“I was the first to get a stamp,” she said uncertainly, showing the back of her hand. “I’m a Jet. I can fly.”
Although clearly surprised and upset, Mr. Stott was trying to keep calm. “I was very worried about you.”
“Then maybe you should have let me help,” Lindy said. “I wasn’t going to let my friends go into danger without me. I wasn’t going to ignore John Dart and Mozag.”
Mr. Stott rubbed his face. “This places me in a difficult position, Lindy.”
“I’m a Jet too,” Nate said. “We found out who owns Arcadeland.”
“Who?”
“Jonas White.”
Mr. Stott blanched. “Mrs. White’s brother?”
Nate nodded.
“Oh, dear,” Mr. Stott said. He started pacing. “This is . . . this is . . .” He stopped pacing and held out his arms. “Lindy, come here.”
Lindy crossed to Mr. Stott, who enfolded her in a fierce hug.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Lindy said, her voice choked with emotion.
“I know,” Mr. Stott said. “I placed you in a tough position. It’s hard when I make a rule that conflicts with what you feel is right. I know you didn’t disobey me casually.”
“I didn’t,” she said.
“I’m glad that you’re all right,” Mr. Stott said. Ending the hug, he placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “You realize that you’re in great danger.”
“All of us are,” she replied.
“We’ll talk more later,” Mr. Stott said. “Go wash up. I need to have some words with Nate in private.”
“How much trouble am I in?” Lindy asked hesitantly.
“I should be the least of your worries,” Mr. Stott said. “You’re now involved in something truly perilous. I can’t undo what you have done. But I’ll do my best to help you.”
She gave a nod and glanced at Nate. “Thanks for coming with me.”
“Sure,” he said.
She flew over to the stairway and glided up out of sight. Mr. Stott followed her with his eyes. He waited until he heard the door to their apartment open and close, then motioned for Nate to follow him to his private office.
Mr. Stott closed the door and stood near Nate, speaking in a low voice. “How long do the stamps last?”
“At least two days,” Nate said. “Then I guess the power starts to fade.”
“You have real flight?” Mr. Stott asked. “Like Peter Pan? Like Superman?”
“Yeah,” Nate said.
“Does it tire you?”
“No, not at all,” Nate realized. “Less than walking. I mean, you have to focus. If you crash you can get hurt, so you do have to concentrate. But I’ve been flying most of the day, and my body isn’t tired at all.”
“Very potent magic,” Mr. Stott said. “I doubt I could devise such an enhancement if I spent the rest of my days slaving on the project.” His expression changed, becoming more concerned. “What has he told her?”
“Nothing,” Nate said. “I’m not even sure if he knows.”
“How could he not know?” Mr. Stott fretted. He folded his arms. “I suppose it’s possible. Maybe so much time has passed. One sibling could be considerably older than the other. Or they might have been separated in their youth. But I suspect he must know. What is he after?”
“We’re not supposed to tell,” Nate said. “He’s on a treasure hunt. Some great thingamajig made by a guy called Iwa Iza.”
“Interesting,” Mr. Stott said, stretching the word out. “He’s looking for Uweya.”
“That’s the word he used,” Nate said. “What is it?”
Mr. Stott gave a slow shrug, raising his hands vaguely. “A legend. Iwa Iza was a great mage who lived long, long ago. His creations interacted with the environment. He allegedly made a bowl that could summon a tornado, and a drum that could cause an earthquake. His greatest creation, Uweya, is shrouded in mystery. I know of it, but I know little about it. I’m not sure anyone does.”
“Jonas must know something,” Nate said.
“He is certainly behaving as though Uweya were more than a myth,” Mr. Stott agreed. “I’ll start researching the subject. Quietly, of course.”
“What do we do about Lindy?” Nate asked.
Mr. Stott shook his head sadly. “Our options are limited. We could let the Battiatos take her away. They would have to imprison her. I expect such a course would destroy any chance of her being rehabilitated and living a normal life. Otherwise, with her in your stamp club and Jonas aware of her, we would just need to ride this out and see where it goes.”
“She seems loyal to us,” Nate said.
“Jonas could have a plan to turn her,” Mr. Stott said. “I don’t think he can undo the Clean Slate, but what do I know? I would have considered the flight enhancement he gave you virtually impossible. Would you mind if I studied the ink?”
“Go ahead,” Nate said.
Mr. Stott stared at the back of Nate’s hand. He examined it with a magnifying glass. He sniffed it. He rubbed it with a few cloths of different textures. “Interesting. I suppose I can do further studies on Lindy. Have you learned anything about John Dart?”
“There are many rooms at Arcadeland that Lindy can’t see. We haven’t had much chance to investigate. Mr. Stott, you wouldn’t turn Lindy over to the Battiatos?”
“No, not while she remains loyal to us. I’m glad you’re in this Jet club with her. You need to keep an eye on her, Nate. If you have any misgivings . . .”
“You’ll be the first to know,” Nate assured him. “I like the new Lindy, but I’d rather throw her in jail for the rest of her life than have Belinda White back.”
Chapter Eleven
Simulcrist
By the following afternoon, the training facility had begun to feel crowded. Roman had joined the Tanks, Trevor had earned his racecar stamp, and, after receiving his submarine stamp, Pigeon showed up with a pretty blonde named Mindy. Nate and Summer had helped their friends earn tickets that morning, although the great majority were won by Trevor and Pigeon using Peak Performance.
While the other Jets took a water break, Nate hung out near the ceiling, watching as Summer, Roman, and Derek brutalized punching bags. Pigeon and his new teammate were in the pool. Since they hadn’t surfaced for half an hour but still swam around like dolphins, they could obviously breathe underwater. Lacking fellow club members, Trevor zipped around the warehouse at astonishing speeds, trying out various activities alone. Nate was most impressed when Trevor grabbed a football and threw a long bomb to himself.