Curse of the Broomstaff

  Then, as if in answer to her statement, the garbologist came hurtling through the snowy opening and landed with a clang not three feet from Spencer.

  Bernard was limp and motionless. His body steamed, covered in glowing green slime. Penny scrambled forward, pulling off his headlamp and turning the light on Bernard. Daisy stared in shock, but Spencer had to look away.

  “Is he . . .” Daisy swallowed. “You know, D-E-A-D?”

  “He’s going to be in a minute,” Penny said. Her hands were passing over Bernard, carefully stripping back his dissolving clothing and checking his pulse. Oozing burns covered his shoulders and neck.

  “What did they do to him?” Daisy asked.

  “Grime slime,” answered Spencer. He recognized the glowing gunk from the parking garage below New Forest Academy. The enlarged Grimes had the capability of filling their throats with poisonous slime. “It spat on him.”

  Daisy gulped. “I don’t think his arm is supposed to bend that way.” Spencer made the mistake of looking. It was like Bernard had two elbows in one arm.

  “Yeah,” Penny said. “His arm’s busted. I think he’s got a concussion, too.”

  Penny’s hand went to her waist. Spencer hadn’t noticed before, but there was a set of spray bottles dangling from her janitor belt. Seeing them reminded him of the terrifying vision of Mr. Clean, unstoppable with such weapons.

  Penny unclipped one of the bottles and flashed her headlamp across it. A bright orange liquid sloshed about halfway up the bottle. Penny adjusted the spray nozzle and pointed it at Bernard’s neck. Giving a few sprays, she misted the entire wounded area. Immediately, it began to foam and bubble, filling the garbage truck with the clean scent of citrus.

  “My dad says we’re not supposed to spray people with cleaning liquids,” Daisy said. “My cousins did it one time and they got nasty rashes.”

  Ignoring Daisy’s warning, Penny carefully removed Bernard’s aviator cap. There was a deep gash in his scalp, streaking his short dark hair with red. Penny squirted the cut from one end to the other until the entire gash had foamed over.

  “What is that stuff?” Spencer asked.

  But Penny was too focused on first aid to talk. She moved on to Bernard’s broken arm. Spencer couldn’t watch as she tugged away the sleeve. He heard the distinct spray of the bottle, and then Penny sighed.

  “It’s an all-purpose cleaning solution,” Penny said, “with peroxide.” She turned the headlamp back to Bernard’s neck. The foamy cleaner was receding from his shoulder, leaving the skin pink and fresh, as if it had never been burned.

  “And it’s a healing spray,” Penny said. She clipped the bottle back onto her belt. “It’s a race now.”

  “Relay race, or normal race?” Daisy asked. “Or threelegged race? I’m good at those.”

  “A life-and-death race,” Penny said. “If his wounds kill him before the cleaning solution takes effect, then there’s nothing we can do. Twenty . . . thirty minutes, and we’ll know.”

  Penny rose to her feet. “You two stay with him. If he wakes up, try to get him talking.” She headed for the open tailgate.

  “Where are you going?” Spencer asked. “They might still be out there!”

  “That’s what I intend to find out.” Penny dropped through the opening and out of sight.

  Spencer and Daisy turned back to Bernard. They didn’t dare say anything, as if speaking of death might bring it closer. They simply watched the garbologist, prone on the floor of his garbage truck, covered in foamy, citrus-smelling, all-purpose cleaning solution. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, and the rhythm of it seemed to put the two kids into a worried reverie.

  They had no idea how much time had passed before Penny returned. The agile young woman boosted herself into the back of the truck, something dangling from her hand.

  “They’re gone,” Penny said. “But I found this.” She held out the object, illuminating it with her headlamp. Spencer recognized it immediately as the extension cord he had severed with the razorblade. It was still attached to the battery pack the rider had strapped around his waist.

  “Is that what they use to ride the Toxites?” Daisy asked.

  “Looks like it.” Penny crouched next to the kids to inspect the battery pack. There was a dial in the center with a little blinking yellow light. When Penny turned the dial left, the exposed end of the extension cord sparked and the blinking light turned green. Penny twisted the dial the other direction. The electricity decreased and the light turned from yellow to amber to red.

  “The dial regulates the flow of Glopified electricity,” Penny said.

  “That’s how they control them,” Spencer said. “Remember the cords at New Forest Academy? When the Toxites were plugged in, they were calm. They like the electricity because it makes them grow.”

  “So,” Penny said, turning the dial back to green and increasing the electricity, “the Toxite won’t go anywhere if it’s on green. Like parking your car.”

  “But if you turn it to yellow, the Toxite starts getting angry. It realizes that it’s relocated and wants to attack.”

  “I don’t even want to imagine what happens if you turn it to red,” Daisy said.

  “Closer to red means less electricity,” Penny summed up. “Less electricity means angrier Toxites.” Penny blew a strand of red hair from her face. “This is bad. The BEM has a huge advantage with these . . . these Toxite-riders.”

  “Pluggers,” Spencer said. That was what Mr. Clean had called them when he rescued Leslie from prison. “The BEM calls the overgrown monsters Extension Toxites. The riders are called Pluggers. ”

  “You’ve seen them before?” Penny asked.

  Spencer nodded. “In a vision. Mr. Clean used an Extension Filth to rescue Leslie Sharmelle from prison. She’s a Plugger now.”

  Penny pointed outside. “That was your old substitute teacher out there?”

  Spencer shook his head. “I didn’t see Leslie tonight. But there’s a whole gang of Pluggers under her command,” he said. “Mr. Clean sent them on a manhunt to find my dad.”

  “Maybe that’s why they left,” Daisy said. “They realized that Alan wasn’t with us.”

  “But why were they here in the first place?” Penny said. “They followed me into the bus depot.”

  Bernard suddenly sat bolt upright, causing everyone else to jump back in surprise. “Which way did they go!” he shouted. “Where are they?”

  “Relax.” Penny put a hand on his knee. “It’s all right, it’s just us. They’re long gone by now.”

  Bernard closed his eyes in misery, and for a moment Spencer thought he might see the grown man cry. “They took the package!”

  Chapter 11

  “It’s a pattern.”

  Spencer awoke as the garbage truck’s engine roared to life. He blinked against the sunlight coming through the windshield. The Mickey Mouse clock on the dashboard said it was eight o’clock in the morning.

  Spencer hadn’t even realized that they’d stopped for gas until Penny restarted the truck and pulled away from the pump. Daisy was trying to wake up in the passenger seat next to him. Penny had duct taped a piece of tarp over the broken window. As the garbage truck pulled onto the highway and gathered speed, the tarp began to flap noisily.

  The package was gone. As horrible as it was, there was nothing to be done. The Pluggers were too far away by the time Bernard awakened. And with only one more rendezvous point, the most important thing was to get the team assembled. Alan would know what to do.

  Bernard snored softly in the space behind the seats. The garbage truck had an extended cab, but that didn’t mean there was room to get comfy.

  The garbologist had made a rapid recovery from his injuries. Penny’s Glopified all-purpose healing spray was truly magical. By the time the foamy orange cleaner had dried, Bernard was back to full health. The cut on his scalp had vanished as he dusted the dried foam from his hair. And his broken arm was functioning without so much as a br
uise.

  Despite Bernard’s miraculous recovery, Penny had insisted that she drive through the night, giving him a chance to rest up.

  “Where are we?” Spencer asked. His voice was raspy from sleep. Penny handed him a plastic sack from the gas station. Chocolate milk, a granola bar, and some muffins.

  “Breakfast,” Penny said. “We’re in Kansas.”

  Either the mention of breakfast or the thought of Kansas seemed to bring Daisy fully awake. “Better watch out for tornados,” she said, grabbing a chocolate milk from the sack. “That’s what got Dorothy, you know.”

  Penny grinned. “Looks like a clear day to me.”

  “Where’s the third rendezvous point?” Spencer opened his granola bar, careful to touch only the wrapper since he hadn’t washed his hands.

  “Triton Charter School,” Penny said. “Couple hours ahead. North of Wichita.”

  “Triton,” Spencer said under his breath. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”

  “Maybe ’cause it’s Ariel’s dad,” said Daisy.

  Then it came to him. Spencer snapped his fingers. “Aaron!”

  “No, it’s Ariel,” Daisy said.

  Spencer rolled his eyes. “I’m not talking about The Little Mermaid, Daisy.” He turned to Penny. “Triton Charter is one of our schools.”

  “Of course it is,” said Penny. “We’ve got a good Rebel working there. We wouldn’t set up a rendezvous point at a BEM school.”

  “No, I mean one of our schools.” He pointed at himself and Daisy. “We’ve got a Monitor at Triton Charter. His name is Aaron.”

  “Nice memory,” Daisy said. “I can’t remember where anybody is.”

  “I only remember because there was a special report from Triton just last week. Aaron sent me an email.”

  “Slow it down,” Bernard said, suddenly sitting up in the backseat. “What’s a Monitor?” Daisy passed him the breakfast sack while Spencer explained.

  “Last November, we escaped from New Forest Academy with about thirty other students,” Spencer said. “The bus driver, Meredith List . . .”

  “She’s actually our lunch lady,” Daisy interjected.

  “Meredith got everybody home,” Spencer continued. “But the students were pretty shaken up. They knew something magical had happened. They wanted to talk about it, so I gave them a way to get some answers. I told everybody to go back to their schools and get detention with the janitors.”

  “Good advice,” Penny muttered sarcastically.

  “It was the only way to find out if the janitors are Rebels or BEM. We watch the janitors, and my Monitors send reports about suspicious activity.”

  “Do you get a lot of reports?” Bernard asked.

  Spencer nodded. “Everybody writes in from time to time.”

  “Well, not everybody,” Daisy cut in. “We’re still waiting to hear from Jenna.”

  “Who’s Jenna?” asked Bernard.

  Spencer could feel his face going red. Jenna was a girl he’d spent a lot of time with at New Forest Academy. It was fairly common knowledge that she liked Spencer. He was secretly surprised that she’d never written to him, despite her promise to do so.

  Spencer didn’t want to answer Bernard’s question. He wasn’t there to talk about Jenna—not when there were much more important things happening at Triton Charter School.

  “Anyway,” Spencer said, abruptly changing the subject, “the reason I remember hearing about Triton Charter School is because Aaron reported an incident last Monday.”

  “What kind of incident?” Penny asked.

  “The Rebel janitor at Triton slipped on the stairs and broke his leg,” Spencer said. “So they’ve hired a temporary. Aaron thinks the new lady is just a custodian. Thinks she doesn’t know anything about magic or Toxites. We told him to be extra careful and keep a close eye on the new worker. I haven’t heard from him since. But it’s been a couple of days since I’ve checked my email.”

  “Hmm . . .” Bernard said. “This is going to complicate our rendezvous.”

  “Just because they hired a temporary custodian doesn’t mean she’s part of the BEM,” Penny said. “We’ll be extra careful and we’ll be fine.”

  “I wish there were a way to warn Walter and Alan,” Daisy said.

  “What about your visions, kid?” Bernard asked.

  “It doesn’t work like that,” answered Spencer. “The warlocks never know I’m watching.”

  “At least you could check on old Walter,” Bernard suggested. “See what he’s up to.”

  It was a good idea, even though Spencer wasn’t keen on it. He reached into his pocket for the bronze medallion. “Be right back,” he said, wrapping his fingers around the medal.

  The cab of the garbage truck disintegrated, his head reeled in the whiteness, and then he was brushing his teeth. With a mirror directly in front of him, there was no mistaking the warlock.

  It was Director Carlos Garcia.

  His dark hair was combed and gelled, the collar of his white shirt pressed. Spencer got an immediate location on him. The director was northwest of Denver, nestled into the mountains at New Forest Academy. The location didn’t surprise Spencer since he knew that Garcia lived in a house on campus. Spencer choked back his anger over Director Garcia. Not only was he a corrupt warlock, but he was the creator and principal of the elite Academy.

  Spencer had learned that the BEM had established New Forest Academy to be a safe haven for education. The Academy would be kept Toxite-free while all other schools in America were left unattended and infested. In this way, the BEM could handpick the future leaders of the country while everyone else got dumber from Toxite breath.

  There was a knock at the door. Garcia bent over and spat into the sink. He wiped his mouth on a soft towel and threw it over his shoulder as he pulled open the door. Spencer recognized the man in the doorway as one of the Academy teachers.

  “Sorry to bother you, sir,” the man said. “But you have a visitor.”

  “A visitor?” Director Garcia repeated.

  The messenger swallowed nervously. “It’s . . . it’s Mr. Clean, sir.”

  Garcia took a cautious step back. “Where is he? What’s he doing here?” There was definitely terror in the director’s voice.

  “He’s waiting for you in the underground parking garage. First level.”

  “What does he want?” Garcia asked.

  “He said we should expect more company within the hour.” The man paused. “Pluggers.”

  “Pluggers? Here?” That obviously angered Director Garcia. “I’ve had enough of those overgrown beasts. Why is he bringing them here?”

  “The Academy was the only secure location along the Pluggers’ route. Mr. Clean said the Extension Toxites needed improvements,” the messenger answered. “I believe his exact words were, ‘I’m going to turn those hunting beasts into war machines.’”

  Garcia responded, but the vision was already blanching, Spencer’s concern over the conversation pushed him away. What was Mr. Clean planning to do to Leslie’s Extension Toxites? Spencer couldn’t think about it now. A new vision was taking shape, whiteness fading into black.

  Spencer waited patiently, but nothing came into view. He almost panicked, wondering if his Auran ability had suddenly ended. Then he realized that, despite the blackness, he could still hear, and he had a specific location.

  What he heard was the distinctive sound of a school bell ringing to announce the beginning of a new day. And the location was just where he suspected.

  Spencer pulled his hand away from the bronze medallion, and the cab of the truck shimmered back into view.

  “Walter’s already at Triton Charter School, and I think he’s in trouble,” Spencer blurted.

  “What did you see?” Penny asked.

  Spencer decided not to mention Garcia’s vision yet. Walter was in danger, and they needed to focus on him. “Nothing. I couldn’t see anything, which means that Walter’s eyes were closed—or covered.”
br />   “Maybe he’s sleeping,” Daisy suggested.

  “Definitely not sleeping,” said Spencer. “He’s at Triton Charter School. I heard the first bell ring. Walter’s been captured! And my dad might be with him.”

  “You don’t know that.” Penny was trying to keep him calm.

  “It’s a pattern,” Spencer said. “Every time the BEM knows we’re coming, they replace our Rebel with a bad guy. They do it so fast there’s never enough time to change plans. That’s how Slick got us at New Forest Academy. And that’s what is happening at Triton.”

  “Kid’s got a point,” Bernard said. “And if the BEM knows where we’re headed, then those nasty Pluggers might be waiting for us.”

  Spencer knew the Extension Toxites weren’t at the school. But again, he decided not to mention them. He didn’t want to give anyone a false sense of security. Just because the Pluggers had made a pit stop at New Forest Academy didn’t mean they were giving up the manhunt. In fact, from what Spencer gathered from his vision, Mr. Clean was giving them some kind of upgrade, making the Extension Toxites even more deadly.

  Penny let go of the wheel just long enough to throw her hands up. “So, what are we supposed to do?”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Spencer said. “But I’m going to need to make a phone call.”

  “We’re supposed to be off the grid,” Penny said. “No communication with anyone outside the team.”

  “One call. It’ll be fast.” Spencer put his hands together in pleading. “I’ve got to talk to the president of the Monitors.”

  “I thought you were in charge,” Bernard said.

  Spencer shook his head. “I’m just the one with the answers. The real brain behind the Monitors is another kid. His name is Min Lee. And he’s a genius.”

  Chapter 12

  “It doesn’t really work like that.”

  Triton Charter School was just ahead, the playground covered in a skiff of trampled snow. This was definitely the right location from Spencer’s vision. Walter was somewhere in the building, his eyes still closed.