Both men watched her go.
Ugo lifted one of his red vials to the light overhead, shaking it. “You didn’t pinch the staff, did you, Vicar? Make a little supernatural Kool-Aid on the side?”
Baldwin was in no mood for jokes. “Clean up this mess and stop your foolishness, Ugo. This is deadly, serious business.”
“It’s stinky business too.” Ugo chuckled, returning to his beakers. “Something smells about all of this.”
Before meeting his friends on Monday morning, Will leapt on his red scooter and sped to the yard at St. Thomas Church. It was out of his way, but he had to make good on his promise to Mr. Shen. He filled an empty gallon container with the clear water that flowed from the faucet on the back side of the church. He then carried it to the leafy walking stick he had planted along the riverside months before.
While dousing the “little tree,” he caught sight of the river below. The dark red current of Sunday was no more. The water was now tinged a deep pink, like flat champagne, and it flowed over the falls and downstream as it always had.
Maybe the worst is over? Maybe the staff didn’t cause the red color at all? Could have been some sick animals in the river or something.
Just considering other explanations lightened Will’s mood. He purposely tried to push from his memory the red substance that appeared in his mother’s glass at the dining room table.
Scooting down Main Street toward Bobbit’s Bestiary, Will comforted himself with a series of possibilities.
If the river water wasn’t really blood, then Max’s dream might be wrong. The missing staff might be just a coincidence. And the staff isn’t actually mine. It’s not like it belongs to me. This has nothing to do with me! The old jaunty smirk returned to his face. So who cares if this raven took it? Whatever the raven is, maybe it’s none of my business? The last thing I need to do is go poking around and find myself face to face with another demon—
He slammed on the brakes at the corner of High Street and Phosphorus Way. What he saw not only erased his smirk, but turned Will’s mouth to a perfect O. Fluttering down the street, collecting on the corner around the edges of Bobbit’s Bestiary, were long, shimmery, black feathers. Hundreds and hundreds of feathers hovered just off the ground.
“Great,” Will said to himself, a sickening sensation rushing through his gut. “This was not part of the plan.”
“Will! Will!” a high-pitched nasal voice rang out from behind him.
Will searched for the source of the voice, but he saw no one.
“Pssst. Over here. At nine o’clock.”
To his left, Will spotted a thin hand shaking back and forth from behind a bush.
“Simon?” Will asked.
“Shhhh…” Standing indignantly, Simon wore a black trench coat, a black brimmed hat, prescription sunglasses, and shorts. With his exposed pink legs, he looked like a flamingo awaiting a downpour—which did not seem to bother him one bit. “Quiet or you’ll blow my cover. Come over here.”
Will put the kickstand down on his scooter and joined Simon on the other side of the shrubbery.
“Sit down,” Simon insisted. Will reluctantly did so.
Simon pulled a paperback Bible from his coat pocket. “I’ve been doing a lot of research,” he said, “and I found all the plagues of Egypt in the Old Testament. Pharaoh wouldn’t let the Israelites leave Egypt to worship God. So God sent ten plagues. Ten! Here’s the list, and it is not pretty.” Checking over his shoulder, he cautiously passed Will a folded, handwritten piece of paper. It read:
The Plagues
✔ 1) The Nile turned to BLOOD! Moses and Aaron “lifted up the staff and struck the water of the river, and all the water in the river was turned to blood.”
2) Frogs! “Aaron stretched out his hand over the waters of Egypt; and the frogs came up and covered the land of Egypt.”
3) Gnats. “The dust of the earth” was struck by the rod and gnats appeared on “man and beast.”
4) Swarms of flies. “There came great swarms of flies into the house of Pharaoh” and in “all the land of Egypt.” We should buy fly swatters now.
5) Plague kills livestock. All the cattle of the Egyptians died. Load up on hamburgers while we can.
6) Boils. Moses and Aaron took ashes from a kiln and threw them in the air before Pharaoh. This dust “became boils breaking out in sores on man and beast.”
7) Hail, thunder, and fire! “Moses stretched forth his rod toward heaven: and the Lord sent thunder and hail, and fire ran down to the earth.” People and animals in the field died. Only the Israelite lands were spared.
8) Locusts. Moses lifted the rod, causing locusts to cover “the face of the whole land.” They ate all the plants and all the fruit on the trees.
9) Darkness. Moses lifted his hands to heaven and there “was thick darkness in all the land of Egypt for three days.”
10) Death strikes the Egyptians. There was crying throughout the land. Remember Max’s dream. Really scary.
Will folded the paper back up and slipped it into his pocket. “Maybe the red water was just a…you know, the only thing that’ll happen. We can’t get all worked up because the staff was stolen.” A glance across the street at the pile of floating feathers surrounding Bobbit’s Bestiary convinced Will that he was lying to himself.
“Guys?” It was Cami, raising her voice as she and Andrew approached. “Will? Simon?”
Will popped up from behind the bush. “We’re here strategizing.” Will’s eyes were fixed on the feathers at the corner. “Maybe we don’t need to talk to Mr. Bobbit after all. Have you seen the river? It’s much, much lighter than it was yesterday.”
Andrew dropped his chin to his chest. “I hope Will-man’s not chickening out on us.”
“We don’t have anything else to go on, William,” Cami said. “It can’t hurt to ask Mr. Bobbit if he knows anything about ravens.” As she spoke, a thin hunchbacked old man exited Bobbit’s, carrying a broom. He swept the mat in front of the doorway.
Will could not stop watching him. The old man’s broom passed right through the dark feathers piled at least six inches thick before the door.
“Okay. Let’s all go in together,” Will said in a rush. “We’ll quiz Mr. Bobbit and leave.”
The gang immediately crossed the street.
If it wasn’t for the decomposing zombie with the broom blocking the door, they could have entered the store directly.
“What you young’uns want?” the old man asked, sweeping, never lifting his eyes to them.
“Umm, we would like to look at some of the animals,” Cami said. “I’m thinking of buying a bird.”
The old man’s gray eyes met Cami’s. “Birds are messy.” He had a nose like a hanging squash and a jutting chin. “There are plenty of birds outside in need of feeding.”
Will went to speak, but his face contorted. AH-CHOO! AH-CHOO!
“I see the dust is causin’ your friend trouble,” the old man said, yanking at the waist of his much-too-large beige pants, laughing to himself.
AH-CHOO! Will tried to control the sneezes, but he couldn’t.
Simon stepped to the front. “We’d like to talk to Mr. Bobbit. My family has bought birds from him in the past.”
“I haven’t been here that long.” The old man pointed his broom handle at Simon’s knobby knees. “Where are your pants, son?”
“I’m wearing shorts,” Simon huffed.
“Hard to see ’em with that coat. Big boy like you should be in long pants.”
Simon was about to say something when a tinkling bell sounded and the glass door behind the old man opened.
“Can I help you?” asked a sweaty man with a pear-shaped face, sticking his head around the open door. His nose seemed to be stuffed up. “Don’t mind, Crocket. He’s new and can be short at times. Come in, come in.” He hastily brought the four friends inside the cavernous store. It was lit by gas lamps and had cages hanging from the ceiling and others set into the walls.
&
nbsp; “I’m Timothy Bobbit.” He wiped his nose hard with a handkerchief and wobbled behind the counter that ran the length of the shop. As he convulsed into a coughing fit, Will thought he looked tired, as if his light had gone out. Bobbit patted the countertop with his palms. “I am in a bit of a hurry. How can I help you all?”
“We wanted some information about birds,” Will started, fighting back a sneeze.
Bobbit was jittery and obviously wished the kids were anywhere but in his store.
“As you can see, young man, we have hundreds of birds. I am really pressed for time.” He pulled a cage covered by a white cloth from the rear shelf, placing it on the counter. “What kind of bird did you have in mind?”
“Ravens. We were thinking ravens,” Simon interjected. “Do you sell ravens or know of any really big ravens?”
Bobbit adjusted the white covering on the large cage so the webbed pink feet inside could not be seen. “No, we don’t sell ravens. But I could order one.”
“Are there any here in town that you know of?” Will asked. “A raven that might steal things?”
Bobbit fluttered an impatient hand in the air. “They all steal things. They’re scavengers. The Corvus corax are a very intelligent breed. There is a small habitat across the river that I’ve heard about but…why do you want to know about ravens?”
Whatever was in the covered cage expelled a loud hiss. It made Will jump.
“We’re just interested in them—summer project. Raveny kind of thing,” Will explained with a forced giggle.
Bobbit wiped his wet brow with the handkerchief, checking his wristwatch. “I wish I had more time.” He coughed violently and added, “But I have an important delivery to make. A very important delivery.”
Deep in the store, birds in their cages rustled and cooed. Timothy Bobbit picked up a shapeless tweed sports coat from the back of a chair and slipped it on. He buttoned it over his potbelly and wide-striped tie.
“You all may look around for a few minutes if you wish. But please touch nothing. There are some very rare breeds of animals and…Well, don’t touch them.” He stuck a finger through the big brass ring on the top of the covered birdcage and lifted it from the counter, carrying it in his arms. Whatever was in the cage poked at the fabric from inside. Its explosive honking even caused Bobbit to turn his head away. Andrew opened the front door for him.
“Thank you, thank you,” Bobbit panted. “Crocket, these young people may look around for a bit,” he told the old man now sweeping the sidewalk in front of the store. “Don’t let them touch anything.” Then turning to the kids in the doorway, he said, “If I come across any ravens, I’ll be sure to let you all know. Goodbye, now. Goodbye.”
Bobbit jogged awkwardly up the street, both arms around the covered cage.
“We should follow him,” Cami whispered to the others as they stepped out of the store, watching Bobbit cross the street.
“I think she’s right.” Andrew nudged Will as he walked past him outside. “What’s he in such a hurry to deliver?”
“And who is he making the delivery to? That’s what I’d like to know,” Simon said.
Will was the only one still standing in the open doorway. The gentle chirp of the birds and growls behind him made him look back into the store. Down the center aisle bordered by wooden cages, he spotted a woman with frizzy hair. She reached up to one of the pens in the rear of the store. “We don’t sell ravens. If I come across any ravens, I’ll be sure to let you know. We don’t sell ravens…,” she repeated to herself.
He turned back to his friends outside.
“You all follow Bobbit. I’m going to poke around here,” he whispered so the old man couldn’t hear. “We can meet up later.”
His friends wanted to argue with Will, but they needed to chase after Bobbit if they didn’t want to lose him. Crocket started hosing down the sidewalk, oblivious to Andrew, Cami, and Simon leaving.
Across the street, Tobias Shen tracked the young trio. He had been observing them from behind a large oak tree for the past twenty minutes. As they followed Bobbit down High Street, Mr. Shen shadowed them, darting behind bushes and greenery while never losing his quarry.
Inside Bobbit’s Bestiary, Will turned his attention toward the woman in the back of the store.
“Excuse me,” he said cautiously.
“Oh, helloooo,” the woman said in a singsong voice. She continued to reach into the cages, never looking Will’s way. “You can come back here. I don’t bite, and these fellows hardly bite at all.”
Mayor Ava Lynch impatiently tapped her fingernail on the surface of the city council dais. She was obviously bored by the long report Harve Bleakly, the Perilous Falls water commissioner, read to the council that morning. Under normal circumstances, she had little use for Bleakly, but listening to his attempts to downplay the contaminated water infuriated the mayor. She pulled a mirror from her shiny black leather purse and checked her face. She needed more powder. Faint rust stains on her chin were bleeding through the makeup she had applied earlier. She repeatedly blotted extra powder onto her chin and then…
CRACK. She snapped the mirror case shut into the microphone before her.
Harve Bleakly stopped midsentence. Everyone turned toward the mayor.
“Harve, honey, we are all deeply impressed by your conscientious work and your efforts to explain away the traumatic events of this weekend,” the mayor said in a voice dripping with poisoned honey. “However, I, for one, have a little problem with your explanations.”
“Mayor Lynch, we haven’t concluded our tests and…uh…there’s no need for alarm since the red water has dissipated—”
“Ah-ah-ah. Don’t patronize me, sugar. You may not be able to see it, because I went through great pains this morning, but like so many of our citizens, my skin has been dyed RED.” She dropped her voice into an intimidating whisper. “I don’t enjoy having stained skin, Harve. So just tell me: what changed our water’s color?” She clawed the outer edge of the mahogany dais, as if she could leap over it and knock Harve Bleakly to the ground.
“One of the tests indicated the presence of blood, but it could also be red silt.” Bleakly fiddled with his aviator glasses. “Some on my team think it might be a global warming event…or something.”
The mayor fell back into her leather chair and rolled her eyes to the ceiling, eliciting laughter from other members of the city council.
Heinrich Crinshaw turned his microphone on. Stroking his thin mustache, he read flatly from an open folder. “Mr. Bleakly, your report says the river’s current was running backward on Saturday. Where did the red water originate downriver? Was there a source?”
Harve walked forward with a photo. “We’ve isolated it to a spot up here, north of town. It’s an area called Dismal Shoals on some of the older maps.”
Mayor Lynch bolted up. “Dismal Shoals! That’s where all those gator things sprang up earlier this summer. We’ve got pictures of them just swarming out of Dismal Shoals. Now, this is interesting.”
Dan Wilder on the other end of the dais kept his head down, flipping through documents. He could feel the heat rising up his back, forcing moisture onto his forehead. In that moment, he recalled the pictures Mayor Lynch had given him months earlier showing Aunt Lucille, Tobias Shen, Bartimaeus, and Will boarding the Stella Maris at Dismal Shoals. The police reports claimed that horrible, gatorlike creatures had crawled out of the ruins of a temple there. Dan sensed what was coming.
The mayor, now fully engaged, her eyes like pinpoints, barked into the microphone, “I’d like to move that we expand our special investigation into the strange events at the river to include this water-coloring incident. There could be a connection between this and those gator things. Someone or something is to blame for this trouble. Mr. Chairman, I’d like to call a vote.”
Only Dan Wilder voted against the motion. It passed by a wide majority: 5 to 1.
Harve Bleakly promised to report any further findings to the council.
Chairman Crenshaw was about to convene the meeting when Mayor Lynch waved a long, red-stained hand in his direction.
“If I might urge one more little vote, Mr. Chairman?” The mayor gently smoothed a hand over the great black-and-white shell atop her head. “After witnessing the anguish of our citizens during this water incident, I believe we need a consultant—someone who can help calm the tensions in our fair city. He might also help us understand some of these peculiar occurrences.”
“Who did you have in mind, Ms. Mayor?” Crinshaw asked mechanically.
“Well, it should be someone with experience and a spiritual perspective—not religious, but spiritual,” the mayor said.
“Not that sideshow charlatan,” Dan Wilder muttered under his breath into the open mic.
“Excuse me, Dan?” The mayor’s tone was accusatory.
“I didn’t mean to…I just hope we aren’t considering Pothinus Sab for this consultant position.”
“That is an excellent suggestion, Dan.” The mayor smiled, shimmying forward in her chair. “I like that. Shall we vote on Pothinus Sab, Mr. Chairman?”
“No, I wasn’t suggesting him.” Dan frenetically shook his head, as if watching some horrible accident in slow motion that he had no way of stopping. “I think he’s a fraud. What is his expertise?”
Heinrich Crinshaw pounded his gavel on the dais as if Dan were not talking. “Very well. Let’s call a vote on Councilman Wilder’s excellent motion that Pothinus Sab be named consultant to the city. All in favor?” Crinshaw began to calmly count the raised hands at the table.
“I object, Mr. Chairman. Heinrich!” Dan tossed his hands in the air. “I did not offer Sab as a consultant.”
Crinshaw scribbled the vote in his ledger. “The ayes have it and the motion passes,” he announced with no emotion. “Dan, were you abstaining from the vote? Or did you oppose the measure?”
“When was there time for a vote?” Dan bleated. “I was trying to have a discussion about Sab’s expertise.”
Will Wilder #2 Page 8
