فصل 08

CHAPTER 8

OUT THE WINDOW

“GOOD NIGHT, KIDS,” SAID NATALIE.

“G’night, Mom,” said Sarah and Aidan.

“Tomorrow,” said Tom, standing behind his wife in the hotel hallway, “I was thinking we might visit the—”

“Good night, Dad.” Gently closing the door, Sarah said to her brother, “Finally.”

Since leaving the Tower, Sarah and Aidan had spent more than eight hours waiting impatiently for a chance to have a closer look at the golden box. But their father, as always, had crammed the rest of the day with sightseeing, so by the time they’d eaten dinner and returned to the hotel, it was past ten p.m.

Sarah unslung the backpack, set it on her bed, and unzipped it. She lifted out the heavy box and held it up in the light, examining the newly formed seam, which ran around what she assumed was the top of the box about an inch from the edge.

“So this is like a lid, maybe?” said Aidan, touching the seam.

“Looks like it,” said Sarah.

“Are you gonna open it?” said Aidan.

“I guess so,” said Sarah.

“You don’t sound enthusiastic.”

“I’m thinking about the ‘death to thee’ thing.”

“Oh, now you’re thinking about that.”

“I just think we need to be careful, that’s all.”

“Meaning what?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Now, there’s a plan.”

“Shut up. I’m thinking.” Sarah studied the box. “The thing is, in the books, when they deal with starstuff, they wear gold suits.”

“Okay, then! I’ll just put on my gold suit.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying they’re very careful.”

“Maybe aluminum foil?” Aidan said. “We could wrap ourselves up.”

“It’s always gold.”

“So if Starcatchers found the box, they’d have known to wear gold. Right? Otherwise, death to thee.”

Sarah studied the box some more. “Okay,” she said, heading toward the dresser. “I’ll get a mirror. You get the curtain rod.”

“What?”

“Just get it.”

A minute later, the box was propped between two pillows on the bed. Aidan and Sarah were crouched on the floor. Sarah held the curtain rod; Aidan held the mirror up so she could see the box. Using the mirror, Sarah maneuvered the curtain rod so it was touching the lid.

“Get ready,” she said.

“For what?”

“For whatever happens.”

“I wish I had a gold suit,” said Aidan.

Her eyes on the mirror, Sarah gently pushed the rod against the side of the lid. It came up easily, pivoting on two internally mounted hinges. As the box opened, Sarah and Aidan both instinctively turned away, wincing, fearful of…

Nothing.

No blinding light, no sound. Nothing.

After a few silent seconds, Sarah and Aidan opened their eyes, rose to their feet, and cautiously peered into the box. They saw what appeared to be a second lid. It was also made of gold, but at its center was a small, exquisitely crafted five-spoked wheel. Next to the wheel was a circular opening about a half inch in diameter and a half inch deep, closed at the bottom.

“What do you think?” said Sarah.

Aidan studied the box for a moment, then said, “I think if you turn the wheel, you open that hole.”

“I think so, too. That way you can control how much comes out.”

“And not kill yourself,” said Aidan. “I hope.”

Sarah set the box down on her bed. She put her hand on the wheel, took a deep breath, and exhaled.

“Here goes,” she said.

She turned the wheel counterclockwise a quarter of a turn, then waited.

Nothing.

Sarah looked at Aidan. He nodded. She looked down and turned the wheel another quarter of a turn. Suddenly, the hole was glowing brightly, a warm golden color.

And the room was full of music.

Aidan jumped. “Do you hear that?” he said.

Sarah nodded. “Bells,” she whispered.

“Like a million of them.”

“Where’s it coming from?”

Aidan waved an arm. “Everywhere,” he said.

Sarah hugged herself. “Do you feel…different?” she said. “Like, kind of warm, but warm inside?”

“Yes!” said Aidan, smiling broadly. “I feel warm and…just good.”

“Better than good,” said Sarah, giggling. “Wonderful.”

She put her hand on the tiny wheel again.

“Sarah…” cautioned Aidan.

“Just a little more.” Sarah gave the wheel another quarter turn. Now the bells became a symphony, playing all around them and inside them.

“Oh my,” she said.

“Yeah,” said Aidan.

Sarah looked at the box.

“I want to touch it,” she said.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” said Aidan. But his tone was unconvincing; he, too, wanted to touch the source of this glorious feeling.

Sarah reached out her right hand and gently tilted the box. She held her left hand cupped next to the glowing hole. She had barely moved the box when what looked like a tongue of light flowed from it, enveloping Sarah’s hand as it flooded the room with a brilliant whiteness.

Aidan turned away, momentarily blinded. When the glare faded he turned back, blinking, waiting for his eyes to readjust. When they did, he froze.

Sarah was gone. The glowing box was still on the bed; the door was closed. But he saw no sign of his sister.

“Sarah!” he called, panic sweeping away the feeling of well-being. He dropped to his belly and looked under Sarah’s bed, then his own. Nothing. He jumped up, his eyes sweeping the room frantically.

Then he heard the giggle.

From directly overhead.

Aidan looked up to see his sister suspended in air, her back gently bumping the ceiling, a huge smile on her face.

“It was true!” she said. “The stories were true!”

For a moment, Aidan could only stare.

“You’re…flying,” he said.

“Yes! Yes, I am!” she said. She angled her head down slightly; the movement caused her to drift across the room. She held her hands out to keep from bumping into the far wall.

“Wow,” she said.

“What’s it feel like?” said Aidan.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Aidan went to the bed, hesitated, then gently tilted the box toward his cupped hand. Again, a brilliant light filled the room, and for a moment Aidan couldn’t tell what was happening. He felt the top of his head brushing against something and realized it was the ceiling. He looked down. The movement sent him into a very slow 180-degree midair rotation that ended with him upside down and vertical, as though he were standing on the ceiling.

“Whoa,” he said.

“Exactly,” said Sarah.

They spent several giddy minutes getting the feel of flight, seeing how the angle of their bodies affected their direction and speed, occasionally bumping into walls and furniture.

Then Sarah opened the window.

“Wait a minute,” said Aidan.

“If I’m going to fly,” said Sarah. “I want to fly.”

She swung her legs out and sat on the windowsill, looking down. Their room was on the fourth floor of the Cadogan; it looked down on a side street, which at the moment was deserted. The night air was cool and clear. A gentle breeze stirred Sarah’s hair.

“Here goes,” she said, slipping out of the window and into the night.

Aidan pushed off the far wall and flew to the window, grabbing the sill to stop himself from shooting through it. He stuck his head out and caught sight of Sarah as she swooped across the street, gaining speed, heading straight toward a parked car. Aidan was about to shout when she let out a little shriek and swooped upward, missing the car by inches and then gaining altitude rapidly until, seconds later, she was over the building on the other side of the street, making a soaring right turn and then swooping back toward Aidan.

“Come on,” she called.

Aidan swallowed hard and pulled himself through the window, willing himself to keep his eyes on his sister, not the street below. He angled his body left and, after a few wobbles, got himself aimed toward Sarah, who was now flying about a hundred feet in the air, heading toward the busy traffic of Sloane Street. She shot across the street and into what appeared to be a private park, above which she made a series of swoops and turns, periodically emitting squeals of pure happiness.

As he followed her across Sloane Street, Aidan hazarded a glance down and was horrified to see pedestrians, although at the moment none appeared to be looking upward. He flew more cautiously than his sister and had trouble getting near her, but finally she drifted to a stop, reclining dramatically in midair as though relaxing on an invisible sofa. Her eyes shone with excitement.

“Isn’t this fantastic?” she said.

“Yeah, fantastic,” said Aidan. “But maybe we should go back.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re flying over London, Sarah. Somebody might see us.”

“Nobody’s looking up here.”

“Um,” said Aidan, pointing. “I think that guy is.”

Sarah looked toward Sloane Street, where an elderly man had stopped on the sidewalk and was looking directly at them, shielding his eyes against the glare of a streetlight. As they watched he stopped a young couple and started gesturing insistently toward Aidan and Sarah.

“Uh-oh,” said Sarah. “Follow me.”

She swooped downward and in a few seconds flew the length of the little park. Aidan followed unsteadily, a little higher and slower. At the far end of the park he caught up with Sarah, now hovering behind a tree, peering through the foliage at the elderly man. He was still with the couple, who evidently had not seen Sarah and Aidan and wanted to move on. The man was arguing with them, still pointing toward the place where Sarah and Aidan had just been.

“Come on,” said Sarah.

She rose straight up, Aidan trailing. They were now high above the park. The elderly man was arguing with the couple; they were edging away from him. Sarah leveled off and shot back across Sloane Street toward the Cadogan. Aidan followed. He heard a shout and looked down.

The man had seen them again. Aidan looked right into his eyes. The man was pointing and yelling; a small crowd was gathering, looking up. Aidan looked forward and flew as fast as he could after his sister, who had just swerved around the corner into the side street, now flying quite low. He heard more shouts from behind but did not look back. As he flew into the side street, he looked toward the hotel room window but didn’t see Sarah. Assuming she was already inside, he flew toward the window.

“Aidan!”

His sister’s voice came from below. He looked down and saw her standing on the sidewalk. He heard yelling from Sloane Street.

“Come on!” he called to Sarah.

“I can’t!” she called back. “It wore off!”

Figures appeared at the end of the street. Aidan hung suspended in the air for a moment, uncertain, then swooped toward the sidewalk. He landed next to Sarah a little too hard. He stumbled, his sister catching his arm to keep him upright.

“People are coming,” he panted, pointing toward the end of the street.

“I see them,” she said. A half dozen people were running toward them now.

“What do we do? Run?”

“No—we just act calm and walk toward them. They didn’t get a good look at us, and they’re looking for people going the other way.”

Sarah started walking toward Sloane Street; Aidan joined her. The first of the runners—a young man—sprinted right past them, his eyes on the sky. Three more young men ran past, also looking upward, one of them holding up his cell phone, evidently shooting video. Next came the young couple, who hesitated when they saw Sarah and Aidan.

“Excuse me,” said the woman. “Did you see anybody just go past in the, um, in the air?”

“In the air?” said Sarah.

“Yes,” said the woman, embarrassed. “In the air.”

“Like, flying?” said Sarah.

“Yes!” said the woman. “Did you see them?”

“Of course not,” said Sarah.

The couple passed; Sarah and Aidan started walking again. On the sidewalk ahead another figure was approaching. Too late, Aidan saw who it was: the elderly man. Aidan turned his head away, but as bad luck would have it they were directly under a streetlight; the man had gotten a clear view of him. Blocking their path, he pointed a wavering finger at Aidan.

“You!” he said. “You were flying!” The man raised his voice to the others, now at the end of the block.

“Here they are!” he shouted. “I found them!”

“Come on,” said Sarah, grabbing Aidan’s arm. They sprinted past the man to the end of the street and turned left. They heard shouts but did not look back. Thirty seconds later, gasping for breath, they ducked into the Cadogan lobby. They strode briskly to the elevators and boarded one. As the doors closed they peered out anxiously, but there was nobody pursuing them.

“Man,” said Aidan, slumping against the side of the elevator.

“Wasn’t that great?” said Sarah, her eyes shining.

“Parts of it,” said Aidan. He tried to rise off the elevator floor and found that he could not. “Mine wore off, too,” he said.

“We’ll have to keep that in mind next time.”

“So we’re going to fly again?”

“Of course. Don’t you want to?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, the starstuff is amazing and everything, but I dunno if we should be messing with it.”

Sarah was about to answer when the elevator doors opened. They tiptoed down the hallway past their parents’ room. Sarah, grateful that she’d kept her key card in her jeans pocket, quietly opened the door to their room. Slipping inside, they immediately felt the warmth of the starstuff and heard the pleasant musical sound. Sarah went to the golden box on the bed and, somewhat reluctantly, turned the little wheel clockwise. The glowing hole went dark; the sound and the warmth went away. Both Sarah and Aidan suddenly noticed that the room was chilly. Cold air was pouring in through the open window.

Sarah walked toward the window to close it. As she reached it, she saw something just outside.

Then she screamed.