House of Secrets

Chapter 22

“Jonathan! Jonathan!” Alyssa ran into the kitchen, waving Savage Warriors. Nellie was close behind. Alyssa was momentarily silenced by the sight of Will, propped up on the kitchen table with some pillows, playing Jonathan’s PSP.

“What?” her brother asked.

Jonathan sat next to Will. The pilot’s skin was sickly and pale, but he looked happy. “We’re relaxing,” Jonathan said. Then, to Will: “Get him!”

“Oh!” Will yelled. “How do I get him?”

“Do you really think it’s a good idea for him to play . . . Assassin's Creed: Bloodlines?” Alyssa asked.

“He likes it! Gaming is good for people in pain. What’s it called? Tempur-Pedic?”

“Therapeutic.”

“Whatever.”

“Give me that.” Alyssa snatched the PSP from Will and turned it off.

“I beg your pardon!”

“Jon, you need to preserve the batteries in this thing.”

“Why?”

“We may need them. And how about you, Will? How are you feeling? Still think you’re in France?”

“I’m not sure where I am, Miss Walter.”

“I have an idea.”

Alyssa opened Savage Warriors to page 17.

“Listen: ‘They came forth from the forest then, seven men. Born majestic but transformed by time and blood into rootless killers. They rode on great steeds in armor that covered them as casts of steel. They were the Savage Warriors, who lived to sow mayhem and reap plunder. They killed men quickly . . . and women specially.’ Remind you of anyone?”

“Yeah, the dudes who just almost murdered us!” Jonathan said.

“That’s not all. I knew those warriors seemed familiar. Their leader in the book . . . his name is Slayne.”

“Like the guy whose face I messed up!” exclaimed Nellie.

“Guys: we’re trapped in a book.”

“The writer who built this place,” Jonathan said to Will. “Wait—Al, shouldn’t you have figured this out before? Didn’t you read that book?”

“I skimmed it, Jon, okay? I have a lot of books to read.”

“This is preposterous,” said Will. “Who ever heard of being trapped in a book?”

Instead of answering, Alyssa handed Will another book.

“The Fighting Ace,” said Will. “What’s your point?”

“Open it and read. Out loud.”

Will started with page 1: “‘He was destined to end up as rugged as they come, but as he walked across Farnborough Airfield on April 22, 1916, Officer Cadet Will Draper was nothing more than a boy who wanted to fly.’ Now hold on a minute! What’s the meaning of this?”

“Uh, you?” Alyssa said.

Will continued to read. “‘Before he boarded the plane, Officer Cadet Draper removed a silver flask from his pocket. He took a long drink, then glanced at the engraved inscription, Per Ardua ad Astra, and thought of the day his brother Edgar gave it to him. . . .’”

While Will read, his voice got smaller, and then he dropped the book as if it had burned him. Jonathan looked at Will’s empty flask next to him. Per Ardua ad Astra.

“What does it mean?”

“Royal Flying Corps motto,” said a trembling Will. “‘Through Struggles to the Stars.’”

“Big deal. I’ll bet everybody in the Flying Corps has one of those.”

“But does everybody in the Flying Corps have a brother named Edgar?” asked Alyssa softly.

Will gave a stunned shake of his head—and then became animated, angry, as if realizing that a grave injustice had been done to him. “Miss Walter, what have you gotten me mixed up in?”

“It wasn’t us—we were minding our business—but the Wind Witch—”

“You dragged me into this mess! I was on a mission, trying to turn the tide at Picardy, and all of a sudden I’ve abandoned my commanding officers and come to read about myself in some elaborate game played by American children?! It’s not right!”

Children? Alyssa thought. We're almost the same age! And I'm probably a lot smarter. Jonathan put a hand on the pilot’s back to calm him down. Will took a deep breath to continue yelling—and coughed. Blood sprayed across the kitchen table.

“Oh my God—” Nellie said.

Will’s eyes rolled back in his head. He collapsed into the pillows behind him. Alyssa gulped and stared at his shoulder.

“Nell, take those pillows away. Jon, get the kitchen scissors, a candle, and some matches. We’re operating on him. Now.”