●
Eliza tried to focus on what Aceveda was telling her, but she hadn’t completely woken up yet. She had expected to have a decent night’s sleep after the battery of tests the woman put her through the night before, but instead she tossed and turned, unable to acclimatize to the room, the mattress, and what was happening around her. She felt a million miles from Granger and Robert, Pitmon House, and her homestead in Spring Green.
Now, Aceveda was trying to show her an umbrella, and she wasn’t getting it.
“No!” the woman said. “Hold it like this. Look. Stop. Drop into the River and look at it.”
Eliza let herself drop into the flow and looked at the three foot umbrella she held in her hand. It transformed into a long, thin pole with sections of metal that extended from it at odd angles.
You see, it’s not an umbrella, Aceveda said. What does it remind you of?
She examined it closely: it had a handle at one end, and lots of cut metal notches extending out. It’s kind of like a key, she said. A giant key.
That’s exactly right, the woman replied. But not like a little flat key. This is a three-dimensional key, with all kinds of millings and grooves that extend around the entire pole. And whereas a key is designed to unlock a specific lock, this key is much more powerful, because it’s designed to pick any lock.
Eliza knew what the woman was telling her was important, and she tried to clear the cobwebs from her mind so she could take it in. You mean it’s like a lockpick?
Exactly, the woman replied. This one was built by my great-great grandfather, and has been tested and used many times. It’s almost ninety-seven percent perfect. It’s one of the best.
And it’ll get through that wall? Eliza asked.
They dropped from the River. “It might,” the woman replied. “As with any lockpick, it doesn’t work by itself. It requires a skilled user, someone who knows how to make it perform its function.”
“So legend shelves aren’t impenetrable!” Eliza said.
“Nothing is impenetrable,” Aceveda replied. “But a correct legend shelf is nearly that for several reasons. The first is that a legend shelf that is properly set up and maintained is extremely strong. The ones that become susceptible to penetration are ones that were poorly executed, ones that have some kind of weakness. Second, picks like this are extremely rare; most people don’t even know they exist. I wouldn’t have shown this one to you unless I thought you were the right person, and of course I put you under oath to keep it secret. Third, having a pick means nothing. It must be wielded by someone who knows what they’re doing. And fourth — probably most importantly — even with all that, not all gifteds can pull it off. There’s an extra element that’s required, something in your makeup that allows you to intuit the lock while you’re using the pick.”
“I’m going to guess that you think I have that something?” Eliza asked. “That’s what all the tests were about?”
“Yes,” Aceveda replied. “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen it in people. I believe you’ve got it; at least, that’s what the tests say.”
Eliza felt the last of the morning’s fogginess leave her mind as the import of what Aceveda was trying to communicate began to sink in.
“I’m going to show you how to use this thing,” the woman said, “to get through that wall. Once I’m convinced you know what you’re doing, I’m going to let you borrow it and use it at Pitmon House.”
“Wow, OK,” Eliza said, fully awake.
“Before we learn how to use it,” Aceveda said, removing the umbrella from Eliza’s hand, “I need to show you something else first. Follow me.”
She led Eliza through the house to the basement. It was finished but empty. At the back of the large open space was a door, and Aceveda led Eliza to it. Inside was a table, and on the table sat three large devices. Aceveda walked up to one of them and looked down.
“Look here,” she said. “This is my legend shelf. Have you ever seen one before?”
Eliza looked at the smooth, flat rock surface. It was large, about three feet wide, and had a shiny black top. Thin red lines glowed on it, slowly pulsing. It looked intriguing, and Eliza found herself drawn to it in an inexplicable way. “No,” she replied. “I’ve never see one.”
“Of course you haven’t,” Aceveda said. “These lines show the demarcation. I can adjust them by moving them.” She reached out and pressed on one of the lines. It turned green, and she slid it an inch to the right, releasing it. “There, just gained another six feet of protection! Reach under here,” she said, pointing to the edge of the stone.
Eliza felt under the front and right surface. There were buttons and dials there; she was careful to not activate them.
“You can change the view with these,” the woman said, “and set up the layout you need.”
“What does it do, exactly?” Eliza asked.
“Keeps people and things out,” Aceveda replied, “when it’s working correctly. If it isn’t, it can be a real problem.”
“You think that’s what I’m dealing with, behind the wall?”
“Granger and his son said they felt pressure, the closer they got to it, correct?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a good indication a legend shelf is involved, and that the demarcation lines have blurred. When you tried to pass through the wall, you couldn’t, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“So it’s still operational, and still protecting whatever is inside there, but something is wrong with it. How long ago was it abandoned?”
“Not sure exactly,” Eliza replied. “Decades, at least.”
“A lot can go wrong in that amount of time,” Aceveda said. “For one of these to remain effective, it has to be maintained.”
“I’d like to learn how,” Eliza said, leaning over the display, reaching for the controls under the edge.
“I can see you would,” the woman replied. “But we don’t have time for that today. What’s important is that you realize what we’re dealing with. This device is behind that wall, keeping you out. It shouldn’t be infecting things around it, like your music machine, so that tells me something has gone wrong with it. And if there’s something wrong, there’s something to exploit. It’s much, much harder to crack one that’s functioning perfectly.”
“But it can be done?” Eliza asked, turning to look at Aceveda.
“Well,” she said slyly, “you’re under oath, so I can tell you. Yes, it can be done. That isn’t anything we want getting out, so don’t repeat it. I have investments in the legend shelf market, and I don’t want to see them erode. It’s best that everyone thinks it’s impossible, capiche?”
“Capiche,” Eliza replied. “But I have a question for you.”
“Yes?”
“The point of all this is my brother. Something about the automaton infected him; at least, that’s what we think happened, because we got a match on a Tapura. My friend, who was burned at Pitmon House, felt that if we could dig up where the automaton came from, it would lead us to something that would help Shane. If a legend shelf is malfunctioning, and responsible for infecting the automaton before it was sold to House on the Rock, how does that help? Is there something about the legend shelf that suggests a cure? If so, do we really need to get to the legend shelf to pursue something that will help my brother? Does it take shutting down the legend shelf to end his infection?”
“No, that won’t work,” Aceveda replied. “If the legend shelf was responsible for corrupting the automaton, that’s a done deal, and the automaton is operating off its own energy now. I would be highly doubtful that shutting down the legend shelf would somehow resolve your brother’s condition. It might explain it, but it wouldn’t end it.”
“That’s what I mean,” Eliza said, growing frustrated. “What will end it? That’s what I need!”
Aceveda led her back upstairs. “Have you ever played with mazes?”
“When I was a kid.”
“Then you know how they work. There are lots of twists and turns. Some of them are dead ends. You have to keep going until you find the way out.”
“But…”
“Wait,” Aceveda said. “I’m not finished with my wise analogy. The entire time you’re in the maze, making the twists and turns, you know what the goal is, right?”
“Yes, it’s to get out.”
“But just knowing that’s the goal doesn’t really do much for you while you’re in the middle of it, trying to figure it out, right? You can’t jump from the middle of the maze to the exit. You have to work your way there, correct?”
“It seems like a highly simplistic analogy. It doesn’t really relate to the complexity of what we’re doing.”
“The best analogies are simple ones,” Aceveda said, returning to the study. “When you’ve reached the exit of the maze, what have you created?”
“Created?” Eliza asked. “Created? Well, I don’t know. I made it out. I created an exit.”
“Think about it!” the old woman insisted. “You didn’t create an exit; it was already there, waiting. You started, you kept at it, and you finished. What did you create? Imagine drawing your way through one, on a piece of paper.”
“A path,” Eliza replied. “I suppose I’ve created a path.”
“Exactly,” Aceveda replied. “What’s the value of the path?”
“It’s a solution,” Eliza replied. “It’s how to solve the puzzle.”
The old woman shook her head. “My god, you have so much to learn.” She walked to the umbrella. “We’ll have to save the philosophy for later I’m afraid. Right now, I want to show you how to use this thing.”
●
Eliza’s arm was aching. She’d been holding the metal rod for a long time, suspended inside the mortar of a brick wall in Aceveda’s back yard. She dropped from the River for a second, and was disturbed to see the umbrella half embedded in the bricks, the wooden handle sticking out.
“I didn’t say you could drop out!” Aceveda said, and a stick fell, hitting her on her hands. It stung.
“Will you stop doing that!” Eliza said. “I’m not a child!”
“Then stop fucking around and hold it correctly!” Aceveda snarled.
“It’s heavy!”
“Not heavier than your heart will be if you let your brother die! Now hold it!”
Eliza dropped back into the River and grasped the wooden handle on the end of the rod. She lifted it a little, taking on its weight, which allowed her to pick up on tiny sensations produced by the metal millings and grooves that extended from its core.
A half an inch more, Aceveda said. Gently, and feel for resistance.
Eliza pressed the rod in slowly, her forearm aching. She felt something touch on the right side of the rod.
Where on the rod is the resistance? Aceveda asked. The tip? The middle? Where?
It felt like the tip, Eliza replied. On the right.
Angle down a degree and push to the left, the woman said.
She adjusted the rod and continued. As each point of resistance was met, Aceveda walked her through how to get around it. It felt as though she’d been holding the heavy rod for hours.
I can’t keep holding it! Eliza said. My arm is about to give out!
You can let it rest if you find a spot with no pins, Aceveda replied. If you set it down on a pin, we’re starting from scratch.
Eliza carefully rotated the rod and tried lowering it. She felt something touch the rod near the handle, so she stopped and lifted it again, rotating it to a new position. When she was happy with it, she lowered it again. It rested.
There, she said.
Try pulling on it, Aceveda said.
Eliza took the handle and gave it a light tug. It slid out easily.
It should have stuck, the old woman commented. If it comes out, you didn’t have it right.
Damn! Eliza said, and dropped from the River. The entire umbrella was in her hand, the tip having cleared the brick wall. “We’ve been at this for hours. Can’t I rest my arm for a minute?”
“Rest,” Aceveda said, turning to go into the house. “And think of your poor brother, tied to the bed.”
Eliza sighed. Aceveda was ruthless in focus, driving her to learn how to use the pick relentlessly, not taking any excuse and constantly directing her back to the next thing to learn. She rubbed at her arm, trying to soothe the pain, knowing that Aceveda was right; she needed to focus and learn. She’d just never tried to do anything that was as hard as the task of working the pick.
Aceveda returned with a tube and tossed it at her. Eliza caught it.
“Rub some of that on your arm where it hurts,” Aceveda said.
“Is this some kind of special pain ointment?” Eliza asked, looking at the little print on the back of the tube.
“Yes,” Aceveda replied. “It’s Bengay.”
Eliza turned the tube over. Sure enough, there was the logo. It looked ancient.
“This is so old it doesn’t have an expiration date on it,” Eliza said.
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Aceveda replied. “Do you want to use it or not?”
Eliza squeezed some of the ointment onto her fingers and began to rub it into her arm.
“Good, let’s try again,” Aceveda said. “Pick it up, prime it like I showed you, and start.”
Eliza sighed and reached for the umbrella. “As long as this takes,” she said, “I’ll be under attack from Tena and Dominic.”
“And any other ghosts who might have an interest in what you’re trying to do,” Aceveda said. “All the more reason to learn how to do it quickly. There’s a good chance that all of the activity in the house is because of that broken legend shelf, so the sooner you fix it, the better.”
“I haven’t even made it through once,” Eliza replied.
“Once you get it down, repetition will help cement the process in your brain.”
“Granger and Robert will be toast by the time I get through,” Eliza said, trying to imagine performing the same steps on the wall in the attic at Pitmon House.
The stick came down, whacking at her fingers. “Stop being negative! I have something that will help them, but you need to concentrate on your responsibility in this endeavor!”
“Hitting me doesn’t help with the pain!” Eliza said.
“And stop being afraid,” Aceveda shot back.
“I am not afraid!” Eliza replied.
“You are, and it’s holding you back. We’re not going to make any progress until you’re unafraid of my stick. I can see right now you’re fearful I might hit you again.”
“Who wouldn’t be?”
“I’m going to hit you hard with it right when you’re at the most delicate stage of the lock picking. It’ll surprise you, and it will hurt.”
“I don’t see how that can possibly help!”
Aceveda sighed again. “Successfully using that pick requires concentration to the exclusion of all else. Not only do you know that I will hit you, you have to live with the knowledge that it’s coming. If you can’t do it here, with me and my little stick, you’ll never do it at Pitmon House. Now insert that pick correctly and let’s get on with it!”
Eliza positioned the tip of the umbrella at a brick in the wall, and slipped into the River. She concentrated on the brick, repeating a mantra in her mind that Aceveda had taught her. The tip of the rod slipped into the brick as though she was inserting a hot knife into butter. The novelty of it had stunned her at first; this, however, was the eighth or ninth time she’d tried, and the sudden malleability of the stone was losing its wonder. That’s probably a good thing, she thought, considering what Aceveda just told me. Forget about everything else, and try to sense what’s going on with the tips of the pick.
Trying to not think about anything else caused the pick to slip in her hands. She heard Aceveda sigh.
“I’m going to call Granger,” Aceveda said. “You’re going to have to stay another
night.”
Chapter Seventeen
Robert picked her up the next morning, and they made their way back to Madison. He asked how things had gone.
“Pretty well,” Eliza replied. “I think that if I can remember everything, it might work.”
“What’s the general gist of it?” he asked.
“You two try to keep Tena and Dominic off me while I crack into the wall.”
“So there is a way to penetrate a legend shelf?” he asked.
“I can’t talk about that.”
“Sounds like there is.”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“Hmm.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“Well, you crack it, what then?” Robert asked.
“If I’m successful, it should negate the legend shelf’s boundary, and we’ll all be able to penetrate the wall.”
“We’ll want to bring sledgehammers,” Robert said.
“I guess,” Eliza replied. “Yeah, that makes sense. There was no other way into that room.”
“So Tena and Dominic,” Robert said. “We’re supposed to keep them focused on us while you work? I’m not so sure how well that will go. We saw what Dominic did to Rachel.”
“Have you seen her?”
“We went by the hospital last night,” he replied. “She’s the same. Not in the best of spirits.”
“The woman gave me something for you and your dad,” Eliza said. “It’s a protection that’s supposed to help with the pressure. She said it might help against Tena and Dominic, too. She thought it would protect you long enough for me to complete the…”
She stopped. How much should she tell Robert? She’d sworn an oath to Aceveda, and she didn’t want to break it, but it seemed obvious what they were attempting.
“…to complete what I have to do.”
“Ah,” Robert said. She knew he observed the evasion.
“We’ll have to get up there, physically, this time,” Eliza said. “We’ll need a route.”
The Haunting of Pitmon House Page 18
