“What was inevitable?” Charlene asked.

Wayne didn’t seem to hear her. “And so many others, all in the same place at the same time

—here, in this park. The belief supporting them, making them stronger. Making them real.”

Finn explained to Charlene and Philby, “This has something to do with the fire-breathing dragon and Mickey in Fantasmic.”

Wayne said, “That’s not the end of it. We have rides close unexpectedly. The laser cars go missing. Costumes disappear. The parade route is changed, with no one the wiser. Small, harmless stuff so far, but for how long? Did you see the news? A hundred padlocks were stolen from a hardware store. The security tapes revealed nothing, showed no one inside the store. Mark my word: those padlocks were stolen—one minute on the shelf, the next, missing. So, how’d that happen? How long until the rest of us can see them? How long until they can burn us the way they burned Finn tonight? What happens then? What happens when they realize there’s a whole big world outside these park walls? What if they want to expand their empire? What then?” He stopped. He was red-faced and breathing hard. Finn thought he looked a little sick.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Finn suggested.

“It wasn’t until the hurricane that we realized how far this had come.”

“The hurricane,” Finn repeated softly.

“A hurricane changed course while out at sea and then headed directly here to Orlando. I’ll accept that as coincidence, a fluke of nature.” Wayne, clearly growing agitated, collected himself.

“But do you know what happened to that storm after it passed over here? Check it out on the Internet. It lost power. Came in here at one strength and left considerably weaker. You think it just rained and blew itself out? We think not. We think that storm was harnessed. Used like a giant battery. Like a vampire sucking blood, the Overtakers used that storm to gain power. Since that storm, we’ve had a lot more unexplained inconveniences. They’re practicing. They’re getting ready for something bigger.”

“Are you listening to yourself? That can’t be,” Finn mumbled. “That’s crazy!”

Philby caught Finn’s look. He shook his head as if to say: It’s not crazy. Then he said aloud,

“Some ancient civilizations are thought to have used powerful storms to control their people.”

Wayne said, “That hurricane was downgraded after passing over here.” He sounded frightened.

“I’d really like to go home now,” Charlene said.

Finn thought about it for a moment and said softly, “So, let’s say we accept some of this.

What are we supposed to do?” He knew he sounded terrified, but he couldn’t help himself.

“You three, and the others, were carefully chosen for your individual talents. As DHIs you are part of their world; as kids, you’re part of ours. You are our eyes into the other side.”

“Spies,” Philby said.

“If you like,” Wayne said.

“I don’t like,” Philby answered.

Finn sputtered, “I don’t see what we’re supposed to do.”

“Sure you do, or you wouldn’t be afraid. And while you’re at it, think about this,” Wayne said.

“Why and how do you think we came up with the concept of the DHIs?”

Charlene said, “Us being hosts…You’re saying that wasn’t the real reason?”

Philby said, “They needed something that could exist in the character world but wasn’t a part of it.”

Wayne grinned at him. “Ah-ha!” he declared. “But the development costs. The time and energy it took to create you. We had to have a use for you to justify you to the rest of the company.”

He met eyes with Finn.

“Because no one would believe you if you told them a bunch of witches were going to take over the Magic Kingdom,” Finn said.

Wayne didn’t answer this directly. He said, “And so we dreamed up the idea of the holograms, the interactive hosts.”

Philby suggested, “You needed spies, someone to find out what the Overtakers were up to.”

“Find out if they even existed,” Wayne said, nodding.

“And now that you know they do,” Finn stated, rubbing the burn on his left arm, “now what?”

“We need to lure out their leader, whoever that turns out to be. What ever that turns out to be.

Deprogram it? Redraw it? Lock it up? Who knows?”

“You need us as bait?” Finn complained.

“Walt left us a solution,” Wayne reminded. “We need you to solve the riddle of the Stonecutter’s Quill.” The old guy looked exhausted.

Charlene said, “And if we don’t want to?”

Wayne’s mouth twisted, and his eyes looked stern and serious. “At some point you’re going to have to sleep,” he said. “And from now on, when you do, you’re going to cross over.” He hesitated, then stepped closer to her, his face gentle and kind. “I’m sorry, my dear girl, but there is no skipping this ride.”

9

When Finn awoke, he hurried into the bathroom, tore his shirt off over his head, and studied the pea-size red-and-brown scab with the dime-size scarlet circle of flesh that surrounded it. The burn hurt something fierce. This was no dream. He winced as he cleaned it with soap and water.

“Yaaa!” he hollered, his cry echoing in the tiled room.

“Finn, dear?” his mother called from the hallway. She knocked. “Are you all right?”

“Fine!”

“May I come in?”

“Ah…”

She let herself in. She was in her nightgown. Dawn had arrived an hour earlier, the pink of the eastern sky now silver with clouds.

“Finn, dear?”

She studied him in the mirror’s reflection, from behind, no doubt wondering why he was only half dressed, his shirt in a ballon the floor.

“What’s that? What happened? Honey?” She laid her warm hand on his shoulder.

Finn felt like telling her the truth, but he knew she wouldn’t believe him. So what to do?

They both were focused on the burn. He couldn’t very well say that he’d been in a laser battle with invisible pirates. She’d cart him off to the mental ward, or worse, their minister.

“A cigarette,” Finn said. He hated smoking more than anything on the planet. In her right mind, his mother knew this about him. Finn had once walked across a restaurant and boldly asked a smoker to put out his cigarette so that his own hamburger didn’t have to taste like an ashtray. This, at seven years old. But his mother wasn’t thinking right. To her, seeing was believing.

“You? What?” she gasped.

He felt awful, both for lying to her and for using smoking as his excuse. He’d crushed her.

“Mom…”

“Who? How’d you get it?”

“Mom…”

“And don’t you lie to me!”

He tried to think of how to explain this without lying, because not to lie was one promise he had made to his parents that he hated having to break. “I didn’t smoke it, Mom! A cigarette…

burned me.” He bent and picked up his shirt off the floor and held it up to show to her. The hole was obvious enough. “It was this guy—a bully, you know.”

She collected herself. “A bully? Who did this to you, Finn?”

“A pirate,” he heard himself mumble.

“What?”

“He’s…called ‘Pirate’ because he’s so mean.”

“He should be arrested.”

“No! It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? That’s a—criminal act—burning someone. Finn.” She spun him around to face her.

“Breathe.”

“What?”

“I want to smell your breath.”

“Mom!”

“Now, young man!”

He breathed toward her groping nose.

She blinked rapidly. “So after all we talked about, you sneaked out anyway?”

He’d forgotten about that part of his explanation. “I…ah…”

“Well!” she brightened. Her eyes went soft and her eyebrows danced, and he thought that this was the way she looked before she cried. “Oh, Finn. Thank you for not lying to me. It’s so important not to lie.” She added matter-of-factly, “Give me his name, please. His real name. Right now.”