by R L Delaney
"Hands in the air… all three of you." A gruff voice behind them echoed through the silence of the morning. They turned and stared into the pockmarked face of Officer Conan Frost. Justin knew the man quite well, as he had often spoken to him on his visits to Uncle Harry at the police station.
"Mr. Frost," Justin cried out. "Thank God… It's good to see you."
But Frost did not share Justin's joy. "I said… hand's up!" The policeman was standing behind them at the edge of the porch and was holding a service pistol in his trembling hands.
"Good morning to you too," Brother Perpetiël said as he offered the policeman a gentle smile. Frost, dressed in his official uniform blinked both eyes and swayed his gun back and forth. "Last warning. Hands up. Don't play games with me."
Amy's arms flew up as she let out a little yelp. Justin slowly raised his arms as well, but seemed less impressed as he narrowed his eyes and gave the policeman a foul look. "What's wrong with you, Mr. Frost? You don't have to pull a gun on me, and where is my uncle?" he asked.
"You tell me," Conan Frost replied. "He's on the run."
While he now kept his gun trained on Justin, he glanced at the massive body of Brother Perpetiël who still had not raised his arms. His face still carried a gentle smile, but he kept both of his hands behind his back, almost as if he was an amused onlooker. "You too, big man," Frost hissed. "Hands in the air. Now!"
Brother Perpetiël shook his head and smacked his lips. "You don't seem like the violent type. Why don't you put that gun away before somebody gets hurt. Maybe we can talk about this as civilized, mature people."
"I warn you," Officer Frost said, his voice now a pitch higher. "I-I am absolutely reckless. Don't you ch-challenge me." As he said it he took a step backwards on the porch, causing Brother Perpetiël to call out, "Careful now. If you don't watch out you'll fall off the porch."
The calm words of the monk made Frost even more nervous, and he now aimed his pistol at Brother Perpetiël. "Last warning… Put those hans in the air. I will not hesitate… I will shoot."
Brother Perpetiël still did not seem impressed and stayed just as he was. "What is it you want? Maybe we can help you."
Frost licked his lips and pointed his gun again at Justin and nodded with his head in his direction. "It's him I want." He mumbled. "I don't want you, big man. You are free to go."
"I am not going anywhere without young Justin," Brother Perpetiël said, his voice calm and confident. Why don't you just lower that gun."
Justin could tell the officer was just about to fall apart.
"I can't," he mumbled. "Captain Devonshire has ordered the arrest of Justin Ames."
"Has he now?" Brother Perpetiël raised his brows. "Why would he do that?"
Frost shrugged his shoulders while he was now holding the pistol with both hands in an effort to steady the shaking of his hand. "I am not at liberty to say."
"I don't think you really know," Brother Perpetiël went on, apparently unafraid of the pistol. "Would you like us to explain to you what is happening?"
Frost shook his head. "No, I don't care. Just want to do my job. We arrested the parents too, so now it's Justin's turn."
"You arrested my parents?" Justin cried out the words and he took a step forward. "Why…? They wouldn't even hurt a fly."
Frost stepped back some more and hissed, "Steady now, young man. If you give yourself up and come in with me, I will let your friends go…"
Justin turned and stared with fearful eyes at Brother Perpetiël. "They have arrested my parents… They are in danger."
Brother Perpetiël shook his head. "I don't think so, Justin. Your parents hardly play a role in any of this. It's really you they are after."
"Give me your hands, Justin Ames," Frost croaked, "So I can put the cuffs on you."
Brother Perpetiël nodded. "Go ahead, Justin. Give the man what he is asking for."
Justin stared at the monk. "What? They will deliver me to Sternfoot and poison me with their horrible Deastrotrax."
Brother Perpetiël shook his head. "Trust me, Justin… Just give the policeman your hands."
For a moment Justin hesitated, but when he saw the confident expression in the monk's eyes he nodded. "I don't understand, but I'll do as you say."
Officer Frost heaved a small sigh of relief and cast the monk a grateful glance for being so cooperative. While he kept his pistol trained on the three friends, he took the handcuffs off his belt and handed them to Justin, while keeping a safe distance. "You put them on yourself," he mumbled. "I don't trust any of you. Just slide them around your wrists, and once they are in position, you click them closed. It's as simple as that."
Justin looked one more time at Brother Perpetiël. He expected the monk to make some sort of karate move, or to step forward, point his finger at the officer and yell some heavenly phrases that would send the policeman flying, but nothing happened. Instead the monk said in soft tones, "Come on, Justin… We don't have all day."
Justin nodded, although he really didn't understand what Brother Perpetiël was up to. He had seen so many strange things these days, but after he had been anointed with the Elixir, he knew faith and trust were the name of the game. Surely, Brother Perpetiël knew what he was doing and Justin placed the cuffs around his wrists, and closed them shut. When Constable Frost heard the trusted click of the closing lock, he lowered his gun. "All right," he said as he turned to Brother Perpetiël, his face now carrying a smug, confident expression, "You two go… Hurry up, before I change my mind. Make yourselves scarce while I bring this young man in."
As he said it, he took hold of Justin's arm in an effort of pull him down the porch, but the moment his fingers touched him, the handcuffs slid off and landed with a loud bang on Uncle Harry's front porch.
Constable Frost looked up, anger flashing over his face. "You fooled me," he hissed." He took a step backward, but forgetting he was at the edge of the porch he lost his balance and tumbled backwards. He cried out in fear and landed right in the middle of Uncle Harry's favorite rose bush.
Brother Perpetiël sprang into action, and not even a second later knelt down next to the policeman and gave him his hand. "Come on… give me your hand."
But Frost didn't trust it, and while staring with panicky eyes at the monk he searched again for his gun.
Brother Perpetiël shook his head. "Not that gun again. We've been through that already."
"You tricked me," Frost stammered.
"No, we didn't," Brother Perpetiël replied. "You fell."
Without Frost's permission Brother Perpetiël took Frost by the shoulder and pulled him up out of the rosebush. "Still want to use those cuffs?" Brother Perpetiël asked.
"Yes, I do," Frost almost shouted it out and jumped back up onto the porch and glared at Justin. "Pick them up…," he ordered Justin, "… and hand them to me. This time I'll do it myself," After Justin had handed him the handcuffs, Frost grabbed Justin's hands, slid the cuffs around his wrists a second time, and pushed them closed.
The cuffs made the same reassuring click again.
Brother Perpetiël cleared his throat. "Are they working now?"
Frost turned and glared at the giant monk. "Yes, they are. Now get out of the way."
He grabbed Justin's arm again.
The handcuffs opened up again and slid off once more. This time they landed on the edge of the porch, and before Frost could grab them, they slid off into the same rosebush Frost had fallen in himself.
"Oops," Brother Perpetiël said, while shaking his head. "Doesn't seem like very good handcuffs. I suppose the police suffers from the budget cuts as well."
"I-eh-I…" Constable Frost face turned white. "I… don't understand."
"But I do," Brother Perpetiël said, and placed his hand on the confused policeman's shoulder. "Listen Officer Frost, we don't mean you any harm, and we want to cooperate with you, but can I ask you a question?"
Frost broke out into a sweat, and grabbed his pistol again. Brother Per
petiël shook his head once again. "Come on Officer Frost. You can do better than that. That pistol isn't going to do you any good. You know what the Good Book says about that?"
Frost moved his lips, but no sound came as he stared with a horrified expression at Brother Perpetiël.
"I’ll tell you what it says," the monk answered as he licked his lips. "And allow me to paraphrase it somewhat… 'Some trust in chariots and some in horses, yet others trust in their pistols, but we will trust in the name of the King of Heaven." *
As he said it, the officer let out a painful scream. "Owwow… It's hot. That hurts." He instantly dropped the weapon to the ground where it landed right next to the handcuffs in the rosebush, and stared with fearful eyes at the monk. "It's magic," he whispered as he crossed himself. "Mother Mary, be merciful unto me."
Brother Perpetiël chuckled. "It's not magic at all, Officer, but I will tell you a secret, the power that is about to break the curse of the Shadow Walkers is greater than Mother Mary."
"I-I don't understand."
"Of course you don't," Brother Perpetiël replied. "Now, can I ask you my question?"
Frost bit his lower lip and gave the monk a small nod.
"Officer…," Brother Perpetiël began, "… are you absolutely sure you are on the right side?"
The man narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean? Of course I am on the right side."
Brother Perpetiël squeezed his chin. "What if we are the good guys, and the ones that are now running the police station are the bad guys?" He narrowed his eyes and peered at Frost.
"My Captain is a good man," Frost answered. "Of course I am on the right side."
Brother Perpetiël nodded. "I believe your Captain is a good man indeed. But the ones who are now pulling the strings and have influenced him, are not. May I tell you what's going on in Dewsbury?"
Officer Frost seemed undecided for a moment.
"You really think Detective Ames is a crook?" Brother Perpetiël asked.
"Not really," Frost mumbled. "He's been at my home for my wife’s birthday. He has played with my children, and we have been on Dewsbury's soccer team together. I have known him for many years and there was never anything wrong with him. Still…" his voice trailed off, "… one can never know for sure, and who am I to doubt my Captain's orders?"
"Maybe it's not so much your Captain," Brother Perpetiël said in a soft voice, "but what about somebody like… Richard Sternfoot?"
Frost's eyes darkened. "He's weird. That man gives me the creeps whenever he comes into the office. He always reeks like strong chemicals, and when he looks at you it feels like being doused in a bucket of ice water."
"It's time we talk," Brother Perpetiël said. "You need to know what's going on in this town."
Frost curled his lips. At last he looked up. "All right, I will listen. But this is highly unorthodox, and if I don't like what I hear, I will still bring in Justin Ames."
"No problem," Brother Perpetiël said while he winked at Justin. "You can do as you please." He placed his hand on Frost's arm and pointed in the direction of Father Gálvez' house. "Now if you don't mind leaving your stake-out, come with us. We shouldn't be talking here on the street. Let's talk things over at the house of Father Gálvez."
"Father Gálvez?" Frost's eyes widened. "He's my priest."
"I know," Brother Perpetiël replied with a chuckle. "He'll be happy to see you."
"How did you know he's my priest?" Frost asked as he tilted his head.
Brother Perpetiël wanted to say something, but Justin answered for him, happy that Officer Frost was no longer pointing the pistol at him. "The Guardians of the Tome know lots of things," Justin chuckled.
When they beheld the startled expression on the officer’s face they all had to laugh, and Justin knelt down to pick up the gun and the handcuffs. He handed them to Frost. "I believe these belong to you."
Chapter Six
"Would you mind passing the peanut butter, Lilly?" Leopold Witherspoon asked his daughter Lilly, without looking up from his newspaper. If he had not been so engrossed in the article he was reading he would have spotted the dark, murmuring scowl on Lilly's face, but now all he saw was the fine print of the Dewsbury Clarion.
The Witherspoon’s were sitting around the breakfast table in their remodeled kitchen. As was the custom, father Witherspoon sat at the head of the table and was working his way through the newspaper. His wife Belinda, well-known in the community for organizing tea parties for Dewsbury's cream of the crop, sat at the opposite end of the table, stirring her tea with a bored expression on her face and nibbling at her 'appetite control' cracker. Lilly Witherspoon sat in the middle and looked like something the cat dragged in.
"It's really bad," Leopold said while he shook his head. He was still looking at the newspaper, but was now holding out his hand for Lilly to put the peanut butter into it. "This is terrible."
"What is, Leopold?" Belinda asked, while she used her silver teaspoon to fish a few crumbs out of her cup of Earl Grey tea.
Leopold looked up at his wife, while he curled his lips. "The news, honey. The news is terrible. It seems everybody is corrupt these days." He lowered the newspaper and sighed. "It says here, there's a serious problem with drugs in town which has led to several killings and local detective Harrison Ames seems to be spearheading the local Mafia. I had not ever suspected such a thing was possible in Dewsbury." As he said the name Harrison, he started to drum with his fingers on the table. "And I always thought that detective was such a decent man."
Belinda shrugged her shoulders, let out a yawn, and unsuccessfully continued her hunt for the floating cracker-crumbs in her tea.
Leopold stared at his wife for a second and wanted to say something more, but realizing his wife was not interested, he turned his attention back to his daughter. "Honey, I was asking for the peanut butter?"
Lilly Witherspoon glared at her Dad. "I am not your honey. Just get the stuff yourself if you need it that bad."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Lilly said with a scowl. "And just for the record, you are not any better than that detective. You and Mom are just horrible."
"What did you say?" Leopold's lips began to tremble. The newspaper slid out of his hand and dropped on the head of their brown German shepherd dog who usually stationed himself near the table in an effort to catch crumbs.
The expression on Leopold's face had changed from unbelief to horror and he stared with wide, dark eyes at his seventeen-year-old daughter.
Lilly's eyes flashed, and with an obstinate move of her hand she threw her long, blond curls on her back. Then she wrinkled her nose and hissed, "I am sick and tired of having to live with the two of you. It's always the same: 'Lilly, pass me the peanut butter. Lilly, clean up your room. Lilly be home on time…' I don't think I can stand living here much longer."
"B-But honey…" Belinda's voice broke. She had stiffened and her face had become white as a sheet. "… S-Since when do you think that way? I- I don't understand."
"Of course you don't," Lilly snapped back. "All you are interested in are your fancy clothes and your stupid tea parties. You are putting up a nice front, but underneath that front it's a different story."
Leopold Witherspoon felt anger coursing through his body. He leaned back in his chair and scratched his silvery hair. "What's gotten into you, Lilly? Are you on drugs too? You never talk like that."
Lilly curled her lips. "Of course I am not on drugs. I finally feel the courage to speak the truth."
Leopold leaned over to his wife and whispered, "She's drunk, or is she on some sort of medication?"
But before she could answer, Lilly cried out, "Of course I am not drunk. I don't drink, unlike the two of you."
Belinda looked up. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Lilly scowled as she shook her head. "Did you really think I didn't know about your secret drinking, mother… And you, father, she turned to Leopold, "It's common knowledge what you do after work."
"Or what?" Lilly challenged her dad with fiery eyes. "I do as I want, and nobody is going to stop me." After she said it she got up from the table and pushed her chair with such force that it tumbled over and landed with a crash on the floor.
"Please, sweetheart," Belinda cried out, 'let's talk about it."
Just before Lilly stepped out the door she turned around and said, "No, mother. You've had your chance. Now it's too late. Thankfully, the Desastrotrax has opened my eyes."
She slammed the door shut and ran up the stairs.
"Desastrotrax ?" Leopold stared at his wife. "What is that?"
"I-I am not sure," Belinda said as a sob escaped her mouth. "I believe it's some sort of new medication that the local health agencies have handed out at school." Now her tears flowed freely. "Oh, Leopold, I told you we needed counseling years ago. Where did we go wrong?"
Things were not much better in Billy Bratmeyer's place.
Billy got into an enormous argument with his mother about schoolwork. At first his dad sided with him, but when Billy began to call him names as well and kicked a hole in the door with his boots, the confusion in the Bratmeyer home was complete, and everyone fought everyone.
At last, Mr. Bratmeyer ended up accusing his wife of being a spendthrift who wasted his precious earnings on rubbish, Mrs. Bratmeyer threatened to hit her husband with the frying pan, and Billy, after loudly letting out a string of terrible curses, kicked in another door and disappeared to his room. His last words were a threat that he was about to move out. He had a new friend now, who would take care of him, called Sternfoot. He slammed the door to his bedroom with such force that the crystal reindeer father Bratmeyer had bought for his wife on one of his business trips, fell off the counter and crashed onto the marble floor of their dining room into a thousand pieces. It was enough for Mrs. Bratmeyer to break out into hysterical weeping. Mr.Bratmeyer did what he always did when things got too uncomfortable. He just left.