The Dark Secret of Weatherend

by John Bellairs

  Suddenly Anthony noticed something attached to Borkman's waistcoat. Strung between the slitlike pockets of the garment was a tarnished gold chain with a large, old-fashioned gold watch dangling from the end. But it was the crystal of the watch that fascinated Anthony; it had a crack in it that ran from the center of the dial up through the part of the glass that covered the number 12.

  They had found the crack of noon.

  "Miss Eells, look!" Anthony yelled, frantically stabbing his finger at the watch with the cracked crystal. "It's the crack of noon! It has to be!"

  Miss Eells rushed forward. She handed the flashlight to Anthony, gripped the edge of the coffin, and peered in. "You're right! There's no doubt about it. Anthony, you're a genius."

  Miss Eells reached out and picked up the watch. She held it gingerly and turned it around. Anthony was fascinated by the macabre scene, and he began to notice small details of the corpse that lay before him: the embroidered roses on the rotting, faded vest, the gilded elk's tooth that hung from one end of the watch chain, the bone that was missing from the ring finger of Borkman's left hand. That's weird, thought Anthony. I wonder what happened to it? He had an overpowering desire to reach out and rub his fingertips over the bony hand. He had never been near a real human skeleton before, and he wondered what the bones would feel like...

  Anthony's thoughts were interrupted by Miss Eells's voice: "Anthony," she said, "I want you to take the flashlight and go back to the tool bag. Inside it you'll find my purse, and somewhere there ought to be a nail file. Let's see if we can get the crystal off the top of this watch. And hurry, please!"

  Without a word Anthony turned and started walking back into the darkness. He found the slouching leather satchel, and plunging his hand inside, he came up with Miss Eells's battered leather purse. In the midst of loose change, keys, coils of picture wire, plastic number puzzles, and inhalers, he dug out the nail file. Then he turned around and hurried back to her.

  "Hold the light steady," she said when Anthony had handed her the file.

  He did as he was told. The crystal was embedded in a gold rim that was fitted to the watchcase. A hairline crack showed where the two parts were joined. Holding the watch tightly in her left hand, she poked at the crack with the point of the file.

  "The clue says Pam under the crack of noon," muttered Miss Eells as she struggled with the file. "I haven't the slightest idea what pam is, but it ought to be under here."

  Anthony said nothing. He was becoming more and more jittery as the noises from outside—the muffled rumblings and the roar of wind—grew louder. Meanwhile Miss Eells was getting nowhere in her attempt to pry the watch open. Again and again she stabbed at the crack and tried to force the point of the file into it. But it couldn't be done. Anthony could feel blind panic rising inside him. But in spite of his fear he was seized again by the strange urge to reach out and put his hand on Borkman's finger bones. He wanted to touch the place where the missing finger bone had fitted to the rest of the hand. While he still held the flashlight steady in his left hand his right hand began to creep out toward the skeleton fingers.

  Suddenly Miss Eells made a discovery. Dropping the file, she twisted the gold rim with her fingers. The rim began to move.

  "It unscrews!" Miss Eells exclaimed. "What a nitwit I was!" With a few quick twists of the wrist Miss Eells had removed the crystal. Using the nail file, she began to pry the enameled face lose. While she worked on feverishly Anthony's hand crept forward.

  After a few good twists Miss Eells had worked the watch's face free. She wrenched off the hands, ripped off the face, and peered underneath. Inside the body of the watch, instead of wheels and springs, she found a crumpled playing card—the jack of clubs.

  "Anthony, look at this!" Miss Eells cried. But at that point Anthony's creeping hand had reached the finger with the missing joint. And when his finger touched the place where Borkman's lost finger bone had been, everything changed. The stone building rocked, as if it had been hit by the force of a powerful explosion. Anthony found that he was paralyzed, frozen in place, with his hand touching the skeleton fingers. Miss Eells couldn't move either but stood stiffly with the watch case in her hand. Her head was turned slightly, and she was staring at a figure that had suddenly appeared at the head of the coffin.

  It was a man wrapped in a cloak so dazzlingly dark that it seemed to burn a hole in the gloomy blackness of the chamber. The face of the figure was lit by a wavering green light. It was a cruel, cold face with a heartless, mocking smile on its lips. It was the face of the creature called Anders Borkman.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  "Who has dared to summon me in the midst of my most important work? Who has laid violent hands on the place from which I sprang?"

  The green-lit face seemed to hover, bodiless, in the dark. Borkman looked from Miss Eells to Anthony and back again. In spite of the arrogant, mocking expression on his face he seemed strangely uncertain. But as he continued to gaze at Miss Eells his expression changed. The uncertainty vanished, and in its place came cold, venomous rage.

  "You contemptible old hag!" he snarled, and he began to move toward her. "Haven't I given you an idea of what happens to those who try to interfere with my father's plans? I was called into being to complete my father's greatest design. And I have been faithful. The final spell is at work; the apocalyptic storm is loosed upon the world. Nothing can stop it. Nothing! But why in the midst of my incantations have I received a summons? Answer me!"

  Miss Eells continued to stare, glassy-eyed. She held the watch case up before her, and the chain, pulled taut, was still hooked to the fabric of the dead man's vest. Anders Borkman raised his hand, and Miss Eells began to speak. Her voice was dreamy and lifeless, almost like a recording.

  "We came here because of the clues in your father's diary. We hoped that we might find something that we could use to stop the storm you have started."

  Anders Borkman laughed loudly, unpleasantly. "You really are a fool," he said, gazing steadily at Miss Eells. "My father had no desire to stop his plan from being carried out. He would never have left anything that would stop the storm. You have come up here for nothing. Give me the thing you have taken, and I will show you what a mistake you have made. Give it to me! Now!"

  These last words were said in a harsh, commanding tone. Stiffly Miss Eells held out her hand, and Borkman grabbed the watch case from her. He glanced down at the crumpled playing card, and the uncertain look returned to his face. He seemed bewildered, almost as if he had never seen a playing card before. Now he reached out and plucked with his fingertips at the edge of the piece of stiff, crinkled cardboard, Slowly he eased it upward. Aha! Another surprise! There was something under the card. A small glass tube about two inches long. It was capped at both ends with silver, and there was raised lettering on the caps. Inside the glass was a dark reddish substance.

  Borkman let the playing card drop. It fluttered to the floor. With his index finger and thumb he reached into the watch case and picked up the tube...

  And then something totally unexpected happened. Long shafts of red light shot out of the glass. Lurid rays jabbed in all directions, splashing bloody color over the walls and floor of the chamber and the staring skull of the corpse in the coffin. Still clutching the tube, Borkman dropped the watch case and staggered backward. He bumped into one of the tall candlesticks, and it fell over with a loud, echoing clatter. Then one sudden, dazzlingly strong beam flung upward from the tube. It was like a long, phosphorescent crimson spike, and it struck Anders Borkman full in the face. He screamed horribly, his red-lit face a mask of agony and terror. Then a blinding white flash, like a phosphorous bomb, went off in the room, followed by a dull boom! Miss Eells and Anthony fell to the floor. They were no longer paralyzed now—they were awake and aware and terrified out of their minds. They closed their eyes and covered their ears with their hands as flashes and explosions rocked the room.

  Finally there was silence. Opening his eyes, Anthony peered out int
o the dark chamber. He could hardly see anything. Odd discs of pale red danced before him in the dazzling dark air. The flashlight lay nearby, and he groped until he found it and then turned it on.

  Stumbling to his feet, Anthony played the beam around. J. K. Borkman still lay in his coffin, and Miss Eells was kneeling and crying with her hands over her face, but she did not seem to be hurt. Anthony looked toward the candlestick that had fallen. Near it lay a crumpled black cloak. And across the floor, in a twisting, snaky pattern, wound a trail of grayish-white dust.

  Miss Eells took her hands away from her face and peered blearily about. "What... what on earth...?" she muttered thickly. The steady beam of Anthony's flashlight still rested on the trail of dust, and suddenly Miss Eells understood. "Dust thou art," she said in a solemn voice. "And unto dust thou shalt return!"

  Anthony was still so shaken up that he was having trouble understanding what had happened. "He... he's dead, isn't he?" he said in a dull voice. "The... the widget in the watch case... it... it..."

  "It finished him," said Miss Eells grimly. "He didn't think that anything in the world could stop him, but he was wrong. What in heaven's name do you suppose that tube was?"

  "I dunno," said Anthony, looking around. "Maybe it's on the floor somewheres. Let's look and see."

  They searched everywhere—under the folds of Anders Borkman's cloak, under the coffin, and in all the corners of the ugly old stone room. But the tube had vanished.

  Miss Eells stood totally still, listening. Her eyes shone, and a triumphant grin spread over her face. "Anthony!" she exclaimed. "Listen, the wind has stopped. There's no thunder. The storm is over!"

  Anthony and Miss Eells stared at each other in wonder for a few seconds. Then, silently, they began collecting their things, and slowly they climbed the ladder. On the doorstep of the mausoleum they paused to gaze at the scene before them. The ice-covered snow in the graveyard had turned to slush, and a warm, springlike breeze was blowing. The sky was clearing fast. Stars were showing through torn holes in the clouds, and as Anthony and Miss Eells stood watching, the moon suddenly appeared, throwing a long silvery beam upon the statue of St. Boniface that stood on the arch at the entrance to the cemetery. His upraised hand seemed to bless the world and say that—after all the horrors—things were well again.

  "Wow!" said Anthony softly. "We did it, didn't we?"

  Miss Eells smiled wryly. "Well, something did it, that's for sure. Let's get out of this place." She paused and grinned. "Hmm... I wonder if those nuns over at St. Scholastica's would put us up for the night?"

  Anthony and Miss Eells made their way down the stone steps that led to the valley below. It was easier going this time, because it was not icy, just wet. They went back to the building where the cop had left them, and, after pounding on the door a bit, managed to wake a nun, who let them in. Miss Eells told her that their car had gotten stalled in the storm, and wondered if they could stay the night. The nuns were very kind; they fixed a late supper of roast beef and potato salad, and gave them warm beds to sleep in.

  The next morning the two travelers woke up early and slipped silently out of the building. They found a public phone booth, called a cab, and went to the Hotel Duluth. Since they had reserved a room there, Miss Eells figured that they might as well use it to take baths and figure out what to do next. In the lobby of the hotel they ran into Mr. Johnson.

  "Hi there!" he said, waving. "How're you guys? Whatcha doin' here, huh? How's your sister? Is she any better?"

  Miss Eells had to think fast. "She's, uh... fine. It was a false alarm. So we, uh, we thought we'd come down to the hotel here and not bother the nuns any longer. Oh, by the way, I owe you money for bringing us up here." She fumbled in her purse.

  Mr. Johnson grinned. "Aw, forget it. I got my truck offa the sidewalk last night, only it's kinda bunged up. It'll hafta stay here in the shop for a while. So I rented a pickup. I'm gonna drive over an' see my sister in Superior this mornin' an' then I'm hittin' the road fer home. You guys like a ride back, wouldja?"

  This was really too good to be true. Miss Eells smiled delightedly and said that yes, of course, they'd love to have a ride back, at least as far as Eau Claire. So off Mr. Johnson went, cheerfully whistling "Yon Yonson." He would be back a little later to pick them up.

  After he left, Miss Eells went to the front desk of the hotel and bought a newspaper so she could read about the storm. Then she and Anthony went to the dining room and gorged themselves on blueberry muffins, scrambled eggs, and coffee. Miss Eells was in a wonderful mood. She chattered a lot, spilled coffee, and read aloud the newspaper reports of the wild snowstorm that had raged across a large part of Minnesota and Wisconsin on the previous night. But Anthony was silent and moody. Now that the awful crisis was past, he focused on an immediate problem. In order to help Miss Eells, he had run away from home, and his mother was likely to set some kind of Olympic world's record for ranting and raving. What kind of punishment would she give him? Would he have to quit his job at the library? Would his parents drag Miss Eells into court and charge her with kidnapping? And amid all this brooding Anthony found himself thinking about Emerson Eells. What had happened to him? The ghost, or whatever it was that had pretended to be Emerson, was gone. But the real Emerson still had not materialized. Where was he? Anthony looked across at Miss Eells. She was buttering a piece of toast and leafing through the newspaper. She was not acting like somebody who was getting ready to put a black mourning band on her arm.

  "Miss Eells," said Anthony suddenly, leaning across the table and poking his friend's arm.

  "Yes, Anthony? What is it?"

  "I was just wondering. I mean, what do you think happened to Emerson? We haven't seen him since he—"

  Miss Eells cut Anthony off with a wave of her hand. She smiled knowingly. "If I were you, Tony, I wouldn't worry about Emerson. I think it's likely that Anders Borkman imprisoned him when we tried to invade his domain. Borkman had lots of chances to kill us back at the estate, but he didn't. I don't know why; maybe there was some rule that he couldn't kill anyone while achieving his grand goal. At any rate, now that Borkman is dead, all the knotted and twisted webs of sorcery that he wove will come untied. At least that is what I'm hoping. You see, Emerson explained this spell-casting business to me once. He said—"

  A busboy appeared behind Miss Eells. "Is your name Myra Eells, ma'am?" he asked politely.

  Miss Eells turned and looked at him. "Yes, it is. Why?"

  "There's a phone call for you. You can take it at the front desk."

  Miss Eells was startled for a second, but then she grinned and winked at Anthony. "Betcha a dollar it's Emerson," she said gaily, as she jumped up. "Betcha a hot fudge sundae at the Blue Moon ice cream stand."

  Anthony shook his head. "No bet," he said.

  A few minutes later Miss Eells was back. Breathlessly she reported that the call was indeed from Emerson. He was calling from her house, where she had left a note for him. He had been imprisoned at Weatherend ever since the day of the bungled break-in, but when Borkman was destroyed, Emerson found himself standing in front of the mansion. He took off running down the road and then heard this terrific explosion from the direction of the cedar grove. The four statues were being blown to glory. He made his way down to the gate and found his truck there. So, he just hopped in, started the motor, and zoomed off to Hoosac.

  "Darnedest story I ever heard," said Miss Eells, shaking her head. "If I hadn't seen what I've seen in the last few months, I'd have called my dear sweet brother a liar." She sighed resignedly and sipped at her cold coffee. "He's waiting at my place, and do you know what he's doing to kill time while we drive back? He's going to clean my house! Says it's a filthy, unsanitary mess. Imagine—my own brother!"

  After they had finished breakfast, Miss Eells went out to the front desk of the hotel to ask about the room she had reserved. It turned out that it had been given to someone else, who needed shelter from the storm. But that was okay with Miss Eells
, since it meant that she didn't have to pay for it. Now there was nothing for her and Anthony to do but sit in the lobby and wait for Mr. Johnson to show up. They didn't have long to wait. Soon he came loping in, still whistling his favorite tune, and off they went in his pickup truck. When they got to Eau Claire, Miss Eells borrowed a car from him, and she and Anthony drove back to Hoosac. On the way home they put together a story about Anthony's disappearance. It went this way: Anthony had had an attack of amnesia, and he had wandered out of the house in the middle of the night. Somehow he caught a train to Minneapolis, and Miss Eells had run into him up there during the snowstorm while she was doing some Christmas shopping. He had been hiding in a hotel lobby, and he had seemed thoroughly confused. This was not terribly believable, but it was the best they could whip up on short notice. As it turned out, the story was gratefully accepted by his parents. His mother thought Anthony had left home because of the fight they had had, and she had been feeling guilty and worried ever since his disappearance. She was so glad to see him that she accepted this ridiculous story without any questions, and Anthony got lots of hugs and several big sloppy wet kisses. And of course his dad and Keith were very happy to see him home, safe and sound. So that problem was solved.

  On the evening after his return Anthony got a phone call from Miss Eells. To his astonishment she told him that she had been reinstated at the library! When he had recovered from the shock, he asked her how that had happened.

  "I'll tell you later," said Miss Eells smugly. "There are several secrets that need to be unraveled, and tales that need to be told. But first Emerson has got to go up to Minneapolis to do some research. So here's what we'll do: if the weather obliges us and turns cold again, we'll meet in three days' time and have an ice skating party on Lake Hoosac. How about Saturday afternoon at two o'clock? Of course, I'll be seeing you before that at the library, but let's not talk about the reinstatement and all the other stuff you're wondering about. Ask me no questions until three days from now," she teased.