The Second Siege (4 page)

“What’s that?” asked Cynthia, hovering close to peer at the book’s unmarked cover.

“
That,
Cynthia my dear, is how we’re going to keep Max and David’s secret safe!” crowed Connor, untying the felt bag’s drawstring and spilling six small stones onto the table. “It’s also why I had my best summer ever—don’t know how I ever got along without it!”

“What’s it do?” asked Max, pulling his seat closer.

“What
doesn’t
it do is the real question,” cackled Connor, arranging the stones in a rough circle. Each of the stones had a slightly different shape and color, and Connor appeared very particular about which went where. “This one’s the best by far,” he said eagerly, motioning them closer as he opened the book and thumbed through several pages.

The stones began to glow, flickering to life as reluctantly as an old lightbulb. There was the distant sound of a clock chime and a sudden flash of light. A moment later, Max found himself blinking at an elfin creature no taller than a candle.

The tiny being stood within the circle of stones, dressed neatly in a banker’s suit and radiating an air of polite reserve. It had curling silver hair, bluish skin, an imposing Roman nose, and the attentive yellow eyes of a cat. Pivoting on a well-polished shoe, it took a long look at each of them. When its gaze reached Connor, the creature bowed low and spoke in a voice as smooth and flowing as a ribbon of silk.

“With proper stones and incantations Master Lynch does call and Mr. Sikes does answer. What ails the young gentleman? How may Mr. Sikes be of service?”

Max peered closer as the little figure held its pose like an obedient doll. Glancing at David, Max saw his roommate lean back, his expression wary.

“Nice to see you, Mr. Sikes,” said Connor conversationally. “I’ve got a little favor to ask, but first I’d like you to meet my friends and, er, maybe whip up a round of lemonades?”

“Mr. Sikes is pleased to meet the master’s friends,” said the creature, clasping its hands and bowing low to Cynthia, who nodded back in slack-jawed astonishment. “Iced lemonades may be found before you.”

Max looked down and saw a tall glass of lemonade resting on a coaster at his right hand.

“Bottoms up!” said Connor, raising his glass in a cheerful toast.

“Stop!” exclaimed David, reaching for Connor’s hand and almost knocking the glass onto the table. “Nobody touch those drinks.”

“Easy, Davie,” said Connor. “It’s all right! Mr. Sikes has brought me loads of lemonades before, isn’t that right?”

“The master does enjoy his lemonade,” said the little being, smoothing his pocket square.

David ignored Connor and looked skeptically at the creature.

“Who are you, Mr. Sikes?” asked David, his voice quiet and serious.

“I am the summoned servant of Master Lynch,” said the creature simply.

“
What
are you, Mr. Sikes?” asked Max.

“Max,” said Connor, shooting an angry glance, “don’t be rude!”

“Mr. Sikes takes no offense,” said the creature smoothly. “Mr. Sikes is but a humble imp and begs pardon if he has insulted Master Lynch’s friend.”

“See?” said Connor. “He’s an imp. Happy, Max?”

Max shrugged, but David clucked his tongue impatiently and looked at Connor.

“Do you know what an imp is?” he asked.

“Mr. Sikes knows,” said David calmly, using his finger to trace a faintly shimmering circle of light around the stones. “This circle will ensure Mr. Sikes stays right where he is. An imp is a
demon,
Connor.”

Connor scoffed in disbelief and looked to Max and the girls for support. Mr. Sikes smiled and shrugged apologetically.

“The young man speaks the truth, I’m sorry to say. Technically, imps
are
demons.”

“Really?” asked Connor, wrinkling his nose and leaning close to peer at Mr. Sikes, who bore the inspection with a patient smile.

“Yes, it’s true,” said Mr. Sikes, “but I have to differ with the young gentleman, who seems to believe I pose some sort of danger. There are many kinds of demons, my friends, and we are just as varied in our types and temperaments as humans. Do monstrous and horrible demons exist? Of course. Are there also monstrous and horrible humans? I daresay yes again. Would you recoil from a garden lizard simply because its distant cousin is the crocodile? Some demons exist to destroy; Mr. Sikes exists to serve.”

“Those are good points,” said Connor, nodding. “Davie, even you have to admit that those are some very good points the little guy’s making.”

David nodded, but his frown remained.

“Is that your only shape?” asked David.

“I beg pardon?” asked the imp.

“Can the harmless lizard
become
a crocodile? I’ve read that imps are shape-shifters.”

“Of course I can take alternative forms,” said Mr. Sikes, “but I hardly think the two available to me are cause for alarm.”

“What are they?” asked Lucia, scooting forward with interest.

Mr. Sikes smiled at her and cleared his throat.

“For my first act, I give you . . . the terrifying field mouse!”

With a snap of his fingers, there was an audible pop and Mr. Sikes disappeared, replaced by a gray mouse with a pink tail that poked its nose along the edges of David’s glowing perimeter. The mouse stood on its hind legs to look at them, its whiskers aquiver. A moment later there was another pop and the mouse was transformed into a small gypsy moth, hovering on a pair of tiny wings. The moth fluttered up, rising in tight little spirals.

Zbbbt!

A sudden jolt of blue electricity zapped the moth, making Max jump. The moth fell like a stone to writhe on the tabletop.

“Oh!” cried Cynthia. “He’s hurt!”

“He hit the barrier,” said David, folding his arms. “That’s why it’s there.”

“That’s uncalled for, David,” fumed Connor. “He’d better be okay.”

Max saw Lucia glare at David; even Sarah shot David a glance before returning to the moth with a concerned expression. Reduced to one functioning wing, the moth now fluttered about in a shaky little circle. Max watched the moth carefully; Mr. Sikes seemed very clever and Max knew it might just be a ploy to gain their sympathy. Still, he had to admit that the tip of its wing was badly singed and the moth’s flutters seemed sporadic and distressed.

Pop!

Mr. Sikes reappeared, his face contorted in anguish as he clutched his arm. Against his better judgment, Max felt a pang of compassion for the small creature.

“I’m so sorry,” cried Lucia.

“Are you hurt?” asked Sarah, reaching her hand out to the little imp. Mr. Sikes reached out his left arm to take her hand, but then he glanced at the nearby barrier and recoiled.

“I’ll be all right,” he gasped through gritted teeth. “It was my fault to begin with. The young master drew a circle for all to see.” The imp gave a sheepish smile. “I’m afraid I was showing off and got my comeuppance. I’ll be all right—don’t worry about me.”

David rolled his eyes.

“What’s that for?” asked Connor, his eyes flashing. “Are you saying you
didn’t
hurt him?”

“No,” said David quietly. “I’m saying I think you should say good-bye to Mr. Sikes, scatter those stones, and burn that book.”

Connor looked in disbelief at David and gave a short laugh.

“You’re kidding, right?” he said. “Didn’t you steal a forbidden grimoire last year—one that even Ms. Richter won’t touch?”

David paused a moment before nodding.

“And,” continued Connor, “don’t you go wandering around the campus at all hours—even down paths we’ve all been told are off-limits?”

David blinked at Connor and gave another hesitant nod.

“And now you’ve got the nerve to tell me that I can’t manage an
imp
?” exclaimed Connor. “Why, because I’m not David Menlo, Sorcerer supreme? How arrogant are you, mate?”

“Connor!” said Sarah. “That’s enough.”

David’s face turned beet red.

“I just . . .” David choked off the sentence and bowed his head, pushing away from the table. He scampered upstairs, closing the door quietly behind him.

“So much for the party,” said Connor, looking guilty and miserable.

“We should go after David,” said Cynthia. “He was just trying to be helpful.”

“You’re a kind girl,” said Mr. Sikes, turning his luminous eyes on Cynthia. “And I agree with you wholeheartedly. Many have been led to believe the worst of imps, and I can’t fault your friend for believing the stories.”

“Maybe I was a little harsh,” Connor admitted. “I’ll go find him.”

“No,” said Max, stirring the melting cubes in his lemonade, “just let him be.”

Connor nodded. “I’ll catch up with him tomorrow, then. Oh! Mr. Sikes, I almost forgot the original reason I summoned you tonight—but I guess you’re probably not feeling up to it anymore.”

Mr. Sikes’s ears twitched and the imp promptly smoothed his pearl-gray suit.

“If it’s within my power, I’d be honored to fulfill Master Lynch’s request.”

“Excellent,” said Connor, grinning at Max. “Can you make people forget things?”

“Of course,” said Mr. Sikes, affecting a little bow. “There would be little need for imps if their services were restricted to lemonade. I can do what you ask, Master Lynch, but . . .” The imp hesitated.

“What?” asked Connor. “What do you need?”

“Their names, for a start,” said the demon, rubbing his injured arm. “And, of course, I can’t be bound within a circle. Mr. Sikes needs to visit them when they sleep, you see.”

“Connor,” said Sarah with a disapproving tone, “this is not a good idea.”

Max was inclined to agree. He did not like the idea of a demon—
any
demon—flitting about campus on secret errands. Connor, however, merely ignored Sarah and kept his attention focused on the impeccably tailored creature removing a singed thread from his suit jacket.

“What if they see you?” asked Connor, ignoring Sarah.

“They won’t,” said Mr. Sikes reassuringly.

“And they won’t be hurt at all?” asked Connor. “No side effects or anything like that?”

“Never in life,” promised the imp.

Old Tom chimed seven o’clock, and Max felt his stomach growl.

There was another knock at the door.

“That’s probably David,” said Max, glancing at the key sitting on his roommate’s dresser. He climbed the stairs and opened the door only to find Cooper looming outside. Max had never seen Cooper in the dormitory wings and guessed that his unexpected presence accounted for the empty hallway and its uncharacteristic silence.

“Hi, Cooper!” Max shouted, for the benefit of those downstairs.

Cooper gave Max a quizzical glance but said nothing as he stepped past Max to examine the room and its celestial ceiling. Max heard the frantic whispers of his classmates down below.

“Who else is here?” asked the Agent, eyeing the staircase to the lower level.

“Nobody,” said Max defensively. “I mean, nobody who shouldn’t be here. I mean, er, Connor, Cynthia, Sarah, and Lucia.”

“Dinner’s getting cold downstairs,” Cooper murmured. “They’ll need to hurry if they want to eat.”

“What?” asked Max. “They have to go?”

“No,” said Cooper. “You do. Grab a sweater.”

Max hesitated.

“And where do I have to go?”

“The Director’s decided that you and David are to be Acclimated,” said Cooper. “We have to be there before midnight.”

“Maybe I should talk to Ms. Richter,” said Max, not at all liking the sound of Acclimation.

“The Director’s been in meetings ever since that witch left. She’s not to be disturbed.”

“But I haven’t slept in, like, twenty-four hours,” pleaded Max.

“You can sleep in the car,” muttered Cooper unsympathetically. “Where’s David?”

“I don’t know,” said Max quickly, very anxious that Cooper should not learn anything of Mr. Sikes. “He left a little while ago.”

Cooper frowned.

“We need to find him—now.”

“Guys,” called Max, “I’ve got to go somewhere with Cooper.”

The girls shuffled upstairs, murmuring good-byes as they filed quickly past Cooper. Connor came last, hefting his duffel and holding the small felt bag of stones.

“Hey, Max,” he said. “That thing is all taken care of—I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Er, thanks,” said Max, secretly horrified that Connor had sent Mr. Sikes on his errands.

Connor disappeared into his room across the hall, and Max trotted back downstairs to snatch a pair of sweatshirts. All evidence of Mr. Sikes’s visit had vanished—the lemonades, coasters, and glowing circle were nowhere to be found.

As it turned out, David was easy to track down; Cooper and Max stumbled upon him as soon as they walked out the front door of the Manse. David sat at the edge of the drive’s circular fountain, dragging his hand through the gurgling water and gazing out at a sky of fading yellows and oranges that signaled the end of the day. He accepted Cooper’s command without comment and tucked the sweatshirt Max had brought for him under his arm as Cooper pulled a long black sedan round to the fountain.

Once inside the car, there was little talking as Cooper deflected Max’s questions and David sat quietly gazing out the window. The sedan wound past clipped lawns and tended gardens until it reached the darkening woods, easing under a newly constructed archway that tunneled through the massive walls of swirling granite that David had drawn from the earth. Great gates of iron swung outward, and the car was bathed in the sudden glare of powerful spotlights. Cooper accelerated, leaving Rowan far behind as they joined the broader road and sped up the rocky coast.

Since Cooper refused to answer any questions, Max had resolved to sleep throughout the ride. He was still half dozing when he felt the car ease to a stop. The engine was shut off, and Max heard Cooper exit the car, his footsteps crunching on gravel. Max’s door opened and he was unceremoniously plucked from the warm leather seat, his feet set down on the gravel, where he yawned and blinked at a stand of sparse-needled pines. A moment later, Cooper set David down beside him.

“Where are we?” asked Max.

Cooper ignored his question and glanced at his watch.

“No time for questions,” he said. “The instructions are simple. You two are to follow that path down to the beach. Once there, you’ll wait and offer your assistance to anyone who happens by. You are not to use Mystics or light any sort of fire. Understood?”

“Yeah, but—” began Max, but Cooper was already climbing back into the car. The engine hummed to life and he reversed up a long, twisting drive of patchy gravel.

Max and David were left alone, gazing at a worn, sandy path that wound past a long-abandoned cottage whose roof was warped and sagging. The cottage’s windows were broken and dark; weeds grew in tall clumps about it.

“I guess we go down to the beach,” said Max, passing the cottage on his right.

David followed, giving the cottage a generous berth as the two hurried down a crude staircase of sun-bleached boards half submerged beneath pebbly sand. Max’s hair whipped about as he stepped over a low dune and down to a broad expanse of beach.

The waves retreated to leave a gleaming swath of sand beneath a dead white moon. The two boys walked closer to the water, hugging their sweatshirts around them. They leaned against a great black rock crusted over with barnacles and absorbed the sounds and sights of the wind and sea. Nothing, not even a gull or insect, seemed to inhabit the stretch of beach. After almost an hour of silent vigil, Max grew impatient.

“Want to have a look around?” he asked David, pushing away from the rock.

His roommate shook his head, clutching his sweatshirt with his eyes riveted on the distant cottage, now silhouetted against the moonlit clouds. David’s teeth chattered from the cold.

“You sure?” asked Max. “Walking will keep you warm.”

“I’m okay,” muttered David, blowing on his hands. “Why don’t you just stay here?”

“ ’Cause I’m bored and freezing,” said Max, stamping his feet. “I won’t go far. Give a holler if you see anything, okay?”