Curse of the Broomstaff

  Olin scooted across the blackened soil, drawing even closer to Spencer. “When you became an Auran, your body underwent a physiological change. As part of that change, Glop was introduced to your system.”

  “What system?”

  Olin rolled his eyes. “Your body.”

  The answer surprised Spencer. “There’s Glop inside my body?”

  “Just trace amounts,” he answered, “in all your bodily fluids—blood, tears, sweat, saliva, urine.”

  Spencer couldn’t suppress a chuckled cough. Did Olin just say urine?

  “Oh, grow up,” Olin hissed. But that was oddly funny too, since Spencer was never going to grow up. “Anyway,” Olin went on. “The Glop is most concentrated in blood and spit.”

  Spencer didn’t like this topic. “Being an Auran just got gross.” He shuddered.

  Olin lifted his hand in front of his mouth and spat into the palm. Spencer made a face and scooted away.

  “The Glop in your body reacts to friction,” Olin said. He rubbed his hands together, smearing the glob of spit between his palms. “Spit’s the easiest to use since it’s always available.” He held out his damp hands. Spencer wanted to throw up. “Of course, it’s not working for me because of the Pan,” Olin said. “Normally, a bit of friction will activate the Glop, causing your hands to glow with the Aura.”

  Spencer remembered the Aura. It had surrounded him after he had pounded the nail into the School Board last September.

  “This part’s very important, so listen up,” Olin continued. “Right hand Glopifies. Left hand de-Glopifies.”

  “Anything I touch?” Spencer asked.

  Olin nodded. “Anything janitorial. And the powers of the Dark Aurans are not limited like those of the warlocks.”

  “Limited?”

  “Our stuff doesn’t max out.” Olin grinned rakishly. “It just gets stronger and stronger.”

  “Like the Vortex.” Spencer nodded. “So how do I get Marv out of the bag?”

  Olin stood up and stuck out his neck, eager for Spencer to un-Pan him. “Take this off and I’ll tell you how.”

  Spencer rose awkwardly to his feet beside the Dark Auran. He lifted his hands and looked at the palms. “So,” he said, stalling. “I just spit?”

  “They sure made it easy, didn’t they?” Olin said, his expression anxious as he wondered at the delay. “Any time now.” He stepped even closer. “Left hand, remember.”

  “I . . .” Spencer stammered. His mouth felt dry, and the prospect of spitting into his hands was growing more and more repulsive.

  “Just do it,” Olin said.

  “But . . . I don’t like spit,” Spencer finally admitted. “I kind of have a germ thing . . .”

  There was a sound behind him. Spencer whirled to see V and Rho leading the Rebels in a dead sprint for their position. They were zigzagging wildly, dodging flames as they erupted from the unstable tanks of propane.

  Spencer spun back around, finally committing to do the job and de-Glopify Olin’s Pan. But in the brief moment that Spencer had turned, the Dark Auran had disappeared.

  Spencer felt a surge of panic. He had wasted his chance to free Olin, his Glopifying power was still undiscovered, and he still didn’t know how to rescue Marv from the Vortex.

  A small piece of paper fluttered at Spencer’s feet, the only piece of trash in the baked wasteland. He hadn’t noticed it a moment ago. Hurriedly, Spencer scooped it up and unfolded it.

  There was a simple message, written in what must have been Olin’s handwriting.

  Rho knows about you

  “What happened?” V asked. “Where’s Olin?”

  “I don’t know,” Spencer said, crumpling the paper into his hand. “He was here one second and gone the next. Must have dropped back into the tunnel.”

  “What did he tell you?” V asked.

  Spencer’s eyes moved to Rho, but she was looking down. Olin’s note said she knew. Rho already knew that Spencer was an Auran! He had suspected it, feared it, even. But as long as she didn’t say anything to the others, then Spencer would be safe.

  “What did Olin tell you?” V asked again.

  But Spencer was spared from answering as the propane tank right next to him erupted with flame. Walter pulled him aside as the fire singed his backpack. The note tumbled from Spencer’s hand and whipped into the hot fire.

  “Nothing,” Spencer finally answered. “Olin didn’t say anything.”

  Spencer watched the note turn to white ash and scatter on the breeze.

  Chapter 44

  “It smells like an ambush in there.”

  The rest of the journey across the landfill passed slowly for Spencer. The weather grew muggy and the air seemed thick. Spencer saw storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

  Spencer had all his trust staked on Rho now. If she revealed his identity as an Auran, the other girls would likely rally against him. According to Aryl, they would take him to the Broomstaff and give him a Pan of his own. But if Rho kept it quiet, everything would play out smoothly.

  As the sun began to set, V and Rho led the Rebels over a wide mound of trash, and they found themselves at the edge of a forest. But this was unlike any forest Spencer had ever seen.

  Instead of deep green trees, there were huge forks and spoons rising from the littered soil. Most were plastic, with a scattering of bent metal utensils. They stood stock straight by the thousands, some right side up, with the tines in the air, others downturned, digging into the ground as if it were a humongous piece of cake.

  “We’re almost to the Glop source,” V said. “We should eat something before we head in.” The storm clouds were overhead now, resulting in a sudden drop in temperature.

  “What about staying ahead of the storm?” Alan asked. V shrugged. “A little rain never hurt anybody.”

  “I don’t have a great feeling about this place,” Bernard said, peering into the forest. “It smells like an ambush in there.”

  Daisy sniffed the air. “What does an ambush smell like?”

  “Have you ever smelled a dirty sock?” the garbologist asked. “I mean, really smelled it, with your nose right in there?”

  “Yes.” Daisy nodded. “Is that what an ambush smells like?”

  “Not at all.” Bernard cracked a smile. “But why on earth would you smell a dirty sock?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Rho interrupted. “If there was danger ahead, Gia and the others would have doubled back to warn us.”

  “No offense,” said Penny, “but I don’t really have a lot of confidence in your scout team. We’ve already been through a couple of tight squeezes without a word from them.”

  “That’s the nature of the landfill,” V said. “Things are changing all the time. We stay on our toes and we’ll be fine.”

  Something dark swept out of the utensil forest with a rush of leathery wings. Penny dove aside a split second before armored talons closed. The giant Rubbish shrieked, blowing a huge plume of black dust from deep within its throat.

  A BEM rider leaned over the edge of his Extension Rubbish and shouted.

  “Attack!”

  From the depths of the utensil forest sprang a dozen Pluggers. And riding at the front, on a slobbering, vicious Filth, was Leslie Sharmelle.

  Chapter 45

  “What kind of soda?”

  There was barely time to react. In a heartbeat, Leslie’s gang of Pluggers was everywhere. Spencer reeled away, dropping his backpack and scrambling for his weapons.

  “How did they get into the landfill?” Penny screamed as the Pluggers closed in.

  “The gorge doesn’t keep out Toxites,” V answered. “They probably flew, or burrowed, or climbed. What I’m wondering is how they knew you were here?”

  Leslie’s hungry-eyed Filth was the answer. The creature was still baited with Alan’s scent. There was nowhere the Rebels could go that the Extension Filth wouldn’t find them.

  Alan smashed into the nearest Extension Grime with a pushbr
oom. The creature’s Glopified armor repelled the attack, which barely did enough to knock it back. Its long tongue snaked out, but Spencer’s dad batted it away.

  As the Grime breath reached her, Daisy turned in distraction to look at the forest. “Whoa! Those are definitely the biggest spoons I’ve ever seen. Just think about how much cereal I could eat in one bite!”

  An Extension Grime paused next to the distracted Daisy. Its neck started to balloon, filling with venomous slime. Walter reached the girl just as the creature expectorated. Walter and Daisy tumbled to the ground inches from a steaming smear of greenish slime.

  The Extension Grime doubled for a second attack, but V leapt into the fray. The Spade thrust like a spear and punctured through the Grime’s Glopified armor, causing the rider to pull back.

  In the wide-open space, the Pluggers had a huge advantage. The Extension Rubbishes were circling like vultures, diving at the Rebels whenever an opportunity presented itself.

  “Into the forest!” Walter shouted, dragging Daisy toward the huge utensils. Penny cleared a path, her mop strings woven into a defensive net. An Extension Filth came loping in for Spencer. He felt its breath and swooned with fatigue. Alan shot a stream of air freshener and pulled his son into the safety of the silverware.

  At the edge of the forest, one of the Extension Rubbishes went into a steep dive, hoping to pick off Bernard as he slipped into the shelter of the utensils. Wings folded back and armored talons flexed, but Penny screamed a warning.

  Bernard flopped down on the ground, covering his head with both hands. Penny’s mop strings whipped overhead, lassoing tightly onto the stem of a metal fork. With a grunt, she pulled.

  The Glopified strings bent the huge fork, angling the sharp upturned tines just perfectly. The Extension Rubbish, at the steepest part of its dive, was unable to turn aside. There was a crunch as the fork stabbed through the armor. The creature croaked once, impaled high upon the tall fork. Then it disintegrated, leaving its rider perched precariously on the sharp tines.

  The Rebels had fought their way into the forest, but Leslie’s Extension Filth instantly took after them, anxious to sink its buckteeth into Alan Zumbro.

  There was a low rumble of thunder overhead. The heavy clouds let down a few drops—a mere warning of what was sure to come.

  The Rebels were ducking and weaving through the utensils, staying as close together as they could manage. As in a true dense forest, it was dark among the tall silverware. And the blackening clouds only served to block out the last glimmer of daylight.

  Spencer felt his heart racing as the sound of Pluggers pursued them through the forest. The Rubbishes flew overhead, waiting for a clearing in the utensils. The Filths bludgeoned their way forward, spiky quills raking through the forks and spoons. But the Grimes were catching up, their reptilian bodies easily designed to move through tight spaces.

  There was a bright flash of lightning overhead, momentarily silhouetting the Extension Rubbishes against the dark sky. Thunder cracked and the clouds opened their full fury. Sheets of rain poured down, causing the dry ground to run with muddy rivulets. There was another flash in the stormy sky.

  “This is not a good place to be in a lightning storm!” Alan shouted to his companions. It was true. Nothing could be worse than running through a forest with metal trees. “We need to find shelter!”

  “There’s a cave over there!” V pointed through the utensils, her long white hair hanging in wet ropes from the rain. “This way!”

  Daisy slipped in the mud, but Spencer pulled her back up as they raced for shelter. For a brief moment, Spencer lost sight of V. Then lightning brightened the sky and he saw her standing in the mouth of a black cave. He ran toward her, the utensils thinning until he found himself in the open air once more. Without the cover of the silverware, the rain was more intense than ever. Spencer could barely breathe as the water struck his face.

  “Everybody inside!” V shouted. Penny was already in the opening, reaching out for her uncle and pulling Walter through the mouth of the cave and into the shelter. Bernard and Alan ducked through as Spencer helped Daisy find her footing in the threshold.

  There was something strange about the cave. The sound of rain pinging overhead reminded Spencer of BBs on a tin roof. The air was stale, with a peculiar, moldy scent. The pounding rain was almost deafening, but their shelter seemed dry and secure.

  Rho and V stood just outside the cave’s opening, watching for approaching Pluggers. Walter fumbled in his backpack and produced a flashlight. The bulb flicked on and illuminated the cave.

  Their shelter was perfectly smooth and rounded, forming a cylindrical chamber that dead-ended a short way down. Spencer reached out and touched the wall. It was hard, but not stone. It felt more like cold metal.

  “Guys,” Bernard said. He was crouching at the end of the tunnel, his yellow boot sticking to something that had pooled there. Walter’s light shone on the viscous puddle, and the garbologist leaned down and swiped the substance with his finger.

  Spencer looked away as Bernard lifted the finger to his mouth and took a quick taste.

  “I don’t think this is a cave,” the garbologist said. “I think it’s a giant soda can.”

  “What kind of soda?” Daisy asked. ”“Going by this residue,” said Bernard. “I’d say it’s a 7-Up can.”

  The shape of the cave made sense now. It was an aluminum can, a hundred sizes too large, lying on its side in the mud. The cave’s mouth made a perfect oval where the can had been popped open.

  “I don’t like this,” Penny said. “Only one way out.”

  Alan nodded. “We should get out of here while we can . . .”

  Mop strings flicked through the oval opening and seized Spencer around the middle. He was jerked outside, back into the pouring rain.

  Spencer skidded on his back in the mud, writhing to see who had attacked him. As he traced the mop strings back to their source, his heart sank.

  It was Rho.

  Spencer sat up just in time to see V slam her pushbroom into the side of the soda can. The rain-soaked soil gave way into a tremendous landslide; carrying the old aluminum can down a slippery slope.

  Spencer watched his friends topple out of sight. He staggered to his feet and lunged at V. But the Auran was too quick. She turned, drawing a green spray bottle from her belt and pulling the trigger. A fine green mist engulfed Spencer. He felt his legs weaken and buckle. Spencer fell backward, and Rho caught him under the arms.

  His vision was growing fuzzy, and, try as he might, Spencer couldn’t remember who had just sprayed him with the green solution. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he blacked out completely.

  Chapter 46

  “I love a storm like this.”

  Spencer awoke to cold water in his face. The rain was still coming down in sheets, forcing him to gasp for air as he sat up.

  His brain felt patchy as he tried to piece together the recent events. He remembered fighting Leslie’s gang of Pluggers in the utensil forest. He remembered taking shelter in an oversized 7-Up can. He remembered Rho pulling him out and V knocking the can down the hill. But he couldn’t remember anything after that.

  Where was he? How had he gotten here?

  “He’s awake!” came a shout from behind him. Spencer turned to find all ten Aurans standing in a wet huddle.

  “What’s going on?” Spencer said. “What happened?”

  “We’ve arrived,” V said, striding to the front of the group. She gestured to her right, and Spencer turned.

  A short distance away was a man-made lake. But it was not a friendly lake of flowing crystal water. It was a stagnant lagoon of grayish sludge, radiating a visible energy. Spencer recognized the disgusting substance, even though he’d never seen so much in one place.

  It was a lagoon of Glop. It bubbled and roiled, emitting a foul, sulfuric odor.

  At the center of the lagoon was an island of scorched, barren soil. And rising from the center of the island was
the largest broom Spencer had ever seen. It towered nearly a hundred feet high, planted in the earth like a gnarly tree trunk. The broomstick was coarse wood, twisted and crooked as it rose higher. At the top, the straw bristles splayed heavenward, worn and weathered from hundreds of years of solitude. It was a witch’s broom, old-fashioned and frightening.

  “This is it?” Spencer muttered. “This is the source of all Glop?”

  V laughed. “No, no. In fact, we have no idea where to find the source of all Glop.”

  “But you said . . .” stammered Spencer. “You were leading us . . .”

  “It was a lie,” V said flatly. “We needed to get you out here and we knew you’d take the bait.”

  Spencer glanced back at the Glop lagoon with the gnarled broomstick rising from its heart. If this wasn’t the Glop source, then it could mean only one thing. “The Broomstaff,” Spencer whispered, feeling a pit of despair open in his stomach.

  Rho stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Spencer.”

  “You . . .” He couldn’t find the words. His eyes were stinging and his throat was tightening. “I trusted you!”

  “You never would have come here if I’d told you the truth,” Rho said.

  “Exactly,” V interjected. “Rho was critical in making this work. We’ve known about you for quite some time, Spencer. Ever since Rho was sent to New Forest Academy to spy on you.”

  “What?” Spencer faced Rho, feeling sick inside. “You said you went to the Academy to spy on Director Garcia.”

  “Why would I need to do that,” Rho asked, “when I can see every move Garcia makes through bronze visions? I was there for you. We would have captured you sooner, but we knew you were on the trail to solving the thirteen clues. If you succeeded, you would come to us.”

  “You’ve been planning this?” he yelled.

  Rho nodded. “For months.”

  “So now what?” Spencer cried. “Now you’re going to Pan me?”

  “How did you know about the Pan?” V narrowed her eyes. “So you did speak with Olin!”