Free The Secret Cipher by Whitaker Ringwald Page A

said.
    Tyler looked frantically around the room. “Does that mean the urn of Hope is in this room? I told you, Jax, I don’t want to see it!” My heart began to pound. I didn’t want to see it either.
    â€œIt can’t be that close,” Jax said. “I don’t feel anything.”
    â€œWell, I feel something!” Herman Hofstedder bellowed as he woke up. “I feel hungry. But I don’t want no cruddy meat loaf again. It gave me terrible gas.” He pounded his fists on his wheelchair. “If you don’t let me outta this room, I’m gonna—”
    â€œOkay, fine,” Jax grumbled. She opened the door, looked into the hall to make sure no one was watching, then wheeled Mr. Hofstedder outside.
    â€œBye,” I told him with a wave. “Have a nice day.”
    â€œSo far it’s been a real thrill ride,” he grumbled.
    As soon as the door closed, Jax, Tyler, and I gathered around our great-aunt’s bed. “Where is it?” Jax asked. “Where is the urn of Hope?”
    â€œI can’t remember. I can’t . . . oh yes.” Juniper pointed a shaky finger at the window. “I gave it to someone.”
    â€œGave it to someone?”
    Her hand fell back onto the bed and her eyes closed. “Don’t worry. We can trust her. She came from the Realm of the Gods.”
    â€œThat’s not possible,” I said. But even as I said it, I knew that phrase didn’t have as much weight as it used to.
    My nose started to tingle.

12
Jax
    G reat-Aunt Juniper’s brain was all mixed up.
    I’d felt like that before. Once, when I was little, I got so sick that I had a fever of 103. Mom said I started talking about unicorns—I thought one was standing in the middle of the living room! I remember how confused I’d felt, until my fever broke.
    It was hard to see Juniper like this. I remembered all the photos in her apartment, of her adventures trekking across the globe in search of artifacts and treasures. She’d been strong and independent. Now she was lying in a bed with metal bars. I felt bad because I’d thought she was faking the stroke.
    â€œDid you say the Realm of the Gods ?” I asked.
    â€œYes.” Her eyelids fluttered.
    â€œCyclopsville takes place in the Realm of the Gods,” Tyler said. Then he shrugged. “I’m just pointing that out.”
    Ethan stopped pinching his nose. “False alarm,” he explained.
    â€œI don’t understand,” I said to Juniper. I tried to keep my voice calm, so I wouldn’t upset her. “Are you telling us that the urn of Hope was here with you, in this room?”
    â€œYes.” Her voice was beginning to drift. “Don’t worry. I sealed it with wax. At least, I think I did.” She frowned, crease lines forming along her cheeks. “I told everyone that it contained my husband’s ashes. I don’t remember having a husband. Did I have a husband?”
    â€œSearch,” I said. We opened all the drawers. There were some clothes—a pair of khaki pants, a red bandana, some hiking boots, a leather bag that was empty. We looked under the bed, in the closet, but found no dreaded Greek urn. Tyler exhaled with relief but I didn’t. I grabbed Juniper’s hand to get her attention. “Great-Aunt Juniper? I know it’s hard to remember but please try. Are you sure you gave the urn of Hope to someone?”
    She nodded weakly.
    â€œThat means it’s not here,” Tyler said. “Fine by me!”
    Panic began to swirl in my stomach, like a cyclone. “But . . . why?”
    â€œShe said she’d take it home.” Juniper closed her eyes. “I’m getting so sleepy.”
    â€œPlease don’t fall asleep,” I begged, shaking her arm. “You gave it to a girl? What did she look like? Where’s home?”
    â€œWith the gods.”
    â€œThat’s not possible,”