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  Chapter Twenty Two

  “Ha! Now, Gira Hakanebra, prepare to feel the enamel corroding power of…the Shadow Brush! Ha ha ha HA ha!”

  “No, Cavitarrus, it is you who shall fall. You’ve never uood…the…true power of…FRIENDSHIIIIP!”

  It was Sunday afternoon. I was lying on the couch, half asleep, while a rerun of Shikai Warriors: Jaws of Heaven pyed oV. I had no idea what the story was, but that was fine. You don’t need Shakespearean writing to justify pointy haired anime dudes fighting each other with giant toothbrushes.

  Ethan sat nearby, silently doodling on the sketom had bought for him along with the colored pencils he’d asked for. Mom and Dad were out running some b grownup errand, leavih ued access to the TV and the of whipped cream in our fridge. Now that my sugar high was fading and there was nothing good on, I was growing bored.

  “Your pque destroying powers are impressive,” said Lord Cavitarrus, “but you will never defeat me!”

  “That’s what you think! I have yet to show you my ultimate attack! Razorfloss Web of the Divine Mors! HYAAAAAA!”

  “N- No! Impossible! Such power!”

  My eyelids began to droop…

  “You have to choose what’s more important, Hea.”

  I jerked back awake with a snort that made Ethan gnce over at me. It had been a week since Ichabod had given me his ultimatum — betray my family or lose my job — and true to his word, he hadn’t told anyone about how I’d left Ethan alo Uncle Junk’s shop. As for what I was going to do…I was trying my best not to think about it.

  F my mind away from the stressful subject, I found my mind drawn to the masked man instead. I hadn’t seen him since Feverdream Field. That worried me. Not because I wanted him to show up again or anything, but because I had no idea what he to.

  Ask them about the farms.

  The show went to ercial, and I rolled onto my back to stare at the ceiling. What he’d said was haunting me almost as much as Ichabod’s threat. Farms? What did a farm have to do with me? It might have helped if he’d told me who I was supposed to ask. The only people I ied with, besides my family and friends, was the cil of Shnoob. Did they have any farms? That made a little sense, I guess. Kons have to eat just like anyone else, so I could see how farming and livestock might be something they’d have a hand in. But why would a masked psychopath with poisonous ughter care about that?

  Maybe he wants to use his ughter to poison our food supply, I mused. But no, that didn’t make seher. Even if the cil was in charge of farming, it wasn’t like we all got our food from the same pce. Mom and Dad bought groceries from the store, and Mom had a little vegetable garden out back. I’d hought about it, but that robably true for most of kon society.

  Maybe “they” weren’t the cil at all. Maybe “they” were somebody else entirely. But that just put me right back where I started. Who did I talk to enough that the masked man would associate me with them? Maybe…

  My stomach growled, chasing thoughts of mysteries and spiracies away. Never save the world on ay stomach, Dad always said.

  “Hey, Ethan,” I said. “Wanna go get ese?”

  He shook his head a drawing.

  “Oh.” I thought for a sed. “Hey, Ethan. Wanna go get a burger?”

  “No thanks,” he mumbled without looking up from his sketchbook.

  “Mmm. Hey, Ethan. Wanna go—”

  “Henry!” He finally looked up at me. “I just want to draw. If you want to do something, go without me.”

  “I ’t,” I grumbled. “You know what the cil will do.”

  “Who’s going to know?”

  “Ichabod’s probably staking the house ht now.”

  He looked at me for a few seds, then shook his head and sighed. “If I split the cost of a pizza with you, will you order one and leave me alone?”

  I sprang to my feet. “Ds fart over a thousand times per day?”

  “I…have no idea.”

  “Me her. But yes, I’ll leave you alone.”

  “Fine! I have ten dolrs in my room.” Grumbling to himself, he set his sketchbook down a upstairs. My eyes were immediately drawn to that sketchbook. From here, by the flickering light of the TV, I could make out some vague shapes and colors, but nothing specific. Curious, I walked over and picked it up.

  Backfire: The World’s Worst Superhero! the cover proudly decred. Beh the title icture of a muscur guy in brightly colored tights. His eyes were crossed and his hair was on fire. I smirked and turhe page.

  Backfire and his team were rag across town in the Backmobile — I snorted — to stop the insidious Professor Blunderbuss from blowing up The Great atalian Buffet. The drawings were pretty good. Way better than I could have done.

  “Don’t worry, Metropitown!” Backfire shouted, leaning his head out the window as he drove. “We shall save you!”

  He swerved around a er, nearly creaming an old dy. I chuckled. Fuy who never ughed, Ethan could be funny when he wao.

  “Slow down, Backfire!” yelled Lady Magnifit. “Yoing to kill somebody!”

  “Nonsense,” Backfire argued. “I’m the good guy!”

  “One must always follow the rules of the road,” said Slugthug, who took up the entire back seat. “Even if one is a superhero!”

  “If I see Juan, I’ll tell him that! Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m busy breaking the w!”

  I smiled as I turhe page again. This one showed the Backmobile flying towards a busy interse — and perched above it was Backfire’s nemesis. The Mother of Traffic Jams, Sce of Rush Hour: Red Light Roxanne!

  “Backfire, you o stop!” said Lady Magnifit as Roxaurned from green to yellow.

  “I have time!” Backfire argued.

  Roxanne ughed with malicious glee, her putrid yellow light gring down on the Backmobile.

  “Backfire, hit the brakes!” yelled Slugthug.

  “I make it!”

  Roxaurned red.

  The hree panels were dramatic closeups of the heroes’ faces, Lady Magnifit and Slugthug looking terrified while Backfire gred defiantly up at the evil mutant stoplight . He sped into the interse…I turhe page…

  The collision with the semi-truck took up the entire sheet of paper.

  “Ouch,” I whispered.

  The Backmobile was decimated. Flipped upside down, it skidded across the street until it plowed into a bus stop. I ged. Oddly violent for a silly ic, but okay. The page had nothing but gray, unfinished sketches. It looked like I’d gotten as far as Ethan had drawn. But in the inplete mess, I could make out Backfire dangling upside down, held in pce by his seatbelt. Lady Magnifit and Slugthug were…

  I almost dropped the ic.

  They were dead.

  “Hey!” My head snapped up just before Ethan yahe sketchbook out of my hands. He looked furious. “What’s wrong with you?”

  I held up my hands. “I was just looking.”

  “I didn’t give you permission to look! You…You…” I was shocked to see tears in his eyes. “This is private!”

  I looked at the notebook in his hand, then at him. “Ethan, are you okay? That ic…”

  “Shut up!” he screamed. Turning, he stormed up the stairs. “I ’t believe you, Henry!”

  I went up after him and grabbed him by the wrist. “Ethan, wait! Talk to me, okay? Whatever’s wrong, I want to help.”

  He turo gre at me, and I took a step ba shock. There was such a hurrie of emotions in his eyes that I was afraid I, being part emotion myself, would get sucked in.

  “I- I’m sorry,” I gasped, taking a step back.

  “You ’t help,” he said in the most venomous voice I’d ever heard. “And even if you could, I wouldn’t want you to!”

  “Ethan…”

  He smmed his door.

  — —

  Mom and Dad got home a couple hours ter, but her me han would answer when they called us to e down for dihey’d tried to find out what was wrong, but had eventually given up a us alohat was fine. I don’t think I could have eaten anything anyway. Not after seeing the look Ethan had given me earlier.

  I rolled over in bed, staring bnkly at the Three Stooges poster on my wall. I hadn’t treated him right at first, I admit that. But after I’d pulled him out of Feverdream Field, I had tried to ge. I’d actually wao be his friend. I still remembered the way he’d taken my hand at Uncle Junk’s store, and the tiny bit of joy he’d squeezed out for me. But somehow, by reading his ic, I had hurt him. Really hurt him. I didn’t uand why, but he saw what I’d done as some kind of betrayal. There was ohing I did uand, though.

  Whatever had been happeniween us, I’d just rui.

  I looked at the clock. Half past eight. What a rotten way to end my Sunday. Alone in my room, glooming it up while my former friend threity party down the hall.

  No. I sat up. I’d worked too hard to let it end like this. Not without a fight.

  Getting out of bed, I crept as quietly as I could down the hallway. Mom and Dad were downstairs watg an Adam Sandler movie like they did every Sunday — our shameful family secret. But I didn’t want them hearing me and trying to get into the middle of things. This was between me ahan.

  I stopped just outside Ethan’s door. I could hear him muttering something oher side, along with a weird droning hum, like he’d set up a bug zapper in his room.

  I knocked softly. “Hey, Ethan? I e in?”

  The muttering stopped, but the humming didn’t. I waited, feeling hopeful.

  “Go away,” he finally said.

  I sighed. “Listen, I just want to say that I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did that was s, but I won’t do it again. Promise.”

  Silence.

  “Are we good?” I asked. “Ethan?”

  “I said go away!” he told me again, louder this time.

  I scowled at the door, temper risie myself. He must have thought I’d left, because he started muttering again. The humming grew a little bit louder. Something tickled the bay brain when I heard it. Whatever he was doing, it sounded familiar in a way I couldn’t quite pce. Holding my breath so he wouldn’t hear me, I gently pressed my ear against the door.

  “Cogito et creo,” I could just hear him say. “Cogito et creo. Cogito et creo.”

  He was saying it in a weird sort of rhythm, like he was following the beat of a drum that I couldn’t hear. I furrowed my brow. What was he saying? It was weird, but the low, monotonous t he had going almost sounded like a…

  I froze.

  Oh, horseradish sauce!

  “Ethan!” I grabbed the knob and threw my shoulder against the door, crashing into rad’s old room. “Ethan, stop!”

  Ethan looked up at me in surprise. He was sitting cross legged on his bed, with a thick old book lying open in front of him. In his hands was the st thing in the world he should have been holding: McGus’ crystal spellhammer. I swore under my breath when I saw hhtly it was glowing. The vibrating hum was s now that it was making my hair stand on end. I reached for it — but I was too te.

  The spellhammer exploded with light.