The Power. Michael Grant

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СКАЧАТЬ golem was a creature … well, that seems harsh, doesn’t it? Referring to someone as a creature? Let’s take another run at that. The golem was a … being. A person, even, made of mud and twigs and magically infused with life and a sense of purpose by the placement in his mouth of a tiny scroll bearing two words: Be Mack.

      Grimluk had created the golem to cover for Mack while Mack was off trying to save the world.

      Despite the fact that the golem had a tendency to wash away in the rain, and occasionally would grow or shrink in unpredictable ways, and turned in history papers with titles like “What Color Was the Sky in 1812? Green?” no one had discovered his secret.

      No one, at least, until Camaro Angianelli figured out that something was very odd about this not-quite-Mack.

      Camaro had recently been promoted to Queen of All Bullies at Richard Gere Middle School.¹⁷ She had been anointed queen when Tony Pooch, her last competition for the job, had run from a fight with her. Of course if Stefan came back, she would have no choice but to return the title of Bully Supreme to him—even Camaro didn’t want to have to take on Stefan. But for now Camaro was riding high. She had appointed many new sub-bullies, changing the categories to keep up with the times. For example, the category of “nerd” was now combined with “dork” and they had a single bully. (Geeks had been exempted from bullying after paying Camaro a bribe in the form of cheat codes to Halo 4.) Preppies had disappeared altogether, to be replaced by hipsters.

      Twilight fans were assigned a new bully—the old one had been found actually reading one of the books,¹⁸ which was totally against the spirit of things.

      Camaro had also brought a new level of humaneness to the organized bully system that Stefan had created. For example, she had set limits on the amount of lunch money that could be extorted (20 percent for most kids, 40 percent for rich kids).

      More revolutionary still, Camaro had created the brand-new position of Popular Mean Girls Bully. The PMGs had never liked Camaro, and Camaro could hold a grudge. The Popular Mean Girls’ bully, whose name was Jennifer Schwarz, was not especially big or strong, but she made up for it by being incredibly obnoxious and absolutely relentless. She bullied through nagging and refusing to go away, and it was quite effective. In fact, Jennifer Schwarz had set up a nice little business on the side selling the lip gloss, earrings, and cell phone skins she extorted from the PMGs.

      Anyway, before we got distracted by the politics of bullying, we were at a dance. Camaro was a pretty good dancer. The golem was … Hmmm. Well, as a dancer, the golem was … What’s a good word? He was … original. Yes, original. For one thing, he took up a fair amount of room when he danced. In fact, it was best to stay at least ten feet back because the flailing, falling, plunging, and temporary body-part loss could endanger innocent bystanders.

      Everyone kind of liked the way he could dance up the walls, but most folks thought dancing on the ceiling was just show-offy. And, too, he yelped at odd times.

      But no one said anything or even looked at him funny because he was Camaro’s boyfriend. And in case it isn’t clear by now, Camaro was not a girl you messed with. For her part, she liked the golem’s exuberance. She alone knew that he was not really Mack. She alone knew that there was something supernatural about him. And that he had secrets. And that he could, if controlled by the wrong person, become very, very dangerous.

      Risky had placed a cell phone in the golem’s mouth at one point hoping to use texts to reprogram the golem from playing the part of Mack to becoming the Destroyer.

      Camaro had put a stop to that. But she was not foolish enough to believe that Risky was done with the golem.

      For now, though, it was all good from her point of view. In fact, Camaro was having a really nice time dancing with the golem.

      Happiness. Warm, sweet, gentle happiness.

      But how long was that going to last with the Pale Queen nearing the date when she would emerge to trouble all of humanity?

      Not long, that’s how long.

      Camaro looked out over her queendom, out at the two hundred or so kids—some dancing, most standing awkwardly and gawping, or staring fixedly down at their smartphones—and it was then she noticed that some of the kids were unfamiliar to her.

      Some were kid-sized in terms of tallness, but broader, thicker, more muscular, and very strangely dressed in lederhosen.¹⁹

      Now that she noticed, some of the chaperones were a little unusual, too. They had a distinctly insect-like aspect to them. As if the moms and dads had been replaced by large grasshoppers wearing human clothing.

      Camaro stopped dancing, although the golem kept right on. Her eyes narrowed and she cracked her knuckles just the way Stefan would have.

      Something disturbing was happening in the queendom of Camaro Angianelli. She didn’t yet know of the treasonous Tong Elves, who, coincidentally, were about the size of middle-schoolers but broader, thicker, creepier, and more muscular, and very strangely dressed.

      Nor did she know of the foul Skirrit species with their unwholesome similarity to grasshoppers.

      But she soon would.

      She took three bold steps, yanked the golem down off the wall, pinned his arms so he would stop flailing (dancing), and said, “Give me your phone: I need to talk to Mack.”

      

      here was a time when a hundred-foot-tall twelve-year-old with a scimitar and a Nafia hit man in his pocket would have scared Mack.

      But Mack had learned a few things. He’d been in a few fights. He’d stood up to Skirrit, Tong Elves, Lepercons, even Gudridan. He’d been yanked out of a jet over the South Pacific. He’d been fired through the air by a crazy old Scotsman.

      Most of all: after much stalling, he’d actually finally studied some Vargran from the Vargran Key.

      The giant Valin raised his scimitar, this time shifting his grip so that rather than readying to bring it down in a broad sweeping cut he could stab it down, point first. Valin could see Mack now; he could see him through the hole in the roof, and his beef was specifically with Mack.

      He wasn’t an indiscriminate killer, after all. He wanted to kill Mack, not a bunch of innocent airline passengers.

      “Lom-ma poindra!” Mack cried.

      Why did he yell that? Because those are the Vargran words for “disappear sword!” In the imperative, or “or else!” tense that is unique to Vargran.

      Mack was pretty sure this would work, so he was upset when instead of disappearing, the gigantic scimitar came stabbing straight down at him.

      He jumped back, tripped, fell on his butt, and had to scoot away like a dog on a carpet.

      The point of the scimitar hit the floor, threw up a spray of broken tile, and plunged clear down through the floor СКАЧАТЬ