The Wicked Passage (A Blake Wyatt Adventure) (19 page)

CHAPTER 21

BLOODLINES AND PROMISES

Crumbled on a cold stone floor, Blake felt like a practice dummy for the Pittsburgh Steelers. Writhing in pain, he forced himself to one knee. Where was he? Sure not on Columbus’s ship.

The last thing he remembered was Dagonblud glaring at him from the capsized dinghy, and then--bam!--he was here. Pain rocketed through his head. He touched his face and then glanced at his fingers.
Blood.

Looking around, a huge room, noiseless and still, came into focus. Really old things that belonged in a museum rested on shiny, black pedestals, arranged like a giant chessboard.

Stumbling to his feet, he gulped a mouthful of musty air and gazed up. Most of the ceiling was covered with a gigantic five-sided window. An image of a half bird, half lion decorated the butterscotch-colored glass. Blake’s throat tightened as he stared at the same design that was on the wooden box under Mr. Mancuso’s desk. Amber light cast menacing shadows across eccentric antiques and foreboding statues.

“Welcome to my home,” a deep, syrupy voice boomed through the cavernous room.
 

Blake staggered backward. “Show yourself, Dragonbreath!”

“Dragonbreath?
Would your father approve of such name-calling?”

“Where are you?” Blake challenged. “I want to see your ugly face.”

A white pear-shaped urn with red leaves wobbled on a stand and then exploded.

“Big deal!
You can break a flower pot!” Blake slowly wove between the black columns.

“Ming Dynasty, fourteenth-century China. Priceless, I’m told.”

“Show your face! Or are you too chicken?”

Laughter echoed through the room, winding around the pillars like a snake scouting for prey. “You do amuse me, Blakemore Wyatt. However, relics don’t give orders.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a relic now--one of my trophies. I’ve taken, or rather assembled, a most extraordinary collection of authentic treasures from your world. Most have been replaced with perfect imitations. Your kind is easily fooled.”

“You don’t scare me!” Blake barked, feeling the hair stand up on his neck as he drifted backward. Scoping the room for an escape, he bumped into something big. He turned. A large, gold pedestal blocked his path. Squinting to read the engraved plaque, he swallowed hard. Blakemore Wyatt,
The
Last Sapphire Traveler. Behind the column, a shadow grew larger.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Blake whirled around.

Dagonblud stood, eyes piercing. His red jacket buttoned up to his chiseled jaw.

“I’m not gonna be the main attraction in your wacked-out museum.”

“You’re hardly worthy of even being displayed in my gallery.” He raised his brow. “However, you are the last of your family tree, except, of course, your sister.”

Stepping sideways, Blake knocked into another stand, smaller than the one meant for him. The shredded, soggy-looking Chronicle of the Rellium rested in a glass case. He gasped.

Dagonblud caressed the enclosure with his long fingers. “I thought you’d enjoy that spot next to the great chronicle.”

“Perfect.” He mumbled, gazing at the mangled text.
“Spending eternity next to my biggest screwup.”

“Let’s get on with it. I’m busy.” Dagonblud reached into his jacket and pulled out the black diamond. “I’m sure you won’t feel too much discomfort. Then again, I wouldn’t know.”

Blake thought quickly. Maybe he could break the glass, salvage whatever strength was left in the book, and then whack Dagonblud with one of these freaky souvenirs. He wiped sweat from his face and felt his hand tingle. Examining his palm, a colored image developed beneath the dried blood--the Sign of the Ages!

Dagonblud held out the black weapon, the facets shimmering in the dim amber light. He started to twist apart the halves but stopped when loud scratching echoed though the hall. He returned the diamond to his jacket and locked eyes with Blake. “In case your little mind was concocting a plan, know that escape is impossible.” He stomped through the huge room toward the disturbance.

Blake scanned the room for a weapon. He spotted a rock on display a few columns away and darted to its pedestal. Snatching the gray stone, he paused briefly to read the plaque: Neil Armstrong, First Moonwalk--1969. “Whoa.” He thumbed a jagged crevice.

The scratching intensified. He looked toward the sound and stuffed the rock in his pocket. Light streamed into the room, highlighting Dagonblud standing in a tall doorway.

Blake looked for a place to hide. He dashed behind a suit of armor. He glanced at the marker. Who was Genghis Khan?
 

A fidgety little man appeared under the arch mumbling apologies while bowing his head repeatedly.

Dagonblud lifted the man’s chin. “Ickbarr, you little flea, can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Yes, sir, I know, sir. It’s just that Nura flew off her perch and opened the mirror. I tried to catch her, but she shot past me into the grand assembly. Frankly, sir, I didn’t know Nura could leave her wooden state without your help.”

“She can’t! Where is she now?”

“I don’t know, sir. I really tried my best to catch her, sir.”

“Shut up, Ickbarr! If this was your fault, you’ll beg for the dungeon as punishment.” Dagonblud brushed past Ickbarr and disappeared.

Blake heard fast, heavy footsteps fade into the distance.

Ickbarr continued to babble, shuffling through the exhibit hall, dusting relics with the sleeve of his black coat.

Blake slinked around the armor, watching this bizarre person have a conversation with
himself
. He overheard something about a celebration and being overworked.

Blake glanced back at the doorway and sized up his chances of ditching the creep castle. Now was the time to make his break. He began his silent slither from column to column. The exit was about twenty yards away, just a quick end-zone dash. Piece of cake on the football field, but this was way more than just a game.

“Psssst.”

Blake whirled around. Ickbarr continued to dust and mutter.

“Above you,” a woman’s voice whispered intensely.

Blake looked up. A weird-looking creature was perched on a peg, partially hidden by a beam on the ceiling. Maybe it was a bird, but it had a lion’s head. Then his heart dropped. She was the same as the picture on the window overhead and the carving on the box. She was real and was talking to him.

“Stay out of sight and keep quiet.”

Blake obeyed and slid behind a pedestal, hunkered down like a soldier in enemy territory.

She landed next to his feet. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Her voice sounded sad. She glanced at the door. “Dagonblud will be back soon, and he’ll be looking for me.”

“Am I supposed to know you?” Blake asked.

She tilted her head slightly but didn’t speak.

“Whatever, ya don’t have to tell me.”

“I’m Nura.” She acted surprised by his question.

“Who?”

“Are you not Blakemore Wyatt?”

“Yeah, but I wish I was not Blakemore Wyatt.”

“Did Leopold not tell you about me?”

“We didn’t have much time to hang out. It’s been a train wreck since I touched that book over there.”

“Yes, I know. She’s never been so weak.”

“This Rat dude totally trashed her.” He paused. “Why do you care anyway?”

“I care more about the Chronicle of the Rellium than my own life.”

“Then why are you people trying to kill us?”

“Kill you? I’m one of you! I’m Nura Wyatt.”

“Like my name Wyatt?”

She nodded.

“But, you’re a--”

“I know.”

Blake shivered. How could this lion-bird thing somehow be related?

“Dagonblud made me this way.”

“Did you used to be a person?”

Nura nodded. “Two arms, two legs, long dark hair. I was once quite beautiful.”

“What happened?”

“Dagonblud used the black diamond to steal my power.”

“So he made you look like this?”

“Not exactly.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Connection to the Rellium gives me the power to manipulate matter into whatever form is necessary so I can protect Earth’s timeline. Dagonblud captured me during my transformation from a bird to a lion. He’s kept me this way for centuries.”

“Why don’t you change back?”

“He controls my powers here. We’re in Dagonblud’s world--the other side of the membrane.”

“This isn’t Earth?”

“No, Blake. Our scientists refer to this place as antimatter or dark energy. Dagonblud has absolute power here. Now he wants to use the black diamond to dominate your side of the membrane.”

Blake stared at her.
“My side?”

“Earth, our home.”

“Then why does he care about me?”

“He doesn’t. He wants your power.”

“I don’t have much of that anymore.”

“May I see your hands?”

Blake extended his palm. “Looking for this?”

She nodded. “You were marked with the Sign of the Ages when the Parabulls connected you to the Rellium.”

“Yeah, I remember touching the chronicle, then cruising over my school.”

“You have no idea the extraordinary powers you possess.”

“Then how can I change you back?”

“Regretfully, until Dagonblud is stopped, my place is here.” She glanced at his hand. “That ring around your finger once belonged to me. It’s your pledge to protect the Rellium.”

“Right.
Already messed that up.”

“We are judged by our scars, not our medals.”

 
Blake touched his head.
“Got a few of those.”

“That’s why I’m here to help.”

“You can start by getting me out of here.”

“Precisely my intentions.”
Nura glanced at the doorway. “We’d better hurry.”

“What about my sister?”

Nura didn’t answer.

“She’s okay, isn’t she?”

“We’re all in great danger. Dagonblud is perilously close to destroying Christopher Columbus’s place in history. The Parabulls could never repair such a catastrophic gap in the timeline. You, Blakemore Wyatt, are our last hope.”