Peter Lerangis - The Curse of the King

The Tides Turn

First published in the USA by HarperCollins Publishers Inc in 2015

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2015

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd,

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London, SE1 9GF

The HarperCollins website address is

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright © HarperCollins Publishers 2015

Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers , 2015

Cover art © Torstein Norstrand, 2015

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780007586554

Ebook Edition © 2015 ISBN: 9780007586561

Version: 2015-02-05

FOR MOM AND DAD,

WHO HAVE READ EVERYTHING

SINCE THE VERY FIRST SENTENCE

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One: The Wrath of Yappy

Chapter Two: Twerp Perps, Snalp, and the Fat Lady

Chapter Three: The Enemy of Interesting

Chapter Four: The Barry

Chapter Five: Shard Luck

Chapter Six: Aly-Bye

Chapter Seven: Down and out in LA

Chapter Eight: The Humpty Dumpty Project

Chapter Nine: Mausoleum Dream

Chapter Ten: If it Looks Like a Hoax …?

Chapter Eleven: God of Couch Potatoes

Chapter Twelve: Biiiig Trouble

Chapter Thirteen: The Fourth Loculus

Chapter Fourteen: Escape from the Nostril

Chapter Fifteen: The Dream Continued

Chapter Sixteen: A Goat Moment

Chapter Seventeen: Battle on the Mount

Chapter Eighteen: Loser, Loser, Loser

Chapter Nineteen: Deifirtep

Chapter Twenty: In the Matter of Victor Rafael QuiÑones

Chapter Twenty One: Slipping Away

Chapter Twenty Two: Massa Island

Chapter Twenty Three: Good Enough for the Cockroaches

Chapter Twenty Four: The Illusion of Control

Chapter Twenty Five: In Hexad de Heptimus Veritas

Chapter Twenty Six: Lifeline

Chapter Twenty Seven: The Seventh Codex

Chapter Twenty Eight: His Jackness

Chapter Twenty Nine: What’s a Few Million Lives …?

Chapter Thirty: Esiole

Chapter Thirty One: The King of Toast

Chapter Thirty Two: Reunion

Chapter Thirty Three: Preposserous

Chapter Thirty Four: My Sister the Monster

Chapter Thirty Five: Goon Number Seven

Chapter Thirty Six: Pull my Finger

Chapter Thirty Seven: The Meathead Starts Over

Chapter Thirty Eight: Ambush

Chapter Thirty Nine: Fiddle and Bones

Chapter Fourty: The Labyrinth and the Tapestry

Chapter Fourty One: Is not Gorilla

Chapter Fourty Two: The Teflon King

Chapter Fourty Three: Braggart, Traitor, Deserter, Killer?

Chapter Fourty Four: The Sword and the Rift

Chapter Fourty Five: Something Much Wors

Epilogue

About the Publisher

HAVING LESS THANa year to live doesn’t feel great, but it’s worse when you’re in a cop car that smells of armpits, cigarettes, and dog poop. “Don’t New York City cops ever clean their cars?” Cass Williams mumbled.

I turned my nose to the half-open window. Aly Black was at the other end of the backseat, but Cass was stuck in the middle. Outside, music blared from a nearby apartment window. An old woman walking a Chihuahua eyed us and began yelling something I couldn’t quite make out.

“Okay, what do we do now, Destroyer?” Cass asked.

“‘Jack’ is still my name,” I said.

“‘The Destroyer Shall Rule,’ that was the prophecy,” Aly replied. “And your mom pointed at you.”

“We were invisible! She could have been pointing at …” My voice trailed off. It was after midnight, but the way they were both glaring at me, I felt like I needed sunglasses. I was beginning to think throwing that last Loculus under a train might not have been a great idea. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. But I had to do it, or everyone would have died. You would have done the same thing!”

Aly sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just … an adjustment, that’s all. I mean, we had a chance. And now …”

She gave me a sad shrug. We’re dead , is what she didn’t say. A genetic mutation was on target to kill us before the age of fourteen. And I had sabotaged our chance to be cured. Seven Loculi was what we needed. Now one of them was in pieces under a train.

I sank back into the smelly seat. As the car slowed to a stop in front of a squat brick police station, our driver called out, “Home sweet home!”

She was a tall, long-faced woman named Officer Wendel. Her partner, Officer Gomez, quickly hauled himself out from the passenger side. He was barely taller than me but twice my width. The car rose an inch or so when he exited. “Your papa’s inside, dude,” he said. “Make nice with him and make sure we don’t see you again.”

“You won’t,” Aly replied.

“Wait!” cried the old woman with the Chihuahua. “Those are devil children!”

Officer Gomez paused, but another cop waved him in. “You go ahead,” he said wearily. “We’ll take care of Mrs. Pimm.”

“I recognize her,” Aly whispered. “She’s the person who shows up in movie credits as Crazy New York City Neighbor.”

As Officer Gomez rushed us inside and down a short, grimy hallway, I eyed my backpack, which was slung over his shoulder. The Loculus of Flight and the Loculus of Invisibility formed two big, round bulges.

He had peeked inside but not too carefully. Which was lucky for us.

Officer Wendel walked ahead and pushed open the door to a waiting room. Dad was sitting on a plastic chair, and he stood slowly. His face was drawn and pale.

“Officers Gomez and Wendel, Washington Heights Precinct,” Gomez said. “We responded to the missing-persons alert. Found them while investigating a commotion up by Grant’s Tomb.”

“Thank you, officers,” Dad said. “What kind of commotion? Are they in trouble?”

“Healthy and unharmed.” Gomez unhooked the pack and set it on a table. “We had reports of noises, people in costume—gone by the time we got there.”

Officer Wendel chuckled. “Well, a few weirdoes in robes near the train tracks, picking up garbage. Guess the party was over. Welcome to New York!”

Dad nodded. “That’s a relief. I—I’ll take them home now.”

He reached for the backpack, but Officer Wendel was already unzipping it and looking inside. “Just a quick examination,” she said with an apologetic look. “Routine.”

“Officer Gomez did it already!” I pointed out.

Before Gomez could respond, a sharp barking noise came from the hallway. The old lady was inside, with her dog. Officer Wendel looked toward the noise.