Apprentice needed, p.2
Apprentice Needed, page 2
With his eyes closed, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stepped on the floor. His bare toes grabbed at the carpet. He wasn’t asleep, but his mind was not his own.
The wind thumped against the house like the bass line of a harrowing song. Ozzy blinked and opened his eyes. He shuffled to one of the huge windows that were facing west toward the ocean. He pressed both of his palms up against the glass. His hands shook as they touched the shivering window.
Turning slowly, he walked back to the bed. The iron bedframe had four decorative bedknobs at each corner, each a little larger than a billiard ball.
Ozzy grabbed a bedknob on a post at the foot of the bed. He closed his eyes and unscrewed the iron bedknob. The metal sphere squeaked until it came loose in his hands. The weight of the round knob pulled his arm downward. He swiveled, and with one smooth motion, threw the heavy object at the closest window.
Crasshck!
The bedknob hit the center of the glass, creating an ear-splitting sound and thousands of veiny fractures that covered the entire window with a webbed pattern. After hitting the glass, the metal bedknob dropped to the floor with a thud.
Ozzy just stood there, his mind feeding him messages he didn’t want to obey. Without warning or reason, he ran across the room, barrelling directly into the already fractured glass with his right shoulder.
The second-story window burst outward in a thousand shards as Ozzy flew through it.
The boy didn’t scream or flail, he just hit the grassy ground behind the garage, rolling toward the trees at the edge of the yard. His body crumpled up into a heap of human as it came to a stop near two large boulders.
He stood up.
The wind was thrilled to have full access to him now. It enveloped Ozzy, buffering him from side to side and tossing his dark hair every which way but neat. The lights on the back of the garage and house swayed wildly, creating jittery shadows that danced rhythmically around the boy.
Still more asleep than awake, he started to walk away from the garage. His body was covered with small cuts and tiny splinters of glass.
His face, however, was expressionless.
Ozzy walked over the grass, past some boulders, through the trees, and between a stone bench and a metal railing. He stepped onto a thin sandy path winding past the long grasses down toward the beach.
His expression remained the same.
Wind smacked and shoved him around like a pushy bully who had no understanding of how a person should act. Sand blew through the air like errant pieces of glass—stinging his arms and head and eyes, adding to the cuts and scrapes he’d already gathered.
Still, he kept walking.
A small dot of blackness competing with the night moved in behind the boy and spoke.
“What are you doing?” Clark chirped loudly from behind him.
The bird’s small voice was barely audible over the raging wind. And the strong gusts were making it difficult for Clark to catch up.
“Hey!” Clark screeched. “What gives?”
The wind tossed the bird back toward the house.
Clark righted himself and fought the air. It was dark, and the electric charge he’d accumulated before shutting down dropped quickly as he used his full strength to push against the elements.
“Stop walking!” he tweeted. “Ozzy!”
Hearing his name, the boy stopped for a moment, blinked twice, and then kept moving. The momentary pause was just enough for Clark to catch up and dig his claws into the back of Ozzy’s T-shirt.
“What are you doing?” Clark scream-tweeted. “I like the ocean as much as you, but it’s the middle of the night and the wind has lost its mind!”
In the distance, massive mounds of water crashed down, pummeling the shore with their heavy bodies.
“Seriously,” Clark yelled as he tried to climb up Ozzy’s shirt onto his left shoulder. “I . . . I . . . I’m wearing down. I can’t . . .”
Clark was out of power; he let go. His left talons raked Ozzy’s shoulder as the wind violently flipped him back toward the house like a wad of unwanted paper.
Ozzy continued toward the water.
Now something was different. The deep scratch from Clark’s talons had awakened something inside the boy. His head thrashed from side to side and his feet moved slower as he began to fight whatever was happening.
The elements pushed him closer and closer to the water; mist from the waves rose up and over him, soaking his body and clothes.
He tried to yell, but his mind was not his own. Something was moving him—his legs, his arms, and his body were being manipulated, working together to lead him directly into the raging sea.
His feet reached the shore as waves taller than most hills crashed down around him. He fought the wind and water but it was pointless, because even as he struggled mentally, his body continued to walk.
Ozzy stepped into the waves.
The sea pushed him backwards, but his body kept him surging forward.
In a moment the water was up to his waist, then his chest.
He moved deeper, as wave after wave came thundering down on top of him. His being shook from the cold and relentless ocean. Water filled his mouth and blinded his eyes. He could taste the salt and the unsavory realization of what was happening.
Death seemed like the most likely next step.
The sea ripped his legs out from under him and Ozzy sank below the wet and deadly surface.
Sigi’s brown eyes flashed open and her heart was racing—something had woken her up. She laid in her bed trying to figure out what it had been. A dream? The wind? A troublesome metal raven that was trying to be a chaperone/guard-bird but was failing at being quiet?
The wind, she decided.
As if to verify her thoughts, the wind outside of her curtain-covered windows screeched, making it sound like Mother Nature hadn’t figured out how inappropriate catcalls were.
Sigi closed her eyes, sighed, and then sat up.
Her room was dark, but the light from a small clock on her desk lit up the space just enough to enable her to walk around without bumping into things.
The wind whistled louder.
“Knock it off.”
Sigi stood up and walked to the lightswitch. She pushed the button and her world became brighter.
Glancing around, everything appeared to be in order, but from somewhere far away she could hear something banging repeatedly. Wearing an oversized T-shirt and shorts, she stepped out into the hall.
“Clark?” she called out.
There was no answer.
Sigi walked down the hall and the thumping grew louder.
“Clark? Ozzy?”
The noise was strongest in the kitchen. It seemed to be coming from the direction of the garage. Sigi opened the kitchen door and looked across the breezeway at the wooden stairs. Something clapped and slammed. She looked up the dimly lit stairs and saw Ozzy’s door blowing open and closed in the heavy wind.
“Ozzy?” she shouted. “Clark?”
Something was wrong.
Sigi ran across the breezeway and up the stairs. She grabbed the handle of the slamming door and flipped on the overhead light. There, like a bad surprise, was Ozzy’s empty bed and a shattered window. Wind poured into the room and around her like a fat clumsy ghost. Bits of orange yarn were blowing everywhere.
“Ozzy?”
Stepping up to the window, she stared out into the windy darkness. Her hands were shaking; her knees felt loose in their sockets. Her curly hair twisted in the wind. What Ozzy and she had already been through was dangerous and unsettling. The thought of new trouble made her stomach queasy.
As she stared out what was left of the window, something came flying in and hit her in her uneasy stomach. Sigi fell backwards onto the bed and rolled to the floor. She reached for what had struck her and squeezed.
“Stop it!” Clark squawked. “You’re going to break my wings.”
Sigi sat up on the floor, holding the bird in front of her. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Ozzy,” Clark answered. “He’s freaking out.” The bird jumped from her hand and positioned himself near the lamp on the desk. “He’s down on the beach, walking toward the waves. I couldn’t stop him. I had to ride the wind just to get back here. You’ve got to get him. I’ll come as soon as I’m charged.”
Sigi didn’t waste time with questions or comments. She turned quickly and ran out of the room and down the wooden stairs. She ran into the kitchen and grabbed a small red aluminum flashlight. Switching it on, she ran back out onto the breezeway and across the yard toward the beach. She passed the boulders and trees.
“Ozzy!” she screamed, tossing the small beam of light from side to side. “Ozzy!”
She ran over the sand toward the ocean as fast as she could. And when she reached the water, the waves were angry and deafening. Turning in a circle, she shone the flashlight across the waves and the sand.
“Ozzy! Ozzy!”
Clark powered through the wind and landed on her right shoulder. He clawed at her T-shirt.
“He’s in the water!” the bird yelled.
Sigi ran into the ocean as if she knew what she was doing.
“Where?” she screamed.
“I don’t know,” the bird screamed back. “But he was . . . there!”
Clark shot off of Sigi’s shoulder toward a spot twenty feet to her left. Sigi aimed the flashlight and marched farther into the water. She saw Ozzy’s wet brown hair bobbing up in the distance.
“Ozzy!”
Sigi dropped the flashlight and dove under the water. The ocean was as black as the sky, but after only a few strong strokes and kicks she ran directly into Ozzy. Sigi wrapped her right arm around his listless body and pushed her head up to get a lungful of air.
“You got him!” Clark yelled as he fluttered above, the wind making it hard for him to fly in place.
With her right arm around Ozzy’s chest, Sigi began to swim back toward the shore. Under normal conditions the act of dragging a six-foot frame through the torrid water would have seemed impossible. But Sigi had adrenaline coursing through her body. Plus she was being cheered on by a metallic bird with strong vocals.
“Don’t let go!”
Sigi’s feet finally found the bottom of the ocean. She used her legs to help pull Ozzy the rest of the way through the surging water and up onto shore.
Clark dropped from the sky and started clawing at the boy’s wet shirt. Sigi gave one last yank and then dropped Ozzy on the sand just out of the reach of the waves.
She collapsed next to him.
“Is he alive?” Clark screamed above the wind.
Sigi rolled over onto her hands and knees and took a few moments to cough and gasp for air. The intense darkness and continuous wind were relentlessly stealing her breath.
“Is he dead?” Clark asked. “He looks dead. Kiss him!” the bird chirped. “That’s what they do in movies.”
Sigi ignored Clark and put her hand on Ozzy’s chest to see if he was breathing.
“That’s not how you kiss,” Clark squawked. “Smash your face against his.”
“It’s okay,” Sigi said. “He’s breathing. I can feel his chest moving.”
“Oh.” Clark sounded almost disappointed. “I just thought a kiss would be more dramatic. Besides, if he’s alive, why isn’t he moving?”
“He’s unconscious.” The night was so dark that Sigi could barely see the bird she was talking to. “We need to get help.”
“What about the flashlight?” Clark asked in a panic.
“What about it?”
“I really liked that light.”
“Forget about that. I lost it in the ocean. We have to get him . . .”
Sigi stopped talking because Ozzy had suddenly sat up. The relief on her face was visible even in the dark.
“You’re okay!” she said, throwing her arms around him as they sat next to each other on the sand.
Ozzy didn’t reply.
“He’s probably mad about the flashlight,” Clark said.
“He’s not—”
Ozzy stood up without saying anything.
“What are you doing?” Sigi asked. “You should rest.”
The boy wasn’t listening. He turned around twice, and then began walking back toward the house. Sigi scrambled to get up and Clark darted onto Ozzy’s left shoulder, grabbing his wet T-shirt with his talons.
“What’s the deal?” Clark tweeted. “What are you doing?”
Ozzy kept walking.
Sigi caught up and put her arm around him as he walked. Together they moved through the trees, past the boulders, and across the yard. The lights on the back of the house were still swaying in the wind, doing their best to light things up. The tiny scratches covering Ozzy’s arms and legs were visible for the first time.
“What happened to you?” Sigi asked.
Ozzy didn’t answer.
Sigi looked up and saw the shattered window in the room above the garage. The light from the room shone down. “Did you jump from there?”
Ozzy blinked and kept walking.
“Your mom’s not going to be happy about this,” Clark said to Sigi. “She said to keep things in order.”
“You’re the chaperone,” Sigi argued.
Ozzy walked through the breezeway and started climbing the stairs to his room.
“What do we do?” Sigi asked the bird.
“Maybe he wants to jump out the window again,” Clark suggested. “Some people live for the thrill of dumb things.”
When they got to Ozzy’s room he walked directly to his bed and climbed in. Reaching down, he pulled the blanket up from the floor, covered himself with it, and closed his eyes.
Clark perched himself on the remaining bedknob at the foot of the bed. The wind coming in through the broken window caused him to sway.
“Should we call a doctor?” Sigi asked.
“You think she could find the flashlight?”
“The flashlight’s gone, Clark.”
The small metal bird shivered. “Maybe Ozzy just needs sleep?”
“Maybe.” Sigi didn’t look sure of anything. “One of us needs to stay here and keep an eye on him. We need to make sure he doesn’t do something else like that.”
Sigi’s words fell on deaf metal—Clark had already shut down.
The wind rocked Clark some more and he fell off the bedknob and onto the mattress near Ozzy’s feet.
“Some guard-bird.”
Sigi moved the desk chair nearer the bed and out of the direct path of the incoming wind. She took a seat. She sat looking at Ozzy—her hair was wet, her mind was a mess, and the wind wouldn’t shut up. She knew very well that what had just happened was caused by more than just a blustery night. Something terrible was brewing. Something was happening, and she had never felt more anxious to have her father back.
Unfortunately, anxiety does nothing to help the cause.
The wizard moved up the street quietly and with speed. His eyes took in the dark night before him as he searched for any potential hazards or obstacles ahead.
The scene was still and the town was sleeping.
He dashed in a fashion befitting a wizard, making it across the empty road and over to his destination. Gazing at the front of the building, he felt a sudden and surprising sense of guilt. There was some reason to worry, but he knew what was at stake. Finishing the task was all that mattered.
He reached out and tried the knob—the door was locked. The wizard pulled his wand from his robe and spoke softly.
“Sintabio afinisha.”
The door opened, and he stepped inside.
The dark interior was void of people but contained some obstacles. He could see the shadows and outlines of the areas he needed to search.
“Resped umidino.”
The words caused a small flame to burn in his hand and light the space.
He quickly and carefully searched the room.
Finding nothing, he unlocked another door and moved into the inner chamber. His hands and eyes looked over everything, taking care to leave things as undisturbed as possible. A locked drawer offered some difficulty and resisted his initial spells.
“A staff would be nice,” he whispered, knowing how magical leverage could be.
Having no staff, he found a closed umbrella in a bin by the wall. He placed the tip of it under the top of the drawer and pried it up. The locked drawer popped open, and inside it he found a few items of interest, but not what he had come for.
“Quite disappointing,” he muttered.
A weak light came into the room through a small square window at the back of the inner chamber. The wizard looked out and saw lights moving in the distance.
He turned and walked back through the two doors and out into the dark night.
Once outside, the wizard pulled his robe tightly around him and walked quickly and undetected through the wind—acting as if he were simply a part of the strong breeze, blowing back to where he had come from.
Sunlight poured into Ozzy’s room and applied a sugary white glaze to everything. The air was cool and smelled like the ocean—salty, with a hint of sulfur.
Ozzy had slept peacefully and soundly through the night, and hadn’t taken any additional strolls into the ocean. Sigi had slept in the chair at the foot of his bed all night. When morning arrived, Clark had woken up, allowing her to take a shower and dress in clean clothes.
Now Sigi was back in Ozzy’s room. She and Clark were standing at the edge of the bed, staring at Ozzy as if he were something so delicate that even speaking too loudly might harm him.
“So . . . you think he’s okay?” Sigi whispered.
