Secrets Of New Forest Academy Part 3

Their only hope was to get outside. Spencer knew the angry Toxites wouldn't leave the school. But getting to the exit was another matter altogether. They would have to blaze a path through the oncoming creatures.

Spencer met the first wave of Toxites with a fistful of vac dust. Daisy swung her pushbroom and several creatures exploded. Adrenaline battled the sluggish effects of the Toxite breath as both kids struggled to maintain focus.

The Toxites were enraged from their time in the Agitation Bucket. One slip could be fatal. The creatures would pick apart the kids like ants on a cookie.

"Look out!" A Rubbish was swooping in on Daisy's blind side, hooked beak parted, sharp talons flexed.

Spencer lunged sideways, hurling his final puff of vacuum dust. The creature lost control as the suction force buckled its wings. It collided with a bookshelf and toppled to the floor.

Something heavy and much larger than a Toxite struck Spencer from behind and knocked him to the floor. His broom tapped down and shot out of his hand. Someone grabbed his wrists and flipped him onto his side.

"I always knew you were a freak!" Dez said, pinning Spencer under his bulky weight. Clearly, the big kid couldn't see the dangerous swarm of oncoming Toxites. "I want some answers from you. Like, how did you tie me up with a mop? And who was that jerk guy that dragged me in here?"

Spencer tried to twist away. Toxites were swarming over Dez's body, clawing and biting. But the bully felt and saw nothing. Unsatisfied with Dez's untouchable flesh, the Toxites turned to fresh meat: someone who could see them and feel the sting of their attacks. It took less than a second for the creatures to find Spencer, pinned and defenseless.

Each Toxite brought a new pain to Spencer's trapped body. A sharp cut on his leg from a Rubbish talon, a blistering welt on his hand from a poisonous Grime. A Filth scuttled past Spencer's head and climbed onto his shoulder, sharp quills raking scratches across his neck.

Dez was still shouting, but the breath of the Filth, so close to Spencer's face, overcame him. Despite the pain and fear, Spencer started slipping into forced sleep.

He vaguely saw Dez pull back a fist. The punch was meant for Spencer's face-and by the size of Dez's fist, it would probably break his nose. But the punch never came down. It went up-high up-as Daisy slammed her pushbroom into the back of Dez's head.

The bully soared over a low bookshelf and landed with a crash, out of sight. Spencer was the next to get hit, with a much gentler tap from Daisy's pushbroom. He jerked off the ground, Toxites falling away as he rose toward the ceiling. A few Rubbishes kept pace, their leathery wings flapping. Spencer, weaponless in the air, batted them away with bloodied knuckles.

"Spencer!" Daisy slammed a broom against a bookshelf and sent it jetting across the library. As it shot past, Spencer s.n.a.t.c.hed the handle, and the momentum pulled him away from an incoming flock of Rubbishes. He crashed into the Fiction bookshelf. Novels fell around him as Spencer stumbled to his feet.

Daisy screamed as a nearby Filth charged her, ramming its spiky head into her leg. She crumpled onto one knee, barely managing to immobilize the Filth with a bit of vac dust.

It was hopeless. This was the worst thing they'd been through on their own. The Toxites were thick and impenetrable. They would never make it to the door in one piece. Spencer turned his eyes to the emergency exit, wis.h.i.+ng he could find a way to reach it safely.

Then, unbelievably, as Spencer's eyes were trained on the exit, the door flew open. A thin figure entered first: a young woman wearing a high school letter jacket and hood. She had a short-handled mop in each hand and wielded them like deadly ball-and-chain flails.

A second person shot through the open door, dangling one-handed from a speeding broom. In his free hand he clutched something small and black. He wore a baseball cap, but as the broom bore him into a flock of angry Rubbishes, the hat was stripped away. In the dim light, Spencer saw a s.h.i.+ny bald head.

"Walter!" Was it really him? The warlock janitor had appeared in the nick of time.

"There's too many!" Walter shouted to his hooded companion. "Switch to Plan B!"

The hooded lady somersaulted across the library like an acrobatic ninja and slammed her mops into a pack of Filths. She reached Daisy, and the two of them rushed for the exit. Walter c.o.c.ked back his arm and hurled the black object in his hand. It struck the wall and exploded into a cloud of white dust. The billowing explosion grew like a mushroom cloud, engulfing half the library.

Spencer reached for his broom, only to jerk away. The wooden handle was crawling with Grimes. The monsters leapt toward him, and Spencer fell sideways onto one of the study tables. Walter was at his side in no time, swatting away the angry Toxites with his broom.

"Come on!" The old warlock grabbed Spencer by the sleeve and pulled him off the table.

They were almost to the exit when Walter reached into his coat and withdrew another black object. Spencer saw it clearly this time.

It was a chalkboard eraser.

"Go!" Walter said, shoving Spencer out the door. Then he hurled the eraser across the library and it exploded in a white dust ball.

Walter stepped out of the library, pulling the door shut behind him to contain the explosion. Spencer glanced at Daisy, standing in the parking lot. But her expression was not victorious. It was horrified. Then Spencer remembered why.

"Dez!" he whispered. He had to act fast. The chalk bombs were filling the whole library!

"Wait!" Walter cried, but Spencer leapt past him, bursting through the door before the lock clicked shut. He heard the warlock shout something-a warning. But there was no time to discuss it.

The library was a dim mess of cloudy dust. Spencer coughed into his shoulder and drew in the deepest breath he could manage. He ran forward blindly, stumbling painfully into chairs and tables. Through the ethereal whiteness, an occasional Toxite would suddenly appear, only to vanish again like a ghostly figure in a sea of fog. They seemed to move in painful slow motion.

Then, as if that painful motion were contagious, Spencer's feet suddenly gave out under him. He caught himself on a low bookshelf and paused, trying to think about how to walk. It seemed like the message was taking forever to get from his brain to his feet.

A few steps later, he fell again. But this time, his legs wouldn't respond to his efforts to stand up. Dragging himself forward with his hands, Spencer came at last to the spot where Dez had crash-landed. The bully was covered in chalk dust, his face frighteningly white. But Dez was still breathing. Spencer could see the soft rise and fall of his chest.

Spencer coughed out his stale old breath and took another. The dust was thick, and he felt his fingertips start to tingle. Spencer grabbed Dez by the s.h.i.+rt, but there was no way he could lift the bully. Especially since Spencer's legs had stopped working.

He needed a broom to fly them out. Spencer cast his fingers around in the bleakness. His hand gripped something long and wooden. A handle. He dragged it closer ...

A mop!

What good was a mop in a desperate situation like this? Spencer instinctively flicked the strings around Dez's ankles. A broom would have been so much better, but there was no time to be picky. Air was running short.

Turning away from Dez, Spencer began the painstaking task of dragging himself across the library floor. He gripped the mop handle, flicking out more length on the strings behind him as he crawled. At last, with his lungs almost bursting, Spencer pulled himself out the door and into the November night.

Walter was waiting. He grabbed Spencer and lifted him away from the billowing chalk cloud. "What's this?" The warlock janitor looked down at the long wooden handle in Spencer's grip.

"Hang on ..." Spencer managed between fits of coughs. Walter grabbed the handle as Daisy and the hooded lady approached. The mop's head stretched back into the library, the strings disappearing in the white fog.

Then the mop strings began to reel in, followed by a tremendous cras.h.i.+ng sound from inside the library. It was like something heavy was being dragged across the library floor. Not something-someone.

Spencer waited, hopeful. He had regained the use of his legs, but he still leaned heavily on Walter. At last, a figure tumbled through the threshold and the library door clicked shut.

"It worked," Spencer managed to say, still gasping for breath. At their feet lay the still, white form of Dez Rylie, the last of the mop strings unwinding from his ankles.

Chapter 8.

"I don't mind him like this."

What's the matter with him?" Spencer asked, leaning on Daisy for support. Walter carried Dez's limp form across the parking lot to where the janitor's van idled, the hooded lady in the driver's seat.

"He'll be fine," Walter said. "Those chalkboard eraser bombs are something the BEM invented. I picked up the Glop formula and made a few of my own. They cause temporary paralysis in Toxites ... and people."

"Is that what was happening to my legs?" Spencer said.

"Exactly." Walter loaded Dez into the back of the van. "If you had stayed in there any longer, you'd be just like him. What were you thinking, rus.h.i.+ng in like that?"

Spencer looked down. Why was Walter reprimanding him? He'd saved Dez from the chalk bomb, hadn't he?

"You had no idea what you were up against," Walter said. "That chalk cloud could have been fatal, for all you knew."

Spencer hadn't considered the consequences. He'd simply seen a problem and rushed in to fix it. He was used to acting on his own. But now that Walter was back, shouldn't Spencer have turned to him for help?

"So Dez is okay?" Daisy asked. "He'll get better?"

"Of course," Walter said. "He should be back to normal in an hour or so."

Daisy peered at Dez's dusty form. "Actually, I don't mind him like this," she said. "He's not so bad when he can't move. Can't we make it last a little longer?"

"It would have lasted a lot longer if Spencer hadn't rescued him," Walter said. "I had no idea there was another person in the library. I threw two erasers in there. That could have paralyzed this kid for more than a day." The bald warlock looked at Dez's still form. "The erasers were our last resort, but there were just too many Toxites to fight."

"I thought we were doomed for sure," Daisy said. "You showed up just in time."

"Thanks to Meredith," Walter answered. "This morning, she phoned me about a suspicious BEM electrician. When the same electrician came to the orchestra concert, Meredith called me again. By that time, I was already in Welcher, grabbing a bite to eat. I came immediately to the library when Meredith said you might be in danger."

"You were already in Welcher?" Spencer repeated. His first thought was about his father. What if Walter had come to tell him more information about his dad?

"I've come to warn you." Walter lowered his voice. "The BEM is sending a dozen men to Welcher. They'll be here by Monday."

"What?" Daisy said. "Why?"

The warlock janitor took a deep breath. "They're coming for you, Spencer."

The boy took an unsteady step backward. "Me?" he muttered. He wanted Walter to keep talking, but the hooded young lady in the driver's seat interrupted them.

"We've got to roll," she said, "before anyone finds out we were here."

Walter gestured for Spencer and Daisy to climb into the back of the van next to Dez. "But wait," Spencer said. "What's happening? What do you mean, the BEM is coming for me?"

Walter silenced him, glancing nervously around the dark parking lot. "Whoever dumped that Agitation Bucket could still be around, listening. It will be best if we discuss things in the privacy of your home." The warlock motioned to the van again. The kids climbed in, careful not to step on Dez's p.r.o.ne form.

It was exciting to see the old warlock again. But Spencer and Daisy both knew this wasn't a social call. The BEM was up to something. That was clear from the Agitation Bucket in the school library. Spencer couldn't help but feel that Walter's arrival meant the beginning of new dangers.

Daisy extended a finger and slowly poked Dez's ample stomach. "Do you think he can feel that?" she asked.

But Spencer was caught up in his own thoughts. He tried again to coax more information out of Walter, but the warlock was busy giving the driver directions. Then, pulling out a cell phone, Walter got in touch with Meredith and asked her to gather the Glopified equipment from the library once the chalk cloud settled.

The janitorial van pulled into the lavish driveway of Aunt Avril's Hillside Estates home. The Zumbros were house-sitting for a year, which meant that Aunt Avril and Uncle Wyatt would probably need to remodel when they returned. The rambunctious Zumbro children had already done irreversible damage to the hardwood floor and the walls. Not to mention the toenail polish spilled on the carpet and the burn marks on the banister.

Walter opened the back door of the van, allowing Spencer and Daisy to climb out.

"Let's get him inside," Walter said, taking Dez under the arms. Spencer grabbed the bully's ankles, careful not to touch his grungy sneakers. Moving around the van, they waddled up the driveway.

Alice met them at the door, her face a mixture of shock at seeing Walter and worry at seeing Dez. The warlock greeted Mrs. Zumbro professionally, his voice aimed to calm her nerves.

"So ..." Alice raised her eyebrows at Spencer. "Looks like the orchestra concert was interesting." Then she retreated into the house, herding Spencer's siblings downstairs to watch TV.

Spencer and Walter laid Dez on the leather couch, a puff of chalk powder rising from his motionless form. Alice entered from the kitchen, and, a few moments later, Walter's a.s.sistant appeared with a box of equipment.

"About time for an introduction, I think." Walter gestured to the young woman in the letter jacket. "This is my niece, Penny."

Penny smiled and pulled back her hood. She had a smattering of ruddy freckles across her thin face. Her eyes were a startling green and seemed to show a glint of adventure. Short, fiery red hair framed her face nicely. Spencer took an involuntary step back.

It was her! The young woman he had seen asleep in the pa.s.senger seat of a vehicle. Spencer recalled the vision with startling clarity. He had been driving, with the hands of an old man. Spencer looked back at Walter, glancing at the warlock's hands. Was it possible? Had he been looking through Walter Jamison's eyes?

"Spencer?" Walter said. "Is something wrong?"

Spencer looked back at Penny. "It's just ... I thought ..." He swallowed hard. "Have we met before?"

Penny shook her head. "I would remember meeting the famous Spencer Zumbro. Walter has told me everything about you." Penny's smile faded under Spencer's shocked gaze. Finally, she turned away and sat down on the sofa.

"Penny has worked as a part-time janitor since she was a senior in high school," Walter said. "That was, what, two years ago?"

Daisy was looking at Penny's letter jacket. "Did you play football or something?"

Penny smiled. "Gymnastics," she said. "I did a bit of that in high school."

"Don't be humble," Walter said. "My niece was the state champion in tumbling, vault, and balance beam."

"Wow," Daisy said. "You should try out for the Olympics! Can you do a backflip?"

"She's been backflipping since she was eight," Walter answered.

Penny shrugged. "Gymnastics is fun ... but karate is more my thing."

"Cool!" Daisy didn't bother to hide her admiration. "Can you break boards with your forehead?"

Penny pretended to scoff. "I break boards with my pinkie." She lifted her little finger. Daisy totally fell for it.

"Anyway," Walter cut in, "Penny's an expert Toxite fighter. She's been a big help to me over the past month with all my travels. We've been a lot of places, seen a lot of things ..."

"What have you learned about Alan?" It was Alice who asked the question. Spencer had wanted to, but he was worried that the answer might be ...

"Nothing yet, I'm afraid," Walter said. "We haven't had much time to investigate. I've been too busy Glopifying new tools and supplying gear to the Rebel Janitors. The BEM is on the move. They're hitting all the Rebel schools. But I got word that they're on their way to Welcher for another reason." Walter looked at Spencer. "They think you have something. They're coming to get it from you."

"What?" Spencer asked. "What could I have that the BEM might want? Do they think I still have Ninfa?"

Walter shook his head. He reached into his cargo pocket and withdrew a bronze hammer. It was the hammer that had made Walter Jamison a warlock. There were three magic hammers, created by the Founding Witches and handed down since colonial times. Walter had a bronze nail, too, pounded into his van. His vehicle was the only place where he could experiment with raw magic, creating new formulas to Glopify more janitorial supplies.

Last September, Spencer had used the hammer to pound the nail into the School Board. He had become a warlock for a short time before giving the hammer back to Walter. Did the BEM think he had kept it?

"It's not Ninfa." Walter slipped the hammer back into his pocket.

"What, then?" Spencer asked. "What do I have?"