When he had finished reading about the Supremes on that day, he tore all these pages and stuffed them in his pockets before giving the book back to Miss Putin. The questions troubling him now were, “What if someone already had suspicions that he was the Anonymous?” and “Why did the Finch betray his grandfather and all those other magician scientists?” So many stressing questions left him uneasy. If only he had gotten rid of the potion and never gone looking for the Finch maybe all this would not be happening. If only he had not gulped down all the contents of that potion! So many questions in his head were carrying the words “If” and “only”. The only way for things to get back to normal, he thought, was to put an end to all this madness.
*
Brendan was greeted by the doorbell when he reached the foot of the stairs. He was ready for school and he was not feeling like breakfast. He wondered who could be at his door at eight
‘No!!’ Owen shouted out of irritation. He turned to Brendan, ‘I didn’t quite understand what kind of language they were talking about, it wasn’t important to me anyway but..,’ his eyebrows helped him form a frown of suspicion, ‘…where did you hear the people talking about it, Brendan?’ he asked him.‘I… I heard some two guys talking about it and I just got curious. Anyway, how is your father taking the boycott of his book?’ he changed to another subject.‘He’s a broken man, but he’ll be fine,’ answered Owen. ‘He says the world will thank him one day because of something he’s currently working on.’‘Do you know what he’s working on?’ Brendan asked.‘He never allows me into his lab. He says he will when I turn nineteen.’‘Oh, man…when will she stop?!’ Simon’s expression turned into disappoint
‘Why…who…’ the last word he breathed out was like the last air in a punctured wheel. He knew it was a challenge, a dare. But a dilemma had been set before him by this girl. If he refused her invitation to come to the Dance, he would prove himself a coward. If he accepted, still, people would think that he and Samantha were dating, and the last thing he needed was attention: the once poor orphan turned millionaire now dating the daughter of a millionaire tycoon.He looked back at her. She was smiling, sinisterly, quite shrewdly, like theywere playing poker and she had the winning hand.‘Okay, fine,’ he conceded with the wave of a hand. ‘I’ll be there. But if it starts to get boring, I’ll…’‘You’ll leave, I know; me too.’ The bell for class rang and she stood up to leave.‘And, Sam…’‘Yes..?’‘I don’t want you to th
Brendan tried to flush these thoughts out by turning his refuge to homework. He spent one-and-a-half hours on Biology and two hours on Math. As soon as he was finished, he threw the books away and looked at the time; it was five-thirty and he only had two hours to prepare for the Dance. He showered and picked out a black tuxedo from his wardrobe and he sprayed himself with one of his colognes. Confident that he was ready, he walked up and down the living room. He glanced at the time. The time was six-thirty-five. He wondered what could have been keeping Todd. No sooner had he thought about this had he heard the honking of his car.‘Supper before you leave, sir?’ Miriam asked him.‘No, there’s food where I’m going.’She curtsied and left.Todd was beside the door of the backseat of the car. The Bentley was remarkably big and beautiful. It had classy thin tires and silver rims and it was beaming even in the dark.Todd opened
Brendan looked around and noticed that no one was even paying attention to them. He sighed, then said, ‘Why not?’ He placed his hands on her hips and she hung her arms right around his shoulders and they began to sway sideways in dance. It took him a while to fall comfortably and coordinately into this routine, but with Samantha’s patient and giggling help, he soon got the hang of it. Brendan looked over at the supervising teachers. They had turned their attention on them now. Mrs. Cooke had a hawk’s eye locked tight on Brendan, like a sports coach that was waiting for any one of her players to drop the ball so she could blow her whistle and start cussing him out.‘Why has Simon grown so cold?’ Samantha asked Brendan while they danced.‘It’s because of you,’ he answered. ‘He’s convinced that you ruined his life.’‘I can’t deny that but…why can’t he be like you?&rsquo
There was great panic in the hall.‘Sparrow! Price! Price!’ Mr. Benson and Mrs. Cooke called out.Brendan’s hunch was telling him that this was Mr. Price’s doing. There was no one else Brendan knew in that room that had made a deal with the witch besides himself and Mr. Price. What’s to say that Mr. Price owed the Finch some human skin, or liver and Mr. Sparrow was the unfortunate candidate for the sacrifice?So much noise was vibrating through the hall, students jittery and disturbed and their eyes searching each other for an explanation of what the cause of the power cut might have been. They would all have gladly run out, if their feet were not frozen where they stood, and Mrs. Cooke’s yelling only made the situation seem more ominous.‘Quiet, quiet everyone!’ Mrs. Cooke silenced the students. It took ten minutes to have everyone completely quiet. ‘Right…has anyone seen Mr. Sparrow or Mr. Price anywh
‘Don’t tell me you want me to join your clubhouse?’‘I wouldn’t call it that but, how did you know?’‘It’s becoming a habit of so many Supremes nowadays.’‘And?…what’s your answer?’‘You almost blew out my eardrums with that kettle boiling thingy.’‘Oh, sorry about that. Phantoms can create not only visual illusions but auditory ones too.’‘I don’t care about what you can or cannot do. I’ll give you the same answer I gave the others; Hell no! I’m not so base as to join a serial killer fraternity.’‘You don’t understand, Brendan. We need all hands on deck if we’re to execute the Dawn, especially a Supreme as promising as yourself.’‘What is the Dawn?’ Brendan asked him.‘The Supreme revolt, and we’ve already begun to rally the others to join our cause.’
‘Sir..?’ It was Miriam knocking on his door.‘What is it?’ he asked her, raising his head up to face the door, still half trapped in his maze of unanswered questions.‘I brought you dinner, sir,’ she answered in a low voice.He withheld his response for a while, then said, ‘Bring it in,’ he mumbled the answer from his lips like each word had the potential of causing a toothache.There was the turning of the doorknob then she came in, a big silver tray in her hands. She pulled a small table from beside his mirror and put it in front of him and then she placed the tray on it.‘I thought I did tell you there was food where I was going?’‘Of course you did, sir, but I just thought there would not be enough.’He sighed, ‘Very well then.’She curtsied and headed for the door.‘Brendan.’He chuckled, ‘That’s a surprise.&rsquo
‘I see my technique worked,’ she said half grinning. She was in her usual funeral clothes and she did not look a day older.‘What technique?’ he asked in surprise, still viewing her domain in puzzlement.‘Telepathy of course. And they said Phantoms are the only ones who can do it, but theirs is more pathetic and terrifying.’He put the tip of his finger in his ear, ‘Tell me about it.’She turned her gaze at him. ‘You’ve experienced it?’‘Yeah, before I fought him.’‘You fought a Phantom and walked out of the fight alive?’ She seemed more than intrigued.‘I’m sure you’re familiar with him. He’s one of your pets…Jack Price.’‘A Demon Phantom too?’ Her expression changed to perpetual astonishment.‘I thought we were superior?’‘Of course we are; you just have to know how to be super