The Curse of the King by Peter Lerangis Page A

too—Cassius!”
    â€œShakespeare,” Torquin said. “From Julius Caesar . The ‘lean and hungry look.’”
    â€œI can’t believe you know that,” Cass said.
    â€œTorquin with Omphalos now, head of Karai,” Torquin barreled on. “Omphalos gave jet to Torquin. Slippy—nicejet.” He pointed to the leather bag he’d dropped on the ground. “In case meet Massa, supposed to use meds . . . injections. Pah! Crowbar easier.”
    â€œSo wait, you were here to get Brother Dimitrios?” Aly asked.
    â€œNo!” Torquin replied. “Orders to get you back. Meds just in case.”
    â€œBack to where?” Cass asked. “Where is the KI now?”
    â€œCan’t tell,” Torquin replied.
    â€œWho is the Omphalos?”
    â€œDon’t know,” Torquin said.
    I took Torquin aside, far from any potentially listening Massa ears, and explained our whole story—Aly’s healing, the fused shard, the plan to let the Massa kidnap us. He listened carefully, grunting and frowning as if this were a crash course in advanced calculus.
    As he looked over the unconscious Massa, his eyes welled up. “So Torquin made big mistake . . .”
    â€œThey’ll wake up,” Aly said. “We can salvage the plan.”
    â€œProfessor Bhegad would be mad at Torquin!” The big man pounded his fist into his palm. “Missing Professor Bhegad. Very very m-m-much . . .”
    Cass looked aghast. “You’re not going to cry, are you? Maybe you’ve been reading too much Shakespeare?”
    â€œWe all miss him, Torquin,” Aly said. “But before you get too upset, let’s figure a way out of this.”
    â€œCome with us,” Cass said.
    â€œHe just drove Dimitrios into the dust,” Aly said.
    Cass shrugged. “Maybe he can stow away? Or follow us with Slippy?”
    â€œWe can’t let our plan fall apart,” I said.
    â€œNo. Your lives most important.” Torquin scrunched up his brow, looking at the unconscious Massa. He took a couple of locomotive breaths, like a bull. Closing his eyes, he held the crowbar high over his head. “Do it.”
    We looked at each other, baffled. “Uh, do what?” I said.
    Beads of sweat had formed at the edges of Torquin’s forestlike beard. “Before Massa wake up,” he said, “you knock out Torquin.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
S LIPPING A WAY
    I WASN’T EXACTLY expecting Brother Dimitrios to break out into a Greek dance, but I thought he’d be happy to see Torquin flat out on the ground.
    Instead he wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, shaking his head in disbelief. “I thought we’d already taken care of that ape.”
    If only he’d known how hard it had been to knock out Torquin. The guy’s head was as hard as granite. So I, Jack McKinley, swung the crowbar like a cleanup hitter. With a loud craaack , I whupped him so hard upside the head that he flew through the air like a rag doll. My brave action caused Aly to swoon. She declared at the top of her lungs that Marco was a distant memory. Because of my own awesomeness.
    I hope you don’t believe that.
    Truth was, I couldn’t possibly hit Torquin. None of us had the stomach to do the dirty deed. He may have been crude and weird, but he’d been our friend and protector. Sort of. So we finally convinced him to use the meds in his black bag. One of them was a tranquilizer that got the job done in a few seconds. And out he went.
    Dimitrios reached inside the minivan. “I suppose I should take care of him permanently,” he grumbled.
    â€œNo!” we all shouted at the same time.
    â€œPlease,” Aly said, “leave him alone and we promise we won’t resist going with you.”
    â€œTorquin is harmless,” I quickly added. “Now that the Karai Institute has been destroyed, he’s just . . . deluded.