But it was too late for that. Marin cupped the limp young pigeon in her small hands and when she opened them, the bird flew down the street.
“See? I helped them,” Marin said with a crooked smile.
“Get inside and don’t touch the squirrel,” Will said, taking both his brother and sister by the arms. “Mom!” he yelled, opening the front door. “We’re having a little problem out here with the kids.”
That night, Dan knelt beside the tub in his upstairs bathroom to run water for Marin’s bath. He turned on the spigot and leaned back, trying to watch a baseball game on TV through the open door of his bedroom.
“Marin. It’s almost bath time, honey,” Dan yelled downstairs. “Deborah, can you make sure she bathes? I don’t want to miss the end of this game.” Moments later, it happened.
At her palatial home on Gabbatha Place, Mayor Ava Lynch tied her hair back, preparing to wash away the makeup she had caked on that morning. She twisted the two stainless steel handles on either side of the duckbill faucet. Cupping the water from the basin, she splashed it onto her angular face. In the huge light-rimmed mirror behind the sink, she took note of each crevice, each line, the sagging skin above her eyes, and how the years had marked her. As she dipped her hands once more into the basin, it happened.
Evelyn Meriwether had just put Max’s classical music on in the den, which always relaxed him after dinner. Returning to the kitchen, she was confronted by a sink full of dirty dishes. Cami followed her in.
“Let me help you, Mom,” Cami said, grabbing a towel from a drawer. “I’ll dry if you wash.”
“How could anyone refuse an offer like that?” Evelyn said with a giggle. She ran water over the dishes and pressed a button on the countertop CD player. The haunting voice of Pothinus Sab filled the kitchen.
“I often ask employers: Why do you give your workers so many breaks? Why do you take people away from their work?” the gritty voice echoed from the speaker. “We need our burdens. Welcome your burdens! Embrace your burdens! For there you shall find true regeneration.”
“That’s us, Cami,” Evelyn said, soaping up the dishes. “Who’d have thought we’d find true regeneration at the kitchen sink?”
“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Mom,” Cami sighed, toweling off the wet dish. She reached for the next dripping plate, then it happened.
Lucille Wilder may have been the first one in town to witness the phenomena. From the window of her baby-blue wedding cake of a house perched along the Perilous River, Lucille absently glanced out the window, down to the dock where her boat, the Stella Maris, was moored. Under the floodlight at the end of the dock, the river seemed to be flowing in the wrong direction. It usually ran north from the Perilous Falls. Not this night. Lucille opened the door to the front porch and sprinted down to the dock for a closer look. The water left scarlet stains as it licked the rocks along the river’s edge, startling her. She stared hard at the water, trying to make sense of it. The color of bleeding beets, the river flowed backward beneath her pier. Could she be imagining this? Lucille’s head pounded. She froze for a moment, gawking at the red cascade. Her hand instinctively went to her nose. The river carried the stink of death. Collecting herself, she spun on her heels, sprinted behind her home and up the winding path toward Peniel.
“What in the—” Dan Wilder shouted when he saw the thick red liquid spreading through the water in the tub. He crab-crawled into the corner of the bathroom at the sight. Then he lunged for the spigot to stop the red intrusion. Squeals could be heard from the floor below, which sent Dan racing to the staircase.
Downstairs he found his wife and Will in the middle of a board game at the dining room table. Will had just leapt to his feet. Deborah stared at the glass in her hand, panting, as if it contained some alien life-form.
“Dan, look at this.” Deborah’s eyes were fixed on her glass. “This was water. A minute ago it was clean water. I drank it.” The contents were now bloodred and smelled like something from a backed-up toilet.
“Put it down on the table, Deb,” Dan advised.
“What’s going on?” Will asked. Deep in his stomach, he felt a pinching sensation. Max’s dream was coming true. Blood. The raven had brought blood.
“You should see the tub upstairs,” Dan said, pacing in a jittery circle. He nervously ran a hand along his cheek, the one marked by three slight scars. “There’s red…water…coming out of the faucet.”
“I understand rusty pipes or dirt darkening the water,” Deborah said, trying to compose herself, still staring at the red goo in the water glass on the table. “But what the heck is that? I just drank it. Will saw…It was water, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. It was water,” Will said. He pushed past his brother and sister, who stood in the dining room doorway, looking perplexed.
“I’ve got to go upstairs. I’ll be right back.” Will climbed the stairs and ran into his bedroom.
“Let me call city hall. Probably a broken water main or…a…a,” Dan stammered. “I’m sure it’ll be fixed soon.” He stumbled toward the kitchen.
“A broken water main does not explain what is in my glass, Dan.” Deborah grabbed the scarlet glass and paraded it into the kitchen. “Look at this! I wasn’t filling this up when the color changed. It turned red on the table! Explain this!” She held the glass near Dan, who frantically punched numbers into the kitchen phone.
Upstairs, Will did his own frantic tapping on his cell phone. It rang and rang until Cami finally picked up.
“Will, there is blood in our kitchen sink,” Cami said, the sounds of commotion and shrieking in the background. “My parents are totally freaking out. Mother wants Dad to take us all to see Pothinus Sab.”
“I know. Except for the Sab thing, similar situation here,” Will said, on the edge of losing it. “My mother’s glass of water turned all red. Could it be blood? Do you think it’s blood?”
“It’s not egg dye. Did you smell it?”
“I tried not to.”
“It’s blood, William. You should see our dishes.”
Will’s cell phone bleeped repeatedly, letting him know that he had another call. It was Simon. Will connected everyone in a three-way conversation.
“My father was in the shower. Will, he looks like he cut himself shaving—if he shaved HIS WHOLE BODY!” Simon shrieked. “Boy was he angry. He came into my room in a robe. His skin was completely red. I said, ‘Were you trying to make that pasta sauce again?’ That’s when he flipped. He’s stained from head to—”
“Simon, hold up a minute,” Cami insisted. “You know what this means, guys? Max’s dream was totally right. He wasn’t even surprised when it happened. We’ve got the blood, so where is the raven?”
No one had anything to offer until Will jumped in.
“The raven must have the staff. The display case at Peniel had this whole explanation of the miracles Moses performed with it. Do you all know what the first one was? He turned the river water to blood.”
“Wait, wait,” Simon said. “So you’re saying the plagues of the Old Testament are hitting our town because somebody stole the staff?”
“I am,” Will said flatly.
Simon hesitated and then spewed, “My dad thinks red clay got into the water supply or something.”
“Parents are supposed to try and calm you down. That’s their job. But the truth is sometimes scarier,” Will said, almost to himself. He could feel his heart racing and wished he could crawl under his sheets and wake later to find that this was all some nightmare.
“We’ve got to figure out where this raven is,” Cami said, “and why it’s doing all this.”
“I agree.” Will was resolute. “Has Max said anything else about the darkness? You know, ‘the raven brings darkness’ stuff?”
“Not a word,” Cami said.
“Well, we can’t let the ‘darkness’ come….Simon, you’re Mr. Sunday School. Figure out what else Moses’s staff can do and let’s all meet Monday morning at Bobbit’s like
we planned. I’ll remind Andrew.”
At that moment, a pounding on the front door pulled Will’s attention away. He quickly got off the phone and stood at the banister overlooking the foyer.
When Dan Wilder opened the front door, Heinrich Crinshaw, the mustached chairman of the city council and his next door neighbor, walked into the house uninvited. He seemed to be in the middle of a conversation that had started long before he arrived.
“The mayor is in a lather, Dan. Whole town’s up in arms,” Crinshaw said, the circles under his eyes darker than usual, the bags beneath them fuller. “Mayor just called. She was washing her face, splashed the blo—the red liquid all over. Screaming, just screaming on the phone.” His beady eyes darted side to side. “The water commissioner is already down at the river investigating. The mayor has called a special session of the city council, Monday morning. We’ll need you there.”
Dan, sensing Crinshaw’s nervousness, placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m fine, Dan. Fine,” he said in a trembling whisper. “You don’t think it’s really blood, do you?”
Aunt Lucille jammed her rusted key into the heavy front door of Peniel. She intentionally smashed her palm into the dragon’s face carved onto the door, the one being speared by a knight. She proceeded to the marbled bathroom off Bethel Hall and threw the faucet on. Crystal-clear water flowed out.
As she exited, a wooden stick caught her across the stomach.
“Where do you think you’re goin’?” a threatening voice warned.
Lucille took hold of the wood. “Bart, unless you’ve got an armed posse with you, you’d better lower that thing before you get hurt.” The crutch blocking her path descended. The hall suddenly flooded with light.
“Scared the daylights out of me, Lucille. What are you doin’ here? So I was heading down to bed and PEEYONG—there you went flying by in the dark. I thought, ‘I don’t know who this is, but they’re not snatching anything else out of this museum.’ ” Bartimaeus laughed a little and situated his crutch under his right arm.
“You’ve had no water problems here?” Lucille asked.
“Water problems? Uh-uh. I just grabbed a glass before I came up.” He laid a hand on his belly. “Least I hope we’re not having any water problems. So what’s the story?”
The appearance of Valens squinting from the hallway in a blue robe like an awakened youngster on Christmas Eve stopped their conversation.
“Bart? I saw the light and thought I should check on you,” he said. “Oh, Lucille. Getting rather late for a visit.”
“Some odd things are happening around town,” she said.
“The water you mean? It’s terrible, isn’t it?”
“How did you know about the water?” Lucille crossed her arms.
“What are you two talking about?” Bart asked.
“The water is running red in Perilous Falls,” said Valens. “I heard screams outside the bedroom window, so I turned the radio on in my room. It’s quite terrible. Though it must be affecting only a few areas. We’re fine here. Brushed my teeth only moments ago. Look.” He smiled, revealing his pearly whites.
“I don’t like this,” Bartimaeus said, walking toward the door marked PRIVATE. “Someone or something is causing this.” He stopped his advance and turned back to his friends. “Lucille, you know the score. This is big-time.”
“They’re using the staff,” Lucille said gravely.
“I don’t understand,” Valens said. “Who’s using the staff?”
“The Sinestri control the Staff of Moses. It’s begun. We need to inform the abbot.”
“Where ya think I’m headin’?” Bartimaeus said, hobbling through the private door.
“What’s begun?” Valens asked Lucille, drawing the robe over his chest.
“The plagues—terrible trials for the people of Perilous Falls and all of us.”
“But we’re safe here at Peniel, aren’t we?” Valens asked with a weak smile. “Surely we’re safe here.”
Sunday was odd, even by Perilous Falls standards. Everyone seemed to be on the streets. Residents mobbed groceries and convenience stores, quickly buying up all the bottled water in town. Phones at city hall rang off the hook with outraged citizens demanding “the clean water we pay our taxes for.”
Local TV broadcasts examined the “red-stained water” infecting the town. Even Deborah Wilder was called in to file a story for WPF Channel 4, the local station that produced her Supernatural Secrets series.
Deborah discovered that there were places in town where the water still ran clear. She reported that three sites—St. Thomas Church near the Falls, Peniel, and the new Karnak Center on Dura Street—all somehow had clean water.
By Sunday afternoon, lines of bottle-toting residents had formed at the three locations. The line at Peniel was particularly long, snaking in front of the wrought-iron external gate clear down High Street. Tobias Shen and Brother Godfrey manned the hose attached to the side of Bethel Hall, filling the bottles of all comers.
“Je vous en prie—ah, forgive me. You are most welcome,” said Godfrey, passing an overflowing bottle to a woman. He was a stooped, kindly brother in khakis and a polo shirt, and his speech had a delicate French air. “It is our pleasure. May it bring you blessings.” He nodded his head, which he did at the start and conclusion of any meeting.
An old Hispanic man stepped forward next. “This place must have its own well,” he said, relinquishing his bottle to Tobias Shen. “Can’t be river water running up here. Just look at the rapids.” They all turned, glancing over the treetops to the red raging waters of the Perilous River below.
“Stay away from the river if you can,” Tobias warned the man. “There is danger, so, so much danger there.” He glared at the water as if never wanting to see it again.
Lucille Wilder had similar feelings. Early that morning, after church, she had taken the Stella Maris out along the stinking river to collect water samples. With rubber gloves, she dipped vials into the current at the end of her dock, near the falls, and downstream, close to Dismal Shoals. She immediately conveyed the samples to Ugo Pagani, Peniel’s resident herbalist, cook, and chemist.
Lucille followed Ugo to his lab, a bright room in the rectangular tower at the back end of Peniel. He negotiated between the large black marble tables covered with Bunsen burners, glass tubing, scales, and brightly colored vials.
“Pee-yew,” Ugo said, opening one of the samples. “Smells like your cat just barfed up some old Fancy Feast. The aroma in your neighborhood must be something special, Lucille.” He guffawed to himself while separating the samples onto slides and into beakers.
“I don’t have a cat—and I didn’t come for your jokes. Just tell me what we’re dealing with, Ugo dear.”
“This could take a while.” He poured a few drops of the red water into a container of blue fluid. “Your perfume’ll be ready for bottling in a few hours, madam.” He half bowed, releasing a raucous laugh.
Aunt Lucille gave him the fish eye, turning her back to Ugo’s boiling and beaker shaking.
She occupied herself at a corner table before a slim medieval window. Opening an old volume from her father’s office, a large Bible, she turned to the book of Exodus. There she studied the plagues God sent to the Egyptians via Moses and his staff.
Before she was finished making her notes, Ugo Pagani spoke in his sweetest New York tone. “Okay, we’re closin’ up the reading library. I have results.” He wore a leather apron over his black habit. Ugo ripped a pair of goggles from his puffy face.
“Go on, don’t keep me in suspense,” Lucille said, shutting the Bible.
“The suspense is half the fun.” Ugo held a printout in his gloved hands. His black bushy eyebrows lowered. “This is surprising…that river stinks BAAAD! Ha-ha-ha.” Lucille looked away and pulled at the cuffs of her silk jacket, trying to ignore his attempts at humor.
“Okay, okay. Here’s the goods: It’s blood. Mammal blood. I can’t say if it’s human o
r animal yet. But it’s not dye.”
“Any guess as to what would cause the entire river to fill with blood?”
“Your reading material probably offers better guesses than I can provide,” Ugo said.
Baldwin walked in unannounced. He seemed to trace an invisible line around the entirety of the lab with his hawk nose before he ever addressed Lucille or Ugo.
“Well,” Baldwin said, staring at the red bubbling beakers on the tables behind Ugo, “at least we know what we’re dealing with.”
“But we don’t know where that staff is,” Lucille said, rising. “Have you got any leads?”
“Yes, I do. Bartimaeus, your great-nephew, or possibly you, Lucille.” Baldwin watched her closely.
“Me? Oh, Baldwin. I haven’t touched that staff in over a year. I have access to everything in the collection…Me? If I’m a primary suspect, you’d better restart your investigation.”
“You have a key to the display locks. You know the alarm codes. It’s a possibility.”
Aunt Lucille was having none of it. “You also have a key to those locks. The same one Valens borrowed to clean the mummy. Did he return it to you when he finished his work that night?”
“He did,” Baldwin said defensively. “He placed it on the hook in my office before he went to the chapter meeting. I questioned him at length.”
“Aah.” Lucille walked in wide, defiant steps to Baldwin, stopping only a few inches away from him. “So there would have been time for you to use the key, take the staff, and mingle with the community after the meeting. You didn’t make it to chapter that evening, did you?”
“How did you—I was securing the house. I am the vicar of this community.” His temper simmered beneath every word.
Lucille brightened, her eyes suddenly merry. “Do you see how empty charges sting when they aren’t backed up by very much, dear? I’m glad we had time to chat. Now I have to go figure out how to save this town.” She waved a hand in the air. “Thanks for your help, Ugo.”
Will Wilder #2 Page 7
