Secrets of Yden

Because of his mother's dinner plans, Jon transported home on Sunday early enough to help her get ready for company. As a precaution, he stashed the dark magic scrolls in the old popcorn tin in his closet. His fingers itched to open at least one, but he couldn't spare the time. After dinner, he had to work the next section in math and read a short story for English class. He gnashed his teeth in frustration, but the scrolls would have to wait another day or two.

He headed for the kitchen, and as he was slicing chunks of seedless watermelon, the doorbell rang.

His mother let Charles, Lynn, and January in. They chatted in the entryway for a few moments, and then it sounded to Jon like Lynn was showing January around the house. He was glad he'd straightened up his room, although his knapsack was still heaped at the foot of his bed, stuffed with dirty laundry. Oh, well. Charles went straight out to the patio where Jon's father was manning the grill. After Jon finished cutting melon, he covered the platter with plastic wrap and brought it outside to where his father and uncle were enjoying icy bottles of something from the cooler.

His father handed Jon a folded newspaper. "You made the entertainment section of the paper, son."

Jon peered at the newspaper, braced for impact. His publicity photo accompanied the headline 'Local Prodigy Electrifies in Upcoming Exhibit'. He scanned the article, but it was nothing more than a rehash of the information in the museum mailing.

"Jon's worried a reporter is going to dredge up that stuff written about him last year," Dr. Hansen said.

"Not a problem," he replied. "I'm looking forward to seeing your exhibit, actually."

Mrs. Hansen, Lynn, and Sela appeared on the patio, but January wasn't with them.

"My sister is quite taken with your artwork," Lynn said to Jon. "She's looking through your portfolio right now. I hope that's okay."

Jon's eyes grew wide. His actual leather portfolio was still with Mr. Emerson, and the portfolio Lynn was referring to was the heavy paper envelope he used for his school artwork. It had been sitting on an easel just inside the doorway of his room, and it contained the horror portrait he'd drawn of January in art class.

"Excuse me," he said. He casually melted from the patio back into the house, but when he was out of sight, he tore up the stairs and bolted down the hallway to his room. Unfortunately, January was standing there with the horror portrait in her hand.

She glanced up when Jon appeared. "This is a new look for me, but I kind of like it."

"You were assigned to draw a picture of me as a vampire?" she asked with mock surprise.

January giggled. "Has anyone ever told you that you take yourself too seriously? I know you meant this picture as a slam, but it's totally awesome. I want to keep it."

Their gazes locked for several seconds in a contest of wills, but she didn't flinch when Jon brushed past. He uncapped one of the protective cardboard tubes he kept on hand, took the sketch from January, and began to roll it up.

Without comment, he signed the sketch, rolled it up, and slipped it inside the tube. After capping the end, he gave the tube to her. "Knock yourself out."

In the late afternoon light streaming in from the window, January was captivating. Maybe even as beautiful as Kira. Yet Jon was not attracted to her in the least. "Come with me to my homecoming dance," he said before he could think about it too much. "It's the Saturday after next."

Jon rolled his eyes and made a sound of disgust at the lamest excuse he'd ever heard. "Skip it. It's a horrible idea anyway, and I only asked you to tick someone off."

January grabbed his arm as he started for the door. "I actually do have to check with my agent, but I'm sure it'll be okay."

"Of course I heard you. It's as good a reason as any, and better than most. You can repay the favor by taking me to my homecoming dance this Saturday."

"Yeah. Everyone will be expecting me to go with someone famous. I'd rather have a pop star, but a local artist will have to do. It's kind of classy, and the publicity might help me get some serious roles."

Stunned, Jon stared at January Beck in disbelief. She had a single-minded focus on self-promotion that was impressive. As cold and calculating as it was, he had to admire the fact she knew what she wanted out of life and how to get it.

On Monday Jon got his math quiz back marked with an A. The good grade made him feel guilty, as if he'd cheated somehow by getting extra time. What am I supposed to do? Inform Mr. Glaser there was an anomaly during the test and therefore he should deduct points from my score? Probably not a good plan. And although he was worried some of his classmates would razz him about the Sunday newspaper article, no one mentioned it. So much for raising my profile. I guess stories with a positive spin don't attract as much attention as the nasty ones.

After school, Jon brought Casey up to date on the most recent anomaly and enlisted his help with research the next weekend.

"I'd like that," he replied. "I'll get to see Mo."

"Kira and Finn are doing research, too. And Brett. We discovered she can read runes without trying. Apparently the ability runs in the family."

"That's handy. I wish it worked that way for my Latin class."

"Oh, and by the way I've got a date for homecoming."

"Huh?"

"I'm taking January to her homecoming dance this Saturday, and she's coming with me to mine."

"Wow. How'd you manage that?"

"I made a deal with the devil, I think." He paused. "I just hope I can hang onto my soul."

When he arrived at school the next morning, Jon stared at his locker in dismay. The metal was splashed with a pinkish paint, and his first thought was someone had vandalized the entire school. As he glanced around, however, he didn't see any other damage except to his locker. After he opened the locker door, he realized whoever had wielded the paint had made a big effort to blow as much as possible inside through the vents at the top. The vandal must have used a straw because the interior resembled an abstract painting. The paint was still tacky, so Jon used paper towels from the bathroom to wipe off as much as he could. A lot of his books and gear were ruined, but that was just a minor annoyance. He knew he could clean the paint off at home with the help of the vanyean seed and a spell, but it seemed pretty clear someone at school was holding a grudge about something — probably Sunday's article, if he had to guess. And I thought no one had seen it.

Mr. Lloyd strolled through the hallway while Jon was wiping the inside of his locker with a wad of paper towels. Taken aback at the mess, the principal paused. "A little extra arts and crafts, Mr. Hansen?"

"Hello, Mr. Lloyd." The hallway was crowded with students at that point and Jon didn't want to be overheard being a rat. "I had a paint spill."

The principal gave the locker a shrewd look. "Voluntary, or involuntary?"

"Er… I'll get it cleaned up, sir."

"I'll send the janitor over." Mr. Lloyd examined the locker one last time and shook his head. "You're a talented kid. You can probably expect a little pushback."

"Yes, sir," Jon replied, confused. Pushback from what?

Several paper towels later, Fred appeared, grimacing at the mess.

"Dude, what happened? Did a bottle of stomach medicine explode in there?"

"Either that or somebody doesn't like me much."

"It's probably because of the newspaper story posted on the school bulletin board next to the quad."

"They put that thing where everyone could see it?" Jon asked, horrified.

"Oh, yeah. I saw a bunch of girls reading it and gazing lovingly at your picture." Fred batted his eyelashes and gave an exaggerated sigh. "If I didn't know you, I'd want to smear you with paint myself."

"That picture isn't me at all. The photographer airbrushed the whole thing."

"Doesn't matter. There's bound to be some fallout. Don't worry, though. I'm there for you." Fred pantomimed a boxing stance.

"I don't want anyone fighting my battles for me, but thanks." Jon chewed his lip. "I'll go by the bulletin board on my way to English class and tear the article down."

"Good luck. If you hadn't noticed, the bulletin board is behind a locked pane of glass. Unless you've got your magic mojo seed, it ain't gonna happen."

That's just peachy.

At lunch, Brett chided Jon for not mentioning the exhibit.

"It's not a big deal," he said.

"Of course it's a big deal. Everyone's talking about it. A bunch of us are planning to go after it opens. Did you tell Kira?"

"Why would I tell her?"

"Oh, I don't know… maybe because she's in it?" Brett retorted. "Warrior Princess!"

Jon shrugged and made a noncommittal response. If Kira found out about the exhibit, it wouldn't be from him. Besides which, a visit to the museum would make a groovy date night with Davy Thyssen, and Jon wasn't about to give him any ideas.

After Jon finished his homework that night, he locked his bedroom door and quietly selected a dark magic scroll from his secret stash. A tingling sensation raised gooseflesh on Jon's arm as he read. The scroll detailed how to cast illusions, evil illusions about the most morbid of fears. The spell was an instrument of torture called a night terror spell, and when Jon finished it, he was appalled. The whole concept reminded him of his nightmare about Guinn and the portal. Maybe Quixoran is right to keep these dark-tipped scrolls locked away. If the next scroll was anything like the first, he wasn't sure he'd be reading many more of them.

Jon's eyes darted back and forth as he read the second scroll, which contained the binding spell Efysian had used to hold wizards captive. Jon well remembered its effects; he'd been unable to move while Efysian tapped into his life energy like a sadistic six-foot mosquito. The Wolf Clan wizard had siphoned enough juice to transform himself into a teenager. At the time, it had mystified Jon why he and his father hadn't aged from the loss of energy like the other wizards who had withered away during captivity. Now that Jon knew he'd inherited his father's healing ability, the whole thing finally made sense.

Since the binding incantation might come in handy in the future, Jon memorized it. If he'd known how to bind Guinn, maybe he could have stopped him before he'd opened that dangerous portal. Consumed with regret, he squeezed his eyes closed as if to shut out the guilt. If only he'd known more magic, perhaps he could have prevented the anomalies now threatening Earth. As penance, he stayed up late scouring the remaining scrolls, desperately searching for anything else he could use.

I'm literally running out of time.

Casey came over to Jon's house for dinner Friday. He'd told his parents he would be in a marathon study session until late Sunday, but Jon was actually transporting him to Yden to help with the research. Mrs. Hansen made Casey's favorite — beef tacos. They were big tacos, and Casey polished off three, to Jon's amazement. Casey was so skinny; Jon wasn't quite sure where he was putting the food. By contrast, Jon could only manage to eat one, and he was hungry. Thus fortified, Jon and Casey transported to Dragon Isle — just in time for dessert.

The research team met in the library after breakfast the next morning. Before anyone had the chance to say anything, Casey pulled out a calculator and some graph paper and began plotting points.

"What are you doing?" Jon asked.

"Quixoran said we didn't have enough information to see a pattern, and that's true," Casey replied. "But here's my hypothesis so far—"

"Your what?" Finn interrupted.

"My theory," Casey replied. "One possible theory, anyway. Acknowledging, of course, that the recordation of the data was anecdotal, and also at this juncture we have insufficient data points to accurately—"

"Spit it out," Jon said.

"Okay… the first anomaly was less than a minute. The second was about ten minutes, by Jon's estimation. That's a tenfold increase."

"Where are you going with this?" Brett asked.

"The events were twenty days apart. So it's possible the next event window might occur twenty days later and last roughly ten times longer."

Jon did a quick calculation in his head. "That's one hundred minutes. Are you saying we're looking at an anomaly of an hour and forty minutes?"

Finn, Brett, and Kira gasped.

"Er… and so on," Casey said.

Jon gripped the arms of his chair. "What's that mean — and so on?"

"Twenty days thereafter we might see a time freeze of one thousand minutes," Casey said. "But this is all just gross speculation."

"Wait a minute." Brett grabbed Casey's calculator and punched in some numbers. "One thousand minutes works out to be over sixteen hours!"

"And the length of these freezes could continue to grow exponentially," Casey added. "In other words, very quickly." He drew a line between the points and held up his graph for everyone to see. It resembled a hockey stick and Jon felt sick to his stomach.

"Or it might not," Kira said. "Nobody knows."

"True. I don't want to scare anybody since it's just one theory. When we have more information, I'll adjust the theory to fit the data," Casey said.

"Yikes." Jon let Casey's words sink in for a few heartbeats. "What did you mean before by 'event window'?"

"Well, we can only make a general guess at when the next anomaly might occur," Casey replied. "If this theory pans out, time will virtually stop on Earth within months."

Jon sat back in his chair, certain the stunned expressions of his friends mirrored his own. "Okay. Let's get cracking and fix this thing."

Chapter Ten