20. ALL THE WAY HOME
"Let me go," I said, inching across the cold, hard floor like a cooling lava flow. Joke kicked me in the ribs and I froze. "It's not her, I swear."
"You said so yourself," said Mr Seth, returning from the storeroom with a thick rope of chain. He hunkered down and lashed the chain around my waist and legs, like a bola spider casting his web.
"Fisk told you the Zealtor was a she," muttered Mr Seth. "Very rare. Like a female Pharaoh or Pope. Operating right under our noses."
"But that doesn't mean -" I started.
"I'd picked her for a possible Witch, a while ago, I'll admit," said Mr Seth, almost to himself. "But she seemed so sickly and weak. I assumed she was an amateur. Like one of those housewives who dabble to fix the teacake prize at the show. She seemed totally harmless! But a Zealtor-Witch. Never in my worst dreams..."
"Don't hurt her,” I pleaded. “Let me come with you. Aaargh!"
Mr Seth yanked the knotted chain tightly against the leg of the snarling, beeping pinball machine, the links digging into my shins. "Not a chance," said the Smith. "Now bring me that padlock, Jokkum."
"My pleasure," said Joke. "We should throw him into the Lake. Let the Plesiosaur get him. He deserves nothing better."
"No!" I screamed, trying everything to free myself, willing my injured shadow to detach from my feet and attack. In response, my shadow flopped from my head like an oversized sombrero and limped at Mr Seth. Mr Seth's shadow whirled from his feet like a dervish and side kicked my shadow hard in the groin. I screamed, as my shadow crashed to the ground and lay curled up.
"It's not about what he deserves, Jokkum," said Mr Seth. "It's dangerous to deal out justice when you're angry. In time, you'll understand Paddy had nothing to do with the Wit- your father's demise. The fool was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"He murdered my father," shouted Joke, and kicked me again, this time in the stomach, winding me.
"You are wrong, Jokkum. But there's no point arguing about it now," grunted Mr Seth, jerking Joke away from me by the scruff of his neck like a mother cat. "Your father's fate was sealed when he swore allegiance to Vorr. She's a war Goddess, and does not forgive failure. Even if the Lake-monster hadn't taken your father, She would have had his guts for garters."
"Dad would have lived, if Paddy hadn't held him down. He was defenceless."
"Nonsense," snorted Mr Seth. "Your father was trying to kill Paddy, and nearly succeeded. Hardly innocent. Paddy had no idea that monster was down there. Nor did I, until I broke the door at the bottom of the Lake and felt it coming for me. If you want to blame someone, blame me."
"I hate you both," said Joke, starting to sob.
"Irrelevant," said Mr Seth. He turned me over, looping more chain around my chest and pinning my arms to my side. "What matters now is destroying the thing that's killing Quakehaven. The Zealtor started this. No-one would be dead if it weren't for her, including your father."
Without another word, Joke stomped his feet, spun on his heels and ran out of Arcadia, slamming the screen-door behind him.
"Poor lad," said Mr Seth. "I hope he's OK. The Zealtor is on the move. The streets aren't safe."
"Please let me go. Mr Seth," I begged. "I'm your Novice."
"And a good one you are, too," said Mr Seth sadly, then flipped me onto my stomach. "I'm sorry it's come to this Patrick, but there'll be time for apologies later. Know now that I must do this. No boy can be expected to stand by idly while his mother is slain."
And with that, Mr Seth disappeared in an explosive blur of red and silver.
"No!" I screamed and bucked pointlessly. There was nothing I could do. I was chained to a psychotic pinball machine with orders to attack if I moved. I was in a closed games arcade in a converted boat shed on a deserted pier far from the nearest house. And my shadow was crippled! My best friend was sure I had murdered his father. And Mr Seth was on his way to slay my Mum. It was hard to see how things could be worse!
Something thudded heavily into the pylon under Arcadia's floor. The pier creaked and shook, and I felt the room tilt slightly forwards and to the left. The sea-monster - Joke had called it a Plesiosaur - was still down there somewhere, in the lake beneath the pier. And it seemed to know I was there.
Panic surged up and down my spine as I thought of Mum lying helplessly in bed as Mr Seth swept into her bedroom with death in his eyes. I forced myself to take deep, slow breaths. I pulled in my abdominal muscles, and lifted my torso and neck up a few centimetres. I scanned the room, scouring for a spirit willing to help. With my shadow immobilised a metre from my head, I couldn't project far. Most of the games were up the other end of the arcade and were either out of range, or too frightened of Kissy to help. Nothing inhabited the space but an old table with a sheet over it. Not one sign of anything with a spirit.
I lifted my head again, closed my eyes and let my mind wander over to the pinball machine. It was reciting Mr Seth's instructions over and over: "Do not let the boy escape. Do not fall for his tricks. Do not hurt the boy, unless he tries to escape. Protect the boy. Do not kill the boy." But there was something simmering beneath the surface. Something unstable, chaotic - something a Smith could use. I inhaled and held my breath, pushing my mind deeper, through the mantra, and into the machine's deepest thoughts. Something terrible had happened to the machine. Beneath the anger, other emotions leached. Loneliness and guilt. Still holding my breath, I burrowed even deeper:
"Not too old. They should have fixed her, not me. Star of the 1972 Houston Games Exhibition. Reduced to this. No dignity. Puckless, but easily replaced. She's not a workbench. How dare they sit on her and eat chips. Her timbers will rot under that sheet. Her surface will scratch. ImissImissImiss..."
The sheet! He was talking about the table under the sheet. There was a second thud against the pylon, and the creaking of tired timbers. Arcadia pitched further over to the left and Kissy and I slid across the wooden floor with it.
"ThingInTheLake needs to stop," thought the pinball machine. "Must not hurt my Penelope. She will warp in the water. Do not let the boy escape; do not hurt the boy, unless he tries to escape. Do not kill the boy. Protect the boy from intruders."
Air exploded from my mouth and the chanting stopped. I took a risk. "Hey Kissy," I shouted. "I can help Penelope. But you've got to let go of the chain first."
"Do not fall for his tricks," said Kissy, apparently unsurprised to be in telepathic conversation with his ward.
"It's not a trick, Kissy," I said. "That thing. The ThingInTheLake. It needs to stop or the pier will collapse. Penelope will warp in the Lake."
Kissy beeped and jangled with anger.
The Plesiosaur slammed into the pylon for the third time and Arcadia tilted further, its corrugated green roof scraping against the weatherboard walls. One of the newer games at the other end of the arcade skidded diagonally across the floor, and crashed out through the glass side doors into the Lake with a hiss.
"No!" hissed Kissy. I took my chance.
"Penelope's slipping, Kissy," I cried. "The Thinginthelake - the intruder - will get me. We have to help her. You have to protect me." Then, holding my breath again, I mind-pushed Penelope.
As she slid quietly across the room, Penelope was unceremoniously unveiled. She’d seen better days. But, for an air hockey table, she was fairly attractive!
"No!" repeated Kissy. I could feel his agitation vibrating up the chain. "Do not let the boy escape. Do not fall for his tricks."
"We're losing her," I cried, and thrust the air hockey table further away. Penelope slammed into the door. Fissures appeared in the glass and spread. "She will warp," I cried. "And her face will be scuffed with rocks, on the Lake bed, unless you do something about the monster. The intruder!"
Things accelerated and began to happen all at once. The Plesiosaur smashed into the pylon for the fourth time. The glass walls shattered, and Penelope plummeted into the Lake.
Plesiosaur's crocodilian h
ead broke through the Lake's surface, his jaws slavering hungrily. Kissy plunged into the water after Penelope, releasing the chain, and went for the monster. The machine whirred to life, its slingshots, solenoids, bumpers, switches, gates, stoppers, targets and flippers, all buzzing beneath a wall of soft rock. The machine screeched and shot off a volley of white-hot pin-balls directed at the monster's head. Moments later, the furious creature slammed into the pylon for a fifth time. The pylon gave out.
I skitter-rolled out of the sinking arcade, smashing my head on the side of the door.
I was no Houdini! Even if I'd been able to loosen the chains, there was still the padlock to deal with. And by the time all these thoughts had fluttered through my dull skull, I was lying weighted to the Lake floor about 15 feet down in the pitch dark, drowning.
"Sorry, Mum," I thought to myself as things began to slow down. I hadn't been able to save Mum from Mr Seth. Maybe Mum, Dad and I would be together soon on the other side. Smiling, I fell unconscious and died.