The Society of Imaginary Friends

Panic rose inside of Valerie, and the Laurel Circle grew noticeably colder on her thumb. But before her fear could swallow her up, she heard the sound of someone moaning softly in the cell next to her. She went over to the bars that separated her from the cell next to her and called, “Cy, is that you? It’s going to be okay.”

“Val?”

Cyrus was curled into a tight ball, shivering. Tears filled her eyes, and she knelt down. “It’s me.”

She touched his cold hands through the bars. “We’re going to die, aren’t we?” he asked. His voice sounded lifeless.

Rage rose up in her. Whoever had taken away the light and life from his eyes would pay. Fury infused her with energy, and the magic that had been suppressed when Zunya was near welled up inside of her. She allowed herself to relish the feeling before she turned back to Cyrus. “What happened to you?”

“That woman, Sanguina, asked me questions about you. When I wouldn’t answer, she hurt me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I tried to fight back, to use light to scare her away like I did last time. I did my best, Val, I swear! But there is so little light to pull from inside of this place… not nearly enough to hurt her. I’m sorry.”

Without realizing it, she clenched her hands into fists. She had never yearned to make someone suffer before, but now there was nothing she craved so badly as to make Sanguina beg her for mercy—and then to deny her plea. The darkness inside of Valerie frightened her a little, and she forced herself to breathe slowly. She needed to channel her anger and adrenaline as Gideon had taught her, not waste it on her hate.

“You didn’t fail. This is my fault—she never would have kidnapped you if it weren’t for me. But one way or another, I’m going to stop her, I swear.”

“No! Stay away from her and Zunya! They’re too strong, and the more scared you are, the more pain you’re in, the more they love it. Fear and pain are like food to them.”

Hearing Cyrus sound so defeated made Valerie physically sick. “It isn’t over yet,” she said softly.

“I wish there was a little light in here, something to drive the darkness away. I’m going to disappear inside it.”

For the first time, she remembered the flower of light that she always kept in her pocket. Gently, she took it out and held it up to the bars. Cyrus’s face, streaked with dirt and blood, appeared in the soft, golden light. He had to be exhausted and scared, but a small smile appeared as he took the flower in his hands. As she watched, the light seemed to put life back into Cyrus’s blue eyes. She could hear the other prisoners stirring in their cells, aroused from their silent stupor by the little flower of pure light.

“I know it seems hopeless, but I have a plan. Zunya captured me, but before he did, I sent my sword back to the callbox. This time, when I face Sanguina, I’ll be ready. I’ll be armed, and if I can channel my magic, I know I have a chance.”

Cyrus’s face became thoughtful. “Call the sword. I have an idea.”

“Pathos!” she said, and it appeared in her hand.

“Hold it here, next to the bars,” he said. Then Cyrus concentrated, staring at the flower that he held gently.

She watched, mesmerized, as the flower melted into a pool of light in his hands. Then he poured the light from his hands onto the blade, and Pathos glowed from hilt to tip. “Now send it back to the callbox. With your powers, a weapon, and a little light, I think you can beat her, I really do.”

By the glow of the sword, she saw that hope had returned to his eyes. “Pathos!” she said, and the sword returned to the callbox. She heard Cyrus sigh softly, already missing the light. Then they sat back-to-back in their cells, whispering to each other about the best strategy to use when she fought Sanguina.

The sound of her cell door being wrenched open interrupted their whispers.

“Sanguina is asking for you,” a strange voice said, and someone grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the cell.

“Val!” Cyrus cried.

“I’m okay—I’ll see you soon, I swear!” she said, trying to sound brave.

In the dim light, she saw that it was a transparent Conjuror who was yanking her down the hall. He was much more difficult to see than Blake had been, so his power must still be new.

By the sound of the scuffling of feet all around her, she guessed that at least ten other transparent Conjurors were also guarding her to make sure she didn’t escape. She tried to calm her thumping heart and concentrate on her plan—call for her sword, channel her magic, fight Sanguina.

If Valerie could take her down, chaos would ensue, and with a little luck, she would be able to rescue Cyrus in the mayhem. But she had trouble collecting her scattered thoughts, and her terror of facing Sanguina again choked her magic, making it a trickle running through her body instead of the flood that she needed to win.

Suddenly, Henry pulled on her mind. She desperately tried to resist his call, but his terror was so great that she had no choice.

Venu stood out like a dark shadow against the verdant green grasslands of the African landscape. He loomed over Henry, who was curled in a ball on the ground, his entire body shaking. Venu lifted his boot and kicked the boy in the back. The sharp pain rippled through his body, and tears streamed down his face.

“Please, no more. I’ll do it, I’ll do it.”

Venu pulled back his leg, preparing to kick him again when Sanguina appeared.

“You miserable cretin, what are you doing? You have disobeyed me! I don’t have time to deal with your incompetence now!” Sanguina seethed at Venu. Valerie was shocked. Why was she helping Henry? She had to have some sinister reason for intervening.

For the first time, Valerie saw fear flickering in Venu’s eyes. “I’m sorry, mistress. But the boy refused to follow my orders! I had no choice—”

“I heard him agree to do what you asked,” Sanguina replied icily. “You’re wasting time. You should be at the Devil’s Pool by now! Go!”

Henry looked up from the ground through swollen eyes, and for the first time, Valerie saw where he was. The longest, most magnificent waterfall she had ever seen stretched out for miles. The water rushed over the edge so hard that the spray rose up like a cloud when it crashed into the pool below, creating a mist in the air even though they were still far away from the falls.

“Don’t give up, Henry! I’m sending help,” Valerie thought, hoping he could perceive her message. Then she let herself be pulled back to the Globe.

“What’s wrong with you?” the guard standing nearest to her said, shaking her roughly.

“Sorry,” she said, realizing that she was slumped on the ground.

“I’m not falling for your tricks,” the guard said, and without another word, Valerie was slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It was an awkward position, but she was able to reach into her pocket and clutch the charm she had made for Thai. She pictured his face, and instantly she stood next to him in a busy airport.

“Can’t stay—go to the biggest waterfall in Zambia. Ask anyone—it’s enormous; it can’t be hard to find.”

“Victoria Falls, of course!” Thai exclaimed.

“Venu’s taking Henry there—somewhere called the Devil’s Pool!”