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  “THE WICKED WILL BE CAST INTO HELL!”

  Something hit him on top of his head hard enough to set sparks flashing in his eyes.

  Furious, Dex looked up from the floor to find Pastor Jons looming over him with a Bible held up over his head and a transported look on his perspiring face. He’d hit Dex with his Bible, a hardback. Dex tried to get up, but it was difficult with legs and knees crashing into him from every which way.

  “YOUR SOUL WILL KINDLE AND FLAME OUT INTO HELLFIRE!”

  The book cracked his skull again.

  “Stop that!” Dex demanded, which earned him another whack, this time on the side of his head.

  Pastor or not, Dex was going to fight back. He got to his feet and shoved Jons as hard as he could, sending him and his trembling jowls toppling over into the frothing crowd.

  “Assault!” Jons wailed from the floor. Then it sounded like he screamed, “Jason!”

  “It’s Dexter!” Dex shouted. “Dexter Wax! Get it right! Dexter Wax!” He turned back to fight the crowd, but nearly fell again. There was a body on the floor right under him, someone in the fetal position, rocking back and forth. It was a girl, and she was pretty much wrapped around his leg.

  Dex was starting to tear his foot free when he registered all that white-blonde hair.

  “YOU WILL BURN FOR ALL OF ETERNITY FOR YOUR SINS!” the pastor bellowed from wherever he was on the floor. He was invisible now, swallowed by the riot, but his voice was indomitable. “YOU! WILL! BURN!”

  Dex made another attempt to free his foot, but an eye opened to him from over an arm in the midst of all that hair, an eye so full of fear that it pierced him. It pierced him so powerfully that he suddenly felt as if he were alone with it. Dex had never encountered fear like this before, not even in his own heart, not even after all he’d been through.

  Something compelled him to kneel down next to the girl. Maybe she was hurt. She was muttering something, though he couldn’t tell what. He put a hand on her back and shook her a bit.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, helping her sit up. She didn’t resist at all. He was quite sure she didn’t even know where she was.

  “Are—are you okay?” Dex asked again, louder this time. “Do you need help?”

  “THE LAKE OF FIRE!” thundered Jons’ disembodied voice.

  The girl’s lips stopped moving, and she seemed to register Dexter, however weakly.

  “I can help you,” Dex promised. He had no idea why he had to do this, but he did. He absolutely did. “Come with me,” he urged, helping her to her feet.

  “THE LAKE OF FIRE!”

  “What’s your name?” Dex shouted, pulling the girl into the moving crowd.

  “Nora,” she whimpered. “I don’t want to go to Hell.”

  Jons’ voice was fading now, but they could still make it out. “BURN! YOU WILL BUUUURN!”

  Dex straight-armed a boy coming right at them, knocking him aside. “Why would you go to hell?”

  “Jesus!” Nora yelped as she stumbled forward, her eyes glazed over. “Please take me! I want to go to Heaven!”

  A wicked clap of thunder cracked outside, setting off screams all around, but Dex scarcely noticed them. Finally, everyone was heading for the exits.

  “Funny you should say that!” Dex said, leaning into Nora’s ear while getting them moving again, aiming for the door.

  “What?” she cried, focusing on Dexter for the first time. “Why?”

  “Because if Jesus won’t do the job, I might be able to take you there myself!”

  They’d reached the door at last, but now Nora stopped. “What?” she said. “Are you mocking me?”

  For a moment, Dex scanned the mob scene outside for Daphna. How could he have forgotten about her in all this madness? But he looked at Nora again and said, as seriously as he knew how, “I’m Dexter Wax. My sister and I have been to Heaven—and I promise you that pretty soon we’ll be going back.”

  CHAPTER 9

  this is for real

  “What’s happening?” Daphna asked. She was still not processing thoughts clearly. Had she just been kissed for the first time in her life? It felt like the world had dematerialized around her, leaving her floating in some blissful alternate dimension.

  “Quiet! All of you!”

  Reality was coming back, but in fits and starts.

  “Duck and cover!” Mr. Guillermo ordered. “This is for REAL!”

  “What?” Daphna gasped.

  The alarm went off again. Everyone was on their feet, crying out, ignoring Mr. G completely. When the building finally stopped shaking, one shout rose up, cutting through the clamor, Branwen’s. “It’s her! She’s doing this! She’s a witch!”

  Super, Daphna thought.

  But before anyone could react to this, the crashing and smashing commenced in the halls. Someone threw open the door to see what was happening, then ran out. Mr. Guillermo tried to block the exit to prevent others from following, but when he reached it, whatever was happening out there evidently demanded his immediate attention, because he rushed out as well, ordering someone, or everyone, to cease and desist immediately. A stampede followed him out.

  Daphna, standing at her desk, finally back on Planet Earth, watched these developments with dread twisting in her gut. This was all wrong. Everything was all wrong. She had to get out of there. She moved toward the door but stopped when she heard Quinn yell, “Watch out!”

  Before Daphna could react to hearing that phrase for the third time that morning, she was hit flush in the face with a stinging spray of billowing white gas. She suddenly couldn’t breathe, and her face went simultaneously icy cold and burning. All she could do was fall to the floor, choking and gasping.

  Quinn called Daphna’s name, but then there was the whoosh of spraying again, followed by the sound of Quinn falling to the floor, groaning and gasping himself.

  Writhing in pain, Daphna tried to rub the freezing fire out of her eyes, but that only seemed to make it worse.

  “This is all your fault!” someone screamed. Daphna forced an eye open. Through pouring tears and a haze of lingering white smoke, she saw a face: Wren’s. She was holding a fire extinguisher up over her head.

  She’s going to kill me, was all Daphna could think. After everything I’ve been through, a Pop is going to kill me. And she produced something like a laugh.

  “Teal was the one person on this Earth who knew what I live through with my sister,” Wren sobbed. “She was the only thing that kept me going.”

  Daphna closed her eyes again and curled up in a ball with her arms over her head. Please, she prayed, please let me go to my mothers.

  No! She hadn’t made things right yet!

  “You took her from me!” Wren wailed. “And now I’m going to—!”

  Daphna rolled blindly away.

  There was a ringing clang when the extinguisher hit the floor and released another blast of chemical fog. The canister rolled against Daphna’s leg.

  Wren missed!

  Daphna opened her eyes, which weren’t burning quite so much now. Through the misty tendrils of spray wending up and around desk and chair legs, she saw—no one.

  Wren was gone.

  A movement across the room attracted Daphna’s attention. Quinn was on the floor, too, with his tear-stained face pressed to—a book? His yellow textbook?

  Quinn—he’d kissed her! But—

  “What—what happened?” Daphna asked, getting slowly to all fours, then to her feet. She couldn’t see much more than blurs, but Wren was definitely no longer in the room. No one else was. “What are you doing?”

  Quinn was back on his feet now, too. His sunglasses lay broken on the floor. It was that book with the yellow cover.

  “What is that!” Daphna demanded, trying to get her vision to clear, but a sound at the door made her spin round. It was Branwen. Daphna now heard the raging that accompanied the continued sounds of destruction from the hall.

  “Wren?” Branwen demanded. “Where
’s Wren!” Seeing her friend was not there, she turned and beckoned someone. A moment later a group of boys, half of whom were bleeding from one place or another, came storming into the room. “Wren never came out!” she shrieked. “That witch did something to Wren!”

  Daphna backed up and bumped into Quinn, who seemed to be fumbling with his book again. His eyes were red and swollen. It was clear he was having trouble seeing whatever he was looking for. A boy at the front of the group started kicking aside the desks that blocked the way to the posse’s prey.

  “Can’t see!” Quinn cried.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Can’t see! I just need a second! I just need a second!”

  But there was no second. Daphna leapt to snatch up the fire extinguisher. With no hesitation, though with poor aim, she sprayed it at the three boys who were nearly upon them. They all fell to the floor, wailing with their fists in their eyes. Branwen ran.

  “Sorry!” Quinn shouted, finally looking away from the book. “I guess it was your turn! Follow me!” he added, heading for the door directly enough. Daphna ran behind him.

  Why did he kiss her?

  It was bedlam in the halls. Hundreds of students were throwing themselves at one another, swinging backpacks like maces or hurling heavy textbooks like grenades. At least one other person had sprayed another fire extinguisher at the far end. It sounded like that pastor was somewhere, shouting about the devil. Quinn put his shoulder down and simply charged into the mass of bodies like a running back. Daphna followed closely behind, calling out for her brother.

  How could she have forgotten about her brother?

  “Dex! Dex!”

  Quinn managed to find a stream in the melee moving toward the exits.

  “Dex!” Daphna cried again, craning her neck to scan the crowd as she moved through it. Eventually, they forced their way out through the front doors.

  The rioting outside was just as bad. Students were on cars in the smaller front lot, stomping hoods and spider-webbing windshields. The fence surrounding the pool was down, and kids were running up and down the dry slides. Daphna could hardly believe what she was seeing—many of these hooligans were mild-mannered and studious! Some kids were trying to get away on bikes or scooters, but no sooner was someone on one, she was knocked off. One bike was wrapped around a light pole.

  Teachers were trying to get everyone to evacuation spots, but it was futile, and in fact a number of them seemed to be arguing with one another about just that. There was a shattering clap of thunder followed by that insane lightning spreading over the sky. The ground shook violently for a moment causing hundreds of bodies to fall. Everyone screamed.

  “Dex!” Daphna wailed, back on her feet after a tumble. It was like being in Turkey all over again! When would it end! And it was really hot, much hotter than it had been on their way to school. “Dex! Where are you? Dex!”

  “There!” Quinn called out from his knees. He was pointing toward the street.

  Daphna followed his finger, but there were so many people between her and—but, yes! She saw him! Dexter was in the crowd with a girl—was that the girl from the auditorium? He was leading her through the shifting maze of bodies. They stopped at the large tree by the sidewalk and looked back toward the school. Surely he was looking for her, Daphna thought.

  “Who is that girl?” Daphna asked, irrationally but undeniably hating her. But then she turned to Quinn and said, “Wait, you know my broth—?”

  “Oh, no,” Quinn gasped, but not in answer to her question. He was looking past Dexter now. Then he was suddenly, desperately, looking down into his book again. His hands were shaking so hard he could hardly hold it.

  “Oh, God,” Daphna gasped when she saw.

  Crouching behind one of the parked cars across the street was a man in running clothes holding a handgun. He was using the hood to steady his arm as he aimed.

  At Dex.

  CHAPTER 10

  disappearing acts

  Daphna sprinted, screaming her brother’s name, but her voice was swallowed by the general uproar. She knew the man was waiting for a clear shot through the bodies running past the tree. Crashing through knots of hair-pulling grapplers, she shoved aside anyone and everyone in her path. When she was about ten yards away, Dex finally spotted her. When he saw her face, he blanched.

  “Get down!” Daphna screamed. Then she threw herself at him for the second time that morning. She flew into both Dexter and the girl, who seemed to be just standing there in a stupor. All three of them hit the tree and fell to the ground. “Gun!” Daphna choked.

  “It’s okay,” someone said a few dizzied moments later. Quinn. He was there, too, but on his feet. Daphna looked up, then desperately over at the shooter.

  Who was gone.

  Hiding? There was something sitting on the hood of the car.

  The gun.

  “He’s back there!” Dex cried, comprehending now that he’d have been killed earlier if not for that busybody on her porch. “Stay down!”

  But Daphna was pretty sure the man wasn’t there anymore. Despite her massive relief, her suspicions suddenly spilled over. After extricating herself from the tangle of limbs she was in, she got up, planning to run over to the car, but a group of boys—scary looking boys—were there now. One of them did some kind of karate kick on the driver’s side mirror, which cracked and dangled like a broken arm. A skinny bald boy had the gun now. He immediately shoved it into his pants under his shirt. Had they chased the man away?

  No—

  Daphna spun back round. She honed in on Quinn, who was still holding that book.

  “Show it to me,” she ordered. “Now.”

  “It’s okay,” Quinn said. “Things will be fine. They’ll turn out just—”

  “We need to get out of here,” Dexter interrupted, now on his feet. He helped Nora up. She was trembling so hard he feared she was going to faint.

  Daphna ignored her brother, and the girl, whoever she was. “Give me that book,” she said to Quinn again.

  Reluctantly, Quinn handed it over.

  It was pretty substantial. Daphna peeked under the elastic. The cover was black and considerably weathered. It was clearly old, very old. She opened it.

  “Daphna,” Dex said, wondering who this jerk was with the textbook on the first day of school. Another nerd she’d bonded with already? “We need to get out of here,” he insisted, but then he saw Daphna’s eyes as they peered at the pages she was looking at.

  Another goddamn Book.

  What Daphna saw made her think immediately of The Book of Nonsense. The miniscule words covering the pages seemed to be moving, or changing—no, not changing, fading in and out—no, not that either. They were actually rising and sinking like welts on the thick, rippled pages, and that reminded her of The Book of Maps. Whatever this was, it was connected to everything they knew. That much was obvious. Even Dexter wouldn’t deny this, if he would bother trying to look at it. Were they names? When would this all end!

  Daphna looked up at Quinn. “What’s in your other hand?” she demanded.

  Quinn gave over the object he was clutching. It was a rock of some sort, curved like the tip of a primitive tool.

  Daphna turned it over in her hand, thinking hard. Things seemed about to become clear to her—some things—but before her thoughts could crystallize, Quinn said, “Oh, no,” again. But then he grabbed the book and rock back from Daphna and told everyone, “Don’t worry. I’ll handle this.”

  Branwen and her group of black-and-blued boys had suddenly appeared, and they moved as if they had a plan, fanning out around the tree. Daphna and Nora backed up against the trunk. Quinn and Dex stayed were they were.

  For a moment Dex thought he was back in Gabriel Park, in another time—in another body. But seeing this fool standing there acting tough, butting into business he couldn’t possibly even begin to understand, snapped him out of it. “Back off,” he said out of the side of his mouth. “This is beyond you. Trust
me.”

  “I got this,” Quinn repeated. “It’s just like Thermopylae, when the Spartans were massively outnumbered against the—”

  “I said back off!”

  A portion of the nearby mob seemed to sense something special going on. When they saw the twins, a bloodthirsty cry went up. Someone shouted, “They’ve got the plague! Wipe them out!”

  Nora clutched Daphna’s arm, but Daphna shook her off. Who was this leech?

  Branwen stepped toward Dex with some kind of trophy in her hand, a tall gold-plated cup. One strap of her dress was ripped.

  “Where is Wren!” she screamed. She was out of her mind. Dexter saw this plainly in her eyes. But then he saw something even more disturbing in them. It was like the First Tongue was in effect, hypnotizing her—but something much more malevolent. Whatever it was, he saw it in all the kids’ eyes.

  Was it in his?

  “We’re not afraid of you,” Quinn announced, opening his book. “I’m warning you,” he added. “I’m warning all of you!”

  Incensed, Dex knocked the book out of Quinn’s hands.

  “Hey!”

  Branwen reared back with the trophy and came at Dex with it.

  Bang! A shot rang out.

  Bodies hit the deck all around.

  Moments later, both the crowd and Branwen’s gang were running away, everyone but Branwen, who remained standing there with the trophy still raised up over her head. It was obvious why. Someone was there now, next to her, someone with a gun—the bald boy. He had the point of it pressed against her cheek.

  She turned to him slowly and unleashed the full wattage of her electric smile. The boy, stunned for a moment, shook his head, lowered the gun, and said, “Ah, get outta here.”

  Branwen walked slowly off, dignity evidently intact.

  “Antin?” Dex said. He’d shaved his head, but it was definitely him.

  Antin didn’t answer, but he did nod slightly. Did he remember Dex having used Words of Power to try to straighten him out, too? Was this his way of saying thank you even though it hadn’t lasted?