The Paladin Prophecy Read Free

start, the rest of the team scrambled after him as Will turned the corner.
    Behind them, the “wad of gum” in the street flipped over and sprouted twelve spidery legs supporting a needle-shaped head and liver-colored trunk. It skittered to the curb, sprang into the air, and attached to the Prowler’s left rear fender with an elastic thwap , just as the engine rumbled to life.
    As the hot rod drove off, the tracker bug crawled up and around the fender, then snickered forward along the Prowler’s side, heading toward the driver. Before he reached the corner, the driver extended his left arm to signal a turn. The bug sprouted an inch-long spike from its snout and launched into the air toward the back of the driver’s neck, ready to deliver its invisible payload.
    The driver swung the Prowler around in a controlled skid, and what looked like a small derringer appeared in his left hand. He tracked the airborne bug into his sights and pulled the trigger, and a silent beam of white light pulsed from the barrel. The tracker bug—and the invisible Ride Along it carried—puckered, fried, and dropped to the ground, a burnt black cinder on the road.
    The derringer disappeared back up the driver’s sleeve as he completed his turn—a full, smooth 360-degree spin—and kept going.

DR. ROBBINS
    Anxiety gnawed at Will like termites as he ran. He never let up, glancing over his shoulder only once. No black car, no Prowler, no more texts from Dad. And no other runners: Will arrived at school alone. He hit his stopwatch and was shocked to see that he’d covered the 1.2 miles from the diner to school in 3:47.
    His best times shattered, twice, in less than an hour, and he’d hardly broken a sweat. He’d always known he was fast. He’d found out he could run like a deer at ten, when a dog chased him and he discovered he had another gear. But when he told his parents about it, they’d been dead-set against letting anyone see him run. They wouldn’t even let him try out for cross-country until this year, and only after he promised to hold back in practice and meets. Will still didn’t know how fast he really was, but based on this morning, he could have crushed every record in sight.
    Will was already halfway dressed for class when the Rangers staggered into the locker room almost two minutes later. Gasping, a few threw strange looks his way.
    “What the hell, West,” whispered Schaeffer.
    “Sorry,” mumbled Will. “Don’t know what got into me.”
    Will hurried out before anyone could ask more questions. If nobody else on the team had kept time, maybe by this afternoon they’d forget how fast he’d run. He would hang back in practice, in line with his mediocre standards, and they wouldn’t give the torching he’d just laid down another thought.
    But he still couldn’t explain it to himself.
    Will hustled through the halls and slipped into his seat a minute before the start of history class. He checked his messages one last time. Nothing. Dad had either gone into a breakfast meeting or headed out for his morning run.
    Will switched the ringer to vibrate as the bell sounded. Classmates trudged in looking cranky and sleep deprived, fumbling with their phones as they digitally wrangled their frantic social lives. No one paid any attention to him. They never did. Will made sure of that. The perpetual “new kid,” Will had long ago learned how to cork his emotions deep inside, showing nothing but a bland mask to his peers.

#46: IF STRANGERS KNOW WHAT YOU’RE FEELING, YOU GIVE THEM THE ADVANTAGE.
    Will was the tall rangy kid who always sat near the back, slumping to minimize his height, never making waves. The way he dressed, the way he spoke, the way he moved through life: quiet, contained, invisible. Exactly the way his parents had taught him.

#3: DON’T DRAW ATTENTION TO YOURSELF.
    But a pounding bass line of worry still pulsed in his chest: RUN, WILL. DON’T STOP. Could the timing of Dad’s texts—at the moment the