It was nearly pitch black in the room. Slivers of moonlight fell across Wyatt’s face as he lay atop his bed, wondering if he were already going mad. He had never thought madness contagious, but as the screams continued, that began to change. As thick as the walls were, it was difficult to imagine the screaming coming from anywhere else but the room in which Wyatt occupied. Alone.
He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the pillow over his face, but still he could hear it. It must be in my head, he thought. It wasn’t the first time the voices in his head made themselves known, but before it had been merely to shout of Wyatt’s failings. Death and shadows. Shadows and death. He shivered. But no, the screams weren’t coming from his head. His own madness was far more direct.
The screams came and went, only to return, renewed and far louder than before. Wyatt sat up and tried to discern some clue in the shadow-plagued room. But he saw nothing to give face to the blood-curdling shrieks, and all he felt was fear. It was the darkness that stole into his chest and made it difficult to breathe. The screaming was a mere annoyance. He thought for a moment to return the din, and begin shouting himself, but then it stopped. Abruptly, a silence descended upon him, sitting on the edge of his bed, with only equally silent shadows to keep him company.
He stood and went to the window. Closer to the moonlight. Somehow, he thought it might grant him some needed strength, or at least keep the shadows at bay. He began humming. Nothing with any musical direction, just something to banish the silence. He had thought the screams haunting at first, and then intrusive, but now he wished them to return. He leaned into the wall and slid down to the floor, still humming, still wishing the sun would rise. He had never been afraid of the dark as a child, and it was foolish to think it frightened him now—but it did. To his core, it shook him so soundly, that moving seemed impossible.
“Don’t be such a baby,” he said to himself. “I’m a powerful Druid. The darkness should fear me.” But it didn’t help matters, and he pulled his knees to his chest, finding that he was shaking.
He started to hum again, but another noise arrested his own. He held his breath and quickly assessed the room, looking for movement. If the shadows came now, there would be no place to hide from them. But nothing stirred, and the sound wasn’t the raspy call of demons long forgotten or the eerie screams of some unseen ghost, no doubt haunting the ancient building. It was… music.
Wyatt peeled himself off the wall and lowered himself to his stomach. Whatever the peaceful notes were, it sounded as if it was coming from beneath his bed. It was even darker beneath the piece of furniture, but the longer Wyatt listened, the more he was sure of it. He crawled closer to the black gap below the frame and obnoxiously colored quilt. At the edge, he could hear it more clearly, but it was still too distant to even ascertain whether it was words being sung, some instrument making its craft, or even someone humming with far more melodic skill than he.
Wyatt glanced back to the window and the pure white of the moonlight with longing. Sanctuary. But the music persisted and drew Wyatt with even stronger desire. He squirmed under the bed, just barely fitting, but not without total fear of becoming entrapped. There, tucked into the corner, was a metal grate. And floating up through the duct work from some unseen location, was a beautiful song. There weren’t words, and it wasn’t an instrument that created the notes, but it was certainly more than simple humming.
Wyatt wiggled until he could press his ear to the center of the cool metal. The music drifted up like a gentle breeze and imparted such peace on Wyatt that he thought for a moment he was floating. Or dreaming. Only when it stopped did his reality fall back into place.
“Oh, please don’t stop,” he said to the floor. “That was so much better than the quiet.”
“God?” a voice responded along the same currents that had brought the song.
Wyatt jerked back fast enough to crack his head on the underside of the bed. Then he overcompensated and smacked his face into the grate hard enough to knock his glasses off.
“I’m sorry,” said the small voice. “I didn’t mean to scare you, God. And if I knew it was you, I would have sung something nicer. Did you like it?”
Wyatt found his glasses in the gloom and slapped them aside, sending them skittering out from under the bed. “Yes,” he said to the voice. “I… it helps.”
He heard movement, the sound of moving furniture, and grunts of exertion. Then the voice replied with far more volume and clarity. “Can I ask you something? And promise not to be mad?”
Wyatt nearly recoiled into the bed again. “Julia?” he said, recognizing the voice of the girl who had so thoroughly disciplined him earlier in the day.
“Of course, it’s me, silly, you know that. Are you going to be mad?”
“Mad?” Wyatt said, even more confused. “No...”
“Good.” Julia paused for a moment and then said, “God, why are you in my air vent? That’s not Heaven, is it?”
“God?!” Wyatt said. “No, I’m not God. I’m just Wyatt.” And then with an air of confidence, perhaps as a result of being mistaken for God, added, “Wyatt the Mighty.”
“Oh,” Julia said, clearly disappointed.
“Sorry?”
“It’s okay. I wouldn’t want to go to a dusty vent when I die, anyway.”
“Me neither,” Wyatt said, not knowing what else to offer the disembodied voice of a girl who had spanked him so hard that it still hurt to sit.
“Wyatt?”
“Julia?”
“Why are you in my air vent?”
Wyatt laughed for the first time since coming to Greenwood. “I’m not. I must be in the room right over yours. I’m under my bed.”
“Oh. That’s not a very good hiding place,” she said astutely.
“I’m not hiding,” he protested.
“Good, because under the bed is the first place the Bad Man looks.”
“Bad Man?” he asked.
“Isn’t that why you’re under the bed? He’ll find you, you know.”
Wyatt wanted to shake his head, but there wasn’t room, and no one to see the expression regardless. “I told you, I’m not hiding.”
“It’s okay. But don’t hide under the bed. It just makes him mad. Only Lucy knows how to protect you from the Bad Man. I’ll ask her if she can help you.”
“But I’m not hiding! And who is this Bad Man, anyway? Was that who was screaming?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You didn’t hear it?”
“I was hiding. And in a better place than under my bed,” she said proudly.
“And what’s this Bad Man look like?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him. But Lucy says he’s a monster and you shouldn’t ever look him in the eye.”
“And who’s Lucy?”
“My friend,” she said.
“And Mrs. Devereux?” Wyatt asked without thinking.
“Oh, you’ve met her, too? She’s a mean old witch, isn’t she? Did she spank you, too? Spanking is her favorite thing in the world, I think.”
Wyatt grimaced and felt his face flush. It made him thankful for the shadows. “No, of course not,” he said. “No one spanks Wyatt the Mighty.”
“Is that your real name?”
“Is Julia yours?”
“Uh huh. Julia Maria Ponti. It’s what the Ponti’s call me. But most of the nurses call me Jule the Ghoul. Or Julia Ghoulia. Because I’m fierce. I think.”
Wyatt stifled a laugh. “Well, I am Wyatt the Mighty. I’m a Druid.”
“Nice to meet you mister Druid. I’m a ghoul.” Julia growled and it sounded like she was clawing on her side of the grate.
“I have your bear,” Wyatt said, suddenly remembering the disfigured toy.
“Bearsy! Oh good.”
“That’s a dumb name,” he said before he could stop himself.
“No, it’s not. Wyatt is a dumb name. And Mighty is a dumber name. Bearsy is a good name. It’s what he is.”
“Oh, I didn’t. He jumped,” Julia said matter-of-factly.
“He looks like he’s jumped a few times. And what about the note?”
“He likes jumping. He’s a naughty bear. I wrote the note though. His penmanship is pretty bad. He really just scribbles a lot and says it’s art. I don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s not.”
“I see. Do you want him back?”
“He is my bear,” she said sternly.
“All right, easy. You can have him back.”
“Okay, Wyatt Dumb-name, I have to go cry until I fall asleep. Bye!”
“Wait. What?” Wyatt wasn’t sure if he was more caught off guard by the moniker she had given him or her bold statement about crying. No reply came, but in a few moments, he could hear the soft sounds of sobbing coming from the cool metal grate in the floor under his bed.
The noise brought tears to his own eyes as he thought of all the friends he had left behind. The ones he had failed, and the one’s he had lost. And he thought of Ms. Abagail, the friend he didn’t deserve to have, but the one that refused to leave him. He placed a hand on the grate, laid his head atop it, and let the companionship of the crying girl in the room below his carry him off into sleep.
Chapter Eighteen
WYATT FOUND JULIA the next morning in the corner of the fenced-in yard. He had been forced to apologize to Nurse Bonnie for running off on his arrival, but having done so, was permitted to enjoy the fall sun with some of the other patients in the afternoon.
He half sat half fell near the slight girl picking dandelions that dared grow through the high chain-link fence that surrounded the yard. She looked up at his arrival and grinned.
She held out a single, white-tufted stalk. “Here, this is for you, Dumb-name.”
Wyatt scowled, but accepted the gift. With his other hand, he extended the torn up stuffed bear with the truly dumb name. Julia squealed and snatched in from him, forgetting her fistful of weeds. She hugged it tightly and then propped it against the fence in a sitting position.
“Now, Bearsy, you just sit there with Maria and Courtney. You deserve the rest. You did good bringing a new friend to the club.” She punctuated the statement by patting its head.
“Uh, this is a club?” Wyatt asked doubtfully. Other than Julia and Bearsy he couldn’t see anyone or anything else nearby that would signify a club.
“Uh huh,” Julia said with a sharp nod. “Oh, but where are my manners? You already know Bearsy,” she said gesturing as she spoke. “And this is Maria, Courtney, Daphne, Julius, St. Gerard, Madam Pretty, Bunny, Cutsie, Mr. Tall, and Henry.”
Wyatt stared at the empty fence line that Julia had pointed at as she named off the club members. He ran a hand through his hair. “And what sort of club is this?”
Julia slapped her forehead so hard that she tumbled over backwards. She didn’t bother getting up, and began fanning out her arms and legs as if she were making a snow angel in the patchy grass.
“Julia?” he asked softly when she didn’t immediately respond.
“It’s a secret club.”
“Oh?”
“Of the most secret secrets. So, don’t tell anyone.”
Wyatt smirked. “Okay.”
Julia sat up like she’d been shocked, and turned aggressively toward him, nearly forcing Wyatt over backwards. She snared the collar of his shirt and pulled herself to him until their noses touched. “If you tell anyone,” she said with such venom that Wyatt felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. “I will cut you from your pole to the hole you lied from. Got it?”
Being so close to her face, he could look nowhere else but her eyes. Her pupils were the size of dinners plates and they seemed to burrow into his very consciousness. He could do nothing but nod and concentrate on keeping his bladder from purging. Julia smiled, patted him on the cheek with her free hand, and leaned back into the grass and began fanning her arms and legs again.
“It’s a secret club,” she said, gleefully.
Wyatt just nodded dumbly.
“Of the most secret secrets. So, don’t tell anyone.”
Wyatt swallowed deeply and said with as much sincerity as he could muster, “I won’t, Julia. Promise.”
She sat up again and Wyatt recoiled, falling back onto his elbows. She smiled and nodded. “I know,” she said, sweetly. “That’s why I invited you into the club. Because you’d never hurt us. Right?”
Wyatt gathered himself and sat up, but put an extra foot of space between them. He hoped it would be enough if she came at him again. He nodded and forced an uneasy smile.
“Good,” she said, sharply. “Now, for the induction ceremony!”
Julia leapt to her feet, spun a tight pirouette, and came to a stop with a hand extended toward Wyatt. He didn’t figure he had any other choice, so he took her small hand and stood with her.
“What do I do?” he asked.
“Nothing!” she shouted. “That’s the beauty of the most secret ceremony. It’s a secret!”
“So, I don’t do anything? What do you do?”
“I already did it. Congratulations, Dumb-name, you are now a full member of what no one can talk about. Isn’t it wonderful?”
He nodded again. The more she flitted about like Maia, the easier it became to forget about the brief outburst of…crazy. In fact, as she danced about him, he began to smile, and not just for fear a frown would upset her, but because he truly felt joy. Julia was undoubtedly mad, but being inducted into a club, even a secret one with make-believe members, was a far better reception than he had received upon coming to The Shepherd’s Crook the first time.
“I said, isn’t it wonderful, Dumb-name?” she repeated.
“Yes,” he said with confidence. “It’s very wonderful. Now what does our club do? I don’t suppose it’s a secret, is it?” He flashed her his most winning smile.
“Of course, it’s a secret, but you’re in the club, so I can tell you.” She beckoned for Wyatt to lean close. When he did, she cupped her hands around his ear and whispered, “We save things.”
Wyatt leaned back, wiped at his ear, and said, “Well, I’m all for saving things. I am Wyatt the Mighty, after all, but how do we do it here?”
Julia held up a finger, winked, and darted toward the fence. Reaching it, she crouched, and stealthily approached the rest of the patients on the far side of the yard, keeping close to the fence and the shadows of the flanking pines.
Curious, Wyatt followed suit, happily throwing himself into whatever delusion Julia was having at the moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to share in something like this with another human. As much as he considered Athena his friend, she constantly pushed back against him, and at times, made him feel crazy. Thinking of her now, after how he had left her, nearly broke the magical moment, and it took a beat for him to steel himself. I’ll get back to her, he thought. Eventually. And when I do, I’ll save everyone.
He kept his distance, but continued after the slight girl in the blue and white polka-dotted dress. A pair of patients were sitting at a picnic table, playing chess. Julia halted her advance just short of the table, still hidden in the shadows. A spindly bush that grew through the chain-link obscured her further. Neither of the chess players indicated that they knew of her presence. Wyatt held further back, knowing he was much more conspicuous and not knowing quite what to do.
After a moment, the larger of the two men captured the other’s pawn. He knocked the piece over with his and sent it skittering toward the edge. Like a coiled asp, Julia exploded from her hiding place, pushing off the fence with her feet. She snared the falling pawn out of the air, tucked into a smooth roll, and leapt victoriously to her feet. With a shout of triumph, she set the pawn on the table, swirled her hands over her head, and darted back to the shadows. She raced back to Wyatt.
“Wow, that was a sweet move,” he said when she reached him, breathless with exhilaration.<
br />
She nodded emphatically. “I saved the thing.”
Wyatt grinned. “You’re cra—” he stopped himself, something he rarely did when he had the mind to speak, but he couldn’t call her crazy. Because she wasn’t. No more than he, anyway. “That was cool. But how did you know that would happen?”
Julia shrugged and then tapped her temple with a finger. “My secret power.”
Wyatt’s eyes lit up. “You can see the future?”
She shrugged again. “Can’t you?”
Chapter Nineteen
THE DAY CAME and went just as all those that lived before, and as the moon rose among the stars, Wyatt found himself under his bed, ear pressed to the metal grate. It made being in the dark far less terrifying. Or at least it distracted him from thinking too long on what they hid.
“So how long have you been here, Julia?” he asked once he heard her scurry closer to the opposite side of the grate.
“I don’t know. Forever. Maybe.”
“That’s impossible. Why are you here?”
“Oh, I’m not. I just came to keep Lucy company.”
“Well, what did Lucy do?”
“I don’t know. Something bad, I think. Maybe. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is the secret club. You’re not tired, are you?”
He frowned, a little confused, but wasn’t about to press her. “No, I guess not.”
“Oh, good. Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I like to do secret things at night.”
“Well, I wish we weren’t locked in like prisoners. And guarded. Because that sounds fun.” What he meant to say was that it sounded better than being alone in the dark. If it was quiet for too long he could hear the shadows whisper. It made him long for the comforting whisper of the Mother he had grown to love during his time in the Realms. The dark shadows were far more foreboding, and something told him that they were of Earth in nature. And that seemed too real to consider.
“Well, do you want to save the day? Oh, I mean the night. Do you want to save the night?”
The Druid's Guise: The Complete Trilogy (The Druid's Guise Trilogy) Page 42
