THIRTY-EIGHT

“Enrique. Hey, Enrique. You up?”

“Go away. Too early. Tired.”

Thomas waited a minute, then flipped the light switch. “Enrique. Let’s go. It’s time to get up.”

Enrique groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. “Noooo. Need sleep. Tired.”

“Come on. Let’s get some breakfast and start training. Enrique.”

Thomas leaned against the door, thrumming his fingers against the frame. He could teleport at will now, but Enrique’s progress had been painfully slow. Two days of struggle and still he hadn’t made the breakthrough. Thomas kept hoping Squat would intervene, but the unkempt magician had been a non-entity. He’d hinted at the next lesson—something to do with projecting energy from the hands—and then retreated without demonstrating or offering specifics. Not super helpful.

Meanwhile, the tension in the house was mounting rapidly. There was no word from Garibaldi about the location of the last crystal, and every hour felt like a steady march toward doom. Thomas couldn’t help feeling that Arius had the more powerful seer on his side and would find the crystal first. Whatever the case, the adults were hardly talking anymore, and everyone seemed stressed. “Yo, ’Rique. Time to get started.”

“Bad friend. Go away,” grunted Enrique. “Enrique tired. Need sleep.”

“Lazy friend, wake up,” said Thomas, smiling in spite of his impatience. “Eat food. Practice magic. Have fun.”

Enrique sighed and peered out from under the pillow. “Ugh. What time is it?”

“Magic time.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Enrique yawned and rubbed his face. “It feels early.”

“I know,” said Thomas. Enrique was right. It was still dark outside, but he needed his friend to catch up so they could both move on to the next challenge. “But I’m up, and now you are, too. Exciting, right?”

“Exciting isn’t the word I’d use,” said Enrique. “What’s the hurry anyway?”

“Don’t know,” said Thomas. He did know. Kind of. An intense dream had pulled him from sleep—the last clear image was a flash of purple light silhouetting a man with a coat billowing around him. The rest of the details had scattered, but now he was wide awake and had a gnawing compulsion to visit the kitchen. “Come on, let’s grab breakfast and get back to work.”

Enrique sat up with a grunt. “Fine, but you owe me. I could have slept another ten hours. Easy.”

“Deal,” said Thomas. “Now come on, let’s roll. I’m hungry.”

“You’re hungry? How about I feed you a knuckle sandwich?” said Enrique. “What time is it, anyway? For real? It feels early. Sleep spoiler.”

Thomas shrugged and stepped into the hallway. It was empty, as was the great room when he got there a minute later. He glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. 5:57. It was too early for a rational human being to be awake, and he couldn’t logically explain the compulsion to go to the kitchen, much less the need to have Enrique come along. He didn’t even try to defend himself when Enrique muttered “knucklehead” and thumped his shoulder.

“That’s my bad,” said Thomas. “I’ll get breakfast.”

He pulled a pair of cereal bowls from the cupboard and set them on the granite island, then grabbed spoons from the drawer. As he set the spoons down, a box of Life cereal and a carton of milk appeared on the table. Enrique flashed a victorious smile, pointed at his own chest, and mouthed the word “magic.”

Thomas mentally kicked himself. He could have summoned the gear himself. Rookie mistake.

An almost musical rattle accompanied the clatter of cereal tumbling into his bowl. The sound disappeared so quickly he didn’t bother turning around. Instead, he handed the box to Enrique and poured himself some milk. The rattling came again, slightly louder this time, and clearer.

“What’s that?” asked Thomas, his mouth full of the still-crunchy cereal. A thin trickle of milk escaped his lips. He wiped at it with his sleeve.

Enrique glanced over his shoulder. A puzzled look crossed his face, and then surprise. His eyes widened. He scrambled onto the granite countertop, pulling his legs up so quickly his chair clattered to the ground. The rattling became a chorus, no longer distant and musical, but angry and close.

“T-thomas,” stammered Enrique. “Y-you have to get up here. Now!”

Thomas’s heart jumped into his throat. A giant snake had coiled just a few feet away, head raised and knobby tail rattling dangerously. At least four more were slithering into the kitchen from the great room. All of their tails were equipped with the same telltale rattle. Thomas fought the urge to panic and forced himself to climb slowly onto the granite. His eyes never left the nearest snake. The thing seemed poised to strike at any second. “Those are rattlesnakes.”

“No kidding, Sherlock,” whispered Enrique. He had slid as far back from the coiled snake as the narrow strip of granite allowed. “What are rattlesnakes doing in here?”

“I don’t know.” Thomas watched as the other snakes coiled, their tails lifted into the air. “Can rattlesnakes jump?”

“Don’t know, and I don’t want to find out,” said Enrique. “Let’s teleport out of here and call for help?”

Thomas shook his head. “The others could wake up any minute. What if one of them came in here before we could warn them?”

“That’d be bad.” Enrique looked down, his eyes fearful. “There’s no way I’m trying to jump past those things. What’s your great idea?”

“We blast them with energy,” said Thomas. “Squat says it’s possible. Maybe this is some kind of training exercise.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Enrique. The nearest snake hissed and shook its rattle. He kicked a stool away from the island. It clattered over with a bang, nearly landing on the smallest snake. The serpent lunged, striking at the leg of the chair with his venomous fangs before coiling once more. The rattling doubled in intensity, taking on an almost frenzied quality. “One minor problem. We don’t know how.”

“We’d better learn—” Thomas froze mid-sentence. There was rattling coming from behind him now, too. He looked over his shoulder and saw a thick snake slithering along the countertop, tail shaking as it approached. A second was close behind, making its way up the leg of the tilted stool, using it like a makeshift ramp. Within seconds, the deadly creatures would be separated from the granite island by only a few feet of empty space.

Enrique pulled himself to the center of the granite. “This is bad. Really, really bad.”

Fear and anger mingled in Thomas’s chest. He aimed his hands at the snake closest to him, his eyes scrunched up with concentration. “Fire!”

Nothing happened.

The snake began to coil. Enrique aimed his hands and grunted. “This isn’t working.”

“Figure it out,” said Thomas. “Fast!”

“I’m trying!” Enrique pounded his hands into the granite. A fresh round of rattling erupted, angrier and closer than ever.

The diamond-shaped head wobbled back and forth, beady eyes fixed directly on Thomas. Blood and adrenaline pounded through Thomas’s veins. He aimed his palm at the creature and yelled again. “Fire! Shoot!”

He felt a spark kindling in his gut, energy flushing into his hands. The snake hissed, its mouth opened, revealing fangs dripping with deadly venom.

“Something’s happening,” shouted Enrique. “I can feel it.”

Thomas could, too. An image flashed in his mind—particles flowing through his body into his hand and blasting outward with a burst of blue light. The spark took on fuel, feeding on energy and adrenaline until there was a fire raging in his belly. The synapses clicked into place. He felt the answer in his body. His hands relaxed.

The snake pulled itself into a tighter coil, its head recoiling even as its slithering tongue forked between deadly fangs.

A white-hot sensation burned in the center of Thomas’s forehead, building in intensity as the creature prepared to strike. Suddenly it launched into the tiny space that divided them, its jaws open and fangs dripping with venom.

“Eeeyaaii!” shouted Thomas. Sizzling fire blazed in his mind, burning a trail to the palm of his hand. A burst of blue light exploded outward, striking the creature mid-flight. The snake collapsed into a heap on the floor.

A wordless and primal scream issued from Enrique as a green flash lit up the kitchen.

The second countertop snake launched itself at Thomas. Another ball of light exploded from his palm, blazing outward until it struck the airborne creature. It thudded to the floor as if it had slammed into a pane of glass. Like the other, it was either unconscious or dead.

Enrique shouted again, and another green flash lit up the kitchen. And another. Thomas turned. Three snakes lay on the ground, their bodies limp and unmoving.

Enrique looked at him with wide eyes. “Did you see that?”

Thomas shook his head. His palms burned with the lingering traces of energy. He jumped to his feet, eyes locked on the last two snakes. They were coiled just inside of the door, their tails rattling furiously.

Enrique flashed a fierce grin and stood beside him. “You take the one on the right. I’ve got the one on the left. On three.”

“On three.”

“One. Two. Three.” Their voices blended, and then blue light ripped from Thomas’s palm, thudding into the coiled body of the larger snake. The thing tumbled backward even as a matching ball of green energy blasted from Enrique’s hand and slammed into the other.

“Bam!” said Enrique. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

Thomas’s entire body tingled, head to toe. Even his hair felt alive and vibrant. The bodies of seven snakes littered the kitchen floor.

A hulking shadow suddenly materialized in the great room, lumbering forward. Thomas almost let fire with another blast of energy. “What’s with all the commotion? Folks are trying to get some shuteye around here.”

Thomas lowered his hands. It was Professor Reilly, his voice grumpy and tired. “Sorry, Professor. We had a little incident with snakes.”

“With what?”

“Snake!” shouted Enrique.

An enormous rattler slithered out from behind a trash can a few feet from Professor Reilly, tail rattling like a maraca. The professor cried out and took a stumbling half-step back, his face a mask of pure fear. The rattling intensified as the creature pulled itself into a swift coil, its head cocking back as it prepared to strike.

The snake launched itself toward the professor, fangs aiming at the open flesh of his hairy legs. Professor Reilly screamed and fell backward onto the floor.

Thomas’s hand was up and aimed on pure instinct. Green light exploded into the serpent, followed almost instantly by a burst of blue. The creature tumbled forward, moist fangs clacking on the hard floor inches from Professor Reilly’s bare feet. He scrambled backward, a whimpering moan of terror tumbling from his lips as moved into the giant living room.

For a long moment, there was silence as the professor’s mouth worked wordlessly. “Bloody hell! Rattlesnakes in the kitchen? What in the name of Moses is happening around here?”

“Training.” Squattapus appeared in the corner of the kitchen, materializing as smoothly as the Cheshire cat. His voice was amused, his lips pulled into the ghost of a smile.

“Training?” Professor Reilly’s eyes widened. “This was your doing? That bloody thing nearly bit my bloody leg.”

“Then it’s a good thing they learned quickly.” Squattapus snapped his fingers and the snakes disappeared. He vanished as well, but not before Thomas saw the half smile on his face. A second later, Squat’s disembodied voice echoed through the kitchen. “Lesson over. Now practice.”