Van Bender and the Spirit Tether

  An instant later, the door to my bedroom slams.

  Nice, Mom. Real mature.

  I stand there in the dark, my body shaking. If I’d known that being a rock star would be like this, would I have pursued it? That’s a stupid question. I can’t change the past. Neither can Mom, with her magical, appearing-outside-the-yard-suddenly power. I’m a rock star. I’m famous. No changing that.

  But did she have to make it so freaking miserable?

  With the light still off, I head to the corner. I’m not super tall; the cancer stunted my growth. So, to reach the shelves in the closet, I need a stepping stool.

  In a few moments, I’ve retrieved the iPad. It illuminates the room like a flashlight. Somehow, I find the glow comforting. The feel of the glass soothes me.

  Not all is lost.

  On the Facebook app, there’s already a message from Bobby.

  You almost made it.

  We get to work, planning our next effort to meet.

  Moab, Utah. Three weeks later. Day three of our trip.

  * * * *

  Chapter 8: Escape

  It actually took her several minutes to realize Richie was gone. I’ve never seen her so distracted. Either she had the hots for that park ranger, or she was really into the Fiery Furnace.

  -Kurt Strand

  Kurt, Sandra, and I are hiking with Mom in Arches National Park. During the trip, we’ve already seen Delicate Arch, climbed some serious cliffs, and bouldered in several spots. Now, we’re in the Fiery Furnace, led by a park ranger through the maze of vertical rock formations.

  All around us, sandstone fins tower overhead. We tread along rock and sand, winding through the labyrinth of narrow canyons. We squeeze through tight spaces, to find an arch, an overhang, or the light hitting red stone just right, making it glow. I would probably find the place the most amazing location on earth if I weren’t so distracted.

  I’m sweating. Even in the shade of the Fiery Furnace, it’s a million degrees. Kurt complains without end. Sandra must have told him to shut up at least fifty times. Mom walks ahead with the ranger, listening to him yammer on about the delicate crust over much of the ground.

  I’m in the back of the group, waiting for the right moment to break away and “get lost” in the maze. Along with water and food, I have the iPad in my backpack. I’ve marked the rendezvous point with Bobby on a backpacking app. If the GPS still works in this remote location, I should have no trouble finding him.

  Kurt and Sandra know all about my plan. And they’re going to help.

  We stop for lunch under a double arch, and the entire time I wonder if the opportunity to escape will ever come. After we get going again, it does. Mom and the ranger go on ahead, almost as if forgetting we followed. Kurt and Sandra give me the nod, indicating they’ll cover for me as long as they can, and possibly send Mom down the wrong way. They know the location I’m meeting Bobby at, so if I don’t reappear before long, they can come find me.

  In celebration of my impending disobedience, we play air guitars. They wish me luck. I head back the way we came, and the second they’re out of sight, I pull the iPad out and get on with finding Bobby Fretboard.

  I have no data service in the park, but the GPS service still works, and I’d loaded the map that morning while sneaking the iPad in the bathroom. Not that it does me much good. Even zoomed in all the way, it’s just a mess of diagonal lines, circles, and shadows. The spaces between the rocks are too small to make out on the screen.

  But I know the general direction I need to go, and so I wind through the rocks, moving as fast as I can. I turn right here, left there. I scale a rock in one spot, and jump down another. One second the shadows envelop me, and the next sunlight blinds me.

  I keep the iPad out, and my blue dot on the map moves closer and closer toward the purple pin that represents where we’ll meet. It’s right in the heart of the Fiery Furnace.

  Soon, I come around a sandstone fin, and see him.

  In this spot, several fins have broken. They lay on the ground as rubble that weather has worn round with untold years of persistence. The space stretches thirty-feet wide, with an enormous wall rising on each side. On the right, one fin blocks out the sun on the ground. The other fin glows red in the full sun. The air hangs cool and still.

  Bobby stands at the far end, on a pile of rocks, silhouetted against the blue sky.

  We hadn’t set a specific time to meet. We’d figured I would just come when I had the opportunity. Nevertheless, he sees me the second I come into the area, and scrambles down the pile of rocks toward me. We meet in the center of the cove.

  He wears canvas shorts with a million pockets, and a t-shirt with the image of a knee bending backwards. It’s the icon of his band, the Double Joints. His backpack is belted at the waist with rubber hydration tubes poking out the top. A brown cord ties his bleached hair back in a ponytail. I wear my hair the same way sometimes, only my hair is naturally blonde.

  I stand there with weak knees, looking at him, breathing hard. Just enjoying this victory.

  I’ve done it. I’ve met a rock star. The degree of satisfaction surprises me because I’ve never actually succeeded at breaking this particular rule. And man, it feels good—even if I am tired. I’ve felt that way a lot, lately. Sure, I’ve jogged through a maze of rough terrain, but I shouldn’t feel this tired. It’s probably just that I haven’t slept much lately. Sometimes I have to tell myself that usually being tired is just being tired. It’s not cancer.

  “I suspect,” Bobby says, “we don’t have much time.”

  I try to agree. But to my surprise, I only manage a croak. I’m not thirsty. My mouth and throat aren’t dry. But words simply fail me.

  I mean, this is Bobby Fretboard. A huge rock star. I’m flabbergasted. Astounded. In awe of his awesomeness.

  I try to speak again. Only gibberish comes out.

  He raises an eyebrow.

  “Well, okay,” he says. “Let’s get right to it. I want to show you why your mom is paranoid. It’s time you see what she’s been hiding from you.”

  * * * *

  Chapter 9: Welcome to the big bad world of magic

  It’s always a pleasure to introduce someone to brink. It’s fun to watch their reaction to the impossible.

  -Bobby Fretboard

  I try to speak again. Mush comes out of my mouth. My tongue feels as big as a banana, and about as articulate. I’m in too much awe of Bobby.

  He, however, has a careful voice, like he’s afraid excessive talking will ruin it. “There’s an entire world hidden from you, Richie. It’s hidden from everyone, but I need to show it to you, so you’ll better understand the things that are to come.”

  I stand there, catching my breath, not jabbering.

  He reaches into one of the enormous pockets of his shorts, and pulls out a bottle of lip gloss—a cylinder with a screw-on lid, about the size of ten stacked quarters.

  Except it glows. If we were standing in direct sunlight, I probably wouldn’t have noticed the faint illumination, but we’re not, and a blue light surrounds the little vial.

  He unscrews the lid. The smell of cinnamon hits me as sapphire light lifts from the container. He tilts it so I can see inside. An azure substance. Luminous. Sparkling. It tinkles like the sound of distant, tiny, silver bells.

  “This,” he says, “is brink.”

  All of Mom’s warnings come back to me. I should probably leave. But I don’t. Meeting a rock star feels too good. I don’t care what the danger is. I’m going to see what Bobby came to show me.

  He tilts the bottle over one hand. A glob of the substance oozes onto his palm. The smell of cinnamon and the tinkling of bells grow stronger.

  I still can’t manage to speak. At least, I don’t dare to. I also resist the urge to run. Bobby is weirder than I’d anticipated, yet what he’s showing me holds me captive.

  Bobby closes his fist around the brink, and puts its container in his pocket.

  Then, he
draws in the air.

  He raises his hand to the space between us, opens his palm, and moves it in a practiced manner. Where the brink passes, it smears through the air in a line about the width of a finger. It just hangs there, glowing and sparkling blue, as if clinging to glass.

  I feel like my eyes will pop out of their sockets, but other than that I probably take this freaky show pretty well. It’s like I’ve seen it before.

  He draws an eye with an iris.

  “Now, hold still. This won’t hurt. I promise.”

  If I’m ever going to run, now is the time. Because whenever someone tells you something isn’t going to hurt, you can bet it probably will. But I stay. I’m going to see this through.

  From the eye, he extends a line straight toward me, right at my forehead. I expect the brink to feel hot against my skin. But it’s not. It’s cold and tingly. I stand frozen as he moves his hand in a circular motion on my forehead, then pulls away, his fist closed.

  The brink prickles against my skin. I adjust my stance a little, and the line between the eye and my forehead stretches. The smell is so strong I can’t help but want a cinnamon roll.

  “What are you doing?” I manage to ask.

  He wipes the excess brink on his pants, and with the other hand grabs a fluorescent green lighter out of another pocket. He raises the lighter to the painted eye, and gives me a solemn look.

  “I’m opening your eyes.”

  I’m not so sure I want him to, but he moves too fast for me to say it.

  He flicks the lighter’s wheel. Orange flame jumps up, touching the brink eye in one corner.

  It catches fire.

  Blue flames spread around the eye in both directions, taking one second to envelop the entire shape. The cinnamon smell becomes burnt. The moment the fire touches the line extending toward me, the line also ignites. The fire moves down the line toward my face.

  Holy freaking crap! He’s going to burn my face off!

  I step back, nearly stumbling on the uneven rocks. The line of brink connecting the eye to my head stretches.

  “What the—”

  “It won’t hurt,” he says.

  Before the fire reaches my face, I reach up with my free hand—I still have the iPad in the other—to wipe the brink away. But the moment my hand touches the azure line, a jolt of electricity shoots down my fingers, into my wrist. I make a garbled noise, like someone being electrocuted.

  The fire reaches my face, and I brace myself for burning.

  It doesn’t hurt. It’s warm, yes. But it doesn’t scorch me.

  “Close your eyes,” Bobby says.

  “What?”

  “Hurry!”

  The brink transforms from blue flames back to sapphire light far brighter than before. That, more than Bobby’s instructions, makes me close my eyes.

  And not a moment too soon.

  * * * *

  Chapter 10: Among the stone titans

  I like to show the cool things first. That way, people aren’t scared off by the frightening things.

  -Bobby Fretboard

  I have my eyes shut, but I can see from the eye Bobby painted on my forehead.

  The blue light has transformed into ashes that float down to the rocks at my feet. Everything else has changed, as well. The sunlight on the stone fin shines far brighter—like it has caught fire. But the shadows have grown darker—almost too dark to see into. It’s like someone turned the contrast way up. What’s more, everything around me has sharp edges. The sandstone fins above me. The rocks all around. It’s like millennia of weathering has reversed.

  “Richie,” Bobby says. “You’re looking at the spirit world. It surrounds and encompasses us.”

  I turn in a slow circle. I’ve never seen such a blue sky.

  “The spirit world is there all the time,” Bobby says. “And it’s filled with creatures. Look at the walls.”

  I peer at the fin bathed in sunlight. Other than the pinched edges, I see no difference.

  “I don’t see—”

  “Look harder.”

  I focus on the rock with this strange vision. I furrow my eyebrows and squint, even though my eyes are still closed.

  There.

  Deep in the rock and all along its surface. Something shifts. Something pulses and moves, breathes and lives inside the rock. It has a thin body like a cat’s, except without the fur, and a long neck. It looks like rock, but it isn’t the sandstone. It occupies the same space as the rock.

  I gasp. “What is that?”

  “That is a stone titan. It gives the rock life, just like your soul gives your body life.”

  As if sensing someone talking about it, the creature moves. It has four legs. Many bones ridge its spine. It stretches long and tall, up almost to the top of the rock. And there, at the top, a long head almost like a horse’s. A snout. And eyes, staring down at me.

  Cold eyes. Black. Not glossy. Dull. Ancient. And downright freaky.

  The gaze startles me. I cry out and step back. My heel catches on something. I fall straight down, throwing my hands out to catch myself—a mistake. My iPad flies away from me as I hit the ground. The tablet clatters away on the rocks, metal and glass scraping on stone. I think I hear a shattering, but can’t look. My attention is pulled elsewhere.

  Because as I fall, I open my eyes.

  My vision shifts. It distorts as I simultaneously see everything with spirit vision and with my natural eyes. My brain can’t process the new information, and I become dizzy. My stomach starts the familiar routine of doing flips, as if from motion sickness.

  Bobby stands above me, face solemn. It’s the first time since the he cast the spell that I really look at him. He has a glowing black eye on his forehead.

  I point to it. “Is that what’s on my forehead?”

  He nods.

  Above and around him, the spirit world lays over the regular world. The stones are pinched and sharp, but they also aren’t. The stone titan stands in the rocks—and now that I look around, I see other stone titans in the sandstone fins all around me. One of them shifts inside its fin, and groans. The sound rumbles in my chest.

  My head feels like it will explode.

  “Holy crap,” I say. “What is this stuff?”

  “Richie, you can do so much with brink. We’ve only been here for two minutes, and I’ve shown you just one thing. With the right spells, you can control the stone titans. You can travel the world in an instant. The possibilities are endless.”

  “Why are you showing me this?”

  “There’s an entire other world, Richie—and not just this unseen one. There’s an entire society of musicians and rock stars that use this power. You should be a part of it.”

  Despite my confusion—despite my fear at what is happening, I want this incredible world with mind-bending powers far more than I’d wanted to meet Bobby. More than I ever wanted a concert, or to win that award.

  This is what Mom has kept me from.

  I wouldn’t have believed it’s real if someone had merely told me about it, but I can’t deny what I’m seeing with my own eyes. Physical and spiritual.

  I want to tell Mom what I’ve learned, let her know just how angry it makes me that she’s hidden this from me.

  “How can I be a part of it?” I say. I still haven’t bothered to stand.

  “You need to hold a concert.”

  To ease my reeling mind, I close my physical eyes. The world becomes high-contrast again. The stone titans become more visible. They look down at us with dull black eyes, but don’t otherwise seem to care that we’re invading their domain.

  “What does a concert have to do with it?” I ask.

  “Everything,” Bobby says. “Concerts have power, Richie. They generate the resources to create the brink. And you’ll need help harnessing that power.”

  “You’ll help me?”

  “Not me. My boss. Nick Savage.”

  Nick Savage.

  One of the most famous rock star
s on the planet, with enormous hit albums and singles in the last three decades. Rumor has it he owns the best collection of classic guitars it the world. Plus, he always wears his hair in the most outrageous spikes imaginable. Blue. Red. Orange. He uses those spikes as weapons in his videos.

  Bobby’s voice is soft. So quiet I almost can’t hear it. “If you can hold a concert, Nick will come to you. He’ll give you what you need in order to harness the power.”

  “How am I supposed to talk my mom into that?”

  Even though I want it, even though I know it’s real, it’s just so much so quickly. I look around, feeling different than only a few moments before—a little freaked out and excited all at the same time. It would have been nice if someone had told me about this spirit world before showing it to me. Maybe Mom should have told me, because there’s no going back now that I know.

  “I can’t explain everything right now,” Bobby says. “We’ve been here too long already.”

  “Not even five minutes.”

  “Too long. You need to get back to the others. Just tell them you got lost. Don’t tell anyone about this.”

  “No kidding. I’m not an idiot.”

  “I’ll be in touch via Facebook.”

  I remember the iPad. It’s resting in a crevice five feet away—out of reach, screen away from me. I can’t tell if it’s broken or not. I wish I’d thought to ask Sandra and Kurt for some kind of protective case.

  Bobby has brink out again, and pours it into his hand. I scramble over to the rocks toward the iPad. It’s cold in my hand as I turn it around to look at the front.

  The screen is shattered.

  I feel sick.

  My connection to the world is broken. I’m going to have to secure another one, somehow. It’s a miracle that I got this one and have kept it for so long. How can I possibly get another? I can’t just order a new one and hope it gets delivered when Mom’s not around.

  Hoping it’s not as bad as it seems, I press the power button. Fortunately, it turns on, presenting me with the picture I’d set as my wallpaper: Nick Savage on stage, shredding on his guitar.

  Bobby steps over and holds a hand out to help me up.

  “I’m going to get rid of that third eye,” he says. “Then you’ll be on your way. And I’ll be in touch.”