Shadowhouse Fall by Daniel José Older

Author:Daniel José Older
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2017-03-28T04:00:00+00:00

Getting past the front desk turned out to be pretty simple: Sierra unleashed a few chalk goblins and sent them to wreak havoc in the staff lounge. A few minutes later, a coffeepot exploded and the microwave started beeping out the melody of “When Doves Cry.” The receptionist glared at them, pushed a button, and then hurried around the corner to see what the commotion was. A security guard followed soon after.

“Uncle Neville would be proud,” Bennie said, dapping Sierra.

“He would be if he wasn’t busy getting busy with Nydia O.”

“Say what?”

“Just a hunch. Anyway, c’mon!”

They rounded the hallway where the security guard had come from, turned another corner, and came up against a set of locked double doors. A little keypad sat on the wall, blinking softly.

“Damn,” Sierra said.

“I’m gonna …” Bennie started. “I wanna …”

“What?”

“Imma try something, okay? Don’t make fun of me if it doesn’t work.”

Sierra stepped back. “I would never! Usually. Anyway, do it quick, girl.”

A spirit longstepped down the corridor toward them: Alice. She was tall and walked with her hands tucked into her hoodie. Bennie glanced at her, then pulled out a Sharpie. “Okay,” she said, breathing heavily. “Alright.” She drew a thick black line on the gray wall beneath the keypad, then crossed it with three smaller lines and sketched a spiraling circle at the bottom.

Sierra cocked her head at it but didn’t say anything.

Bennie glanced back at Alice, nodded, then raised her right hand and put her left one against the symbol. Alice covered the last few steps between them in seconds, dove forward, and vanished into Bennie. Bennie shuddered, and then her drawing shot upward into the keypad.

“Yo,” Sierra whispered.

Bennie shook her head. “Hold up, that wasn’t even the — just … wait for it.” The keypad suddenly let out a mechanical burp and then sparks sizzled out of it. “Whoa!”

The door flew open.

“Yo!” Sierra gasped.

Bennie shrugged with mock nonchalance. “I been practicing at home some.”

They caught glimpses of patients as they passed rooms on either side of the corridor: a man watching TV, another scribbling frantically at his desk, someone in a wheelchair looking out a window at the gray sky over Brooklyn.

“Here,” Sierra said.

Bennie gaped at the name on the door. “Sierra!”

“I know. I know. And yes, I’m sure. He might know something about the Sorrows or the Deck. We gotta try.”

They peered in the window. Dr. Jonathan Wick sat on his bed, staring at his hands. His emaciated body was still ravaged from the inner thrashing the spirits had dealt him at Sierra’s bidding. He was in his thirties, and had looked it when he first started coming around the shadowshapers, learning their magic from Lázaro. He’d had a big mess of brown hair and a young face, a gentle smile. Now, he sat hunched over himself, a line of drool dangling from his toothless mouth.

Sierra felt a pang of guilt. She had done this to him, turned him into a gaping shadow of himself. But he had killed and kidnapped people she loved, had tried to kill her.

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