamed.

8

Cats and Crows

Michael peeked out of the brush to check the street. No police cars, that was good. No pedestrians either, even better.

He stepped out of the brush in one smooth motion. The cement sidewalk hummed under his feet. He ignored the music while he brushed the clinging twigs and leaves from his shirt, then started walking.

Keeping an eye out for the flashing lights of a police car, he tried to walk nonchalantly. The girl, Lina, hadn’t liked him very much. She might really tell the cops about the fountain, even if the admission would make her sound like a nut. Plus, Billy had messed up his hand pretty good.

He rubbed his cheek. The skin didn’t feel hard enough to break someone’s hand. The incident had to have something to do with the stonesong. Rock-hard skin, silver eyes, dollmen in his room, exploding statues—things were getting a little too much like a Supernatural episode for comfort. Time to get some advice, and from someone who wouldn’t dismiss his wild story as the delusional ravings of an unbalanced orphan. Time to talk to Diggs. The drifter’s camp was down next to the river by the old Main Street bridge. If he hurried, he could be there within the hour.

The hot sun beat down on him as he walked. Before long, sweat covered his forehead and dampened his armpits. “Should have worn shorts.”

Suddenly, he felt an uncomfortable itch between his shoulder blades. He searched the street behind him. Empty. But he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling he was being watched. Maybe he was getting paranoid.

Just then, he noticed a black cat sitting in the branches of an elm tree just ahead. The cat was staring right at him, and so was the large crow perched on the branch beside the feline. The animals sat so close that fur brushed feather, but neither reacted to the proximity of the other.

The hairs on the back of Michael’s neck gave a nervous prickle. “Okay. Even by my recently rising standards, that’s creepy.”

He kept walking, and was a dozen yards from the tree when the crow took flight with an explosive burst of flapping wings.

“Good riddance.”

Michael glanced at the cat as he passed under the tree, and his breath caught in his throat. The cat’s eyes were two different colors. One green, the other brown.

You will know them by their colors, green of moss, and brown of soil. One of each, you must beware.

Green and brown, the colors of the Ven.

“No frigging way.”

Staring down at him with its mismatched eyes, the cat opened its mouth and hissed, “Pry-mare-eeeee.”

Michael ran.

9

Diggs

Pry-mare-eeeee.

The impossible voice of the black cat echoing in his ears, Michael ran.

Dollmen were sneaking into his room at night. He was turning into a silver-eyed freak who could break statues with his mind. And now he found out the Ven were talking devil cats that hung out with crows and had mismatched eyes. He needed help. He needed to find Diggs.

The sidewalk sang under his slapping heels, and the stonesong inside him reached out for the music. He fought the music. He wasn’t sure how, but he pulled the stonesong back, keeping the power inside and away from the concrete. The stonesong was stubborn, refusing to be reined in for long before surging out again.

He jumped the curb and tore across an intersection. Diggs’s camp was just a few blocks ahead. He hoped he could hold on that long. Mastering the stonesong was like grasping a greasy eel—a slippery task, and distracting.

A horn blared in his ears. He twisted to his right, and saw a black sedan bearing down upon him at reckless speed. The car was so close he could make out the green, tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the mirror. There was no time to dodge.

A gnarled hand snatched his collar and yanked him from the car’s path. The black sedan never slowed. Tires squealing, the car careened around the next corner without signaling and disappeared.

The shaggy man who’d saved Michael gave a disgusted grunt. “Blasted Sunday drivers,” he complained. “They see about as well as a blind rhino, and are twice as dangerous. You okay, Mike?”

“Diggs,” Michael breathed. “It’s you.”

Diggs bowed at the waist. “In the flesh.”

Despite the heat, the wiry drifter was wearing jeans and a worn corduroy jacket. His snowy white hair was in a long ponytail that reached down to his lower back, and a steel belt buckle in the shape of a jaguar head adorned his waist. His eyes were a piercing blue and sparkled with a youth at odds with his tanned, weathered face.

“Thanks a lot, man,” Michael said with feeling. “I almost bought it.”

Diggs grinned. “Crudely spoken, but accurate, I’d say.”

Like Michael, Diggs had only been staying in Flintville a couple of weeks. He was a drifter, a migrant handyman who’d put down shallow roots here for reasons only he could know. They’d met at the library and hit it off immediately. The life of a homeless vagabond held a strange appeal for Michael, who couldn’t remember having a permanent home himself. As for Diggs, he seemed delighted to have someone to talk with. Camping out by the river hadn’t made the man many friends in Flintville.

When the vagabond wasn’t fishing or reading, he would pick up the odd job to “pay the bills.” He was a true jack-of-all-trades, and seemed to know a bit about everything worth knowing. Fixing cars, landscaping, dish washing—he attacked all the tasks with the same air of general good humor.

“I would have thought you’d have guessed who saved you,” Diggs remarked mischievously. “Nobody else around here likes you enough to pull your butt out of traffic.”

“Thanks a lot.”

Diggs’s smile faltered. “Your mouth is bleeding.”

Michael put a finger to his lip and winced. Billy must have given him the cut. He hadn’t even noticed. “Diggs, you have to help me,” he said in a rush. “There was a talking cat, and the fountain broke, and the music…the music is everywhere! The noise won’t stop!”

“Whoa, Mike. Settle down for a second.”

“I can’t settle down!” Michael stomped his foot on the humming pavement. “Can you hear that? No? Well, I can. And guess what else? Little white men are running around killing talking cats, and crawling through my window into my room at night. The mermaid is dead, and Billy’s got a busted hand. Do you get what I’m telling you? I’m totally losing it, man!”

“What are you talking…?” Diggs’s eyes grew wide. “Little men came into your room? Did they give you anything? Did they make you drink from a stone cup?”

“Yes. I was in my bed and…” Michael trailed off, taking a long step back from the drifter. “How did you know about the cup, Diggs?”

“Mike, listen—”

“Don’t touch me!” Michael backed away even further. “Did you already know about the dollmen? Did you?”

“Shhh,” Diggs hissed. “Lower your voice, and let me explain.”

Anger surged through Michael, and flickers of silver light began to bleed from his sneakers into the concrete around his shoes. “Explain? You want to explain?” A manhole cover up the street popped into the air like a champagne cork. “How can you explain this?”

Diggs darted forward. Grabbing Michael’s shirt, he lifted him from the street and flung him onto the grass.

The stonesong’s connection to the pavement broke like an overextended rubber band. Michael struggled not to vomit. The sudden break made his head ache, and his stomach was churning madly.

Eyes blazing, Diggs jabbed his finger into the center of Michael’s chest. “You are going to calm down. Otherwise, I’m going to drag you down to the river and throw you in. Understand me?”

Michael gulped. He’d never seen Diggs like this, so angry, so…wild.

“Just because I know about the People doesn’t mean I had anything to do with what is happening to you,” Diggs snarled. “I can explain, Mike, even help you. But you have to listen to me. Do you understand?”

Michael gave a shaky nod. “Sorry, Diggs. I just…” He scrubbed his face with his palm. “I don’t know. I guess all this is starting to freak me out.”

Diggs’s threatening demeanor softened. “You’re not the only one, kid.” He helped Michael to his feet. “I never expected this either. The People…I had no idea they’d come here looking for you. They came last night?”

“Yes. They gave me something to drink. Ever since—”

“You’ve been able to fuse with rock,” Diggs finished. “I know. The stonesong’s in you all right.”

Michael’s jaw dropped. “You know about that? Does that mean you have the stonesong, too?”

Diggs chuckled. “No. You’ve a rare talent, Mike. That’s why the People, the ones you call the dollmen, have been looking for you. Their mission seems to have been to bring your talent to full potential.” He gestured to the dislodged manhole cover. “That was reckless, by the way. You shouldn’t use the stonesong so carelessly. Its power is dangerous.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Michael replied sarcastically. “It’s not like I did it on purpose. You should see the fountain at the park.”

“The one with the mermaid?”

“Not anymore.”

Diggs threw up his hands. “Are you crazy? What if someone saw you?”

“Umm…”

“You’re not serious. Someone saw you use the stonesong?”

Michael crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t get a manual with this, Diggs. I can’t control what I do. That’s why I need to undo whatever the dollmen did to me. Can you help me?”

Diggs’s shaggy eyebrows pinched together. “I’ve been helping the People for some time now, but I’m not one of them. I know rather a bit about the stonesong, but by no means everything. Sorry.”

“What am I gonna do, Diggs? The stonesong keeps trying to grab onto rock, like at the park. I can’t control it.”

“What do you mean? The waystone is supposed to…” Diggs frowned. “Where’s your waystone?”

“My what?”

“A jewel that acts like a filter, or an antenna. The waystone prevents the stonesong from lashing out, gives you control. The People must have given you one.”

“I don’t think so.”

“They must have. Think, Mike—a jewel mounted in a setting of silver earthbone, covered in baked clay, shaped in a necklace or bracelet most likely.”

“You mean this necklace?” asked Michael, reached toward his throat. “Hey! Where’d it go?”

Diggs paled. “You lost the waystone? Bells and hells, Mike! Without the necklace, the stonesong will try to fuse with every rock you come across.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“The understatement of the year,” said Diggs. “The stonesong is just waking up, and you’re already having trouble with control. In a couple of months, you’re going to be ten times as strong. You’ll be a walking earthquake by the end of the summer.”

“That really doesn’t sound good at all.” Michael thought for a moment. “I had the necklace this morning. I must have lost it in the park, probably when Billy took a swing at me.”

Diggs scratched at his scraggily whiskers. “Then that’s where we’ll start looking.”

“Okay. What about the cat?”

“What cat?”

Michael took a deep breath. “Okay. This is going to sound nuts. But on my way here, I saw a black cat sitting in a tree with a crow. The crow left, but then the cat…well, it called me a name or something.”

The blood drained from Diggs’s face. “Tell me the cat didn’t have green and brown eyes, Mike. Please, tell me the cat didn’t have green and brown eyes.”

A cloud drifted over the sun, covering them in foreboding shadow.

Michael shivered. “The dollman warned me about something, Diggs. The cat was a Ven, wasn’t it?”

Diggs’s eyes looked haunted. “They come in many forms. The cat is one of their lesser creations, a tracker. So was the crow. Where and when did you see them?”

“A couple of blocks back, maybe five minutes ago. The cat called me a ‘primer’ or ‘pee-merry.’”

“Primary?”

“That might have been the word.”

Diggs cursed under his breath. “Worse than I imagined. You had better go home, Mike. Keep out of sight. I’ll contact you as soon as I can.”

“Back home? I need your help.”

Diggs took a small medicine bottle from his coat pocket and popped off the cap. “That’s what I’m trying to do, Mike.” Pouring two white pills from the bottle, he tossed them into his mouth and swallowed them dry. “You lie low while I try to find the waystone and contact the People. With Ven so close, we have to be careful. And don’t tell anyone about any of this, especially your foster parents. Bad enough that Ven has noticed you; the less your guardians know, the safer they will be.”

Michael scowled. “So I’m just supposed to chill at my house while you go out dollman hunting? What kind of plan is that?”

“The kind that keeps you breathing.” Diggs walked away. “The People and I have been dodging Ven trackers awhile now. We know what to look for, and what to avoid. You know squat. Try to stay on the grass until you’ve had more practice with the stonesong. I’ll contact you when it’s safe. And, Mike, be ready.”

“Ready for what?”

Somewhere nearby, a crow cawed, then another, and another, filling the air with raucous racket.

Diggs looked up at the sky, and then at Michael. “To run.”

10

Fishing

Equinox held the plastic shaker poised above the tropic-warm water, tapping one, two, three times. He watched the blue and orange fish closely as they sluggishly pecked at the yellowish, uneven flakes. The fish appeared distracted today, uncertain in their feeding. They acted almost as if their primitive minds had noted their master’s mood.

“Do you feel something amiss, little ones? You seem rather agitated. Is it possible you somehow sense my own emotional state?”

Unlikely, but then the fishes’ proximity to his experiments could not be ignored. Despite exhaustive precautions, they might have been exposed at some point. The possibility bore looking into.

The computer monitor at his desk chirped. “Dr. Equinox?” inquired a polite female voice.

Equinox didn’t turn from the fish. “Yes, Colleen?”

“Belua Nabal has arrived, Doctor. Also, your ten o’clock is waiting on line two.”

“Excellent.”

Setting the fish food on the shelf next to the aquarium, he straightened his pristine white lab coat, then took a seat at his desk. The office wasn’t large but, like Equinox, it radiated a sense of strict professionalism. The walls were the dull color of wet cement, bare of pictures or his many awards. Aside from the fifty-gallon aquarium kept on a featureless Plexiglas stand, the desk and two chairs were the only furniture.

Opening a drawer, he removed a roughly shaped cup of grey stone embedded with tiny silver flecks and set the item on his desk. Nabal would recognize the cup. The belua had delivered it only yesterday.

“Inform the party on line two I shall be available shortly, Colleen. And send in Belua Nabal.”

“At once, Dr. Equinox.”

Equinox allowed himself a slight smile. Equinox wasn’t his real name, but given the nature of his research revealing his true identity wouldn’t have been practical.

The door to his office opened, and Nabal stepped into the room. The belua had a deep, barrel-like chest and wide, heavy shoulders, hinting at his remarkable strength and athleticism. His face was smooth-shaven and tanned. As always, he wore a pair of dark sunglasses, but Equinox had no doubt that Nabal’s gaze was glued to the cup, and had been from the moment he’d walked into the room—no doubt wondering why the cup was here, rather than in one of Research and Development’s time-locked, hermetically sealed vaults.

“You wanted to see me, Dr. Equinox?”

Nabal’s voice was a disarming honeyed drawl, inviting as lemonade on a hot summer day. Equinox made a mental note to promote the speech analyst who’d instructed the belua.

“Belua Nabal, good of you to come,” Equinox said. He didn’t offer the belua a chair, but gestured instead toward the cup. “I wanted to thank you personally for obtaining this. As you know, our supply of earthbone has run dangerously low. Congratulations are in order.”

Nabal smiled. “Thank you, Doctor. I was only doing my job.”

The belua’s pride was obvious, and Equinox gave an inward sigh. He’d hoped for more, but Nabal obviously had not the slightest inkling of his failure.

Such a promising melding, he thought. But there always seemed to room for improvement.

“False modesty is a difficult and often useless trait, Belua Nabal,” he chastised mildly. He would need to be firm now. “In your particular case, however, perhaps worth the effort. Failure is not something with which I am comfortable or tolerant.”

Nabal’s smile drooped a little. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“No? Well, perhaps I can clear things up for you. When one of our urban units flat-lined, I sent you out to investigate. Do you recall your objectives?”

“I was to determine if the primaries had eliminated our unit,” Nabal answered immediately.

“And?”

“And, if the primaries were involved, track them down and retrieve any earthbone they might be carrying.” Nabal nodded to the cup. “I still fail to see the problem. I tracked our downed unit’s GPS tag, engaged the primaries, and retrieved the earthbone. The mission was a complete success.”

Equinox shook his head. “Your mission, Nabal, was to track and capture the primaries. Retrieval of the earthbone was desirable, but of secondary concern. Therefore, a complete success would have involved you bringing back all of the primaries to this facility, alive. Indeed, I would have considered even one living primary more valuable than this cup.”

“There were eighteen of them, Doctor, and they resisted. I lost men and hounds.”

“Fifteen hounds and six good agents to be precise,” Equinox said. “Yes. I’ve read the report. Significant losses—and pointless, absent the capture of a living primary target.”

Nabal crossed his arms. “I was doing my job. Capturing even one of the little bastards would have cost us dearly in resources. We can’t have more than a few hundred hounds ready for the field, and about half that many belua. How many of them did you want me to waste catching one of your precious primaries?”“

Equinox tented his fingers before him. “Even now you do not see, and that is what troubles me the most. I fear your animal half has won out over your human reason, Belua Nabal.”

“Sir?”

“You are still failing to grasp the larger picture. Either you are being willfully ignorant, or your medication is in need of adjustment. All the human hybrids share certain…urges. Given your actions, I fear it was a mistake allowing you to lead this mission.”

“I’ve kept up my doses, sir,” Nabal argued. “I’m in complete control.”

“I think not, Nabal. Cruel as it may sound, we have hounds and agents to spare. What we desperately need is earthbone. Indeed, the cup on my desk is the largest single mass of the element we possess.”

“And I brought the thing here,” Nabal barked.

“You did,” Equinox agreed. “I have already congratulated you on that accomplishment. With careful monitoring, this item may keep our research viable for another year. What then, I ask you? Without the primaries to guide us, we may never find the main deposit.”

“I don’t…we’ll find more,” the belua suggested lamely.

“Oh? From where, exactly? The home of the primaries is the only known source of the element, and we have yet to locate the entrance.” Equinox’s eyes hardened. “Do you begin to understand?”

“The saturation levels in the air—”

“Are not high enough to track back to the source, and might not be for years. You’ve failed me,” Equinox said. “Moreover, you’ve jeopardized my research. Do you understand what that means? This world is dying, belua. War, famine, disease—they eat away at us all, consuming us like cancer. I am attempting to change all that, trying to save a world from itself.” As he spoke, Equinox’s eyes seemed to catch the light for a moment, flashing like tiny magnesium flares. “I have given my entire life to this cause, sacrificed more than you will ever know, and your reckless bloodlust may have cost us everything. Your mission, belua, was to capture the primaries, not to slaughter them.”

Nabal paled.

Equinox paused, closing his eyes for a moment as he gathered himself. He was allowing himself to grow angry, and that was unacceptable. This catastrophe was not Nabal’s fault, not entirely. Still, the belua’s recent behavior suggested a highly improper level of self-importance. What Nabal required was a pointed reminder of his place in the scheme of things.

Yes. A firm hand was essential here.

Equinox opened his eyes, regarding the belua with a carefully constructed expression of weary disdain.

“Despite your mistakes,” he began, “you did well bringing me the cup.” He reached into his desk and removed a yellow envelope, sliding the folio toward the pale belua. “Consequently, I’ve decided not to have you liquidated.” Perhaps that was a bit much, but Equinox hoped the implied brush with death would assist to reinforce his authority over the erratic belua. “Moreover, I’m giving you the chance to redeem yourself.”

Nabal swallowed shakily. “Thank you, doctor.”

“In that file you’ll find recorded GPS coordinates of the urban unit you tracked to the primaries, including the unit’s exact location when it died. I want you to go there.”

“What will I be looking for?” Nabal inquired hesitantly. “We already recovered the unit’s cadaver and the cup.”

“That’s why I’m sending you. You followed the GPS chip right to the target. Didn’t you find it odd you found the primaries so easily?”

“Not especially. The primaries made the mistake of taking the tracker’s body with them. They’ve never done that before.”

“Exactly. So why did they make that mistake this time?”

Nabal’s face darkened. “They were leading us. The runts knew we could track the body. They were leading us away from something.”

Equinox leaned back in his chair. “Maybe there’s hope for you after all, Nabal. I want you to go to those coordinates. Flintville, Michigan. Find out what the primaries were trying to hide. Whatever you discover, I want you to speak with me before making any more costly decisions.”

Nabal took the file. “I will, doctor. You won’t regret this.”

“I had better not,” said Equinox coldly. “Assemble a scout crew and contact me with an update by the end of the week. Contain and capture teams will follow if you discover anything of importance.”

Sticking the file under his arm, Nabal nodded and exited the room.

Equinox rose from his chair and walked over to the aquarium. The fish were now darting about like tiny comets, attacking the flakes he’d put in earlier with hungry abandon. Like him, they appeared more relaxed.

“Curious.”

The intercom chirped.

“Yes, Colleen?”

“Line two is still on hold, Dr. Equinox. Shall I patch him through?”

Equinox watched the fish, calculating in his mind the overall likelihood of their contamination. “Tell the general I’m indisposed. However, assure him that I’ve looked over his tests and remain confident his pancreatic cancer will be eradicated within the month. I’ll send him the details of his new medication schedule later this afternoon.”

“I’ll let him know immediately, Dr. Equinox.”

“Colleen?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

Equinox hesitated. He enjoyed his fish. Over the years, he’d experimented on hundreds of animals, thousands even, but that was different. The tiny swimmers were the only real pets he’d ever owned. He smiled wistfully, knowing he had no choice. Already, he was missing his little friends, but he’d learned long ago he could not save the world without sacrifice.

“Send a memo to the aquatics division. I want the fish in my office dissected and examined, concentrating especially on inconsistencies or abnormalities in brain activity. I want a full analysis by Friday.”

“Right away, Dr. Equinox.”

11

One Boy

Michael awoke in a place where the ceiling was just inches from his nose and smelled like old gym socks. He nearly panicked, but then spotted a pile of familiar comic books next to his elbow. He breathed out a long sigh. “This is a new one.”

Rubbing the grit from his eyes, he squirmed from under his bed and began to get dressed. Today was the day. Two weeks had passed since he’d spoken to Diggs, two weeks with no sign of dollmen or talking cats, two weeks cooped up at the Wiffle home.

To take his mind off waiting, he’d kept busy practicing with the stonesong, spending hour upon hour sitting on the driveway listening to the pavement. He’d taken to wearing sunglasses to hide his eyes as he learned to control the surging power. The practice seemed to be helping. The driveway was mostly intact, anyway, only a few new cracks. But he was sick and tired of hiding. Plus the Wiffles, especially Barbara, were beginning to get the concerned look foster parents had right before scheduling a visit with the state-appointed child psychologist.

A tangle of questions filled his mind as he pulled on a fresh T-shirt. Were the Ven still lurking about? Had Diggs found the waystone? Where were the dollmen?

Two weeks and still no word.

He needed answers, and it was high time he did a little investigating of his own. He grabbed his sunglasses off the top of the dresser. The frames were a couple of sizes too big. They made him look bug-eyed, but the lenses completely covered his eyes.

“Have to keep the locals from freaking out if I can. Billy and his goons are probably still having nightmares.”

Looking into the mirror above his dresser, he allowed a whisper of the stonesong to slip free. Humming energy filled him, and his eyes misted over with silver. His face scrunched up as if he’d eaten a rotten grape. Silver eyes, jeeze. If he ever saw another dollman, he was going to punch him right in the mouth.

He put on the sunglasses and checked his reflection. The lenses completely hid the metal color of his eyes.

“Good enough.”

Closing off the stonesong, he left the room. Zipping down the hall, he took the stairs in three long leaps.

Barbara was in the living room, busily vacuuming lime-green lint from the sofa. “Going somewhere, dear?”

“I thought I’d swing by the library, Mrs. Wiffle. Is that okay?”

Barbara’s face lit up. “Oh, that’s wonderful. You’ve been moping around here since that football game. I was worried some of the boys at the park… Did you have any trouble making friends, Michael?”

He thought of Billy’s bleeding hand. “No,” he said. “We got along fine. Why do you ask?”

Barbara turned off the vacuum. “Something has been bothering you,” she said gently. “You know, Michael, some of our other foster children had difficulty adjusting. If there’s anything Karl or I can do to help, all you have to do is ask.”

He gave her a tolerant smile. “I’m fine, Mrs. Wiffle. No offense, but this isn’t my first town, or my first foster home. You don’t need to worry about me. I can handle things on my own.”

Hurt, sharp and immediate, colored Barbara’s eyes. “I was only…”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Michael said quickly. “You’re great, Mrs. Wiffle. Only, I’m used to looking after myself.”

Barbara’s eyes cleared a little. “I’m not your mother, Michael. I know that. But I am here for you. The second you walked through our door you became family, and family helps each other.”

Family?

A heavy lump formed in Michael’s throat. Did he really have to do this alone? If he told Barbara what was going on, maybe the Wiffles could…

No. Diggs said the Wiffles were safer not knowing about Ven. Michael wasn’t going to willingly put them in danger. He cleared his throat and steeled himself.

“I don’t have any family, Mrs. Wiffle,” he said, a bit more sharply than he intended. “I’m an orphan.”

“Is that so?” Barbara pursed her lips. “You’re a good boy, Michael, but sometimes you’re made of stone.”

An iceberg dropped into his stomach. “What did you say?”

“You’re too hard for a boy your age, too closed off from other people. It’s like your heart is made of rock.”

“Maybe that’s because I’m never in one place very long,” he replied. “The foster parents I stayed with before liked to keep their kids close to a certain age. Makes sense, I suppose. There’s a big difference between fostering a six-year-old and a sixteen-year-old. But it’s kind of hard to connect when you keep moving every few years. I mean, all that stuff about family sounds great, but an orphan is an orphan. We don’t have families. We have keepers.”

“Animals have keepers, Michael, not people. I was serious when I said you were family.”

He stifled a scowl. Why was she pushing this?

“You’ve only known me for a couple of weeks, Barbara. Somehow, I doubt you want to adopt.”

Barbara’s looked away. “We would give anything, all that we owned…” She sighed. “I have a heart condition, nothing serious if I remember to take my pills. But I get tired sometimes, and can’t work a regular job. Karl is a good provider, but he doesn’t make all that much money, so the state will only allow us to foster, not adopt.”

Michael wanted to kick himself. “I’m sorry, Barbara. I didn’t…the state is crazy. You two would be great parents, the best.”

Barbara laughed. “You can be such a sweetheart, my little stone boy.” She brushed the tears from her eyes. “I just don’t see how you can be so difficult to get through to sometimes.”

“I practice,” he said with a perfectly straight face.

Barbara laughed again, digging the dimples deeper into her plump cheeks. “Oh, Michael, you have such a kind heart. But do you even know the meaning of family?”

The opposite of a foster home, Michael started to say, but stopped himself. He’d hurt Barbara enough for one day. Instead, he said, “I think I do, but it has been a long time since my parents died.”

“I guess maybe that’s true,” Barbara admitted. She frowned for a moment, and then her expression brightened. “Can I tell you a story?”

Great, a couple of emotional moments and now it was story time.

“Is this going to take long? I really want to get to the library.”

“Not long,” said Barbara. “In second grade, my class spent a week playing musical chairs. Do you know the game?”

“Sure.”

“I loved musical chairs,” Barbara went on. “The best part was when there was only one chair left and two children. When the record stopped and the last child sat down, everyone in my class would cheer and clap for the winner.”

Michael grinned, tickled by the image of a young Barbara happily circling a line of chairs. “Did you ever win?”

“Only once. I remember the day like it was yesterday,” Barbara said. “It had come down to me and Trent Goodrich. Everyone was shouting for Trent to win, but I didn’t care. I could hardly believe I was still in the game. I was heavy even then, and slower than the rest of the children. The music stopped. And somehow, I beat Trent to the chair. I was so happy, so excited. I jumped up and started cheering right away…and then I stopped.”

“Why?”

Barbara smiled sadly. “I was the only one cheering. That’s when I realized no one, not even my teacher, had wanted me to win.”

At first, Michael didn’t know what to say. He settled on, “People can be jerks. You must have hated them.”

“Oh, I did,” said Barbara. “The teacher, my class, in that moment I hated them all with every fiber of my being. Up until then, I had thought of them as a kind of family. Their silence killed something in me that day. They showed me the ugly side of humanity, and I told myself I would hate them until the stars burned out.”

Michael’s jaw tightened. “I don’t blame you. You had every right to hate them.”

“No. I was wrong.”

“Why, because time heals all wounds and all that? Because they really were some kind of family and you should forgive them?” Michael sniffed. “I may not have a real family, but I know families aren’t supposed to be so cruel.”

“They’re not,” Barbara said. “And I would have kept right on hating them if not for one boy, one beautiful, stubborn, wonderful boy. All by himself, he started clapping. ‘You did it Barb,’ he shouted. ‘You did it!’ Those words took what the others had killed in me and brought it back to life, brought me back to life. Do you understand, Michael? In that moment, he loved me when no one else would. He cared, and so he became family.”

“I don’t understand,” Michael said. “I mean, I’m glad the boy did what he did, but how does that make him family? And what does that have to do with me? We don’t play musical chairs in high school.”

Barbara shook her head. “Why is it so hard with you? My point is that family isn’t about genetics. Family is about love, and choice. That little boy in my class chose to stick up for me. I chose to love him. I chose to make him family.”

“I wish it were that simple, Mrs. Wiffle.”

“It is,” Barbara said. “Families help each other, dear. If you share with us what’s bothering you, I promise we won’t disappoint you.”

Her words struck an undeniable chord in him, and once again, he fought the urge to tell her everything. But there was Diggs’s warning to consider. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t tell Barbara about the Ven. “I can’t,” he said at last. “I’m sorry.”

Barbara looked disappointed. “All right, Michael.” She reached again for the vacuum. “I won’t push. But you need to let someone in eventually.”

“I’ll try, Mrs. Wiffle.”

“Call me Barbara, dear.”

Michael went to the door, and then paused with his hand on the knob. “Barbara?”

“Yes?”

“Whatever happened to the boy? The one who clapped for you, I mean.”

“The boy?” Barbara’s smile lit her face like the sun. “I married him.”

Michael’s jaw dropped. “Karl?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, but…Karl?”

Barbara laughed and clicked on the vacuum. “Have a good day, dear,” she said over the noise. “Dinner’s at six.”

12

The Walk

Michael started down the streets in high spirits. The day was hot and clear, perfect for a visit to the library. The building would be cool at least. If Diggs wasn’t there, he would take the short stroll to the river and the drifter’s camp. The sun felt good on his skin, making him wish he hadn’t spent so much time inside the last two weeks.

As he walked, he thought of Barbara. Was she right about him? Was having a family as easy as deciding to care about someone else?

Ahead of his feet, a dozen pebbles scattered as if swept away by an invisible broom.

“Dang it.” He severed the stonesong’s connection with the sidewalk. His mind was wandering, and he couldn’t afford that right now. A family wasn’t going to solve his problems with the dollmen. He had to do that himself.

He quickened his steps. After so much time indoors, the walk was invigorating. The air smelled of mown grass and tulips, and the slap-slap of his sneakers added a pleasant backbeat to the sidewalk’s humming music.

A block from the library, a flutter of motion in a nearby tree caught his attention. He glanced up. Four crows looked down on him from above with beady, mismatched, green and brown eyes. He missed a step, hastily regained his footing, and kept walking.

It turned out visiting the library had been a bad idea. He didn’t understand what was going on, or where the strange black birds had come from, but the dollmen’s warning had been clear enough. Green and brown meant extremely bad mojo, and he had walked right into a mess of it.

A prickly sensation rested like a knife’s point between his shoulder blades, tightening his back and neck until they ached. Every passing second, he fully expected the crows to explode from the branches and descend on him in a dark blizzard of flapping wings and stabbing beaks.

He shuddered. The library was just ahead. He could hide there until he figured out what to do next. Then he spotted the library roof, a shingled slant of architecture with a red brick chimney at the crest. Today, that chimney resembled a lonely lighthouse among a tossing black sea of feathers. Crows.

So much for stopping, Michael thought. He almost turned around right there, but thought better of it. Too suspicious. Licking his lips, he walked by the library doors, glancing in as he passed. Through the Plexiglas, he should have seen Mr. Ellis, the crusty librarian, behind the counter. Instead, a wide-shouldered man in a dark suit and sunglasses sat behind the desk. Creepier and creepier.

He had been too confident, too impatient. Finding Diggs would have to wait. He had to get back home before another one of those talking cats showed up.

Sticking his hands in his pockets, he tried to look bored, while discreetly making certain no bird left its perch to follow him. He rounded the next corner, and the library disappeared from view. No sooner did he clear the crows’ line of vision than he dropped the act and blasted off like a human rocket.

At a full sprint, his muscles began to burn and his lungs to ache. Slowing to a jog, he forced his trembling legs to keep moving. He had to get home.

His concentration wavered, and the stonesong slipped his control in tiny surges. The sidewalk quivered beneath him, and some of his steps left spiderweb cracks in the pavement. He didn’t care.

The Ven were in Flintville. He had to get home.

His foot alighted upon a familiar curb. He was only a block from his house. He should have been relieved, but he could almost feel the Ven breathing down his neck. Tucking his chin, he coaxed out a final burst of speed and tore around the last corner running full-out.

He briefly glimpsed a pair of black slacks, and then slammed into what felt like a brick wall.

He fell back, skinning his elbow on the sidewalk and banging his tailbone painfully.

A man in a black suit and matching silk tie stared down at him through expensive-looking black sunglasses. Over six feet tall, the man had crew-cut hair, wide shoulders, and a deep barrel chest.

The man’s face split into a remarkably wide smile. “Whoa there, amigo,” he exclaimed in a cheerful southern drawl. He held out a large, tanned hand. “You need to slow down some before you get yourself hurt.”

13

Smiley

Michael took hold of the proffered hand, and the stranger pulled him to his feet. “Sorry,” he apologized, brushing dirt from the seat of his pants. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“No problem, kid.” The stranger rested a large hand companionably upon his shoulder. “Are you, okay? That was quite a spill you took.”

“Just a little sore is all.”

The man’s smile twitched at the corners, as if he found the answer amusing. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

For some reason, Michael didn’t trust the smile. The expression seemed false somehow, like the rehearsed goodwill of a used car salesmen.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry I bumped into you.” Enough chitchat, Michael decided. He’d apologized to Smiley. Time to get moving again. “I’d better get going.”

Smiley gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I’m glad you’re okay, amigo.” Still grinning, he turned his head and spoke to another dark-suited man standing behind him. “He’s all right.”

Michael’s mouth went dry. The man behind Smiley was terribly gaunt, almost skeletal, with sallow skin that sank so deeply into his cheeks that his face resembled a thinly wrapped skull wearing dark sunglasses.

Skullface didn’t answer Smiley. He kept his gaze on the street, as if he were waiting for a cab…or acting as a lookout.

A slithering disquiet touched Michael. “I should really get going.”

Smiley’s grip tightened a little. “Hang on a second, amigo. We were wondering if you could help us out with something.”

“Help with what?”

Smiley shrugged. “Well, we’re in a real pickle, my buddy and I. You see, we lost something around here, a black cat. Have you seen a cat?”

“A cat?” Michael swallowed, working moisture into his dry mouth. “A black cat?”

“A cat,” Smiley repeated. “That’s not too difficult a question, is it? I mean, you’d know the difference between a cat and say, a zebra, or an orangutan? You’ve seen cats before, I’ll bet. They’re small, furry things.”

“Sure. I mean…I just…” Michael gave a nervous laugh. “I know what a cat is.”

“That’s super, amigo,” said Smiley. “Glad we cleared that up. Do you live around here?” The question came out of nowhere, snapped out like an angler’s lure.

Michael almost smiled. His court-appointed therapist, Dr. Reynolds, used the same technique to try to get Michael to talk about his feelings. He answered Smiley the same way he answered Dr. Reynolds. “Huh?”

“I asked you if you lived around here,” Smiley said. “You must not have heard me.”

“Oh,” Michael replied vacantly. “Sorry.”

“Are you, amigo?” Smiley’s wide grin became a thinly pressed arc, like the last reflection of the moon before an eclipse. “Can you hear me now?” Steely fingers dug into Michael’s shoulder. “Do you hear the sound of my voice?”

Michael suppressed a groan. “I hear you.”

“And?”

“I live…I live not too far from here.”

“Not too far?” The lunar smile twitched. “That’s great, amigo. That’s just wonderful, just perfect. But I digest.”

“You what?”

Smiley licked his teeth again. “Digress, I meant to say. Back to business then—have you seen a black cat?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” Smiley crowed. “Poor little thing is half-blind, you know. You can tell because the sweet kitty’s eyes don’t match. One is green and the other is brown. You seen any cats like that around?”

Michael’s hands began to tremble. He shoved them into his pockets.

“Nope.”

“You’re sure?” Smiley glanced down at Michael’s pocketed hands.

“I’m sure.”

“Are you sure you’re sure?” pressed Smiley. “Are you positively, one hundred percent sure?”

Michael gave a shaky nod.

Smiley shrugged. “That’s funny. I was positive you could help us out. Oh, well. Sorry to have bothered you.”

Smiley let go of him, and a tingling rush of blood throbbed into Michael’s shoulder. “I have to go,” he said weakly, edging around Smiley.

“Okay, amigo,” Smiley agreed pleasantly. “Oh, and you should probably know that all your little friends are going to die.”

Michael froze.

“Does that upset you? Well, my father always said a liar’s life is one of disappointment.” Smiley leaned in close to Michael and whispered into his ear like a dark, midnight wind. “A little black bird told me a cat died in your yard, amigo. You’re a liar, Michael Stevens.”

Michael’s heart skipped a beat. Smiley knew his name.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on,” said Smiley. “Tell Uncle Nabal your little secrets.” The friendly drawl deepened into an animal-like growl. “What do you know? What are they hiding?”

“Nothing!”

“Your choice, amigo.” Smiley pulled a steel-cased syringe from his pocket. “We’ll just continue this conversation somewhere more private. We wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

They were going to drug him!

Michael’s pounding heart went into overdrive. The point of the syringe hit his bicep, and then snapped off with a tinny ping.

Smiley’s grin faltered. “What the h—?”

The stonesong surged. “Get away from me!” Michael roared.

The sidewalk fractured with a sound like a gunshot, and the ground leapt up beneath Smiley’s feet, catapulting him into the nearby parked car with enough force to dent the fender.

Michael’s sunglasses shattered, and silver tendrils of light burst from his eyes and body, setting the sidewalk alight. He was the pavement, the street and the sidewalk. Water lines were numb slivers in his flesh; the crisscrossing sewers, a gaping emptiness in his belly.

“This is unit four. Come in, control!” A hissing geyser fanned up from the sidewalk next to Skullface, drenching him as he shouted into his collar and pressed a bony finger to his ear. “We have a priority one situation. Requesting immediate instructions!”

“My, my, Michael, you do have a secret.” Grinning, Smiley pushed himself away from the dented car. “I’ve seen the eyes before, but the lights?” He whistled loudly. “Now, that’s something new. Have to say, though, you don’t look so hot. You feeling okay, or are you a mite dizzy?”

Michael narrowed his silver eyes. “Stay away from me. Don’t make me hurt you.” The ground trembled anew, but less than before. His vision blurred.

Smiley shook his head. “You’re kind of new to this, am I right?”

The silver light flickered around him, and then winked out completely. Michael staggered.

“See? I know a thing or two about secrets, Michael. For instance…” Smiley reached up for his sunglasses, but a skeletal hand closed on his wrist.

“Get in the car.” Skullface pulled Smiley’s hand away from his glasses. “We’re leaving.”

Smiley shook free of the thin man’s hold. “Are you insane? You saw what the kid did. The doctor—”

“Has ordered us to disengage,” Skullface finished. Walking over to the dented sedan, he opened the driver’s side door. “These are direct orders, Nabal. We disengage. Get in.”

“What’s going on out here?” Mrs. Finche called from across the street. The old woman had a dirty spade in her hand, and she waved it furiously as she hobbled toward them. She must have heard the gunshot crack of shattered sidewalk from her backyard garden and come down the block to investigate. “Is that you, Michael?”

Michael tried to answer her, but all that came out was a dry rasp. Dizziness and nausea had robbed him of his voice as well as his strength.

Smiley looked from Mrs. Finche to Michael. “Saved by the hag, amigo. Oh, well.” Stepping away, he opened the passenger door and climbed inside. “Be seeing you real soon, amigo. Count on it.”

Michael’s response was to noisily vomit on the sidewalk.

Smiley laughed. Skullface gunned the engine, and the car sped away.

14

Earthquake?

Michael watched the car until Mrs. Finche’s wrinkled face blocked his view.

“It is you, Michael,” she exclaimed. She had a smudge of dirt on her nose. “Are you all right?”

Michael rubbed his churning stomach. “I feel a little sick, but I’ll be okay.”

Mrs. Finche nodded to the geyser spraying up from the sidewalk. “I believe we’ve got a busted water main. My goodness, just look at this mess.”

Leaning a little to the left so he could look past Mrs. Finche, Michael caught sight of Smiley’s car turning a corner farther up the street.

Mrs. Finche tapped the spade against her cheek, oblivious to the mud deposited in its wake. “An earthquake, do you think?”

“Earthquake?” Michael muttered absently. Smiley had known his name.

“I’ll bet that was an earthquake,” Mrs. Finche asserted. “All that rumblin’ underfoot near shook my carrots right up out the ground. Near gave me a coronary ta’ boot!”

His stomach was feeling better, good enough to get home, anyway. But what then? Smiley knew about the cat. Probably about the dollmen, too. He’d seen Michael’s silver eyes and witnessed the stonesong in action.

“An earthquake, in Flintville of all places,” Mrs. Finche gushed. She lifted the spade to her brow, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Is that Emmitt Jenkins coming out of his house? Sure, it is. Emmitt, get your carcass back in there and call the mayor! We got us an earthquake to report!”

Michael glanced down at his feet and spied the broken syringe lying on the grass. Why try to drug him? What did Smiley want?

A rickety old man came down from a porch two houses away. Cane in hand, he hobbled toward them with a sour look on his face. “An earthquake?” he blustered. “Have you finally gone senile, Judith? There’s nothing out here but a busted water main. I heard the pipe rupture clear in the living room.”

Mrs. Finche glared at the old man. “You’re the one who’s daft, Jenkins. Was a quake, I tell you. Ask the Wiffles’ boy if you don’t believe me.”

Emmitt shook his cane like an unruly snake. “You don’t think I know the difference between a water main and an earthquake? Let me tell you, I—”

“I have to go,” blurted Michael.

Mrs. Finche gasped and dropped her spade as he rushed past her. He didn’t stop to pick up the garden implement as he sprinted for home.

Smiley had known his name, and that meant he probably knew where he lived. He’d only been a block from home when Smiley stopped him.

In seconds, he was cutting across the Wiffles’ driveway and up the porch. Flinging open the door, he burst into the living room. “Mr. and Mrs. Wiffle? Is anyone here?”

Barbara stepped out of the kitchen, a dishrag in one hand and a bottle of glass cleaner in the other. “Karl’s still at work, dear. Dear you hear that crash? Was there an accident?”

Michael ignored the question, slumping against the door in relief. Everything was okay. Smiley and his goon hadn’t been here yet. He still had time.

Barbara gave him a puzzled look. “Are you all right, dear?”

Michael forced a smile. “I’m just a little winded, Mrs. Wiffle. The library was closed. So I decided to run back.”

“In this heat?” Barbara clucked her tongue. She seemed to have already forgotten questioning Michael about the noise outside, which was fine, since he had no good answer to give her. “You’re going to end up with heatstroke if you’re not careful.”

“Yeah, it was kind of hot today.” Michael reached behind him and quietly engaged the deadbolt. “I’m beat. I think I’ll take a nap, if that’s okay with you.”

Barbara waved her rag at him and went back into the kitchen. “As long as you’re down here for dinner, dear.”

“No problem.”

The time had come to leave Flintville. Smiley was coming for him, not the Wiffles. Michael wasn’t about to let them get hurt trying to protect him.

“That reminds me,” Barbara called after him. “I was planning on making my meatloaf tonight, but you didn’t seem to care for it much last time. Did you want me to make something else?”

Michael stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He still had to wait until dark before he left. “Meatloaf would be great, Mrs. Wiffle. In fact, how about I hold off on the nap and help you with dinner?”

Barbara’s surprised face popped out of the kitchen into the living room. “That would be wonderful, Michael. And call me Barbara.”

“Sorry, Mrs.…Barbara.”

He really didn’t like meatloaf, but he didn’t want to spend the time he had left with Barbara cooped up in his room. After supper, in the dark and whether the Wiffles were asleep or not, he was leaving. As he stepped into the kitchen, a crow cawed. The bird sounded close.

Barbara looked toward the patio door and grimaced. “Do you hear that? To tell you the truth, I’ve always hated those filthy birds. My grandmother used to call them the Devil’s eyes.”

The crow cawed again, and the stonesong twitched.

“Maybe she was right,” Michael said quietly.

“Heaven forbid.” Barbara wiped her hands on her apron. “Now, how about we get started on that meatloaf?”

Michael nodded and pretended not to notice the continued cawing outside. He was leaving tonight. He only hoped he was not too late.

15

Visitors

During supper, Karl remarked on the broken sidewalk and made mention of Mrs. Finche’s earthquake theory. This provoked a lively discussion concerning flagging city maintenance, as well as the potential mental hazards of spending too much time around garden pesticides.

Aside from an occasional nod, Michael stayed out of the discussion. Mrs. Finche hadn’t mentioned seeing him at the broken sidewalk when she’d spoken to Karl. The old woman had probably forgotten about him completely in all the excitement. That was fine. Her senility kept him from having to give his own eyewitness account of the accident.

After supper, he helped clean the dishes and said goodnight to the Wiffles.

“Goodnight, dear,” Barbara said. “Thanks again for all your help tonight.”

Karl lowered the newspaper he was reading to give Michael an approving nod. “You should get out again tomorrow. Fresh air looks to have agreed with you.”

“Thanks, Mr. Wiffle. Goodnight.”

Michael left the kitchen and hurried upstairs. The dark had come, and though he had no money and no idea where he was going, he was leaving.

Once in his room, he pulled his backpack out from under the bed and began to remove his sheets. There was a long drop from the window to the deck, but tying the sheets together would make a serviceable rope. A shadow moved across his mattress.

“Take it out,” someone growled behind him.

Smiley!

He dove across the bed, but something snagged his collar, jerking him back and throwing him to the floor. A dainty foot pressed down on his chest, pinning him in place.

Michael’s jaw dropped. “Lina?”

The green-eyed girl from the park glared down at him. “You remember my name. That’s peachy. I remembered yours, too. Did you think I wouldn’t find you?” Dressed in a sleeveless blue hoody and blue jeans, she looked paler than he remembered, almost sickly, and there were long streaks of silver in her coal-black hair.

“Are you crazy?” Michael pushed at Lina’s foot, but she didn’t budge. “What are you doing here? How did you get in my room?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Well, I’m kind of in a hurry. Could you let me up?”

Lina shook her head. “Not until you tell me how to get it out.”

A crow cawed, and Michael looked fearfully toward the window. The Ven would be coming soon, them or Smiley. To keep the Wiffles safe, he needed to be gone when they got here. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I don’t care. Just let me up.”

Lina shoved her palm an inch from his nose. “I’m talking about this.” Covered in a lattice of silvery metal, a clear jewel glittered in the center of her palm. “I’m talking about your stupid necklace.”

“The waystone,” Michael breathed. He looked closer. The pendant seemed to have fused with Lina’s skin. “Oh man, this can’t be good.”

Lina’s foot pressed down on his sternum, and his ribs creaked. “Tell me how I get this thing out,” she said.

Michael groaned and pushed up against her foot, but the skinny girl weighed a ton. He couldn’t move her. “You’re hurting me, Lina.”

“Then tell me how to get it out.”

“I don’t know how,” Michael said. “You weren’t even supposed to have the waystone. Arghh!”

Lina leaned closer, pressing harder on his chest. “Take it out.”

Unable to move, Michael felt panic welling up inside him. Slight as she was, Lina might not even realize she was crushing him. He tried to tell her, but he couldn’t breathe. A creeping darkness closed in on his vision.

“Release the Awoken, thief,” said a gravelly voice. “Or this one shall kill you.”

The suffocating weight abruptly lifted from Michael’s chest, and he gulped in fiery breaths of air.

Her gaze locked on the window, Lina backed toward the bedroom door.

“What is that?” she asked.

Crouched upon the windowsill like a pale gargoyle, a dollman glared at her with gleaming mercury eyes. “You shall not harm the Awoken, thief. This one will not permit you.”

Lina swallowed nervously and looked down at Michael. “What is that thing?”

“Relax.” Michael sat up. He paused to cough and clear his throat. “Relax, Lina. He’s just a dollman.”

“A what?”

Michael rubbed his aching chest with the flat of his hand. “A dollman, one of the good guys…I think.” He sighed and pushed himself to his feet. “I swear it’s frigging Grand Central Station in here tonight.”

“Does he bite?” Lina asked nervously.

“Only cats, that I’ve seen. Sounds like he’s willing to make an exception in your case.” Michael rubbed his chest again and gave her a sour look. “To tell you the truth, I just might let him. You could have killed me.” He turned to the dollman. “What took you so long? I thought you were coming back when things were safe.”

The dollmen hopped down from the sill. His claws scritch-scritched against the floor as he trotted over to the bed. “This one followed the thief, Awoken. The Fallen are near. The People must retrieve the waystone and flee.”

Lina began to look more confused than afraid. “What’s he talking about, Mike? And why does he keep calling me a thief?”

The dollman bared his glassy fangs at her. “Return what was stolen, thief. The waystone is of the People, birthright of the Awoken.”

“I think I understand,” Michael said. “That thing in your hand is called a waystone, Lina. The dollmen left the jewel with me. I guess he figures you stole it.”

“I didn’t steal anything,” said Lina. “I found the necklace beside the fountain. Tell the little freak I never wanted his stupid waystone. I just want it out of my hand.”

The dollman leapt onto the bedpost, balancing on the smooth wooden ball while still keeping his alien gaze on Lina. “May this one kill the thief, Awoken?”

A low growl rumbled from Lina’s throat, and Michael quickly placed himself between the dollman and the girl. “Whoa. Everybody just chill out for a second. Lina didn’t steal the waystone. I lost it. Plus, the Wiffles have a rule about killing people in the house. So keep your claws to yourself.”

The dollman bowed to him. “As the Awoken commands. This one will not kill the thief.”

“Whatever,” said Michael. He glared at Lina. “And you need to calm down. Believe me, it’s a good thing for us this little guy showed up.”

Lina looked less than convinced. “Why?”

Michael slipped his backpack over his shoulders.

“You need that rock out of your hand. I need the waystone to help me control the stonesong. The dollmen are probably the only ones who can help either of us.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Not really,” said Michael. “Listen, ah… buddy,” he said to the dollman, “the Ven or some other really bad dudes are probably on their way here. So, we need the waystone out of Lina’s hand, like yesterday.”

The dollman cocked his head. “The Awoken needs the waystone to control the stonesong. The thief must release the waystone to him. The Ven are near.”

Lina clenched her fists. “Well, that’s just brilliant. If I could take this thing out, I would have done it already. Or does this runt think I normally break into boys’ bedrooms at night?”

Michael rolled his eyes at her. “Will you be quiet and let me handle this?”

“He’s not making any sense, Mike. I need to find out how to get this rock out of my hand.”

“I know, but you’re not helping.”

“The thief must release the waystone, Awoken,” the dollman said. “The Ven are near. The People—”

“Must flee,” Michael finished. “I feel you, bro. Now, how do we get the waystone out of Lina’s hand? Aside from me letting you kill her, I mean.”

The dollman’s forehead wrinkled as he appeared to consider the question. “The Awoken wishes to retrieve the waystone without harm to the thief?”

“Exactly. How do we get the waystone out without hurting her?”

“The thief is bloodbound to the earth and bone, Awoken,” the dollman said. “Only the elders of the People can unbind the stone from the thief’s flesh. If you would not harm the thief, we must go to them, in the city of the People.”

“I can’t go to some secret city,” Lina said. “For God’s sake, I’m supposed to be going to dance camp. Do you have any idea what kind of trouble I’m going to get in if I ditch that? No. I need this thing out of my hand tonight. There has to be something I can do.”

“She’s right,” Michael said. “I need to get out of here, but that doesn’t mean I want to go looking for a dollman city. Isn’t there another way?”

The dollman gave a glassy smile. “We can kill the thief and take back the waystone. Shall this one kill the thief, Awoken?”

“Let’s go, you bald monkey,” Lina lunged for the little man.

The dollman sprang from the bedpost to the dresser, knocking over a lamp as he landed. The lamp struck the floor and shattered, sending bits of glass and porcelain in all directions.

Running footsteps sounded in the hall outside his room. “Michael?” Barbara’s muffled call was alarmed. “Michael, are you all right?”

Everyone froze.

Michael broke from the paralysis first. “I’m okay,” he called back, but the footsteps grew louder. “Hide,” he hissed. “I’ll try to stall her.”

Michael sprang for the door as it swung open.

“What’s going on in here?” asked Barbara. She glanced over Michael’s shoulder and her hands leapt to her mouth. “Good heavens!”

Michael winced. This day just got better and better. “Please don’t freak out, Mrs. Wiffle. I can explain.”

Barbara’s hands dropped from her mouth to her ample hips. “I should hope so. What have you done to your room?”

“My…my room?” Michael turned. His bedroom was empty. Lina and the dollman had disappeared.

Barbara stomped past him toward his dresser. Standing over the rumpled sheets and broken lamp, she tapped her foot expectantly. “Just look at this mess. What in the world were you doing in here?” She frowned. “And why are you wearing your backpack?”

“I was…I was…” He fumbled for a believable excuse, but his mind was a blank until he spotted his Morbius comics next to the nightstand. “I was setting up a tent.”

“A tent?” Barbara pushed at the sheets with her toe. “You were trying to build a tent with your sheets?”

“Sure. It’s like camping, only indoors. I used to do this all the time at my old foster home.” A stream of crumbled plaster fell onto his cheek. Brushing it away, he glanced up.

Side by side, Lina and the dollman clung from the ceiling above him like human spiders.

“No freaking way!”

Barbara looked up from the messy floor. “What?”

Michael jerked his gaze from the ceiling. “I mean, uh…no freaking way should I leave my room like this. I’d better clean that up right now.”

Barbara clucked her tongue and smiled. “I’ll help you,” she said. “But next time you’re camping in your room, try to be more careful.”

“I’ll clean up myself, Mrs. Wiffle.” Taking her by the arm, Michael ushered her to the door. “I’m the one who broke the lamp.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” Barbara sounded uncertain, but didn’t resist as he pushed her into the hall. “Just make certain you pick up all the glass. You wouldn’t want to cut your foot.”

“No problem, Mrs. Wiffle. I’ll get all the glass.”

“Barbara, dear.”

“No problem, Mrs. Barbara,” he said hastily. He started to shut the door, but Barbara held it open. “Is that plaster on the floor?”

Michael’s heart jumped. “No. I don’t think so.”

“I think it is.” Barbara squinted at the white powder on the floor. “Now, where did that come from?” Her gaze began to lift toward the ceiling.

The doorbell rang.

“There’s someone at the door!” Karl called from downstairs.

Barbara rolled her eyes. “Would it kill him to get up and answer the door himself?”

“Barb!”

“I’m coming, you old goat,” she muttered. “I had better get that before Karl gives himself an aneurism. Make sure you clean up all the glass, dear.”

Saved by the bell, literally.

“No problem, Mrs. Wiffle.”

Barbara nodded and started down the hall, and he shut the door.

Lina and the dollman dropped to the floor as gracefully as cats. Above them, deep finger holes marked where they had dug into the plaster to maintain their precarious grip, where they’d clung, using only the strength of their arms to support the weight of their entire bodies as they clung to the ceiling.

“That was close,” Lina said.

“No kidding,” Michael said. “How did you do that?”

Before Lina could answer, the dollman seized Michael’s pants leg and, with an incredible display of strength, began dragging him toward the window.

“Hey!” Michael struggled to keep his balance, hopping on one leg behind the dollman. “Knock it off.”

“We must flee, Awoken,” the dollman said. “The Ven are near. This one will show you the way.”

“Don’t blow a blood vessel, Sméagol,” Michael said. The dollman didn’t look much like the pathetic ring-obsessed creature from Lord of the Rings, but he certainly seemed as single-minded. “I’m on my way out already. So let go of my leg.”

The dollman released him. “The People flee?”

Michael nodded as he brushed down his rumpled jeans. “That’s what I’ve been saying. I was making a rope so I could get out the window when everyone decided to stop by for a visit and…wait a minute. Did you say Ven?”

The dollman bobbed his head. “The other name of the Fallen, Awoken. The People must flee.”

Lina snorted. “Dollman, waystone, stonesong, and now Ven? I’ve been hanging out with you two less than an hour, and already I feel like I need a dictionary. Are you just making these words up as you go along?”

“I wish,” said Michael. He turned to the dollman. “How close are they? I mean, how much time do we have?”

The doorbell rang again, followed by a hard knock.

The dollman glanced fearfully at the door. “The People have no time, Awoken. The Fallen have come. The Ven are here.”

16

Out of Time

The knocking grew louder.

“No. No. No.” Michael combed his fingers through his tangled hair, and tried to think. This was too soon. “This is all wrong. I was supposed to be gone before they came.”

“What’s the big deal?” Lina asked. “And what’s a Ven, anyway?”

“Crows and talking cats with funny eyes, and maybe a couple of psychos in sunglasses, but I’m not actually sure about that part,” Michael answered. He pressed his ear to the door. He could hear Barbara starting down the stairs. “Whatever they are, they scare the daylights out of the dollmen. And a friend of mine warned me about them a couple of weeks ago. I haven’t heard from him since. He just disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Lina repeated softly. “You think these Ven are the ones knocking right now?”

Michael shot a thumb at the dollman. “He does, too.”

“So what do we do?” she asked.

Michael hesitated. What should he do? Diggs had told him the Wiffles would be safer not knowing about the Ven or the dollmen. But Michael had to do something, warn them somehow, or call the police.

The dollman trotted back to the window and hopped up onto the sill. “The Fallen are the hunters of blood and bone, Awoken. They are death. The People must flee or die.”

“That’s good enough for me,” said Lina. “Let’s book.”

Michael shook his head. “I can’t go yet.”

He reached for the doorknob, and Lina’s hand closed like a vice on his wrist.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Would you two stop grabbing at me all the time?” Michael pried at her fingers, but her skin was hard, wood-like. He felt like tree roots had grown around his arm. “Let go, Lina.”

“No way. Didn’t you hear the bald monkey? I’m not ready to die just yet. And I need you to get this thing out of my hand. You’re leaving with me, right now.”

Barbara’s thumping footsteps were halfway down the stairs. Michael had to do something, and fast. His eyes flickered silver, and pieces of the porcelain lamp skittered to the far corners of the room like frightened cockroaches.

“Let go!”

Silver fire erupted between Lina’s fingers, and she drew back her hand with a startled yelp.

Mortified, Michael clamped down on the stonesong, and his eyes faded to brown. “Lina, I didn’t mean to…” He reached tentatively for her wounded hand. “Did I hurt you?”

Lina jerked her hand out of reach. “Don’t touch me.” Turning her back to him, she joined the dollman at the window. “Go and die, then, see if I care. Come on, Shorty, we’re outta here.”

The dollman shook his head. “The Awoken must follow. We are the People.”

Lina made a sour face. “Fine. Then get out of my way.”

The knocking came again, louder than ever.

“Barbie!” Karl bellowed.

“I’m coming,” Barbara hollered. “Get off your lazy rump if you’re in such a hurry!”

“Lina, wait,” begged Michael.

He couldn’t let her go. She had the waystone, the key to controlling the stonesong. He needed her at least as much as he needed the dollman.

“Give me two minutes to call the cops. Then we’ll all leave together.”

Lina lifted her foot to the sill. “Why should I?”

Michael bit back the obvious because you need me to get out the waystone. “I just want to call the cops, okay? My foster parents have a phone in their room right down the hall. Please, Lina, give me two minutes.”

Lina’s scowl softened. “Two minutes. Then I’m gone.”

“Thank you.” Michael threw open the door and stepped into the hall. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

17

The Ven’s Grin

The phone in the Wiffles’ bedroom was dead. Michael slammed down the receiver. There was another phone in the kitchen, but if this one wasn’t working, chances were the other was just as useless. But he had to try.

He heard Barbara opening the front door before he was halfway to the stairs.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Mr. and Mrs. Wiffle?” drawled a familiar voice.

A prickling chill swept over Michael’s skin. He skidded to a stop at the top of the stairs and squatted, peeking around the banister to look downstairs.

Karl was up after all. He and Barbara exchanged a glance before he answered the dark-suited man at the door.

“I’m Karl Wiffle, and this is my wife, Barbara. Can I help you?”

Smiley grinned from the doorway, a thin black briefcase in his hand. “That depends, amigo. Are you the legal guardians of Michael Stevens?”

Michael cursed under his breath. To get to the kitchen he’d have to pass right by the door and Smiley. Now what?

Karl’s lips tightened into a stubborn line. “What’s this all about?”

“Oh, nothing special,” Smiley said vaguely. “Do you happen to know the current whereabouts of your foster son, Mr. Wiffle?”

“Michael’s upstairs in his room,” Barbara said. “I just spoke to him.”

Smiley grinned. “Excellent.”

“He doesn’t need to know that, Barbie.” Karl puffed out his skinny chest. He looked, for all the world, like an irritated rooster wearing striped pajamas. “You had better start talking, fella. Is Michael in some kind of trouble?”

“I’m afraid so.” Smiley flipped the briefcase flat-side up, offering the case to the Wiffles like a snack tray at a dinner party. “Have a look for yourself.”

The Wiffles leaned closer, and the lid sprang open, ejecting a cloud of white vapor directly into their faces. Without a word, the couple collapsed lifelessly to the floor.

“Made you look,” Smiley exclaimed cheerfully.

No!

Michael sprang to his feet. “Leave them alone!”

Smiley looked up at him and his grin widened. “Or what, amigo?” Tossing the briefcase aside, he waved away the lingering vapor in the air.

Michael’s eyes flickered. Down in the living room, the TV screen shattered in a shower of silver sparks. “If you’ve hurt them, I’ll…”

Smiley’s lips peeled back, revealing long, yellow fangs. “You’ll what?” he growled. His shoulders and arms bulged, stretching the fabric of his jacket. Pulling off his sunglasses, he glared up at Michael with mismatched brown and green eyes. “You’ll what?”

Michael’s mouth went dry. Smiley was a Ven. This was bad. Really, really bad.

Smiley groaned, and thick hair began to sprout from his cheeks and neck. His stretched jacket split apart, revealing a chest covered by curly black fur. His jaw twisted and cracked, pushing into a short snout.

Michael spun on his heel and sprinted toward his room. “Lina!”

18

Escape

Michael burst into his bedroom, nearly colliding with Lina.

“Watch out,” she snapped.

“Move.” Michael shoved past her to his dresser. Wrapping his arms around the bulky frame, he pulled the dresser a couple of inches from the wall. “Don’t just stand there. Help me!”

Lina crossed her arms over her chest. “How? I don’t even know what you’re doing.”

“He’s coming,” Michael grunted. The dresser moved another inch, stopped, and stubbornly refused to budge another centimeter. “We need to block the door.”

A long, eerie howl echoed through the house.

Lina was next to the dresser in a heartbeat. “Move it, muscles.”

“This thing is heavy. We’ll have to work together.”

“Shut up.” Lina put her shoulder to the dresser.

“Lina, I don’t think…”

The dresser flew across the room, crashing into the door with an explosion of splintered wood and pulverized plaster.

Lina brushed her hands on her jeans. “What do you think?”

“What do I think?”

Michael spat a grimy mix of plaster dust and saliva onto the floor. The dresser completely covered the lower half of the doorway, parts of the shattered frame wedged deeply in the wall. “I think you killed my dresser. How did you… you know what, never mind. Just help me tie these sheets.”

Quickly, they gathered up his sheets.

“What happened to the dollman?” Michael asked as he began his first knot.

Lina began knotting the end of one of the sheets to a bedpost. “He took off right before you came in.”

Michael bit back a curse. Without the dollman, how was he going to get the waystone out of Lina’s hand?

“What was that howling?” Lina jerked her knot tight.

“A Ven, a human one.” Michael tossed the makeshift rope onto his mattress. “Help me drag the bed closer to the window.”

Lina grabbed a bedpost. “Some guy was howling like that?”

“No time to explain.” Michael grabbed another bedpost. “We have to get out of here.”

A clawed hand burst through the door, tearing a two-foot long hole in the paneling as it if were tissue paper. Then a bestial face pressed through the opening. “Hello, Mike,” Smiley snarled.

Lina screamed.

Smiley snarled and pushed against the door. The dresser rocked an inch, but then stuck fast, keeping the door from opening.

Michael pulled on the bed, but he was working alone. “Come on, Lina. The rope won’t reach this far. We have to get closer to the window!”

Pushing his hairy arms through the door, Smiley dug his claws into the dresser and lifted. The particleboard broke apart in his hands, and he fell back into the hall with a howl of rage. But the damage was done. The makeshift barricade was in ruins.

Michael let go of the bed and frantically began unknotting the sheet-rope from the bedpost. They were out of time. “Lina, get to the window. I’ll lower you down.”

Lina didn’t move. Deathly pale, she held the bedpost, staring at the broken door with blank, uncomprehending eyes.

“Great,” Michael said. He flogged her with the end of the sheet. “Wake up, Lina! There’s a frigging werewolf in the hall!”

Lina blinked. “Werewolf?”

Smiley burst through the door, showering them with plaster and paneling. Michael pushed Lina toward the window. His hand touched her arm, and the stonesong surged. Lina’s palm blazed like a supernova, filling the room with a blinding, silver light.

Smiley howled. Covering his eyes with his forearm, the Ven tripped over the bed and crashed into the wall.

Michael took his hand away from Lina, and the light died.

Shaking his head like a confused bear, Smiley pushed himself away from the wall.

“Come on.” Grabbing the strap of Michael’s backpack, Lina ran toward the window.

“Lina, are you nu—Whoa!”

“Hang on, Mike!” Lina leapt out the window, dragging Michael behind her into the night.

19

The Hounds

Shattered glass surrounded Michael in an expanding cloud of debris as he and Lina flew over the deck and into the oak tree.

Michael felt Lina loose her grip on his pack, and gravity took hold. He tried to grab something, but all he caught were leaves as he fell through the not-so-springy branches. He broke clear of the tree, and landed on his backpack with a muffled thump.

With far fewer crashing noises, Lina dropped from the leaves and alighted next to him. “You okay?”

Michael made a face. “Ouch.”

“You’re okay,” Lina asserted. She pulled him to his feet. “Come on. We gotta move before that thing comes down here after us.”

“I still need to call the cops.” Michael brushed off the seat of his pants and started toward the driveway. “Mrs. Finche’s house is across the street. We can call from there.”

“Look out!”

Lina’s tackle took Michael at the waist, knocking him to the ground. Something zipped by above his head and struck the oak in a shower of sparks.

Lina sprang off him, and he rolled to his feet. A three-foot long steel rod quivered in the tree beside them, spitting electric-blue sparks from its shaft.

Next to the garage, Skullface lowered what looked like some kind of harpoon gun. Reversing the weapon so that the barrel faced toward the sky, he pulled another rod from a cylindrical black quiver at his waist and slid the rod into the barrel.

“This way,” Michael said to Lina.

He ran for the fence at the back of the yard, making certain he put the oak between them and Skullface’s shock rifle. Mrs. Finche’s house was out. He’d have to find another way to get the Wiffles help.

The privacy fence was six feet high. Lina hurdled the barrier like a gazelle. Grabbing the top of the fence, Michael did a chin-up, threw one elbow over the top of the barrier, and levered himself the rest of the way over. A clanging crash sounded in the yard behind him, followed by venomous cursing.

Michael grinned. Skullface must have tripped over the garbage cans. “That should slow him down.”

Rolling over the top of the fence, he dropped into a vegetable garden watched over by a dozen ceramic gnomes. A few feet away, Lina bounced nervously on her toes.

“Come on. He’s right behind us.”

Michael straightened his backpack. They were in the Nelsons’ yard, a snobbish couple he’d met only briefly when he’d first moved in. “Hang on a sec. I’m thinking.”

The Wiffles needed help, but if he tried to wake the Nelsons they might not answer, or worse, they might think he and Lina were playing some sort of teenage prank.

“What’s the hold-up?” Lina pressed. “Do you want to get caught?”

“I have to call the police first,” Michael said. He nodded toward the Nelsons’ house. “The thing is, I don’t know these people all that well. And I don’t want to stand around trying to convince them while a furry beast-man and some guy with an electric harpoon gun are chasing us.”

Lina began patting frantically at her pockets. Her face screwed up in frustration. “Great. I lost my cell phone.”

Michael hadn’t even thought of using a cell. He’d never had one. He liked his freedom, and a phone would have just allowed the Wiffles to keep closer tabs on him.

“We’ll just have to wake up the neighbors.”

“Fine.” Picking up a garden gnome, Lina jogged toward the house.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling the cops.” Drawing back her arm, she threw the gnome through the Nelsons’ kitchen window. There was a fearful crash. A light flicked on the second floor, and a woman started shouting somewhere inside.

Brushing the dirt from her hands, Lina turned to Michael. “Problem solved. Now what?”

Judging by the Nelsons’ cries of alarm, Michael figured Lina was right. If flying, window-breaking garden gnomes didn’t get the police out here in a hurry, nothing would. “All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Lina followed him out of the yard, down the driveway to the street. There, they took a right, heading east toward the center of town.

He’d done all he could for the Wiffles. Now, he had to figure out what to do about Lina and the waystone. Without the dollman, there was only one person who might be able to help.

As they turned down Main Street, Lina asked, “Where are we going?”

Michael gave her a sour look. They were running hard. He already had an angry stitch in his side, but Lina wasn’t even breathing heavily. “The bridge,” he panted. “I have a…friend… might…help us.”

Lina smiled impishly. “Want me to slow down?”

“Very…funny.”

“Just a suggestion,” Lina said, still smiling. “I thought you boys were supposed to be tough.”

Michael skidded to a halt.

Lina went on for a couple of steps, then stopped and came back. “I was just kidding. Anyway, this is no time to be so sensitive.”

“That’s not it. The stonesong…there’s something…”

He fumbled as he tried to explain. Since the stonesong’s awakening, the music was a steady hum in his mind, a singular melody he’d learned mostly to ignore. Now, a strange new chord had joined the song, a discordant note that did not belong.

“Something is wrong,” he whispered. “We’re not alone.”

They were near the middle of town, a collection of hundred-year-old buildings of red brick separated by narrow alleyways. The stores had closed hours ago, and the streetlights stood scattered along the street. Shadows, dark and menacing, lurked everywhere.

Lina didn’t waste time asking how he knew such a thing. Moving closer to him, she searched the empty streets and sidewalk through narrowed eyes. “Where?” she whispered.

“I’m not sure,” he replied. “Hang on a sec. I’m going to try something.”

Michael’s eyes glowed silver, and he sent stonesong sweeping out from him in all directions. The strange note wasn’t far, scratching continuously at his mind, making it easy to pinpoint the source amidst the hum of concrete.

His eyes faded to brown, and he pointed to an alley between two office buildings. “There.”

No sooner had he spoken than five black dogs emerged from the dark alleyway. They were huge, each as large as a full-grown lion, possessing long, wolf-like snouts and muscles bunched like steel cables beneath their dark hides. They spread out as they came, moving toward Lina and Michael in a crescent-shaped pack.

“Holy giant Cujo,” Lina choked. “Where did those come from?”

“I don’t know,” Michael said. “Let’s just back away, but not too fast. We don’t want to spook them.”

“Spook them?” Lina scoffed. “Are you trying to be funny?”

The first hound stepped under a streetlight. The dog had brown and green eyes.

“Oh, crud,” Michael said. “Um, Lina?”

“Don’t tell me. The giant dogs are Ven, too?”

He nodded. “Bingo. Remember what I said about not moving too fast?”

“Yeah.”

The giant hounds sprang toward them.

“Forget it. Run for your life!”

Spinning on his heels, he bolted away. Lina was only a step behind. But the dogs were fast, and it took Michael only seconds to realize they couldn’t outrun them. They had to find somewhere to hide.

“This way, Lina.” He ducked into the alley between Pete’s Barbershop and the Flintville Furniture Store.

The dogs were right behind them, but their numbers worked against them in the mouth of the narrow alley, crowding them together and slowing them down.

Michael paused to knock over a couple of garbage cans to discourage pursuit, and Lina swept by him.

A large dumpster blocked all but a thin portion of the alley ahead. Lina leapt over the garbage bin without slowing, and he squeezed his way past the dumpster behind her.

“Keep going,” he said. “They’re right behind us.”

“I can’t.” Lina pointed ahead to the blank wall fifty feet beyond the dumpster. “This is a dead end.”

There was no way out. They were trapped.

The Ven hounds had sorted themselves out. Two by two, they came down the alley with hackles raised and raw hunger gleaming in their mismatched eyes.

Michael searched the ground for some kind of weapon—a pipe, a brick, anything. All he saw were torn cardboard boxes and plastic soda bottles.

“Do something,” Lina told him.

Michael gave her an incredulous look. “Like what?”

She slugged him hard in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“What do you mean, ‘like what’?” she demanded. “Make with the special effects and smash those mutts. You know, like at the fountain.”

Michael rubbed his throbbing bicep. “I can’t do that here.” That wasn’t exactly true. The bricks called to the stonesong with a hum only a little different from the street or sidewalk. He might be able to stop the dogs, but if he lost control and started breaking things, he could bury them all beneath a ton of brick. “If I use the stonesong in here, I could kill us both.”

The first hound edged around the dumpster.

Lina pressed her back to the wall behind her. “We’re going to die anyway if you don’t do something! You have to try.”

The other hounds began moving around the dumpster, and the lead dog took a step toward them.

Michael’s eyes went silver. “You win, Lina.” Pressing his palms against the wall behind him, he bled silver flame into the brick. Merging with the brick and mortar, he spread the stonesong down the length of the alley to the street and took a deep breath. “Cross your fingers. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The stonesong surged, and the walls trembled. Bricks cracked like firecrackers, and a cloud of crushed mortar exploded from the walls, filling the air with choking dust.

The hounds growled at the shaking walls, moving closer to the center of the alley. Bricks and chunks of brick pummeled them with jagged, heavy rain. The dumpster flipped over, pinning the hind leg of one of the Ven. The trapped hound gave a funny sort of yip.

Immediately, two of the other dogs rushed over. Wiggling their heads under the dumpster, they lifted the heavy container from the ground. The trapped hound limped free, and the hounds released the dumpster, which fell with a resounding crash.

A broken chunk of brick struck Lina’s forearm, opening a thin gash. “Ouch,” she cried, ducking her head as more bricks began to shatter on the pavement around them. “What are you doing? Drop the rocks on the dogs, not us.”

“I’m trying.” Michael replied through gritted teeth. “Be quiet and let me do this.”

He focused the stonesong above the dogs, pushing at the bricks. A five-foot section broke free from the wall, smashing down to bury the lead hound.

Michael started to smile, but ended up wincing instead as a jagged piece of mortar struck his hand. The stonesong was breaking everything. If he didn’t stop the hounds soon, he and Lina were going to get their heads split open. Or worse.

Grimly, he sent out the stonesong again, breaking away more bricks and dropping them on the hounds. The dogs were quick and tough. They dodged much of the falling debris, or simply absorbed the damage and kept coming.

“This isn’t working,” Michael said at last. “The walls are coming apart. We have to figure out another way out of this.”

“I think you’re right.” Lina slapped a brick out of the air before it struck his head. “But how? This is a dead end.”

How would they get away? Michael closed his eyes, pushing himself deeper into the music of the stones. There had to be a way out of here, a cellar door, or a bricked-over window he could uncover with the stonesong, something he could—

His eyes snapped open. “Lina, there’s an old fire escape right above us.”

Lina looked up. “I don’t see a fire escape.”

He pointed to a six-inch rusted bar jutting from the brick twenty feet overhead. “All that’s left is part of the ladder. Can you jump that high?”

Lina pulled Michael into a tight hug.

“Hold onto me.”

He threw his arms around her neck. The dogs charged. The waystone blazed in Lina’s palm as she sprang into the air, Michael hanging from her neck. The hounds crashed into the wall, snapping teeth missing their prey by mere inches.

Lina’s leap brought them just short of the rusted bar, and she grabbed at it with both hands. Her right hand brushed against it and slipped, and then her left hand caught and held. The two of them swung into the side of the building, letting out twin grunts at the impact. Lina kept her grip, however, and they hung together from the bar like a bizarre Christmas ornament.

Michael let his forehead fall against Lina’s shoulder. “My hero,” he said in a breathy whisper. His stomach gave a nauseating lurch, and he gulped. “I don’t feel so good.”

“I don’t care, just grab the bar.” Lina’s voice strained. “You’re heavy.”

“Oh, right.”

He made a snatch at the bar, but his vision blurred, and he missed. He tried again, but suddenly his arm was too heavy to lift. He blinked owlishly. Why was it getting so dark?

“Just one…sec.”

“Hurry, Mike. I can’t hold on much longer.”

The rusted bar snapped, and Michael was falling. Below, the hounds opened their jaws wide to greet him.

20

Cain and Abel

Nabal picked up the booby-trapped briefcase and pulled at the torn shirtsleeve drooping over his wrist. Changing form was always the devil on clothes. He tore the rags of the shirt and jacket from his shoulders and flipped them into the corner. Bare-chested, he closed the briefcase lid, then turned and bowed to the unconscious Wiffles like a Shakespearean actor.

“Tell you something, folks, that boy of yours is full of surprises.” Straightening from the bow, he smiled. “By the way, I’m afraid I have some rather bad news. Your house just caught fire. Not to worry, you’ll both survive. The fire department is going to find you both safe and sound on the front lawn. Kind of a miracle, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Why do you play these games?”

The man who’d spoken stepped through the front door into the house. The newcomer wore a matching black suit and sunglasses. He was near Nabal’s height, though of slighter build, and perhaps a decade younger than his shirtless colleague.

Nabal spread his hands innocently. “What’s wrong with a little fun, Vincent? I still get the job done.”

“Your behavior is sloppy and unprofessional,” said Vincent. His gaze swept the room, barely pausing on the two bodies near the door. “I still can’t believe you let the kid get away. Dr. Equinox is going to skin you alive.”

“Let me worry about Equinox. Did you dispatch the hounds?”

“Of course I dispatched the hounds. Do I look like an idiot?”

“Do you really want me to answer that, amigo?” Nabal asked. “Quit screwing around and have these two lovebirds dragged outside. We’ll torch the place, find the kid, and get back to the Farm before breakfast. We’re in a bit of a hurry, so be a good doggy and hurry up.”

Vincent’s expression darkened.

Nabal raised an eyebrow. “You look upset, Belua Vincent. Was it something I said?”

Vincent took an angry step toward Nabal, and then stopped. Abruptly, he reversed direction and stomped toward the door. A cheerful drawl stopped him in his tracks.

“That was smart, Vincent, real smart,” said Nabal. “Because you’re new, I’m even going to let that one go.” His smile collapsed into a hard, thin line. “But if you ever question me again, I will rip out your heart. Do you understand?”

The blood drained from Vincent’s cheeks, and he slowly nodded.

“Excellent.” Nabal’s customary grin reappeared as if by magic. “I’m glad we understand each other. Let’s just forget this conversation. After all, we’re family. And brothers like us shouldn’t quarrel. I’ll bet if we try real hard, you and me can be just as tight as Cain and Abel. Now, have Saul take care of these two. Oh, and give me your communicator.”

With trembling fingers, Vincent unclipped the button-sized communicator from his collar and handed the device over, along with his earpiece.

“Thanks, Vincent,” Nabal said. “You can go.”

Without another word, Vincent hurried out of the house.

Nabal pushed in the earpiece and then tapped the communicator’s activator twice.

The earpiece crackled to life. “Farm operator,” said a man’s voice. “Code check, please.”

“This is Belua Nabal, Flintville mission. Get me Dr. Equinox.”

“It’s after midnight here, Belua Nabal. Dr. Equinox is indisposed.”

Nabal chuckled. “If you mean he’s asleep, then you had better wake him up. I’ve got information he’ll want right away.”

“I’m afraid that’s out of the question, Belua Nabal,” said the operator. “Relay the message to me, and I’ll be sure the doctor receives the information as soon as he’s available.”

“All right,” Nabal said. “Tell him I’ve located the new Awoken, along with a pure human meld.”

There was a brief silence on the line, and then, “I’ll connect you to Dr. Equinox immediately, Belua Nabal.”

Nabal removed a small bottle from his pants pocket and twisted off the cap. “I just bet you will, amigo.” Tilting back his head, he poured a dozen pills into his mouth and started to chew. “I just bet you will.”

21

Story Time

Michael groaned and tried to go back to sleep. He wished those birds would be quiet. Their incessant chirping was like a hundred high-pitched alarm clocks in his ears.

“Oh, shut up,” he grumbled, covering his head with his pillow.

Except this wasn’t his pillow, no more than the lumpy mattress was his bed. Where?

The dogs, the alley—they were falling!

“Lina!”

A callused palm pressed down on his forehead. “You’re okay, Mike. Lina’s right here. You’re both safe.”

A shaggy blur in front of him gradually became a grizzled and familiar face. “Diggs?” he breathed. “What…where am I?”

The drifter smiled and took his hand from Michael’s forehead. “You’re in a motel room. How are you feeling?”

“A motel? How did I get here? Last thing I remember, Lina and I were about to be dog food.”

“No wonder you woke up yelling.” Diggs chuckled. “Well, our little dollman friend told me you were in trouble the other night. I was coming to help when I saw you and Melina run into that dead-end alley ahead of the hounds. So, I grabbed a rope and climbed onto the barbershop roof, hoping I could hoist you out of there before the dogs got you. When I got to the end of the alley, you two were hanging just a couple of feet below me. All I had to do was pull you up. Although things would have been easier had that bar you were hanging from held a bit longer.”

“I don’t remember any of that.” Michael scrubbed his face with his palms and then looked around the room.

Chipped blue paint covered the walls, and a set of ragged curtains that might have once been green hung over the window. The place smelled of old cigarettes and fast food, and there were blotchy stains on the grey carpet so old they overlapped in places. There were two doors. The one leading outside was closed. The other was open a crack, showing the interior of a small bathroom.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Two days.” Lina stepped out of the bathroom. “About time you woke up.”

Michael’s eyes widened. Lina was so pale her skin almost glowed, and her hair bore at least twice as much silver as he remembered. He spoke without thinking. “What happened to you?”

Lina’s green eyes went frigid. “Don’t you dare look at me like that. This is all your fault.” She lifted her silver-crusted palm. “You and this stupid rock.”

“Don’t say that,” Michael snapped harshly. Checking himself, he took a deep calming breath before continuing in a softer tone. “I’m sorry about the waystone, Lina, but I never meant for you to find the necklace. What’s happening to you is not my fault.”

“Not your fault?” Lina mocked. “Do you know why I look like this, Mike, why my skin is hard as rock and my hair is turning to steel?”

Diggs shot her a look. “Not now, Melina.”

“He needs to know.”

Michael sat up in bed. “What do I need to know? What are you talking about, Lina?”

“The stonesong,” said Lina. “I’m changing like this because you used the stonesong.”

“That’s a lie. Tell her, Diggs. Tell her she’s wrong.”

Diggs coughed into his hand and went over to the table. “We’ll get to that later, Mike.” He picked up a folded newspaper. “We have other things to talk about.”

Diggs hadn’t answered him.

No. It wasn’t my fault.

Michael looked at Lina. Hard accusation smoldered in her sea-green eyes. “I have to use the bathroom.” Jumping out of the bed, he rushed into the bathroom and slammed the door.

After answering nature’s call, he flushed the toilet and turned on the faucet in the rust-stained sink. Using the thin wedge of soap left there, he washed his hands and then splashed some of the lukewarm water onto his face. He turned off the water. A dingy blue towel hung next to the sink, but the cloth was covered in greasy spots. He dried his face with the bottom of his shirt instead.

When he was finished, he stared into the smudged mirror at his reflection. “She’s wrong. If she would have minded her own business… She’s not your responsibility.”

His eyes flickered silver, as if putting the lie to his words. When he came out of the bathroom, Lina was gone. Diggs sat next to the table, and a dollman perched atop the TV.

The dollman bowed as he entered. “This one greets you, Awoken.”

“Ah, thanks.” Michael gave Diggs a questioning look. “Where’d he come from? And what happened to Lina?”

“This one protects the Awoken,” said the dollman proudly.

“The dollman has been with us since I saved you. When you woke, he was sleeping under your bed.” Diggs motioned to a chair. “Have a seat. Lina went for a walk, at my suggestion. She needs some time to clear her head, and she and I have already been over what I’m going to tell you.”

Michael sat down in one of the three chairs. “Is it true what she said? Did I cause her to… change?”

Diggs sighed heavily. “Not exactly, Michael. You see, the silvery substance surrounding the gem in Lina’s hand is pure earthbone. There is a peculiar and powerful link between the earthbone and the stonesong, a symbiotic connection that, I admit, I don’t fully understand. I do know the stonesong grows stronger when close to earthbone. During your escape, you merged with the earthbone in Lina’s palm. In so doing, you somehow accelerated her mutation.”

“You mean those times when her palm lit up?”

“The light was the waystone reacting to the stonesong. You couldn’t have known.”

Michael felt sick. “What’s happening to her?”

Diggs blew out the ends of his long mustache. “Her hair and increased skin density indicate mutation at a cellular level. Where that will end is anybody’s guess. Quite honestly, she’s lucky to be alive.”

“Why do you say that?”

“A fraction of the earthbone in Lina’s body would have killed most organisms,” Diggs replied. “Like you, Mike, she is a pure human meld. Ven will want her as badly as they want you.”

The dollman hopped from the TV to the table. “The thief is becoming.”

Michael looked to Diggs for translation.

The drifter shrugged. “I have no idea.”

The dollman scraped a claw across the surface of the table, carving a deep groove into the Formica and then examining it with childlike curiosity.

Michael rapped his knuckles on the table to get the creature’s attention. “What is Lina becoming?”

“The thief has tasted the earth and bone.” The dollman didn’t look up from the table. “If the elders do not sing the waystone free soon, she will become as the People.”

Michael dug his nails into his palm.

“Are you telling me Lina’s turning into someone like you? The earthbone is changing her into a frigging dollman?”

The dollman shrugged. “The thief is becoming, Awoken, but she is not of the People. This one does not know how her becoming will end, only that she will be as the People.”

Diggs tugged at his mustache. “This complicates things. We’ll have to move fast.”

Michael slammed his fist down on the table, liquid silver flowing into his eyes. “I’m not moving anywhere! What the heck is going on, Diggs? Who are you, really? What are the Ven? Why are they after me?”

The dollman leapt to the bed, bowing low. “Has this one angered the Awoken?”

“Calm down, Mike,” said Diggs.

“Not this time, Diggs. I’ve had enough. Do you hear me? First, I’m calling the Wiffles to make sure they’re okay. Then I’m calling the cops, and I don’t care if they believe me or throw me in the nut house. I’ve had enough.”

Diggs’s expression hardened. “There’s a phone next to the bed,” he said. “But rest assured, if you make either of those calls, Ven will know. They will find us, and they will kill us. And anyone you tell about the dollmen or the earthbone. Make no mistake, Mike, ignorance is all that’s keeping your foster parents alive.”

Michael opened his mouth, but his angry denial died unspoken. Why had a psycho wolfman like Smiley chosen to drug Barbara and Karl when he could have torn them apart? The answer was simple—the Wiffles didn’t know anything.

Like it or not, Diggs was right.

The silver in Michael’s eyes faded to brown. “But how do I know if they’re okay?”

Diggs lifted the folded newspaper. “This says they were found unconscious but otherwise unharmed outside their burning home. The Wiffles are fine, Mike, and will stay that way as long as you don’t try to contact them.” Setting down the paper, he rubbed his scraggly cheeks thoughtfully. “As to who I am, my real name is Dr. Christopher Curtis. And until three years ago, I was a world-renowned microbiologist.”

Michael looked the bedraggled drifter up and down. “You’re kidding.”

Diggs laughed. “Did you really think an illiterate vagabond would know anything about creatures such as the dollmen or Ven?”

“I didn’t really think about it,” admitted Michael. “I was too busy trying to figure out what the heck was going on.”

Diggs winced. “I see your point. Life has been pretty crazy lately.”

“You can say that again,” Michael said with feeling. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Diggs’s expression sobered. “That conversation is overdue, I know. I’ll explain the best way I can.” Sitting up in his chair, he cleared his throat. “Once upon a time—”

“You’re not serious,” Michael interrupted.

“Do you want to hear this or not?”

“The friend of the People begins at the beginning,” said the dollman. “This one thinks the Awoken should listen.”

“Sorry,” Michael apologized, biting back a smile. Diggs looked genuinely offended. “I was just…never mind, go ahead.”

On the bed, the dollman stuck his head under the sheets and began sniffing noisily.

Diggs cleared his throat again.

“As I was saying, once upon a time, there lived a small tribe of Native Americans, or American Indians, if you prefer. They were a wandering clan, pulling up roots often in search of better hunting grounds.”

“What did they hunt? Buffalo?”

“Irrelevant. Now, hush.”

“Sorry.”

“Forgiven,” said Diggs with a smile. “One day, the tribe was caught unawares by a violent storm. Searching for shelter, they found a narrow crevice in the face of a tall cliff. The floor inside was smooth and even and the walls came together above like a tent. The fissure continued far back into the cliff. Why they chose to explore? None can say. My guess is they hoped that they’d found a shortcut through the mountains.”

“Was it a shortcut?” asked Michael.

“No. The passage went on for miles before finally opening into a cavern paradise deep within the heart of a mountain.”

“Home of the People,” said the dollman from beneath the sheets. “The beginning of the beginning.”

The bed sheets flew into the air, and the dollman sprang up after them. Tackling the linens midflight, he came down with a bundle of twisted fabric and burrowed into them again.

“How could a cave be paradise?” Michael asked. “Aren’t they kinda dark and gloomy?”

“The beneath is great and wide, Awoken,” said the tiny albino, gravelly voice muffled by the sheets. “Not so great and wide as the above, but this one can still run very far in the beneath.”

“From what I’ve been able to piece together from the descriptions of the dollmen, he is right,” Diggs said. “Picture an enormous dome many miles in diameter with a massive crack across the ceiling that let in the sun, a roaring waterfall with a lake at the fall’s base bathed in rich, golden sunlight. There was life in the cave. A forest of trees and lush vegetation spread as far as the eye could see. Deer drank from the lake and mountain sheep with great curled horns climbed the sloping walls where nested many birds. The cave was beautiful, Mike, and the discovery became a turning point in the tribe’s history.”

“How do you mean?”

“At the time, another tribe, much larger than the first, had moved into the region. In time, it might have come to war. The cavern offered the tribe an opportunity to escape that eventuality. From that day forward, they became the People of the Mountain.”

“The People of the Mountain,” intoned the dollman. “The ones beneath.”

“Catchy.” Michael tried hard to keep the impatience from his voice.

What did any of this have to do with the dollmen or the Ven?

“In time,” Diggs went on, “the tribe discovered the art of masonry. As fate would have it, the cavern contained a peculiar mineral that was perfect for shaping into stonecutting tools. They named the element ‘earthbone’. With the earthbone, they built for themselves a fortress city, a mighty dwelling filled with towers and halls enclosed within impregnable walls.”

Michael sat up in his chair. “Earthbone. You mean, like in the waystone?”

“Yes and no,” Diggs said. “The waystone is a creation of the People. Purified earthbone is somehow bonded to a diamond. I don’t really understand the mechanics involved. Anyway, back to the point. The tribe had indeed discovered earthbone. And without it, could never have built as they did. The earthbone was their greatest ally—and eventually, their doom.”

“Why their doom?”

“The tribe was too talented, I suppose,” Diggs replied. “In the making of their city, they mined huge slabs of stone from the cavern walls, giving little thought to what that might do to the overall stability of the dome. Eventually, the foundation of the cave was too weak to support the weight of the mountain above.”

“There was a cave-in,” Michael guessed.

“An earthquake,” Diggs corrected. “When the sky began to fall, those closest to the cliff passage tried to escape, but it was too late. The gap to the surface closed in moments. The crack across the ceiling soon followed, plunging the whole of the underground realm into darkness.”

“Everyone died?”

“No,” Diggs said. “Generations of exposure to the earthbone had resulted in some rather spectacular changes in the People of the Mountain. Their mutations varied, but, like you, a few could merge with and even manipulate stone. These stonesingers, or Awoken, halted the quake before the cavern could collapse completely.”

“Then they opened the way out again, right? I mean, if those old Awoken could move stone around and not just break things to pieces, like me.”

Diggs shook his head, his eyes grim. “The stonesong is very dangerous, especially when there’s so much earthbone lying around. Yes, the Awoken saved their people from the quake, but the force they unleashed to do so was more than their bodies could stand. They died, Mike, every last one of them.”

“So, the rest were trapped underground,” Michael said. His stomach gave a queasy lurch. “Did the tribe ever get out?”

“Not for many, many years.”

“That’s not possible, Diggs. How could they survive without food or light?”

Diggs scratched at his whiskers. “That’s the real question, isn’t it? The earthbone is a mutagenic bonding agent, a kind of Krazy Glue for DNA. Put simply, earthbone takes the properties of one organism and binds them to another. Those characteristics are what allowed the tribe, the animals, even the vegetation, to adjust to their new environment and survive.”

“So the earthbone kept everything alive, even without light?”

“For years,” Diggs said. “Earthbone is truly an amazing substance, Mike. The only trouble is that it’s almost impossible to predict the end result of earthbone mutation.”

“That’s what I don’t understand,” Michael said. “If Lina and I are both mutating because of earthbone, why doesn’t she have the stonesong? And why don’t I have silver hair?”

“Think of it this way,” said Diggs. “You can put eggs, milk, flour, and sugar into a bowl, but unless you do things in the correct amounts, and cook the recipe at the just right temperature, and for the proper length of time, what comes out of the oven is rarely the same cake.”

“How do you know all this? I get you’re a brainiac scientist, but how did you find out about the earthbone, and the tribe, and all this stuff?”

Diggs said nothing for a moment. Then, he glanced pointedly at the sheet-wrapped creature on the bed. “I learned the story from our little friends.”

The hairs on Michael’s arms suddenly rose in prickly goose bumps. “The tribe. They’re the dollmen, aren’t they?”

“They didn’t change overnight, but little by little, the earthbone stole away the People’s humanity.” Diggs pulled his pill bottle out of his pocket and carefully worked off the cap. “The dollmen stayed in the mountain for generations, absorbing the earthbone all the while.”

“We are the People,” the dollman confirmed.

“And the Ven?” asked Michael. “Are they from the mountain, too? Did the earthbone change them like the dollmen?”

“Yes and no.” Diggs poured out two pills and popped them into his mouth. “When the dollmen first reappeared, one of their scouting parties was captured by a research and development team working for a company called Viral Engineering Neugenetics.”

“Viral Engineering Neugenetics,” Michael repeated. “V.E.N.”

“An acronym,” Diggs confirmed. “The dollmen were brought to a secret facility called the Farm. There, VEN scientists subjected them to every horrifying procedure you can imagine. They also obtained a cup infused with traces of earthbone from their captives, and soon learned the cause of the dollmen’s mutation. Experiments with earthbone mutation began immediately. Eventually, I was able to help the surviving dollmen to escape. We took the earthbone cup with us, and have been on the run for months, moving from town to town, always just one step ahead of the trackers. Our luck finally ran out in Flintville. Hunters ambushed the dollmen. Only one survived the encounter, and VEN took back the earthbone cup. That cup alone will provide the Farm enough earthbone to continue their experiments…at least for a time.”

“Why?” Michael pointed at the sheet-wrapped dollman. “Why experiment with making something like him?”

Recapping the pills, Diggs returned them to his pocket. “Hard to say, Mike. In many ways the People are a scientific marvel, and not just physically. Have you had time to ask yourself when the dollmen learned to speak English? They don’t, you know. Not one of them.”

Michael frowned. “Of course they do. The one on the bed was speaking English five seconds ago.”

“Actually, he wasn’t.” Diggs smiled. “The dollmen don’t really use words. Their vocal cords emit a harmonic frequency that passes information to the Wernicke’s and Broca’s areas located within the temporal lobe and frontal cortex. You and I could speak German and French respectively and, when the dollman spoke, hear the exact same words in two separate languages. Think of the implications if that specific mutation could be artificially synthesized in a human being. He or she would instantly become a living universal translator.”

Michael tried to recall all the times the dollmen had spoken to him. It had sure sounded like English to him. What Diggs was saying seemed impossible, but so much he’d once thought impossible seemed to be the very opposite these days.

“So, VEN wanted to copy the dollmen’s singing voices?”

“In part,” said Diggs. “At the beginning, I suspect they were more interested in preventing the mutation from spreading to everyone on earth.”

“That makes no sense,” Michael argued. “The tribe mutated because they were exposed to earthbone in the cave. How can earthbone mutate anyone up here when it’s buried in a mountain?”

“Ah, but is the earthbone buried?” Diggs leaned forward. “Think, Mike. You heard the music in the stones long before the dollmen ever gave you that cup, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah. But not like now. I couldn’t move rock or anything.”

“But you heard the stonesong, however weakly,” Diggs insisted. “That means the power was already inside you, a mutation directly tied to earthbone. How is that possible if all the earthbone is hidden?”

“You’re saying I was exposed to the earthbone before I even met the dollmen?”

Diggs slapped his palm on the table triumphantly. “Exactly. In fact, we’ve all been. You just happen to be more receptive than most.”

“But how could that be?”

“After capturing the dollmen, the Farm’s scientists detected minute particles of earthbone in the atmosphere. Only a little at first, but the levels are rising daily,” Diggs explained. “They found the greatest concentration in the hills of Kentucky, but were unable to locate the source of the emissions. The saturation levels are still rising, Mike. America is going to start to look very different if we don’t find a way to stop the leak soon.”

Michael fought the urge to throw up. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that everybody is slowly turning into dollmen.”

“Not exactly,” Diggs said. “Like I told you, earthbone doesn’t mutate everyone the same way. The process is fluid, constantly adapting. Much depends on environmental factors and other variables I can’t begin to imagine.”

“Oh. Well, that’s fine then.” Michael fell back into his chair. “So, for all you know, we could all be turning into six-headed lizard men?”

“Possibly,” Diggs replied with a straight face. “Although, those who’ve already mutated, like you, Lina, the dollmen, even VEN, already have some idea of the course of your transformation.”

“Wait a second, the VEN…”

“…Were created using earthbone,” Diggs said. “Within months of capturing the dollmen, VEN scientists developed an earthbone fusion process to bind DNA from one animal to another, hardening skeletal structures, enhancing muscle strength and stamina. In the last few years, they’ve birthed an army of these hybrids. A curious, and nearly universal, side effect of the bonding procedure is a discoloration of the tests subjects’ irises, resulting in one green and one brown eye in hybrids, regardless of base species.”

Michael cringed. “Crows, cats, and dogs with mismatched eyes. What about Smiley the wolfman? Is he a hybrid, too?”

Diggs looked down at the table. “They are called ‘belua’,” he said quietly. “It’s Latin. It means beast or monster. It seems even genetic engineers have a sense of humor. Anyway, they are volunteers, every one. Too late, they discovered the human-grafting process was flawed.”

“I don’t know about the rest of them,” Michael said, “but Smiley’s operation seemed to work just fine.”

“He is still flawed, Mike,” Diggs said. “You and Melina are pure melds. You both have clean bonds with the earthbone without the corrupting influence of foreign DNA. The belua are different. They’re a hybrid combination of human and animal DNA held together by earthbone. This is why they possess such bestial secondary forms. Chemical suppressants are needed to keep the transformation in check.”

“They’re werewolves?”

Diggs grunted a short laugh. “Not really. Wolf DNA, by itself, was deemed too feral for grafting. The belua are more of a were-zoo.”

Michael smirked. “Good one.”

The dollman’s head popped up out of the covers as the outside door opened. “The thief returns, Awoken.”

Lina walked in, scowling at the dollman. “I told you to stop calling me that, you little pest. My name is Lina.”

The dollman sunk back into the covers. “This one does not like the thief, Awoken. She is not yet of the People.”

“Thank God.” Lina turned to Diggs. “Is Sleeping Beauty up to speed?”

Michael’s eyes narrowed. As guilty as he felt, he wasn’t about to let Lina treat him as if he wasn’t there. “You could ask me, you know. I’m right here.”

“Have it your way,” Lina said. “Do you understand how you have screwed up my life yet, or should I draw it out for you in crayon?”

Michael shot up from his chair. “You’re not the only one with problems, Lina.” He flooded his eyes with silver. “Does this look like pinkeye to you?”

“Shiny eyes, how horrible for you,” Lina sneered. “Are you turning into a bald monkey without a nose? I don’t think so.”

A growl sounded from the bed.

Lina whirled on the dollman. “Shut it, short stack, or I’ll flush you.”

“That’s enough,” Diggs roared at them. “Are you both complete fools? Your lives are in danger. Now, stop this childish bickering and sit down.”

Glaring daggers at Lina, Michael sat back down. How could she blame him? This wasn’t his fault. She was wrong, completely wrong.

Lina plopped down in the remaining chair and stuck out her tongue at him.

Diggs folded his hands in front of him. “Now, we have some choices to make.”

Michael ran his finger over the groove the dollman’s claw had left in the table. “What choices?”

“VEN will be searching for you now,” Diggs began. “Both of you. As I see things, this leaves us two options. The first, we hide. Given time, there is a good chance I can, if not halt, at least stabilize your mutations.”

“And the second choice?” Lina prompted.

Diggs nodded toward the dollman. “Our little friend seems confident that the elders of his tribe can extract the waystone from your hand and even reverse your mutation. And, of course, Mike needs the waystone to help him control the stonesong. We could go to the dollmen city.”

“Sounds like a no-brainer.” Michael pushed his chair back from the table. “What are we waiting for?”

Diggs held up his hand. “Hold on, Mike. Going to the dollmen city is risky. VEN agents have been searching for the entrance for years. The hybrid cat you ran into back home called you a Primary. That means VEN considers you a priority target. If they catch us, they will bring you and Melina to the Farm. And what they do in that pit would give you nightmares.”

“The VEN are the seekers of blood and bone,” the dollman said from the sheets. “And they are legion. This one has killed many of the Fallen, and still they hunt the People.”

Lina touched her fingers to her silvery hair. “If we hide…can you change this back, Diggs? Can you take out the waystone? I can’t go home like this. Not like this.”

Reaching across the table, Diggs took her hand and gave a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, Lina. Earthbone mutation is aggressive and, as far as I know, irreversible. All I can hope to do is halt the process, not reverse it. I can surgically remove the waystone, but the earthbone has already changed your cellular structure. You’ll remain as you are, and if I don’t stabilize you soon, your mutation will worsen quickly.”

“How quickly?”

Diggs released her hand.

“Difficult to say,” he hedged.

“Tell her, Diggs,” Michael said. “If we’re trying to decide what to do about this, she needs to know.”

“How quickly?” Lina repeated.

Diggs sighed. “Judging from the rapid changes you’ve experienced since your exposure, I would estimate complete reconfiguration of your cellular structure within two, maybe three weeks.”

Tears, bright as crystal against her alabaster skin, rolled down Lina’s cheeks. “Two weeks?”

“I’m sorry, Melina,” Diggs said. “I promise you. I’ll do everything in my power to halt the process before that happens.”

Michael’s blood began to boil. Two weeks, and the VEN corporation stood between Lina and the only people who could help her. What gave them the right to seal her to such a horrible fate? That wasn’t fair. Worse, it wasn’t right.

“We’re going to the city.”

“What about VEN?” asked Lina. “What if they catch us?”

“She’s right,” said Diggs. “You have no idea how dangerous they are.”

“I don’t care,” Michael said. “We’re going to the dollmen city. You were right, Lina. I lost the waystone. I used the stonesong without thinking about you. This is my fault. I have to fix this.”

“What if you can’t?” Lina blurted. “What if the VEN catch…I mean, what if VEN catches us?”

Michael began to answer, then stopped himself. He wanted to help Lina, but acting without thought was what had gotten him into this mess. Was going to the dollmen city another mistake?

“The Fallen cannot stop he who was sleeping, thief.” Torn sheets draping his arm like a ghostly shroud, the dollman pointed toward the window. “Do you hear the stone calling? He is the Awoken, bane of the Betrayer and chosen of the People of the Mountain. Neither beasts nor man shall sway his destiny. He is the Awoken.”

Diggs’s blue eyes bored into Michael like twin drills. “I won’t sugar-coat it, Mike. This is life and death, and there’s no turning back. Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

Michael’s gaze followed the dollman’s finger to the window. For just an instant, something tugged at the stonesong, a distant thrum like far-off thunder. “We’re going to the dollmen city.”

Brushing the tears from her ears, Lina smiled. “My parents are going to kill me anyway when they find out I ducked dance camp. I had an awesome routine worked out for this year’s competition, too. Now, Shelly Patterson will probably win again, and she’s such a little diva.”

Diggs rose from the table. “Only the dollman can show us the exact location of the entrance, but air samples taken by VEN confirm earthbone concentrations are greatest in Kentucky, and most likely originate near the Mammoth Cave system in the national park. That’s a long drive from Michigan, and we’ll have to stay clear of the main roads, which will add a few hundred miles and a couple days to the nine-hundred-mile road trip. Let’s get moving.”

As he picked up his backpack from the floor and the others gathered their belongings, Michael caught the dollman watching him with bright, unknowable eyes. “You really believe all that destiny stuff?”

“Listen to the words of the earth and bone,” the dollman replied, cryptically. “I hear them even now.”

“Earth and bone, huh?” Michael shook his head. “Well, I don’t hear them. What are they saying?”

The little man smiled and lowered his eyes. “Behold the Awoken.”

22

Girls and Pancakes

The green marble cut past the blue, overtaking the marble with the red and yellow swirls as they sped around the rim of the plate. Around and around the marbles lapped, avoiding maple syrup and pancake crumbs as if they were oil slicks on a racetrack.

“Should you be doing that in here?” Lina asked.

Michael’s concentration faltered, and the blue marble leapt from the plate and went skittering across the table. “There’s nobody here but us. Besides, I need the practice and merging with glass is way safer and easier than rock.”

Sending out a tiny surge of the stonesong, he drew a score of marbles to the center of the table. Focusing his power, he painstakingly began to stack them atop one another.

The pillar was several inches high and topped by a spinning crown of six red marbles before Lina knocked them over with her fork. Marbles flew in every direction, several falling onto the floor.

“Hey,” Michael protested. “I was doing pretty good that time.”

Lina simply glared at him. “Stop showing off and put those away before someone sees you. It’s like babysitting a two-year-old with superpowers.”

Michael grinned and set the open marble bag between them.

“Shazam.” Every marble on the table rolled into the bag of its own accord.

“Cute. What about the ones on the floor?”

“Wait for it.”

A marble peeked over the edge of the table, and then all the marbles from the floor hopped up onto the table and zipped into the bag. Scooping up the bag, Michael closed the drawstrings with a flourish. “Ta-da.”

“You’re an idiot. Can I finish my pancakes now?”

Michael sat back in the red vinyl booth and shrugged. “Be my guest. I’m full.”

The diner had a blue neon sign outside naming it “Jericho’s Pancakes n’ More.” In Michael’s opinion, the sign should have read, “Jericho’s Pancakes and You Don’t Need Any More.” Half of one of the diner’s culinary monstrosities had left him feeling like an overinflated balloon. Bored, he’d spent the last half hour practicing with the marbles. Glass didn’t feel the same as rock, but the melted sand still retained a spark of music the stonesong could reach.

Lina squirted another helping of maple syrup onto her heaped plate. She’d already finished three of the huge pancakes and was in the process of inhaling a fourth with no signs of slowing. Her appetite had been growing steadily for the last three days—a side effect of her ongoing mutation, according to Diggs. More silver appeared in her hair every day.

“I can’t believe you’re even using the stonesong around me.” Lina speared a helpless piece of pancake, jamming the morsel into her mouth. “After what happened last time.”

“Diggs says I’ll only merge with you if I lose control of the stonesong, or if I try to use more than I can handle. Moving marbles barely takes any power at all. Plus, I don’t get as sick after.”

Lina made a face. “Still not normal.”

Michael laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Lina, you’re as strong as an ox and can jump like a gazelle. I can move marbles without touching them, and my eyes are silver under these sunglasses. If we were in showbiz, we’d be millionaires.”

“I’m already rich. Even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t want to be if it meant I had to be a freak.”

Michael’s backpack shifted next to his thigh. The flap opened a crack, revealing a pair of gleaming silver orbs. “This one is hungry, Awoken. May this one have some food before the thief eats it all?”

“I told you to stop that,” Michael said. Tearing off a section of his unfinished pancake, he handed the piece to the little man. “I’m Michael, or just Mike, if you want. And Lina gets mad when you call her the thief.”

“Yer dang ruht, I doob,” Lina mumbled through a mouthful of mashed pancake.

The dollman retreated into the backpack with the pancake clutched tightly in his claws. “Tell the thief this one is sorry, Awoken Michael Or Just Mike If You Want.”

Michael groaned. “Looks like I’m going to have to give you a name if you’re ever going to get this right.”

“This one is of the People and not an elder. This one has no name.”

“Give it up, Mike.” Lina pointed to his plate. “What’s wrong with your food?”

“Nothing.”

“Why aren’t you eating?”

Michael grunted. “I’m too busy wondering if your legs are hollow.”

Lina pushed another forkful of pancake into her mouth. “Wud do yoob mean, ol owe?” she garbled, spraying squishy yellow bits across the table.

Michael threw up a hand to ward off the sticky shrapnel. “Gross! Swallow your food before you talk. Or if that vacuum you call a mouth isn’t fast enough for you, maybe we can have the waitress set you up with an IV full of maple syrup and pancake mix.”

Lina gave him a truly disgusting grin before swallowing. “You’re just jealous. I’m the girl, but you’re the one eating like an anorexic ballet dancer.”

“Correction. I eat like a normal human being. You eat like a starving hippo.”

“So now you’re the expert on normal?” Lina waved her fork at his sunglasses. “Those have got to be the stupidest-looking pair of shades I’ve ever seen. Maybe if Diggs hadn’t wasted so much money on them, we wouldn’t be stuck in Hicksville, USA.”

Michael pushed the glasses further up his nose. In the movies, the hero never had to worry about little things like money. Even poverty-stricken heroes, like Spiderman, could travel to alternate dimensions in distant star systems without ever seeming to worry about the rising price of gas. As it turned out, though, going on an adventure to find an underground city full of short, pasty gremlins was expensive. They needed to eat, and Diggs’s pickup was down to half a tank of gas. Diggs had left them at the diner while he went in search of a cash-paying job in town.

“Your stomach is costing more than my glasses.” Michael tapped the dark frames. “At least these have a purpose, not like that stupid baseball bat you wanted Diggs to buy.”

“I was thinking of self-defense.”

Michael snorted. “You were going to try using a baseball bat against VEN monsters? If you have a death wish, why not just throw yourself in front of a train?”

“Whatever,” Lina said. “Maybe some of us can’t throw rocks around with our brains.” The chime hanging above the diner’s front door gave a merry jingle.

Lina leaned out from the booth. “Speaking of ballet dancers…”

A portly waitress with a tight grey bun emerged from the swinging door behind the counter. Crossing the room, she greeted the four adolescent girls standing near the door and then led them to an empty table. The girls wore a colorful assortment of sequined dresses and glanced often at their glowing cell phones as they sat. They had their hair pinned back with shiny gold tiaras. After jotting down their orders on a yellow tablet, the waitress got the colorfully dressed quartet their drinks and then hustled back through the swinging doors into the kitchen.

“Why are they dressed like that?” Michael wondered aloud.

“They’re dancers,” Lina said, a tiny catch in her voice. “They must have just come from rehearsal.”

“How do you know? Maybe there’s a circus in town.”

One of the girls caught Michael staring and leaned over to her friends. Instantly, cell phones were lowered as all eyes turned to their booth.

Michael snatched up a menu and ducked down behind it. A burst of giggling came from the girls’ table, but he refused to look up.

“Wow,” Lina said. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

Michael tilted the menu down just enough so that he could see her face. “Do what?”

“Kind of neat really, better than moving marbles, anyway. Can you teach me?”

“What are you talking about?” Michael asked distractedly. He wasn’t even looking at them anymore. Why were they still giggling?

“Can you teach me to read upside down?”

“I can’t…oh, man,” Michael slapped the menu down on the table.

More giggling.

Lina’s eyes were wide and innocent. “What’s the matter, Mike? Didn’t you want the upside-down cake?”

“You’re a jerk.”

Lina spread her hands. “How did I know you couldn’t read upside down? Maybe you have an allergy or something. Have you been vaccinated against puppy love?”

The backpack rustled. “What is puppy love, Awoken? And when will this one have his name?”

“Be quiet, nosey,” Michael growled.

“This one will have the name no-see, Awoken?”

“Maybe you should see an eye specialist,” Lina suggested.

Michael nudged the backpack with his elbow. “No-see isn’t a name. Now, be quiet,” he hissed to the dollman. “And shut up, Lina.”

“This one does not wish to be quiet, Awoken.”

Lina nodded toward the table. “I should probably tell you. Those dancers are staring at you.”

“This one desires his name, Awoken.”

“Oh, for the love of—” Michael slapped the menu hard on the table, knocking over the saltshaker. An almost perfect line of white salt spilled across the menu, underlining the name spelled out in blocky letters on the cover.

Inspiration struck.

“Jericho,” Michael announced. “Your name is Jericho, not Lina, all right, or nosey, or whatever. I’m Michael, and you’re Jericho.”

The backpack shifted. “This one is…Jericho. You are Michael, the Awoken.”

“Close enough,” Michael said. “Now that you have a name, can you please be quiet?”

Lina smirked. “Why so snippy, Mike? Are you mad I mentioned the dancers were looking at you? Come on, what kind of friend would I be if I stood in the way of true love?”

“The kind who gets to keep her teeth.”

The door chimed again, and Lina leaned out once more for a look. “Diggs is back.”

“About time.” Michael brushed the salt from the menu and pushed it aside. “Maybe now we can get out of here.”

Diggs plopped down in the booth beside Lina. “Sorry to disappoint you, but we’ll be staying a while longer.”

Lina pushed away her plate. “You couldn’t find work?”

“The fellow who owns the car garage down the street said he’d have something for me on Monday.”

“Today is only Thursday,” Michael said. “We don’t have that kind of time.”

“I know. But the fella at the garage said he didn’t have anything for me until then.” Diggs nodded toward the dancers’ table. “There’s some kind of dance competition at the local high school. Seems like a pretty big event around here. First prize is five hundred dollars.”

Michael crossed his arms. “So we’re stranded, broke, and homeless until Monday?”

Diggs scratched his whiskers. “Unless you want to hitch the last hundred miles to the mountains, things sure look that way. With VEN out there, I wouldn’t suggest that route. Like it or not, we have to stay put until I can make some money.”

“Let me out.” Lina nudged the drifter.

Diggs let her out of the booth and then sat back down. “Where are you going?”

“Since we’re stuck anyway, I thought I’d do Romeo here a favor.” Throwing Michael a wink, Lina sauntered over to the dancers’ table.

Michael’s cheeks grew warm. “She wouldn’t.”

Leaning over their table, Lina said something to the girls. The dancers laughed. One of them offered Lina a chair, and she sat down.

Diggs helped himself to a piece of Michael’s pancake. “I think she just did.”

“I’ll murder her.”

After a few minutes of conversation involving unhealthy amounts of giggling, Lina excused herself from the table and came back to the booth.

“They seem to like you,” Diggs remarked as Lina sat down next to him.

“I think they like Mike more than me.” Lina grinned wickedly. “They want me to send him over.”

Michael laid his head down on the table. “Someone kill me.”

An angry growl came from the backpack. “Who threatens the Awoken?”

“Settle down, Jericho,” Michael said. “I was just venting.”

Diggs raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Jericho?”

“This one is Jericho,” answered the backpack. “The Awoken, who is Michael Or Just Mike, has so named this one.”

“Jericho?” Diggs took his pill bottle out of his pocket and unscrewed the cap. “You named him after a pancake house?”

“I was a little rushed, okay? Give me a break.” Michael lifted his head. “Looks like you’ve only got about ten of those pills left. Are they important?”

“Thirteen,” Diggs corrected, popping two of the tablets into his mouth. “Eleven now. And yes, they’re very important.”

“Well, you can buy more after tonight.” Lina wore a smug look. “I figured out a way to solve our money problem.”

Michael glanced over to the dancers. They were blowing kisses at him and giggling. “Are you going to kill me and collect on the life insurance?”

“No.”

“Then we still have a problem.”

Diggs’s cough sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “I have to agree, Melina. How is getting a date for Mike going to help our situation?”

Lina rolled her eyes. “Be serious, you two. I didn’t go over there to get Mike a date.”

Michael sat up straight. “You didn’t?”

“Of course not. I went over there to ask if it was too late to sign up for the competition.”

“You did what?” Michael exploded.

“They told me there’ve been a couple of last-minute cancellations, so finding me a spot shouldn’t be a problem,” she said. “And you, Mike, are going to make me a costume.”

“Good luck,” one of the dancers called. “See you on stage!”

Michael’s forehead banged back down on the table. “Somebody please kill me.”

23

As the Crow Flies

The wind was warm and even, stroking his feathers like a soft brush as he scanned the streets below. A flash of instinct drew his gaze to a squirrel carcass someone’s tire had left tenderized on the street. Empty pain tightened A-12’s belly, but he didn’t descend for the inviting meal. The squirrel was not his objective, not his mission.

Soaring over the carcass, he flew for several miles before a flickering white sign and the smell of hot food triggered a recognition protocol. The building below was a restaurant. Like gas stations and motels, the diner was a location he was supposed to investigate.

He slapped his wings to his sides and plummeted.

A strange sensation, alien and exhilarating, filled him as he sliced down through the darkness. It had been like this since his first flight in the Farm aerie. Such meteoric drops from on high brought a contentment that was on par with a full stomach. The joyous feeling was as much a part of him as his feathers, or the cold metal filament lining his ribs.

His wings snapped out at the last second, catching the air and arresting his fall. After a quick series of flaps, he clamped his talons onto the glowing sign.

The door chimed below him, then opened. The oily mix of smells excreted from humanity wafted up to him as four females in glittering attire exited the building. A-12 opened his beak wide, drawing the scents into his modified olfactory glands.

Perfume, shampoo, sweat, nylon, diet cola…

A-12 cocked his head. There was something else, a faint trace that caused his twin hearts to quicken and his mismatched eyes to dilate.

The door chimed again. Three subjects, two male and one female, left the building. The smaller of the males smelled agitated.

“You two are nuts! I’m not going to do it.”

The new scent grew stronger in A-12’s olfactory receptors, triggering a recognition protocol in his frontal lobe. He stiffened.

“Don’t be such a baby,” the female said. “Just do as I say, and everything will be fine. I’ve been taking ballet since I was four, and attending dance camps since I was seven. Trust me, Michael, I’ve already got a killer routine. I was planning to perform it in the singles competition at camp. I’ve been rehearsing for the last two months.”

“I think she’s got a good idea, Mike,” said the larger male. “If Lina can win, we’ll save a lot of time.”

“You don’t…”

The smaller male stopped talking in midsentence, and looked back toward the restaurant.

A-12 huddled down, making himself as small as possible.

The larger male touched the smaller on the shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

The smaller male searched the darkness, his gaze crossing over A-12 at least twice without pause.

Finally, the smaller male shook his head. “I thought…never mind.”

The female slapped the smaller male on the back of the head. “Why are you being so stubborn?”

“Why are you being such an idiot?” the male countered.

The argument continued as the three subjects moved away.

“You’re the idiot. Why can’t you just do as you’re told?”

“Because you’re insane. You belong in a padded room with the rest of the…”

When the subjects were far enough away that A-12 no longer felt threatened with discovery, he straightened. Double-tapping his chest with his beak, he activated the monofilament disc beneath his skin. Stretching out his wings, he swooped after the three subjects, mismatched eyes glued to the small male. His beak opened wide, and a grating, un-birdlike sound emerged from A-12.

“Pry-mare-eeeee.”

24

Playing Dressmaker

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing, Mike,” Lina said.

The dressing room was a clutter of makeup, mirrors, and props from dozens of high school plays and musicals. Trunks and wardrobes packed with clothes lay piled against the walls, and a tall dressing screen stood in the corner.

Michael glared at the faded blue dress that hung over the top of the screen. “How many times do I have to say it? This isn’t going to work.”

“In the diner, you said merging with glass wasn’t dangerous around me.”

“I was talking about moving marbles, Lina. This is totally different. Besides, I don’t know the first thing about costume making.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen.” Lina’s T-shirt flopped over the top of the screen, and the dress disappeared. “We need this, Mike. I’ve been dancing for ten years. I’m good. Really good, actually. But that’s probably not going to be enough for me to win this thing. I haven’t practiced since getting this rock stuck in my hand. I haven’t even had time to stretch properly, so I’ll be a little stiff around the edges. Bottom line, we’re going to need a little extra something if we’re going to win this thing. I don’t know what kind of judges this school has, but a killer costume might just go a long way in glossing over a few minor mistakes. Plus, what else am I going to wear? I don’t even have a leotard.”

“I can’t just make things, Lina.”

A large straw sombrero bumped into Michael’s leg. “This one likes costumes, Awoken. May this one keep the costume?”

Michael nudged the hat away with his foot. “No. Put that back where you found it, Jericho.”

The giant hat tipped up, revealing Jericho’s petulant face. “Why can this one not keep the costume, Awoken? This one likes his costume.”

“Because I can’t fit that thing in my backpack,” Michael answered. “Plus, this is the third time you’ve run into me. You’re blind as a bat under there.”

“This one thinks you are jealous, Awoken,” Jericho huffed. The sombrero scampered away, bouncing off storage trunks and props with indignant principle. “This one has a better costume than Michael who is the Awoken.”

Lina stepped out from behind the screen. “What do you think?”

Michael’s mouth went dry, and he tried not to stare. The strapless dress fit well, molding to Lina’s body like a second skin from chest to hip before flaring out to a scandalous end halfway down her thigh. Lina looked fantastic, but the color of her dress was faded badly. Only the pristine, sheer, skin-tight white gloves that reached all the way to her elbows looked new.

Lina’s lips quirked upward at his expression. Suddenly, she swiveled her hips, causing the shockingly short hem of her dress to flare about her thighs. “You like?”

Clearing his dry throat, he said, “I think you should drop out now, before you embarrass yourself. That dress is so thin you can almost… well…”

“See through it?” Lina suggested.

Michael’s cheeks grew hot. “I didn’t say that!”

Lina laughed. “Relax,” she said, holding up his bag of marbles. “I won’t be dancing like this. We still have to make a few adjustments. Ready?”

Michael scowled. “You’d better hope this works. I liked those marbles.”

The sombrero bumped into Lina’s foot. She kicked Jericho away absently and set the marble pouch on the floor. “If this works, I’ll buy you new ones.” She brought her fist down on the pouch like a blacksmith’s hammer. She hit the bag a dozen times more before pouring out the powdery remains onto the floor. “That should do.”

“Good job,” Michael congratulated. “You killed my marbles.”

“Could you at least pretend to have a brain for five seconds?”

“That depends. Will it hurt?”

Lina planted her fists on her hips. “Are you going to do this or not?”

“Are you sure you want to do this, Lina?” he asked seriously. “Remember what happened last time. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What happened last time, Awoken?” the sombrero asked.

“Not now, Jericho. And take off that stupid hat.”

“This one likes the hat.”

Lina touched her fingers to her silvery hair. “This is getting worse, Mike. I can feel parts changing…inside me. I don’t want to wait for Diggs to earn gas money. I need to get to the dollmen as fast as I can.”

The dressing screen teetered and fell, flattening the sombrero. “This one is not blind, Awoken!” Jericho insisted from beneath the squashed hat.

“Just don’t let the stonesong merge with me, okay?” Lina said. “Diggs said that’s what caused the earthbone to mutate so fast. Just keep it in the glass. Compared to moving marbles around a plate, that should be easy as pie.”

Michael stared at her. She was changing, and more quickly than Diggs had predicted. Maybe they couldn’t afford to wait for Diggs to earn the money.

A soft double-tap came from the door, and Diggs stuck his shaggy head into the dressing room. “They’re starting out here. Are we ready?”

Lina gave Michael a questioning look. “Well, are we ready?”

Michael was torn. His skill with the stonesong was growing, but so, too, was its strength. Could he do as Lina asked without losing control?

“You can do it, Mike,” Lina said softly. “I know you can.”

“Whatever you want to do is fine with me.” Diggs eyed the crushed sombrero with a puzzled frown. “But if you’re not out there soon, you’ll be disqualified.”

Michael took a deep breath. “Give us a minute, Diggs.” His eyes filled with silver. “We’ll be right out.”

25

Dance of Light

The high school stage was made of polished wood framed by towering maroon curtains. Bright spotlights illuminated twisting plastic vines and leaves adorning the twin pillars on either side of the stage. Michael felt an uncomfortable flutter in his stomach. The auditorium was much larger than he had expected, as was the crowd that filled the tiered seats. A line of dancers waited their turns to perform just offstage.

“We’ll see you two after the show,” Diggs said. He shifted Michael’s backpack higher onto his shoulder and smiled at Lina. “I’d say break a leg, but you two are pushing your luck far enough already. I must say, you look absolutely stunning, my dear.”

Lina curtsied. “Thank you, Diggs.”

Her gown sparkled dazzlingly, even in the dim light. Held together by Michael’s will, the colored glass covering the gown rippled in glistening waves as Lina straightened.

“You’re welcome, Melina.” Diggs leaned in close to Michael. “Just remember to keep those sunglasses on, and to keep the stonesong from merging with Lina. We can’t risk speeding up her mutation any more.”

“As if I’d forget,” Michael whispered in reply. The stonesong squirmed, reaching longingly to the earthbone inside Lina. He pulled back, but the act was difficult. Keeping the power confined to the dress was like ignoring a maddening itch on his nose. “Let’s hope this doesn’t take too long.”

“Stay strong, Mike,” Diggs said, heading offstage. “Good luck to both of you.”

As Diggs went to find his seat, Michael and Lina joined the line of dancers. The competition had already started. On stage, one of the girls from the diner was spinning in rhythm to a thumping, busy beat.

Michael waited at the rear of the line while Lina went to talk to a severe-looking woman in a black dress standing at the head of the group. The woman checked the clipboard she was holding and said something. Lina nodded to the woman and then walked back over Michael.

“Who’s that?” Michael asked.

“Ms. Darwin, one of the judges. She’s in charge of the dancing order.”

“When do you go on?”

“I’m up next.” Lina’s eyes were on the girl performing. Her lips curved down into a speculative frown. “She’s pretty good. The best here, I’ll bet.”

The earthbone’s music resonated in her voice, seductive, magnetic, drawing him as a moth to flame. The stonesong quivered. Gritting his teeth, Michael tightened his hold on the slippery power. “But you can beat her, right?”

Lina didn’t answer, but her frown deepened.

The music rose to a crescendo. The girl from the diner finished her routine at the exact moment the melody stopped, and ended in a split, center stage. The applause was loud and long. The curtain came down.

Ms. Darwin consulted her clipboard. “Melina Smith?”

Lina raised her hand. “Here.” She stepped forward.

Michael touched her arm. “Wait.”

The earthbone’s song rose up from her skin, clawing at him with loud, humming fingers. He gasped and jerked his hand away.

“Are you alright, Mike?” Lina whispered.

“I was just…I wanted…” He tried to remember what he’d been about to say, but couldn’t seem to concentrate, or to take his eyes from Lina. It might have been the dress, or the lighting, but Michael realized Diggs was right.

Melina was stunning.

“Umm…Good luck, Lina.”

Lina gave an odd little smile. “Just don’t let my dress fall apart while I’m out there.”

He nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

With a tiny wave to him, she hurried out to center stage and knelt down on one knee behind the curtain. Her white-gloved fists resting on the floor, she let her long hair fall around her like a black and silver veil. A low, haunting melody filled the air.

The stonesong swelled.

“You can do it,” whispered Michael, unsure if he was encouraging Lina or himself.

The curtain rose and Lina exploded from the stage like a startled quail. The lights caught her gown, and audience gasped. Wrapped in a shimmering rainbow, she floated across the stage. Her leaps were elegant and poised, her toes barely seeming to touch the floor as she swept through a series of movements smooth as silk on the wind. At one point, she touched down on one foot and spun, and her glass dress became a whirl of sparkling flame.

The dance was like nothing Michael had ever seen, all light and motion and speed. He was mesmerized, and in that moment of inattention, his concentration wavered. The stonesong slipped, and a gauzy, three-foot strip of bonded glass broke free of the gown.

“Crud,” he growled, seizing the loose glass with the stonesong before the fragments broke away completely. Held by his will, the gauzy strip trailed Lina like a kite tail, flowing up and around her for long seconds before he could coax the glass back into the dress.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Neither the audience nor the other dancers reacted to the wardrobe malfunction. They must have mistaken the loose glass for some kind of thin scarf, and part of Lina’s costume.

The music changed, increasing in tempo. And Lina became a shining whirlwind, her toes caressing the floor for the briefest of moments before propelling her back into the air. The muttered conversation of the other dancers ceased. Even Ms. Darwin clutched her clipboard tightly to her chest and watched the stage with wide, unblinking eyes.

Michael barely noticed. Fists clenched at his sides, he fought a losing battle on a razor’s edge of his will. The earthbone in Lina’s body called more loudly with every passing second, chipping away at his concentration as he struggled to contain the stonesong.

A soft light appeared in the palm of Lina’s glove, and pure dread welled up inside Michael. The waystone was reacting to the stonesong. He was losing his hold.

A sprinkling of glass broke away from the gown.

No. He wouldn’t let this happen. Lina was counting on him.

Closing his eyes, he sank more deeply into the stonesong, seeking out the gentle melody of the glass amidst the thrumming of the earthbone. The song was there, buried, distant, but present. He strained to strengthen his connection to the glass and nearly lost his hold completely. The earthbone was too close, too potent. He couldn’t focus. He pulled back, feeling the dress coming apart in his mind. If he didn’t do something quick, Lina was about to become a very underdressed dancer.

There was only one chance. Gathering his will, he coaxed the glass gently away from the earthbone. The earthbone’s call slowly faded, and he focused all of his attention on holding together the glass. The music stopped, and a clipboard clattered noisily to the floor.

Michael opened his eyes.

Ms. Darwin made no move to pick up her clipboard. She, like the dancers around her, stared openmouthed at center stage, where Lina stood with her arms outstretched, face raised toward the sky.

The sight caused Michael to swallow thickly, his throat suddenly dry.

“Not good.”

He’d managed to hold the glass together alright, but only a light coating remained on the dress. Bound by the stonesong, the rest of the gleaming particles orbited Lina like curious fireflies, gently tousling her hair and gown as they circled.

“Definitely not good.”

Quickly, he willed the floating glass to the floor, but he knew he was too late. Any second now, the shock would wear off and outright pandemonium would ensue.

They had to get out of here. Frantically, he searched for Diggs’s shaggy head among the audience. He couldn’t find the drifter anywhere and thought about calling out for him. Then, he noticed the four men in black suits and sunglasses flanking the exits.

Belua.

Lina lowered her arms and curtsied.

Someone clapped, a startling gunshot of sound in the silence, and the spell was broken. Riotous applause spread through the room like wildfire. People rose to their feet, and they shook the walls with their cheers and clapping.

Lina looked stunned.

“Saints preserve us,” Ms. Darwin breathed.

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Michael ran past her and out onto the stage.

26

Belua Fire Drill

The wail of a fire alarm began before Michael was halfway to Lina. Flashing white lights appeared in small red boxes fastened high on the walls and above the exits.

The applause faded and died. The audience looked about uncertainly, and those near the rear began filing out the exits. The belua opened the doors for them like helpful ushers.

He skidded to a halt next to Lina. “We’ve got to go!”

“Did you hear them, Mike?” Lina’s cheeks were flushed with excitement. “I told you I could dance!”

The auditorium was emptying quickly. Nearly half the people had already gone out the doors.

“You’re a frigging rock star, Lina. Now, we have to go!”

Ignoring the music that roared through his brain, he grabbed her arm and began dragging her toward the curtains. They had to hurry. Ms. Darwin had already gotten the other dancers offstage to join the exodus.

“Get a grip,” Lina complained. “If there was a real fire, don’t you think we would smell smoke?”

A fold in the curtain parted in front of them, revealing a large man in a black suit and sunglasses. “She has a point, amigo,” Smiley drawled. “Where there’s smoke and all that.”

The remaining glass fell from the dress in a hissing rush. Michael pushed Lina behind him, placing himself between her and the belua. “Lina, go.”

Smiley chuckled. “Now, that’s not very friendly, amigo. I thought we were pals.”

Lina touched Michael’s shoulder. “There’s one on this side, too. Are they…?”

“Yes.”

“That’s right, Little Miss Riding Hood.” Smiley flashed his teeth. “We’re the Big Bad Wolves. And, my goodness, Grandma, what big eyes we have!”

“Get bent, freak.” Lina’s voice was like iron, but her fingers trembled on Michael’s shoulder. She leaned closer. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know.”

Smiley stomped hard on the floor and raised a palm to his ear. “Nope, no rock in here, just good old-fashioned wood. No windows to jump out of, either. Oh, you could try to tear down the walls, but I don’t think you want the roof falling down on our heads. So I guess you two are out of luck.”

The belua were ushering the last few stragglers out.

Smiley produced a metal syringe from his pocket. “Naptime, kids.”

Michael shot a glance over his shoulder. A heavyset belua with a blockish face was moving toward them from the opposite end of the stage.

Lina’s eyes were large and frightened. “Mike?”

Smiley shook his head. “He can’t help you, princess.” Glass crunched beneath the soles of his shoes as he moved toward them. “He’s got nothing to work with.”

The glass!

“I’ll have to use the stonesong, Lina, all I can handle,” Michael whispered. “I won’t be able to control it all.”

Smiley shook his finger at them. “Now, now, kids. No secrets, or Uncle Nabal will have to punish you.”

Lina’s fingers tightened on his shoulder. “Ready.”

“Stay close,” Michael said. His eyes flooded with silver, and flickering light spread out from him across the stage. Drawn by the stonesong, the crushed glass skittered in from all directions. He focused, and the crushed glass floated up from the floor, thickening into glowing bands that orbited them like Saturn’s rings.

Lina cried out. Her palm was glowing again. Smoke rose from the glove. “Hurry, Mike.”

The belua behind them had stopped several yards away. Syringe in hand, he eyed the floating glass uncertainly.

Less cautious than his companion, Smiley laughed. “You know, you’re just so cute together. I could eat you both right up.”

Michael’s eyes blazed. “Oh yeah? Well, eat this!” He struck the glass with every iota of the stonesong he could muster.

The glass detonated with a thunderclap, scouring the stage around Lina and Michael with a cloud of tiny cutting blades. The blast shredded the suits of Smiley and the thick-set belua, sending them sailing into the seats of the auditorium.

The silver light of the stonesong died, and Michael staggered. Lina caught his arm.

“Come on,” she said.

His head spinning, he let her drag him into a stumbling run backstage. He felt awful, but there was no time to catch his breath. Beyond the range of the explosion, the belua at the exits rushed toward the stage. Thick fur sprouted from their faces as they ran, and their clothes swelled and split around their transforming bodies.

Michael tripped over his own feet and fell, bruising his knees. A bestial roar sounded from the auditorium behind him. “Where’s Diggs?”

Lina heaved him off the floor and pushed him ahead of her. “I don’t know. Just keep running.”

As Michael ran by their dressing room, he caught a flash of motion in the doorway. He dodged, but wasn’t quick enough. A glancing blow struck his skull, and he spun into the wall. Stars burst before his eyes, but somehow he kept his feet.

A thin-faced belua stepped from the room and pressed a small button on his collar. “Contact in the eastern corridor.” He pulled a metal syringe from his pocket. “Preparing to sedate.”

The sound of Lina’s foot striking the belua’s midsection was not unlike a fastball striking a catcher’s mitt. The hybrid doubled over, and she put him down with a double-handed blow to the back of his neck. The belua groaned once, and then lay still.

Kneeling down next to the unconscious VEN agent, Lina rummaged through his pockets. “You okay, Mike?”

Michael touched his temple. The skin was tender where the belua had struck him, but seemed unbroken. “A little dizzy, but I’m okay.” Suddenly, he noticed Lina’s hair. For the first time, the silver strands outnumbered the black. “How about you?”

Lina pulled a fat wallet from the belua’s jacket and rose. The whites of her eyes had taken on a green tinge, as if her irises were spilling over. “Gas money.” She ignored his question. “Come on. We have to keep going.” She ducked under his arm, taking his weight as she half-carried him down the hall at a jog.

“I’m sorry, Lina.”

Lina blinked away a tear. “You had no choice.”

An eerie howl made them glance back. Three belua, hairy bodies bulging with muscle, were coming up the corridor behind them.

Michael stumbled to his knees. “We’re not going to make it together, Lina. Go on without me.”

Lina jerked him back up. “Shut up and run, you idiot.”

A red fire door swung open a few feet in front of them, blocking the hallway. A shaggy figure stepped into the hall, beckoning frantically with his hand.

“Move your tails,” urged Diggs. “They’re right behind you!”

Lina and Michael dove past him and Diggs slammed the door closed. Backing up a couple of steps, the drifter kicked at the doorknob, bending the metal, then kicked it again. On the third try, the knob finally broke free, bouncing off the pavement with a metallic ping!

Taking long slow breaths, Michael tried to settle his stomach while he got his bearings. They were in the school parking lot. Diggs’s pickup sat at the far corner of the small lot. The rest of the area was empty; everyone else had parked at the front of the school, in the larger, more convenient parking area near the main entrance. The front of the school wasn’t visible from the rear parking area, but Michael could already hear the warbling sirens of approaching police and fire services. They hadn’t much time before this area became a hotbed of activity for the local authorities.

Jericho bounced on his heels not far away. “The Fallen have come, Awoken. The People must flee.”

Bile rose in Michael’s throat, and he swallowed thickly. “You said it, dude. Just bring me a stretcher, and we’re outta here.”

Something heavy banged against the fire door, bending the metal outward.

“That’s not going to hold,” warned Michael.

“Not for long, anyway.” Diggs put his shoulder to the rattling door. “Run. I’ll try to keep them here as long as I can.”

Michael eyed the brick walls of the school and had an idea. “Get away from there. I’m going to try something.”

Diggs shook his head. “I don’t—” The fire door bulged outward, knocking him several feet back.

Michael’s silver eyes flared brightly and a hot spike of pain pierced his skull. Silver flames outlined the door, and the bricks surrounding the frame folded inward with a crunching squeal of protest.

A massive dent appeared in the door, then another, but the frame no longer rattled. The shifting brick had sealed the portal tight.

He released the stonesong with a ragged gasp. His head was on fire, and he tasted blood in his mouth. It took him a second to realize that Diggs had taken his other arm and was helping Lina prop him up.

“Nice job, Mike.” Diggs led him toward the pickup. “Now, let’s get you out of here.”

Jericho’s warning growl stopped them in their tracks. “Beware. The VEN are near.”

The stonesong jerked, and a large black hound padded out from behind the pickup. The hound moved toward them, hackles raised, but halted just a short distance from the truck.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Lina hissed. “But why is the mutt just standing there? Why doesn’t he attack?”

“It doesn’t need to,” Diggs answered. “The hound just has to keep us away from the truck long enough for the belua to bust through that door.”

The assaulted door gave a grinding creak!

“Crud,” Michael spat. VEN had them trapped between a hound and a hard place.

Lina tapped at the pavement with her toe and gave him a pointed look. “This is concrete, Mike. Can you do like you did in the school?”

Michael licked his lips. They were wet and coppery with the blood leaking from his nose. “I don’t think so. The stonesong feels too weak.”

Diggs muttered a curse. His expression hardened, as he seemed to come to a decision. “That’s it, then. Lina, get Mike into the truck.”

“What about the dog?” she asked.

“I’ll take care of the dog,” growled Diggs, shrugging off his coat. He shoved the garment into Michael’s hands. “Hang on to that for me, and don’t lose my pills. They’re in the pocket.”

Michael lurched after him. “Are you crazy? That thing is going to murder you.”

“Hold on, hero.” Lina restrained him easily. “The old guy sounds like he’s got something up his sleeve.”

“Yes. Have a little faith, Mike,” Diggs said. “And don’t forget about my pills.”

Jericho trotted up alongside the drifter. “This one will fight the Fallen with you, friend of the People.”

Diggs’s shoulders quivered, and he bent at the waist. “Your duty is to protect the…” He groaned. “…the Awoken.” His voice was guttural and pained. Thin muscles swelled under his shirt, stretching the fabric. “You need to…arghh… protect…arghh!”

“As you wish, friend of the People,” said Jericho. “Fight well. This one will protect the Awoken.” He bowed low and scampered back over to Michael.

Diggs convulsed. His shirt split down the back, revealing a curly mass of black-spotted white hair.

Lina hugged Michael to her. “What’s happening to him?”

The stonesong twitched, and a chill of pure dread ran up Michael’s spine. “No,” he moaned. “No, Diggs. Not you.”

Diggs straightened. His face was covered in short, spotted white fur, and his pupils had elongated into long, cat-like slits. “Get Mike into the pickup, Lina!” he roared, then charged the hound.

27

Trusting the Enemy

Diggs hit the giant hound at a run, catapulting the beast into the side of the pickup.

The hound banged off the fender, shook itself, and then leapt to the attack.

Diggs met the hound in midair. Wrapping shaggy arms around the animal, he spun, using the dog’s momentum to propel it far out into the parking lot.

“Diggs is one of them,” Lina whimpered. “What do we do?”

Michael didn’t answer. He felt numb. This couldn’t be happening. Diggs was his friend. He’d trusted the drifter to lead them to the dollmen city. Now? How could he trust a human-animal hybrid that had hidden his true identity from them all this time?

The hound hit the pavement hard and scrambled back up. Growling, the hound started for Diggs, and then its mismatched eyes settled on Michael. With a savage snarl, it veered away from the drifter and rushed toward Michael.

Diggs brought the dog down with a flying tackle.

“Go!” He struggled to hold the snapping jaws from his throat. “Go!”

Jericho tugged on Michael’s pant leg. “Come, Awoken. The friend of the People will hold the Fallen.”

Friend? Michael wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or laugh. Diggs was a belua. Did half-human monsters even have friends?

The hound did not fight like a typical canine, an animal relying solely on its sharp teeth for defense. Instead, it attacked like a cornered tiger, clawing and biting with equal fervor. Bleeding from a dozen cuts, Diggs refused to let go.

“Please, Mike,” he rasped. “Get in the truck.”

Michael stared hard into the pleading, inhuman, catlike eyes. His doubts evaporated like mist in the sun.

“Let’s get in the truck.”

“But he’s one of them,” Lina protested. “We can’t trust him, Mike.”

The hound jerked, slipping Diggs’s hold and sinking sharp teeth into the drifter’s forearm. Diggs shrieked like a wounded jaguar and drove his fist into the hound’s skull. The VEN beast reeled, and Diggs ripped his trapped limb free.

Michael grabbed Lina’s shoulders.

“Whatever he is, he is fighting for us. Get in the truck, Lina.”

Lina hesitated. “I don’t…ow!”

Jericho drew back his palm, ready to deliver a second swat to Lina’s backside. “Enough talk, thief. The Awoken is in danger!”

Lina rubbed her rear and glared at the little man. “You naughty little monkey.”

“Later,” Michael said. The fire door banged, bulging outward again. Jammed or not, the metal wouldn’t hold much longer. “Lina, the belua will be here any second. I can’t make you come with me, and I won’t leave you here. So, make up your mind. Are you coming, or are we going to die together in this parking lot?”

Lina looked back at the school, and pursed her lips uncertainly. “Fine. But if he eats us, I’ll kill you.”

“Deal,” Michael agreed.

Together, they ran to the pickup. Michael opened the door and jumped inside. Jericho hopped up onto the headrest behind him, and then Lina climbed in and closed the door.

“Okay, we’re in the truck. Now what?”

Michael threw Diggs’s jacket atop the dash. “How should I know?”

Lina gave him an incredulous look. Then, her face darkened. “This was your idea, genius. I wanted to run.”

Michael frowned at her tone, but realized she had a point. “Maybe we should flash the lights or something. You know, to signal—”

The VEN hound hit the windshield with a wet smack!

Lina screamed.

Flattening himself against the seat, Michael started to reach for the stonesong, and then stopped as the canine body skidded bonelessly down the glass, leaving a red smear in its wake. The tongue hung limply from the hybrid’s mouth, and before it slid off the hood to fall to the pavement, Michael saw the mismatched eyes were now dull and lifeless. “The dog’s dead, Lina.”

The driver’s door flew open, and a hairy, spotted belua crawled inside the pickup.

Lina screamed again. So did Michael, jumping away from the monster and into Lina’s lap.

“Knock off all that hollering,” the monster exclaimed. “Mike, where’d you put my…oh, there we are.” The hairy beast pulled Diggs’s jacket from the dash.

Michael blinked. “Diggs?”

The spotted belua winked at him. “More or less.” Removing the pill bottle from his coat, he clumsily worked off the cap with his claws and poured a couple of the remaining pills into his mouth. “Less now, but more in a few minutes.”

Lina shoved Michael off her lap. “Remember what I said, Mike.”

Diggs keyed the ignition, and the pickup rumbled to life.

“If he eats us,” Lina warned, “I’ll kill you.”

28

Gifts of the VEN

The spotted fur began to recede from Diggs’s face, withdrawing into his skin, as they swung out of the parking lot and onto the street. Gradually, his swollen muscles shrank and his slit pupils rounded. By the time they hit the edge of town, he had returned to normal.

Lina watched suspiciously during the entire transformation, and Michael pushed tight against her side, sitting as far away from Diggs as the small cab of the pickup would allow. Jericho seemed oblivious to the tension. Sitting on the headrest, he scanned the night sky for VEN crows on their tail.

Jericho’s indifference made Michael wonder if he had known about Diggs all along. It was difficult to read the little man. Perhaps the dollman didn’t think Diggs’s being a belua was all that significant.

Michael scowled. He’d trusted Diggs enough to get in the truck, but it wasn’t long before some of his doubts resurfaced. Why hadn’t Diggs told them he was a belua? Why hadn’t he told them he was one of the VEN’s monsters?

Michael scooted a little closer to Lina and kept a wary eye on the drifter. No one spoke as the pickup ate away the miles.

When the gas gauge fell dangerously low, Lina silently tossed the belua’s wallet onto the dash. Diggs nodded, and they pulled into the next gas station they saw. After refilling the tank on VEN’s dime, they got back on the road. Diggs finally broke the silence. “We’ll forget the back roads. By now, VEN will have figured out where we are anyway, so there’s no point in hiding. Speed is our greatest ally now.”

Lina snorted. Michael just glared at the drifter.

Diggs exhaled a long breath and nodded. “I understand why you’re angry, but let me explain.” Scratching his whiskers, he sighed. “I was sick for a long time. Cancer. I was on my last legs when VEN offered me a cure. A reprieve from death, they said, in exchange for my talents in microbiology. I didn’t believe them at first. But when they told me about the earthbone, showed me samples…it was like a gift from the heavens.”

“The Fallen’s gifts are lies,” Jericho muttered.

Michael’s scowl softened. “They used earthbone to cure your cancer?”

“They combined my diseased cells with those of a healthy snow leopard, eradicating the cancer. The earthbone cured me, all right, at the cost of my humanity.”

“How can that be?” Michael asked. “Your eyes are normal. You can’t be one of them.”

“I can’t explain that,” Diggs admitted. “Maybe it had something to the severity of my cancer, but my eyes didn’t change color like the others.” He smiled wanly. “I was the first—almost an accident. The process is far more refined now.”

“Better to die.” Lina ran her fingers down her silvery hair. “Better to die than become a monster.”

“Don’t say that, Lina,” Michael said. “If the earthbone can cure cancer, maybe the stuff isn’t all bad. Tell her, Diggs.”

“God forgive me, I agree with Melina,” said Diggs. “You can’t know what this is like, to live like this, to be something not…human. The earthbone is constantly trying to equalize my DNA with the leopard’s. My medication keeps the process in check, but the pills are almost gone. Soon, I will become as you saw me, forever a monster.”

“When we get to the dollmen city,” said Lina, “they can help you, right? They can take the earthbone out of you like they will for me?”

“That won’t work,” Diggs said. “If the elders reverse what’s been done to my physiology, my cancer will only resurface. With or without the earthbone, I’m doomed.”

“You’re a scientist,” said Mike. “Why aren’t you working on making more meds or something? You said you could probably slow down Lina’s and my mutations. Why aren’t you doing the same for yourself?”

Diggs looked away and didn’t answer.

“Because of us,” Lina said suddenly. “You’re trying to save us even though you’re still mutating.”

Michael edged away from Lina, taking his customary place in the center of the seat. “I’m sorry, Diggs. I didn’t realize.”

Diggs shrugged, and a sad smile appeared on his lips. “Me too, Mike. Me too.”

A sudden thought occurred to Michael. “VEN make those pills you take, right? Maybe after we reach the dollmen city, we can get you more. You know, like trade some earthbone for a refill or something like that.”

Jericho growled. “Beware, Awoken. The VEN’s gifts are lies.”

“I didn’t say anything about gifts,” Michael said. “I said trade, and if I can help Diggs, I can live with giving up a little earthbone. Heck, there’s a bunch in Lina’s hand that she doesn’t want anyway.”

Jericho bared his teeth. “The Betrayer is not to be trusted, Awoken.”

“Forget all that for now.” Diggs checked his rearview mirror. “We’ve got problems. Take a look behind us.”

Michael turned in his seat. On the highway behind them, three SUVs ignited their headlights in unison.

Jericho hissed, shielded his eyes, and dove down behind the seat.

Lina gripped her headrest so tightly the vinyl creaked. “Who are they?”

The SUVs drew closer; the stonesong gave a jerking twitch.

Michael turned to Lina. “It’s VEN. They’ve found us.”

29

Hang On

The SUVs accelerated. Two of them pulled alongside the pickup while the last began to pass it.

“They’re gonna box us in,” Michael said.

“Not yet, they’re not,” replied Diggs. “Buckle up.”

Facing forward again, Michael and Lina fastened their seatbelts. Diggs hit the gas, and the pickup shot ahead of the SUVs.

Jericho’s head popped up from behind the seat. “The Fallen come. We must flee.”

Michael craned his neck to look back at the dollman. “What do you think we’re doing? Just stay down, Jericho. You’ll be safer on the floor than up on the headrest.”

“As the Awoken commands.” The dollman disappeared again behind the seat.

Lina watched the SUVs through the mirror on the passenger door. “They’re gaining on us.”

Diggs swerved, cutting off one of the SUVs coming up on their right. “What’s back there isn’t our only problem. Look ahead.”

Michael’s breath caught in his throat.

A hundred yards in front of them, two SUVs were pulled up nose to nose, their heavy frames all but blocking the highway. The road was too wide for the SUVs to block it entirely, but in what was perhaps a six-foot opening between the vehicles’ bumpers, a dozen men in combat fatigues aimed their harpoon-like shock rifles at the approaching pickup.

“We’re trapped,” Lina cried.

A silver streak ricocheted from the hood in a cascade of sparks. Diggs cursed and Lina and Michael ducked down as more of the crackling harpoons clanged against the truck, leaving charred dents in the green metal. A harpoon struck the windshield, cracking the glass before careening away into the night.

Diggs’s whiskered jaw tightened. “We’ll just see about that.” Aiming for the narrow gap between the noses of the SUVs, he locked his hands to the wheel and shouted, “Hang on!”

The men shooting at them dove for cover as the pickup tore through the opening between the SUVs with a deafening shriek. Had the gap been a few inches smaller, they never would have made it, but the old truck somehow squeezed through in a shower of ripped metal and shattered glass. Michael shot forward, and his seatbelt jerked tight, whiplashing him back into his seat as the battered pickup cleared the blockade. Once through, the truck fishtailed wildly and slid toward a ditch.

Diggs cursed as he fought the wheel.

The tires hit gravel, and the rear of the truck dipped into the ditch. Michael held his breath. Abruptly, the pickup ceased its slide, and he exhaled loudly as they squealed back up onto the road.

The crash of a collision came from behind them.

Michael checked Lina’s mirror. One of the SUVs had tried to follow them through the roadblock, but their aim hadn’t been as good as Diggs’s. Instead of following the pickup through the gap, they’d struck one of the parked vehicles, spinning it in a half-circle and crumpling their own front grill in the process. As Michael watched, a second SUV attempted to pass through the shattered roadblock. It was nearly through the wreckage when a chuck of jagged metal tore open one of the front tires. Sparks flew as the rim banged down on the pavement, and the SUV came to a skidding stop. The driver of the last SUV was more cautious, bringing his vehicle to a screeching halt just short of the failed roadblock.

Michael tapped Diggs’s arm and pointed to the mirror. “There’s only one left. But he stopped. I think we’re good.”

“Don’t bet on it, Mike,” Diggs said. “They’ll clear the road and be on us again before you know it. Lina, check on Jericho.”

Lina rapped her knuckles on her headrest. “You okay back there, Shorty?”

Jericho popped up behind her. “This one is well, thief.”

Diggs nodded. “Everyone’s still breathing, then. Good. Jericho, you should get back down. Lina, keep an eye on that SUV. Let me know when they’re getting close.”

“Got it.” Lina turned around in her seat.

“Help me find an exit, Mike,” Diggs continued. Perhaps a half-dozen of the harpoons had struck hard enough into the grill and hood, and they stuck out like grey porcupine quills amid the oily smoke bleeding from the engine. “Don’t bother checking the map. At this point, any exit will do. We’re too exposed out here.” Michael searched the roadside for exit markers. The smoke was bad enough, but they’d lost one of the headlights in the collision. It was so difficult to see, he nearly missed the yellow sign with the snaking black symbol. “Turns ahead,” he announced.

Diggs grimaced. “Maybe the turns will slow them down. Just keep looking for an exit.”

Before long, a metal safety railing appeared alongside them, and the road began to curve sharply to the left. They were in the high country now, skimming the sides of steep forested slopes and rocky outcrops, with trees on one side and a dizzying drop on the other. Every turn they made, the hilly terrain hid them from their pursuers for a few moments before the SUV came back into view.

Diggs whipped into the first turn without slowing. “Listen, Mike,” he said. “No matter what happens, you have to get to the dollmen city. Jericho will lead you to the entrance.”

A tingle of foreboding touched Michael. “What are you talking about? We’re all going together.”

Diggs skidded around another turn, hugging the railing. “That’s the plan, Mike, but plans change. I need to know you’ll finish this, even if we’re separated, even if you’re the only one left. It’s too important.”

“Why?”

The pickup shuddered like an angry mustang. Diggs swore and worked the clutch. The shaking eased, but didn’t stop. “The earthbone, Mike,” he said. “No matter what happens to us, we have to convince the dollmen to close the tunnel to the surface. If the saturation levels continue to rise, rampant mutation will begin across the country and, eventually, the entire world. We have to stop it before that can happen.”

Michael was suddenly very aware of the earthbone’s hum emanating from Lina, so close, so very tempting. The stonesong drew its power from earthbone, and it was getting stronger. At this rate, he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to control it. “If we seal the tunnel, will it shut down the stonesong? Will I be normal again?”

The pickup’s wheels spat gravel as they swung into the next turn.

“I’m not sure,” Diggs admitted. “It’s possible, I suppose. There’s only one way to find out for certain.” He blew out his long mustache. “If not for Lina, I’d say use the stonesong to collapse the tunnel and be done with it. Even if it doesn’t cure you, the absence of earthbone in the air would make the stonesong far less dangerous.”

“Um, guys?” Lina interrupted, her voice strained. “Not to butt in, but you might want to grab hold of something.”

The SUV’s headlights filled the cab a moment before it plowed into them, pushing them into the railing. Sparks shot out from the pickup’s fender, and Diggs quickly swerved back onto the road. But the SUV hit them again, forcing them back into the railing.

“We gotta get loose, Diggs,” Michael shouted, pointing to a sharp turn in the road ahead. “He’s gonna drive us right off the road!”

Diggs jerked hard on the wheel, ramming into the side of the SUV. But the SUV was the heavier vehicle, and it shoved them back against the railing. “He’s got us pinned.”

Lina grabbed Michael’s arm. “Use the stonesong.”

“No. You’re too close.”

“So is VEN, you idiot. Use it or we’re dead!”

The pickup’s fender peeled away with a dreadful screech, tearing off the passenger side mirror before breaking away completely.

Michael ground his teeth. They weren’t going to make it. “Okay,” he said at last. “Just don’t touch me. I’ll try my best to keep the stonesong off you.”

“Just get that jerk away from us.” Lina scooted as far from him as the cramped cab would allow.

“I’ll do my best.” Closing his eyes, Michael released a whisper of the stonesong. Immediately, he felt the earthbone in Lina drawing on him, a ravenous black hole sucking at the stonesong. Tightening his focus, he moved away from her and down, pushing toward the road under the pickup. But when he got there… “Something is wrong. I can’t reach the rock.”

“What do mean?” Lina said. “The road’s right under us.”

“It’s all mixed up. The music keeps changing.” He strained harder toward the shifting hums—granite, concrete, sandstone, limestone, mica, granite again. The jarring melodies made his head hurt and changed so quickly he couldn’t latch on to any one of them. “We’re moving too fast.”

“Well, I’m not about to slow down,” Diggs shouted over the sound of grinding metal. “We can’t fight them and win. Our only chance is to pick up enough speed to outrun them.”

The SUV banged off them again, and the pickup skidded against the rail for half a moment before Diggs could pull it clear.

Outrun them.

Michael sat up straight in his seat. “Hit the brakes.”

“Are you cra—” Suddenly, Diggs’s whiskered face split with a wide grin. “You’re a genius, Mike. Hold tight.”

The SUV swerved toward them again, and Diggs stamped down hard on the brake. The pickup screeched to a stop.

Slow to react, the SUV overshot their front end and crashed halfway through the railing. Its white reverse lights came on almost immediately, but its rear tires spun ineffectually in the loose gravel.

Shifting gears, Diggs swung around the snared vehicle. “That won’t hold them long. As my daddy used to say, let’s git while the gittin’s good.”

Even as the pickup reached the next turn in the road, the SUV broke clear of the barrier and backed up onto the road. Diggs’s pickup rounded the turn, and the SUV was temporarily lost from view.

“They’re back,” Lina said.

Diggs looked at the mirror, then down at the red engine light blinking on the console. “Fine. We’ll do it the hard way.” He pried open a small panel below the steering wheel, revealing a colored assortment of fuses and wires.

“What are you doing?” Michael asked.

“Ah, here we go.” Diggs pulled two thin fuses clear of the panel, and the pickup’s taillights went dead. Then, he killed the headlights, downshifted, and slowed the truck to a stop.

“Why are we stopping?” Lina asked.

Diggs patted the dash affectionately. “We can’t outrun them, Melina. She’s game, but this old bucket of bolts just ain’t up to it.”

Michael sighed as the confusing melodies beneath him subsided to a singular hum. “Do you want me to use the stonesong? I can do it now.”

Diggs shook his head. “No. You were right earlier. We can’t risk it with Lina so close. Besides, I have another idea.”

“Shut off the lights and hope they miss us in the dark?” Michael leaned forward in his seat. They’d stopped directly over the center line. “Don’t you think we should park closer to the railing?”

“Yeah,” Lina agreed. “If we stay here, they’ll run us right over.”

Shifting into reverse, Diggs winked at her. “Not if we run them over first,” he said. “I know I keep saying this, but…hang on!”

The SUV roared around the corner behind them, and Diggs hit the gas.

Lina screamed and Michael braced for impact. Then the world exploded, and everything went dark.

30

One More Day

Something tugged on Michael’s shirt.

“You must awake, Awoken,” a distant voice said.

He groaned, but didn’t open his eyes. A hammer was beating a painful rhythm against the inside of his skull. “Hang on, Jericho. I’m up. Just give me a minute, okay?”

“No minutes, Awoken. The Fallen come. The People must flee.”

The Fallen?

His eyes snapped open. “Where…?” He blinked. “Jericho, why are you standing on the ceiling?”

Jericho glanced down at his feet. One of them was covering the pickup’s cracked dome light. “Because the ceiling is the ground now, Awoken.”

Michael frowned, confused, but then noticed the scattered fast food wrappers lying on the ceiling. Either gravity had reversed or the pickup was on its roof. “What happened, Jericho? Why are we upside down?”

“We fell far, Awoken. And you have slept too long. The People must flee.”

Michael lifted his head. The inside of the pickup was a crumpled wreck of broken plastic, dark mud, twisted metal, and glass. Lina was hanging in her seatbelt next to him. A shaft of wan daylight bled into the pickup from a jagged hole in the floor, painting her silvery hair with a pale luminescence. Her eyes were closed and there was a nasty swelling on her left cheek.

“Lina, wake up. Lina!”

She grimaced. “Not so loud. Sheesh.” Opening her eyes, she squinted against the light. “Well, that was fun. Can I get off the ride now?”

“Me first. Anything broken?”

She touched her swollen cheek. “Just a little banged up, I think. What happened?”

“Jericho says we fell. I think we got pushed off the highway when we hit the SUV. We must have gotten knocked out for a couple hours. It’s morning already.” He turned in his seat. “Diggs, are you…?” His heart dropped into his stomach. “Oh no.”

The driver’s side of the pickup had gotten the worst of the fall. The roof was touching the steering wheel and the door and hinges were just jagged ends of torn metal stained with a brownish-red substance that could only be blood. There was no sign of Diggs.

Lina tried to look around him, but her seatbelt held her in place. “What’s wrong? Is Diggs hurt?”

“I don’t know,” he replied thickly. “His door is gone. He could have gotten thrown out during the crash.”

“Do you think so?”

Swallowing back tears, he shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Diggs had warned him this might happen, had made him promise to find the dollmen and then convince them to close the tunnel. But could they really make it without Diggs? Jericho knew the way to the city, but the VEN was on their trail. And now they had to travel on foot.

He felt lost, too numb to think.

Jericho darted forward, closing his glassy fangs on Michael’s seatbelt. “The Fallen come, Awoken,” he mumbled. “The People must flee.”

The resilient fibers tore open and Michael landed with a thud! on the pickup’s ceiling. His head ringing like a dinner bell, he resisted the urge to throttle the dollman. Jericho was right. If VEN was coming, they needed to move, Diggs or no Diggs. “Thanks, Jericho. Now, cut Lina loose, and hurry. The light means it’s morning. We’ve been here too long already.”

Lina braced her palms against the ceiling while Jericho cut her free.

Michael found his backpack wedged behind the backrest and tugged it clear. Pushing it ahead of him, he squirmed out the passenger window on his belly. Lina followed, with Jericho bringing up the rear.

Outside the truck, a faint morning mist was rising in a small glen surrounded by evergreens and pine. A trail of upturned soil and torn foliage climbed a steep slope behind the pickup. The wreck had taken them quite a ways down from the highway above. The path of devastation left by the wreck disappeared in the brush several hundred yards uphill.

Michael shrugged on his backpack. There was no sign of Diggs, or the highway for that matter. They really had fallen far.

Lina began brushing wet dirt from her knees and hands. “The highway’s got to be up there somewhere. Should we start looking for Diggs?”

The stonesong twitched.

Michael went down to one knee. “That sounds like a good idea,” he said. “Just let me tie my shoe first.”

“We must flee, Awoken,” Jericho argued. “The Fallen are near.”

“We can spare a few minutes, Jericho.” Michael released a small portion of the stonesong into the ground as he fiddled with his shoestrings. He felt Lina first; the earthbone in her blood called out with seductive harmony. He pushed past her, downward and outward. The hills were filled with rock, sandstone mostly, and a throbbing hummed just beneath the soil. Flowing across it, he sought out the melody that did not belong.

The stonesong was stronger than ever. It took only seconds to find the cluster of discord near the top of the slope. But there was something else, something closer…

There.

He leaned over to Jericho.

“Something is watching us from those trees, Jericho,” he whispered.

The dollman’s eyes glimmered. “This one shall find out what, Awoken.” Dropping to all fours, Jericho sprinted away into the brush.

“Where’s he going?” Lina asked.

Pretending to finish the knot on his sneaker, Michael stood. “He’s too antsy. I sent him to scout ahead.”

Lina looked upslope, and her eyes grew troubled. “Maybe he’s right, Mike. There could be VEN agents up there. Maybe we should just—”

A bloodcurdling shriek pierced the air, and Lina dropped to all fours. Teeth bared, she growled at the trees like a cornered cougar. Michael made calming motions with his hands. “It’s all right, Lina,” he soothed. “It’s only Jericho back there. We’re all right.” But the words left a sour taste in his mouth. Lina was getting worse. The whites of her eyes were getting greener, and her skin was the snowy white of polished marble.

Lina’s growl trailed off, and she slowly rose to her feet. She stared at her muddy hands as if she’d never seen them before. “What’s happening to me, Mike?” she whispered. “What am I turning into?”

He swallowed down the dryness in his throat. “We’ll fix it, Lina,” he promised. Taking her hands, he began to wipe away the mud with the edge of his shirt. She didn’t resist, but her eyes looked dull and hopeless. “The dollmen will make it right.”

Jericho loped out of the trees. There was blood on his claws. “The tracker is dead, Awoken.”

Taking her hands from his, Lina gave Michael a tired smile. “I thought you sent Jericho to scout.”

“There was a VEN cat hiding in the trees,” he explained. “It would have led the others to us. I sent Jericho to deal with it.”

Jericho wiped his wet claws clean on his kilt. “Shall this one search for the friend of the People, Awoken?”

“No, Jericho. We aren’t going to look for Diggs.”

Lina frowned at him. “Why not? You think he’s dead?”

“I don’t know,” Michael looked up toward the unseen highway, his expression grim. “Maybe. Maybe not. After the crash, we were both unconscious. Diggs might have decided then that the only way to protect us was to lead VEN away from the crash. Either way, I don’t think we have time to look for him. The stonesong is telling me there are a lot of VEN agents up there.”

“You can feel them?”

He nodded. “I don’t know how. Maybe it’s because they use earthbone to make the hybrids.”

Jericho sniffed at the air, and then made a face. “This one cannot smell the Fallen.” He swiped impatiently at the thin mist all around them. “The floating water conceals their scent.”

“Good,” said Lina. “If you can’t smell them, they probably can’t smell us either. The question is, what should we do now?”

“Like Diggs said,” Michael replied. “We get you to the dollmen. After they fix you, we seal up the entrance to their city to keep any more earthbone from leaking out. How far is it to the entrance, Jericho?”

Jericho’s flat nostrils flared, as if he were testing the air. “Not far, Awoken. This one will lead you.”

“How long before we get there?”

Jericho pointed north. “The friend of the People brought us close. If we make haste, we will find the entrance before nightfall.”

Michael turned to Lina. “One more day. We can do this, Lina. We can fix you and save the world. Will you trust me for one more day?”

“One more day,” Lina echoed softly. She glanced down at the waystone in her palm, and her bleak expression hardened into something that resembled determination. “I’ll race you both.”

Michael smiled. Diggs might be gone, but VEN hadn’t won yet. “Last one to the city has to kiss a dollman.”

Lina snorted a laugh. “You are so losing this race.”

Jericho trotted toward the trees. “Come, Awoken. Come, thief. The city of the People waits.”

With Jericho leading the way, they left the clearing and disappeared into the trees.

31

The Forest of Earthbone

“Hold up, guys,” Michael said.

On the trail ahead, Jericho and Lina skidded to a halt.

“What’s up?” Lina asked. Tense as a wary mountain lion, she sidled up next to him. Her jade gaze flicked this way and that as she searched the surrounding foliage for whatever danger might be lurking nearby. “What do you see?”

Jericho sniffed the air. “Is it the Fallen, Awoken?”

Michael leaned heavily against a crooked tree and shook his head. “No. I just need a minute to catch my breath. You two are killing me.”

Lina’s posture relaxed. “Well, as long as we’re stopping, maybe you should check to be sure.”

He groaned. “I’m beat, Lina. I don’t know if I could hold onto it.”

They’d been on the run for what seemed like hours, along narrow deer trails and treacherous goat paths, on and on, ever deeper into the mountains. Occasionally, they stopped to drink from icy streams or to allow Michael to use the stonesong to locate and avoid the VEN agents speckling the countryside like a dark pox. But controlling the stonesong grew more difficult with each passing mile.

“Take a few minutes to rest,” Lina suggested. “You’ll get a handle on it.”

“Thanks.”

Michael’s legs felt like two lumps of lead, and a painful stitch had been growing in his side for the last ten minutes. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep on. Exhausted, he rested his forehead against a nearby tree

The stonesong surged, and he jerked back. The humming was coming from everything lately, even the tree. It was hard to think straight. “How much farther, Jericho?”

“We are very close, Awoken.”

Lina pulled back her hair. Using a small strip of cloth torn from her dress, she tied her silver tresses into a gleaming ponytail. “You’ve been saying that all day, Shorty. Do you even know where you’re going?”

Jericho gave her a petulant look. “We are close, thief.” Plucking a leaf from a nearby sapling, he trotted over to Michael. “You see, Awoken. Behold, it is the touch of earth and bone.”

Michael took the leaf, and suddenly forgot all about his fatigue. The leaf was hard and nearly transparent, like thin crystal or glass. He held it to his nose and inhaled a peculiar scent reminiscent of fresh cinnamon and hot asphalt.

Lina gasped. “Look at the tree.”

Michael stepped back from the tree. What he’d taken to be bark was in fact a rough fur. His gaze rose slowly up the hairy trunk. High in the tree’s branches, grayish pinecones opened and closed in a slow, steady rhythm.

“I think…I think it’s breathing,” he said.

Lina shrank back, and then gave a shriek as a cluster of ten-legged mushrooms scuttled away from her feet. The cry drew an angry whistle from above them. A blue-feathered squirrel exploded from cover and flapped away on four overlapping wings. Bizarre animal calls followed the squirrel until it disappeared in the distance.

Lina crouched low, her gaze darting from one mutated plant to the next. “What is this place?”

Michael rubbed his thumb against the crystal leaf, sampling its seductive melody. “It’s the earthbone. It must be mutating all of this. We must be getting close to the source. I think—”

A spark of silver leapt from his thumb to the leaf, and suddenly, his hold on the stonesong flexed and cracked. His eyes blazed silver and he fell to his knees. Clutching his head in his hands, he fought to contain the roaring in his mind.

Lina ran over to him. “Mike, what’s wrong?”

He couldn’t answer her. The earthbone was everywhere—in the leaves, the ground, even the air. It was like fire in his head.

“What is it, Mike?” Lina hovered over him, her expression tight with concern. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Jericho’s eyes widened and he began to back away. “You must not, Awoken. You have no waystone!”

Michael fought against the stonesong’s swell, but it was too strong. He couldn’t hold it. Steeling himself, he forced words through his trembling lips. “Get…away.”

“What?”

He smashed his fist into the dirt, and the ground bucked like a waking dragon. “Get away from me!”

Jericho darted into the trees.

“Run!” Michael screamed. Thick ropes of silver fire burst from his body, snaking into the ground and over it, merging with every earthbone-tainted thing they touched.

Finally, Lina ran.

The furry tree split with a thunderous crack, its grey pinecones detonating in quick succession. The scuttling mushrooms burst, and the forest shook as if caught in a tornado.

Lina swerved, narrowly avoiding the stonesong’s fiery tendrils. The silver vines followed her, drawn by the singing earthbone in her blood. One snaked in front of her, and she sprang over it and into the trees. Leaping from branch to branch, she fled as the world erupted in silver fire beneath her.

Still kneeling in the dirt, Michael rode the stonesong, bearing helpless witness to the violent destruction of hundreds of plants and thousands of insects. Every death sickened him, but he couldn’t stop, even when he began to feel the power tearing things inside him. The stonesong had been feeding on the earthbone for hours. Now, it was too powerful to control.

A line of silver shot up from the forest floor, striking Lina in midair and merging with her ivory skin. She screamed, but did not fall. Held up by a crackling net of silver light, she writhed in agony ten feet off the ground.

In the depths of his mind, Michael knew her pain. He felt the stonesong take her, felt the earthbone inside her spreading like wildfire, changing her bones, muscles, and organs. It was too much. In moments, she would shatter like the crystal leaf, another victim of the stonesong’s fury.

“No!” The vehement denial bursting from his lips, Michael smashed his fist into the ground in a shower of silver sparks. He would not let this happen. Lina would not die because of him. “No. No. NO!”

Suddenly, he realized what he must do. There was too much power for him to control. So instead, he would use it. He would pull the stonesong away from Lina and send it somewhere it could do her no more harm.

Burying his knuckles in the soil, he focused as he never had before, pushing the stonesong deep into the dark earth. The power resisted, slow to give up the earthbone all around him. Snarling, he bent it to his will, merging it with the untainted rock so near the surface. He pressed deeper, down, down into the rock and stone, straining to bury every iota of his power inside the earth.

The silver fire covering the forest dimmed, and then vanished. The ropey light supporting Lina died as well, and she dropped limply from the sky.

Michael felt his connection to her break, but silver fire still bled from his fingers, and he continued to pour the deadly stonesong into the earth. His breath came in short gasps, and blood dripped from his ears and nose, but he pressed on. He touched bedrock, the hard skin of the world. Its rumbling music was slow and vast beyond measure. He drove through it, pushing, stretching, reaching, until he touched…

There was a massive surge of molten power, as if he had touched all the rock in the world in a single, blinding instant, and then a stinging backlash of white-hot energy crashed into him.

The connection broke, and Michael fell back with a pained gasp. Lowering his head, he wiped the blood from his nose and tried to catch his breath. Strange. His power was spent, but he didn’t feel sick. Maybe he was getting used to the stonesong, or more likely, the earthbone was changing him like it was changing Lina.

A few seconds later, Jericho trotted out of the brush beside him, his pale skin spattered with fragments of broken leaves and the viscous pale sap of mutated plant life. “Are you well, Awoken?”

Michael nodded. “I’ll live, Jericho.” At least he hadn’t merged with the dollman. He would have known if he had. Drawing his hand from the fist-sized crater he’d left in the earth, he pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s check on Lina.”

A lithe form with long silver tresses dropped from the foliage above them and landed next to them. “This one is well, Awoken,” Lina said.

Michael’s heart skipped a beat.

Lina’s eyes glowed like tiny green lamps and her silver hair writhed as if with a life of its own. Lifting her hand, she pushed back a strand of her squirming hair with a talon-tipped finger.

Michael’s vision blurred with tears. “Lina, I…I couldn’t…”

Her ghostly fingers touched his cheek. They were cold and hard as stone. “It’s not your fault,” she said softly. “We just have to find the tunnel. The People will fix it.”

Michael nodded, but in his mind, he cursed the day he’d first laid eyes on the dollmen. “They had better,” he choked. “Or I’ll bring their whole stupid city down on their bald heads.”

Lina smiled, revealing a mouthful of pointy white teeth. “As you command, Awoken.”

Awoken, she called him. She sounded like Jericho.

Michael shivered. “We better get moving. With all the noise I made, VEN won’t take long to find us. Let’s find the entrance before they get here.”

“It is too late, Awoken,” Jericho said. “Come, this one will show you.”

Michael and Lina followed the dollman through torn brush and into mutated foliage that had escaped the stonesong’s destructive touch.

Seconds later, they climbed up the side of a small hill. Jericho paused near the summit to press his palm toward the earth, gesturing for them to stay low. Laying flat on their bellies, they squirmed up the last dozen yards to the crest.

Beneath a setting sun, the narrow valley below was home to a bone-dry creek bed, perhaps fifty feet wide, and a tall cliff. The face of the cliff was a smooth wall along one side of the valley, save for a narrow crack at its base just below the hill.

Lina pointed to the opening. “Is that the entrance to the city?”

“Yes, little sister,” Jericho answered. “And we are not the first to find it.”

A shadow moved inside the tunnel, then another. The stonesong jerked, confirming the identity of the animals before they even stepped into the light.

Michael swore under his breath. They had finally found the passage to the dollmen city, and VEN hounds guarded the entrance.

32

The Cave

A low growl sounded beside Michael. “Stop that, Jericho,” he said testily. “I’m trying to think.”

Jericho gave him a blank look. “This one has done nothing, Awoken.”

“Sorry,” Lina apologized sheepishly. “I’m a little worked up, I guess. So what’s the plan?”

Michael watched the two hounds move into the creek bed. “I’m not sure, but we have to get into that tunnel.”

Lina chewed thoughtfully at her lower lip, her tiny fangs putting small indents in her pearly skin. “That creek is full of rock. You could use the stonesong.”

“No! How can you even ask?”

“Look,” Lina began, “we need to get to the dollmen city, and those dogs are in the way. You can do this. That thing in the woods was a fluke. You were tired. You’ll control it better this time.”

Michael scowled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. The earthbone is all around us, and it’s feeding the stonesong. I won’t let it hurt you again.”

“Well, we have to do something. We can’t just sit here and wait for more VEN to show up.”

Jericho glanced nervously at the cloudless sky. “More will come, Awoken. The claws of the Fallen will find us if we stay.”

“You see,” Lina said. “Even the gremlin agrees with me. Look, if you’re worried about us being too close, Jericho and I will head back into the woods. But you have to take out those dogs, and fast.”

A snail with a shell that resembled a purple acorn oozed onto Michael’s pinky. Even the colorful slug hummed with the earthbone’s call. “It’s too risky.” He pried the snail from his finger, setting it atop a nearby branch. The acorn shell split the moment he released it, and the snail buzzed away on dragonfly wings. “We’ll find another way.”

Lina met his determined gaze for a long moment, and then she sighed as if in resignation. “All right, Mike. You win.” She turned to Jericho. “Hey, short stuff. You think you can take one of those overgrown puppies down there?”

Jericho grinned. “This one has killed many of the Fallen, little sister.”

“Hang on a minute,” Michael said. “You can’t—”

“Then let’s go.” Lina sprang from her belly, racing down the hill. Jericho was only a step behind her.

33

Stones and Hounds

The hounds took notice of Lina and Jericho in the same moment. Lifting their massive heads, they watched the intruders come, but made no move toward them.

“Come back here, you idiots!” Michael shouted. Scrambling to his feet, he ran after his friends. “Come back!”

But Lina and Jericho were far ahead. Bounding on all fours, they crossed the creek before he was halfway down the hill.

At the creek, Lina curved toward the hound on the right while Jericho went left.

The hounds growled at them, their black lips peeled back to reveal long, harsh fangs.

Michael ran faster, leaping over rocks and brush at breakneck speed. He had to stop them. Lina moved like a tigress and had skin like solid rock, but the hounds outweighed her by a hundred pounds at least. And Jericho, though agile, would barely make a mouthful for them.

Jericho reached his hound first. It lunged at him, but the dollman moved like lightning. Leaping over the dog, he alighted behind the hybrid, just out of reach.

The hound whirled and charged after the little man. At that exact moment, Lina spun away from her opponent’s back. It twisted to bite her, and Jericho struck its exposed throat as if he and Lina had orchestrated the entire maneuver. Snarling and slashing, the three tore at one another and rolled into the creek.

The second hound sprang to its brother’s aid. Seizing Jericho’s leg in its teeth, it pulled him away from the first hound’s throat and shook him like a rat.

Curling toward his attacker with a savage growl on his lips, Jericho scraped his claws across the hybrid’s sensitive nose and eyes; it continued to shake him despite the wounds.

Meanwhile, Lina locked her legs around the first hound’s ribs like a determined bull rider. The dog rolled and she lost her grip long enough for the hound’s teeth to close on her hand.

Lina shrieked. Seizing the hound’s muzzle with her free hand, she gave a sudden, twisting jerk. Its neck gave with a crunching snap! and it dropped to the ground.

Just then, a dozen hounds rushed out of the cave.

Lina’s eyes widened. Pulling her hand from the hound’s mouth, she rushed toward Jericho and his attacker. “Hang on, Shorty,” she yelled. “I’m coming.”

Before she could reach them, a small rock struck the head of the hound holding Jericho, opening a wide gash in the animal’s skull. The dog staggered, and Jericho fell from its jaws. The hound shook its head drunkenly, and then a head-sized boulder blasted it from its feet.

In the dry creek bed, Michael stood amidst a spinning cloud of rocks and pebbles, his eyes blazing with silver stonesong. He lifted his burning gaze to the pack of hounds racing out of the cave.

“You killed Diggs.” Rocks shattered in a rippling circle around him. “And now you want to kill my friends.” The stonesong burned like fire in his veins, tearing up his insides and filling his mouth with blood. He didn’t care. “You will not touch them!”

A wall of broken stone and earth burst from the ground in front of the charging hounds. Fifty feet long and half as thick, the wall rose like a tidal wave and then came crashing down on the hybrids like the fist of God.

When the dust settled, there was no sign of the hounds. They’d been buried completely beneath tons of rock and dirt. Michael felt them there, sensing with the stonesong the tiny hollows of fading life under the earth.

Lina and Jericho hurried over to him. The dollman limped a little. “You’re bleeding, Mike,” Lina said.

Michael touched a finger to his temple. It came away wet and sticky. A stray flying pebble or stone must have clipped him. The cut wasn’t deep. He hadn’t even felt it. “It’s nothing. How are you?”

She wiped her palm against her tattered dress. “Fine. He barely broke the skin. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Severing his connection with the valley floor, he shook his head. “I buried them alive, Lina. So no, I’m not okay. But I won’t let them hurt you, not ever again.”

Lina gave him an odd look, and then turned away. “I care about you, too,” she said shyly.

Michael’s cheeks grew warm. “Um…we should probably…” He coughed into his fist. “Let’s get going before anything else can go wrong.”

Jericho beamed. “To the home of the People, Awoken,” he agreed excitedly, running ahead. “Come, this one will show you the way.”

Michael chuckled. VEN had chased them across half the country, but here they were. They had made it. “You’ve done a bang-up job so far, Jericho. Lead the way.”

Lina’s smile was more reserved. “Mike?”

“Yeah?”

She bit her lip uncertainly. “When this is all over, I mean, if I’m normal again…”

“You will be.”

Jericho trotted happily into the crack in the cliff. “Come,” he called, disappearing into the narrow opening. “Come.”

Lina stopped just outside the opening, and Michael halted next to her. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Aren’t we…?”

Lina stepped closer to him, and he suddenly forgot what he’d been about to ask. As always, the earthbone inside her called to him, but its melody seemed strangely distant. His attention was engulfed, instead, by the ocean-green depths of her half-lidded eyes and the lavender smell of her long silver hair.

“Mike,” she breathed. She leaned into him, her lips inching closer to his own.

“That’s how we do it, amigo!” someone shouted. “Don’t stop on our account!”

Michael spun.

Approximately thirty men, led by a pair of large black hounds, were emerging from the trees behind them. Some were in camouflage fatigues and carried the harpoon-like shock rifles. Others wore grey lab coats and bore large packs on their backs. A few had the dark suits and sunglasses of belua.

Smiley waved from the front of the group, where he and another belua flanked an older man dressed in a pristine white lab coat. “Howdy, amigo!” he called. “I was just thinking about you!”

The men were roughly a hundred feet away, but Michael hesitated. He had no idea how many men and hounds were concealed in the surrounding trees, nor what lurked in the cave. Every instinct told him to run, but he had no idea which direction to take.

As if sensing Michael’s thoughts, the man in the white coat raised a hand. The majority of the men halted and began unloading packs and equipment as the man in the lab coat and the two belua continued on toward the cliff and Michael.

“Please, do not run,” the man in the lab coat called. His voice was smooth, with no hint of falsehood, and not unkind. “We are not here to hurt you.”

“And you wouldn’t make it very far,” Smiley added, grinning evilly.

The man in the white coat cast Smiley an irritated look. “This doesn’t concern you anymore, Nabal,” he said crisply. “Please, stop talking.”

Smiley’s face darkened, but he answered with a respectful “Yes, doctor,” and fell back a step.

Michael tensed, glancing uncertainly at Lina and then Jericho. They returned his gaze evenly, but said nothing, ready to follow his lead. They trusted him. Michael knew he should run, but he was curious despite his fear. The way the white-coated man had so easily cowed Nabal meant he was someone important, someone in charge. Michael knew he and his friends should probably make a break for the tunnel. But if they did, they might be blowing their only chance of getting some real answers from VEN.

“Who are you?” Michael demanded as Smiley and the white-coated man approached. “What do you want?”

“You may call me Doctor Equinox,” the man in white answered. “And what I desire should be obvious at this point. I want the earthbone. Not for myself, you understand, but for the betterment of all mankind. You may be too young to fully comprehend the gravity of our situation, but this world is crumbling beneath the crushing weight of war, disease, famine, and poverty. Humanity is suffering, and I believe earthbone to be the key that will deliver us from our torment.”

“Your VEN buddies are the only ‘torment’ I’m worried about right now, Dr. Frankenstein,” said Michael, clenching his teeth. “Don’t come any closer.”

A heavy thumping filled the air. Three helicopters cleared the tree line above the hill, their engines kicking up cyclones of grey dust as they descended toward the creek bed.

“Come now,” said Equinox, spreading his arms as if to encompass everything around them. “I intend to save the world from itself. A grand ambition perhaps, but one I am convinced is quite possible. And you, my young friend, can help me to do it.”

34

Equinox

Equinox crossed the creek, followed, a step behind, by Smiley and another belua.

Michael’s eyes blazed silver. “That’s far enough. Don’t come any closer. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Equinox halted a dozen yards short of the cliff. His belua guards stopped with him. “Very well, Michael. I dislike raising my voice in conversation, but this will suffice.”

“What are you doing, Mike?” Lina hissed. “Let’s get out of here.”

“They would follow us,” Michael whispered back. “I think I can close the entrance, but I need a few minutes for the stonesong to recharge. I need to keep this guy talking until I’m ready.”

The three helicopters landed and killed their engines. The men in grey coats began unloading boxed equipment from two of them. The last opened its doors to let out a group of black-suited belua and more camouflaged personnel.

“I see Melina is still with you, Michael,” Equinox observed. “Although, I dare say, I scarcely recognized her. Her transformation has certainly progressed quickly. Incidentally, one of my men made a tape of your performance, Melina.” He applauded lightly. “Absolutely breathtaking. Bravo, my dear.”

Lina’s eyes grew cold. “Oh please, please, hurt him, Mike.”

“Shush,” Michael admonished. “You’re not helping.”

“Sorry.”

Equinox clucked his tongue. “Playful banter under duress? How typical of your generation. Seriously, children, have you not grown tired of running? Have you even considered why you are running? You should. I only want to help you. Indeed, that was my wish from the very beginning of this ridiculous chase. Come with me now, and I promise you will not regret the decision.”

Michael laughed. “You mean we should give up? No thanks. We’d rather not spend the rest of our lives as prisoners in some laboratory.” He breathed deeply of the earthbone-saturated air. He could feel the stonesong getting stronger. It wouldn’t be long now.

Equinox raised an eyebrow. “Prisoners? My dear boy, look at the men beside me. They are as much children of the earthbone as you. I see no chains upon them. Indeed, I reward them based upon their potential—their uniqueness, if you will. Both of you have such incredible potential, more than even you can possibly imagine. Why on earth would I lock you away?”

Lina snorted. “What a load of crap. Your people have been trying to kill us for weeks.”

Equinox smiled disarmingly. “Ah, Melina, you are too cynical. I never wanted you dead. I am not a monster. I only wanted you brought in so that I could monitor your metamorphosis. You are a marvel, Melina, a sparking jewel of scientific wonder. I would never hurt you willingly. I only want to help you.”

“You lie.”

“To what purpose, Melina?” Equinox asked. “I have the technology, the expertise to analyze what’s occurring inside you. More importantly, I have a vested interest in discovering the secrets of the earthbone mutation. Or didn’t Dr. Curtis tell you of the earthbone’s invasion of our atmosphere?” He gestured at the trees, many of which bore fantastic signs of mutation, like giant fruit or crystalline leaves. “Like this valley, our world will soon change. You two are merely the forerunners, the first shadows of the dawning future. You must see that by now. Only I can help you unlock your full potential. I have dedicated my life to bettering the wretched condition of humankind. I am on the cusp of achieving that goal. And you can both play very important roles in the new world I intend to create. Think carefully, children. Is that not something you wish to be a part of?”

“I’m with Lina on this one, doc,” Michael said. The stonesong swelled, and he felt it reaching for the rocky walls of the tunnel. “The grinning wolfman behind you tried to kill us more than once. That kind of help we can do without.”

Smiley took a menacing step forward. “You’ve got a big mouth, amigo. How about I make it a little bigger?”

Lina growled and moved up next to Michael. “Come and try it, dogface.”

Smiley pulled off his glasses.

“That’s enough,” Equinox snapped. “I’ve had about enough of your insubordination, Belua Nabal. On your knees.”

Smiley flinched back. “Doctor, I—”

“Your knees,” Equinox repeated coldly. “Do not make me ask a third time.”

Smiley reddened. Bowing his head, he knelt on the broken gravel.

“Very good, Nabal,” Equinox said, turning his attention back to Michael and Lina. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes, the matter of Nabal’s trying to kill you. As you can see, I’ve had some disciplinary issues with him of late. The result of a few too many animalistic traits left over in his psychological makeup, I believe. I only recently became aware of Nabal’s disobedience. Please, accept my apologies.”

Michael simply stared at the man, forgetting, for a moment, the stonesong and the hum of the tunnel. “Your apologies?” he echoed, his voice shaking with rage. “Diggs is probably dead because of that animal! How can you apologize for that?”

Equinox tapped a finger to his chin. “So, our friend Dr. Curtis is missing. How unfortunate.” He sounded genuinely disappointed. “He was the first, you know. The first success in obtaining a human meld. What a waste.”

“Diggs was more than that,” Lina interjected. “He was our friend!”

Equinox frowned. “I can see that, Melina. Well, this certainly complicates matters.” He scowled at Smiley. “Tell me, children, if I were to kill Nabal, would that convince you of my good intentions?”

Smiley stiffened, but said nothing, remaining on his knees.

Michael’s jaw dropped. Equinox might have been asking if they’d care for a glass of lemonade for all the emotion in his voice. “What?”

“Belua Nabal,” Equinox clarified. “If I eliminate him, would you consent to join me? Or, if you like, one of you may kill him. Make no mistake, a belua is a valuable asset. Lately, however, as in the case of Dr. Curtis, Nabal has made a habit of exceeding his authority. I could confine him if you prefer. But if it will win your trust, I will put him down.”

“He’s bluffing, Mike,” Lina accused. “He wouldn’t kill one of his own.”

Equinox folded his hands behind his back. “I never bluff, Melina. I take no joy in this sort of thing. As I said before, I am not a monster. Still, I understand your desire to see justice done on Dr. Curtis’s behalf. I’m offering you a life for a life. In addition, I am offering you both the chance to play a part in the remaking of this planet, in the recreation of our species. What do you say?”

“What if I don’t want to live in a world full of mutants?” Michael asked.

“Don’t think of it as mutation. Think of it as evolution,” Equinox said. “I understand your misgivings. Fear always accompanies the unknown, but earthbone is the Holy Grail of medical and biological research. Bonded correctly, it has cured every disease I’ve been able to culture. It can make us faster, stronger, and virtually invulnerable to infection of any kind.”

“It turned me into a monster!” Lina cried.

Equinox shook his head. “Such lack of vision. Look in the mirror, Melina. There are millions of young girls across this planet, but none like you. The earthbone has made you unique, better than before. It cured Dr. Curtis’s cancer. It can do so for others.” His expression turned wistful, almost rapturous. “Think of it. In a few years, every known disease shall have a cure. Famine will disappear, and deserts will flourish with healthy melded fauna. In time, death, itself, will retreat before the miracle of the melding.”

“He’s crazy,” Lina said quietly. “Come on, Mike. Let’s go.”

Michael nodded. Smiley was a psycho, but Equinox made him look as harmless as an eight-year-old Girl Scout. The stonesong was ready. It was time to end this.

“I’m going to knock them back before I close the tunnel,” he whispered. “Get ready to run.”

Lina tensed.

“Now!”

Bright bands of silver light exploded from Michael’s hands, merging with the tunnel floor. The earth heaved, and a two-foot wave of broken rock surged out from the cliff toward Equinox and his belua guards.

Michael was careful to keep the wave from growing too high as he turned his attention to the walls. He didn’t want to kill anyone, only knock them down long enough for him to close the entrance to the tunnel. The walls cracked and shifted, and he backed deeper into the passage, keeping one eye on the VEN army outside.

Equinox observed the approaching wave dispassionately until it was almost upon him. Then he lifted his hand and made a shooing gesture. The wave of earth collapsed. “You think to stop me with the stonesong, Michael Stevens? Oh, how little you understand.”

A dagger of pain jabbed Michael’s skull, and he staggered as he felt the stonesong’s connection with the stones around him suddenly snap.

“Your power is yet new,” Equinox continued. “You still have much to learn.”

Gritting his teeth, Michael pushed the stonesong back into the rock. Cracks appeared in the walls and loose stone began to rain down from the ceiling. But try as he might, he couldn’t collapse the tunnel. Something was pushing against him, holding his power at bay, like a brick wall standing firm against a hard rain. Try as he might, he couldn’t punch through the obstruction.

Equinox cocked his head questioningly. “Do you begin to comprehend, Michael Stevens? Must I explain it to you?”

Michael ignored the man and pressed deeper into the stone, feeling out the dimensions of force working against him with the power of the stonesong. The barrier seemed to be focused in the first few inches of the tunnel walls, a long cylinder of binding energy that held the rock together against his best efforts.

“You cannot win, Michael. You are not strong enough.”

Equinox was right, Michael realized. Whatever was holding back his power, he couldn’t seem to break through. But then, maybe he didn’t have to.

Abandoning his efforts to collapse the tunnel, Michael sent the stonesong arching up through the rock, pushing around and above the power holding the tunnel together. High on the cliff, he found what he sought—a fault line. Knowing he had to work quickly, he focused his will, striking the fault with a wedge of the stonesong’s power.

Equinox smiled, and his eyes flooded with silver. “You are not the only Awoken.”

Michael had just enough time to gasp. Then, a sheet of rock the size of a football field sheared free of the cliff, sliding down and burying the tunnel entrance with a rumbling crash.

35

Silver Tunnels

Michael kept his fingers pressed against the wall as he made his way deeper into the passage. The rockslide had filled the tunnel with a cloud of choking dust, making it difficult to breathe and harder to see. Spitting out the grainy powder, he covered his mouth with his shirt while calling, “Lina! Jericho! Can you hear me? Where are you?”

Somewhere in the haze ahead, Lina replied, “Over here, Mike!”

“Have you seen Jericho?” Michael asked, moving a little faster along the wall.

“He’s right here with me,” Lina answered. “Keep moving. After a while, the dust isn’t so bad.”

Michael kept going. The dust in the air thinned quickly, and he was able to take his sleeve from his mouth. Just ahead, Lina and Jericho waited for him beside a three-pronged fork in the tunnel. Grey dust covered them both from head to toe.

“That was noisier than I thought it would be,” Lina said. “I was worried you got carried away and crushed yourself.”

“Equinox can use the stonesong,” Michael said. “He was fighting me, holding the tunnel open. I had to bring half the cliff down to seal up the entrance.”

Lina’s eyes widened. “That skinny old man can use the stonesong? How’s that possible?”

Michael sagged against the wall. He was dead tired. “I don’t know. But he said I wasn’t the only Awoken.”

“No longer,” Jericho said, shaking his head.

“What?” Michael asked.

“He is Awoken no longer,” said Jericho. “The People offered him the water of earth and bone. Now, he uses the stonesong to steal the life of the People. He raids the paths of earth and bone. He is Awoken no longer. He is the Betrayer.”

Michael sat down. “Well, that’s just super.”

Lina looked confused. “I don’t understand. The dollmen gave Equinox the stonesong? Why would they do that?”

“Because that’s what they do,” Michael replied with disgust. “Equinox is like me. He could only hear the music in the rocks before the dollmen had him drink a cup of earthbone-tainted water. Now, he can use the stonesong.”

“The Betrayer was once the sleeping,” Jericho went on. “The People heard his call in the stone and came to awake him. Then the Betrayer fell, demanding the power of earth and bone all for himself. This the People would not allow, and so many died. Behold, Awoken.” Scrambling up the tunnel wall like a spider, he broke away a small section of silver-streaked rock. “Do you see what the Betrayer has done?”

The stonesong swelled in Michael, pushing out toward the fragment. “That’s earthbone,” he breathed. Thin veins of earthbone covered the entire roof of the passage. “How can that be?”

“Maybe that’s why we can see.” Lina examined the silvery ceiling. “I was wondering why it was so light down here.”

Michael blinked. In all the excitement, he hadn’t even noticed the peculiar lack of darkness in the tunnel. He examined the earthbone more closely. “The earthbone’s not giving off any light that I can see. Maybe it has something to do with our mutations, but I guess it doesn’t matter as long as we can find our way. What I want to know is, what is all this earthbone doing so close to the surface? I thought it was supposed to be locked up in the dollmen city.”

“The Betrayer.” Jericho tossed the silvery chunk away. “The Betrayer draws it to him. He uses the stonesong to call to the earth and bone, and it heeds his cry.”

“Of course,” Michael growled, smacking his fist against the wall. “That explains everything.”

Lina frowned. “What?”

“Don’t you see?” Michael asked, shaking his bruised fingers. “Equinox couldn’t find the dollmen city, so he’s using the stonesong to draw the earthbone to the surface.”

Jericho nodded. “It is why the elders sent the People to find another sleeping to awaken, one who could do battle with the Betrayer and return to us the earth and bone.”

Lina gaped at Michael. “You’re going to fight him?”

Michael laughed. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t know where to begin. Equinox is a lot stronger than me.”

“You are the stronger,” Jericho insisted. “You are the true Awoken.”

Michael rubbed at his temples. “You’re wrong, Jericho. I was only able to close off the mouth of the tunnel by going around Equinox’s power. I surprised him, I think.” The earthbone was loud in his head, making it a struggle just to think. “I was lucky.”

Jericho stomped his pale foot. “The Betrayer is strong, but his power is guided by his waystone.” He motioned to Lina. “Your waystone was taken by little sister, who was the thief. The elders will free it or gift you another. Then shall you know your true strength.”

Lina’s lips pressed into a thin line. “So, Equinox is causing the earthbone to leak into the air? He’s the reason the trees and animals up there are so messed up?”

“Exactly,” Michael said. “He’s probably been drawing on the earthbone for years, pulling it out of the dollmen city. As the earthbone gets closer to the surface, the stonesong gets stronger and so does Equinox.”

The floor trembled. All three looked down the dust-choked tunnel. Cracking sounds like small detonations sounded from the passage. The VEN troops were clearing the entrance.

Jericho dropped to all fours.

Lina crouched low as well, steadying herself with a hand on the floor. “If Equinox can move rock like you, Mike…”

“I think we should get moving.” Michael pushed himself away from the wall.

“Good idea,” Lina agreed.

The tunnel shivered again.

“Come,” said Jericho, loping into the far-left fork in the tunnel. “We must be swift.”

Michael and Lina hurried after Jericho, following the dollman into the unknown depths of the mountain.

They walked on. The way twisted and curled. Corkscrewing passageways ended in dizzying drops or sheer walls; forking turns circled weirdly, leading to dark openings and secret shafts.

After about an hour, Michael called a halt. “Hold up, Jericho.”

“What is it, Awoken?”

“Why are we stopping?” Lina added.

Michael raised his hand for silence. “Do you hear that?”

Lina cocked her head. “I don—”

An eerie howl floated down from the tunnel behind them.

Lina glanced back. “Hounds?”

“Belua,” Michael corrected. He was tired, but there was no time to rest. The howl came again, echoing eerily down the network of tunnels. “I think they’re on our trail.”

“The hunters will not find us easily,” said Jericho. “Scent flows strangely down here. Tunnels will play tricks with the hunters’ noses.”

“They’ll figure it out eventually,” said Michael. “Let’s keep going.”

The grueling journey continued, down tight passages with hidden pitfalls, through vast caves with crystal hanging from the ceiling, or around wide pools of still, black water. The rocky network of tunnels was a spider web of intersections, slippery drops, and dead ends, their twisting ways burrowing ever deeper like the roots of some enormous tree with a trunk as wide as a mountain range.

Michael moved mechanically, paying little attention to the sometimes-breathtaking sights they happened upon as they moved deeper into the rock. His focus was elsewhere. Every step he took, the music of the earthbone grew louder in Michael’s mind. A pressure began to build in his ears, as if he were slowly descending to the bottom of a deep swimming pool. The stonesong fought him for release, but grimly he held it to him as he plodded on. His skull burned and his bones vibrated like a strummed harp string, but he held on. Lina had almost died the last time he lost control. He would die, himself, before letting that happen again.

He coughed and tasted blood on his lips. Wiping it away, he tightened his grip on the stonesong and kept walking.

As they walked, the howls of the belua grew steadily louder behind them.

Eventually, they stepped into an enormous cavern split by a deep chasm two hundred yards wide. Bridging the gap was a huge structure of worked stone, a grand walkway the breadth of a four-lane highway.

On the far side of the bridge stood a tall door of shimmering black metal, covered by arm-thick vines of silver earthbone.

“Behold, the Great Bridge,” Jericho announced, “beyond which lies the third gate, and the land of the People.” He scampered out onto the bridge. “Hurry. We are almost to the city of the People.”

Michael stumbled, catching himself on the waist-high wall of the stone bridge. “I can’t…I can’t make it.”

“Lean on me.” Lina placed Michael’s arm across her shoulders, took his weight, and half-carried him over the bridge.

On the far side of the chasm, Jericho waited with one hand on the shimmering gate. “This is one of the secret ways, shut to all but the Awoken and the elders. It was for him to open.”

Michael swayed drunkenly. The earthbone covered door was a humming fire, tearing at him with bright, greedy claws of need. “I can’t touch that, Jericho.” His whole body ached, pummeled from within by pent-up energy. “I could bring the whole roof down.”

“You need not, Awoken. Little sister carries the key.”

“We made it!” Lina exclaimed, raising her hand. The waystone burst to life, covering the door in soft, silver light. A booming gong sounded in the distance, and the gate split down the middle, swinging open.

Michael’s jaw dropped.

The gate opened onto a gently sloping hillside that overlooked a crystalline forest of trees. Vines of gold hung from the lofty branches, and leaves and flowers of unimaginable design and beauty climbed their glassy trunks. Small, multi-winged things darted among the bizarre foliage while huge moth-like creatures floated in the air among misty clouds of gauzy vapor. A wide river snaked through the strange wood before disappearing into the distance.

“This is a cave?” Michael exclaimed in disbelief. “Where’s the ceiling? I can’t even see the walls.”

“It is the home of the People, Awoken. Behold,” Jericho said, pointing to a massive structure of sparkling stone that rose from the heart of the forest. “The city of the People!”

“We made it.” Lina threw her arms around Michael in a fierce hug, lifting him clear of the ground. “We made it!”

The stonesong jerked.

Oh no.

“Put me down, Lina,” Michael barked. “Put me down!”

“What’s wrong?” Lina asked, releasing him.

Jericho tensed. “Beware! The VEN have come.”

With a bellowing roar, one of the belua that had crept up behind them sprang toward Lina.

Michael shoved Lina out of the way. A hairy claw swept down, searing lines of fire along his ribs and destroying his shirt.

“Mike! No!” Lina screamed.

Michael screamed with her, and his hold on the stonesong shattered. Bright silver fire burst from his lips and eyes, merging with the floor. The floor shimmered, and suddenly the belua was floundering knee-deep in liquefied rock. The belua clawed at the clinging stone, struggling to free its legs. Michael hardened the rock with a thought, trapping the hybrid’s legs and one of its hands in the floor.

“Mike, look out!”

A battering ram slammed into Michael’s side, knocking the wind from his lungs and sending him tumbling toward the chasm. Scrabbling at the rocky floor, he counted six belua coming down the bridge before he slipped over the edge.

36

Rescued

Michael grasped at the slick chasm wall as he dropped into the bottomless throat of open air. A foot below the ledge, his hand caught hold of a thin wafer of rock no wider than his finger. His body swung against the hard rock, ending his short freefall with a painful thud! Hanging by his fingertips, he looked for somewhere to place his swinging feet. The top of the chasm was right above him. If he could just find a toehold—

The thin rock in his hands snapped like a dry twig.

Ivory fingers closed on his wrist, halting him with a painful jerk. Lina lay on her stomach on the ledge above, her jade eyes wide and frightened as she clung to him. “Are you well, Awoken?”

Michael let out an explosive breath. “I am now. Nice catch.” A belua roared. “Pull me up. Jericho will need help.”

Rising to her knees, Lina lifted him from the chasm as if he weighed no more than a pillow. “I do not think so,” she disagreed. “The People have come.”

Michael came up from the chasm and gaped at the battle unfolding in the cavern behind her.

Eight belua were in the cavern, terrible beasts with frightening jaws and razor talons, more than enough to kill Jericho. But Jericho did not fight alone. Scores of silver-eyed dollmen swarmed over the belua, stabbing with short spears of blue crystal or ravaging them with tooth and claw.

Michael watched, dumbstruck, as a spear-wielding dollman dropped from the ceiling, landing on a belua’s shoulders and, with a savage war cry, ramming his weapon into the hybrid’s neck. Clutching its wound, the belua went down, and a wave of growling dollmen buried him.

Another belua shook his small assailants away with a mighty heave and sprinted for the bridge. He died a moment later, his great body pin-cushioned by a hundred crystal spears.

The other hybrids fared no better. One by one, they fell to the dollmen’s fury. In minutes, only a single belua remained alive. It was the first belua, the one Michael’s stonesong had sealed in the rock.

Spears raised, the dollmen formed a circle around the helpless VEN. The hybrid howled, swinging its one free arm wildly, but the dollmen stayed well out of range.

Jericho emerged from his brethren and trotted over. “Are you well, little sister? Is the Awoken safe? This one saw the Fallen strike him.”

“The Awoken is unharmed, brother. The stonesong protected him from the Fallen’s claws,” Lina said. “And this one is well.”

Michael opened his shredded shirt. Four thin bruises creased his ribs and stomach. The marks were tender to the touch, but the skin was unbroken. “So the stonesong can make my skin harder to cut. Be nice if I knew how to turn that on and off. Now, if you don’t mind, Lina, could you please stop calling me ‘Awoken’. You’re starting to freak me out.”

“What are you talking about, Awo…?” Lina raised a trembling hand to her lips. “Oh no. It’s already happened, hasn’t it? I’m one of them.”

“You are not a dollman,” Michael insisted. “Tell her, Jericho.”

Jericho looked away. “The little sister is correct, Awoken. The little sister is become. We are too late.”

A cold fist tightened on Michael’s heart. Lina had “become.” It was too late to save her.

“You’re wrong, Jericho,” Michael growled. “Never mind him, Lina. It’s just the earthbone working on your brain. You can’t feel it, but trust me, I can barely think with all the music it’s got buzzing in my skull.” He forced a smile. “Once we get that thing out of your hand, you’ll be the same irritating jerk I met in the park. You’ll be back to normal.”

“Back to normal,” Lina repeated softly. She smiled weakly in return, but her eyes were without hope. “I hope you’re right.”

A dollman stepped from the crowd to stand before the trapped belua. The little man was wrinkled and thin, appearing much older than the other dollmen. The ancient one held a staff of black metal. At the staff’s tip, a claw of silver earthbone gripped a tear-shaped jewel that glimmered with its own inner light.

“That’s a waystone,” Michael exclaimed. He took Lina’s hand. “That dollman has to be an elder. He can fix you. Come on!”

Jericho moved quickly to block their way. “Wait, Michael. It is not permitted when the elder must judge.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Fallen have come to the city of the People,” Jericho said. “The People must defend these halls. It is for the elder to protect us from the Fallen.”

Michael brow furrowed. “But that belua’s already beaten. He can’t hurt anyone when he’s stuck in the floor.”

Jericho nodded. “And that is why the elder must judge.”

The elder raised his staff, and the dollmen behind him drew back their spears.

The belua’s green and brown eyes widened. Covering his head with his free arm, he crouched down and began to whimper pitiably.

“Stop!” The cry erupted from Michael’s lips before he realized he was speaking.

For a second, no one moved. Then a hundred pairs of silver eyes, and a forest of spears, shifted from the hybrid to Michael.

The old dollman lowered his staff. “Who speaks while this elder judges?”

“He is the Awoken,” Jericho announced loudly. “This one has led him to the city of the People. Lower your spears, my brothers. The Awoken is friend to the People.”

Murmuring broke out among the dollmen and many spears drooped. The little men in front pressed closer, while those in the rear stood up on their toes or climbed right up the wall to get a better look at Michael.

The wrinkled elder tapped the butt of his staff loudly on the floor. The murmuring died instantly, and the dollmen on the wall dropped back down amongst their brethren.

The elder pursed his pale lips. “The Awoken would have the Fallen live?”

“Yes,” Michael answered simply. “He can’t hurt you. If you chain him up or something, I can probably figure out a way to get him out of the floor. We don’t have to kill him.”

“Why should we not?” the elder countered. “The Fallen are the instruments of the Betrayer, he who steals the earth and bone. They are evil. It is not good that even one of the Fallen should live. If the Awoken is friend to the People, should he not know this? Or is he friend of the Fallen and the Betrayer and not of the People?”

Several of the dollmen raised their spears at this, growling menacingly. The elder made no move to quiet them.

Lina nudged Michael. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “Let them have the VEN monster, for crying out loud. You’re going to get us killed.”

“I don’t care, Lina. This isn’t right.” Michael stepped away from her. “Stay here with Jericho.”

The dollmen melted before Michael as he walked toward the elder, closing their ranks behind him as he passed.

The elder waved to the trapped belua. “If you are the Awoken and a friend to the People,” he challenged, “then you must protect the city of the People. Kill the Fallen, or we shall—”

“Shut up.” Michael’s eyes lit with silver fire. “Now you listen to me, all of you.” He waved his arm to encompass every dollman in the cavern, and the ground shivered beneath his hand as it passed. “I am the Awoken!”

The dollmen shrank back, and a hastily thrown spear shot from the crowd toward Michael’s heart.

A bolt of silver light leapt from Michael’s hand, shattering the crystal spear midflight. “I am the Awoken,” he said again. “And I am not your enemy. I will help you fight the Fallen and the Betrayer. But not like this. I will not kill a helpless creature, not even if it’s VEN.”

The elder angrily shook his staff at the belua. “The Fallen are evil,” he said. “They have spilt the blood of our brothers and sisters. They must die!”

“You are right about VEN being evil,” Michael said. “And if one of us were stuck in the floor surrounded by belua, they would kill us without a second thought. But don’t you see? That is what makes them evil.” He pointed, and power snapped from his finger into the ground, surrounding the belua in a ring of silver flame. “Are the People just like VEN? Do they kill without mercy or conscience?”

The hybrid shrieked, batting ineffectually at the flames closing in around him. The cries turned Michael’s stomach, but he did not relent. If he wanted to change the elder’s mind, he had to make him see, to show him in grisly detail the overwhelming wrongness of what they intended for the helpless belua.

“Mike, don’t!” Lina shouted.

A small hand touched Michael’s leg.

“Do not,” the elder said. “You are right, stonesinger. We are not the Fallen. We are the People of the Mountain.”

The dollman waved his staff, and Michael felt a gentle pressure pushing back against the stonesong. He relaxed against the elder’s power, and the ring of silver fire sputtered and died.

“As you suggest, we shall bind the Fallen.” The elder pursed his lips thoughtfully. “If he does not attack the People, we shall then free him from the stone’s grip and release him into one of the high tunnels to find his own way back to the surface.”

“Thank you,” said Michael.

“Michael is not like the Fallen.” Jericho’s silver eyes gleamed with pride as he led Lina through the crowd. “He is the guardian of earth and bone. He is the Awoken.”

“Indeed.” The elder solemnly placed his staff on the floor before placing both hands flat to his chest. “I am Warmsoil, seventh elder of the People of the Mountain.” He bowed to Michael. “Welcome, Awoken.”

A hundred spears clattered to the floor as every dollman in the cavern followed the elder’s example. “Welcome, Awoken.”

As the dollmen greeted him, Michael noticed a pale figure kneeling at the front of the crowd. Black despair covered him like a cloak of shadow.

Her ivory hands clutched to her heart, Lina also bowed low to the Awoken.

37

The World

Equinox bent down over the microscope, examining the latest sample taken from one of the deeper tunnels. The fragment was eighty-two percent pure. Of course, he knew that without need of the microscope. The sample of earthbone-infused rock called to him with uncomfortable strength, even filtered through the waystone hung by a gold chain around his neck.

He breathed deeply, tasting the earthbone’s vibrations on the tip of his tongue. It was so clear now, so close, and a thousand times more potent then the faint hum he’d sensed buried in these mountains so long ago.

He’d been in his second year of college when the People had unleashed the sleeping power inside him. What a wonder it had seemed, to merge with rock and stone, to feel the very fabric of the world quivering at his touch. The glory of it had been breathtaking, and the waystone was a device unlike anything on earth. Of course, he’d analyzed the gem and the unusual silver element around it as soon as he was able.

Equinox straightened from the microscope with a regretful sigh.

So much time lost, so many lives lost for the sake of a better future. The People should have listened to him, should have accepted the role of earthbone in this newest evolution of the world. But the mutants were unwilling to see reason. They’d hidden the earthbone, refusing to share the location of their city, the element’s source. It was a pointless endeavor. Try as they might, the People couldn’t hide the earthbone from the stonesong, couldn’t prevent him from extending an invisible hand to draw it slowly from the earth. And now, the long years of effort had borne silver fruit at last. Very soon, he would have it all.

“What do you think, doctor?”

Equinox transferred his gaze to the longhaired young scientist hovering at the end of the examination table. “What do I think about what, Nelson?”

Nelson gave a nervous smile. “What do you think about the samples, doctor?” He nodded to the armored storage units stacked at the far side of the tent/laboratory. “It’s almost pure and… well, I can’t begin to imagine the possibilities.”

“I can, Nelson,” Equinox said. “Which is why I’m in command. Quite honestly, I’m somewhat disappointed in your lack of imagination. You are an intelligent man; too timid by half, I think. A truly exceptional scientist must be a visionary as well as a scholar. He must not be afraid to push the boundaries.”

Nelson’s smile faltered.

The flap behind the young scientist parted, and a bald belua stepped into the tent. Closing the flap behind him, the hybrid stood near the exit, hands crossed behind his back.

Equinox raised an eyebrow, inviting the belua to make his report.

“They are ready, Dr. Equinox,” announced the belua in a deep baritone. “We can move on your word.”

“Excellent, Belua Jeremiah,” Equinox said. He tapped the microscope with his finger. “Nelson, I want these samples secured the moment you’re finished. I want no chances taken with the earthbone.”

Nelson nodded. “Of course, Dr. Equinox. There’s a helicopter standing by. The first six containers will be on their way to the Farm within the hour.”

“Secure three more helicopters for transport,” Equinox said. Buttoning his white coat, he moved past Nelson toward the exit. “We’re bringing up more earthbone every hour, and I don’t want to leave any of it out in the open. While you’re at it, send three exploratory teams in a two-mile perimeter of the camp. The local environment has undergone significant alteration; have the team catalogue as many variants as they can find and send their samples out with the containers.”

“Right away, Dr. Equinox.”

Jeremiah pulled back the tent flap, and Equinox stepped out into the open air.

The makeshift lab was at the far end of the valley. The creek bed was nearly level here, placing the delicate equipment in less danger of being tipped or otherwise damaged. Two landing pads sat at the lower end in the valley, as well as several pavilion-like tents set aside for the workers and security forces.

Equinox lifted the collar of his coat. It was cool outside. The day was growing old. Long crooked shadows filled the valley as the sun slowly disappeared behind the mountains. A thin fog had begun to rise at the trees’ edge.

There was a twinge in the stonesong, and two VEN hounds padded around the corner of the tent. The ground units froze as they caught sight of Equinox and Jeremiah, but only for as long as it took them to identify Equinox’s scent. They sat down together, ears twitching attentively for instruction.

Equinox waved to the hounds dismissively. “Carry on.”

The dogs immediately resumed their patrol.

Equinox motioned for Jeremiah to follow and headed for the cliff. “How many do we have, Belua Jeremiah?”

Jeremiah removed a digital pad from his jacket and consulted the blue screen. “The units we had scouring the mountains are still arriving, doctor. Three twenty-man teams are prepped and ready to go. The rest should be here by morning.”

“Good enough for now,” Equinox said. Men in camouflage came to stiff attention as they walked through the camp, saluting Equinox as he passed. He didn’t bother returning the gesture. He was a scientist, not a general. How he longed for the day when he no longer had to rely on the services of ex-soldiers and mercenaries. “What about our modified personnel?”

They reached the cliff, and Equinox looked up at the huge gash carved from its face. It was a clever ploy, bringing down the rock from above while he concentrated on the tunnel. Considering the brutish way the boy wielded the stonesong, he wouldn’t have thought Michael capable of such a feat. The stonesong splashed out of the youngster like water over a failing dam—haphazard, without focus or restraint.

Equinox frowned. The boy’s waystone should have prevented such wild and potentially dangerous bursts of power. Was it possible that the People had gifted their newest Awoken with a flawed gem?

It was a possibility. In any event, the rockslide had proved to be only a temporary setback. Using the stonesong, it had taken him less than an hour to penetrate the obstruction. Strings of lights now illuminated a cylindrical passage he’d drilled through the fallen rock.

“Modified personnel are spread pretty thin,” Jeremiah said. “I’ve sent word to the Farm, and they’re sending transports. The first shipments will be here tomorrow morning. As of this moment, we have ninety-six hounds, thirty urban trackers, and thirty-six belua. Per your instructions, Belua Nabal has operational command of the human hybrids.”

“Only thirty-six? What of the belua sent into the tunnels?”

Jeremiah coughed uncomfortably. “They haven’t reported back, doctor. It’s a maze down there. Perhaps they became lost in the cave network.”

Equinox raised an eyebrow. “A highly trained collection of modified humans, who carry advanced communication equipment, have become lost underground? I think not. Give me an honest assessment, Jeremiah. I have no patience for unfounded optimism. It is a useless trait in an advisor.”

Jeremiah’s cheeks reddened. “Primary contact is the most likely explanation, Dr. Equinox. Since none of our belua have returned, we should assume one hundred percent fatality in the encounter.”

Equinox nodded. “I concur with your evaluation, Jeremiah. I might add that so many causalities would indicate an attack by a vastly superior force.”

“That is a distinct possibility, Dr. Equinox,” Jeremiah said. “I suggest we send the urban units into the tunnels to scout while we await reinforcements. The primaries aren’t going anywhere, and we will have a force of five hundred men and hybrids within twenty-four hours. If you’re willing to wait, we can triple that number in a week.”

Equinox stared into the tunnel as he considered, permitting the earthbone-rich air to fill his mind with its warm hum. Fifteen years he’d waited. Fifteen years eradicating cancers and other diseases in high-powered executives and politicians, consolidating his power base in preparation for this moment. Scores of powerful men and women were bound to his will by mutative suppressants only he could provide. Success was so close he could taste it.

“Inform Belua Nabal he is to organize the forces as soon as the transports arrive. I want him ready to move by noon tomorrow. And I will require two belua as personal escort.”

Jeremiah fumbled with his digital pad, nearly dropping it. “You’re going with them? Forgive me, doctor, but that is an incredible risk. For your safety, I suggest you refrain from venturing into the tunnels until our forces have secured the objective.”

“I will be going with Nabal, Belua Jeremiah,” Equinox said. “Send in the trackers tonight. I want a layout of the cave network as soon as possible. Also, have our guest prepared for travel. He will prove useful when we encounter the boy.”

“But, doctor, I just—”

Equinox’s eyes flooded with silver.

Jeremiah’s mouth snapped shut. Bobbing his head in a hasty nod, he turned and hurried toward the camp.

Equinox dismissed the hybrid from his mind, gazing into the tunnel with his liquid silver eyes. He was so close. “I’ve waited long enough.”

38

The City, At Last

Accompanied by several warriors, Warmsoil, Michael, and his companions, made their way down a well-trod path through the crystal forest. The magical wood housed amazing creatures. There was a bright red deer with a single black horn protruding from its forehead, luminescent birds, and giant snails with crusty, car-sized shells.

Mounted dollmen patrolled the trail atop four-legged feathered beasts with hooked beaks and large padded feet.

“They look like a cross between an eagle and a mountain lion,” Lina said of the strange mounts. “Sort of like that horse-eagle thing from Harry Potter, but without the wings.”

“They are called falcryn,” Warmsoil said. “They are fierce protectors and loyal companions. The Riders of the People cherish them greatly.”

As they passed a dollman rider, his falcryn reached up, snipped an arm-thick branch from a crystal tree with its beak, and began to noisily devour the crunchy foliage.

Michael shuddered. “Whatever you call them, I wouldn’t want to tangle with one. Those beaks look sharp.”

A few of the diminutive warriors laughed, and Warmsoil smiled. “You are correct, Awoken,” he said. “Though these falcryn feed mainly upon plants, it is not wise to anger them.”

The journey continued, and Michael continued to marvel at the underground wood. Everywhere he looked, impossible animals grazed or played among the gleaming trunks. It was breathtaking. He was almost disappointed when they reached the city gates. The tall gates already stood open, and Warmsoil guided them without preamble through the gates and into the city.

Hundreds of sparkling towers connected by arched bridges and ramparts overlooked a rabbit’s warren of corridors, halls, bustling streets, and dome-shaped rooftops. Dollmen dressed in all manner of clothing, from Jericho’s shimmering black kilt to long tunics of multicolored metallic weave, moved from building to building, carrying exotic foodstuffs or other tools and supplies like crystalline wood or worked stone. Females were present as well. Dressed in shimmering gowns, the silver-haired dollwomen were slightly smaller than the males and often had tiny infants or toddlers in tow.

Despite the magnificent sights, Michael grew more uncomfortable the farther they moved into the city. Dollmen paused to stare and whisper as he passed, and dollwomen hustled wide-eyed children from the streets. Wrinkled ancients glared at him from raised stone porches, unconcealed suspicion glowing in their silver eyes.

Michael leaned over to Jericho. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not welcome?”

“The People do not know you, Awoken,” Jericho said. “Do not worry. When the elders reveal you to the People, all will be well.”

Warmsoil stopped before a lofty white tower, with wide steps leading to a coal-black door. “The Tower of Elders,” he said. “The rest of the elders have already gathered inside. From here, only the Awoken and I may travel.”

“What do you mean?” Michael asked. “I’m not leaving Lina and Jericho out here by themselves. What if something happens to them?”

“None may enter the tower save Awoken or elder,” Warmsoil explained. “Fear not. No harm shall come to your companions in this place.”

“Forget it. I’m not leaving my friends.”

“It is not permitted, Awoken,” Jericho said. “Go with Elder Warmsoil and do not worry. I shall protect little sister.”

Lina grunted. “Listen to him, Mike. We’ll be fine. Besides, the sooner you talk to the elders, the sooner they can get this thing out of my hand.”

Michael frowned. “I don’t like leaving you alone, Lina.”

Lina lifted a handful of her silver hair. “Well, I don’t like this either. So stop being a ninny and go talk to the elders.”

Michael shook his head in resignation. “Fine, I’ll go. Try to stay out of trouble until I get back.”

“With you gone, what kind of trouble could I get in?”

“Very funny.”

“Come, Awoken,” Warmsoil said. He waved his staff, and the black doors swung open. “The elders wait, as does your destiny.”

“If you don’t mind, Warmsoil, let’s just meet the elders and leave destiny out of it,” Michael said, entering the spire behind the dollman. “The way things have been going lately, I don’t think destiny likes me very much.”

39

The Price of a Name

Michael leaned far out the oval-shaped window. It was a long way down. The Tower of The Elders was among the tallest buildings in the city. Somewhere far below, Jericho and Lina were waiting, forbidden by tradition to enter this sacred chamber.

“The danger is too great, Awoken,” Warmsoil said behind him.

Michael turned from the window. “But can it be done, Elder Warmsoil?”

The council chamber of the elders was tall and domed, devoid of furniture save for a large pillar of blue crystal set in the exact center of the snow-white floor of polished marble. Gems of every color and size intermixed with carvings of bizarre animals and plants on the inward-curving walls and ceiling.

The elders, seventeen in all, stood across the room from him in a loosely huddled crowd. Warmsoil had introduced them all, but Michael remembered only a few of their names. And right now, their expressions ranged from pinched and sour to frustrated and regretful.

Rockspeak, a sturdy dollman wearing a headdress of gemstones braided in silver wire, waved Michael’s question aside. “Your friend is become, Awoken. The elders have not the power to draw the earth and bone from her now,” he proclaimed in a gravelly voice. “Accept it.”

Michael clenched his fists. “I can’t accept that. I won’t. We came all this way. We fought VEN, lost Diggs. There has to be a way!”

The elders murmured to one another. Some of the little men gave him sympathetic looks, while others only shook their heads vehemently in denial.

Warmsoil raised his hand, and the elders quieted. “What you ask is beyond our power,” he said sadly. “It is true we elders can stonesing in our way, but we are not Awoken. The art of the elders is a grain of sand compared to the mountain of the stonesong.”

Michael slumped. “So that’s it? Lina’s going to stay this way forever?”

Warmsoil sighed, and leaned heavily on his staff. “Yes. Had you a waystone, perhaps you would possess the strength to free the earthbone from her flesh. But we elders cannot.”

Michael’s eyes lit up. “But I have a waystone now,” he said. “Show me what to do, and I’ll fix Lina myself.”

Warmsoil shook his head. “It cannot be done, Awoken.”

“Why not?”

“The waystone is bound to her,” Warmsoil explained. “If you touch it too deeply with the stonesong, the power will consume her. Only another waystone, combined with the power of the Awoken, might undo what has already been wrought by the binding.”

“Enough,” interrupted a grumpy ancient called Redflint. “This is pointless. You cannot save the little sister, Awoken. Nor do we have the strength to remove the waystone from her flesh. And even were you grown into your power, the elderstone we’ve given you has not the power of the waystone. You could not help her.”

Michael fingered the pendant Warmsoil had given him. “What do you mean? This stone works pretty good.” The moment he’d fastened the stone around his neck, the deafening music of earthbone had muted to a distant hum. For the first time in what seemed forever, he could let down his guard without worrying about losing control of the stonesong. “I can still hear the music in the rocks. It’s just different now, less noisy. Man, it’s like I’m listening through earplugs or something.”

Greendown, a husky dollman with a green handprint on his chest, leaned closer to Warmsoil. “What are earplugs?”

Warmsoil tapped his fingers along his staff thoughtfully. “I’m not certain. A surface ornament, perhaps? Not unlike a headdress, I’ll wager, only fitted upon the overlarge flaps around their ear holes.”

Greendown grunted. “If the Awoken desires them, I will send a scouting party above to bring him these earplugs.”

Redflint gave them a sour look. “The elderstone will quiet the music of the earth, yes. But it is not a waystone. It will not allow you to channel your full power, Awoken.”

“Then give me a waystone,” Michael said.

“Bah,” Redflint spat, his face screwing up like an ugly white prune. “Waystones do not fall from the ceiling. You would know such things if you took instruction.”

Michael took firm hold of his anger. He needed this little creep’s help to save Lina. “I’m sorry I lost the first waystone, Elder Redflint. But Lina needs a cure now. Please, can’t you loan me another so I can save her?”

“Only two waystones survived the great fall, Awoken,” Warmsoil said. “And the new little sister you have brought carries one of them in her flesh. Only a stone of equal power can remove it.”

“Well, what about the other one? Where is it?”

Warmsoil looked away.

“We will address the lost waystone in time,” Rockspeak said loudly. “Let us first speak of the naming the Awoken has done on one of the People. It is not a true naming. The Awoken must renounce this thing.”

Greendown stomped forward. “The Awoken has named the one,” he growled. A few elders nodded their assent. “Jericho will not be unnamed.”

Rockspeak showed his pointy teeth. “You speak in pride, Greendown, ninth elder of the People. All here know the one named is among your scouts.” Some of the elders nodded in agreement, exchanging angry glares with those who’d sided with Greendown. “All know the newest Awoken is young and untutored in our ways. He has made a mistake that must be undone.”

“It is you who speak in pride, Rockspeak, fourth elder of the People,” Greendown said. A distinct line began to form in the center of the room, splitting Rockspeak and Greendown’s supporters into two distinct groups. “Had the Awoken named one of the spears, you would not speak thus.”

“This is not good, Awoken,” Warmsoil said softly to Michael. “The People must stand together, now more than ever.”

Other elders began to argue the point, many shaking staffs or clubs in their fervor.

Michael scratched his head. “Is everyone here crazy? There is a VEN army knocking on the door, and Lina is getting worse. What’s the big deal with Jericho’s name, anyway?”

“Names have power here, Awoken,” Warmsoil said. “A single elder is named for each clan of the People. Look there.” He pointed to a spindly dollman standing to the right of Greendown. “Tallpath leads the riders who patrol the forest.” He shifted his finger to a squat elder behind Rockspeak. “Coldrun speaks for the climbers, those who venture to the great walls and climb the frozen heights seeking the high tunnels. Names carry their own honor here.”

“If it’s such a big deal, why does Greendown want Jericho to keep his name?”

“Jericho is one of Greendown’s far scouts,” Warmsoil said. “You have honored the scouts greatly by this naming. Greendown will stand with you against all others if need be.”

Michael felt an instant kinship with the green-painted elder. At least he’d made one friend among the squabbling elders.

“Rockspeak commands the spears, those who guard the secret gates,” Warmsoil continued. “His is the largest clan, and so feels his spears deserve the greater honor. But the old laws are set. Only an Awoken or a full council of elders may remove a name once it is given. Greendown will vote against the unnaming. So, Rockspeak must convince you to undo Jericho’s naming.”

“That is nuts,” Michael said. “VEN is coming. It’s stupid to argue over something so small.”

Warmsoil nodded sagely. “This is truth. But even something so small as a pebble can start the mightiest avalanche.”

The shouting match went on for several minutes.

Finally, Rockspeak, shaking with rage, threw down his staff. “You speak like a child, Greendown, ignorant and without wisdom. The Awoken will undo what he has done, or I will force him!”

Greendown hefted a serrated club. “Do you threaten the Awoken, Rockspeak?”

“Enough,” Michael said. “I’ve had enough of this.”

A wall of silver flames burst from the ground between Rockspeak and Greendown. The elders fell back on either side, shielding their eyes from the fire.

Squinting against the glare, Rockspeak pointed an accusing finger at Michael. “You see, my brothers? See how he wields the stonesong like a spoiled child, eager for attention? This Awoken needs instruction.”

“I’ve got no time to take lessons,” Michael exploded. “Are you all nuts or just stupid? Read my lips, you morons, VEN will be here soon!”

Rockspeak smirked. “The fear of a child. The spears of the People have defended the secret ways for generations. They will continue to do so.”

“You think killing a few belua makes you an expert on VEN?” Michael asked. Silver fire dripped from his fingers, causing rippling tremors in the stone floor as it struck. “You have no idea what you’re up against. Diggs said there is an army of hybrids, and they know you’re down here. Equinox wants the earthbone, and he’s coming to get it.”

“If more come, we will kill them,” Rockspeak said. “The Fallen will not enter this place.”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Michael shouted. “If we don’t get organized now, VEN are going to run right over you!”

“Indeed?” Rockspeak picked up his staff. “Do not fear, Awoken. The spears of the People will protect you.”

Michael clenched his fists, and the stonesong roared in his veins. A small hand touched his thigh.

“Calmly, Awoken,” Warmsoil warned. “The People will not be forced to hear your words. That is the way of the Fallen.”

Taking notice of the contemplative looks most of the elders were giving him, Michael realized Warmsoil was right. Losing his temper was playing right into Rockspeak’s hands. He needed to try a different approach.

The wall of silver fire died, and Michael’s eyes returned to normal. “You are right, Rockspeak,” he said evenly. “I am young, and I do need instruction.”

Rockspeak straightened his shoulders triumphantly. “I am glad, Awoken. The elders can begin your instruction as soon as you renounce this false name ‘Jericho.’”

Greendown’s face fell. “But Awoken…”

Warmsoil placed a restraining hand on Greendown’s shoulder. “Let the Awoken bring peace, my brother. It is his choice.”

“You misunderstand me, Rockspeak,” Michael said. “I do need instruction, but Jericho has earned his name a hundred times over. And neither you nor anyone else will take it away from him.”

Rockspeak banged the butt of his staff on the floor. “What trickery is this? You must remove the name.”

“It is his choice, Rockspeak,” Warmsoil interjected. “Let us be done with it. We must be as one if we are to face the Fallen in the tunnels.”

“The Awoken is not the elder of the spears, Warmsoil,” Rockspeak said coldly. “We know best how to defend our city. And it is at the gates, not the tunnels.”

Michael’s eyes flickered. “I’d reconsider that tactic, Rockspeak. The gates won’t stop Equinox, and if he gets in the cave, he could bring down the ceiling on top of you. We should face him in the tunnels.”

A few of the elders murmured their agreement. Far more looked to Rockspeak, awaiting his response.

“Ignorance,” Rockspeak snarled. “This Awoken is too young to direct the path of the People. The fifth clan will not abide his words.”

“That ignorant child had wisdom enough to bring himself here, Rockspeak,” Greendown pointed out. “The tenth clan stands with the Awoken.”

The elders looked to one another uncertainly, and then ancient Redflint stepped forward. “Rockspeak’s spears are the guardians of the gates,” Redflint rasped. “His spears will protect us as they always have. It is plain this child is Awoken, and will be mighty in his time. But it is foolish to trust our fates to one so unschooled in our ways. I am Redflint, and the twelfth clan stands with Rockspeak.”

Warmsoil’s eyes were sad as he moved forward. “You are old and wise, Redflint,” he said, “but in this you are wrong. Foolishness is to risk the lives of the People over a name. I am Warmsoil, and the seventh clan stands with the Awoken.”

One by one, the elders proclaimed their allegiance. Of seventeen clans, thirteen joined with Rockspeak. Besides Warmsoil and Greendown, Tallpath, leader of the falcryn riders, and Blacksong, elder of the earthbone workers, sided with Michael.

His followers in tow, Rockspeak headed for the chamber doors. “You will regret this, my brothers,” he offered in parting. “Together your clans number less than ten score. How many will die if you follow this child into the tunnels?”

“How many would live should you come with us?” Warmsoil countered.

Rockspeak’s lips tightened to a thin line, and he left without another word.

Greendown glared after him, tapping his club against his open palm. “Do not worry, Awoken. We are not spears, but our clans will not fail you.”

“I know that, Greendown,” Michael said. “Jericho is one of yours, and I’ve seen him fight.”

Greendown’s chest swelled. “Come, my brothers,” he said to Tallpath and Blacksong. “We must prepare our clans for war.”

Tallpath and Blacksong bowed to Michael and then followed Greendown from the room.

“The chisel has been set,” Warmsoil said sadly. He ran his hand along the smooth shaft of his staff, briefly touching the elderstone at its crest. “Rockspeak is not wrong, Awoken. The tunnels are dangerous.”

Michael sat down on the floor. “Do me a favor, Warmsoil. Call me Michael. All this ‘Awoken’ stuff gets old after a while.” He rubbed his face with his palms. He was so tired. “Equinox has the second waystone, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” Warmsoil said. “The People gifted it to the Betrayer when he first awoke. Now he uses his power to draw the earthbone from our home. I do not think you can take it from the Betrayer, Awo…Michael. Even if you could, you have not the training to save your friend.” He sighed heavily. “Darkness is coming. We four will stand with you against it, but our clans are small. Perhaps Rockspeak is right after all. Perhaps it would be wisest to stay close to the gates.”

“I know most of the elders think I’m wrong, Warmsoil,” Michael said. “But we can’t let Equinox get inside the main cave. I mean, just look at all this.” He knocked on the floor with his knuckles. “There’s so much earthbone down here, I could bring this tower down without breaking a sweat. What do you think Equinox will do if he gets anywhere near this place? The People may be brave, but how long will they fight the Fallen while their city collapses around their women and children?”

Warmsoil tightened his fingers on his staff. “You believe the Betrayer would do such evil?”

“You should have heard him talk, Warmsoil. I know he would,” Michael said. “And don’t forget the earthbone. Equinox has pulled the stuff almost to the surface. If we don’t find a way to stop him soon, the whole dang world is going to start mutating.” He leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. “I thought getting here was going to be the hard part. That once I found your city, you guys would fix up Lina and seal away the earthbone, and everything would get back to normal. Now look at me. I’m nothing but an orphan, and I’m planning to save the world all by myself.”

Warmsoil’s eyes softened. “Be brave, Michael. The heaviest rocks often fall first, but the entire mountain never crumbles.”

Michael touched the elderstone at his throat and thought of Equinox’s burning, silver gaze. “You’re wrong, Warmsoil. This time, the mountain is crumbling. And it’s coming right at us.”

40

Friends No More

Warmsoil and Michael exited the tower together.

“I must gather my clan,” Warmsoil said. “The tower will be your dwelling for the time being. It has many rooms, and you may rest or explore the city if you wish. I shall send someone for you soon. We must meet the others at the gate from which you emerged on the second hour.”

Michael glanced up at the misty, sunless sky. “I left my watch at home, Warmsoil.”

“I don’t understand. What did you watch at home, Awoken?”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Never mind,” he said. “What I mean is that I have no idea what time it is right now. How will I know when it’s the second hour?”

“Ah,” Warmsoil said. “I must ask your forgiveness, Michael. The People are unaccustomed to visitors.” Turning, he lifted his staff to a starburst-shaped crystal above the tower entrance. The crystal had ten long points, one of which glowed with a faint blue aura. “These are what you must ‘watch’ in the city of the People. It’s an hourstar. When the bottom point glows, it is the first hour. The topmost is the second hour…”

Michael listened closely as the elder explained the workings of the strange clock until Lina and Jericho walked up the tower steps.

Jericho bowed low as he approached. “Greetings, Elder Warmsoil. Greetings, Awoken.”

“Greetings, Jericho,” Warmsoil replied.

Jericho’s eyes widened, and the elder laughed.

“Yes, little brother,” Warmsoil said. “Rockspeak worked his hammer and chisel against him, but this new Awoken is not easily broken. You keep your name.”

“My Michael is a great Awoken,” Jericho said proudly. “This one is pleased to be named by him.”

“I,” Warmsoil corrected. “I am pleased to be named by him. You must learn these things if you would honor your name.”

Jericho bobbed his head. “As you say, Elder. This one…I will learn.”

“I have no doubt, little brother.” Warmsoil smiled and turned to Lina. “Do you know the bond, little sister?”

“I’m not sure,” Lina said. “Jericho has been trying to explain it, but it’s very confusing.”

Warmsoil nodded. “The bond is upon you, little sister, but it is incomplete. Your flesh is not fully become.”

“What bond are you two talking about?” Michael asked. “Does it have something to do with the way Lina’s been talking lately?”

“It is difficult to explain the bond to one not of the People,” Warmsoil said. “It is what connects the People, that which binds us to one another.” He pointed his staff to a cluster of dollman children across the street, playing some game with a round stone ball. “They are many, yes? Yet, if I wanted to call over only the child who holds the rollstone…” He tapped loudly on the steps with his staff, and every child looked up. “Come to me, little brother,” he called.

The child with the rollstone picked it up and hurried toward them.

“You see?” Warmsoil said. “Only one child comes. The bond tells him it was to him alone that I spoke.”

Hugging the rollstone to his chest, the boy ran up the steps and stopped before Warmsoil. “This one has come, Elder.” He spoke in a small, piping voice.

“That is a fine rollstone, little brother,” Warmsoil said kindly. He motioned to Michael. “I wished the Awoken to see it.”

The boy’s eyes widened, and then he bowed and extended the round stone to Michael. “The Awoken may have the rollstone. It is old, carved by my father’s father’s father. This one begs forgiveness for the chips and cracks.”

Michael raised his hands. “That’s okay, kid. You can keep your ball.”

The boy’s face fell. “If the Awoken wishes, this one shall find him another rollstone. This one would be honored to serve the Awoken.”

The little dollman sounded so disappointed and eager, Michael didn’t know what to say. He turned to Warmsoil for help.

The elder rubbed his chin as if considering the problem, but his silver eyes glimmered with mischief. “You are correct, little brother. It would be a great honor to serve the Awoken.”

Jericho grinned from ear to ear. “You speak wisely, Elder,” he agreed. “A great honor indeed.”

Lina giggled.

“Please, Awoken,” the boy begged. “Take this rollstone until this one makes another for you. Do not shame this one before the People.”

Michael scowled. Now what? He didn’t want to hurt the kid’s feelings, but he wasn’t about to take away a family heirloom. Suddenly, he had an idea.

“Here, let me show you something.” Taking the rollstone from the boy, Michael let a whisper of stonesong merge in the ball. It was old granite, battered and cracked, with dozens of minute fractures both inside and out. Perfect. “Now, watch close, little brother.”

The stonesong surged, and the rollstone burst into silver flame.

The young dollman gasped, and Michael smiled. Sending the stonesong coursing through the stone, he sealed the cracks and smoothed out the dents and scuffs. The children across the street ran over, their faces alight with wonder and excitement. Passing dollmen and women stopped in their tracks, turning their mercury eyes to the stranger who held a ball of silver flame in his hand.

“It is the stonesong,” someone whispered. “The Awoken has returned.”

“The Awoken,” echoed others. “The Awoken.”

Dollmen emerged from doorways or peeked out oval windows as word of the Awoken spread down the street.

The silver fire suddenly died.

Face glistening with sweat, Michael offered the now-flawless rollstone to the young dollman. “Here you go, little brother, good as new.”

The boy took a step back.

“Take it, little brother,” Warmsoil said gravely. “Do not dishonor the Awoken’s gift.”

Tentatively, the youngster reached up and took the stone from Michael. “It is wondrous, Awoken.” He ran his tiny hands over the ultra-smooth granite. “This one thanks you.”

Michael rubbed the boy’s bald head. “You’re welcome. And you don’t need to worry about chipping it anymore. It would take a stick of dynamite to crack that ball now.”

The boy smiled, and a gaggle of dollman children crowded forward to examine the new ball. Adults drifted closer as well, and soon the tower steps filled with pale spectators.

A silver-haired woman in a purple gown put her hand on Michael’s knee. “The Awoken,” she whispered reverently.

Lina lifted an eyebrow at the starry-eyed female. “You’re getting popular, Mike.”

Another dollwoman sporting a veil of gold mesh put her palm on his shin. “The Awoken.”

“Maybe too popular,” Michael said. More dollwomen pushed forward, placing their hands on his legs and thighs. “A little help, Warmsoil? I’m starting to get claustrophobic.”

Warmsoil’s staff tapped sharply on the steps. “Peace, my People,” he said loudly. “You have seen the Awoken. Please, return to your tasks. The Awoken has tasks of his own.”

The crowd bowed to Warmsoil obediently and began to disperse, the dollwomen herding the excited children ahead of them.

Warmsoil turned to Michael, an unreadable expression on his wrinkled face. “You bring new light to the People of the Mountain, Michael, but perhaps you shine the light a bit too brightly.”

“He means you’re a showoff,” Lina clarified. “What was with the light show?”

Michael flicked the elderstone at his neck. “I wanted to try this out before we met up with VEN. I didn’t realize I would attract so much attention.” He shook his head. “I see what you mean about the elderstone, Warmsoil. I can’t channel half the power I did before.”

“The elderstone is both curse and blessing,” Warmsoil said. “It offers control at the cost of strength. The Betrayer’s waystone will offer no such weakness.”

“We’ll deal with that when we come to it,” Michael said. “For now, let’s just try to stay alive.”

Warmsoil tapped his fingers against his staff. “Why carve the roof before the walls? Very wise, Michael. Now, I must gather my clan. I shall see you on the second hour. Farewell, my People.”

“Farwell, Elder Warmsoil,” Lina and Jericho said together.

With a parting bow, the elder took up his staff and headed down the street.

“So, we’re going to fight VEN.” Lina rubbed the waystone in her palm. “Before or after they take this out of my hand?”

“Hold that thought, Lina,” Michael said. “Jericho, can you do me a favor?”

“Of course, my Michael,” Jericho replied. “How can this one…how can I serve the Awoken?”

“Get some of your clan to scout the upper tunnels. Equinox is coming, I’m sure of it. I want to know how close he is and how many VEN he’s brought with him. Can your brothers find that out?”

“I will speak with Elder Greendown,” Jericho said, scampering down the tower steps. “Rest now, Awoken. I will return soon.”

Michael and Lina were alone now, and he glanced up at the glowing hourstar, avoiding her gaze. “I wish I could rest,” he said. “We’re supposed to be gathering the clans at the bridge. We are going to try to hold VEN there, but it might already be too late at that point.”

“They can’t do it, can they?” Lina said dully, staring down at her glittering palm. “The elders can’t fix me.”

Michael closed his fingers gently over her hand, hiding the waystone from her sight. “I’m sorry. They say I could do it if I had another waystone. But there are only two, and Equinox has the second one.”

“So, that’s it?” Lina’s eyes hardened and she yanked her hand away. “I’m supposed to just accept this, while you go back to your old life? I’d rather die, or better yet, join VEN. At least they look human.”

“Don’t say that,” Michael said. “I never said I’d leave you like this. I just need to get Equinox’s stone away from him. We can figure out the rest from there.”

“Yeah, right.” Lina turned her back on him and started down the steps.

Michael grabbed her arm. “Come on, Lina. You have to trust me.”

“How can I, Mike?” she demanded. “You said Equinox is stronger than you. Now, suddenly, you think you can beat him?”

“No,” Michael admitted. “Not in a fair fight, anyway. But I have a plan.”

“You have a plan?” she sneered.

“A plan that gives us an edge,” Michael said. “Please, Lina. Don’t give up on me now. I need you with me.”

Lina’s eyes softened for just a moment, but then a few strands of her silver hair slithered out to caress Michael’s cheek. Her lips tightened. “I trusted you all the way here, Mike,” she said. “Now, I need to trust myself.” Pulling away from him, she leaped from the steps and, running on all fours, quickly disappeared into the bustling streets of pale dollmen.

41

Planning the Battle

Warmsoil’s staff cut deep grooves into the floor, his art carving into the hard rock as if it were wet cement. A score of lines marked the stone, crisscrossing before branching away to small circles.

“There,” Warmsoil said, lifting his staff from the floor. “These are the near ways. There are more, but they lie on the opposite side of the city and the Fallen have not found them.”

Michael leaned in for a closer look at the map. Blacksong, Greendown, and Tallpath crowded in as well. Their gathered clans waited a little way off, between the gate and the Great Bridge—just over two hundred dollmen in scaly metallic armor, ready for battle.

Michael traced his finger over Warmsoil’s drawing. “These seven circles represent the gates VEN could get to?”

“Yes, Michael,” Warmsoil said. “Some have not been used in years, but the Fallen may find the paths.”

Michael tapped the largest of the circles. “This is us. Where’s the tunnel leading to the surface?”

Greendown, his entire torso covered in green paint, indicated a curving line on the opposite side of the map. “Here is the upper corridor, Awoken.” He moved his finger halfway down the line to a thick cluster of overlapping passages. “And here is where my scouts last placed the Fallen. We have killed many of their trackers, but still, they draw nearer with each passing hour.”

Michael tugged absently at his shirt collar as he considered the map.

“Is the weave too tight, Awoken?” Blacksong asked. “I am unused to crafting for one so large. Perhaps the neckline needs adjusting.”

“The shirt fits great, Blacksong,” Michael said. The dollman had replaced his torn shirt with one made of the same shimmering weave used in Jericho’s kilt. The fabric was far more comfortable than it looked, but it was almost too light. It felt like he was wearing a shirt made of spiderwebs. “Thank you, again.”

Blacksong bowed. “You honor me, Awoken.”

Michael nodded to the little man and then returned his attention to the map. “We need to find a way to close these passages,” he said, indicating several lines. “We need VEN to head straight for the bridge, not some side gate. Can your clan seal those tunnels, Blacksong?”

“My clan could have the four nearest completed by the sixth hour, Awoken,” Blacksong said confidently. “But the other two are further away. They will take longer to reach. Perhaps by the tenth hour all will be sealed.”

Greendown shook his head. “That will not do, Elder Blacksong. The Fallen will reach the far tunnels before the eighth hour.”

“My riders are swiftest,” Tallpath said. “Perhaps they could close the paths.”

“That’s an idea,” Michael said. “What do you think, Warmsoil?”

Warmsoil’s wrinkled forehead creased thoughtfully. “Tallpath’s riders are swift, but they have little skill in stonework. I fear the Fallen would be upon them well before the work was complete.”

“I agree with Elder Warmsoil,” Blacksong said. “Even skilled hands take time to bring down the stone. My clan can seal four at least, and perhaps the Fallen will not stray from the main path.”

Michael thought about it, then shook his head. “We can’t risk it. We have to meet VEN at the bridge, or they’ll run right over us.”

Tallpath shrugged. “If you wish it, Awoken, I will go into the far ways. But Blacksong is right. My clan is ill-suited to this work. Many will die.”

Michael chewed at his lower lip and tried to think. He didn’t want to send anyone on a suicide mission. There had to be a way. If only Diggs was here, or Lina. They would have some idea what to do.

Tallpath’s falcryn ambled over and nuzzled his shoulder, very carefully, with its wickedly hooked beak. It was an impressive specimen, a sleek blending of raptor and feline twice the size of a full-grown lion and with claws to match. So large was the beast, Tallpath’s head barely stood even with his mount’s heavily muscled chest.

The elder smiled as he gently pushed aside the monstrous beak, then stretched up an arm to pat affectionately at the downy feathers around the falcryn’s throat.

“Patience, great one. Soon we will ride.”

“Do you have a spare falcryn, Tallpath?” Michael asked suddenly, as an idea hit him.

Tallpath gave him a puzzled look. “Of course, Awoken, but there are not enough for my riders and Blacksong’s clan.”

“And we have not the time to spare even if there were,” Blacksong added. “I shall need all of my clan and their tools to seal the closest ways.”

“I’m not asking for them,” Michael said. “The stonesong can collapse those tunnels without tools. Tallpath just needs to get me to them ahead of VEN.”

Greendown scowled. “This is not good, Awoken. Who shall protect you so far from the city?”

“My riders shall die for the Awoken if need be,” Tallpath said gravely, “as will I.”

“You are brave, Elder Tallpath,” Warmsoil said. “But there are but forty falcryn. The Fallen choke the tunnels with their numbers.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Michael said. “We need those tunnels sealed, and I can do it fast.”

“I can go,” Greendown offered, “as can any of the elders. We too can sing the stone, if not as well as an Awoken.”

Warmsoil rapped his staff on the ground. “Do not seek to protect the Awoken with half-truths, my brother. I am among the strongest of the elders, and it would take me many hours to do as you claim.”

“It’s settled, then,” Michael said. “Tallpath, get me a falcryn. We should leave right away.”

“As you command, Awoken.” Tallpath leapt onto his falcryn’s back and gave a shrill whistle. Immediately, his riders broke away from the rest of the dollmen and came at a run.

“We have come, Elder,” they chorused before their leader.

“My People,” Tallpath said loudly. “The Awoken must travel to the far ways, and he has chosen us to guard him on his journey. Let us find him a mount.”

The riders let loose a howling cheer of delight, and a tawny falcryn was hurriedly brought forward.

Imitating Tallpath, Michael seized his falcryn’s feathery mane and threw a leg over its back. Though he was much larger than a dollman, the falcryn didn’t move so much as an inch as he settled his weight onto the web-like padding covering its shoulders and back. He glanced around at the other riders, noting how their spindly legs seemed tangled in the crisscrossed webbing of the falcryn’s peculiar saddles. After a few moments of difficulty, he managed to wiggle his own legs through several hoops of the padded webbing. He leaned to one side experimentally, and felt the loops tighten on his legs and thighs. He couldn’t fall off now, even if he tried.

“The Awoken sits like a rider born,” Tallpath announced, and his riders whooped approvingly.

Michael smiled. He felt good atop the falcryn. Not quite natural, but good. If only Barbara could see him now. “Jericho!” he shouted.

A single head popped up amongst the crouched dollmen. “I come,” answered Jericho, hurrying over. “Where do you go, my Michael?”

Michael shrugged. “We’re gonna race some killer VEN to a couple of tunnels before the world comes to an end. Wanna come?”

Jericho grinned and leapt up behind him with practiced ease. “Is little sister to come?”

Sadness closed on Michael’s heart like an invisible fist. “No, Jericho. Not this time.”

“Come, my brothers,” Tallpath whooped. He leaned back in his seat, tugging at the webbing around the falcryn’s wide neck. His mount reared, pawing the air and screeching like an angry hawk. “Let us ride!”

Michael’s mount reared up as well. It was terrifying, and the sound was deafening. He had never felt cooler in his life. When his falcryn finally came back down on all fours, it was already running. Michael clung to the falcryn’s webbing in a white-knuckle grip, leaning against the animal’s neck as it followed Tallpath’s mount toward the bridge. The dollmen near the bridge broke apart for the riders, and the falcryn galloped across the Great Bridge and into the tunnels.

42

Betrayal

The cavern was the size of a modest kitchen, with tunnels leading to the east and west. Ugly gouges scarred the once-smooth walls where VEN workers had carved earthbone-rich ore from the surrounding rock.

Diggs breathed deeply of the cool air. He smelled earth, the sweat of men, and other, less wholesome creatures. Blowing out his long whiskers, he continued to quietly strain against the chains attaching his wrist shackles to the wall. The sight of his furry hands on the links drew a feral growl from his lips, and a red wall of rage filled his vision.

“No,” he said aloud. “I’m not an animal.”

Forcing himself to remain calm, he ignored the urge to gnaw at the steel links and continued to pull on the chain.

The six-foot chains were too heavy to break, but given time, he could pry the anchoring piton from the wall. The anger was getting worse. He hadn’t taken his suppressants in days, and the leopard part of him was growing stronger. He had to hurry. Since his capture, VEN had kept him too sedated to consider escape. Why they had left him unguarded and conscious this time was a mystery, but they were certain to return with more sedatives soon.

The sound of approaching footsteps made him pause.

Putting down the chain, he closed his eyes and slumped against the wall, as if he were asleep. There was only one set of footsteps. If the guard got close enough, he could overpower the man, retrieve the key to his shackles, and make his escape.

The footsteps grew louder, bringing with them a soft and familiar scent.

Diggs opened his eyes just as a stealthy silhouette appeared out of the eastern tunnel. “Lina?”

Lina froze at the edge of the cave, and then stepped cautiously into the cave. “Diggs? Is that you?”

“VEN picked me up after the accident.” He lifted his shaggy hands to show her his shackles. “I haven’t had my meds since. Are Michael and Jericho with you?”

“They were in the dollmen city last time I saw them. I’m out here alone.”

Diggs frowned. “Why would…never mind. Help me get the piton out of the wall, and you can tell me about it on the way.”

“We thought you were dead. You weren’t supposed to be here.”

“Well, I’m not.” Diggs held out the chain. “Give me a hand, Lina. The guards could be back any minute.”

“No they won’t, but…” Lina looked away. “…I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

Diggs slowly lowered his hands. “What are you talking about, Melina? I have to help Michael.”

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” Lina said again. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t come here to save you.”

“Then why have you come?” Dr. Equinox asked, stepping out of the western tunnel with a pair of belua at his side. “I dare say, I thought to find you and young Michael Stevens inside the People’s cave.”

Diggs shoved Lina behind him. “Run!”

“No,” Lina said. “I’m through running. I’ve come for Equinox.”

“No, Melina!” Diggs said. “Equinox will kill you.”

Lina took his grasping hands in hers. “No, he won’t.” Pressing something small and cold into Diggs’s palm, she released him and started toward Equinox. “Trust me.”

The belua moved to intercept her, but Equinox raised his hand, and they froze. “My dear, am I to understand that you incapacitated your friend’s guards not to free him, but to challenge me?” He shook his head, and his eyes filled with silver. “How unwise. Your mutations are extraordinary, Melina, but you cannot hope to confront one who controls the very ground you walk on.”

“I’m not here to fight you.” Lina lifted her hand, exposing the waystone and the lines of silver metal in her palm. “This is the only waystone besides the one you have. I need you to take it out of me.”

“What are you doing?” Diggs cried. “The dollmen—”

“The dollmen can’t help me,” Lina said bitterly. “Neither can Michael. Or you. Don’t you understand? I want to be normal again. I want to go home.”

Equinox’s silver eyes faded to blue, and a small smile appeared on his lips. “So, the new Awoken has no waystone,” he pondered aloud. “That would certainly explain the wild fluctuations of his power. How interesting.”

“There’s more,” Lina said. “They’re planning a trap for you, for all of VEN. Take this out of my hand, give me my life back, and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Equinox nodded. “An interesting proposal. I can certainly remove the waystone, Melina. However, I can’t be certain to what extent I can reverse your mutation. The earthbone has been in your system for quite some time. In the event I am not completely successful, would you still show me the way to the underground city?”

“I’m getting worse every day,” Lina said softly. “If you take this rock out of me, I’ll show you the way.”

Diggs snarled, leaping toward her back, but his chain brought him up well short. “Traitor,” he roared. He channeled all of his anger into his voice, making it as believable as he could. Lina’s life depended on convincing Equinox she had betrayed them. “I’ll tear you to pieces!”

Equinox clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “Such aggression, Christopher, and from a scientist, no less. I understand you’re going through some changes, but a man of cerebral pursuits should not succumb so easily to the baser urges of mutation.”

His hairy face twisted with rage, Diggs jerked at the chain, snapping at Lina’s back like a rabid dog.

Lina glanced over her shoulder at him, her jade eyes full of sadness. “Like I told you, I didn’t come to fight Equinox.” A single tear flowed down her cheek. She made no move to brush it away. “I came to join him.”

On the outside, Diggs appeared to go completely mad, roaring and gnashing his teeth in impotent rage. But on the inside, he was calm as death, waiting for his chance to use the key Lina had so elegantly slipped him, the key she’d taken from one of the guards. The key that unlocked his chains.

43

Falcryn Riders

The stone melted down like hot wax, closing over the tunnel entrance beneath the stonesong’s insistent caress. The narrow passage, a winding corridor of stone only a short hour’s climb from the surface, opened along the wall of the wide tunnel Michael and the falcryn riders had been following for over an hour. Unlike some of the others, this opening was only a few feet wide, and so shouldn’t have taken him long to close. Or so Michael thought.

A section of the liquid rock he was so carefully teasing into a new shape with the stonesong suddenly stiffened and cracked. Breaking away from the rest, it fell to the floor with a crash, leaving a two-foot opening in the otherwise smooth stone he had molded over the passage.

Michael released the stonesong and glared at the hole. “Nuts! I thought I had it that time.”

Sensing his agitation, the falcryn shifted under him, whistling a kind of snort before settling back down.

“You must be gentle when singing the rock, Awoken,” Tallpath advised from the back of his falcryn. “You must be the chisel, not the hammer.”

Standing on the falcryn, Jericho peeked at the damage over Michael’s shoulder. “Pay heed, Awoken,” he said. “Elder Tallpath knows the stone.”

“I’m trying.” Michael wiped the sweat from his face. This was the last passage they needed to seal, but it was twice the size of the first, and he was exhausted. “This isn’t easy with the elderstone stunting the stonesong. I feel like I’m trying to lift the whole mountain.”

He looked to where the falcryn riders stood guard at a northern tunnel, the way the VEN troops would come. Tallpath had sent a half-dozen riders up the passage so that VEN would not take them unawares, but time was running out.

“I’m going to take this thing off for a minute,” Michael said. He reached for the elderstone’s clasp. “It’s just too hard with it on.”

Tallpath stiffened in his seat. “Do not!”

The head of the dollman’s mount jerked up at the harsh words. It shrieked, its hooked beak opening wide in warning as it took a step toward Michael.

Michael felt a moment of alarm as his falcryn swiveled to face the threat, but then Tallpath barked a single, sharp syllable, and instantly the two animals lowered their heads. Tallpath gave Michael an apologetic look before speaking again. “Your power will have grown greatly since you entered the city,” the dollman explained. “If you remove the elderstone, the stonesong will consume you. You will die, Awoken.”

Michael swallowed hard, and then slowly lowered his hands from the pendant. “Thanks for the tip, Tallpath. I’ll just take a few minutes to catch my breath, then try again.”

“Very wise, my Michael,” Jericho said.

A shout arose from the north, and one of Tallpath’s scouts burst into the chamber. “Elder Tallpath, the Fallen are upon us!”

Tallpath turned his falcryn. “Where are your brothers?”

“The Fallen came from the shadows in great numbers, Elder Tallpath,” the scout said. “We tried to flee, but only this one escaped.”

Tallpath’s silver eyes smoldered with rage. “How many Fallen?”

The scout lowered his head. “Your People cannot stand against them, Elder. We must flee.”

“They must have found their way down from the tunnel Lina and I used.” Michael asked, “How far are they?”

“They will be here in moments, Awoken,” replied the scout.

Michael turned to the gaping hole he’d left in the rock. The VEN troop must have travelled for hours to get this far into the warren of tunnels. This deep, they were far from being able to rely on any support from the surface. But if they found this side passage, that would soon change. Utilizing the passage, VEN would have a way of rushing down reinforcements. Worse, the discovery would cut through three-quarters of the maze of tunnels leading to the dollmen’s city. “Tallpath, take your riders and go.”

“What of you, Awoken?” Tallpath asked.

Michael put his palms to the wall, merging himself with its humming music. “I have to finish this. Don’t worry. Jericho and I will be right behind you.”

Tallpath’s expression hardened. “This cannot be, Awoken. Your People flee together, or die by your side.”

Before Michael could argue the point, a pack of black hounds burst from the northern tunnel. Falcryn screamed and bucked as VEN tore at them and their riders.

Michael gasped and clutched at the webbing as his mount reared, and Tallpath yanked a green lance from the webbing of his saddle. “Finish the seal, Awoken,” said the dollman. “Your People shall hold back the Fallen.” Kicking his heels, he spurred his falcryn into the heart of the fray. A hound leapt for the elder and Tallpath rammed his lance into the dog’s throat, killing it instantly. “Death to the Betrayer and the Fallen!”

“Death to the Betrayer and the Fallen!” the riders roared.

“Tallpath, no!” Michael shouted. “There are too many.”

“Leave him, my Michael,” Jericho said. “The riders do their duty. Do not dishonor them. Close the tunnel.”

Giant hounds flowed from the tunnel like an evil tide, and were met by the razor-sharp beaks of the falcryn, a forest of green lances, and the indomitable courage of the People of the Mountain. Four hybrids died for every rider they brought down, but the hounds just kept coming.

With every moment costing more dollmen their lives, Michael gathered his will and forced the stonesong into the fragile rock. His falcryn held perfectly still between his thighs, as if sensing his concentration. He didn’t rush, trying his best to ignore the battle riot around him. He had to do it right this time, no mistakes. After what seemed an eternity, the rock melted together, concealing the tunnel behind it.

Michael exhaled explosively. “It’s done.” Turning his falcryn, he looked for Tallpath amidst the melee. But the riders had bunched up at the northern entrance, and he couldn’t see the elder. “Tallpath!” He hoped desperately that the plucky rider still lived.

Michael breathed a sigh of relief when Tallpath galloped from the battle. Blood streaked the elder’s lance, and his falcryn bore deep gashes along its side.

“The way is sealed?” the elder asked.

Michael nodded. “Gather your riders, Tallpath. We need to get back to the bridge.”

Tallpath shook his head. “I cannot, Awoken. Even now, there are barely enough of us left to hold the tunnel. If we attempt to withdraw, the Fallen shall swarm over us like hotstone and butcher us.”

Michael’s mouth went dry. “What can we do?”

Tallpath’s face was grim. “You must return alone, Awoken. My clan will hold the Fallen as long as we can.”

“No.” The stonesong surged, and Michael’s eyes flickered silver. “We leave together, or not at all.”

Tallpath smiled sadly. “And who shall spring the trap if you fall here? No. If you would honor our deaths, Awoken, defeat the Betrayer before he reaches the city, and save the earthbone from the Fallen. Do this, and my People will not have died in vain.”

Michael dug his fingers into the falcryn’s webbing. “Tallpath, I—”

Jericho touched his elbow lightly. “It is the only way, my Michael.”

A pair of transformed belua broke through the riders, charging toward them. Raising his lance high, Tallpath swung his falcryn to meet them. “Go, Awoken. Go now!”

With an anguished cry, Michael kicked his falcryn into a run. Shame ate at him as he fled the cavern, and he urged his falcryn to greater speed as they twisted through the passages. His falcryn was fast, but the screams of the dying echoed in his mind long after he’d left the battle behind him. As they neared the Great Bridge, Jericho tapped his elbow again.

“The Fallen will track us, Awoken. We must beware.”

Blinking hot tears from his eyes, Michael shook his head. “You’re wrong, Jericho. From now on, it’s VEN who should beware.”

44

The Bridge

Michael’s falcryn came over the bridge, running full-out. The line of grim-eyed dollmen waiting on the far side split to let him through and then closed ranks behind him. He dismounted, and Warmsoil, Greendown, and Blacksong came running over.

“Where is Tallpath?” Warmsoil asked. “Where are the riders?”

Michael steeled his aching heart. “Tallpath and his riders died holding off VEN,” he said with a catch in his voice. “They died protecting me.”

The elders’ faces fell.

“Are you certain, Awoken?” Greendown asked. “I could send scouts to look for any survivors.”

“We’ve no time, Greendown. VEN will be here any moment,” Michael said. He nodded toward the bridge. “There’s more dollmen here than when I left.”

“You see well, Awoken,” Blacksong said. “Before we could close the ways, the Fallen discovered the tunnels and attacked two of the secret gates. Many of the People perished before we could finish the work. Rockspeak and the elders have reconsidered your words, Awoken. The People rally now to every tunnel that leads from the surface to the city. The secret ways are few and small compared to the tunnels leading to the Great Bridge. Nevertheless, all must be sealed before the Fallen discover and use them to take us unawares. Many warriors of the People are seeing to the work, but Rockspeak sends what few spears he can spare to stand with us here.”

“Was Equinox at either of the attacks?”

“None have seen the Betrayer, Awoken,” Greendown said. “He was not among those at the gates.”

Michael breathed a sigh of relief. They needed Equinox here.

An eerie howl echoed in the air, and all eyes turned to the bridge.

“That’s a belua.” Michael’s eyes flooded with silver light. “Get the People ready, guys. We have to hold VEN on the bridge until we spot Equinox. Everything depends on it.”

The elders bowed. “As you command, Awoken.”

“As you command, my Michael,” Jericho said.

“Good enough,” Michael said. “Stay close, and remember to wait for my signal.”

“We elders shall help you as much as we are able,” Warmsoil said. “But the rock of the Great Bridge is strong and you have no waystone. Are you certain your strategy will succeed, Awoken?”

Before Michael could reply, a pack of black hounds appeared on the bridge, followed by hairy belua and scores of men in dusty combat fatigues.

“Equinox is the key,” Michael said. “We stop him, and we stop VEN. Stop the Betrayer, and we save the world.”

“A gift, Awoken.” Blacksong tossed Michael a spear three times the length of the dollmen’s crystal lances. “My clan forged it for you while you were away. Use it well.”

“Thank you, Blacksong.” Michael hefted the weapon. Metallic fiber covered the blue metal shaft, and the tip was a razor-edged point of crystal. “I think this will come in handy.”

Jericho lifted a shorter spear from a pile nearby. “Death to the Fallen, Awoken.”

Fear clamped Michael’s belly, and he gripped his spear more tightly. “Death to the Fallen, Jericho.” He ran with the dollmen to join the battle line.

45

Stonesong

The VEN troops came over the bridge like an evil tide—mercenaries in the rear, shock rifles leveled and ready, and belua and hounds in the front, jaws wide and foaming. But of Equinox, there was no sign.

Michael raised his arm high. “Ready!”

The dollmen drew back their spears.

The horde rushed toward them.

“Now!” Michael shouted, dropping his arm. The dollmen flung their spears, filling the air with deadly crystal rain.

The front line of VEN evaporated. Those behind pushed forward without slowing, crushing the bodies of the dead beneath their heels as they came.

“Hit them again!” Michael bellowed.

The dollmen picked up more shafts and sent them flying after the first. Hounds and belua went down, but VEN kept coming. Close enough, now, to use their shock rifles, the men at the rear opened fire. The harpoon-like shafts struck with bright flashes and thunderclaps.

Dollmen flew back, trailing wisps of foul-smelling smoke, their pale flesh charred black by the shock rifles. Before the dollmen could return fire, the hounds and belua hit their line. Small bodies flew into the air, and the tiny line bowed dangerously as the cries of the wounded and dying filled the air.

A black hound vaulted at Michael, its gleaming fangs aimed for his throat.

Michael reacted without thinking, ramming his spear into the hound’s open jaws. The dog squealed, twisting in the air and falling short. Jericho leapt on the hound and, raising his spear, finished it with a sharp stab to the eye.

“Hold them, my brothers,” Greendown shouted. He caved in a belua’s knee with a swing of his serrated mace. The belua howled and fell, and he brained the hybrid before it could recover. “Death to the Fallen!”

“Death to the Fallen!” the dollmen answered. Their flagging line tightened, and VEN found their advance thwarted by an immovable wall of silver-eyed fury.

Minutes passed into an hour, and the battle raged on with neither side giving an inch of ground. Shock rods and spears crisscrossed the air. VEN and dollmen died by the score, bled by claw, tooth, or spear, or electrified by rod.

Michael ripped his spear from a black hound’s ribs. The weapon made a wet, sucking sound as it came free. At the sound, sour bile rose in his throat, but he managed not to vomit. This was the sixth hound he’d killed, or was it the seventh? He’d lost count, and he hated it. The blood sickened him to his very core. He hadn’t faced one of the belua or a mercenary yet, but it was only a matter of time. The dollmen were outnumbered ten to one, and their line was failing. He searched the faces of VEN on the bridge, looking for the telltale flash of a white coat among the fatigues and fur.

“Jericho,” he called. “Can you see him?”

Jericho, who’d been playing double duty guarding him and watching for Equinox, shook his head. “The Betrayer has not come, Michael.”

At the front of the line, a belua with a half-dozen spears sticking from his chest picked up a struggling dollman and threw him out over the chasm. A foursome of angry dollmen brought the hybrid down a moment later, and a pack of hounds tore into them in turn.

Michael ground his teeth at the carnage. Where was Equinox?

“Awoken!” Warmsoil and Blacksong, their pale skin covered in blood, came running.

“What is it?” Michael asked.

“Greendown is injured,” Blacksong reported. “His war club was struck by one of the thunder sticks.”

“Is he going to make it?”

“Greendown will survive, but he cannot stonesing as he is,” Warmsoil said. “That leaves only two elders to aid you, Awoken. If we are to bring down the Great Bridge, we must do so now.”

Michael shook his head. “Equinox isn’t here yet. We have to wait.”

Warmsoil ran his fingers nervously over his staff. “Awoken, half of our clans are no more. We will all die together if you command it, but we cannot stand against the Fallen much longer.”

Michael watched the much-thinned dollman force struggle to hold the line, and his shoulders sagged. Equinox or no Equinox, they were out of time.

“Okay, let’s do it.” Tossing his spear aside, Michael knelt and placed his palms flat on the ground. “We’ll take out the middle first. After that, the weight of the bridge should bring the rest of it down. Jericho, watch our backs while we work.”

“I will guard you, Awoken.”

Grounding their staffs, Warmsoil and Blacksong took the shafts tightly in their hands and their faces tightened with concentration. “We are ready, Michael,” Warmsoil said. “Begin, and we will add our strength to yours.”

“Alright,” Michael said, his eyes going silver, “time to show these VEN who they’re messing with.”

The stonesong surged from him, flowing across the ground in fiery waves. Dollmen stumbled as the rippling wave passed under them, and a rolling line of VEN tumbled from their feet as the stonesong travelled up the Great Bridge.

Michael poured the stonesong into the rock, channeling as much of the power as the elderstone could handle. A subtle echo pushed behind the stonesong, and he knew the elders were adding their ability to his own. The Great Bridge shifted, and thin cracks began to appear in the worked stone. A rain of dust and gravel began to fall from the bridge into the chasm.

There was a subtle shift in the battle. While the black hounds attacked as ferociously as ever, the belua and mercenaries began to back away from the dollmen’s line, casting nervous glances at the quivering stone beneath them. Michael focused the stonesong on the tiny fractures, opening them wider, willing the bridge to shift and break.

The bridge gave a shuddering spasm. Near the center of the span, a cottage-sized piece of rock broke away, carrying a score of VEN soldiers into the deep. The Great Bridge rocked like a dinghy in a storm, and VEN screamed in horror as further sections of the span broke away.

With the floor falling away beneath their feet, VEN abandoned the attack and ran for their lives. Hounds turned on one another or on the belua, ripping mindlessly as the world heaved and crashed around them. As they raced for the opposite side of the chasm, belua smashed aside slower mercenaries or simply threw them from the bridge.

Michael released the stonesong and looked away from the bridge. He felt sick, but not from the stonesong.

The Great Bridge died with a croaking roar and hundreds of VEN—hounds, belua, and men, fell screaming into darkness. The sound of crashing rock and the terrified cries of the falling went on for a long time, and then there was only silence.

“Victory!”

Blacksong’s triumphant shout broke the hush. The surviving dollmen echoed his savage cry, shaking spears above their heads or casting them into the chasm in pursuit of their enemies.

A small hand reached up to touch Michael’s arm. “I thought we would die here,” Warmsoil said. “You have done the impossible, Awoken. You have saved the People of the Mountain.”

Michael felt sick. “I’m happy your people are safe, Warmsoil,” he said. “But I just killed…I don’t know how many people, real people, with families. And for what? Equinox is still out there. This isn’t going to stop him.”

Warmsoil sighed. “Michael, I want you to—”

Whatever the elder was saying was forever lost as an arm-length spike of stone erupted from his chest. The elder slumped forward, and Michael caught him in his arms reflexively. “Warmsoil!” he cried, but the kind old dollman was dead.

“You are correct, Michael. Nothing will stop me from claiming what is mine.” A section of the wall melted away near the gate, and Equinox emerged from the hidden pocket behind it.

“The Betrayer!” Blacksong roared. He and the dollmen charged the white-coated scientist.

“How tiresome,” Equinox said blandly. His eyes blazed silver. A forest of rocky spikes erupted from the floor around the dollmen, covering them like birds in a cage. Trapped, the dollmen cast their spears, but the crystal shafts shattered against Equinox’s coat.

Equinox brushed the smallest spear shards off of his coat. “Although I appreciate your willingness to test the hybrids,” he said to the dollmen, “your services are no longer required. Do not be too downhearted, though; you never stood any real chance against me. I am one of the Awoken, after all. And I don’t come alone.”

“That’s right, fellas.” Smiley came out from behind Equinox. The grinning VEN held a chain attached to the neck of another wiry belua with a tattered green coat and shaggy, spotted fur.

“Diggs,” Michael whispered. The chained belua looked up at him, but if he wanted to answer, the muzzle over his mouth prevented it. Michael’s eyes burned silver. “Let him go, you animals.”

A slight figure stepped into view. “It wouldn’t do any good, Mike. Diggs has been off his meds for too long. His mind is gone.”

Michael’s jaw dropped. “Lina?”

Lina’s hair was black again, and only a few silver highlights remained of her metal tresses. Her eyes had returned to normal as well, and her skin no longer looked like bone.

“Yes. It’s me, Mike,” Lina said. “The real me.”

“I see you’ve noticed the changes in your friend,” Equinox said. “A mutually beneficial agreement, I assure you. I’ve restored Melina, and in exchange…” He held out his hands, revealing two glittering waystones. “I have both existing waystones, and will soon possess every last bit of this world’s earthbone. It was a valiant effort, Michael, but you have lost. Observe.”

The waystones flared, and the wall around the gate simply disintegrated. Without the support of the walls around it, the huge barrier tottered and fell with a booming crash, revealing the expanse of the crystal forest and, in the distance, the dollmen’s city.

46

End of the Awoken

As the cavern wall collapsed, Michael’s legs went weak. They had lost. The waystones had augmented Equinox’s power to an unimaginable level. If he tried to fight him now, Equinox would crush him like an ant. “Lina, what have you done?”

Lina lowered her eyes. “What I had to.”

Smiley wiggled the end of Diggs’s leash. “She didn’t want to end up like old furry here, I guess. Tough luck, amigo.”

“Do not blame your friend,” Equinox said. “Her mutation was more obvious than yours, and she wanted to return to her old life. It is true, I would have much preferred to have observed her ongoing mutation to its natural conclusion, but that is not what Melina wanted. I understand her reluctance. Just look at what has occurred to poor Dr. Curtis in the absence of his medication. Fearing a similar fate, she came to me for help. And I did help her, Michael, just as I promised I would.”

Michael eyes blazed with fury. “Like you care what happens to her. You’re the reason the forest upstairs is full of mutated plants and animals. If you keep taking the earthbone up there, we’re all going to end up like Diggs anyway!”

“You fear what you do not understand,” said Equinox, “Look at this place, this paradise beneath the earth. Is it not beautiful? All you behold is the result of earthbone mutation. It can be the same for the world above. I simply want to help in the evolution.”

“That’s a load of bull, and you know it,” Michael said. He was so tired, physically and mentally exhausted. He was in no mood for more of Equinox’s lies. “If you wanted to help, you could have started by giving Diggs his medication. Why leave him like that?”

“Dr. Curtis has set himself against my goals, and so restoring his humanity at this juncture is not in my best interest,” Equinox said. “I will help him in time, just as I did Melina. Try to understand, Michael—the goal of my human experiments wasn’t to create abominations, but to improve the existing genetic makeup by introducing fresh, beneficial, DNA. Yes, mistakes have been made. But I have learned much from the belua and the other hybrids. Once I possess the earthbone, I can direct the course of the world’s mutation away from negative side effects like Dr. Curtis’s unfortunate dependence on medications. I will avoid my earlier mistakes.”

“The mad scientist will save the world, huh?” Michael snorted a laugh. “I’ve seen that comic-book ploy, and I’m not buying it. You’re no hero, doc. Diggs may be the leopard-man, but you’re the real monster.”

Equinox’s lips dipped into a frown. “So says the boy who sent scores of my men plummeting to their deaths. It was not I who shattered the bridge.”

Michael scowled. “Yes, I killed your men. Maybe that makes me a murderer.” His mouth twisted in disgust at the word. “I did it to save my friends, not just because I could. I don’t play God like you, or hurt people for fun like that grinning idiot next to you!”

Smiley growled, his knuckles whitening on Diggs’s chain.

“Very well, Michael,” Equinox said, his expression regretful but resigned. “Though I truly wish it hadn’t come to this.” A pillar of rock burst before Michael and collided with his stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs. He fell back, and a second pillar slammed into his shoulder. Something in his shoulder gave with a resounding snap, and he cried out in pain.

“The stonesong has many interesting qualities,” Equinox said conversationally. “The peculiar hardening of the skin, for example.” A stone claw, molded from the rock floor by Equinox’s power, swiped Michael’s leg, tearing a long gash in his jeans and leaving a dark red line on his thigh. “The stronger the stonesong being channeled, the harder the user’s skin becomes.”

Michael reached out with the stonesong, intending to liquefy the rock beneath Equinox’s feet, and felt the attempt roughly deflected by the scientist’s power. He gathered his strength for another try, but a spiny mace of rock clipped his forehead, tearing bright blood from his scalp and shattering his concentration.

“We don’t have to be enemies, my boy,” Equinox continued. “Your abilities would make you a valuable asset. I’m offering you your life back, Michael—and more, a place in history. What do you think?”

The stony attacks abruptly ended. Cradling his wounded shoulder, Michael blinked blood from his eyes. “I think…” He coughed wetly, spattering the floor with red. “I think I’d rather die than play lapdog to a sadistic lunatic like you.”

Equinox’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’ve had about enough of your insolence, Michael. Do you truly want to die?”

Did he want to die? Michael closed his eyes. He hurt all over. Gripping the elderstone in his fist, he breathed deeply of the cool cavern air. He felt a strange sense of destiny, as if the universe, itself, waited for his answer, balanced on the head of a pin. “I don’t want to die.”

“Then stop this foolishness and join me,” Equinox snapped. “I won’t make the offer again.”

“I know,” Michael said. He looked up at the silver-tainted rock of the cavern ceiling. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The music. I mean, all this earthbone feeding the stonesong, making us stronger. Without this elderstone, it would destroy me. How wonderful it must be to have the waystones, to be able to release so much of the stonesong.”

Equinox smiled, showing real emotion for the first time since they’d met. “It is indescribable, Michael. Godlike. In time, we will discover more waystones, and you will know the power as I do. Come now, and you can be with your friends again.”

“I’ll bet,” Michael said. Spying a pale flash of movement behind Smiley, he tightened his hold on the elderstone. “You know, before the dollmen gave me this pendant, I’d been using the stonesong for weeks without a waystone. It wasn’t easy, and sometimes it hurt. Tell me, doc, how will you handle so much power without a waystone?”

“Death to the Fallen!”

Equinox whirled at the cry, and Jericho’s spear shattered against his face. “Arghh!”

“Jericho!” Michael shouted. “Get the waystones!”

Rushing from the shadows, Jericho charged the white-coated scientist as Equinox tried to scrub the broken crystal from his eyes.

Smiley roared and leapt to intercept the dollman. His suit stretched and split as he assumed his beastly alter ego. His hairy claw smacked Jericho from the air.

The dollman hit the floor headfirst, and he lay still, a deep gash in his pasty skull.

Equinox spat the last bits of crystal from his lips and glared daggers at Michael. “You foolish boy. Were you not listening? The stonesong has made my skin as hard as diamond.” He lifted the blazing waystones in his hands. “Armor-piercing bullets couldn’t hurt me now, let alone a pathetic spear.”

A bright flash exploded at Equinox’s back, and a thunderclap shattered the air. He staggered forward. The waystones flew from his hands, skittering toward the chasm.

“How about electricity, you pompous jerk?” Lina asked, lowering her shock rifle.

Silver fire burst from Equinox’s mouth, and bright bands of light leapt from his body to the ground. Clutching his skull in his hands, he stumbled after the loose waystones. “Kill them, Nabal!” he shrieked. “Kill them all!”

Ripping away the shreds of his shirt, Smiley stalked towards Lina. “Time to die, missy.”

“Give it your best shot, Ugly,” Lina mocked. Having no spare rods with which to reload the rifle, she took it by the barrel and held it like a baseball bat. “Come and get it.”

Smiley charged, an unstoppable engine of death descending on a defiant teenage girl. Moving with surprising speed, Lina dodged the first swipe of Smiley’s claws, swinging her makeshift club savagely into his back as she danced from his path. The heavy rifle butt bounced from the belua’s shoulder with no visible effect. Smiley whirled, this time too fast for her to dodge, and went for her throat.

Michael reached for the stonesong, but then a growling white fury smashed into the belua from behind.

“Forget something, Nabal?” Diggs asked, circling his arm around Smiley’s throat. “After Lina took down my guards, maybe you should have ascertained what happened to the key to my shackles.”

“I’m going…going to…to eat your heart, traitor,” Smiley choked. “Yours and the girl’s.”

“Eat this, furry,” said Lina, swinging her rifle into Smiley’s knee. The belua howled and reached for her, but she danced out of range with unnatural agility. “Mike, stop Equinox or we’re all dead!”

Equinox was near the chasm’s edge. Light bleeding from his body, he reached the fallen waystones.

“No you don’t,” Michael said, sending a sharp pulse of the stonesong into the floor. The ground bucked, and the waystones bounced from Equinox’s outstretched fingers and into the chasm.

“No!” Equinox whirled on Michael, his silver eyes burning like tiny suns. “Do you know what you’ve done? The music…arghh…it’s like a storm in my head!” Thick bolts of silver flew from his hands, pulverizing everything they touched. The cavern heaved, and the chiming sounds of fractured crystal echoed from the dollmen forest. Equinox took a step, and the ground heaved like a waking giant. “Your elderstone, give it to me!”

Michael stumbled back, catching himself against the dollmen’s cage. Blacksong grabbed his arm through the stone bars, steadying him. “What have you done, Awoken?” the elder cried. “The Betrayer’s power will destroy us all!”

“The elderstone!” Equinox bellowed. House-sized boulders began to rain down from the ceiling. “Give it to me!”

Michael ripped the elderstone from his neck. The pendant was the only thing keeping what was happening to Equinox from happening to him. But the scientist was simply too powerful. In a few moments, he would simply take the elderstone by sheer force. And if that happened, there would be no stopping Equinox. Michael had no choice. “Go get it.” He threw the pendant into the chasm.

Equinox’s eyes went wide. “You fool!” he screamed. The earth shattered around him, and a wall of silver fire burst from his hands toward Michael. “I’ll kill you all!”

A volcanic roar erupted in Michael’s brain—a roar of pain. Pain, and power. Raising his hand, he met Equinox’s burning stonesong with his own. The two fires met with an earth-shattering blast, showering the cavern with silver sparks and debris.

Equinox brushed the sparks from his coat. “You think you can stop me?” He laughed, and it was the laugh of madness. “I am evolution at work, and the destiny of the world rests in my hands. Did you really think I would ever accept failure as an option? Never. I will have the earthbone, even if I must rip it from the foundations of the earth!”

The ground split. A twenty-foot-wide crevice formed just beyond the gate and rushed toward the dollmen’s city. Blood burning like acid in his veins, Michael poured himself into the stone, willing the speeding crack to close before it could reach the city. Equinox waved his hand, and a hammer of silver fire and rock knocked Michael from his feet. The earth folded after him as he fell, burying him beneath tons of rock and stone. The world was suddenly black and suffocating, pressing in on him from everywhere, squeezing the life from him like a giant fist.

With a feral scream, Michael shattered his stone prison with a wild surge of the stonesong. Gasping for air, he crawled out of the gravel. “I can’t stop him, Blacksong,” he rasped. “He’s too strong!”

The crevice raced through the forest, exploding crystal trees and scaring up flocks of strange birds. In moments, it would be at the city wall.

“I will have the earthbone,” Equinox cawed madly. “I will have it all!”

“The Betrayer’s mind is lost to the stonesong, Awoken,” Blacksong said. “The earthbone will feed his power until it consumes him. Leave this place while you still can!”

Michael shook his head. “The city, the women and children…”

Blacksong lowered his eyes. “It is too late. You must flee, Awoken. Go, before the earthbone kills you as well.”

“No!” Gritting his teeth, Michael closed his eyes and tried to think through the humming inferno in his mind. There has to be a way!

“I will have it all!” Equinox shrieked, spitting flecks of red and silver from his lips. “The earthbone is mine!”

The earthbone. Of course!

Taking a deep steadying breath, Michael sent silver fire into the convulsing earth. The music called to him. He merged with the hum as never before. Sweeping down through thick veins of rock, he searched with invisible hands for one melody he knew so well. “Come to me,” he urged. “Come to me.”

Deep in the earth, the music answered.

Michael spread his burning arms wide. “Equinox!”

“Are you still here, boy?” Equinox asked. His face was alight with silver fire, and blood dripped from his nose and mouth. “I thought I’d killed you already!”

“You want the earthbone so badly, Equinox,” Michael said. “Take it!” He clapped his hands together, and the stonesong surged out from him. “Take it all!”

The ground split open behind Equinox, and a fountain of liquid earthbone erupted from the floor, covering him in the silver element.

Equinox’s incoherent scream of denial shook the mountains, shattering the bars of the dollmen’s cage and cracking the floor. Michael screamed as well, pain lashing his every fiber as he continued to draw the raw earthbone from the floor. He could feel Equinox’s clumsy attempts to stop him, but the scientist seemed to have lost almost all control of his power. Massive tendrils of silver fire ripped car-sized boulders from the floor and ceiling, the rock liquefying or shattering from one moment to the next.

Deadly rock raining down all around him, Michael used the last of his will to solidify the wet earthbone clinging to Equinox, coating him in a suit of pure silver power.

Equinox’s screams abruptly ended. The tendrils of fire dissipated as his body began to glow with fierce silver light. Blazing veins of liquid silver wept from his eyes, mouth, and nose. The flesh of his face blackened as burning holes appeared in his white lab coat, widening quickly to expose throbbing veins of silver fire, sizzling red flesh, and white bone. The scientist looked down at himself, and then at Michael, accusing the youth with eyes turned to twin beacons of silver light. “I was going to save the world,” said Equinox. He didn’t sound angry, only immeasurably disappointed, and a just little confused. “My destiny is to guide the necessary evolution of mankind. How can it end like this?”

“You’re one of the bad guys,” said Michael, surprised by the sudden well of pity he felt for the VEN scientist. “In the end, the bad guys always lose.”

Then, the light was too powerful to look upon directly. Michael shielded his eyes as, blazing like a supernova, the Betrayer—leader of VEN, and would-be creator of a new world—detonated in a flash of silver fire, showering the cavern with gory, flaming debris.

A silver tendril of light burst from Michael’s chest, connecting him to the earthbone still pouring up from the depths. He fell to the floor, writhing in agony.

“Mike!”

Through tearing eyes, Michael saw Diggs and Lina running toward him. In his heart, he knew they were already too late. But then, he’d known the cost all along. A bolt of fire bored into his chest, and he cried out against the pain.

Michael felt something cool pressed into his palm, and he clenched it tightly in his fist. “Be still, Awoken,” Blacksong murmured in the distance. “Your friends…your family is with you.”

His family? A drifter, a teenage dancer, and a city full of dollmen. His family, because he chose to make them so. Barbara had been right, after all. Suddenly, the pain was gone, and Michael smiled as gentle darkness claimed him.

Epilogue

The marble-white falcryn stood on its hind legs, glaring down at the twin VEN hounds with its eagle beak wide in a silent scream of challenge. The dollman rider was no less fearsome. Silver eyes narrowed in hate, he stabbed at the VEN with a lance of hollowed crystal. A steady stream of water spurted from the tail of the lance, covering the battling creatures in a shimmering umbrella.

Lina leaned up against the fountain, parting the falling water with her palm for a better look at the dollman rider. “You did a good job. It looks just like him,” she said. Stepping back from the fountain, she shook the water from her hand. “But don’t you think this is a little risky?”

Michael shrugged. “I came out here in the middle the night. No one saw me using the stonesong. Besides, Tallpath and the other dollmen died helping to save the world from Equinox and the VEN. I figure the least I could do was make them a statue.” He smiled, and tapped the elderstone at his throat suggestively. “Sure, people will wonder how it got here, and even what it is.”

“And what it is supposed to be,” added Lina. “It’s not like anyone around here has seen a falcryn or dollman before.”

“So they’ll think whoever put it here is a giant fantasy geek, or some kind of eccentric artist. Who cares? Statues are expensive. I doubt they’ll get rid of it. Besides, I owed the park a new fountain.”

“And a mermaid just wasn’t good enough? You’re still a showoff, Mike. Sometimes I wonder if you didn’t arrange the whole thing with Blacksong just to impress me.”

“You mean I planned on him giving me his elderstone right before the earthbone and the stonesong killed me?” Michael raised his hands in surrender. “Busted. Just for the record, though, I didn’t do it to impress you. I know you’re crazy about me already.”

“You’re an idiot.” Lina slugged his arm. “Hey, how are things at the new house? The Wiffles settled in yet?”

“Pretty good.” Michael rubbed his bicep. “Karl complains a lot about his old tools, but I think that’s just for show. Barbara is cooking up a storm in the new kitchen, and she loves all the space. The only real problem we’re having is with the nosy neighbors.”

Lina laughed. “I told you. New money is always suspect in my neighborhood. Maybe you shouldn’t have given the Wiffles that bag of diamonds.”

“Maybe not, but the diamonds did wonders smoothing things over when I got back.” Michael hefted his backpack onto his shoulder, starting toward the parking lot. Lina followed. “Besides, they’re just rocks. I can always get more. How about you? How did you explain your little disappearing act to your parents?”

“I didn’t,” Lina said smugly. “Mom and Dad are still on vacation and my nanny is old as dirt. As far as anyone knows, I was at camp all this time.”

“You’re a sneak,” Michael accused. “That story might not hold up when they see that silver in your hair.”

“We’ll see,” Lina said. She glanced back at the falcryn fountain, and her lips tightened just a bit. “Do you think it’s over, Mike? I mean, the elders promised to recover all the earthbone they could find and then seal the tunnels. So it’s done, right?”

“Well, you and Diggs did let Smiley escape into the crystal forest…”

“Give it a rest already,” Lina said. “We were a little distracted when Equinox tried to bring the cave down on our heads. So sue us.” Her expression turned serious. “Come on, Mike. We won, right?”

“I don’t know,” answered Michael quietly. “The VEN camp was gone when we came out of the tunnels, so maybe they gave up after Equinox died. I hope so.”

Michael spotted Diggs standing next to his new pickup in the parking lot. The drifter waved, and he waved back. “Come on, Lina. We’ve kept Diggs waiting long…” He trailed off as a black crow swooped over Diggs’s truck. Circling twice overhead, it cawed shrilly before flapping away.

Lina touched Michael’s arm. “That wasn’t a—?”

“No,” he said. “It couldn’t have been. It was just a crow.”

But then his backpack rustled, and a pair of silver eyes peeked out from beneath the flap. “Beware, my Michael. Beware.”

THE END

Acknowledgments

Thanks to Trish Wooldridge, Vikki Ciaffone, Rich Storrs, and Shira Lipkin for all their encouragement, assistance, and excellent editing. Thanks to Lisa Amowitz, for the wonderful cover art. Thanks to my family, for all your patience and support.

About the Author

Timothy W. C. Miller was born in Wisconsin in 1974. He moved to the Green Bay area when he was eight and proceeded to shock his schoolteachers with his intellect, his lust for reading, and his seemingly insurmountable lack of interest in personal academic achievement.

He left home at fifteen, worked at a dairy farm, a meatpacking plant, a pickle factory, a casino, and a rowdy nightclub as a bouncer. At nineteen, he settled down as a repair technician for a telephone company. While repairing lines in New Orleans in the aftermath of Katrina, he began including short stories in the letters he sent home to his eldest daughter. When he returned from Louisiana, he brought back a stuffed alligator and an irresistible urge to keep putting words to paper. He bought a laptop, learned to type, and soon found the course of his universe forever changed as worlds and titans rose and fell beneath his keystrokes.

Table of Contents

- Title
- Copyright
- Dedication
- 1 Night Approaches
- 2 The Window (The Previous Night)
- 3 Sunset (The Present)
- 4 The Wait
- 5 Earth and Bone
- 6 Sounds of the Mermaid
- 7 Melina’s Treasure
- 8 Cats and Crows
- 9 Diggs
- 10 Fishing
- 11 One Boy
- 12 The Walk
- 13 Smiley
- 14 Earthquake?
- 15 Visitors
- 16 Out of Time
- 17 The Ven’s Grin
- 18 Escape
- 19 The Hounds
- 20 Cain and Abel
- 21 Story Time
- 22 Girls and Pancakes
- 23 As the Crow Flies
- 24 Playing Dressmaker
- 25 Dance of Light
- 26 Belua Fire Drill
- 27 Trusting the Enemy
- 28 Gifts of the VEN
- 29 Hang On
- 30 One More Day
- 31 The Forest of Earthbone
- 32 The Cave
- 33 Stones and Hounds
- 34 Equinox
- 35 Silver Tunnels
- 36 Rescued
- 37 The World
- 38 The City, At Last
- 39 The Price of a Name
- 40 Friends No More
- 41 Planning the Battle
- 42 Betrayal
- 43 Falcryn Riders
- 44 The Bridge
- 45 Stonesong
- 46 End of the Awoke
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author