The Wicked Passage (A Blake Wyatt Adventure) Read Free

eaten candy bar in your locker, Blakemore?”
    Blake struggled to hang on to the books that were slipping from his hands. Nobody knew his real name was Blakemore except his mom and his sister. He’d even made Erica swear on their dad’s grave never to tell their friends.
    Price shuffled past him to the door and closed it. “Somehow I thought you were going to be more noble --more valiant--or at least a bit more sophisticated. You’re nothing like your father.”
    Blake’s skin suddenly felt cold. This guy knew something about his dad? His father had been dead for years. He was a total mystery. His mother rarely talked about him except for a few rehashed stories around birthdays and holidays. And the only photograph of his dad that even existed was framed and propped up on his mother’s dresser--as though he actually might come home one day and be part of the family again.
    Blake studied the man’s rigid face. His wrinkles were harsh and thick, and his eyes were clouded, as though he needed more than glasses to see.
    “Did you know my father?” Blake asked. He felt dizzy.
    The man gently ran his hands over the wooden box again. “Well, Mr. Wyatt, let’s just say we were . . . business associates.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean? My dad wasn’t in any business.”
    “My apology. You are correct, in part. He was, by far, the best sapphire traveler who ever lived. I was very saddened to hear what happened to him. Oh, yes, yes, yes, very sad indeed.”
    Blake felt his face redden. Sweat from his hands moistened the vinyl stickers on his notebook’s cover.
    “Set your things down, young man.”
    Blake tossed his rarely opened history text onto the nearest desk and tried to shake off a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Who are you?”
    “That’s not important. We have pressing issues at hand. I need to tell you about your father.”
    “Look, dude, I don’t know who you are or why you’re in my history class, but there’s nothing I don’t already know about my dad.”
    “Are you sure?”
    Blake shivered. What did this guy know about his father? And why would his mother keep it a secret from him? “You know my mom, too?” he whispered.
    “Of course. The beautiful Madeleine Eleanor Wyatt,” the old man said, slightly singing her name. “You’ve inherited her blond curls.”
    “She never said anything about you.”
    “That’s because of quite a long story, which will be saved for a more opportune time. But for now we must hurry.” The old man pulled a silver, tarnished pocket watch from his jacket. “We’re losing precious minutes. I must say, I am just a bit surprised. I thought you’d be ready by now.”
    “For what?”
    “Maybe I should start over in case you missed my untimely introduction during your recent nap,” he continued at a faster pace. “My name’s Le--I mean, Hugo Price. I’m not a substitute teacher, at least not a teacher in the way that you think. I, too, am a traveler, and I have come a long way to speak to you.”
    Blake watched the old guy blow his nose and clear some major loogie from his throat.
    Maybe Price is nuts. Maybe I should make a run for it, report him to the principal’s office or call the cops or something.
    But this guy was vaguely familiar, as though Blake had met him somewhere. Where? Hugo Price smiled and opened the old box.
    “Whoa, what’s that?” Blake asked, looking down at the most killer book he’d ever seen. It was large and gold and radiated light like someone had flipped on a switch. The etching on the cover looked like the solar system chart in his science class, but each planet was a different, sparkling jewel. “That, young Wyatt, was your father’s legacy and soon will be yours, too.”
    “Huh?”
    “You’re about to receive a great gift, Mr. Wyatt.”
    “This was my dad’s?” Blake asked, reaching down to claim the awesome text. But Price grabbed his wrist.
    “Ah-ah-ah! This is the Chronicle of the Rellium, young