Island of Fire

Henry nodded. They each gripped components in their hands.

“Here we go,” Alex said. He pushed the button with his elbow and the two boys disappeared.

In a blink, they were cast into darkness that didn’t lighten again.

“Where are we?” Alex whispered after a time.

“Inside a closet. The door’s closed.”

“Oh.” Alex reached outside the tube and felt the door, moving his hand across it to get his bearings, trying to find a handle, but there was none. A line of light ran across the bottom and up the center of the closet, indicating there was a double door. “Which direction is the hallway?” he whispered.

“Straight ahead about ten or twelve feet.”

“Okay.” Alex took a deep breath. “Components ready?”

“Yeah.”

Alex pushed on the door. It didn’t budge. He pushed again with both hands this time, and then with his shoulder, hard. Still nothing. He frowned in the dark. “It’s stuck.” He ran his hand up and pricked his finger on a nail, but he didn’t make a sound. He found several more nail points along the top edge. He almost told Henry that it was nailed shut, but then he thought about it and decided Henry didn’t need to know that right now. “We’re going to have to make noise. No voices, though, okay? Just pounding. We want them to think it’s your dad. On the count of four.”

“Okay.”

Alex counted off, and they both began pounding on the door, though not too hard, since Haluki was weak. Nothing happened. Alex hoped the captors hadn’t discovered that Haluki was gone already. Maybe that was why the door was nailed shut.

“Again,” Alex whispered, and they pounded once more. This time they were rewarded with footsteps.

“Knock it off!” said a woman. She sounded grumpy. Alex started knocking again, too afraid to cue Henry this time.

“All right,” the woman muttered. “Liam, bring the crowbar. We’ll do Haluki’s break now. He’s . . . noisy.” Her words trailed off, her voice weary.

A few minutes later, Alex and Henry could hear the crack and squeak of nails being pulled through wood. Alex squeezed Henry’s shoulder and bent down to whisper in his ear when the noise continued. “You take the right side, I’ve got the left. Spells ready?”

Henry nodded.

When the door swung open, the two boys jumped out, yelling, “Attack left!” and “Attack right!” to their origami dragons, and while they squinted to get their pupils used to the bright light, the fire-breathing dragons nearly scared the two guards to death. It was long enough to keep them distracted while Alex and Henry focused and aimed highlighters at the two. Both found their mark, blinding the shrieking guards.

Before the Quillans understood what was happening, Alex and Henry grabbed scatterclips and fired them, sticking the guards to the walls by their clothing, and pelted the two with the clay bits, shackling them. Finally, Alex uttered a silence soliloquy, and their work was done. Alex inspected their handiwork as the two struggled. Finally Alex nodded at Henry. “Lead the way,” he said. “Be ready to attack.”

Henry set off, trying very hard not to chatter on about the house or stop to show Alex the bedroom that had been his when he lived there, though he was tempted. He peered around the corner into the kitchen. Seeing no one, he continued to the pantry, Alex at his heels.

“Guard me,” Alex said. Henry stood ready with his components, turning this way and that at the slightest imagined noise. Alex reached out for the pantry door and turned the knob.

The First Rescue

Whenever Claire Morning heard the voices of Liam and Bethesda in conversation, it reminded her that she was still alive, and that maybe someday, if she could just get her strength back, she’d be able to break out of here. She didn’t

blame anyone for not coming to find her—how could they possibly know where she was? And she could only imagine what the Artiméans were dealing with . . . if any of them were still alive. For all she knew, Aaron could have killed them all.

The voices Claire was hearing now seemed different. There was some sort of ruckus going on, she could tell, and she hoped something horrible hadn’t happened to Gunnar. But she could barely lift her head to rouse herself completely. Whatever was happening, it would happen without her.

Or so she thought until the pantry door swung open, blinding her with light. She turned her face toward the towering shadow, but she couldn’t focus. And with the gag in her mouth, she couldn’t speak.

The figure gasped. “Ms. Morning,” he said, which puzzled her. Liam had always called her Claire.

Soon her gag was off her numb wrists and ankles untied, and the figure lifted her to her feet. “Can you stand?” he whispered.

Claire nodded, but her legs buckled.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” the figure said, and he hoisted her off the ground, over his shoulder.

Claire opened her eyes a slit, letting the painful light in.

“It’s Alex,” the figure said. “And Henry Haluki. We came to take you home.”

Relief flooded through Claire’s weak body, and she closed her eyes again as Alex directed Henry to lead the way.

“Give the guards another dose from the highlighters and silence spells. All three of us can’t fit inside the tube at once, so you go first to let Simber know we’re coming,” Alex said to Henry, who did exactly as he was told.

When Henry was gone, Alex turned to the shackled, blind Liam and Bethesda, and said in a measured voice, “I’m sure someone will come along eventually for you. But even if they don’t, you won’t suffer any worse than what you’ve put these people through.” He maneuvered his way into the tube, careful not to bump Claire’s head against the glass as he squeezed into the space with her, and gave the guards one last hard look. In the voice of a man, he spoke with a measured tone. “If you ever dare show your faces in Artimé, I will not be so kind as to allow you to leave it alive.”