Vespers Rising (The 39 Clues #11)(56)

“Are you okay?” the rescuer asked.

Dan nodded, even though he wasn’t sure. Would the guy think he was crazy if he kissed the ground? He decided to skip it.

He could see now that the hut was bigger than he’d thought, and was a small restaurant. Skiers sat inside, most of them sipping at hot drinks while they watched the rescue operations. Some of them were in their stocking feet. It was odd to come back to a world where people sat around, warm and comfortable in their socks, eating soup, while he’d almost been turned into Dan Jam, smashed into goo on a mountainside.

He walked on unsteady legs toward Amy, who was already sitting on a bench, a mug of soup in her hands. Next to her, skis had been planted in the snow and were sticking straight up like a small forest. Snow boots were piled on a mat. There was a jumble of goggles in a basket.

Dan took the offered cup from a rescue worker and tasted the best soup of his life. Everything looked so sharp and clear — the blue shadows on the snow, the crazy clouds, the creamy ceramic sheen of the cup.

“You can go inside and warm up, if you wish,” the rescue guy said. “Do you see the person talking to the couple over there? He is going to come over here and talk to you as well — he is a medic. You don’t appear to be in shock, but we must check. Then you may take the tram down the mountain. There are escorts waiting.”

“Thanks.” Dan sank down next to Amy. “That was close,” he said.

Amy turned to him. “We almost died, Dan. We really almost did this time.” She shook her head. “I thought all this … was over. Is it ever going to be over?”

Dan didn’t want to answer that question. Because they both knew the answer was no.

“We should call Fiske. But I don’t have a signal,” Amy said, snapping her phone closed. She scanned the area. “Casper Wyoming could be anywhere. Not to mention the other guy. We should get off the mountain. Didn’t that guy say a rescue worker would escort us down? That’s our best bet.”

Dan didn’t answer. He was studying the rescue worker who stood waiting patiently by the tram station. He was dressed in the same red jacket the other rescuers wore, his fleece cap pulled down to his eyebrows and a pair of goggles obscuring most of his face. Something about him was familiar, and not in a good way.

The worker patted his parka pocket for a minute. Like he was making sure something was there. Like a weapon.

He turned his back and spoke quickly to Amy. “Don’t look, but that rescue guy is our friend Casper. He’s waiting by the tram.”

Amy’s eyes widened. “What should we do? Should we tell someone?”

“Tell them what? That we’re protecting an ancient ring? Or that there’s this secret society called the Vespers?”

“I guess not. But we have to get down this mountain.” Amy glanced over at the skis. “And there’s only one way.”

Within minutes, they were schussing down the slope. The cloud cover was thicker, and the snow was falling more steadily now. Amy and Dan weren’t experts, but luckily the run wasn’t too steep … yet. They made good time down the mountain. Far below, they could see the lights of Zermatt beginning to twinkle on.

All they could hear was the schuss, schuss of their skis. Once in a while a skier would pass them, going down straight and fast.

Amy gave a quick glance behind. Her heart sank when she saw a skier in a red parka heading off from the hut. To her dismay, a skier clad in navy kept up the pace next to him. “Bad news — they’re both behind us,” she told Dan. “Bruno must have gotten away. And here’s the other bad news — they look like experienced skiers.”

“Apparently Casper is Outdoor Dude,” Dan said through gritted teeth.

“We have to go off the trail. They have the advantage if we go straight downhill. They’re much faster.”

“I’m right behind you,” Dan said.

Amy skied off the trail. The snow was icy and bumpy. She gripped her poles. It would be a disaster if one of them fell. She tried to forget the warnings she’d read about skiing off trails on this mountain — how treacherous crevasses could lie off the ski runs, ready to swallow up skiers. The wind bit at her cheeks, and she ducked her head slightly, trying to focus on the best pathway through the snow. At least the direction was easy — downhill.

They made better time now. The Vespers had longer skis, faster on the trail but not as maneuverable as their shorter skis. Their path snaked through large boulders, and crags and cliffs lay on either side.

Amy squinted through her borrowed goggles. She saw a problem ahead. There were two natural divisions on the route they were on. To the right was a small stand of trees. To the left, large boulders rose through the snow, and the terrain grew increasingly rocky, ending in what appeared to be a huge crag that would qualify as an Olympic ski jump.

She went right. She heard Dan struggling for breath next to her as they tracked back and forth, finding a path through the trees. It should have brought them ahead, but it didn’t. When they cleared the trees, she glanced behind. The two Vespers were right behind them. They would catch up in a few seconds.

She saw the inevitable end of this chase, and she pushed back against her panic.

Amy felt the ache in her legs and arms. Her muscles burned, and her chest hurt. She heard the sound she was dreading — Dan had started to wheeze. His breath was giving out.