Will Wilder #3

by Raymond Arroyo

  “No! I don’t care what you do to me. I must do this,” he hissed, glaring at his palm. At once, he turned and ran toward the sarcophagus as if his mortal enemy were inside it.

  * * *

  “Jacob gave me more credit than I am due,” Gamaliel said, indicating the diary. He handed Will a scrap of paper and a pencil. “The incense was something I came across during my Scripture readings. It’s in the Old Testament Book of Tobit. Did you know that Tobit’s son, Tobias, battled Asmodeus? An angel instructed him to catch a fish and set aside its heart, liver, and gall.”

  “A fish?” Will asked, puckering his lips the way he did when he was unsure of something. He wrote furiously.

  “Not any fish. A sheatfish. What you in America call catfish. The heart and liver of the fish must be burned on embers so that the smoke fills the air. This will weaken and repel the demon. For whatever reason, Asmodeus cannot stand it.”

  “Is that how my great-grandfather beat him?”

  “No. That’s how we weakened the thing. This one is wily. The demon has many faces and it will take more than you, as it took more than Jacob, to repel it. It’s exceptionally strong—a Marquis of Hell. You will need allies to assist you. Each will play a role.” He scratched at his brown-splotched head. “Right now, you are very alone and that worries me.”

  Bartimaeus took the notes Will had scrawled and slipped them into his hip pocket. “We’ll get Brother Godfrey to rustle up some sheatfish and I’ll bet Philip can build us an incensor to spread the smoke around.”

  “Good, good. And save the gall of the fish. It has healing properties,” Gamaliel whispered, pointing at Bartimaeus’s eyes. He then approached Will. “May I lay hands on you?”

  Will nodded without conviction.

  “You have fallen bit by bit—through a succession of bad decisions. I will pray that your attachment to the Sinestri will weaken.”

  “The Sinestri? I’m not attached to the Sinestri,” Will said.

  “Quiet,” the old man barked. He lowered his head and began to whisper to himself, hands gripping Will’s shoulders. After several seconds he shook Will urgently. “The Darkness is passing away, Will, and the true light is already shining. You have only to open your eyes to find it. Look to your friends. Look to your family. The light is there. It’ll be up to you to rekindle it. Do you understand?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good. Good. You must both go now. Time is very short and Asmodeus grows bold.” He scampered out of the dwelling, ahead of them. Will and Bartimaeus raced to keep up with the old man. They hastened up broad stairs, through a pair of cloister yards, and past an octagonal well. The old man opened a thick wooden door and they found themselves inside an abbey hallway.

  Approaching the library, Gamaliel jabbed a finger into Will’s chest, stopping him. “There is something else. This demon wants you. But to accomplish its end, it will mark and torment an innocent female—one whom you care about.”

  “The prophecy said something about that. That I had to protect an ‘innocent maiden.’ ”

  “Jacob misunderstood that part of the prophecy. The demon was after him but targeted Sarah, your great-grandmother. She was the one who could have saved him.”

  “Saved him from what?”

  “From his demise.” Gamaliel’s mouth hung slack, but he said nothing else.

  “Did Asmodeus kill my great-grandfather?”

  Gamaliel shook his enormous head. “No. Just remember the innocent maiden could protect you sometime near or far.”

  “How did he die?” Will demanded.

  Gamaliel looked at Bartimaeus, who silently looked away. “We must get you both to the sarcophagus before it’s too late.” And he dashed into the library.

  “Abbot Gamaliel. How did my great-grandfather die?” Will’s voice bounced off the outer walls of the monastery.

  * * *

  Baldwin swung the hammer high and smashed the face of the pink sarcophagus in the north tower. With each blow, chunks of the front panel and broken bits of the carved monk figure fell to the ground. Within minutes only jagged pieces, no more than a few inches high, remained attached to the base. He stepped into the remains of the casket, adjusted his stance, and began slamming the hammer against the head of the sarcophagus. After three strokes he had reduced it to dust and rocks.

  “Baldwin! Stop!” It was Tobias Shen, screeching in a tone no one had ever heard from him before. “Will and Bartimaeus are at Monte Cassino!”

  “I’m saving him,” Baldwin yelled, raising the hammer once more. Before he could lower it again, Tobias Shen charged at him. With a hand flat as a knife, he struck Baldwin in the middle of his shoulder blades. Seized by pain, Baldwin dropped the hammer and crumbled to his knees. In a lightning assault of elbows and hands, Tobias flattened Baldwin and began to yell for help.

  Moments later, Abbot Athanasius and Brother James Molay were standing over the ruined sarcophagus.

  “Why, Baldwin?” the abbot asked. Then he turned to Tobias. “I thought he was locked in his cell.”

  “He was,” Tobias answered.

  “I broke the lock on my window. He mustn’t return,” Baldwin groaned.

  “Who? Will?” Tobias spat.

  “Yes. Whatever’s inside of me wants him gone,” Baldwin whimpered.

  The abbot motioned for Tobias to step away. Athanasius touched the forefingers and thumbs of each hand, closing his eyes. A slender blue ray radiated from the abbot’s fingertips. He trained the beams on the back of Baldwin’s neck.

  “We will not come out, ATHANASIUS,” Baldwin yelled in a high-pitched voice not his own.

  Despite Baldwin’s pleas, the abbot only recited Latin in a monotone and refused to speak with the vicar. The hook-nosed man started to sing the bewitching lullaby familiar to everyone in Perilous Falls. He writhed on the floor for several minutes, his body twisting into positions no gymnast had ever attempted. The display was so fearsome, that Brother James joined the abbot, touching his index fingers and thumbs together. He also directed the blue ray issuing from his fingers at the back of the tormented vicar’s neck. At one point Baldwin’s head and heels touched, making Tobias think that Baldwin might snap in two.

  After several minutes, Baldwin’s head lunged forward as if something had hold of his chin. His mouth dropped open, and a foul purple cyclone of mist spewed from his quaking body. The mist spun upward, evaporating into the air.

  Baldwin fell to the floor, unmoving. The abbot and James pressed their palms together and the blue rays were no more. When Baldwin began to stir, the abbot knelt beside him. “Why did you destroy the sarcophagus?”

  “To spare the boy,” Baldwin blubbered. “If he returned, the voices inside urged me to strike him…hurt him…kill him. I couldn’t risk it.”

  “You should now be free of the voices. But why didn’t you come to us?”

  “How could I come to you? I visited a witch, Athanasius. In Wormwood of all places. I invited the Darkness in—into me, into this sacred house.”

  Tobias glumly picked up the broken pieces of the sarcophagus that he knew barred Will and Bartimaeus from returning to Peniel. “How will Bart and Will return to us? It could take a very long time.”

  “I don’t know, Tobias.” The abbot clutched his long white beard with two hands. “Take Baldwin to the old isolation room. Stay with him.”

  “I was envious of Will,” Baldwin cried while Tobias lifted him by the arm. “I resented his being the chosen one. My cousin Lilith told me about this woman in the swamps of Wormwood who knew the future. A woman with powers…”

  “Who is your cousin?” Tobias asked. “How old is she?”

  “She’s about my age—in her fifties. Lilith is a barmaid in Sorec. A confused but good person.”

  Tobias knitted his brow but said nothing as he and James escorted Baldwi
n down a brightly lit staircase.

  * * *

  Gamaliel tapped his foot impatiently. Will grew more troubled by the moment. Bartimaeus was still lying in the pink sarcophagus in the Monte Cassino library, staring at the ceiling. He had been in the sarcophagus for fifteen minutes, repeating the line that usually transported him after only one mention.

  “Something is wrong.” Gamaliel flapped his big hands in the air, motioning for Bartimaeus to rise. “The portal must be broken.”

  “Never seen nothin’ like this,” Bartimaeus said, sitting up.

  Gamaliel stalked away, his large head bent. “Well, you’ve seen it now. There is a problem with the sarcophagus on the other end.”

  “How do we fix it?” Will asked.

  “There is no fixing it.” Gamaliel spun around, shoving his hands into his armpits. “But there is another way to get you home. It’s risky, but it will work.”

  “I try not to do risky,” Bartimaeus said, standing.

  “It’s the only option.” Gamaliel stomped off into a canyon of bookshelves.

  “Where are you going?” Will asked, helping Bartimaeus out of the marble coffin.

  “To the crypt. Keep up.”

  “Dan, I’m sorry to trouble you,” Lucille said into the phone when she heard Will’s dad pick up.

  “Aunt Lucille,” Dan said, clearly annoyed. “What is it?”

  In the background, Lucille could hear the thrum of Cassian’s music.

  “I’m calling about Will.”

  “Is he all right? He hasn’t been hurt?”

  “He’s fine, dear. Perfectly fine. Working away here at the museum. I just didn’t want you to worry. He and Bartimaeus are laboring away on a project that is taking more time than any of us thought it would take.”

  “What project?”

  “They’re trying to locate some old book. You know how Bartimaeus is once he begins a project. There’s no stopping him. Just wanted you to know that I’ll drive Will home later.”

  “Good, I don’t want him out with those…uh…With everything happening in town.”

  “What do you mean, Dan?”

  There was a marked silence on the line.

  “I’ve seen…Just please bring him home or I’ll come get him. I don’t want him out with that music. It’s everywhere.”

  “I think I get your drift. I saw Deb the other day. She didn’t seem herself. She looked very taken with Cassian Modo’s music on her show the other night.”

  “That music is ripping us apart,” he whispered sharply. “Not only us, the whole town.”

  “You’re right. It’s audio poison. I went out to Dis. I met with Cassian Modo. Now, I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s the work of the Sinestri, Dan.”

  Lucille could hear Deb screaming out, faintly in the background, “Who are you talking to? Who is that?”

  “Was that Deborah?” Lucille asked.

  “Hold on,” Dan whispered. It sounded like he had gone into a smaller room and closed a door. “It’s transformed her. All she wants to do is listen to a loop of Cassian’s music and she is extremely protective of it. The city council is putting speakers all over Main Street to blare that junk into the ears of the few people who aren’t already hooked.”

  “Ava Lynch’s doing, I imagine?”

  “Yes…yes.”

  “We may need your help, Dan. The Sinestri—”

  “No. I can’t…I can’t. I don’t want to talk about the Sinestri and your…”

  “My what? My what? I know you’re still shaken by what you endured. But that was a long time ago. We all suffered, Dan—to protect you. You may have to do the same for your family. For your son. They’re targeting Will and he’s not even resisting.”

  “Bring him home, soon.”

  “Can I count on your help?” Lucille was stern.

  “They’re installing the speakers on Main Street tonight. I’m sure one of your sidekicks can frustrate that. Sheriff Stout told me he’s been getting calls from homes all over Perilous Falls. Objects are appearing out of thin air. Things and people are levitating. Good, sane people are fighting, turning violent. Doing crazy things. I asked him about the music. He told me the music was playing in every house he and his deputies visited. Every one. We’ve been invaded…invaded.”

  “Invaded by what, Dan?”

  Deborah called out again. “I’ve got to go,” Dan said. “Let me know if you need me to pick up Will.”

  And the line went dead.

  * * *

  Passing into the darkened cathedral at Monte Cassino, Gamaliel led Bartimaeus and Will through the marbled and gold colossus until they reached a latticed metal door along a side wall. He pushed it open and urged them to go down the tunneled stairway. Along the walls were figures of knights and women in veils, kings and young people seemingly making their way down the stairs. A mosaic firmament of stars twinkled overhead. But nothing prepared Will for what awaited him below. The gold mosaic of the crypt ceiling set the room ablaze.

  Leading them around a corner, Gamaliel opened a knee-high black metal gate. On the other side of it sat a marble altar. Behind it, two statues were set into the rear wall. They were black-robed figures, a bearded man and a woman with gold hands and faces staring heavenward.

  “This is the tomb of St. Benedict and his sister St. Scholastica,” Gamaliel enthused. “Do you recognize those two medallions beneath the statues?”

  Will did. They had the same cross-within-a-circle design as the emblem on the pink sarcophagus that had taken him to Monte Cassino.

  “Those are St. Benedict medals. They are known to ward off evil,” Gamaliel said, touching one of the gold medallions set into the black rear wall. “Now, there on my left”—he pointed to a sculpted effigy of the saint lying in a niche above them, on the side wall—“is St. Benedict. And over there, on my right, is St. Scholastica. They were brother and sister, so it’s fitting that they would reside here together. Bart, get in front of that Benedict medal over there. And, Will, you come here by this one.”

  He instructed them to place their right hands on the medallions embedded in the back wall. “You must press them at the same moment.” They did exactly as he said. To Will’s amazement, the marble wall to his left, beneath the resting figure of St. Benedict, scraped open.

  “Wow,” Will uttered.

  “No time for ‘wows.’ Come quickly and watch your step,” Gamaliel advised, crouching through the opening.

  They walked down a narrow passage to a crude metal gate. Gamaliel pulled it open and then pushed at the ancient wooden door behind it.

  “Where are we?” Will asked.

  “The oldest part of the abbey. This section survived the bombing during the war.”

  Will stared at the piles of rubble, cracked dishes, and broken statues on either side of the hallway. “If it survived, what is all this?”

  “After the bombings, the Brethren salvaged what they could and piled it in this passage. They are mementos of our past, but the real treasure is down here.”

  After several minutes they reached a bronze door covered with squares containing individual robed figures. Gamaliel pulled a huge key from his habit and jammed it into the lock. He then reached up and, in succession, pressed his hand against each of the four robed figures on different corners of the door. At his touch the figures receded.

  “So in the Middle Ages, this must have been like typing in a security code,” Bartimaeus said, chuckling.

  The tall door quivered and the clunks of the locks unlatching filled the chamber.

  “What’s all the security for?” Will asked.

  “Hooold on. I know where we are,” Bartimaeus said slowly, tightening the grip on his crutches. “Are you taking us to the Living Waters, Abbot?”

  “You shall walk into them this day,
Bartimaeus.”

  Will looked to Bartimaeus for some reaction, but he only shook his head worriedly and followed after Gamaliel. “Looord help us. Come on, Will.”

  * * *

  Cami and Max moved quickly down Main Street on their way home. With the twinkling lights in the oak trees and the big streetlamps aglow, it had a festive air. Shoppers milled about and people wandered into restaurants. Some of the stores and businesses were closing up for the evening. Max remarked on the dozen or so uniformed city employees perched on ladders. They were busily working near the overhangs and storefront canopies, up and down the street.

  When the siblings reached the Milk and Honey Bistro, Cami had an idea.

  “Max, turn into the alley here.”

  “Why? I want to go home.”

  “It’ll just be a minute. I want to try something.”

  Max gave her a sour look but did as she requested, steering his wheelchair into the shadowy alley beside the restaurant. Cami lifted the metal helmet off Max’s knees and placed it on her head.

  It fit snugly around the sides of her head, and the opening for her face seemed custom made, just for her. She approached Main Street and, avoiding the lamplight, hid in the shadows of the alley. Across the street, a group of high school girls came out of a dress shop with their newly filled bags, giggling and humming that song. DJ Cassian’s song.

  Max watched Cami’s face go blank. Her hand covered her mouth.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Max.

  “Will was right. There are little black devils next to everyone on the street. They’re everywhere.” She frantically looked to her right at the people leaving the bistro. “They’re very hazy, but I can see them when I wear the helmet.” Like huge rodents, the imps covered the street and some even crawled onto the people they accompanied.