Thief of Souls by Neal Shusterman

Author:Neal Shusterman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

14. SIMPLE PLEASURES

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THE DEPARTMENT OF PARKS AND RECREATIONS DID NOT come to evict the Shards from Hearst Castle. The National Guard never showed up to drive them out. Any official who came knocking, quickly pledged themselves into the service of the five—and in that new allegiance, those same officials made sure no word of what was really going on ever made it to the outside world. By the sixth day at the castle, it became clear that they could remain there, anonymous and invisible, as long as they wanted. And their numbers continued to build.

“This place is like a black hole,” Winston had commented; “things fall in, and they don’t come out.” Which, noted Michael, was also an accurate description of a Roach Motel.

At first Drew kept a notebook of all the wondrous things that occurred within the castle grounds, as well as a record of who had joined their numbers—but after the second day, he gave up the pad and paper in favor of a video camera, to journalize the days.

But if anyone truly rose to the occasion, it was Okoya. With a quick mind and powerful spirit, he instantly became akin to a chief of staff. It was Okoya who kept track of the Happy Campers—organizing what they did, and when they did it—and when new recruits walked bleary-eyed out of the Gothic Study, with new leases on life, it was Okoya who led them away to be assimilated into the Great Repair that Dillon had begun.

“They need to be debriefed,” Okoya had said. “I’d be happy to see to it personally.”

And yet in spite of all of those responsibilities, Okoya made sure he had time to spend with each of the Shards. Plenty of time. As their personal confidant and advisor, Okoya was always there to ease their minds.

“I ADMIRE YOU, WINSTON,” Okoya said. “You know so many things.”

It was their fourth evening in the castle. Winston sat on his private balcony watching the sunset and reading yet another of Mr. Hearst’s leather-bound volumes. Okoya had slipped in beside him without Winston noticing.

“Yeah, I’m a regular encyclopedia,” he said, shrugging off the compliment.

“What are you reading?”

“Machiavelli,” answered Winston. “Personally, I think he’s full of himself.”

Okoya ran a hand through his shiny hair; the wind lifted it, and cast it about his shoulders. “I’ll bet you could write things that would put them all to shame,” Okoya told Winston. “I’ll bet you could inspire millions. You could convince them to do anything—cultivate their minds in any direction you wanted them to grow.”

“Flattery or truth?” Winston quipped.

“I think you know.”

The crimson and cobalts of the sky were quickly fading to a rich violet, as the sun slipped below the horizon. Too dark to read by. Winston closed his book, and rubbed his eyes. It had been an exhausting day. They were getting better at their little medical triage sessions, but the Happy Campers had brought in almost forty people to repair today, most of them so badly injured it sapped all the Shards’ strength to do the job.

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