The crowd of over 150 human reporters continues to cheer for Darkins. Many are slapping the samples of Elixir of the Sea included in the original press kits onto their faces. They must've read the blurb in the glossy inserts about how the cream will give them the appearance of eternal youth.
Darkins stands next to me, waving at the audience like some kind of monarch. He doesn't even seem to notice I'm there—it's like I'm a tiny bug, not even worth swatting. He makes a small gesture, and a half-dozen of his guards walk toward the stage. "Oh, yes, my dear," says Darkins very quietly. "I not only switched the press kits, but I have also destroyed all of yours. Not very bright of you, hiding the press kits in the trunk of my limousine. I had to get in there for a change of clothes after you soiled my suit with your clumsiness. You were almost too easy to defeat. Barely any fun at all."
What? Darkins' trunk was the safe hiding place Cupid talked about? And what does he mean, 'clumsy?' I threw him into a window!
My classmates at the back of the room—about fifty of them, including Khione, Vang, Lily-Bella, Thunder, and his wolf-pack—watch the guards approach the stage. Lily-Bella nods at me and raises her sword-shaped wand. I shake my head and mouth, "Not yet." She nods back.
Pierce is pacing at the front of the stage, awaiting the guards. What's he going to do? Attack them all at once in front of everyone? I know he can, but doesn't he realize it will be on international television? I project this thought at him. He glances back at me in time to see Darkins grab my arm, trying to keep me in place, allowing the guards to catch me.
"Let go," I snarl, twisting in his grip.
"Don't think so, mermaid," he says out of the side of his mouth, still waving and smiling at the crowd.
Pierce glares at Darkins.
Pierce, I got this; I think at him. Don't eat anyone, okay?
Pierce frowns; his eyes focused on Darkins' hand on my arm. I can tell my boyfriend wants to relieve Darkins of every drop of blood coursing through his evil veins.
"Pierce, watch out!" I yell as the guards suddenly bound onto the stage behind him.
Pierce pivots, grips the torso of the closest guard, and tosses him at the others. The guards fall into a jumble of chaos. The audience of reporters is stunned. For a moment, it's quiet as they look at one another in shock. Once they've recovered enough, they grin. A story is happening before their eyes. They jockey for position, holding up their cameras to try to get the best view of the fight.
"Seize them, you idiots!" Darkins bellows at his henchmen, pointing at Pierce and me. The guards scramble up from their pile.
Darkins is squeezing my arm so hard, I can feel the bruises forming. I take that pain, clench my teeth, and—oops! Did I mean to kick him in the crotch?
Darkins goes down on his knees, clutching his 'parts' and screaming like a demented seagull.
The guards are about to grab me when Pierce blocks them. He crosses his arms over his chest and widens his stance. "Touch her and die," he says in a low, menacing growl that sends goosebumps prickling up my arms and neck.
The guards pause, look at one another, then Darkins, then back at Pierce.
"You fools!" Darkins says in a pain-enhanced, high-pitched, very satisfying squeak.
It's mayhem. One hundred and fifty cameras are clicking and flashing, and almost as many languages are being spoken into microphones. Our classmates in the back are trying to worm their way through the crowd to get to us. The noise is almost too much to bear.
"Silence!" Pierce has Darkins' microphone. His voice booms through the marquee. The room quiets immediately, as if they know Pierce is a real predator, the top of the food chain. "I have proof."
"Proof of what?" Darkins scoffs, his oily tone returning.
"Proof of your crimes," says Pierce.
How does he have proof? Has Pierce gone insane? We've got nothing now that the folders have been switched, and all of our original documents have been destroyed by Darkins.
Pierce pulls a cellphone out of his pocket.
"My phone!" says Darkins. "Give that back!"
"I don't think so," says Pierce. "What I recorded on this device will prove your guilt." Pierce pushes a button and holds the phone up to the microphone.
"I know all about what you're doing. How you're making Elixir of the Sea. How the manufacturing of that beauty cream produces horrible toxic waste. And I know you're storing it in a cave, and it's leaking into Tomales Bay. Why would you want to obliterate an entire ecosystem? Kill innocent creatures? You're a monster, Dirk Darkins!"
"Oh, my dear Miss Spring. I take your assessment of me as a monster, as a compliment. I am actually far worse than any monster. Born that way, I'm afraid. And as far as dumping the toxic waste in the ocean, well, it has to go somewhere. Can't have government inspectors finding the stuff at my production site. I'm sure the bay will recover. In a couple hundred years."
"But you're destroying lives."
"They're only fish. No one will care."
Darkins' face turns the same shade of red as a shark's mouth right after it's fed. A rivulet of sweat drips down the side of his face. Pierce pauses the recording.
"It's fake," Darkins lies. He tries to snatch the phone back, but Pierce captures Darkins' arm and twists it behind his back.
"If you move, or make another sound, I promise I will break your arm," Pierce says quietly. He hits the play button again with his thumb.
"The press is going to go wild. The only thing they'll care about is that they get to break the story about how my product will revolutionize the beauty industry. They won't give a rat's ass about a few fish."
For a moment, the crowd is silent. Darkins' mouth hangs open, his dual-toned eyes drowning in a combination of hate and rage. Wait! His eyes! One blue and one green. They're multi-colored like rainbow eyes, but only one color per eye, like some genetic anomaly. He IS part mer! Once we've destroyed his barn, and he is in custody, I will find out about his mer heritage. I want to know how someone who is part mer could wish to poison the oceans. Thunder will enjoy handling the interrogation, and I want answers.
Pierce doesn't move. Neither do the guards.
Suddenly, Darkins twists out of Pierce's grip. He stands and grabs a gun out of his pocket—it looks like the one from the limo. In a flash of almost vampire speed, Darkins pulls me against his chest and holds the gun to my head, the cold metal pushing into my temple. His face is so close to mine, I can feel his sticky and moist breath. It smells of seaweed and salt and mermaid tears. I gasp. It must be the Elixir of the Sea. I wonder if it has a different effect on him than on humans? Has it made him stronger and faster and crazier? Poseidon's beard!
"I think you'd better cooperate, 'Mr. Molar,'" says Darkins in a low tone through clenched teeth, "if you want your girlfriend to live. Perhaps I'll let you watch while I harvest her tears. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
I struggle against Darkins, but cannot break away because of how he's holding me; he is so strong. Pierce's eyes are wild; I can see him trying to figure out whether he can kill Darkins before Darkins can squeeze the trigger.
"I think you'd better put that away, Darkins. Before someone gets hurt," I say. I am completely calm. My hair is quiet. Because I know something he doesn't.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Vang, Khione, Beauty and her Beast, Little Red Riding Hood, The Three Little Pigs, and the rest of the werewolves in the back. The air around the pack members shimmers, and their bodies transform into their wolf forms. It is amazing! I have never seen them change before. They stand on two legs. They are at least seven feet tall and covered in fur. Their costumes have somehow disappeared. They have long snouts, yellow eyes, and enormous teeth. But even so, they are not crazed or wild. They are beautiful and harmonious. Thunder is the largest, with a thick roan coat the same color as his hair when he's in human form.
The wolves stalk easily through the crowd, and I can tell from their stealth and the power rippling from their shoulders that they are a pack, communicating wordlessly, like a school of fish that don't need a discussion to know how to traverse the sea. I wait for the crowd to start shrieking about the werewolves, but instead, they point and stare at the wolves and marvel at their great 'costumes.'
The wolves vault onto the stage snarling, citrine eyes flaring. Charlotte, with shiny jet-black fur, arrives first. She growls, pulling her lips back to reveal drooling canines. She leaps at Darkins, but he ducks. He recovers instantly and dashes toward the exit, barreling over people, cameras, and anything else in his way.
Darkins runs out of the marquee, followed by the pack. Pierce takes my hand. "Let's get out of here!"
"Pierce, what about all these people? We can't let them go outside and see the wolves in action."
"It's okay, Wave. Go!" It's Cupid, wearing nothing but pearls discreetly arranged to cover his 'parts' and a bow tie, his bronze, ripped chest gleaming. A few people in the front rows gasp and faint at the glorious sight of him. Where has he been this whole time? Backstage with the nymphs? "Lily-Bella, Vang, Khione?" Cupid calls.
"Yes?" they say in unison.
"Watch the exit. No one leaves," says Cupid.
"But how will you keep them here against their will?" I say, trying not to look at Cupid's pearls.
"Oh, they won't want to leave," says Cupid. "Ladies?"
The nymphs join Cupid on the stage, still smelling of coconut and pineapple. "Yes, Cupie?"
"Time to dance."
He waves his hand, and music blasts through the room, something about it being close to midnight and that evil is lurking. Well, that's true!
"Go, Waverly, Pierce! Believe me, no one will want to miss the nymphs' dance."
"Thanks, Cupid," I say.
The moment we're outside, Pierce takes to the air, and we're flying in the cool night under the fat full moon. The wolves have Darkins, one holding each of his limbs, and they're carrying him toward the old oak that I hid behind that first night. It's about a hundred yards from the barn.
The pack quickly secures Darkins to the tree with what must be remnants of the wiring for the explosives they laid in the barn earlier. Thunder's dream has come true at last! Darkins is yelling, I can't quite make out what he's saying, but I think he's questioning whether the wolves' parents were married. This only seems to infuriate the wolves further. The wolves snap at his face. Darkins screams. I kiss Pierce's rough, cool cheek. "You saved the day. How did you record that conversation with Darkins?"
"I had the phone, and the privacy screen in the limo wasn't all the way up. I thought it couldn't hurt to have a recording of what that slime said to you. And you got a full confession out of him! You're brilliant, Wave."
Darkins screams some more as the wolves tighten the wires. "I didn't do very much. Darkins enjoyed bragging about his dastardly deeds. Let's go help the wolves," I say.
"You can watch from here, where I can keep you safe."
"Pierce, Darkins has been destroying the oceans, not to mention kidnapping and torturing my kin. I want to confront him. I need this! I must go down there!"
"You won't ever listen to me, will you?"
"Most likely not."
Pierce sighs, even though he doesn't need to breathe. "That's what I figured." He plunges to the ground in front of Darkins.
Darkins' eyes are wide as he watches us land. "What the hell are you?" Darkins demands of Pierce.
Pierce drops his fangs. Darkins squeals.
Now it's my turn to grin evilly. "You better believe it, Darkins. He's a vampire. And I happen to know your blood smells delicious to him." Darkins swallows hard. I can see his carotid artery quiver because his hair is pulled back into a ponytail—the proverbial vampire invitation.
"Don't worry, Darkins," Pierce says. "I don't want your tainted blood. I think I'll let the wolves take care of you."
The wolves have located a large black pan from the Chinese food truck—the perfect blunt object. I think it's called a wok. Thunder holds the large wooden handle in one hand and hits his enormous furry palm against the bottom of the wok.
"No matter what happens to me," Darkins sneers, "in the end, you will fail. No one can imprison the great Dirk Darkins for long, and I practically own the legal system. I'll still be rich and successful, and you'll be nothing. Just like you are now!"
"We are taking you down, Darkins. This ends tonight," I say.
"Hahaha! You and what army? How are you going to defeat me?"
Thunder slams the wok into Darkins' chest.
He screams and then has a coughing fit. "You will never succeed." Darkins forces out the words. "I have enough product in that warehouse to finance the best lawyers in the world. That barn contains my equipment, my research, all of it. I have plans to move everything in there to a safe house. You are only delaying the inevitable."
"I don't think so," I say. "Your life's work is about to go up in flames."
"You lie! I have already won!" He's smirking! I really hate it when he does that. "Guards!" yells Darkins. A couple dozen more guards emerge from the shadows.
"Boss?" says Igor, strolling over in front of the group.
"Initiate Project Relocation," yells Darkins. "I want that barn cleared and its contents moved to the safe house. Now!"
"Sure, Boss," says Igor. "Men!"
The security guards run toward the barn. All the wolves follow except for Charlotte. She reaches behind the tree and pulls out a red detonation box with a handle on top.
"Sorry, Darkins," I say. "Time to blow up your barn. Quick, Charlotte! Before the guards get too close to the blast zone."
Charlotte pushes down on the plunger. Nothing happens.
"What's wrong?" I ask, horrified.
"Charlotte, did you connect the detonator to the explosives?" says Pierce.
Charlotte stomps her big furry foot and glares at Pierce. "I'll take that as a yes," I say.
Darkins bursts into fits of laughter. "What did I just tell you, losers? I've already won! I cut the wires. Piece of cake. You children ought to leave the espionage to the big boys."
"Let's go," I say, already running toward the barn. "We have to stop them from getting anything out of there!" But how? Darkins seems to have an unlimited supply of guards—it's almost as if he has an army. We are clearly running out of options.
The guards are almost at the entrance when something comes flying out from behind the barn and lands in front of the door. It's Cyril. He's hee-hawing like crazy at the guards, baring his teeth and kicking up his hind legs if anyone gets close.
"Shoot him!" yells Igor.
"No!" I scream. "Cyril, get away!"
I've almost reached the guards when something rumbles overhead. Everyone drops to the ground. The sky darkens; the full moon is totally obscured. There is fire shooting across the sky. Pierce helps me to my feet. "What is it?" I shout over the noise.
A terrible roar shakes the landscape. Leathery wings flap so hard, my hair flies as if in a gale. "Holy Poseidon! It's a dragon! And is that Pickles on its back?"
"I'd say yes," says Pierce with a huge grin. "It is Pickles. And it looks like Fintan has finally found his true form."
The pair zooms through the wall of the barn—splinters of wood fly everywhere. The heat is overwhelming.
"Get back, everyone!" yells Pierce.
"Get me out of here!" yells Darkins, still tied to the tree a few yards away. "What the hell is that thing?"
The guards are frozen in disbelief. Each werewolf grabs a guard and pushes him to safety. Cyril takes to the sky, as do Pierce and I. We're once again flying over the ranch. There is a tremendous boom as half of the barn explodes. But, oh, no! Pickles and Fintan are still inside. I hold my breath, praying they are all right.
After what feels like an eternity, the pair crashes through the other side. They fly in circles around the barn, faster and faster. So fast, the fire rages like a cylinder into the sky. The flames seem almost high enough to touch the moon. In seconds, the entire barn is nothing but ash. And the dragon is out of sight, lost in the smoky haze.
Darkins, who has been silent throughout the attack, bursts into tears. "No, no, no! This can't be. You can't have beaten me. No!"
"Yes!" I say. "We did beat you. All of us beat you."
The air around the wolves shimmers once again, and they are back in human form, wearing their totally non-shredded Halloween costumes as if by magic.
"Supernatural freaks," Darkins spits, still arrogant despite his defeat.
Thunder grabs the wok from where he had dropped it earlier. He walks over to Darkins. "Never call my pack 'freaks,'" says Thunder. "I've had enough of you for one night." Thunder brings down the wok hard on Darkins' head, and for the second time in one evening, he is unconscious. Thunder is grinning like a crazy man. Lily-Bella comes running out of the marquee and leaps into his arms! "Did you see that, babe?"
"I did, Thundy." Thunder kisses Lily-Bella, then holds her in the air and twirls. "You were brilliant, but you're getting your lipstick on me, and I don't look good in magenta!"
"Oh, yes, you do," says Thunder, kissing her again. She does nothing to stop him.
Khione and Vang exit the marquee holding hands. Khione takes one look at the scene and waves her free hand prettily over the landscape. It's snowing now, big, thick flakes falling from the sky, and in moments the air is so full of snow that it's hard to see more than a few inches in any direction. The ground is covered in a blanket of white, sparkling in the orange fairy lights from above. It's a wonderland.
Cupid and the nymphs exit next, allowing the humans to pour outside, oohing and ahhing at the winter like beauty. My classmates herd the humans up the road. The engines from the fleet of buses that waits to take them back to their hotels thrum and vibrate. I breathe a sigh of relief as the last bus rumbles away.
Suddenly, the wind whips up, and the snow blows across the farm. The clear air booms, and there is a monstrous screech. Fintan soars over us. Now that I can get a good look at him, I realize his black wings are twice as large as the dragons we saw in the fairy dimension.
He shoots out a hundred-foot flare of fire; I think he's showing off a little, but we all cheer and clap. Then he dives and lands so fast, his talons kick up the gravel as they dig into the earth.
Pickles leaps off of his back and runs to me. We are hugging, and neither of us cares that we are squeezing each other so hard we might break one another's bones. The dragon bursts into flame, and Fintan, now in human form, clad in black leather, steps from the fire. Once he is out of the blaze, the fire swirls around him, and it seems as if his body absorbs it until it extinguishes. Wow!
"We've done it!" Pickles says, pointing at the barn. "All of us! Like I said, Wave, there is no way I could let you do anything dangerous without my help. I am your fairy godmother, after all. By the way, do you like the dress?"
"Are you kidding? I love it! And I love you!"
"Fintan, my friend," Pierce says, slapping Fintan on the back. "I guess you finally figured out what you are!"
"I did," says Fintan. "And it turns out I have a family."
I hug Fintan. "I'm so glad!"
"And speaking of family ..." says Pierce.
A procession of limos drives into the graveled courtyard. The first person to leap out of the lead car, before it's even stopped, is my dad. He slams the door and runs toward me so fast it's as if he's in turboswim.
"Dad!"
"Waverly Marie Fishwater!"
Uh, oh.