Free The Light, the Dark and the Ugly by Bryan Cohen Page A

last option. And you'll need to go back to Treasure to pull it off."
    Jennifer knew from the temperature drop in the room that she wasn't the only one petrified by the idea. A nationwide manhunt was underway for all of them, and Treasure was the first place they'd look.
    Erica continued. "One of the books from Page's has the power to open portals, but it could be deadly." She gestured to Redican. "Albert here is the only non-living soul who's ever used one. So he's our best bet."
    Travis gave a concerned look and leaned forward. "What'll it do to him?"
    Jennifer furrowed her brow until she realized that Travis was one of the few people in the room who hadn't had their minds messed with by the former substitute teacher.
    Redican smirked. "Mr. Conner, I'm so touched. I suppose I'll give you five points of extra credit."
    Nobody laughed, and Erica redirected the attention back toward herself. "On its own, the power could cook him from the inside. But it might be safe if we can get the gatekeeper's staff. It should dispel the power before he gets fried."
    Dhiraj put his hand on Jennifer's. "It all sounds very theoretical. Besides, how do you plan on getting past–"
    Jennifer stood up before she even realized it. "We'll do it. No matter what it takes." Her eyes welled up. "I'm not losing you again, Erica." She looked toward Dhiraj. "We're gonna play the part. And we're gonna win."
     
    Sneaking into Treasure in the middle of the night was no picnic. It probably would've been easier with one than it was with four, especially since her father wasn't exactly moving at top speed. The moment they set foot within the city limits, the smell of her hometown brought up ideas of what might have been. If things were still normal, then her suspension would be up and she'd be the captain of the field hockey team. Dhiraj would be applying to Harvard and Travis would still be sacking quarterbacks. But the fresh scent of Treasure no longer meant safety and comfort. It wasn't about school, and friends, and family anymore. There was nothing left but danger.
    Dhiraj looked like he was in the zone, so Jennifer hopped off her chair and walked over to Travis. She'd never seen anyone punch something so many times. His grunts had gotten deeper with the last 10 blows.
    Jennifer kept her distance. "Don't you think that thing has had enough?"
    Travis had a startled look in his eyes when she spoke. His face relaxed. "Sorry." His breathlessness caught up with him, and he steadied himself with a hand on the bag. "Was I bothering you?"
    Jennifer shook her head. "No. It's fine." She glanced at his raw hands. "I just didn't want your arms to fall off."
    He smiled and flexed both hands. Jennifer didn't know what she and Dhiraj were thinking when they'd had an anti-Travis intervention for Natalie in the A/V room. Sure, he had a bit of a temper and he'd been in a cult, but she was noticing more and more positives about him with every passing day.
    "Just blowing off a little steam." He tapped the bag. "Kelly wouldn't let me punch the livestock."
    Jennifer laughed. She could tell that Travis wanted to do the same, but something inside held him back.
    Jennifer wrapped her arms around the bag. "You don't have to blame yourself for any of this, you know."
    Travis looked down and unwrapped the tape from his knuckles. "I could've stopped her."
    Jennifer tightened her grip. "And have her hate you for holding her back? That wouldn't have been much better."
    Travis' typically boisterous voice was down to a whisper. "At least I'd know she was alive."
    Jennifer put her hand under his chin and lifted up his face. "Are you honestly going to tell me that you think anything on the other side of that portal could kill Natalie Dormer?"
    Travis let himself laugh as he met Jennifer's eyes. "No. Good point."
    A buzzing noise cut through the room, and both of them jumped. On the other side of the lair, Dhiraj hopped up and viewed the monitor on the big screen. A man wearing a trench coat