The Street Wizard

By R. L. Gemmill

BATTLE AT R.F.K. STADIUM

Jon meets the Street Wizard face to face; Kelly sees a shrink about her terrible nightmares; the Demon Boss goes high tech.
The best news? Travis picks up a new skill.
The worst news? The Assassin launches a plan to kill the world's top scientists in a single night.

READ WITH CAUTION

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Nov 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9780996373128

Book preview

Chapter 1

Bull’s Eye

MOGEN DEEL

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Mogen Deel awoke in a lake of blood. He didn’t know whose blood it was, but it was the first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes. Everything was red, though the blood looked almost black in the light. He thought it could be demon blood and then realized it was too watery. Demon blood flowed more like oil. This blood belonged to a person. Blinking his eyes into focus, he raised his head. Never in his life had he seen so much blood. Some poor bastard must have gotten blown to bits.

Deel recalled a rocket coming at him in another part of the cave. But he had touched his belt in time; he was sure of it. Time. How long had he been there? He needed to know the time.

It took an enormous effort to raise his left arm to check his watch. But the watch was gone, along with his hand and half of his forearm. A fountain of blood spurted out of the stump. The stream stopped and then spurted out again in rhythm with his faltering heartbeat.

My blood.

His consciousness was slipping away. He needed to adjust the coat sleeve. He reached across his chest with his good right hand and touched his belt. The shredded sleeve on his mutilated arm tightened, but not enough. All parts of his suit were supposed to form a tourniquet, automatically, if significant blood loss was detected. Either the monitors weren’t sensing his loss of blood, or the explosion had compromised the pressure device in his sleeve. He watched in silent horror as blood from his arm continued to spurt out, though the tightening of the sleeve had partially reduced the flow.

Once he realized what had happened to his arm, the pain became unbearable. Mogen touched his belt again. Painkillers were instantly released into his bloodstream by special injectors in the belt. They immediately delivered relief to his brain and body. Thank Concern Corporation! Something was working properly.

Mogen felt faint. Too much blood loss. Even with the partial tourniquet, he was going to pass out and die. Why hadn’t the belt transferred him? It should have been automatic, like the tourniquet. He was so weak he couldn’t raise his head again, let alone crawl some place to hide until help arrived. Was the emergency signal dispatched before the watch disintegrated? What if it hadn’t been? What if his tracker signal was nonfunctional as well? He was up for promotion, dammit! It just wasn’t fair.

---

STEPHANIE

---

Stephanie Mainz had been a slave to the demons for over five months now. They had grabbed her, her husband, and their two children in the middle of the night right out of their beds. Somehow, the demons had come in through the floor in the den. Her husband, Frank, had fought like a madman, but they bashed his head in with a mace. Her children had been taken to some other part of the cave as soon as they’d arrived, and she hadn’t seen them since.

The demons had her assembling spearheads onto long metal poles. She wished she could rig the heads so they’d fall off after a few dozen stabs. She tried not to think about how many people might die because of her. She wanted revenge, but she would have traded all the vengeance in the world just to have her family back again.

She had nearly lost all hope, but today held promise. A huge battle raged in the other cave, the area where the Demon Boss’ chambers were. It sounded like a war! She had seen the FBI SWAT lady come sneaking through her area to cut the chains off many of her friends. The brave woman had stopped at Stephanie’s chains and left. Soon after that, the alarm went out. Probably several hundred people had gotten out of the mining area, but did any of them make it out of the cavern?

Then came a second massive explosion near the giant arch. The Boss had been flung all the way across the cave. He’d slammed into the wall and lay still for a long time. Other demons surrounded him, making a protective shield, though Stephanie got the feeling a few of them might have been plotting to kill him while he was unconscious. She saw some of them arguing, directing weapons at the Boss’ head. The Boss’ minions fought them off. It had been an obvious chance to change power to a new leader, but apparently, not one rebel was competent enough to take command.

The explosion had also sent a human into her cave who had landed a few feet from where she worked. Stephanie figured the guy must have been fresh since his business suit looked new, despite the tattered sleeve and layers of dirt. The man’s clothes were soaked in blood; he wouldn’t live much longer. She hurried to him.

Mister? Can you hear me? Mister? She noticed his hand was gone, along with a portion of his arm. His face bled from many cuts, some deeper than others. His left leg lay twisted in an unnatural position. He was still breathing, but barely.

Stephanie remembered enough first aid to get started. She tore strips of cloth from her ragged shirt and quickly tied off the bleeding arm in a makeshift tourniquet. The shirt was filthy and old. She had gotten it from a man who had tried to fight the demons as soon as he’d arrived. They had killed him and left him dead on the floor next to her. She’d quickly collected his shirt and used a spearhead to fight off anyone that might try to take it away from her. Other people had fought over his pants, socks, and shoes. She could have used new shoes, but you couldn’t be too greedy in the caves.

Finally, the wound stopped spurting blood. The tourniquet worked. Stephanie nodded to herself. First aid training in a college P.E. class had paid off. She did not know what to do for the man’s leg, but at least now he had a chance to survive. The man slowly opened his eyes and watched her for a moment in silence.

Thank you, Stephanie. He never moved his lips at all. He had spoken inside her mind and somehow knew her name.

A group of men and women, still in shackles, came over to see the newcomer. They also wanted to catch some of the battle action. The demons were preoccupied with the war and had forgotten all about guarding any slaves.

One man, a huge, overweight newbie who claimed he used to play pro football, leaned over her patient.

Is he dead?

No, said Stephanie.

I want his shoes.

You’ve got shoes, said another. You just got here. They’re still in good condition.

I want an extra pair.

Stephanie became defensive. Stay away from him until he dies!

A rail-thin woman leaned over the man, studying his face. "I’ve seen him before. He’s that fancy businessman who comes in here all the time to sell things to the Boss. He’s working with them."

Are you sure? asked the chubby guy.

I am.

She’s right, said another. He just sold them a bunch of crossbows and bolts. The Boss let a smaller demon test one to make sure they were easy to use. The demon shot a guy near me. He burned up alive. There wasn’t anything left of him.

I think he’s the reason we’re all down here, said the chubby guy. Eric and Anya told me he’s the one who started all this war stuff.

Stephanie backed away from the man. She stared at him unable to comprehend such perverse thinking. What kind of person would do that to his fellow human beings?

Doesn’t matter, said the thin woman. He deserves to die.

Two of the men took up a long chain that had been cut and left behind. They looped the chain around the man’s neck.

Stephanie thought about her children. She remembered Frank’s courage. Her anger boiled inside her. Don’t stop pulling till his head comes off. Do it slowly.

The men nodded. Each pulled on his end of the chain. Their victim’s eyes opened slightly. His tongue pushed out through his lips as the chain began to strangle him. Stephanie looked on with vague satisfaction. This man had caused everything. He had destroyed her family, her life. Let him die.

The chain suddenly went taut. The men stumbled off balance. The big man fell to his butt.

NO! Stephanie dropped to her knees. She wanted revenge. Not this! Everyone stared at the ground, disbelieving.

The man in the suit had vanished.

Chapter 2

A Most Important Patient

DR. HART

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Dr. Hart steered the gurney through the hallway at a sprint. He moved as if his career depended on it. Maybe it did. The unconscious patient was the most distinguished person they’d ever treated at that hospital: Mogen Deel, the highest-ranking under-administrator employed by Concern Corporation.

Saving the life of a man such as Deel could make a doctor’s career blast off. The sky was the limit. On the flip side, failure would most likely force Hart into a different field of work; he much preferred carrying out the responsibilities of a doctor to those of a janitor. He might even face charges of gross negligence in the death of a corporate manager. If he lost a case like that, prison time was a sure thing. Concern Corporation took the medical care of its upper-level executives very seriously. To make matters more complicated, Dr. Hart not only had to save the man, but he had to fix him as good as new.

Well, thought Dr. Hart, as he raced through the halls. There will be no fixing if he dies.

Deel’s survival didn’t look hopeful. He had suffered massive blood loss, and there was no telling how long his body had been in shock. His vital signs fluctuated unpredictably from barely living to already dead. The cardiac stimulator that was built into the suit he wore had kept him alive up to now. That and a crude tourniquet someone had put on his wounded arm.

Two nurses flanked the gurney. The female nurse on the left helped Dr. Hart steer their patient toward surgery. The male nurse on the right ran along with them, holding an IV bag and its tubing about head high. All gurneys came with a portable drip pole for IVs, but they were electrical and took a good thirty seconds to set up. Hart hadn’t been sure they could spare that much time with this patient.

Flashing red lights in the ceiling warned other people to stay out of their way. Dr. Hart picked up the pace.

They steered the gurney into SURGERY 1. Dr. Hart allowed the staff to set everything up while he barked telepathic orders.

We need A-positive blood and lots of it! Get a prosthetic left forearm and hand! And get genetics down here, STAT! Assuming he lives, we need to start growing him a new arm right away!

A surgical technician tossed him a clean towel. Hart wiped sweat off his face and his shiny bald head. He dropped the towel into a waste container and studied the patient while the staff worked hard and fast. Assuming they could save him, the torn flesh on Deel’s left forehead would require a perfect graft to hide the wound. But perfect grafts didn’t exist. Deel would most likely have an eye-catching 4.66-centimeter scar there for the rest of his life.

Some people in Deel’s line of work would wear a scar like that proudly and use it to boast about the dangers of their job. How many low-level execs had climbed the corporate ladder by impressing their superiors with a tale of danger and courage? Hart wasn’t sure how Deel would take it. The man had an ego the size of Jupiter and was most unforgiving when it came to quality control. If coworkers or competitors viewed a scar as a shortcoming, he could even claim malpractice and sue. Hart frowned at the possibilities.

The female nurse quickly set up the drip pole and attached the IV bag to it. She made sure ample life-saving fluids flowed into the patient’s good arm before moving on to her next task. The male nurse took up scissors and attempted to cut off Deel’s sleeve. A burst of golden lightning shot out of the coat. The man cried out and jumped back, dropping the scissors. He shook his hand; he’d been electrocuted.

Hart saw the problem immediately. His suit’s live! Everyone in the room recoiled at the unfamiliar sound of a person’s voice. Get a disabler!

The surgical technician raised a small, black remote control and clicked it. It’s off! she said inside everyone’s mind. She put away the remote.

The male nurse took up the scissors and touched the coat’s material again, cautiously. Nothing happened. He trimmed off the coat first, then the shirt and pants.

What happened to him, Doctor Hart? thought the female nurse.

Hart considered the evidence. I can’t be sure until we see the video, but considering the damage done, my guess is he took a direct hit.

From what? A shotgun? An exploding round? A hand grenade?

More likely a rocket. This man is lucky to be mostly still in one piece, let alone alive. Put him in stasis, ASAP. I need to call management and see what to do about this. Oh, and put a brachial loop on his arm to maintain blood flow until stasis is complete. Keep him sedated. We don’t want him to wake up at a time like this.

Chapter 3

The Personal Assistant

KEN-DAL’ DIGG—Z-Z

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Ken-Dal’ Digg—Z-Z appeared on the Ramp deep inside Pandora’s Cave with a special package in one hand. Most of her coworkers at Concern Corporation called her Digg—Z-Z as a nickname, and it worked for her. Where she’d come from nobody used nicknames, but she had found that a shorter name sped things up, like introductions, job interviews, and business transactions. In today’s world, time was money. That was especially true now since Mr. Deel was in stasis for an indefinite period. Administrators at Concern Corporation needed to decide exactly how he had gotten blown halfway across this cavern, and as his personal assistant, Digg—Z-Z had some catching up to do. She also had quite a few important decisions to make. She wanted to impress.

Digg—Z-Z was a heartthrob. Her beauty was legendary. She had large green eyes and light brown, flawless skin. Her torso mimicked the shape of the red hourglass design found on the belly of a female Black Widow spider. It was a feature she worked hard to maintain. Her near-perfect legs had been known to stop coworkers in their tracks at the height of a busy workday, causing them to use company time to daydream of being Digg—Z-Z’s partner.

It didn’t matter that three tubes ran out the back of her neck and led into her nostrils on both sides of her head: a red tube, a blue tube, and a yellow tube. The tubes were attractive, essential, and polished to a glossy shine. They kept her alive in a world full of illness and disease. She tried to keep them clean and ornate, like expensive jewelry. It wasn’t her fault she had a rare blood disease.

Digg—Z-Z strolled down the Ramp, noting the patches of dried black or red-brown blood on the stone. Signs of a battle were everywhere. The stone was chipped, cracked, or broken. Human bones that had been picked clean littered the cavern floor far below. The rich aroma of Death was in the air. In her business, the math was simple: Death = Success = Profit. As she descended the Ramp, three husky demons armed with spears and shields appeared from irregular shadows on the walls behind her. She offered them a friendly smile as they followed her to the cavern floor.

She passed the massive rock that glowed red, providing light energy for both caverns. A rather large, dried pool of blood near a disabled conveyor belt got her full attention. Without bending an inch, she carefully sniffed the air. The odor was barely discernible, but enough distinguishing characteristics were unmistakable. That dried, brown pool of blood belonged to her immediate boss. She quickly ascertained what must have happened. Mr. Deel had lain there for some time, draining critical body fluids. She took a mental picture of the scene and marched past four large cages and numerous weapons stashes.

By the time she arrived at the entrance to the Demon Boss’ chambers, over a dozen armed demons had followed her. She paid them no mind. Her business was with the Boss himself. Two large demon guards blocked her way inside.

Stop, human! ordered the larger of the two guards. This one had two arms and four tentacles on its upper torso. The tentacles ended in long, curved stingers; the type found on a scorpion. The creature also carried a sword and a shield.

Excuse me, she said in her most professional tone. I’ve brought something for your Boss that he misses. It would not be wise to hinder my advance.

The demons laughed. The leader spoke again. Take her to the mines!

As the demons closed in, Digg—Z-Z touched her belt and vanished. She instantly reappeared inside the Boss’ antechamber. She ignored the confusion outside the door as the demons went on a mad search for her. Two more demon guards inside the doorway surprised her. Since when did this Demon Boss need four bodyguards? She touched the belt again and froze the inside guards in place. She was a busy woman. She didn’t need lesser demons slowing her down.

She opened the package she’d brought and set her notebook on a wide stone table in the center of the room. She took out a neatly folded black morph rag and shook it open. Before the rocket wounded him, Mr. Deel had told her the Boss hung the rag on the south wall, but she had to think hard about geographical directions this far down inside a cave. She found the wall she wanted and saw rusted hooks set in the stone. If Mr. Deel had kept better notes, she’d be finished and gone by now. As a Director of Company Operations, Mr. Deel was one of the best. But he was also, in her opinion, arrogant and shortsighted. Deel rarely wrote anything down, preferring to keep nearly all his plans in his mind until he was ready to put them into action. He had never expected or prepared for an emergency such as being shot by a rocket at close range. Such recklessness would be vetted by the Administration before he’d be allowed to return to work.

What are you doing in my chambers! The thick, guttural voice was so frightening it could only belong to the Demon Boss himself. I have nothing left to steal. The Hated One took everything I had. The Boss entered her end of the chamber. She gaped at his size. He was gigantic! He must have been the largest demon ever!

"Your Lordship. My name is Digg—Z-Z. I heard about your problem, so I brought you a brand new morph rag at no cost. We at Concern Corporation aim to please, and we always want satisfied customers. I’m so sorry I disturbed you by entering unannounced." She passed him the rag.

Morph rag? The Boss opened the solid black cloth with tiny white beads sewn in all around the perimeter. He studied it carefully. Why did you call it a morph rag? It’s a Doomsday Shroud.

Digg—Z-Z thought quickly. Doomsday Shroud? A propitious name. Mr. Deel certainly had a sense of humor when it came to demons. She turned and smiled. You may call it whatever you like, your Lordship. But truly, it’s nothing more than a morph rag.

The Boss grunted. How did you get by my guards?

I walked.

Where’s Deel? I haven’t seen him since he got blown up. Did he die?

Mr. Deel die? No, Silly, Concern Corporation put him in stasis until his body heals. Oh, I see. You’re joking. Digg—Z-Z laughed until the big demon frowned. So, he wasn’t joking. She cleared her throat. Admin sent me to apologize to you for his absence and to act as his replacement. It’s temporary; I assure you. Mr. Deel is alive and well, and if he wasn’t frozen in a stasis chamber, I’m sure he’d want me to tell you ‘Hello.’ I’ve been appointed to carry out business-as-usual with you and all of Demon Nation. The demon plan of human conquest continues right on schedule. I can’t stay long on this trip, but while I’m here, my Lord, is there anything you need to order? I can get you chronologically appropriate weapons, materials, tools, and machine parts. Or perhaps you’d like another, uh, Doomsday Shroud as a backup?

The Boss narrowed his horrible eyes. Yes. I’d like five extra Doomsday… morph rags. Can you do that?

Five brand new morph rags coming right up! Digg—Z-Z turned her hands over and paused. Seconds later she held a stack of black rags, each separated by clear wrapping, folded, and ready to use. She set them on the rock table and took up her notebook. Let’s see; that’s five morph rags. I can give you a better price than you got on the first one since you ordered in bulk.

"How many rags can I order?"

As many as you need. But you can do a lot with these six; I assure you. You should probably spend your money on more important things.

"Like five more P-700 swords. I want them all to be Devil’s Bites."

"Oh, well, I’m afraid that isn’t possible. Unfortunately, a sword like Devil’s Bite is one-of-a-kind. We are currently manufacturing, only for you, another one similar to it, though with slightly reduced power. It’s a solid P-680, though. I think a demon with your size and fighting ability would have little trouble taking on anyone, P-700 or not. Both items are unique in the world of weapons. Until now, the most powerful sword had been a P-500 model. Unfortunately, the demon-human we trained to handcraft these weapons is ill from working with the materials. That’s why another P-700 is impossible."

Some of my demons are afraid to touch the morph rag…uh…the Doomsday Shroud. Is there anything in it that could hurt them?

Other than minuscule amounts of spent plutonium, absolutely not, Your Lordship. Anyone can work with a morph rag. Did Mr. Deel instruct you on how to use one?

The Boss nodded. Digg—Z-Z wished she could read the mind of a demon, so she’d know why he was asking these questions.

"What about Devil’s Bite? If another demon handles it, what can happen to it?"

"A powerful demon like yourself can be in contact with Devil’s Bite or any other P-model sword indefinitely with no ill effects. Lesser demons can certainly be adversely affected. In the long run, it’s best if you are the only one who handles the sword."

What are those things hanging out of your nose? Small tentacles?

Tentacles? Oh, no sir, they’re tubes. I have a rare blood disease, but it’s not contagious. Of course, you couldn’t get it even if you wanted to; you’re a demon. She laughed and touched the Boss on his arm.

I can’t afford the price Deel gave me for the new sword. I’m not even sure I want it.

Digg—Z-Z swallowed hard. He might not want it? Didn’t he understand how important that Sword was in his quest to reclaim the surface? A Sword like that was more valuable than all the gemstones on the planet! She couldn’t lose this sale.

Why don’t I let you have it for 10% off? Does that help meet your budget?

The Boss appeared to do some math in his head. He nodded slowly. I can work with that. So Deel is your boss?

Essentially, yes, sir, though we both answer to higher powers. Why do you ask?

"I’d rather work with you than him. I can’t trust him. You want to please your customers, but Deel is out to get rich off us. When is he due back?"

I’m not sure, Your Lordship. I’ll try to find out. Until then, I will be your personal assistant whenever I’m here, and I’ll do my best to serve you. If that’s all you need…. She paused until the Boss nodded slightly. I’ll be on my way.

How do you plan to get out of here? I’ve got some pissed off demons out there looking for you.

I’ll simply take your leave, thank you very much. Even if they could pay in cash, I don’t do business with lesser demons. Sometimes they just don’t have the intelligence that goes with authority, like yourself. Have a good day, Your Lordship. Digg—Z-Z touched her belt and disappeared again.

Chapter 4

Bad Dreams

DANTE

---

Dante was going to see the bones. He was so excited he couldn’t stay still in his seat on the 1932 Ford Model B school bus. He and his classmates were all excited. Old Mrs. Cassar and Fraulein Schmidt were taking them on a field trip to see the mysterious caves that stored ancient human bones. Lots of them! Though Dante had lived in Malta his whole life and had heard all about the caves, his parents had never taken him to see the bone room.

Dante realized at once he was dreaming the same dream he had had many times before. He should have stirred himself awake to stop it, but he didn’t want to. There was always the hope that this would be the one time the dream didn’t show the horror as it had actually come to pass. Maybe this time he had a chance for a happy ending, even if it was a lie. He should have forced himself awake, but as usual, the dream started out being too much fun.

The students sat shoulder to shoulder on the bus. Most of the seats had three people in them. Dante sat with his best friend, who was older—a teenager—and the strongest boy in the entire school. But he couldn’t remember the friend’s name. In real life, his memory had been nearly perfect, but not anymore, not even in his dreams. As he looked around at the other kids on the bus, Dante realized he no longer remembered any of their names. His memory loss should have made him sad, but the thrill of going to see the bone room was too great.

Dante had a shiny new Brownie camera hung from a cord around his neck that his Uncle Fabio had given him for Christmas that year. Uncle Fabio lived in Rome and was very wealthy. He had told Dante that the 1938 camera was the newest and best one made. The camera was the most excellent gift Dante had ever gotten. He also had a brown crocodile-skin satchel for carrying film and flashbulbs. His bag lunch sat beside him on the seat. Mom had made his favorite sandwich: salted smelt and sliced olives. He could smell traces of the spiced fish and tried to keep his thoughts away from food since lunch was a long way off. He also caught the sweet scent of dried figs wrapped in a thin cloth. Dante’s mouth watered. He loved figs.

Dante wanted to take pictures of the group outside the cave before they went in, but he’d brought plenty of flashbulbs for inside, too. All the boys were hoping they could eat lunch in the bone room, but their teachers hadn’t confirmed the plan yet. The girls would call it gross, but Dante thought eating lunch with the dead would be fantastic. It was something he could tell his parents about later.

The bus parked in front of a stone building that contained five different homes on the ground level. Nearby, several men worked to replace a drainage pipe beside the road. An old man wearing a black cap sat on a wooden bench in front of the house that was nearest the cave. He smoked a cigarette and leaned back in comfort as he watched the kids with a smile.

Fraulein Schmidt rose from her seat at the front of the bus. The bus got quiet.

Class, I vant everybody to get off zhe bus and follow Mrs. Cassar. You vill line up at zhe entrance to zhe cave, right over zhere. She stooped forward and pointed out the bus window. The students all looked. Mr. Zhora, our guide, will meet us. Single file, now go. The kids unloaded.

Fraulein Schmidt was the most beautiful woman Dante had ever seen. She was tall and slender with graceful, tiny hands and dark brown hair. Her eyes were the same color blue as the Mediterranean Sea on a bright summer day. Everybody loved her, but Dante felt he loved her the most. She was only twenty-two, which meant she was thirteen years older than he was. He secretly wanted to marry her, though he knew she’d most likely go back to her home in Germany in a few years and get another job teaching someplace else.

Dante got his camera and satchel and followed his best friend off the bus. Several of the smallest girls in class waved to the old man on the bench as they ran by him. He nodded and waved back, still smiling. The other kids chased each other around the bus until Mr. Zhora arrived. He cleared his throat loudly and gave them a look that made them quickly line up at the cave entrance, which was a gigantic hole in the ground. Mr. Zhora spoke only in Maltese.

Hello, Children. I’m Mr. Zhora, but you can call me Joe. I am here to show you the cave. First, I want to tell you about it. In 1909, workers were digging a well in this very spot. They were standing right over there by the entrance when the rock beneath them caved in. After careful exploration of the many underground chambers, it became clear that this was some kind of significant religious burial ground. It may also have been a secret meeting place. We still do not know what the full purpose was for the chambers, other than burial spaces. And we do not know who made them.

One of the older kids raised his hand. He spoke in Maltese. When he had finished with his question, the other students made fun of him.

It’s Tuesday, Tahima, said old Mrs. Cassar, who spoke English with almost no accent at all. What language do we always speak on Tuesday?

Tahima grinned, embarrassed. English, Mrs. Cassar.

Ask your question again.

Mr. Zhora, I saw the bone room when we came here lasd year. How many people did you say were buried there?

Mr. Zhora nodded. First, Mrs. Cassar, I apologize I do not speak English so well. I did not know it was English Tuesday.

That’s fine, Mr. Zhora, said Mrs. Cassar in Maltese. Some of the younger children covered their mouth and pointed at her like she’d said curse words. We all understand our own language.

He nodded and continued. We estimate that the bones of over 33,000 people are in that room, stacked like firewood. The children all murmured excitedly. Some girls looked frightened. It’s a huge room.

Mrs. Cassar took charge. Line up behind me, children! She stood at the edge of the cave as everyone lined up quickly. Mrs. Cassar was old, like the man on the bench. Dante figured she must have been teaching for like a hundred years. His best friend had once told him she would probably die teaching, just drop dead in front of the whole school. She continued. Mr. Zhora will lead us. He will carry a lantern, and so will I. Fraulein Schmidt will be at the other end of the line with a flashlight. Hold on to the rope, whether or not you think you need to. The crevasse is deep.

Dante raised his hand. Fraulein Schmidd! Can I dake a picture of the class? He said class, but it would be a picture of every student in his school, all 31 of them.

Mr. Zhora smiled. Mrs. Cassar looked at her wristwatch. Fraulein Schmidt quickly gathered everyone together into a group pose. Is zhis good?

Dante stood back to where he could get everyone in view. Say cheese!

The group collectively said, Cheeeeese! Some said it in English, and some in Maltese. Dante got the shot. Gread! He ran back in line.

The old man on the bench got up and ambled over to them. He also spoke in Maltese. Show me how to work that camera of yours, boy. I’ll take another photograph with you in it, too. You should be in the picture with the rest of your school, don’t you think?

Yes, sir. Dante showed the man how the camera worked, then ran to the group.

Everybody ready? Okay, smile big!

The old man snapped the picture and returned the camera to Dante. He laughed and waved again. Most of the class waved back. Dante thanked him, then waited to be last in line so he could be near Fraulein Schmidt. He wanted to call her Lena, which was her first name. Lena was short for Elena. If he called her by her first name, though, the other kids would probably laugh at him. She was a teacher and an elder. Nobody would tolerate such behavior from a nine-year-old.

Dante, said Fraulein Schmidt. Didn’t you bring a lunch?

Dante nodded and smiled. But when he realized he didn’t have his lunch with him, he panicked. He looked all around. The kids were moving into the cave.

Waid! Id’s on the bus! He ran back to the bus where the driver was sitting behind the wheel reading a book.

Hurry! Fraulein Schmidt went with him.

Dante got to his seat and grabbed his lunch. He got off the bus and noticed that Fraulein Schmidt was posed with her arms cocked like she was at a starting line for competition.

Race you back! she said playfully. Dante grinned from ear to ear and lined up with her. Ready, she said. Set. Go!

Dante ran as fast as he could to impress Fraulein Schmidt. His camera, case, and lunch bag flopped in different directions as he ran. She beat him by only three steps.

You’re so fast! she said, rubbing his coal black hair.

You bead me, he replied, a little upset he hadn’t won.

Yes, but I’m a good runner, and you’re only nine. I bet you’ll be zhe fastest boy in Malta when you’re older.

Dante beamed with pride. Fraulein Schmidt took up the flashlight she’d set by the cave entrance and checked to make sure it worked. She motioned for him to go inside first. Dante was thrilled to be with his favorite teacher, but now he was on full alert as they entered the darkness. They slowly descended into the dank-smelling, mysterious cave. As they rounded a short turn, Dante glanced back to take a last look at the gray morning sky. He smiled at Fraulein Schmidt as they caught up with the others.

Dante inched along the narrow path, tightly gripping the long rope they used as both a guide and safety rail. One end of the rope had been fastened to a post just outside the cave entrance. It ran from the post through dozens of iron rings that were bolted to the wall all the way down into the cave. The rope was thicker than his arms and had been worn smooth with the wear of many gripping hands.

He peeked over the edge of the crevasse. It must have been every bit as deep as Mrs. Cassar had said. It was pitch dark, too: he couldn’t see the bottom. Dante’s imagination got the best of him, pretending that vile creatures deep in the chasm were reaching up for his ankles. He got scared and looked back again. Fraulein Schmidt smiled at him, her blue eyes dancing with excitement. Her beauty in the glowing light made him completely forget about imaginary monsters.

He saw a pebble on the path and picked it up. He dropped it into the crevasse and listened. He never heard it strike anything. He exchanged a nervous look with Fraulein Schmidt. She was surprised, too.

Is id boddomless? he asked, daring another glance over the edge.

Nozhing is bottomless, she replied in her German accent. But it is deep, ja?

Whad’s thad down there? asked an older girl, pointing toward a dark opening at the low end of the path.

The bone room, said Mr. Zhora in Maltese. Apparently, their guide didn’t speak English well, but he certainly understood it. Follow me.

Dante was both terrified and intrigued, but he wasn’t so sure he wanted to eat lunch there anymore. What if it smelled bad?

Movement on a narrow ledge on the other side of the crevasse caught his attention. It was a creature as tall as a house, but thin like a tree, and covered with white hair. It wore a thin, metallic-looking belt around its middle. One of the younger girls saw it and screamed. The rest of the class cried out and edged closer to the wall. Everyone gripped the rope handrail tighter.

What is it? asked a teenage girl at the front of the line.

I don’t know, said Mr. Zhora. Nobody was speaking English anymore. Stay still, children. We should perhaps leave?

Mrs. Cassar nodded quickly and turned to Fraulein Schmidt. Don’t act afraid. Move slowly. It could be a wild animal.

I never saw a wild animal look like that, murmured the boy behind Dante.

Fraulein Schmidt swallowed hard and gave a quick nod. She turned and headed up the path at a steady pace. Dante followed her but kept a wary eye on the creature with white fur. He wasn’t acting afraid; he was frightened half to death.

The creature raised its hands straight in front, palms forward. Dante’s eyes widened. Something terrible would happen, he just knew it. He tugged on Fraulein Schmidt’s dress. She shined her flashlight straight at the creature. Everyone stayed frozen in fear.

Mrs. Cassar’s lantern dimmed. So did Mr. Zhora’s. The sturdy man got a wary look on his face.

Be calm, said Mr. Zhora. Class, I do not know how this is happening. Keep moving!

A strong breeze blew through the cave. Mr. Zhora’s lantern went completely out. A girl screamed. The youngest girl cried pitifully with her face pressed against an older girl’s dress. The teenage girl held her close.

Mr. Zhora fooled with the lantern, trying to make it work again. It should not do that. The flame is behind glass.

Suddenly the rope guideline slithered through the rings like a snake in a hurry; somebody had cut it at the cave entrance. Somebody or something pulled it from below. The students who had a firm grip on the rope got jerked off their feet. Others pulled their hands back in surprise when the rope moved on its own. It traveled down the path quickly and disappeared into the darkness.

Everyone shrieked. The ones who fell got back on their feet in a hurry. One boy panicked and sprinted up the path. He nearly knocked Fraulein Schmidt off her feet. She grabbed him by the collar and jerked him to a halt.

No, Eric! she demanded in a stern voice. We stay together! He looked at her with terror in his eyes, nodding slightly.

Yes, children, please be calm, said Mrs. Cassar. Something jerked the lantern out of Mrs. Cassar’s hand and threw it into the crevasse. It exploded when it struck the wall, lighting up the cave. Several students screamed. Nobody stayed calm anymore.

Mr. Zhora stood the furthest down the path. He waved his arms frantically. Children, hurry! Go, now!

Dante, the boy named Eric, and Fraulein Schmidt began to run up the steepest part of the path. She tried to direct her flashlight alternately in front of them and behind so the others could see as well. Dante reached into his satchel and took out a flashbulb for his camera. He moved as quickly as he could, trying to put the bulb into the flash attachment. He got it in but dropped his lunch. Somebody kicked it off the ledge. He raised the camera behind them, paused, and snapped.

The bright flash was startling. What became visible on the other side of the crevasse terrified them all. A cluster of tall creatures was there, much taller than people.

Monsters! cried somebody in Maltese.

They’re everywhere!

The students and teachers screamed. They ran for their lives. Dante stumbled and fell. The kid behind him stepped on his hand. Fraulein Schmidt stopped to help him up. She waved the others past.

Hurry children! Hurry!

Suddenly, Fraulein Schmidt got knocked down by something much larger than she was. Dante looked up. A huge, man-shaped creature with four arms took away her flashlight and tossed it into the crevasse. It struck the wall on the other side and landed on a ledge, somehow still putting out enough light to see what was happening. More creatures became visible in the glow. They closed in around them and from both sides of the chasm.

The monster in front of Dante had sickly yellow eyes like dull amber. It reached for him with scaly hands. Its sharp claws grabbed him around the ribs. Dante screamed. Fraulein Schmidt cried out. The flashlight faded quickly. Everything around them became dark and dangerous.

---

KELLY

---

Kelly woke up at four-thirty in the morning after the scary dream. She didn’t know if Dante was having a nightmare, or if that was what had really happened to him when he was nine. Either way, it was dreadful. Nothing got her wired like a bad dream, even if the dream was somebody else’s! As her thoughts cleared, she realized sometimes being telepathic wasn’t the greatest thing in the world.

She got out of bed, put on her slippers and robe, and marched down the hall to Dante’s room. Dante was an old man who had escaped from the demons in Pandora’s Cave with Jon, Anton Edwards, and her foster dad, Chris McCormick. A few weeks ago, their next-door neighbor, Dr. Parrish, had offered to let Dante live at his house, but the move lasted for only one night. A gang of demons got into Dante’s room and nearly took him back to the cave. Lucky for him, their family stopped them. They permanently killed three demons in that fight. After that, Dante decided he wanted to live in a safer place. He moved back to Chris and Angie’s house the very next day.

Kelly knocked first, then went in. Dante never locked his room anymore. In case another demon somehow got in, he wanted people to be able to help him without breaking down the door.

Kelly was loud. Dante! Dante! Wake up!

The old man tossed about briefly, then sat back against the pillows. He looked at her with dazed eyes. Kelly?

One problem with Kelly’s telepathy was she could pick up nearly anybody’s thoughts when she was asleep. And if they were dreaming, she could get stuck inside the dream along with them. Kelly wasn’t sure if there was any way to fix it, but tonight she’d had enough.

Stop dreaming so loud! She turned and left, hearing Dante’s confused thoughts when she was gone. He had no idea what she meant.

---

SCARKK

---

Scarkk had found a tiny crack in the house, between the plywood roof and the trim. Nobody had caulked there in years, and a gap had formed no thicker than three sheets of notebook paper. It was all Scarkk needed to get inside. He was an evil spirit on a mission of great importance. He floated through the attic in his gaseous, transparent body and slid through a crack in the attic stairway, drifting into the house.

In the second-floor hallway, Scarkk hovered in search of the right host. He was under strict orders about whom to inhabit, but he didn’t know where that person was. When he passed over a small nightlight glowing at one end of the hall, the light flickered and burned out. The hallway went dark. Not pitch dark, like in the caves, but dark enough to unnerve humans. He entered the bedroom nearest the light. He saw the old man Dante asleep in a soft bed. Dante became restless, so Scarkk left the room.

He drifted to another bedroom in the center of the house. Inside, he saw a white-haired boy sleeping in a top bunk. In the lower bunk was another boy, an older one. Scarkk recognized him. The Hated One! The older boy woke up, looking straight at Scarkk. The evil spirit nearly panicked. Could the Hated One see him? Did he still carry the Boss’ Sword? Scarkk moved out of that room as quickly as he could. He heard the Hated One get out of bed.

The formless spirit entered the next room. He saw the small dog that had housed young Slagnast, another evil spirit, not so long ago. The dog saw him, too. It growled. Its ferocity was much greater than its diminutive size, and Scarkk was nervous about going close to it. But that’s where his target host was. Scarkk identified the Kelly Bishop and rushed to her. The dog barked loudly.

---

JON

---

Jon woke up with a strong feeling of being watched. He thought he noticed something hovering above him, but it might have been a dream or sleep in his eyes. He grabbed the Boss’ Sword, Devil’s Bite, and went out into the hallway.

The house seemed darker than usual. He noted that the nightlight in front of the bathroom door was burned out. When Dante had moved back in, he’d insisted on having the nightlight put there. Jon tiptoed to Dante’s room to check on the old man first. Demons had already tried to grab him once, but that was in a different house. Angie and Chris had this place sealed up tighter than a submarine. He looked inside the door.

Dante was curled up under his light blankets, hugging three stuffed animals that Angie had gotten him. Jon left the old man’s room and continued down the hall.

Kaboodle started barking. Jon rushed through Kelly’s door ready for a fight. Kelly seemed to be asleep, but the dog was raising all kinds of hell. She barked at Kelly for a few seconds, then became quiet. She wagged her tail at Jon, and he petted her. Kelly sort of woke up looking around.

Why? she asked.

Your dog was barking. Did you see anything?

Nah. She dropped her head back on the pillow and was asleep instantly. Jon marveled at her ability to do that. He probably wouldn’t sleep the rest of the night, not now. He was still in battle mode.

He slipped Devil’s Bite back into its scabbard and carried it downstairs with him while he made some coffee. He had to be at his online school in a few hours, so he might as well get the morning