The 13th Sign Part 11

That was why the Keepers protected Ophiuchus so adamantly. That was why the sign was no longer a part of the zodiac, why it was hidden away in the history books. Why the Other Twelve descended to earth and committed to battle anyone who unlocked it, anyone who threatened the order of the universe. What human would need to rely on a horoscope sign, or really any higher power, if the ability to control death was in our hands? Ophiuchus could alter humanity, forever. It was the most powerful sign of them all.

What humans would do if they had power over death! For a flash, it sounded marvelous: a world where death could be cured. I instantly thought of my Nina. I suddenly wanted nothing else but that stone in my hand.

But...even if death could be reversed, ours wouldn't be a world without pain. If anyone knew that pain could exist without the immediate threat of death, it was me. In fact, a single stone that could cure the dead would probably cause more suffering than it could heal. Who wouldn't fight for that kind of power? The greed it would cause! The wars and destruction!

And surely not everyone would have eternal life. No, that kind of stone in our kind of world? The power over death would be reserved for the richest, the strongest. Or the evilest, the kind of person who would stop at nothing for the chance to pick and choose who lives and who dies.

No. The agents were right. Humans could not be trusted with that kind of power.

"But we don't know where Ophiuchus is," Brennan whispered at last.

I opened my eyes. Agent Cygnus was still glaring at me. "But you think you do, don't you? Otherwise you wouldn't be on this quest. Find her. Find her stone. The stone has all the power. Find Ophiuchus's stone and bring it to us. I don't care how long it takes. We must ensure that this never happens again. We have to destroy that stone. If that stone falls into the wrong hands..."

As Agent Cygnus talked, Agent Griffin pulled something out of a paper bag. A pot-one of my pots. He plunked it onto the table, not caring if he might shatter it.

Just the sight of the pot made me feel ill. It was hollow and empty that pot. I wasn't that person anymore, the person who so desperately needed to make them.

Agent Cygnus's mouth pulled into a straight line. He bent toward me and his jacket fell open, showing, yes, a holster. His breath was icy, like peppermint. "This isn't the first time this has happened." His fingers twitched. I flinched. "But you already knew that, didn't you, Jalen?"

My heart tightened. I felt myself nodding, agreeing. Aries had said, "You fight like your father." I had known then.

My dad disappeared when I was nine. I was on the edge of my own death, and my father disappeared, and my mother hardened bone-dry like this pot.

Had he unlocked Ophiuchus to try to heal me?

And if he hadn't survived these Challenges, how could I?

"You must do this, Jalen," Agent Cygnus was saying. "And we're here to help you. You'll help us, won't you, Jalen?"

There were so many reasons not to trust these agents, including this pot of mine. This pot, which in their hands, said, We can get to you and, worse, we can get to your family.

But I was so tired. I'd quit once already, and I still had more than half my Challenges left. I'd created a path of destruction through the streets of New Orleans, and I would need someone on my side when it became clear that the damage was mine. They knew more about this than I did, no thanks to Gemini, who, apparently, hadn't told me the whole truth. And these agents could get me to Nina-quickly.

But perhaps most of all, after all the guessing and second-guessing, I needed so badly to trust someone.

I reached out with a single finger to touch the lip of the bowl. I felt myself nod numbly. "I'll help you," I whispered.

The car's engine purred, Agent Griffin at the wheel. "Where we going?" he grumbled, his eyes glaring at me in the rearview mirror.

Ellie's hand tightened around mine. A warning not to tell them. She was right. I wanted to trust these agents. I thought I could. But there was no reason to tell them everything.

"Head toward the Garden District."

Agent Griffin's eyes narrowed further, a feat I would've thought impossible. "Where in the Garden District?"

"Just go," I said. "I'll tell you where to go when we get there."

Agent Griffin grunted and slammed the car into drive. We pulled out of the parking lot, and an arrow drove straight at my backseat window, a deadly dot that grew into a lethal line as it sliced toward me. It bounced off my window with a ting, and I flinched. Agent Cygnus shot me a look of concern.

In a few short moments, we were back at the terminal for the Algiers Ferry. Flas.h.i.+ng blue lights dotted and spun against the West Bank. I sank into the backseat and prayed all the people on the ferry were okay.

"What a mess," Agent Cygnus said. "Take the bridge. It's faster, anyway."

Agent Griffin sped away, and moments later we stopped at the mouth of the Crescent City Connection Bridge. We'd gotten here so fast! I'd never thought about how fast and easy cars are.

As we approached, we saw more flas.h.i.+ng lights. Orange ones, this time. White-and-orange striped construction barrels blocked the entrance to the bridge. Agent Griffin growled and smacked the steering wheel. Agent Cygnus sighed. "Roll down your window, Steve."

"Hey!" Agent Cygnus yelled over Agent Griffin to a group of construction workers. "What gives?"

Two construction workers wearing orange reflective vests and hard hats crossed to the car. I cringed. If they were Keepers, would they still attack while we were with these agents? I thought they would.

One guy-a huge man with a bulbous red nose and overalls-hitched his radio back onto his tool belt. "Bridge is closed. Take the ferry."

"Ferry's closed, too," Agent Griffin snapped. "We supposed to swim across?"

The huge construction worker shrugged. "Stinks for you." His radio crackled, and he turned and walked back to his group. Agent Griffin pressed the b.u.t.ton to slide his window back up.

The other construction worker-this one with mirrored sport sungla.s.ses and dreadlocks to his waist-leaned toward the car. His hair swung down like thick rope. "Jest go round de barrels."

Agent Griffin never turned to look at him but stuck a finger in his ear and jimmied his knuckle. He jerked the gears.h.i.+ft down and swung the wheel.

"Hang on. I'ma go around the barrels."

We were, at last, crossing the Mississippi River. It lay below us, snaking through the city. Brennan clutched the door handle, his knuckles white. I didn't care for how high up this bridge was, either.

It was eerie, riding in the only car on this bridge. We were high enough up and far enough out to feel like the only humans on earth. I took deep breaths.

"What the-!" Agent Griffin shouted. He stomped on the brakes, and we skidded in a half circle before the back of the car dropped with a thunk. Ellie, Brennan, and I were thrown against the ceiling of the Lincoln.

A hole in the bridge. The car teetered, the front half of it still on the bridge, the back half dangling far above the Mississippi River. The front tires were still spinning, and a smoking, groaning whirr of rubber stench lifted from the two front wheels.

We were frozen, all five of us, too terrified to even speak, for fear we would upset our balance. I snaked my eyes sideways to Brennan. His face was pulled tight like a knot. The lump in his throat bobbed. I snaked my eyes farther, toward the back window. The swirling river lay far below. My head spun with the height.

"Libra," Ellie whispered.

I didn't nod. I couldn't. But I knew she was right. This was the work of Libra, the balancing scales. If we didn't play this just right, Libra would ensure the scales tipped in the zodiac's favor.

The construction worker, the one with the dreadlocks who had advised us to go around the barrels, sauntered up.

"Bit of a jam you in, eh!" he yelled. He hitched thumbs in the armholes of his orange vest and bobbed on his toes. My anger matched the glare of his ugly vest. The agents didn't see him. This must be Libra himself.

Agent Cygnus had sneaked a hand forward. He pushed the b.u.t.ton that slid his window down but stopped.

"These windows, they're too small," he whispered. "We can't go through them. This car would drop for sure."

Brennan made a sound like a small whimper.

The construction worker, Libra, approached the open window. He bent in half, dreadlocks swinging over the chasm in the middle of the bridge. He tsk-tsked our situation. "Watch dat first step. It's a doozy!" He threw his head back and cackled, the sun flas.h.i.+ng off his sungla.s.ses.

Agent Griffin and Agent Cygnus heard none of Libra's teasing, of course. Agent Griffin inched his hand off the steering wheel to his hip. He arched his back to reach for his gun. What was he thinking, drawing his gun now? The tires screamed and the car dropped an inch. Or twenty. The oxygen in the car was sucked away as we all s.n.a.t.c.hed a breath.

Agent Griffin raised his gun and pointed it at the winds.h.i.+eld. "I'll shoot it out," he grumbled. "Then we go out the front." He touched gun barrel to gla.s.s.

Brennan squeaked. "Kick back," he breathed. "Not on the gla.s.s. Away from it."

Griffin paused, then nodded and pulled the gun away from the gla.s.s a few inches.

"It'll still give some kick," Brennan said, his voice slowly steadying. "Agent Cygnus, you'll have to throw your body forward, through the window, to offset the recoil. Do it as the gun is fired to keep our balance."

Cygnus nodded slightly. "Yes, right, smart," he said. It appeared he was trying to keep his tone light. "Son, you want a job with the government?"

"No."

"Fair enough. On three, Griffin."

Griffin nodded. "One, two, three!"

BLAM!.

The gun exploded, a blast of fire in a tiny s.p.a.ce. My ears began ringing immediately from the shot. Cygnus crashed through the gla.s.s after the bullet. He landed on the hood of the car, sprawled head first, his feet still with us in the car, draped over the dashboard.

The car teetered and tottered, moaned and groaned, but it eventually came to rest, leaving us in the backseat bobbing a few inches lower than before. Libra stood next to Cygnus and clapped his hands slowly, loudly, clap, clap, clap.

"Nice work, Jalen and friends," he said, pacing next to our balancing act. "Nice, nice. Dese scales, dey hard to balance, no?" He raised and lowered the palms of his hands, like scales correcting themselves. As he did, the car swayed and creaked. "Jest like life. Right or wrong. Left or right. Black or white. Alive or dead."

Lost or left? It was the question that had been with me since this morning. One or the other. In Libra's world, everything was absolute. Slightly off balance was the same as cras.h.i.+ng to the ground to a Libra.

I understood our Challenge, then: Get out of this car alive, and I win. Or don't.

Absolute.

Agent Cygnus had to be uncomfortable, sprawled across broken safety gla.s.s and gripping the hood. He could save himself now, roll to one side and the car would plummet. I held back a shudder so I wouldn't move the car even more.

"Ellie," he said over his shoulder. "You first. Climb over me."

Ellie was in the middle of the backseat, so it made sense for her to go first. She inched toward the edge of the seat, then slowly, painstakingly, lifted. The car dropped centimeters. It felt like miles.

But Ellie, this Ellie, was amazingly graceful. She patiently crouched, waiting for the car to correct itself before inching forward again. I thought of the hours-ago Ellie from before the change, the one with the subtlety of a bulldozer. Tears welled.

I closed my eyes and swallowed. Alive or dead.

I didn't care for Libra's view of the world. I was a potter after all. My sense of balance wasn't add to this, add to that/take from this, take from that. Balance, to me, was a spinning, growing thing, something that I plunged my thumbs into and pinched and pulled and created and crafted. Something I controlled.

Ellie had oozed forward at a snail's pace and was now halfway out of the car. Brennan's breath was shallow puffs. I hoped he wouldn't hyperventilate. I hoped I wouldn't join him.

The moment Ellie's sneakers. .h.i.t solid ground, she dug The Keypers of the Zodiack out of her messenger bag. She leaned into the open window and read.

"'Libra, the scales. August 10September 15. Like the balancing scales that represent thee, Libra, thou art objective, a master of harmony and balance. Thou rarely choosest sides, preferring to shun all judgment, even to the point of crippling thyself in the face of a decision. Thou art a peaceful pleasure seeker who loves beauty and warmth, who loathes loneliness. Thou art an excellent listener, but thou hast a weakness for juicy gossip, and thou art both impressionable and manipulative when it comes to spreading untruths. Know that thy sense of justice-an eye for an eye, no doubt-leaves two blind."

"Yes, yes," the pacing Libra said, "dat's me."

Agent Cygnus turned his head to Ellie. "What is that? That book?"

Ellie looked at me, but I was too afraid to shake my head. Don't tell him, my instincts screamed. Don't!

But she held up the cover of the book. "The Keypers of the Zodiack. The one we used to-"

"Ellie!" I screamed. The car bobbled deeply, the front tires squealed. Brennan gulped air. She looked at me, nodded, and tucked the book away.

"Well, look at dat!" Libra said, throwing his hands wide. He leaned toward the car again. "Such pa.s.sion from you, Jalen! Don't you know? Too much pa.s.sion-it throws you off balance." He chuckled.

"Where did you get that book?" Cygnus demanded of Ellie. He started to squirm. The car s.h.i.+fted, the left side skidding a little lower than the right.

"Cygnus," Griffin hissed. "Later, okay?"

Cygnus cleared his throat. "Yes. Right. Jalen, you're next."

"No," I said. "Brennan's next." Brennan looked at me with wild eyes.

"If you don't go next," I whispered, "I don't think you'll ever get out." My head swirled with dizziness, yes, but Brennan's fear of the water far below was worse.

Brennan considered that: him, in the backseat, alone. He likely wouldn't have the guts to try to escape if he was back there by himself. He nodded. This Brennan knew his weaknesses.

He gulped several deep breaths and inched toward the middle of the backseat. Ellie, outside, paced and bit her fingernails. "You can do it, Brennan. I know you can."

"I love you, Ellie," Brennan said. "But please. Shut up."

Libra laughed and hopped up and down. Envy flamed inside me at how easily Libra jumped and gestured and moved, while I was afraid to breathe. Fluid or frozen. This or that. Absolute.

Brennan crept into the front seat, slowly, slowly through the winds.h.i.+eld, then finally, finally onto the bridge. Once the weight of his body left the car, the Lincoln swayed violently. Agent Griffin cursed under his breath.

The moment Brennan's feet were both solidly planted on concrete, he curled into a ball and jammed his eye sockets into his knees. Ellie dropped her messenger bag, wrapped her arms around him, and glared up at Libra. "Get them out of there," she said.

Libra crossed his muscular arms over his chest. "Dey doin' fine, girl. Jest fine."

"Who are you talking to?" Cygnus barked. Ellie chewed her lip.

"You're next, Jalen," Griffin growled from the driver's seat. "Make it quick, huh?"

Sure, right. Quick.

I lifted off the seat, slowly, telling myself do not look down. Virgo's heavy sapphire birthstone flopped forward in my baggy cargo pocket when I stood. I instinctively grabbed for it. My sudden movement made the car bob. I closed my eyes and took a slow, deep breath before continuing. My head felt fuzzy.

"Jalen!" a voice wailed. I opened my eyes.

My...mom? Standing beside Libra?

"Mrs. Jones?" Ellie whispered.