Chapter 17 Adi
Adi
The room was roughly the size of his bedroom and decorated with old-fashioned maroon wallpaper, jewel-toned silky drapes tied back with golden tassels, and eclectic rugs underfoot.
They had entered through a wooden door that was now shut tight, its surface intricately carved into an image of an old man in long robes holding a walking stick and a lantern.
There was a large keyhole beneath the lantern.
Adi approached a table and rapped the top of a crystal ball, which felt like plastic. The moment he did, the fogginess cleared inside the ball, revealing a projection of a cliché fortune teller with enormous hoop earrings and a shawl around her shoulders.
“Greetings,” she said in a dramatic voice. “If your freedom should await, choose three cards to learn your fate. I am trapped deep inside, so let intuition be your guide . . .”
Let intuition be your guide. The same clue the Game Master had given.
But Adi was more annoyed than intrigued. “Romani stereotyping. Classic Hollywood.”
Carter snickered.
Adi glanced at her, lips twitching in an almost-smile. “There are spaces here for three cards,” he said, trailing his finger along rectangular outlines on the tablecloth.
“Tarot,” said Beck, gesturing at the door. “That carving looks like the Hermit from the classic Rider–Waite deck. A card that represents a period of solitude and being guided by our own internal wisdom.”
They looked at him.
He shrugged. “I went through a phase.”
“All right,” said Sierra. “Enough goofing off. Let’s find these cards.”
They began scouring the room, calling out their findings.
Above the door was a red clock—the room’s official timer. They’d been here only forty-two seconds, but it felt like it was ticking way too fast.
A lantern hung directly over the center table, unlit and identical to the lantern held by the Hermit on the door.
Twelve small paintings were spaced around the room, based on the Western astrology signs—the ram, the scorpion, the twins . . .
A trunk in one corner was locked with a four-letter code.
A sideboard had three tiny holes in its top, and beside each was a symbol carved into the wood: a rose, an apple, and a feather.
Beck and Carter hunted through the drawers in the sideboard. One was locked, but in the others they found a booklet about tarot cards and their meanings, a chart explaining various chakra colors, and a map of constellations.
Adi scoured the tarot book for clues while Carter compared the star chart to the astrology paintings.
“Wait,” she said, stopping in front of the Gemini illustration. “There are hidden letters in these paintings.”
Sure enough, once Adi was looking for them, the letters were obvious. An E made out of the crab’s claws. A T in the minotaur’s bow and arrow.
“Adi, can you unscramble them to spell something?” said Sierra.
“No need. They’re already in order, starting here.” He pointed to the F in one of Pisces’s fish scales. “It spells FIND THE TRUTH.”
“Helpful,” Beck muttered.
Adi inspected the lantern hanging above the table. There was a space for a candle, but the candle was missing.
Crouching, he lifted the edge of the tablecloth and spied a wooden box. “Found something.” He pulled it into the dim light. The box was divided into nine equal squares, each holding a short white candle. “Candles labeled with numbers. One through nine.”
“Put one on the lantern and see what happens,” suggested Sierra.
Adi put the first candle into the lantern. Immediately, the room went black. Carter squeaked. The crystal ball glowed again—green this time, and the same fortune teller appeared. But now she looked pissed.
“You claim to seek the truth, but you are only wasting my time!” she cried. “For your error, I will add one minute to the clock.”
“What? No!” Carter shouted as an ominous bell tolled and the red clock above the door clicked forward a full minute.
“The snag penalty,” said Beck with a groan.
The lights came back on.
“Shit,” said Sierra. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do that.”
“No, it was a good idea,” said Adi. “I thought we were supposed to be trying to free the fortune teller’s spirit. What’s all this about seeking the truth?”
“We have to find the truth of who trapped her?” Carter suggested.
Suddenly, Beck gasped. “Try number nine.” But then he hesitated. “I’m just guessing, though.”
“Why nine?” asked Sierra.
He gestured at the carved door. “The Hermit is the ninth card in the Major Arcana, and the lantern looks exactly like the one in the carving.”
“Confirmed,” said Adi, holding up the tarot booklet to the Hermit page.
“I say we try it,” said Carter, “or we’re going to waste another full minute spinning our metaphorical wheels.”
Adi smirked, amused at her need to specify “metaphorical.”
Sierra nodded. “Try it.”
Picking the ninth candle from the box, Adi set it into the lantern.
Again they were plunged into darkness, and Sierra cursed loud enough that Adi could imagine the editing team cursing her later.
But then the lantern started to glow, and a collection of tiny lights appeared on the ceiling, illuminating a series of constellations that had been invisible before.
“Yes!” said Carter. “Good work, Beck. MVP all the way.”
“Look,” said Sierra. “There are hooks on the walls. Let’s arrange the paintings to match up with their constellations.”
They scrambled about, grabbing the paintings and hanging them according to the star chart. Once the last painting was up, they stood back, expecting more flickering lights or some message from the fortune teller . . . but nothing happened.
“Did we get one wrong?” asked Beck, peeking over Carter’s shoulder to study the star chart.
“It spells something new now,” said Adi, pointing to each painting in turn. “TENTH. THIRD . . . F U.”
Carter giggled abruptly, then clapped her hand over mouth. “Wait, really?”
“Hold on,” said Sierra. “Tenth, third? As in . . . October third?”
“Maybe . . .” said Adi, sounding unconvinced.
“What are we supposed to do with that?” asked Beck.
“No, I don’t think it’s a date,” said Carter, approaching the locked trunk with the four-letter code. “Adi, what are the tenth and third letters of the alphabet?”
“J and C.”
She spun the dials. J. C. F. U.
The lid popped open.
“You’re kidding me,” said Adi. “The last two letters didn’t fit the pattern. That’s . . . I don’t know. Cheating.”
“Actually,” said Sierra, her voice with a newly sharpened edge, “it seems like someone is sending a message.”
Adi raised an eyebrow.
Sierra glanced at the clock. “Carter, what do we have?”
“A box with a six-digit numeral code,” said Carter, pulling their new props from the trunk, “a bunch of scarves, a ribbon with a code or something on it, and . . . incense sticks.”
Adi grabbed the ribbon from her hand to check the code.
Oaelnibtskati klciIcectiphc ailedthoileee yvuBihiufltfw teeydanliehii eSstftdderinl aeshiwAndwsal mapenanoBotlb srocdsatuniee lctoAlrbttmjm ohtfrereteeui othfefejhsAsn kheiltsuectte
“Okay . . .” He tried to pick out a pattern.
“Oh!” said Carter. “There were those holes in the sideboard! I bet the scents of the incense match up with the symbols.”
“Yes, good call,” said Sierra. “Who’s got a strong sense of smell?”
“On it,” said Beck, taking the incense sticks to the sideboard. “But you’ll have to stop talking because it messes with my olfactory senses.”
He started to sniff through the incense sticks.
Adi went back to studying the code on the ribbon, but he hadn’t made any progress before Beck shouted victoriously—something about “it’s a pine branch, not a feather!
”—then popped in the final stick. The locked drawer in the sideboard popped open, and the clock on the wall froze at twenty-three minutes, nine seconds. They were in the homestretch.
“Tarot cards!” Beck yelled, flaunting some fancy shuffling trick before spreading them on the table.
“There has to be a mistake. There’s no purple here!” Sierra and Carter were poring over the chakra scroll, the colorful scarves scattered around them. Sierra looked peevish.
“Maybe it’s not the scarves?” Carter suggested.
“It has to be the scarves!” Sierra bit back, making Carter recoil.
“What’s going on?” asked Adi.
Sierra huffed. “Right here, the chakra chart says that readings are most effective when the atmosphere matches a person’s aura.
Red is for passion, orange for creativity, etc.
And purple is for intuition. The fortune teller mentioned intuition, and so did Louis.
So we’ve got to be looking for purple, but there’s no purple scarf ! ”
“Maybe it’s not about the scarves at all,” said Carter. “Maybe there’s . . . I don’t know . . . something purple in one of the paintings, or—”
“No, it’s the scarves,” said Sierra. “Look! There are these hooks up here.” She pointed to hooks Adi hadn’t noticed, spaced evenly around the lantern that hung over the table. “And each scarf has a ring sewn into the corners, exactly the right size, but there’s no purple!”
“You have red and blue,” said Beck. “Am I the only one who remembers the color wheel? What do they teach you in real school?”
“Real school?” said Carter. “As opposed to what? Muppet school?”
“Wait, he’s right!” said Sierra. “I can’t believe I missed that. I’m a literal artist. What is wrong with me?”
“You’re hungry,” Beck said.
Sierra hung the blue and red scarves so the light from the lantern passed through the fabric and shaded the room in deep violet.
As soon as she finished, clouds swirled inside the crystal ball and it began to glow.
The fortune teller appeared again, but she looked less furious this time, more thoughtful.
Her eyes were cast down, as if staring at invisible cards on the table before her.
“Your first card speaks of upcoming change, a swift and brutal transformation. Your second card shows ruin and betrayal brought on not by an act of God but one’s own transgressions.
Your third card shows that past grievances will be addressed and order finally restored.
” The video flickered out for a second, then started up again from the top.
“Your first card speaks of upcoming change . . .”
“Adi, she’s telling us the three cards we need to find,” said Carter. “Check the book!”
“I’m working on it,” said Adi, flipping through the pages. “But there are like a hundred cards in here!”
“Seventy-eight, actually,” said Beck.
“Fine, we get it!” barked Adi. “You know this woo-woo stuff and the rest of us are useless.”
“Adi!” said Carter, aghast.
He sucked in a breath and rubbed a palm against his eyes. Sierra had warned them about this.
“I know. Okay. I’m pretty sure the last one is referring to Justice. Order restored, and all that. But the first two . . .” His shoulders slumped and he looked at Beck, borderline apologetic. “Any insights?”
“I’m thinking,” said Beck, listening to the fortune teller. “The first one could be the Tower. Or the Ten of Swords. Wait—which one was about an act of God?”
“Not an act of God,” Adi corrected. “Ruin and betrayal, but not an act of God. That’s the second one.”
“Most likely the Ten of Swords for that one,” said Beck. “Okay, try: Death, Ten of Swords, Justice.”
Adi picked out the three cards and set them into the spaces on the tablecloth. The Roman numerals at the top of each card lit up. XIII—X—XI.
“Whoa, cool,” said Beck. “How are they doing that?” He peered beneath the table. “There’s got to be a sensor . . .”
“Thirteen, ten, eleven!” cried Carter. “Six digits!”
Sierra already had the small box in her hands, her fingers dialing through the digits. 131011 . . .
The lid sprang open, revealing a giant skeleton key. Carter cheered as Sierra strode to the door, inserted the key into the keyhole, and turned it.
The door swung open. That bell dinged.
They had escaped.
Hold on.
They had escaped?
But.
They hadn’t used all the clues.
Adi looked down at the ribbon in his palm. The long string of letters in an unsolved code.
As Fitzy’s voice blasted across his earpiece, congratulating Team Helsing on their escape, Adi frowned and tucked the ribbon into his pocket.