Spell Robbers (8 page)

“Gentlemen,” Agent Taggart said. “It’s time to get you two squared away, and then I’ll introduce you to your trainer.”

Ben and Peter followed her to a supply room, where she loaded their arms with black uniforms, sheets, and gray wool blankets. After that, she led them downstairs into the basement. It was a large single room with a low ceiling, and it smelled like popcorn. White square columns marched down the basement’s center. There was a sitting area around a large TV, and an old, wrinkled pool table. Ben figured the space had probably been used by the church’s youth program, but now served as the barracks. Metal-framed beds lined the walls on either side. Agent Taggart led them down the rows to two beds at the far end.

“These will be yours,” she said. “Men are downstairs, women are upstairs.”

“Okay,” Ben said.

“Drop your things,” she said. “You can make your beds later.”

Ben and Peter dumped their stuff on their beds and followed Agent Taggart back upstairs. They went to the training room, and in spite of his resistance to being in the League, Ben took an excited step toward the door as Agent Taggart pressed the buzzer.

They went inside, and just like before, all the actuation had stopped.

Agent Taggart checked something on her phone. “I need Agent Lambert, please!”

The girl Ben had seen earlier, the one with the blue-and-black hair, came toward them, and Agent Taggart ushered the three of them back out into the hall.

“Yes?” the girl said, eyeing Ben and Peter sideways.

“Agent Lambert, these are our newest recruits. Just detached today.”

“Welcome.” She smiled.

“This is Ben, and this is Peter. They were with Dr. Hughes at the university.”

“That class we’ve had under surveillance?” Agent Lambert asked.

“Yes,” Agent Taggart said. “So they’ve had some rudimentary training. I’m entrusting you to pick up where Dr. Hughes left off, and fix any mistakes she may have made.”

It bothered Ben to think that the League had been spying on their science camp. Like the detaching, and the drafting, the League seemed to think it could do whatever it wanted.

Agent Lambert nodded. “Understood.”

Agent Taggart checked her phone again. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I must go prepare for Mr. Weathersky.”

“He’s coming here?” Agent Lambert seemed to react with the same surprise that Agent Spear had.

“Yes. He’ll arrive early tomorrow. Now get to work.” With that, Agent Taggart left.

Agent Lambert watched her until she’d rounded a corner, and then she turned to Ben and Peter. “Okay, when there aren’t any agents around, call me Sasha.”

“But …” Peter said. “Aren’t you an agent?”

“Junior agent. I’m more like you than them.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “But when it comes to actuation, I’m better than any of them. Which is why they have me training you two.”

This girl had an even bigger ego than Peter. “Who is Mr. Weathersky?”

“He’s the head of the Quantum League’s North American Division.” Sasha tipped her head. “He’s also one of the few men on the planet who can handle Class Three actuations. You know what
that
means, right?”

“Agent Spear explained it,” Peter said.

Sasha nodded. “I like Spear. A lot more than Taggart.”

“Does Mr. Weathersky come here often?”

“No,” Sasha said. “I’ve never even met him. Whatever you guys have gotten yourselves into, it must be bad.”

SASHA
led them to a separate, smaller room to begin their training. “You’re not ready for the Big Top yet.”

“Big Top?” Ben asked.

“The large training room. We’ll start you off in here first, and see what you can do.”

Thick padding covered the walls, ceiling, and floor of the room. It had obviously seen many, many actuations. Burn marks, ragged holes, and water stains marred the padding as well as the cinder blocks peeking through.

“Let’s start with some basics. What can you guys do? Peter?”

“With or without augmentation?”

“Without.” Sasha put her hands on her hips. “Of course.”

Ben looked at the floor. He knew what his answer would be when she asked him, and he dreaded it.

“Mostly Class One,” Peter said. “I can move small objects. I’ve attempted some Class Two, but haven’t had much success.”

“Much?” Sasha raised an eyebrow. “Or any?”

“Any,” Peter said.

“That’s okay.” Sasha bobbed her head. “Class One is where we all start. What about you, Ben?”

Ben scratched the edge of the bandage on his head. “Nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

Ben frowned at his chest. “I can’t actuate anything on my own.”

Peter spoke up. “You should see him with augmentation, though. He can do Class Two actuations in his sleep. He shot a lightning bolt at one of the Dread Cloaks.”

“Really?” Sasha touched her chin with one hand and cupped her elbow with the other. “Targeted lightning is pretty advanced, even with augmentation. You’re sure you can’t actuate without it?”

“I’ve tried,” Ben said.

“That doesn’t make sense to me. To do what you do …” She paused. “Maybe it’s not the augmentation you need.”

“What do you mean?” Ben asked.

“Maybe you just need a Locus.”

“A what?”

“A Locus. A mental focal point to help you form the actuation. Some of the greatest Actuators in history have used them. Think of the classic image of a wizard.”

“Hold on.” Ben held up his hands. “You’re not suggesting a wand, are you?”

Peter grinned. “Abracadabra.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sasha said. “You’d be laughed out of the League. A wand is completely impractical. But we may need to find you something that
will
work. Something small that you can tuck away in a pocket and hold on to if you need it.”

“Okay.” Ben still had doubts. “I guess it’s worth a try.”

“Good. I’ll be right back. Wait here.”

She left the room, while Peter and Ben remained, seated on the floor.

Peter rolled his gaze around the room. “Can you believe this? And that’s not a rhetorical question. I mean,
can
you believe this?”

“Yes. But I don’t think I really believed it until I saw my mom. She didn’t know me. At all.” The memory charged at him hard, but Ben held it back by reminding himself of the deal he had made with Agent Spear. “What they did to us was wrong.”

“You saw the Dread Cloaks.” Peter leaned close. “These are the good guys, Ben.”

“Are they?”

“Yes. They are.”

Ben scratched at his bandage. “This thing itches like crazy.”

“Poole’s the one that hit you.” Peter sat back. “The League saved you.”

“Hmm. Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

Sasha came back into the room. “Here we go.” She carried a small cardboard box that rattled as she sat down. “These are some things the League has collected and used in the past if someone needed a Locus. Look through it and see if anything grabs you.”

Ben took the box in his lap and peered inside at an odd assortment of objects. There were toys, mostly metal soldiers, large marbles, crystals like the ones that hung from chandeliers, dice, magnets, balls, and other stuff. Ben rummaged through it.

“See anything you like?” Sasha asked.

“Nah.” But then Ben spotted a curious rock. It was flat, polished smooth with rounded edges, in the shape of a long oval that fit nicely in the palm of his hand. In the middle it had a spiral fossil. Some kind of snail shell. Ben looked at it for a few moments and folded his fingers around it, gripping it in his fist. “This. I like this.”

“Why that?”

Ben opened his fist and bounced the rock in his palm. “I like the weight. And the fossil shell kind of makes me think of actuation. Like a thought spiraling out from me.”

“Sounds good.” Sasha took the box and leaped to her feet. “Let’s try it.”

She took Ben to one side of the room, and positioned Peter behind them.

“Let’s go for something simple,” she said. “What were you particularly good at with the augmentation?”

“Rain,” Peter said from behind them. “He made a rain cloud his first day.”

Sasha looked at Ben.

He nodded.

“Rain it is,” Sasha said. She gestured to the area in the middle of the room. “When you’re ready.”

Ben held out the Locus. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Imagine the stone is a lens, and your thoughts are rays of light passing through it. Or think of that fossil. Imagine your thoughts hitting the stone, and spiraling out from it.”

Ben tightened his grip around the Locus, the rock warming up to match the temperature of his hand. He closed his eyes, and summoned the thoughts he always had to actuate rain. He saw the atoms, he combined them, he collected them, and a water vapor formed. He condensed it to where it formed a cloud. He opened his eyes.

Nothing. Nothing but a padded room and two people looking at him, expecting him to do something he didn’t think he could do.

“Try again,” Sasha said. “The Locus is an extension of you. It will work.”

Ben’s sigh was half growl. He closed his eyes again, and went through the same rain thoughts. But this time, he held the Locus out in front of him and imagined his thoughts passing through it. He squeezed his hand tightly around the stone. Tight enough he worried about how fragile it might be. Tight enough that his arm started to quiver after a few moments. But he kept his thoughts flowing, from his mind to the rock, through the spiral, radiating outward in waves.

“Open your eyes, Ben,” Sasha said.

Ben opened them.

A small cloud churned in front of him. A cloud just like those he had made before.

“Nice,” Peter said behind him.

Ben watched the cloud, and then looked at the Locus in his hand.

“Plenty of Actuators use them,” Sasha said. “It’s just a mental trick, really.”

“A trick that worked,” Ben said.
He had actuated
. It still felt like just another kind of augmentation, but that didn’t matter. He could actuate now,
outside
Dr. Hughes’s lab.

The rest of the training session went smoothly. He and Peter took turns demonstrating what they knew. Ben created snow, rain, fire; all the things he’d been able to do with Dr. Hughes’s equipment, he could now do with his Locus. Peter performed his Class One actuations easily, but when he tried Class Two actuations like Ben, he couldn’t muster any to completion.

“Maybe it’s just the way you learned how to do it,” Sasha said. “Your mind is used to augmentation. Do you want to try a Locus, Peter? It might help you.”

Peter scowled. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Ben asked.

“I’m sure.” Peter wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “I’ll get it on my own.”

Ben looked at the stone in his hand. “You’re saying I’m not?”

Peter didn’t answer.

“Not bad, boys,” Sasha finally said at the end of the session. “Better than I was expecting. You’ll be ready for the Big Top sooner than I thought. But not quite yet.”

That evening, Sasha took Ben and Peter to the dining room. There were four round tables, each with four chairs, and far fewer agents and trainees than they had seen practicing in the Big Top that day. A few silver buffet servers sat on a table against one of the walls. Sasha led them to one end of the table, where they picked up plates, silverware, and napkins.

“Where is everybody?” Peter asked.

“Gone home.” Sasha lifted the first hinged lid, releasing a cloud of steam. “Mmm. Pot roast. This is actually pretty good.”

“Home?” Ben asked. His mom would be getting home about that time.

“Yeah. Some agents have families, some don’t.” Sasha dished up. “It’s mostly only recruits and junior agents that live at headquarters.” She lifted the lid of the next server. Mashed potatoes. “These are from a box, just so you know.”

Ben helped himself to some of the pot roast. “But, what about being detached?”

“That’s just when you’re recruited,” Sasha said. “After you’re an agent, you have more options. You start a new life.” The third server held the gravy. Sasha took the ladle and stirred in the skin that had formed over the top.

“Were you detached?” Ben asked. “When they recruited you?”

Sasha looked up at the wall, then let the silver lid fall with a loud clang. “Yup.”

After the servers came a bowl of salad and some rolls. Sasha grabbed a handful of salad, literally, with her hand. She left Ben and Peter and went to one of the tables.

Peter tipped his head toward Ben, his voice a murmur. “I don’t think she wants to talk about it.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that,” Ben said.

They both finished dishing up their plates and joined Sasha.

“Listen,” Ben said. “I didn’t mean to —”

“It’s not a big deal.” Her knee jackhammered under the table. “Really, don’t worry about it. It’s just the way it is. For all of us.”

“Okay.” But that didn’t mean it was right. Ben reached for the salt.

“Personally,” Peter said, “I’ve been wishing my parents would just forget about me for a while now. So this is perfect.”

“Good for you, Class One,” Sasha said.

Peter’s mouth closed and his face flushed. Ben got mad. There wasn’t any reason to embarrass or hurt Peter, even if he was going off when he shouldn’t. Ben was about to speak up when Sasha closed her eyes and shook her head.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t right. I’m sorry.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Let’s just finish eating. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ben and Peter said at once.

After dinner, they said good-bye to Sasha and joined the other male recruits and junior agents downstairs. The TV was on, and a couple of guys were trying to play pool in spite of the saggy table. Ben and Peter were introduced to everybody, watched some TV, and before long it was time for bed.

Ben lay awake for a while, hands folded behind his head. He couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking about his mom. How she’d come home to an empty apartment, make who-knew-what for dinner, and after that she would have … Then it occurred to him. What she
wouldn’t
be doing.

She would not be packing his lunch for the next day.

With that thought, Ben felt like something had jumped on his stomach. He kept himself from making any sounds, but he couldn’t stop the tears or the pain. This was wrong. Peter was wrong about the League. They might be better than the Dread Cloaks in some ways.

But that didn’t make them the good guys.

Morning started with breakfast in the same dining room, a solid mass of scrambled eggs in one server, a pile of very thin, almost translucent bacon in the other. There was juice, milk, and coffee, and a toaster you had to stand in line to use. Sasha sat with Ben and Peter, her sleek black hair pulled into a braid, the blue streak peeking in and out of it. She didn’t say much, and Ben didn’t know if it was because she was still upset, or if she just wasn’t a morning person.