The Trap (The Magnificent 12 #2)(34)

“Tourists,” Dietmar said. “Come to see the Externsteine. We will not be alone.”

Mack watched the bus barrel away, then slow to turn in. He stared after it. No. No way. No way Nine Iron could have gotten on a plane and made it here this quickly.

“Did anyone else see a green hat go flashing by on that bus?” asked Mack.

“Xiao. You might want to go airborne and see what’s ahead,” Mack said. Then he stopped himself. “Not that I’m trying to tell you what to do.”

Xiao gave the matter some consideration. “Since you are the first of the Magnificent Twelve, you are the elder. Like an elder brother. We should do as you say.”

“Only as long as he doesn’t get bossy,” Jarrah said.

“Only if he is right,” Dietmar said.

For his part, Mack felt maybe they should have an election to decide who was in charge. But there wasn’t exactly time for that. In any case, Xiao had already transformed.

Dietmar hadn’t seen this happen before. “This is not possible.”

Mack and Jarrah shared a grin.

Dietmar shook his head. “No, this is definitely not possible. Laws of physics are being violated.”

Xiao refused to be stopped by mere laws of physics and writhed up into the sky. She was back a minute later.

“I saw the rocks, the Externsteine. They are magnificent in a sort of crude way. I also saw the bus and people getting off. They looked like regular tourists. But there was a very old man in green.”

“How did he get here so fast? He would have had to go straight from the Forbidden City to the airport.”

“Private plane?” Jarrah suggested.

“I don’t know,” Mack admitted. “I’m just saying that for a very slow guy, he gets around pretty fast.”

“Let’s go,” Stefan said grimly. “I owe Paddy Wacky.”

Mack fretted. “I wish I knew what we’re supposed to do when we get to these stupid rocks. I mean, this is not about fighting Nine Iron.”

“What are your instructions?” Dietmar asked reasonably.

Mack threw his hands up. “We don’t have real clear instructions. Grimluk sent me to Beijing, where we met Xiao. After that, all we had was something about the Egge Rocks and an ice show.”

“Eyes show?” Dietmar said.

Mack looked at him thoughtfully. “You know what? Maybe it was eyes. That would make more sense than ice.”

“We’re magnificent, not necessarily brilliant,” Jarrah said.

“Then it is good you have me because I am brilliant,” Dietmar said. He did not say it as a joke. “My family name is Augestein. Most people think it is from Augustus, the Roman emperor.”

“Yeah, I was going to guess that,” Jarrah said dryly.

“But in fact Auge is the word for eye.”

“And Stein is the word for beer glass,” Stefan said.

“Actually it is the word for stone.”

“Then why does my uncle Fritz always say, ‘Draw me a stein of Yuengling from the keg in the basement’?”

“The ‘ice show’ is actually the ‘eyes show.’” Mack looked at Dietmar more carefully. He hadn’t taken to Dietmar at first. Neither had Jarrah, obviously. The casual mention of an ancient castle and the talk about being descended from Grimluk himself had seemed like showing off. Mack didn’t like people who thought they were better than other people. Jarrah liked them even less. Only Xiao seemed indifferent—maybe she thought all nondragons were more or less the same.

“Augestein. The eyes. The ‘eyes show,’” Mack repeated. “Grimluk was sending us to meet you. So that the eyes—the Auge, you—could show us the Egge Rocks. The Externsteine.”

“That makes sense,” Dietmar said.

“Seriously? That makes sense to you? He couldn’t have just said, ‘Go find this kid named Dietmar; he’ll take you to the Externsteine’?”

Dietmar shrugged. “The important thing is that you found me. And now I will take you to the Egge Rocks, the Externsteine.”

Dietmar was seriously irritating Mack with his attitude. Also his long blond hair, which girls would probably really like. But Dietmar was one of them, like him or not. And Mack realized he might not like a lot of the Twelve. But liking wasn’t important. All that mattered was staying alive and not letting the Pale Queen win.

“Well, Dietmar Augestein, what are we supposed to do? What are we supposed to discover now that we’re at the Externsteine?”

Dietmar looked nonplussed. “I don’t know.”

“I know exactly what to do,” Stefan said. “Kick that old man’s butt.”

He plunged straight into the narrow band of woods that separated them from the Externsteine.

“But we don’t have a plan,” Dietmar protested.

“We never do, really,” Jarrah said. “Come on, your lordship, I believe we’re going to have a good old fight.”

They emerged from the woods into a lovely, parklike setting. A well-tended lawn bordered a small lake shaped like a mirror image of the state of Vermont.

The Externsteine itself was a series of tall rock pillars. Maybe a couple hundred feet tall. They were light in color, devoid of trees or grass—just giant rock fingers thrust into the air.