Whitney explained, "It's a lot like a Waldorf salad, but it has pomegranate seeds instead of raisins, and my mom likes to use pine nuts instead of walnuts."
"Yeah, that sounds great," he said.
On Thursday, Galadriel remained in the shadows, getting rides to and from school, acting a bit lost but hopeful.
It felt kind of weird, and Kendall joked about it at lunch. "You are sooo close to turning into a polygamist, you know!"
On Friday morning, Bron learned that he was in trouble. He went to school, saw Riley O'Hare standing outside the office in the morning. The old Draghoul, Blair, was talking to the secretary, Allison, checking him in. Allison looked worried.
She saw Bron, bustled out of her office to meet him. "There's a new boy registering in school. Do you know him? Is it all right with you?"
Bron shrugged. "Riley? He's all right. We're old friends." He wondered what Olivia might have told Allison.
She peered hard into his eyes, as if afraid that he might be hiding something. "Okay." She cast a worried glance and retreated to her desk.
Bron was walking with Whitney in tow, and would have preferred to have ignored Riley, but he stepped forward. "Hey, Bron Jones!"
He came to a halt, just stood. "Uhhh."
Riley introduced himself to Whitney. "Riley O'Hare," he said. "Bron and I are old friends. We lived together for awhile in a group home in Salt Lake!"
"Cool!" Whitney said, shaking one of his hands in both of hers. She leaned forward in a friendly manner, turned to Bron. "We should show him around the school."
"Yeah, good idea," Bron said. "That would be really great!"
Riley excused himself. "I can't, just yet. I'll see you at lunch, though."
Bron turned to go, but Riley called at his back. "Bron, I'll introduce you to a couple more of my friends. They'll be checking into school soon, too!"
Bron turned and strode away, clutching Whitney's hand entirely too hard. All three Draghouls were coming to his school? It sounded as if they were getting ready for World War III. A chill crept down his spine, and Bron realized that although it took a lot to scare him, when the fear did come, it could be profound.
At the end of the school day, Olivia came for him.
"We're going out of town," she announced, as she escorted him down an empty hall, three minutes before the bell would ring. "You'll have to cancel any plans that you have with Whitney tonight."
"Where are we going?" he asked. He worried that he had to go heal Melvina. Olivia had spoken vaguely about plans to do that. He'd already managed to find time to take care of Kendall's buddies at school.
She took him out a back entrance, where no one would see them, and they began climbing a little stairwell.
"We're going to meet the Weigher of Lost Souls," Olivia said. "It's her job to ... test you, decide if you'll be allowed to join us."
"Test me?" Bron asked. "How?"
He didn't feel ready for any kind of test. Somehow, he'd begun to imagine that Olivia would make him wait for months before letting him in on the whole truth.
"She will look into your mind," Olivia said. "And decide what you are."
"I'm an Ael," Bron said. "Like you."
Olivia shook her head sadly. "You're a masaak, but you're not much like me. Like any species, the masaaks are diverging, like branches on a tree, twigs that grow farther apart as the tree ages. There are different kinds of masaaks. I am an 'Ael,' one of the ancient gods. Others are 'Draghouls.' They've been breeding for ages, trying to become cold and cruel.
"We don't know your lineage. Until the Weigher of Lost Souls examines you, you can't be allowed to join us. You might never be allowed."
"Why not?"
She fell silent. They'd reached the top of the stairwell and now they raced downhill to the parking lot.
Bron wondered at the timing. Riley had come to the school. He was bringing backup. Had the Draghouls learned where they were? Is that why Olivia wanted to bug out?
"Don't you see," she said, "the answers to what you are, they aren't inside of me. They're inside of you."
He suddenly remembered something important. "I was supposed to go on a date with Whitney tomorrow."
"You can't," Olivia said.
He shook his head, annoyed. "Fine. I'll put it off."
"Next week," Olivia said, "we can invite her to the house for a picnic. You two can go out back to the pond, as long as you don't go skinny-dipping."
Bron grudgingly accepted. There wasn't a chance that he'd ever go skinny-dipping with anyone, not so long as he lived with Olivia Hernandez. He would never be able to keep secrets again.
"Does Mike know what we're doing?"
"I told him that we were going up to a water park in Provo. Mike didn't want to come. He's afraid of water."
"Afraid?" Bron grinned.
"I tried to get him into a boat once, and he got so scared he threw up."
They reached Bron's car, and he popped the doors with the keyless entry. He held his door open for a few long seconds, to let the hot air escape, and Olivia took the keys from him, then eased into the driver's seat. Bron got in on the passenger's side.
"Where are we going?" Bron asked when he'd settled in.
Olivia shook her head. "You'll find out when we get there."
Bron fell silent, and Olivia took the road into Saint George. When she reached the corner of Bluff Street and Saint George Boulevard, she took the steep road to the airport, which was atop a mesa that looked down over the city, with the big white Mormon temple at its heart. Moments later they reached the airport and on the tarmac Bron spotted a shiny black helicopter. A pilot in a black flight uniform stood at attention, regarding them from behind mirrored sunglasses.
"We're taking that?" Bron asked. "Why not a plane?"
"I don't think there are any airports where we're going," Olivia said.
When they reached the chopper, the pilot opened the door. "Climb in, folks," he said, "and make yourselves comfortable."
The interior was surprisingly plush, with leather seats and a quiet cab. A radio played light rock music. Bron put on his seatbelt, and sat, nervously excited.
The pilot opened a privacy window and called, "We'll be airborne in a moment, folks. Strap yourselves in. Feel free to grab a drink out of the cooler. We're a little more than an hour out from our destination. The skies are clear, and the trip should be pleasant."
"What kind of helicopter is this?" Bron asked.
Olivia shrugged. "A fast helicopter."
The pilot hit the ignition, and soon they were lofting east out over the edge of the city. They streamed past sun-baked mountains, rocky gorges and barren desert. The sky was a deep blue, like a flawless sapphire.
Sooner than expected, the chopper breezed above Glen Canyon Dam and they reached Lake Powell, one of the scenic wonders of North America, with its sparkling waters butting up against ancient petrified sandstone hills. With over two thousand miles of shore, there were hidden inlets everywhere that one could swim in and explore. Majestic arches rose up in places, providing fantastic scenery, and Anasazi pictographs adorned the rocks.
Bron had seen pictures of it, the surreal slot canyons where sunlight filtered down narrow cracks, glowing like gold over the sculpted stone.
The pilot flew past the marina at Page, Arizona. Houseboats dotted the lake, and long swells, blown by the wind, seemed to crawl toward shore.
Soon, there were no more roads along the lake. The chopper began dropping. Bron tapped Olivia's arm and asked, "Where are we going?"
Olivia pointed in answer—to a fantastic arch of red sandstone rising up almost from the water—Rainbow Bridge. A few boats were moored out front, tourists taking pictures.