Heroes of the Dustbin Page 5

  “I could probably do it with my bare hands,” Dez said, but everyone ignored him.

  “The Toxites are fueled by those brain nests,” Olin said. “If we snip the connection, the brains will wither, and the Toxites will return to ordinary dust, never to bother another student again.”

  “But the Glop source must be closed when that happens,” Sach added.

  “Why?” Spencer asked. “If we use the scissors now, why do we even need to worry about closing the source?”

  “Destroying the nests will create a lot of destructive energy,” Aryl said. “We have to contain the blast in the Dustbin. If the Glop source is open, that energy will spill into our world, destroying everything in its path.”

  “Destruction.” Dez grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Sounds cool.”

  “This wouldn’t be the kind of destruction you want to see,” Olin said. “The blast would cause the source to rip wide open. All that magic dust from the Dustbin would come through like a hurricane, turning to Glop when it entered our world. Since the dust is endless, there would be no way to staunch the flow. Earth would be completely flooded within minutes. Everything would be covered.”

  “Welcher?” Daisy asked.

  “It would be gone,” Olin said.

  “San Francisco?” she persisted.

  “Also gone.”

  “What about New York City?” Daisy asked.

  “Everything would be flooded,” Olin emphasized.

  “Even China?” Daisy’s eyes grew wide.

  “Everything!” Olin said again. “China is part of everything.”

  “That’s why closing the Glop source is our top priority right now,” Sach said, getting them back on topic. “It’ll stop the flow of new Toxites, make it impossible for the Witches to restore their wands, and it will protect the world from the devastation that will ensue when the brain nests are destroyed.”

  “Plus,” Olin added, “it buys us more time to get the scissors.”

  “Where are they?” Rho asked. Spencer was surprised that she hadn’t heard of them before, but then he remembered that the Dark Aurans thrived on keeping secrets from the girls.

  “Well . . .” Olin scratched behind his ear. “We lost them.”

  “You created the most powerful weapon in history,” V said, “and then lost it?”

  “We completely underestimated the toll it would take to create something that strong,” Aryl said. “The effort nearly killed us. We were left drained and vulnerable for weeks. It was months before the Glop recharged in our systems.”

  “When we regained consciousness,” Olin said, “the scissors were gone.”

  “We approached the other Aurans to ask if they’d seen anything suspicious,” Sach said, gesturing to V and Rho.

  “You accused us!” V yelled. “You had the audacity to accuse us of stealing after you had swiped the Manualis Custodem for yourselves!”

  “We were keeping the book safe until the proper time,” Sach countered.

  V shook her head, long white hair swaying. “We did what we had to do to keep you under control.”

  “We were weak,” Aryl said. “We could barely even stand when you dragged us out to the Broomstaff!”

  “If we had let you recover, you would have destroyed us all!” V said.

  “Enough!” Rho leapt to her feet, slamming her hands flat against the table. “This quarrel is centuries old. Let us work together.”

  V and the Dark Aurans settled back in their chairs as order was restored to the room.

  “Good,” Rho said, seating herself once more. “Now, what happened to the scissors?”

  “We don’t know,” Sach said, running a hand through his white hair. He shot an icy glare at V. “I’m sure someone stole them.”

  In response to the veiled accusation, V simply folded her arms and leaned back in her chair.

  “We have to find the scissors or this will never succeed,” Aryl said.

  “Can’t you just Glopify new scissors?” Spencer asked.

  “The effort nearly killed us the first time,” Olin answered. “Doing it again would surely finish the job.”

  “Those scissors have to be around here somewhere,” Daisy said. “We can search.”

  “We’ve searched,” Olin said. “We’ve spent the last two hundred years searching every inch of this landfill.”

  “Whoever stole the scissors,” Sach said, glaring again at V, “obviously didn’t want us to have them. Their first move was probably to get the scissors out of the landfill, knowing that once they were away, the curse of the Pan would stop us from ever reaching them.”

  “Now that we’re free to leave the landfill,” Aryl said, “it looks like our search parameters have opened up.”

  “I’ll try the Silver Swiffers,” Marv said.

  “What kind of name is that?” Dez retorted.

  “It’s a retirement group,” Marv said. “Bunch of old birds that worked for the Bureau back in the day. They get together on Tuesdays for Bingo.”

  “I love Bingo!” said Daisy. “What do they get if they win?”

  “Cleaning supplies,” Marv answered. “They can’t let go of the glory days, and many of them illegally collect Glopified supplies. They’ve got a lot of old gear. One-of-a-kind stuff. They might have come across the scissors.”

  “Silver Swiffers,” Spencer mused. He remembered hearing about them when the Rebels were picking a translator for the Manualis Custodem. “Wasn’t Professor Dustin DeFleur part of that group?”

  “The professor was dusting the floor?” Dez asked.

  “No,” Spencer said. “That’s his name.”

  “I don’t get it,” said Dez.

  “DeFleur was part of the group,” Marv said. “Before he rejoined the BEM.”

  “He must have lost at Bingo,” Daisy said.

  Walter had trusted Professor Dustin DeFleur to translate the Manualis Custodem. But the old professor had intentionally left out some very important parts of the handbook that kept the Rebels from knowing that the Witches were bad.

  Most recently, DeFleur had been hired as the P.E. teacher at Welcher Elementary. He kept an eye on the Glop source and sabotaged any work that Marv or the kids might attempt. Spencer, Daisy, and Dez had been skipping that class, usually sneaking down to the janitor’s closet to spend P.E. time with Marv.

  “Look into the Silver Swiffers,” Sach said. “I think it’s worth a shot.”

  “Meeting’s tomorrow in southern Florida,” Marv said. “Doesn’t leave me much time to get there.”

  “Then you’d better get on your way,” Olin said. “Do we have a truck in Florida?”

  Rho shook her head. “I think Lina’s parked in Atlanta. That’s our closest.”

  “Third dumpster from the left,” Olin told Marv, gesturing past the doorway to the concrete pad beyond. “Keys should be in the ignition. Jump through and drive the truck wherever you need to go.”

  “Best of luck,” Sach said. “Let’s hope you have some good news after Bingo.”

  Marv stood up and looked at Spencer and Daisy. Spencer really didn’t want the big janitor to go, but it would be worth it if Bingo gave him a lead on the scissors.

  “You two be all right?” he asked, rubbing a hand through his beard. Spencer and Daisy nodded. “Stay here. Be back tomorrow night,” he said. “Don’t get into trouble without me.”

  “Don’t worry,” Dez said. “We will.”

  “Have fun at Bingo,” said Daisy. “I hope you win.”

  Marv nodded brusquely at Spencer, crossed the room, and disappeared into the hallway. Something about his leaving made Spencer feel alone. As he looked around the table, he realized why.

  No adults.

  Their Rebel friends had all been captured, and now Marv was off on a mission of his own. Spencer, Daisy, and Dez were alone with the Aurans. And while the residents of the landfill were technically three hundred years old, they sure didn’t act like grown-ups.

  “This is
what we call divide and conquer,” Sach said. “While Marv is off playing Bingo with the old-timers, Rho and the girls can start gathering the ingredients we’ll need to close the source.”

  Rho nodded, using another spritz of V’s vanilla air freshener to keep Dez’s Sweeper breath at bay. “What do we need?”

  “Basic stuff,” Sach said. “A combination of six ingredients will close the Glop source.” He numbered them on his fingers as he went. “Eye of Grime, tooth of Filth, beak of Rubbish, bristles of a broom, blood of an Auran boy.”

  “Wait! What?” Spencer cut in. He remembered that the formula to open the source had included spit of an Auran. Now blood would be required?

  “So, which one of you chumps is going to die for this?” Dez asked.

  “No one’s going to die,” Olin said. “It only needs to be a drop of blood.”

  “That’s boring,” said Dez, pretending to lose interest in the conversation.

  “But the drop has to come from one of us,” Aryl said, gesturing to himself, Olin, and Sach.

  “What about Spencer?” Rho asked. “He’s an Auran.”

  “And he’s a boy,” Daisy pointed out.

  Olin nodded. “I hadn’t considered it. But Spencer’s blood would work too.”

  “That was only five ingredients,” V said. “What about the last one?”

  “The last ingredient . . .” Sach paused. “It might be a bit tricky to come by.”

  “What is it?” Spencer asked.

  “We’ll need a hair from the head of one of the Witches.”

  Chapter 7

  “They know I have a mysterious past.”

  What?” everyone cried in unison.

  “How are we supposed to get a hair from the Witches?” Spencer asked. “Run up and pluck one without them noticing?”

  “Nobody’s even seen the Witches since they arrived,” Rho said. “They’ve locked themselves in a room at New Forest Academy, waiting for General Clean and his Sweepers to find the bronze nails. We’ll never get close enough to pluck a hair from their heads.”

  “Maybe we don’t need to,” V said, standing up. She walked around the table until she stood behind Dez’s chair. Reaching behind him, she pulled a long white hair from the back of the chair. She held it out for everyone to see.

  “Whoa!” Dez said. “Was that the hair on my back? I had no idea it was so long!”

  “It’s not yours, Sweeper,” V said. “It’s mine. I’ve spent a lot of time sitting in these chairs. And what a Dark Auran boy may not know is rather obvious to a girl with long hair. It gets everywhere.”

  She let the single white hair fall to the floor and returned to her seat.

  “What are you suggesting?” Olin asked.

  “If the Witches have locked themselves in a room at New Forest Academy for the last six weeks,” V said, “then I’m guessing that’s where we’ll find plenty of hair.”

  “But the Witches aren’t going to leave,” Rho said. “The only reason they’d go out would be to get their wands.”

  “Then perhaps we should give them what they want,” V said.

  “No way!” Spencer shouted. Walter had died to keep those nails safe. Now V was suggesting that they offer them up? “Have you listened to anything we’ve said? If the Witches get those wands, the war is over for us.”

  “Relax,” V said. “I’d never be such a fool to give them the real nails. But perhaps we could lure them out with some counterfeits.”

  “Fake nails?” Rho said.

  “No, they’re real,” Daisy said, holding out her fingernails for everyone to see.

  “That’s not the kind of fake nails we’re talking about,” Spencer said.

  “That might be crazy enough to work,” Aryl said, agreeing with V for the first time.

  “The nails would have to be convincing,” Olin said. “And the moment the Witches throw them into the Glop source, they’ll know they’ve been tricked.”

  “It won’t matter,” V said. “All we need is a few minutes. Just enough time to slip into their empty room, collect a hair for the Glop formula, and get out. The Witches will return to the Academy in a rage, but by that time, we’ll already be at Welcher, tossing the ingredients into the drinking fountain and closing the source.”

  “I don’t know,” Spencer said. It sounded risky, and Spencer had a hard time trusting any plan that V might concoct.

  “I like it,” Sach said. “It needs some work, but I like it.”

  “How are we supposed to make perfect duplicates if we don’t even know where the real nails are?” Spencer pointed out.

  In response, Aryl reached into his cloak and withdrew a small item pinched between his finger and thumb. As he placed it on the table, Spencer saw that it was one of the antique nails. Sach produced the next one, setting it on display before him. Olin’s eyes flicked cautiously around the room before he withdrew the final nail from his pocket.

  Spencer felt a chill pass through him. He hadn’t seen the three bronze nails since the night Walter had died to protect them. It seemed careless to have them sitting in the open.

  “Alan gave them to you?” Daisy said. In the aftermath of the Witches’ return, Spencer’s dad had taken the bronze nails. When he had returned, Alan had assured the Rebels that the nails were so well hidden that even he did not know where they were.

  “Actually,” Sach said, “we got the nails from an old Thingamajunk named Bookworm.” He smiled at the look of surprise in Daisy’s eyes.

  She turned to Spencer. “Your dad must have given the nails to Bookworm and told him to hide them.”

  Spencer nodded. “That’s the only way my dad could get rid of them without knowing where they were hidden.”

  “Your Thingamajunk is quite a remarkable creature,” Olin said. “He visited us independently, delivering one nail to each of us. Instead of hiding them in the landfill, we kept them close. You don’t let something as important as the Witches’ wands out of your sight.”

  “Yet you seem to have let the scissors out of your sight.” V leaned forward and plucked Aryl’s nail off the table. Spencer tensed, but the Dark Aurans let her examine it, seeming to bite back a number of insults and accusations.

  “Lots of intricacies,” V muttered, spinning the nail between her slender fingers. “It’s not going to be easy to forge something to look this old. It has centuries of character.”

  “So do we,” Sach said. “The false nails will be convincing. I can promise you that.”

  The answer seemed to satisfy V, and she set the nail carefully before Aryl once more. The word of the Dark Aurans seemed to carry a lot of weight. If Sach said they could deliver, V believed him.

  “How do we expect to deliver these false nails to the Witches?” Spencer asked.

  “We could leave them in an obvious place and hope they stumble upon them?” Rho suggested.

  “That could take days—weeks,” said Aryl. “It’s time we don’t have.”

  “Maybe we can put them in a box on their front porch and doorbell ditch,” Daisy said.

  “I think that would seem a little suspicious,” Spencer said. “Besides, I don’t think the Witches will have a doorbell.”

  “Fine,” Dez said, kicking his feet onto the table and reclining his chair. “I’ll do it.” Everyone turned to him, and he used his wings to shrug. “I’ll deliver the fake nails to the Witches.”

  Spencer looked at the Sweeper suspiciously. “Why would you volunteer for that?”

  “Duh,” Dez said. “So we can get the stupid hair and close the Glop source.”

  Spencer shook his head. Dez was being a little too eager. “I don’t trust him. Besides, it’ll never work. People at the Academy know who you are.”

  “That’s exactly why it’ll work, Doofus,” Dez said. “They know I have a mysterious past.”

  “Traitorous past is more like it,” said Daisy. “You’ve double-crossed us so many times I got dizzy trying to figure out which side you were on.”


  “That’s what I’m saying!” Dez said. “It’s one of my great qualities.”

  “Being two-faced is not a great quality, Dez,” Spencer pointed out.

  “It is today,” he said. “I’ll show up at the Academy and they’ll see that I’m a Sweeper. I’ll tell them I betrayed you guys, stole the nails, and brought them to the Witches. They’ll totally let me in.”

  Spencer wished Marv were still there to shut down Dez’s bad idea. Instead, the Dark Aurans embraced it.

  “We can’t let you go alone,” Aryl said. “You’ll need backup in case something goes wrong.”

  “Of course something will go wrong!” Spencer cried. “We’re talking about Dez!”

  “Then it sounds like we’ll need someone to chaperone this little mission,” Olin said.

  “I’ll go with him,” V volunteered. “No one was more disappointed by the Witches’ return than I was. If we’re going to hit them, I’d like to be there to witness it.”

  Sach shook his head. “Your hair’s a bit of a giveaway,” he said. “Besides, the Witches know every single Auran. They made us into what we are.”

  Spencer shrugged. “I can’t go with Dez either. The Witches will recognize me immediately. I was there when they returned.”

  “I suppose that leaves Daisy,” said Rho, turning to her. “How would you like to be Dez’s date back to New Forest Academy?”

  Dez moaned. Spencer looked at his wide-eyed classmate. Daisy swallowed hard. “My dad says I’m not old enough to date.”

  “Think of it more like Dezmond’s bodyguard,” Aryl said.

  “No way!” Dez yelled. “I don’t need a bodyguard. Check this out!” He leapt to his feet, conjuring up a belch from deep within his stomach. When it rumbled forth, he turned away from the table, spewing a stream of black dust across the room. “Do you think someone who can do that needs a bodyguard?” He sat back down in his chair as a coughing fit struck him. “Give me a drink.” Dez reached out for V’s mug of soda, but she moved it away protectively.

  “We can’t let Daisy go in alone with him!” Spencer pleaded.