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  But at that moment the board came loose.

  The Scorpion tumbled off the board, plummeting down and shattering on the hard stone tiles of the courtyard two stories below.

  A split second later, Dalton fell to the ground right beside it.

  Plans of Action

  A few minutes later, we watched the paramedics do their thing. They’d already strapped Dalton to a stretcher and given him a shot of something to stop the pain. Now they were loading him into the ambulance parked at the edge of the courtyard.

  “It looks like they’ve got him stabilized,” Frank commented.

  Janice was still standing near us. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

  “Yeah. He’s really lucky.” I watched the ambulance pull away.

  Frank and I had moved in immediately after the fall. First, of course, we’d checked on Dalton. He was only semiconscious. There was a bone sticking out of one leg while the other leg was twisted under him at an odd angle. But fortunately, he was alive.

  A woman dressed up as some kind of alien had pushed forward through the crowd, saying she was a nurse. We’d stepped back and let her take a look at Dalton. At least half a dozen people had already dialed 911, so that was covered.

  Next we’d gone over to check out the Slater Scorpion. Or what was left of it. Several fans were eagerly scooping up bits of the shattered glass. To keep as souvenirs, I guess.

  Once the ambulance was gone, the cops got to work. A couple of officers started cordoning off the scene while others began questioning bystanders.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I whispered to Frank. “There are plenty of witnesses to tell the cops what happened, and we have other things to do.”

  Janice had already headed over to grab her own piece of the Scorpion. Nobody was paying any attention to us as we headed inside.

  “Wow, this place cleared out,” I commented when I got a look at the main hall. When we’d been in there last, the room had been packed. Now there were only a few dozen people wandering around.

  “Yeah,” Frank agreed. “Some of the crowd’s still out in the courtyard, of course. Others are probably at that signing event. Who knows where the rest went.”

  “Maybe they’ve been called back to the mother ship.”

  Frank rolled his eyes. “Hey, did you get a load of that timer setup?” he asked as we stopped near a deserted book display.

  “Yeah. Hard to tell with it smashed to bits, but I’m guessing the alarm clock was wired to that spring. When the alarm went off, the spring released the plank and the glass scorpion went smasho.” I shook my head. “I still don’t get it, though. Who set it up?”

  “Janice seemed to think it was Dalton himself,” Frank said. “Maybe this really was some bizarre publicity stunt gone wrong.”

  I thought about that. “That theory makes a weird kind of sense,” I agreed. “These Deathstalker fans are all about the superhero thing, right? He could’ve been setting himself up to save the Scorpion.”

  “Only he messed up the timing and then lost his balance.” Frank nodded. “Seems possible. We already know he’s good with gadgets.”

  “There’s just one problem,” I said. “How’d he get his hands on that glass scorpion? The way Janice was talking, it sounds like it would’ve cost a bundle to buy it.”

  “And according to ATAC, Dalton doesn’t have a lot of money and lives in his parents’ basement.” Frank bit his lip. “Yeah, that part doesn’t really make sense. I wish we knew whether Dalton really got a private message from someone pretending to be Anya.”

  “Think the ATAC hackers could find out?”

  “Maybe, given some time. But we need answers sooner than that. We don’t even know if the whole Dalton disaster is connected with the mission we’re supposed to be working on.”

  He had a point. “So what do we do next?”

  Frank checked his watch. “The cast signing should’ve just ended, but they’re supposed to head straight back to the media room for some radio interviews or something.”

  “Okay,” I said. “So let’s use that time to talk to more Deathstalker fans. Maybe we can figure out whether Dalton’s the type to have set up the Scorpion thing himself.”

  “Works for me.” Frank headed toward the schedule board posted in the middle of the room. “Let’s see where we’re likely to find some.”

  Soon we were scanning the schedule of events. “Looks like the only Deathstalker event going on right now is a LARPing thing over in one of the ballrooms,” I said.

  “LARPing?” Frank looked confused.

  “Live-action role play,” I said. “That’s when people dress up and act out their roles as fantasy characters and stuff.”

  “Oh. You mean like historical re-enactments of the Battle of Gettysburg?” Frank asked.

  Yes, leave it to my brother to make a nerdy activity sound even nerdier. “Something like that, I guess. Come on, it’s supposed to be starting right now. Let’s go check it out.”

  When we entered the ballroom, it looked like the world’s weirdest bar mitzvah. A few dozen people were milling around, all of them in costume. I spotted three or four Dr. Braynes, half a dozen Asps, and a Susie Q or three. Most of the rest were miscellaneous aliens.

  Near the door, five different people dressed as Deathstalker were facing off. “I get to go first!” one girl insisted. “Dalton promised!”

  “Dalton’s not here, remember?” The second Deathstalker was actually a guy. At least I was pretty sure. It was hard to tell under the long brown wig and heavy makeup. “And Harold said I could go first!”

  A few yards away, a bunch of people in Asp or other alien masks were grabbing cardboard swords out of a box. “Check it out—grozzers!” I said, recognizing the distinctive double-bladed shape from the Deathstalker comics.

  “What’s a grozzer?” Frank asked.

  “Alien weapon,” I told him.

  There was no time for further explanation. A whine of feedback directed everyone’s attention to a nervous-looking kid holding a microphone. “Hello, fellow Deathstalker fans,” the kid squeaked out. “Welcome to our ninth annual FanCon gathering. I’m sorry to report that our usual game master, Dalton Friedrich, won’t be able to make it this year.”

  There were lots of nods and exchanged glances among the costumed LARPers. It looked as if almost everyone had heard about Dalton’s fall.

  “Anyway, I’ll be stepping in,” the kid continued. “I know Dalton would never want us to break tradition. So let the battle begin!”

  “Okay, maybe this is a waste of time,” Frank murmured as the kid started calling out instructions to the players. “Nobody’s going to want to talk to us during this.”

  I nodded. “Maybe you’re right. We should probably go see how Anya’s holding up. I wonder if she heard what happened to Dalton yet.”

  “Hope not.” Frank grimaced. “That could be all it takes to send her over the edge … so to speak.”

  We stopped talking as a loud cheer went up from the LARPers. The game was starting. One of the costumed Deathstalkers stood in the middle of the room. An alien took a swing at her with its grozzer, but she repelled the attack with a kick of her leather boot and then did an awkward somersault toward the next alien. That alien landed a blow on her shoulder with its grozzer before she grabbed the fake weapon and tossed it away.

  I was ready to move on. Yeah, I liked the Deathstalker comics and all. But who wanted to spend their time whacking each other with cardboard swords?

  “Come on,” I told Frank. “Let’s get out of here.”

  As I turned away, I saw a third alien jump at Deathstalker with its grozzer raised. It landed a blow on her arm.

  This time the costumed Deathstalker didn’t fight back. She staggered backward with a shriek.

  “Hey!” she cried, grabbing her arm. “I’m bleeding!”

  For a second I thought this was all part of the game. Then I remembered. In the comics, Deathstalker bleeds bluish green—like those scars on
her body. And the substance I could already see seeping out from beneath the girl’s hand was red.

  Blood red.

  The Razor’s Edge

  Seconds after the girl screamed, Joe started babbling. Something about green blood.

  I couldn’t hear him too well. Shouts and screams were coming from all over the room. Meanwhile the person in the alien costume who’d landed the blow ripped off her Asp mask.

  It was Janice!

  “No way!” she cried, staring at the other girl, her face white with shock. “I’m so sorry—I don’t know what happened….”

  I rushed over with Joe at my heels. While I checked the injured girl’s arm—luckily, it seemed to be only a flesh wound—Joe grabbed the sword out of Janice’s hand.

  “Check it out,” he said after a quick look. “Someone taped a bunch of razor blades along one edge!”

  “Whoa.” I looked at Janice. “What’s the deal?”

  “I don’t know.” She looked more shaken than ever. “I just grabbed one out of the box like everyone else!”

  “Really?” I must have sounded skeptical, because she frowned.

  “Yes, really,” she said. “What, do you think I’m a psycho?”

  Nearby, I heard the game master babbling into his cell phone for help. Joe was staring at Janice.

  “You have to admit this looks pretty strange,” he told her. “Where’d those fake swords come from, anyway?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess Dalton brought them.”

  Someone had dropped one of the cardboard swords on the floor nearby. I picked it up and took a look.

  “No razor blades on this one,” I said.

  Joe grabbed a sword out of the hand of the nearest costumed alien. “Hey!” the guy behind the mask complained.

  “None on this one either,” Joe reported, ignoring the alien. “Looks like you might have the only grozzer in the place that can actually draw blood.”

  Janice crossed her arms over her chest. “So what are you saying? You think I sliced that girl on purpose? Because if you think that, you’re crazy.”

  Joe and I traded a look. Was there anyone who wasn’t crazy in this place? I had to wonder.

  Before we could continue, several security guards burst in. After finding out what had happened, a couple of guards took the injured girl to get first aid and others dragged Janice and the game master off for further questioning.

  “That was freaky,” Joe said once they were gone. “Think she did it?”

  I shrugged, glancing around the room. Most of the LARPers were standing around in small groups, talking about what had just happened. A few were swinging at each other again with their fake swords.

  “She does seem to be around a lot when strange things are happening,” I said. “And we know she feels strongly about Deathstalker.”

  “But not about Anya.” Joe shrugged. “She’s all about the tall/short Asp debate.”

  “Whatever. Can’t hurt to get some more info on her, right?” I pulled out my phone to text HQ.

  SUSPECT PROFILE

  Name: Janice Lang

  Hometown: Merrick, New York

  Physical description: Age 17, 5′6″, 140 165., brown hair, gray eyes

  Occupation: High school student and Deathstalker superfan

  Background: Straight-A student from a stable family. In addition to her strong interest in Deathstalker, Janice’s hobbies include Web design and playing the clarinet.

  Suspicious behavior: Has been present or nearby during most of the convention incidents. Wielded fake sword that injured someone. Is upset with the casting of Zolo Watson as Asp.

  Suspected of: Harassing Anya at FanCon.

  Possible Motive: Unknown; possibly trying to sabotage entire production?

  We spent the next few minutes questioning the other LARPers. It soon became obvious that most of them knew one another. And almost everyone knew Janice. Apparently she was a serious super-fan. They all knew Dalton, too.

  “Yeah,” a guy in a Dr. Brayne costume said when I asked him about Stalking Deathstalker. “Everyone reads it. It’s the best DS blog out there. That’s why everyone’s so upset that Dalton got hurt.” He hesitated. “Well, almost everyone.”

  Almost everyone? I was about to ask what he meant by that. But just then I heard a sudden shriek.

  I spun around. A guy in an alien mask was holding up his hand. Blood was dripping from a shallow gash in his palm.

  Joe was nearby talking to a cute girl dressed as Susie Q. He leaped toward the bleeding guy.

  “What happened?” he asked. “Did you grab Janice’s sword?”

  “No, I just got this one out of the box!” the guy exclaimed, clutching his injured hand.

  I hurried over and grabbed the sword the guy had just dropped. “More razors!” I reported grimly.

  “So it wasn’t just Janice’s,” Joe said. “Let’s check out the rest.”

  We investigated and found two more swords with razor blades taped to them. The others were okay.

  “Scary,” Joe said, staring at one of the razor swords. “Anyone could’ve sliced and diced someone without realizing it.”

  “Good thing nobody got hit in the face with one of those,” I said. “But what does this mean?”

  He thought hard, then shrugged. “It probably means Janice is innocent.”

  “Then who did this? And why? Who’s the target?”

  “Got me,” Joe said. “I don’t see how it could have anything to do with Anya, though.”

  Before I could respond, my phone buzzed. It was Jaan.

  “Is Anya with you two?” he asked.

  “No,” I replied. “Isn’t she with you? I thought you guys were doing that radio interview.”

  “Anya left once she finished her part,” Jaan said. “I thought she returned to the hospitality suite. But she’s not here, and she’s not answering her phone. It seems she has disappeared!”

  Malled

  “We’re on our way,” Frank said into his phone.

  “On our way where?” I followed as he headed for the door.

  “Anya’s missing,” Frank said tersely. “Jaan doesn’t know where she is and can’t reach her by phone.”

  “Whoa!” I groaned. “You mean we lost the person we’re supposed to be protecting?”

  Frank didn’t answer. He just sped ahead. Seconds later we burst into the hospitality suite.

  Jaan was waiting for us. We dragged him off to a private corner near the door. Urgent or not, we couldn’t risk being overheard. There were lots of other people in the room: Vance was picking at the food table; Michael B. Spoon was chatting with the other adult actors and a couple of PAs; Buzz was playing a video game.

  “What happened?” Frank asked.

  Jaan looked vaguely worried. “I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Harmony isn’t here either— perhaps they’re visiting the ladies’ room. You know how girls are about that sort of thing, eh?”

  Under the circumstances, I wasn’t ready to be quite so optimistic, especially since Vivian wasn’t there either. It seemed a lot more likely that Harmony had gone somewhere with her.

  “So nobody’s seen her since she left that interview?” I asked Jaan.

  “Seen who?”

  I spun around. “Dude!” I exclaimed when I found Zolo’s freaky green eyes gazing at us. From, like, two feet away. How did he do that?

  Frank cleared his throat nervously. “Um, we were just trying to figure out where Anya went.”

  “Didn’t she tell you?” Zolo smirked. “I thought you were supposed to be the boyfriend.”

  Was he onto us? I still couldn’t tell.

  “Do you know where she is, my boy?” Jaan asked Zolo.

  “Sure.” Zolo slouched against the wall nearby. “She and Harmony went to the mall.”

  “They what?” Frank said.

  Zolo shrugged. “Said they wanted to get away from the craziness for a while. They were going to sneak off to the mall, do some shopping.
You know—girl stuff.”

  “Oh, dear,” Jaan said. “I’m not sure that was such a grand idea.”

  I saw his point. Anya seemed awfully fragile right now. And Harmony was pretty famous because of her old show. If they got mobbed by fans, things could get ugly.

  “We’ll find them,” Frank said, already heading for the door. “Come on, Joe.”

  “What’s the matter?” Buzz asked, stepping forward. “Are Anya and Harmony okay?”

  “I’m sure they’re fine,” Jaan assured him. “They’re just having some girlish fun over at the mall, and we don’t want them overrun by eager fans. Not to worry, though. These boys are off to track them down and bring them safely home.”

  Buzz nodded. “Yeah, Anya’s already pretty weirded out by all the attention she’s been getting today. The last thing she needs is a bunch of Young Hearts fans squealing and knocking her over to get to Harm,” he said. “Want me to come along and help find them?”

  “Um, that’s okay,” I said quickly. “I mean, you probably have another event coming up or whatever. Wouldn’t want you to miss it.”

  “Nope, there’s nothing on my schedule for the next hour.”

  “Okay,” Frank said. “But we’re sort of trying to stay under the radar. What if you get recognized?”

  Buzz chuckled. “Probably not a problem. I’m pretty well known in Broadway circles. But nobody in New Jersey goes to the theater. I’m all yours!”

  I shot Frank a look. What now? There was no easy way to turn down his offer to help. Not without blowing our cover. Besides, time was ticking. The more time Anya and Harmony spent over at the mall, the more likely they’d be recognized.

  Besides, what was the big deal? This just meant Frank and I couldn’t discuss the case while we looked for Anya. It wasn’t as if we were making much progress anyway.

  “Sure,” I said. “The more the merrier.”

  “How are we ever going to find them here?” Frank asked.

  The three of us were wandering down the mall aisle. It was crowded with weekend shoppers: kids traveling in packs, parents pushing strollers, old people ambling along at the speed of a stalled turtle.