Secrets, Lies and Dragonflies

Chapter 37

Isabella examines the fortune teller map once more before tucking it into her back pocket. Contents in the satchel she has strapped over her shoulder rattle when she shoves it to the side. With her manicured nails and soft voice, I wouldn't have pegged her to be the sort on a mission to find grotesque creatures, but her no nonsense glare surveying the area says otherwise. "The other two Invaders can't be far. I'm going to hang back for just a minute more and see if I spot them, Brittany."

"Sounds good. I'll head down to the tower and check the place out." The lanky brunette jogs off toward the shore front.

"Wait. So are you saying there are two more of those things out there?" I ask,
hovering close to Isabella.

"Yep," she replies, as if I were asking about the weather, and not about alien monsters who talk and hiss and impersonate humans.

My spine stiffens. "Then what are we waiting for? We need to get that little boy out of here." I say, demanding action. "If you can see them for what they truly are, then you know he doesn't stand a chance!"

Unfazed by my petition, Isabella continues to span the area. "You must be new at this, I take it?" she asks.

"By this, if you mean being trapped and helpless and possibly going insane?" I say, debating whether or not I'm talking to another one of my friendly neighborhood hallucinations. "Then yeah, it's not a typical school day for me."

For some reason, that got her attention. "Wow, school? Still? Sounds like you haven't finished your training yet. Impressive. I don't think I could have handled seeing Invaders being as new at this as you. You're doing pretty well then, kid."

Being called kid from someone who isn't much older than me is a little irritating. "I'm guessing you're one, too? A Thyatiran? or whatever...."

Her stoic gaze gives way to a broad smile of unmistakable pride. "That I am."

I don't understand how it could be possible, but I'm starting to wonder if this place might be real. Even my overactive imagination can't be this elaborate. Playing cat and mouse games with these crazed man-beasts isn't my idea of fun. If I had it my way, we would just go in like normal vigilantes and get Spencer out of harm's way. "If that's the case, and since no one else can see these things except you and me—"

"And Ms. Tabitha, don't forget," she adds.

"Right," I mumble, knowing she's referring to Ms. Morris.

"There are others, you know. Not just us," she says. "You'll meet them on missions with other Shillelaghs. And of course, we can't forget about the Watchers. A very hush-hush network of Thyatirans. You won't hear much about them, though."

"The Watchers?" I shake my head. "Never mind. Don't answer that." All I want her to do is explain why we're doing nothing but waiting. "Can I ask you something?"

"Ah, the burning questions of new Thyatirans. Let me guess. I love guessing games." She says, playfully. "The answer to the first question is No. No one else in my Shillelagh has a clue how none of this makes any logical sense. Like the sudden costume changes." She picks up her foot. "Take these flip flops for instance. We were wearing combat boots just a minute ago then poof, I'm sporting these."

I shake my head. "Yeah, it is weird my classmates aren't freaked out by all this, but that's not what I was going to ask--"

"Then no. No to your second question. No one realizes I've ascended. Now I think that was two questions." She grins, then resumes surveillance duty. "Come on. We have to move."

I follow behind, now even more confused. What did she mean by ascended?

We pause under a vacant beach umbrella where we still have a visual on Spencer sitting in the sand. He's surrounded. Ashley and Christina are on one side while the other two girls from Isabella's group are on the other. He picks his head up, face swollen from crying and practically drowning. Christina says something that makes him laugh. Ashley and another girl offer him a hand up. He comes to his feet, picks his surfboard off the ground and, with his entourage in tow, makes his way toward the announcer's table. He's given a numbered yellow rash guard, puts it on, and assumes a position at the starting line next to the surfer Shrewdy and Calculous were taunting moments ago.