The Gravity Keeper by Michael Reisman Page A

it?”
    â€œYes, Sir. I like power very much. But I also hate Ralfagon. I would gladly see that old fool dead.” He coughed. “On that note, Sir, I’m puzzled. Why didn’t you want Ralfagon killed yesterday?”
    The hooded figure swiveled his head to stare Mermon in the face. “Are you questioning my judgment, Veenie?”
    Mermon’s tiny black dot eyes managed to widen into larger black dots. “No, no, no, Sir. I was just…curious.”
    â€œCuriosity is a good thing, like onion soup. But too much onion soup makes your breath smell terrible. And too much curiosity can make your whole body smell terrible, if it causes you to be dead.”
    Veenie nodded carefully; it was a strange threat, but a threat nonetheless. “Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”
    The hooded figure waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m sure you are. Don’t worry about my plans for Ralfagon. I have reasons, I assure you.” The hooded figure continued to walk around Ralfagon’s stump, poking at it with gloved hands.
    Mermon roamed around the cluster of shorter stumps, soon passing near the kids’ hiding spot. Suddenly he squinted, his eyes shrinking even smaller (impossible as that seemed) while he scratched his slicked-back hair. “Sir? I…ummm…”
    The hooded figure uttered a loud, rude word. “Veenie,” he said, “I told you to go before we left!”
    â€œNo, Sir, not that. There’s something you should see.”
    The hooded figure didn’t bother to turn around. “If it isn’t the Book, I don’t care.”
    Mermon frowned; he scratched his head again. “Oh.” He paused. “But, Sir…”
    A loud sigh echoed out from the hood. “What, Veenie? What is so important that you would risk my wrath again?”
    Mermon Veenie pointed in the direction of the shrubs where Simon, Owen, and Alysha were hiding. “One of those bushes is trembling.”

CHAPTER 16
T HE H OOD C OMES O FF (AND S PARKS F LY)
    The bush Owen was hiding behind started to shake harder. Alysha and Simon grabbed him to make him stop trembling, but that only made their bushes rustle, too.
    â€œThere, do you see it, Sir? That’s odd behavior for bushes, don’t you think?”
    â€œOdd behavior for bushes? You need to start using a less toxic hair gel.” The hooded figure walked to Veenie and looked at the bushes. “Stupid hood ruins my depth perception.”
    With that, he pulled back the enormous hood. Shockingly, the hooded figure was really an un-hooded woman. A beautiful one with sharp green eyes and shoulder-length hair so brightly golden it almost shimmered.
    â€œMuch better,” the woman said. Without the hood, her voice was sweet and melodic. She squinted at the bushes. “Now let’s see…” She pulled up one sleeve of her black coat and glanced at a series of different-colored squiggles and shapes that were tattooed along her arm. They clearly weren’t normal, though. They were so vivid and almost three-dimensional that they seemed alive instead of just ink.
    â€œWhere did I put it?” she asked. “I tell you, Veenie, these tattoos are almost more trouble than they’re worth. Forget the strain of bearing them; simply finding them is a horror.” She frowned as she twisted her arm to check by her elbow, then switched arms and scanned the squiggles there. “Aha, here we go.”
    She stared at a vibrant yellow tattoo—a set of thick, sharp-pointed lines and small circles—that virtually pulsated on her shoulder. She spoke several bizarre words, but the process was nothing like the peanut buttery sound of the Orders’ formulas: it sounded more like the woman was speaking while chewing glass. The tattoo glowed brightly for an instant, and the whole field of bushes’ leaves crumbled into bitter-smelling ash. The woman winced but nodded in satisfaction.
    I dropped my jaw