Chapter Forty-Four

We don’t have any time to waste. It will be ten minutes—twenty, if we’re lucky—before Xander notices that I’m not in the cell. He’ll call his army then—and power or no power, I don’t like our chances against an island of armed croc-people and robotic monkeys.

Our destination, however, lies the way that I came. So, instead of entering the compound’s back entrance, like Xander, Bodin and I dash back across the lava, using the lotus flowers as stepping pads. We weren’t sure if Bodin would be able to cross the same way. Thank goodness my sturdy flowers held under his weight. I take the extra minute to locate my sneakers on the other side of the lava and put them back on, even if the sole of one of them is falling apart. And then, into the woods we go.

We scamper down the mountainside as quickly as possible as we head toward the clearing with the golden pond.

The moon’s found its peak, and now that it’s no longer competing with the luminescent lava, the crystal’s internal glow emanates brightly from Bodin’s duffel bag. Between the natural and magical light sources, as well as my newfound skills at night navigation, we move through the wooded slopes swiftly and easily.

The trees are still, even alert, as though they, too, are holding their breath in anticipation of our next move. Tonight, the branches are bendy, and the bramble makes itself scarce. It’s like the entire forest is allowing us safe passage through its dense mass.

And knowing the extent of my power? It probably is.

And then, my foot lodges in a crevice in the rocks, and my ankle twists…but Bodin catches me before I fall. Interesting that my power didn’t intervene. Or maybe it did—and simply acted through the conduit that is Bodin.

“Xander failed to mention one other method to reverse death,” he says, tightening his hold on my hand as we traverse loose, crumbly ground. “It’s one you already know about: the golden finger. What you don’t know is that the Lotus Flower Champion can also access the golden finger. And it has a twofold power. Not only can it reverse death, but it will destroy any object at which it is deliberately aimed.”

“Like a gun?” I ask.

“Exactly. Except it’s many times more destructive, and the only trigger is your mind.”

“How do you know?” It’s amazing that I’m able to talk while sprinting, without so much as a pant. My new power, while scary, does have major pluses.

“After the first time my father plucked the blossom of my hand, I broke into his lab.” Bodin takes a gigantic leap over a fallen log. I sail right after him. It’s a testament to his athletic prowess that he’s able to have this conversation. “I consumed all of his research notes. Studied every folktale there is concerning the golden finger. Whenever I got angry with him—which was ninety percent of the time—I’d daydream about bringing down his life’s work and his entire empire.”

We run ten whole strides before he speaks next. “You know the magic crystal orb that the crocodiles guard so closely?”

“You mean the one that’s shooting rays of light out of your bag?” I tease.

“It’s not subtle,” he agrees. “But I guess it shouldn’t be. This crystal is the magical source of the entire island. Without it, none of this would exist. Our powers. The creatures of our folktales, like the naga, who protects the perimeter of the island. Sacred objects, such as the weapons of lore and the trees with the gold and silver leaves. All of it is powered through the crystal.”

He ceases running and turns me to face him. His dark hair and eyelashes swallow the moonbeams. And yet, I can see, as clear as ever, the solemn set of his lips. The determination in his eyes.

“We have to stop him, Alaia. The nightmare of this island doesn’t end just because he’s found his Lotus Flower Champion. He’ll only want more power, get more greedy. He’ll seek out even rarer abilities. All the while, we—and all of our friends—will remain trapped here. This island is his obsession. And the more you feed an obsession, the stronger it gets.”

“Believe me, Bodin,” I say. “You don’t need to tell me that.”

He drops his forehead so that it’s pressing against mine. “I can’t…live like this anymore,” he says, his voice hollowed out with pain. “I can’t actively participate—or even stand by—while innocent people get hurt, lose their freedom and their lives. All to feed the ego of a man who can’t let go of his past. But I can’t stop him without your help. The crystal orb is reinforced by its own magic. It cannot be destroyed with any brute human instrument. It requires the golden finger.”

“You have my help,” I say, cupping his cheek with my hand, “if I have yours.”

“Always.” He covers my hand, briefly.

And then we’re running again.

Before I know it, we burst into the clearing. I might’ve thought that it would look less magical in the night, its vivid gold and silver colors cloaked by shadows. I would’ve been wrong.

The leaves, although not as brilliant in the night, gleam in the moonlight, taking on an ethereal, ghostly glow, while their trees rise majestically into the sky, reaching out with spindly fingers to grasp the stars. The golden surface of the pond turns into a mirror, reflecting the setting moon in the sky. For a moment, my senses are assaulted by two moons. Two Bodins. Two beams of light shining from two orbs.

“Wait a minute,” I say as a panicked thought occurs to me. “Will I have to turn into a tree?”

“Nope,” Bodin says. “The only reason I had to go through that transformation is because I don’t have your power. If Xander’s research is correct, all you have to do is dip your finger into the golden pond and will your finger to turn gold.”

I frown at my reflection in the pond—and not just because this is the first time I’ve seen my sunburned cheeks and wild hair. “Will it work? My ability didn’t listen when I tried to will the double-edged sword into my hand.”

“You weren’t in any danger from me,” he reminds me gently. “In contrast, you are in very real danger from my father.” He checks his watch, the creases in his forehead deepening. “Who probably sounded the alarm ten minutes ago. Guards are probably closing in on us as we speak.”

I nod. And then, I put down my sword, focus on my unfortunate reflection in the water, and center my mind. I’m not being asked to do anything strenuous. Anything that will push me or flare up my OCD. Sure, I have to dip my finger in potentially unclean water. But I’ve already submerged my body in the murky waters inside the cave.

But this moment calls for ceremony. For solemnity and concentration. I’m not sure how else my ability will know to abide by my wishes.

Please, super special ability inside of me. Turn my finger gold. More than that, imbue that digit with all of the powers contained in the ancient folklore. The power to reverse death. The power to destroy the crystal. Any other cool, nifty powers you think I would like.

I take a deep breath, and then I plunge my pinkie into the water. I draw it up a moment later, holding my finger up to the sky.

Water trickles down its sides; my nail is in desperate need of an emery board…and that’s it. No flashy gold color. No unearthly tingle, no unexplained warmth. Nothing to indicate any magic whatsoever has occurred.

“Did I do it wrong?” I venture.

“I’m not sure.” Bodin stares at my finger, unblinking. He even takes the crystal orb out of the duffel bag and shines its light on my finger, as though the color did turn—and we just can’t see it in the night.

But no. It’s just a pinkie—no one would say it’s long, but I still like to think of it as elegant.

“It’s possible that your ability hasn’t reached that level yet,” Bodin says, frowning. “Remember, it’s been showing up in stages. First, you were able to navigate through the dark. Then, the darts broke in midair. After that, the lotus flowers sprouted under your feet. Each phenomenon was preceded by an event that pushed you emotionally.”

His voice speeds up as he warms to the theory. “Maybe you haven’t reached your emotional limit yet. Maybe there’s something else that you need to do or endure before you can access this specific manifestation of your power.”

“Like what?” I ask doubtfully. “Do you want me to throw myself into the sea and beg the naga to eat me?”

Before Bodin can respond, the woods come alive. Dozens of booted feet stomp on the ground. It’s Xander’s army, and they don’t bother to hide their presence. In fact, they’re probably emphasizing it in order to send a message. Don’t even bother running. We’ve got you surrounded.

Two rows of croc-people march into the clearing, encircling us and the pond. Some wear misshapen masks over their faces, but most hold their crocodile heads high in the rapidly brightening sky.

Bringing up the rear is the big boss himself. The scientist who controls this entire island. The man whom I hate more than I’ve ever imagined possible.

Xander.

But he’s not alone. He’s dragging Mama behind him, locked up in glowing windcuffs.