Arcade Catastrophe
Page 7
Aunt Rhonda leaned against the kitchen counter perusing a gossip magazine. She looked up as Pigeon entered. “Just because it stays light forever this time of year doesn’t mean the clocks stop ticking. Your sisters are already in bed.”
“Sorry, I was riding bikes with my friends. I’ll do better tomorrow.”
Aunt Rhonda shrugged. “I am the oldest in your mom’s family. The oldest has to deal with all sorts of extra hassles. There should be some perks.”
Pigeon grinned. “Do you mind if I go outside to see Diego?”
“Go ahead. But then get ready for bed afterward.”
“Deal.”
As Pigeon headed out the back door, his Labrador padded over to him, then paused, looking up expectantly. Mr. Stott had fiddled with his Brain Feed recipe over the past several months, trying to increase the duration of the effect. No animal had received close to the quantities Diego had consumed. Not only had the heightened intelligence and capacity for speech granted by the kibbles started lasting longer, a permanent increase in intelligence was gradually becoming evident. Even without the Brain Feed, Diego had become a better companion than ever and could now reliably respond to a wide variety of commands.
Pigeon cupped some Brain Feed in his palm and dumped the bits of food on the patio. Diego gobbled up all traces in no time.
“Much better,” Diego sighed. “I can tell something is off when I don’t have the Brain Feed. As soon as I eat, my memories return with sharper clarity. It’s as if I remember the dream better after awakening.”
“Mr. Stott thinks eventually the effect could become permanent,” Pigeon said.
“Wouldn’t that be nice? No more sleepwalking through most of my life. Aren’t you up a little late?”
“We had an eventful day.”
Diego sat up attentively. “Tell me about it.”
“John Dart might be in trouble. Looks like we have some new bad guys in town.”
“I’m here if you need me.”
“We might,” Pigeon admitted. “We were at Mr. Stott’s tonight. He’s worried about us getting involved. Honestly, so am I. We were in over our heads last time.”
“How did you hear about the trouble?”
“Some friends of John tracked us down. They’re magical police, like him.”
“Who are the bad guys? What do they want?”
“We’re not sure yet,” Pigeon replied. “We’ll get details tomorrow.”
“Do you want details?”
Pigeon sat down, placing his elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand. “I’m not sure. What if we end up trying to deal with another Mrs. White?”
Diego shook his coat. “Not a cheerful thought. Speaking of our former archenemy, how is Lindy?”
Pigeon gave a neutral shrug. “She’s sad that Mr. Stott doesn’t want her meeting with the magical police.”
“They know about her,” Diego said.
“Probably. Mozag and John Dart know, so I expect these guys do as well. I just think Mr. Stott is worried what bad magicians might do if they find out about her.”
“Like try to bring her memory back?”
“I don’t know,” Pigeon said. “Mr. Stott examined the recipe for the Clean Slate. He says making one is really difficult. He doesn’t think he could do it. But he assured us that the effects of the Clean Slate should be permanent. He was worried for a while that mixing the Clean Slate with water from the Fountain of Youth could have weakened the magic. Different types of magic don’t always blend well. But after studying the issue, he determined that the effects of the Clean Slate would actually be strengthened by the changes induced by the fountain.”
“So nobody can bring her memory back,” Diego verified.
“As far as we can tell,” Pigeon said. “Of course, the other worry is that deep down Lindy is naturally evil. It might only be a matter of time before she heads down a dark path again.”
“The old nature-versus-nurture argument,” Diego said. “Hopefully Belinda turned evil because of the way she was raised. Her behavior might have been influenced by bad examples or difficult circumstances.”
“Mr. Stott has searched,” Pigeon said, “but he hasn’t learned much about her younger days.”
“You’re worried about her,” Diego said. “You like her.”
“I like her a lot. Am I nuts? She’s cute and really fun to hang out with. Most kids don’t think a lot before they speak. She’s different. She listens and she’s smart. She might not have her memories, but she has a quick mind and an adult vocabulary. That can be hard to find.”
“You have an unusual mind yourself,” Diego said. “In some ways, you’re older than your years. It must make you lonely sometimes.”
“None of my friends are dumb,” Pigeon hurriedly clarified. “But kids like Lindy are pretty impossible to find. It’s just weird to like her so much when she used to be a dangerous, magical old lady. She could have killed us! Part of me is always nervous she’s going to turn psychotic.”
“Considering who she used to be, that is probably a healthy concern.”
Pigeon rubbed Diego’s head, then scratched behind his neck. “I’m glad I have you to talk with.”
“I’m not called man’s best friend for nothing,” Diego replied. “That feels wonderful. Can you scratch a little lower? Mmmm, that’s the spot.”
“What should I do about the meeting tomorrow?”
“With the magical cops?”
Pigeon nodded.
“You’re already involved,” Diego said. “You might as well go learn the specifics.”
“I was afraid you might say that.”
Chapter Three
The Battiato Brothers
Schwendiman’s All-You-Can-Eat Buffet stood in the parking lot of a strip mall near a pet shop, a frozen yogurt franchise, and a grocery store. Nate, Trevor, Summer, and Pigeon stashed their bikes before walking around to the front. Nate found the Battiato twins waiting just beyond the door, dressed in suits, their expressions neutral.
One of the brothers consulted a heavy wristwatch. “Right on time. If anything, thirty seconds early.”
“Ziggy appreciates punctuality,” Victor said.
Ziggy straightened his suit coat. “It’s considerate.”
“We’re all here,” Victor told the hostess, a young brunette with some purple in her hair.
“Sorry, I was riding bikes with my friends. I’ll do better tomorrow.”
Aunt Rhonda shrugged. “I am the oldest in your mom’s family. The oldest has to deal with all sorts of extra hassles. There should be some perks.”
Pigeon grinned. “Do you mind if I go outside to see Diego?”
“Go ahead. But then get ready for bed afterward.”
“Deal.”
As Pigeon headed out the back door, his Labrador padded over to him, then paused, looking up expectantly. Mr. Stott had fiddled with his Brain Feed recipe over the past several months, trying to increase the duration of the effect. No animal had received close to the quantities Diego had consumed. Not only had the heightened intelligence and capacity for speech granted by the kibbles started lasting longer, a permanent increase in intelligence was gradually becoming evident. Even without the Brain Feed, Diego had become a better companion than ever and could now reliably respond to a wide variety of commands.
Pigeon cupped some Brain Feed in his palm and dumped the bits of food on the patio. Diego gobbled up all traces in no time.
“Much better,” Diego sighed. “I can tell something is off when I don’t have the Brain Feed. As soon as I eat, my memories return with sharper clarity. It’s as if I remember the dream better after awakening.”
“Mr. Stott thinks eventually the effect could become permanent,” Pigeon said.
“Wouldn’t that be nice? No more sleepwalking through most of my life. Aren’t you up a little late?”
“We had an eventful day.”
Diego sat up attentively. “Tell me about it.”
“John Dart might be in trouble. Looks like we have some new bad guys in town.”
“I’m here if you need me.”
“We might,” Pigeon admitted. “We were at Mr. Stott’s tonight. He’s worried about us getting involved. Honestly, so am I. We were in over our heads last time.”
“How did you hear about the trouble?”
“Some friends of John tracked us down. They’re magical police, like him.”
“Who are the bad guys? What do they want?”
“We’re not sure yet,” Pigeon replied. “We’ll get details tomorrow.”
“Do you want details?”
Pigeon sat down, placing his elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand. “I’m not sure. What if we end up trying to deal with another Mrs. White?”
Diego shook his coat. “Not a cheerful thought. Speaking of our former archenemy, how is Lindy?”
Pigeon gave a neutral shrug. “She’s sad that Mr. Stott doesn’t want her meeting with the magical police.”
“They know about her,” Diego said.
“Probably. Mozag and John Dart know, so I expect these guys do as well. I just think Mr. Stott is worried what bad magicians might do if they find out about her.”
“Like try to bring her memory back?”
“I don’t know,” Pigeon said. “Mr. Stott examined the recipe for the Clean Slate. He says making one is really difficult. He doesn’t think he could do it. But he assured us that the effects of the Clean Slate should be permanent. He was worried for a while that mixing the Clean Slate with water from the Fountain of Youth could have weakened the magic. Different types of magic don’t always blend well. But after studying the issue, he determined that the effects of the Clean Slate would actually be strengthened by the changes induced by the fountain.”
“So nobody can bring her memory back,” Diego verified.
“As far as we can tell,” Pigeon said. “Of course, the other worry is that deep down Lindy is naturally evil. It might only be a matter of time before she heads down a dark path again.”
“The old nature-versus-nurture argument,” Diego said. “Hopefully Belinda turned evil because of the way she was raised. Her behavior might have been influenced by bad examples or difficult circumstances.”
“Mr. Stott has searched,” Pigeon said, “but he hasn’t learned much about her younger days.”
“You’re worried about her,” Diego said. “You like her.”
“I like her a lot. Am I nuts? She’s cute and really fun to hang out with. Most kids don’t think a lot before they speak. She’s different. She listens and she’s smart. She might not have her memories, but she has a quick mind and an adult vocabulary. That can be hard to find.”
“You have an unusual mind yourself,” Diego said. “In some ways, you’re older than your years. It must make you lonely sometimes.”
“None of my friends are dumb,” Pigeon hurriedly clarified. “But kids like Lindy are pretty impossible to find. It’s just weird to like her so much when she used to be a dangerous, magical old lady. She could have killed us! Part of me is always nervous she’s going to turn psychotic.”
“Considering who she used to be, that is probably a healthy concern.”
Pigeon rubbed Diego’s head, then scratched behind his neck. “I’m glad I have you to talk with.”
“I’m not called man’s best friend for nothing,” Diego replied. “That feels wonderful. Can you scratch a little lower? Mmmm, that’s the spot.”
“What should I do about the meeting tomorrow?”
“With the magical cops?”
Pigeon nodded.
“You’re already involved,” Diego said. “You might as well go learn the specifics.”
“I was afraid you might say that.”
Chapter Three
The Battiato Brothers
Schwendiman’s All-You-Can-Eat Buffet stood in the parking lot of a strip mall near a pet shop, a frozen yogurt franchise, and a grocery store. Nate, Trevor, Summer, and Pigeon stashed their bikes before walking around to the front. Nate found the Battiato twins waiting just beyond the door, dressed in suits, their expressions neutral.
One of the brothers consulted a heavy wristwatch. “Right on time. If anything, thirty seconds early.”
“Ziggy appreciates punctuality,” Victor said.
Ziggy straightened his suit coat. “It’s considerate.”
“We’re all here,” Victor told the hostess, a young brunette with some purple in her hair.
