Will Wilder #3

by Raymond Arroyo

  A city workman on the ladder in front of the dress shop spoke into his radio. “Okay, Joe. We’re wired on half the block if you want to test the audio.”

  Seconds later, Cassian’s music spilled from a few stores on the other side of Main, including Bub’s Treats and Sweets. The cluster of high school girls started singing the tune monotonously, and they were no longer laughing. It was as if the music had drugged them somehow. More imps gathered around them as they sang.

  A couple, yelling at one another, ran out of the bistro. The man tried to calm the woman, but she pushed him away. A pair of small black creatures rode on the woman’s shoulder, whispering into her ear. Cami was so spooked by what she saw, she began to pull the helmet off.

  “No. You were born to do this. Don’t be afraid,” the French-accented female voice said inside the helmet. “You are a crucial part of this mission. You must go to the cemetery. Take down the names of those whose graves have been violated, so that you all may understand.”

  Cami froze in place. “Understand? Okay, okay,” she said, afraid to move.

  “You are not safe where you are. An evil one approaches. Flee him. Return home, and later, at your first opportunity, go to the cemetery,” the voice responded.

  “Cami, what’s happening?” Max asked, troubled by the perplexed look on his sister’s face.

  There were three loud taps on the back of the helmet. Cami spun around, lifting it off her head.

  Max shifted the controls on his wheelchair so he could turn to see who was standing beside them.

  “What’s the matter, you don’t like good music?” Cassian Modo stood in the shadows, playfully holding the walking stick that he had just struck against the helmet. “Why are you the only girl in town who can resist my songs, Cami?”

  “You’re DJ Cassian.” Cami glanced at her brother fearfully. “We have to go home.”

  “What is that you have there? Some kind of noise canceler?” He tossed his ponytail over the shoulder of the floor-length leather coat he wore. “May I see it?” He tapped the dented metal of the helmet with the jewel at the end of his walking stick.

  “No,” she said, hugging the helmet to her.

  “I wasn’t going to take it, Cami. I only wanted to see what it was.” He began to bop his head in time with the music resounding on Main Street. Cassian started to echo the tune “La-dee-dah-dee-dee-dahhhh.” He watched Cami intently, waiting for a reaction.

  “We’re going home,” Cami said with false boldness.

  “Hmmm. You intrigue me. Why don’t I take you and your brother for an ice cream across the street? I have a new tune that I just came up with. No one has heard it before. You’d be the first.” He flashed his bright, white teeth. “If you give my music a chance, it’ll change you forever.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Don’t you want to be like the other grown-up girls?” He pointed at the group of high schoolers still swaying in dazed unison on the other side of Main Street. They suddenly looked at Cassian as if he had called their names. The pack of them started crossing the street. “Why do you think your friend Will is so sweet on that cheerleader from Sorec Middle School? She’s cool. She gets it. All the grown-up girls are listening—”

  Max rolled his chair onto Cassian’s foot.

  “AAAAAHHHHH. You little—You’re on my foot.” He struggled to push the mechanized wheelchair away, but it was heavy—like a small car on his toes.

  “She doesn’t want to be like your girls. We’re going home!” Max shouted. He sped out of the alley, all but pushing his sister onto Main Street.

  Cassian jumped out after them, but for whatever reason he did not give chase. Running alongside her brother’s wheelchair, Cami kept imagining all the imps surrounding them—all the invisible devils brushing their legs while they moved. She looked back to find Cassian clutching the corner of the building. He lowered his sunglasses and winked at her. A chill ran through her body. At that moment, the sound of raised voices and the crashing of furniture and glassware broke out along Main Street.

  But Cami blocked all of it out and picked up the pace. She had to catch up to Max, get home safely, and tomorrow pay a visit to the de Plancy Cemetery.

  * * *

  The low-slung chamber’s ceiling was covered in green and blue bits of glass. Along the edges were mosaic depictions of bearded old men and a few women in black veils. At the center of the space, a rounded pool of churning water ran to a tunnel on the chamber’s far side. In niches along the walls were statues of dead monks, lying atop the tombs where their remains must have been. The whole scene freaked Will out.

  “Are these ‘the waters’ mentioned in the prophecy?” he asked.

  “The very same. The Living Waters,” Gamaliel announced, the deep lines around his mouth accommodating a smile. “Abbot Anthony the Wise wrote the prophecy not far from where you are standing. His grave is just there.” Gamaliel’s eyes shot to a simple niche near the ground, occupied by a sleeping statue of dark marble.

  “How is this going to get us home, Abbot?” Bartimaeus asked in a hush.

  “The waters connect the past, the future, and the present. You must know that the waters run in Peniel as well.”

  “Yes, I do,” Bartimaeus answered.

  “Then it’s very simple. You’ll plunge into these waters, focus your minds on Peniel, and when you emerge, you should be returned.”

  “Should be?” Will puckered his lips, pushing them to the side nervously.

  “Should be,” Gamaliel said, snatching Jacob’s diary from Will. “I’ll keep that here. It’ll only be destroyed in the waters.”

  “If the diary can be destroyed, how are we going to make it?” Will asked.

  “This is ink and paper. You are flesh and spirit.” He lightly swatted Will’s pith helmet with the diary. “Do not fear! Focus on your destination and you will get there.” His voice turned serious. “When you arrive, there is only one question that you need concern yourself with: On what have I set my heart? Ask yourself that and all will be made plain. You are still tangled up in the Darkness, Wilder. Find your attachment to the Sinestri and root it out—or it will overwhelm you and devour what you have been created for.”

  Will was so confused, so worried about what awaited him back home. He stared out at the ominous waters. “What do we do now? Do we just jump in?” he asked.

  “Go out into the deep. Only by entering will you find your way.” Gamaliel extended an arm toward the waters. The pool suddenly grew choppy. “Accompany him, Bartimaeus. Remain focused on Peniel as you go beneath the waters. Oh, and you should keep your eyes closed. The images of the past, present, and future are not something any of us should look upon.”

  “C’mon, boy,” Bartimaeus said, dropping his glasses into his front pocket. He trudged forward without enthusiasm.

  “What’s wrong, Mr. Bart?”

  “I’ve heard stories about the Living Waters,” Bartimaeus whispered. “They can do unexpected things. But I’m on the ride with you, Will. We’ll make it—together.” He took Will firmly by the hand.

  The moment they stepped into the waters, they pulsated with brilliant colors. Magenta and green, red and blue swirls filled the pool. Then a straight line of water leading to the tunnel on the other side of the chamber stilled before them, as if showing them the way. All the while, the waters on either side of the quiet stream splashed and bubbled more violently than before.

  It was warm as they waded into what seemed thicker than water. Will felt like he was swimming in warm gel. And it smelled clean, like spring air carrying hints of flowery scents. Like fabric softener! Smells just like Mom’s fabric softener. Will’s smile melted into a frown as the Living Waters got hotter and Will wasn’t sure if the temperature would stabilize. His stomach ached as he thought about boiling to death in the waters.

  “Do not
fear, Wilder, only believe,” Gamaliel shouted from across the pool. Then with a laugh he added, “A teacher once told me, ‘Man is an abyss; what will rise out of the depths, no one can see in advance. Go your own way.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about—going the wrong way!” Will yelled back.

  Gamaliel made a steeple with his big hands. “On what have you set your heart?” He beat out each word with his hands.

  “You thinking about Peniel?” Bartimaeus asked Will.

  “Yep,” he said in a shaky voice.

  Will waved to Gamaliel, exchanged a look with Bartimaeus, and within moments the pair were sucked beneath the surface of the Living Waters.

  It was the strangest sensation Will had ever experienced. Beneath the waters, it was no longer hot, but cool. And though he knew he was moving, he felt as though he were inside a bubble. All the while, Will tried to keep his mind focused on Peniel, and home, and his family.

  He desperately wanted to open his eyes. Where were they exactly and for how much longer would this continue? He held Bartimaeus’s hand tightly. After several minutes Will could no longer resist.

  I’ll just take a quick peek. One eye. Only one eye.

  He lifted his right eyelid and gazed out at the twinkling, colored water. It blurred past like colored lights seen through the window of a speeding car. But as he focused, the colors formed shapes.

  There was a man in a pith helmet. It was his pith helmet.

  That must be my great-grandfather.

  Jacob was screaming in terror. He ran toward a woman. She held a knife above her head. She too was screaming, struggling with something…no, with someone. A boy. She held a boy by the arm and she was slashing at him, trying to cut him with the knife. Jacob grabbed her. They fought until she dropped the blade. Her face filled with anger, like that of a mad dog. She broke free of Jacob and lunged for the boy.

  Will was too frightened to keep watching. He snapped his eye shut and tried to forget what he had seen. What did it mean? Who were the woman and the boy?

  The next thing he knew, he was bobbing atop the waters in a dark place.

  “I think we made it, Will,” Bartimaeus said.

  Will was still stuck in the memory of the violent images. He had seen just enough to rattle him and summon a hundred questions.

  They were in a crypt, much like the one they’d left. Only here, there were no decorations, no mosaics. Just raw stone and tombs cut into the niches on the walls. The only light—with a flickering gray quality—came from the other end of the huge cavern. Will rubbed his eyes and saw what appeared to be a cloud, a swirling mass across the waters. It dully flashed, as if thunder lived within the smoky column.

  “What’s that?” Will asked, breaking away and paddling toward the cloud.

  “Ooooh no,” Bartimaeus said, grabbing Will by the collar of his shirt. “We made it back to Peniel in one piece—and I want you to stay that way. Let’s go. Out of the water.” Bartimaeus directed him to the edge of the pool.

  When Will stood, he was astonished that his clothes were not wet in the least. He ran his hands up and down his arms, over his pith helmet, and through the back of his hair. All bone-dry.

  “This is so cool.” Will laughed to himself.

  Bartimaeus slowly climbed the low steps out of the pool. “It is cool. They used to call this Perilous Chapel. Your great-granddaddy would spend a lot of time down here. Still does.” He pointed a crutch toward the sleeping carved figure near Will’s feet—a sharp-boned man with a pith helmet over his chest.

  “He’s here? He’s buried here?” Will asked, taking it all in.

  “Sure is. He liked to come down to the crypt to think, to prepare for battle. A lot of your relatives are down here—and a lot of my old friends.”

  “Why’s the cloud over there, Mr. Bart?”

  “I’m tellin’ ya, boy, don’t go near that. It’s too powerful. I know you did ya thing with some of the relics up in here. But that cloud is serious. So keep ya distance, ya hear?”

  Will couldn’t take his eyes off the slowly twisting column of smoke in the corner.

  “Come on. It’s late. We’ve got to get you home. Your grandfather Joseph had an elevator installed years ago. I hardly ever come down here. But it’s over this way somewhere.” He felt along the wall near Jacob’s tomb. “Here it is.” Bartimaeus found a light switch. An elevator with a retractable metal gate illuminated. “Take this upstairs and get your aunt Lucille, right quick. I know she’s worried about you. I’ve got a little business to attend to.” Deflecting Will’s questions, Bart pressed the only button inside the elevator and sent Will on his way.

  Once the elevator was out of sight, Bartimaeus returned to the edge of the pool. He leaned on his crutches, opened his palms, and shut his eyes tightly.

  “Jacob, I need some help here. This demon’s got his hooks into your great-grandson. I need to see how you took this thing down and what we can do to help Will. Let me see. Ut Videam. Ut Videam.”

  The cloudy column spun to the middle of the Living Waters. At the center of the column, images began to pulsate in the haze. Then the fog that obstructed them slowly cleared and Bartimaeus could discern the images. He looked like a child seeing a movie on a big screen for the first time. There was wonder and then terror in his milky eyes.

  * * *

  Friday was the day of the big game. Immediately after school, Cami, Simon, Andrew, and Will were planning to meet at Bub’s Treats and Sweets for a quick snack. Will would then grab a bite at home and get ready for the game. But the afternoon didn’t go that way.

  Cami, Simon, and Will sat at the chrome-edged table by Bub’s front window. Andrew was late. Will told them nothing about his visit to Monte Cassino, but he did offer glimpses of what he learned there.

  “Be real careful, guys,” he said conspiratorially, leaning across the table so others could not hear. “There’re little devils everywhere.” (He could faintly see a few crawling about as he came into the shop.) “I know everything seems normal, but all over town, bad stuff is happening beneath the surface.”

  “Oh, bad stuff’s always happening beneath the surface, hon,” Miss Ravinia said, breaking in on their conversation. “Life’s a lot sweeter when you ignore the negativity and focus on the positive. Here’s your Puffer Fluffs, kids. How’s that for something positive?” She cackled as she dropped the plates of smoking hot treats in the middle of the table.

  The kids reached for the fried bloated squares filled with cinnamon cream like they had not eaten all week.

  “Tonight’s the big game. Are you all coming?” Will asked, with half his mouth full.

  “We’d love to come,” Simon said, “but Cami and I have to—”

  Cami kicked him hard under the table. “We have to go to some event for Max. But why don’t we meet at Burnt Offerings after the game? We can celebrate your win!”

  Simon adjusted his glasses and resumed reading his paperback.

  “I hope we win,” Will said. “It’s all about the team and we don’t exactly get along. That Caleb is a really bad dude.”

  “Not him again….” Simon never looked up from his book.

  “I’m telling you, he’s a demon!” Will said a little too loudly, drawing some looks from people in the shop. He whispered, “He’s a demon. He enjoys hurting people. And every time he’s around, my nose goes crazy.”

  The sight of Andrew running past the window, red-faced and panting, stopped all conversation. The boy threw open the front door and darted to his friends’ table.

  “Oh, am I glad to see you here, Will-man,” he huffed. “There’s trouble in the locker room. Everybody’s been looking for you.”

  “What happened?” Will asked.

  “Todd, Harlan, and Boyd—they were hurt. They were in the locker room with Caleb and—”

  Fi
re lit Will’s eyes. “Caleb hurt them? What was I just telling you guys? What did he do?”

  Andrew shook his head. “Caleb didn’t do it. They think you did. Caleb, Todd, Harlan, and Boyd were dressing early to run some drills, and they say they heard your voice in the locker room. You started razzing them.”

  “But he’s been with us from the moment class ended,” Cami said.

  “It was definitely not Will,” Simon said, eyeing the last Puffer Fluff just as Andrew saw it. Simon jammed it in his mouth. “Will couldn’t have doooon aaaaht.”

  “And you say I’m a pig,” Andrew said, dismissing Simon.

  “I was here the whole time.” Will was getting louder. “It’s Caleb. I’m telling you, he’s either possessed or he’s Asm—Modo.”

  “You think he’s Cassian Modo? My brother and I ran into him the other night….” Cami was now thoroughly confused.

  “The guys said they heard your voice, Will-man, and then three of them were slashed. Their legs. Their arms. There was blood everywhere.” Andrew ran two hands through his mop of red hair.

  “It’s the demon. He’s hurting his own friends. That’s what it does. It creates vessels; then it destroys them!” Will shouted.

  “Kids, let’s try to keep it down,” Miss Ravinia said, rushing to the table. She picked up the empty plate. “Y’all are scaring people.” Even the cats nuzzling the legs of other customers started to mew. “The animals are getting spooked too. Let’s try to talk quietly.” She put a finger, like a corn dog, to her mouth and bounced away.

  “There’s something I don’t get—they’re saying they saw me slash those three oafs?” Will jumped out of his chair. “Caleb saw me do it? Is that what he’s saying?”

  “No, no, no. Calm down.” Andrew blocked him from running out the door. “They all heard your voice, but Caleb was on the other side of the lockers when this went down. Boyd, Harlan, and Todd said it happened so fast, they didn’t see anybody. I told Coach that I thought you’d be here—and I’m glad you were.”