Will Wilder #3

by Raymond Arroyo

  “He’s acting like a real jerk,” Simon said, swallowing the allergy pill he always took after eating chocolate.

  “I know. But he’s also our friend. Come with me to the practice.”

  Simon called Miss Ravinia, the waitress, over and paid the bill.

  “Okay, I’ll come, but if he says one more jerky thing, you’re on your own,” Simon huffed.

  Cami smiled and thanked him. As they got up, Miss Ravinia, the portly woman with the pile of fire-engine-red hair and a lace doily atop her head, called out to them. “Would you all be sweeties and make sure you close that door right quick when you leave? One of the customers left that door open earlier and we had a dog and three cats makin’ an awful ruckus in here.” She turned back toward the cutout that led to the kitchen. “Took us all morning till we got ’em under control, right, Bub? Anyway, thank you, kids. Have fun out there, okay?”

  Cami and Simon looked at each other for a brief second, smiled awkwardly, and bolted from the shop, closing the door firmly behind them.

  * * *

  On the other side of Main Street, inside the chambers of the Perilous Falls City Council, Mayor Ava Lynch was bringing the daily council meeting to a close.

  Her helmet of black hair, reminiscent of a very large skunk, given the white streak running up the middle, bobbed slightly as she spoke. “Before we close out, just two quick matters of business. As some of you know, there have been a rash of graveyard robberies of late, which I find very disturbing. After consulting with our police department, we’ve made some most interesting discoveries.” She patted a bony hand on a red folder before her.

  Dan Wilder, at the end of the dais, ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair and stared down the table at the mayor. Her tone dripped with malice, as if she was about to deliver a lethal blow. Then it came.

  “These photos show two men wandering around the cemetery.” She waved several photos in each hand and passed them down the dais to the council members on her right and left. “It’s just awful that people think they can disturb the dead and escape punishment. We have to make sure these two pay a hefty price.”

  The council members studied the photographs handed down the row. Dan Wilder licked his lips uncomfortably when he realized that a very fuzzy Tobias Shen and Ugo Pagani were meandering among the headstones in the cemetery photos.

  “Dan, sugar,” the mayor sang out in her happy voice. “Do those men look at all familiar to you?”

  Dan removed his glasses and shook his head. “No…they’re…they’re…out of focus. Tobi—the guys could be…the…the people in the shots are hard to make out. Do…do…you know them?”

  “That is peculiar.” The mayor leaned back in the leather high-backed chair, her heavily made-up eyes peering at Dan. “These two men were seen making their way to the museum—your granddaddy’s museum, Dan. They could be just visitors…or perhaps they’re employees of some kind.” She dropped her voice into a low register, purring, “I wonder if your dear aunt Lucille might be able to identify these scoundrels?”

  Perspiration dotted Dan’s hairline. “Unlikely,” he muttered, looking down.

  “Weeeeeell, in any event”—the mayor theatrically threw open her hands and returned to full bellow—“if any of you know these men, or can offer any leads, I’m sure the sheriff’s office would appreciate it. Oooh, one final bit of business…” She held a hand out to Heinrich Crinshaw, the chairman of the city council. He handed her an official-looking document, which she fluttered in one hand. “This is a project that I am more than sure you will all join me in supporting. Bowled over by the reaction of our citizens—particularly the ladies—to the arrival of Cassian Modo, Heinrich and I had a notion.” She kicked Crinshaw under the table, inspiring him to nod enthusiastically.

  “So many seem captivated by Cassian’s music, we thought, wouldn’t it be clever if we used that music to draw patrons to Main Street? He’s like the Pied Piper of Perilous Falls,” she said, laughing. Only Dan did not return the laugh.

  “Earlier today, we secured agreements from almost every shop and store on Main Street to install speakers outside their places of business. And Mr. Modo has agreed, at no cost to the city, to allow us to exclusively play his music throughout the day and early evening up and down Main Street. By our calculations, this could draw forty to fifty percent more young shoppers to the businesses on Main Street—shoppers that spend big dollars. We only need to approve the cost to install the speakers, a mere twenty thousand dollars.” Once again, the mayor kicked Heinrich Crinshaw’s ankle beneath the table.

  “Uh, let’s call the vote,” Crinshaw said, stroking his pencil-thin mustache, gavel in hand. After a quick show of hands and a sputtering objection from Dan Wilder, the city council voted five to one to approve the speaker installation.

  “How wonderful,” Mayor Lynch said, sliding the document into the folder before her. “Perilous Falls is so pleased to have DJ Cassian as our official musician. Close the meeting out,” she whispered to Crinshaw under her breath. He did as commanded, and the council members began to disperse.

  Mayor Lynch walked toward Dan Wilder’s chair at the far end of the dais. He rose as she approached. “Ava, can’t the businesses on Main Street install their own speakers and decide what music their customers want to hear? Why are we giving special treatment to this DJ? Do we know anything about this Cassian? The people at his concert were acting…very strange.”

  “All I know is the young people and many others seem captivated by him. Your wife even did a flattering piece about Cassian the other night on TV. We have plenty of money in the discretionary fund for the speakers. That’s good enough for me.”

  “Well, it might not be good for the city. Why not play other music on these public speakers?”

  “Oh, Dan”—she struck his arm lightly with the folder—“we have to give the people what they want, not what we want, honey.”

  “Now you’re a music expert. You should go run a radio station or buy a record company, Ava.”

  “That is a right fine idea, Dan.” She began to step off the dais and then turned back to him. “I didn’t want to mention it in front of the whole council, but I have authorized an independent investigation of the destruction of our jailhouse and the Karnak Center. Terrible the way they both burned.”

  “Half the city nearly burned. There was fiery hail falling from the—”

  “Oh, I know. I was there. But idn’t it odd that your aunt Lucille was in the jailhouse as it burned to the ground, yet she escaped. Then she’s over at the Karnak Center, and it burned to the ground. That’s my property, Dan. You’ll remember that I allowed Pothinus Sab to build that eyesore on my land.” The mayor raised one carefully drawn eyebrow, awaiting an answer.

  “I hope you’re not trying to pin those fires on Lucille.” He leaned in to the mayor’s face, his voice shaky. “She told me you and Sab tried to kill her in the jail that night. You forgot that detail, Ava.”

  The mayor’s mouth flattened along with her eyes. “She’s out of her mind and Pothinus Sab is dead and gone.”

  “My aunt said there was a deputy on guard that night. I wonder if he saw anything?”

  The mayor shook her head sadly, filled with sympathy. “Oh, that poor, poor man. Deputy Stevens, I think his name was. He went across the river on some investigation and just disappeared. They haven’t found hide nor hair of him since a few days after the fire. Ask your friend Sheriff Stout. He’ll tell you.”

  Dan, lost in his imaginings of the deputy’s fate, couldn’t think of a response.

  “Tell Lucille to keep herself available,” the mayor said with a threatening edge. “Where is dear, old Lucille anyway?”

  “It’s like another world up here. This I didn’t expect,” Lucille said, gazing at the evenly spaced palm trees and lush manicured lawns blurring past the car window. It was a jarring scene
given what they had just witnessed on the way up the mountain. Brother Philip, the community gadget master and former spy, drove Lucille about an hour outside of Perilous Falls to the exclusive town of Dis. Once they started up the twisting mountain, a barren landscape of rock and bramble surrounded them, until they reached Dis.

  “Why are you surprised? The Modo family owns casinos and resorts in four states. Pretty lawns are their specialty,” Brother Philip said out of the side of his mouth. “It’s what they do on the other side of the landscaping that bothers me,” he said conspiratorially.

  They pulled through an open gate with the word MODO emblazoned in gold on the archway overhead. An immense white structure with marbled columns, hundreds of windows, and glittering golden balconies rose up before them. Lagoons with dancing fountains and sculpted topiaries fanned out around the mansion. A team of uniformed gardeners tended to the flower beds while young women sunned themselves in the lagoons on either side of the main entrance.

  “I hope I don’t offend, and I’m not complaining, but does anything strike you as odd?” Brother Philip turned a squinty eye on Lucille and then looked out the window.

  “No men,” Lucille said, yanking at the silk collar of her jacket. “Ever since we pulled onto the Modo property: the guards, the groundskeepers, the sunbathers—all women. Every one of them.” She faced Brother Philip. “Cassian has some unusual power over women.”

  “Do you want me to come in with you?” Philip said as they pulled to the front of the residence. “He won’t have any unusual power over me, I can promise you that.”

  “No, no, I’ll be fine. The prophecy said something about the demon Asmodeus: ‘It will bewitch innocent maidens and devour those they love.’ ”

  “Maybe we should come back with the abbot, Brother James, or another exorcist.”

  “We’re here. I have to see what we’re dealing with. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve met this Cassian before.” Lucille looked at her hands, which were trembling slightly.

  “How would you have known him?”

  “He’s a dead ringer for Cosmo Doheney, a boy I dated back when we lost Father and…”

  Brother Philip looked past Lucille, out the driver’s side window. “Will you look at these two.” A pair of statuesque women in gray uniforms, who could have been twins, exited the residence and approached the car.

  Lucille eyed the two women. “I can handle this. If I’m not back in a half hour, come and get me.” Lucille threw open the car door and sauntered up the glittering walkway toward the open front door like she owned the place. “Hello, ladies. I’ve come to see Cassian. Can you tell him Lucille Wilder is here.”

  The two women looked at each other without expression, turned toward the house, and reentered. Lucille stepped lively after them. Philip waited until Lucille was inside before peeling out in the driveway and racing away.

  * * *

  “Okay, gentlemen. I want to run pass formations. Caleb and”—Coach Runyon glanced at his clipboard—“Will. You’ll rotate as quarterback. The rest of you, line up. I want to see everyone run the formations as we call them out.”

  Caleb was first up. He threw the ball to his teammates as they serpentined and crisscrossed midfield or ran deep into the back field. All but two of the passes were completions. Then Will stepped in.

  The coach barked out a number. Vance Bonneux, a tall boy with a crew cut that Will knew a bit, ran to the middle of the field. He cut hard to his left and opened his arms to receive Will’s pass. Vance leapt to catch it. The ball came in so hard, it threw Vance to the ground as if he had just intercepted an asteroid.

  “Why don’t you throw the ball a little harder next time, Wilder?” Vance yelled, brushing the dirt off his arms.

  Will ignored the comment, set his legs, and prepared to throw another ball. “Twenty-seven!” the coach hollered. Todd Ferguson, a tank of a kid, built to be a linebacker, blundered out onto the field. He took three steps, turned, and met Will’s ball. It hit him squarely in the helmet, knocking him over.

  “Caleb, you’d better get back in there,” Coach Runyon said quietly from the sideline. “You’re throwing missiles, son. Now we have to work on targeting them,” he yelled to Will, motioning for him to come to the sideline.

  Caleb reattached his helmet and kicked the bench where Harlan and Boyd were sitting. “Where did string bean get an arm like that? You know what it takes to knock a guy like Todd over.” Will gently lobbed the football to Caleb as he came off the field. “What are you up to, Wilder? How do you throw like that?”

  “Focus,” Will said, not stopping.

  Later in the practice, during their water break, the coach questioned the team about the “vandalism” in the band room. He removed his hat and got very serious. “It happened after our practice the other day when most of us were gone. But if you all have any knowledge about who busted out the back wall of the band room and destroyed one of the trophy cases, I need to know, gentlemen. We can’t have this at Perilous Falls Middle.”

  Will stared at Caleb. He thought for a moment about telling the coach what he knew: how Caleb had rushed in, hit Renny, then punched a hole in the back wall of the band room. He even started to raise a hand to get the coach’s attention. Then he thought: I’d better handle this myself or bring the Brethren in—especially if he’s possessed or a demon.

  Caleb stared at Will with pure disgust until the coach called the team to line up. Coach Runyon separated the players into specialties. Specific drills started all over the field.

  “Wilder, come here for a minute,” the coach bellowed. “Have you ever kicked before, son?”

  “Not really,” said Will.

  “I want to see what you can do.” The coach handed him a football and asked Sami Korah, the team’s best kicker, to demonstrate a proper kickoff. Sami’s ball landed squarely in the end zone. Will then carried his ball to the center of the green. He jogged for a couple of steps, dropped the ball onto his foot, and kicked it hard. It hurtled forward faster than he thought possible. The ball pinged one of the goalposts, bending it back upon impact. It then sailed into an aluminum storage shed, embedding itself in the indented wall.

  The coach puffed up his cheeks and ran out to Will. “I’ve never…” He shook his head, laughing. “You’ve got a leg on you, I’ll give you that. But I don’t think we have enough goalposts for you to be our kicker. You’d better stick to receiving.”

  In the stands, Simon watched wide-eyed with amazement. “Did you see what he did to that shed? Look how he smashed in the wall,” he screeched at Cami in his high nasal tone.

  “He’s not that strong, Simon,” Cami said, leaning forward in the bleachers. “What do you think he’s doing? Is it the training or a relic?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “I don’t like the way he’s strutting around,” Cami said, watching Will stick his chest out along the sideline. “That’s so unlike Will.”

  “Let’s talk to him after practice and see if he’ll tell us anything.”

  Cami quickly spotted the explanation for the strutting. She spied a few cheerleaders from another school sitting in the bleachers near the sidelines. Will gave one of them a chin wave—the kind of thing guys who are too cool to actually wave with their hands do to acknowledge other human beings. “What has gotten into Will?” Cami asked, folding her arms. Several ideas came to mind.

  * * *

  In her march down the main hall of Cassian’s residence, Lucille passed ornate rooms filled with pool tables, slot machines, and all manner of entertainments. Poker games were in full swing in one room. What appeared to be a dance club occupied another. There were two constants in every room she passed: no men and the incessant, pulsating beat of Cassian’s strange melodic music. The whole place made her want to run. But she was determined to see Cassian in person and confirm or dispel her suspicions.


  The two tall, uniformed women entered a twelve-foot double door at the end of the hallway, shutting it behind them. The gold MODO emblazoned across the surface of the two doors left no doubt as to who was within. After several seconds, one of the women emerged. “Miss Wilder, Cassian will see you now.”

  They ushered her into a bloodred room with heavy velvet curtains and wall-to-wall carpeting. Slick black couches, tables, and chairs filled the enormous space. Smack in the center of the room, with one of his bare feet resting atop a black lacquer desk, was Cassian. A woman massaged his shoulders while others lounged on the furniture throughout the room.

  “Lucille Wilder. I don’t believe we’ve met,” Cassian said, sitting up and waving away the woman behind him.

  “No? You’re very familiar to me, Mr. Modo.”

  The DJ cinched his black floor-length silk robe over his chest and rose to his full height. “Cassian, please. Call me Cassian—I am humbled that you are ‘familiar’ with my music.” He adjusted the brown sunglasses he wore and tied his long ponytail into a man bun. He limped as he approached.

  “I’ve never listened to your music. Yet so many things about you are familiar, Mr. Modo.” Lucille lifted her chin slightly and put her hands on her hips. “I once knew a young man. You remind me of him.”

  “Really? Was he handsome too? You should give my music a chance.” Cassian’s voice was like velvet—smooth and low. He tightened the belt of the robe and flashed a smile at her. Casually flipping his hands at his waist, all the women in the room began to rise and headed for the doors like trained pets. The sudden commotion disquieted Lucille.