The Syndrome (Kingdom Keepers, Book 7.5)
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When Amanda travels east to Orlando on a hunch, she’s met with the worst news possible. Kingdom Keeper, Finn Whitman, is missing. Calling on her own gift (she’s telekinetic), her sister Jess’s ability to dream the future, and their fellow Fairlie, Mattie Weaver’s, unexplained ability to read minds through physical contact, the three gifted girls must navigate treachery, deception and the stubborn, unwilling parents of the missing Keepers if they’re to save their friends.
What could a human like me do that a cat couldn’t—other than brush my teeth and comb my hair? I looked out over the tree house. Vines hung from the branches, and below me a canvas tent covered a pile of camping gear. I wasn’t one for stunts, but as I heard Shere Khan’s claws ripping into the wood deck, I decided taking a risk was the better option. Grabbing a branch, I pulled myself up to balance on the guardrail. I reached out and found a nice thick vine, one sturdy enough to support
path was narrow and mostly empty, and I was painfully aware of how much I stood out. Shots sounded from the Jungle Cruise; Cast Members were doing an early morning training run. As I drew closer, I saw I was not the only visitor to the apartment that morning. A man kneeled in front of the apartment door with a toolbox, working on the doorknob. He wasn’t dressed in the standard maintenance uniform, and I recognized the familiar Sorcerer Mickey emblem on his magenta hardhat. An Imagineer. He
hour. People of all nationalities, faiths, and levels of income. Yet, somehow, I knew that these two were here looking for me. I sincerely doubted they were Overtakers, but I didn’t fear Disney security guards a lot less. Using a tomb as a screen, I moved away from them, advancing forward in line. All the while, I was thinking that the graveyard represented the end of “time,” that cremation jars, carrying the ashes of the dead, might be “filled to overflowing.” Finn’s words haunted me in a place
couldn’t read how many. Alone, locked in my cell, I wolfed down the burger and fries. Then I went to work. Of the varied items in the spa supply closet, the most promising were a box of hair coloring chemicals, a half-dozen electric curling irons still in the box, some rolls of aluminum foil, and two dozen aprons carrying the spa’s logo and name: SPA-CIALTY YOU—HAIR CARE AND BODY WORKS. The terrible pun might have explained why it went out of business. Originally, I’d planned to climb out a
strollers seemed to be pulling the parents trailing them, and young children bounded and bounced, not wanting to leave. “How much longer?” Jess asked. “You think they’ll make it?” “I’m sure,” I said. “I have no doubts. If there’s anything we can trust, it’s that they’ll get here before we’re thrown out.” “If you say so,” Mattie said. “I do. Joe knows what he’s doing.” I paused, and then said, “Are you both afraid?” “Yes.” “Me, too,” I admitted. “Good! Hold on to that fear. We’re going to