“A punchable face. You know, a face ideal for punching. I mean, I’m not usually moved to violence—”
“No, you move the rest of us to violence,” Andrew added without looking up from his meal. “Just finish eating so we can get on with the day, tough guy.”
* * *
As Will began to cross High Street to enter the gates of Peniel, a familiar tune struck his ear. The melody was blaring from speakers in Perilous Falls Park, a couple of blocks away. There was an insistent beat to the music and every so often he heard a crowd cheer. Will ignored the sound at first. But there was something about the music and the “oohs and aahs” drifting down the block that demanded his attention. He knew his mom was recording a story for her Supernatural Secrets TV show at the park that morning. She had mentioned that she was taking his brother and sister to Peniel for their training and then doing a story on some DJ. She said “amazing things” reportedly happened through the power of his music.
Though Will was running fifteen minutes late for his Use and Care of Relics training, curiosity got the best of him. It’ll only take a few minutes. I can see what all the fuss is about—and check on Mom, Will reasoned. He hightailed it down Main Street until he hit the park.
The music spilling into the street was like audio cotton candy. It was sweet and made him feel warm inside. Where had he heard that tune before? The haunting melody slithered in and out of the pounding remix groove. Was it from some TV show? Did his mom sing it to him when he was little? The heavily female crowd, swaying as one organism, gathered near the bandstand. Arms shot up from the crowd, punctuating the beat. It almost looked choreographed. Will ran alongside the throbbing mob, searching for his mother.
Near the front of the bandstand, he found Deborah Wilder, speaking to the camera, in midsentence.
“—similar to what we’ve seen of his work nationwide and in Europe, DJ Cassian certainly has this crowd in the palm of his hand.”
A tanned man with a coal-black ponytail worked the turntables inside the bandstand. He was huge, like a wrestler, and wore a T-shirt covered by a floor-length leather coat. Light brown sunglasses covered his eyes, but not his dazzling smile or the stubble surrounding it. On either side of the turntables was what might have been the most beautiful cheerleading squad Will had ever laid eyes on. They were covered in shiny, brightly colored outfits, grooving in unison to the music.
Will tore his eyes away and refocused on his mom. She had finished her on-camera read, so Will knew it was okay to approach her.
“Mom! Mom!” he yelled. But Deborah Wilder continued swaying like the rest of the crowd, oblivious to his cries. In frustration, he pushed his way through the sea of people, inching toward her. “Mom!” he yelled again. Just then a whoop of laughter rose to his left.
He couldn’t believe what he saw. A heavyset woman with a cyclone of blond hair literally floated up above the crowd. Just as she descended, disappearing behind the dancing throng, she fluttered upward even higher.
“It’s just like the other Cassian concerts,” one woman yelped with laughter. “His music is so incredible. You just feel light as air.” Applause and more laughter followed. The crowd made space for the floating woman, watching her in amazement.
Wait! Will knew this woman. It was his mom’s aunt Freda. He pressed through the mob for a closer look but couldn’t reach the front. He couldn’t see how Aunt Freda was managing to float upward. He bent down and peered through the legs before him, but he could only make out a smudge of shadows. Will’s nose began to sting, and then came the sneezes. Something was wrong—very wrong.
Each time Aunt Freda neared the ground, vanishing behind the crowd before him, she would fly skyward again like a very large rubber ball.
None of us should be here—she can’t be flying, Will thought. He tried to warn his aunt. “Aunt Freda! Aunt Freda!” But she was lost in the giddy thrill of defying gravity. Will ran over to his mom, who was still gyrating along with the rest of the crowd; the same tune, remixed, played over and over.
“Mom! SOMETHING’S WRONG! MY NOSE IS…I don’t think she’s flying. Something’s really wrong,” Will sputtered.
“It’s amazing, Will,” Deborah said flatly in a blissful trance. “They’re so happy. The music is…enchanting…freeing.” She continued swaying as she spoke.
“Mom! Do you hear me? Mom—” Suddenly, other ladies took flight over the heads of the people around him. Through the shifting legs and wriggling bodies, Will could see something dark moving on the ground. Were they shadows cast by the dancing crowd? Or were the shadows moving on their own?
What is happening? Will pushed past the gyrating spectators, searching the ground for some explanation. Reaching the front of the crowd, he found it. All expression drained from his face.
AH-CHOO! AH-CHOO! Overcome by intense sneezes, Will made a snap decision. If Mom won’t listen to me, I know Aunt Lucille will. He turned heel and ran toward Peniel, confused and scared by what he had witnessed.
In the north tower of Peniel, Aunt Lucille pressed her hands together and knelt before Leo and Marin Wilder. With mixed success, they attempted to copy her posture. “Breathe in slowly now. You too, Marin. When you’re very still, there’s a stirring you can sometimes feel—a warmth. It might be small at first, hardly perceptible. That’s where your gift resides. Focus on where you feel that warmth. I’ve always felt mine in my heart. But it may be different for you.”
Over the last few months, Will’s brother and sister had manifested what Aunt Lucille was convinced were supernatural gifts. She knew from experience that Leo was a Candor with the ability to emit light from his pores. His glow could scatter minor demons and dispel the Darkness. Marin possessed abilities altogether different. Her touch could heal. Once, she even brought some dead animals back to life in her front yard. She was surely a Healer but also a Summoner—one who could, with only a cry, call down angels. Aunt Lucille had talked Will’s mother into letting her conduct occasional training sessions so the kids could develop their unique gifts. Their dad, Dan Wilder, knew nothing of the secret lessons and would not have approved.
“So where are you feeling a sensation?” Aunt Lucille asked.
“In my belly,” Leo whispered. “I feel it in my belly.”
“That could just be hunger growls,” little Marin said, her eyes tight.
“Shut up and find your own gift,” Leo spat out.
“Mine’s up higher, Aunt Lucille,” Marin lisped. “In my noggin.”
“Well, there’s no telling where a gift will reside. Now, let’s focus on those individual locations and breathe right into that spot.”
Instantly, Leo’s face and hands burst into a hot, white light. Neither Aunt Lucille nor Marin could look at him directly.
“Leo, remember how we restrained the light before,” Aunt Lucille instructed, looking away. “Hold your breath and see the light dimming in your mind’s eye.”
“I’m doing it,” Leo murmured.
“Don’t talk. Hold your breath aaaaaaand…very good.”
The brightness of the boy’s sweaty, round face decreased, as did the light spilling from between his palms.
“We’ll keep working on that—”
Just then, Will bounced into the training room. “Aunt Lucille, there are imps all over the park—at the concert that Mom’s covering.”
“Imps?” Lucille jumped to her feet. “Are you sure? How many did you see?”
“A bunch of them. They were tossing ladies around in the park. Aunt Freda was flying around like a blimp losing air.”
“Be respectful, Will.”
The memory of the imps scuttling on the grass at the park rattled him. “I’m sorry, it’s like I’m going crazy. Nobody sees what I’m seeing. The imps, I mean. Mom wouldn’t even listen to me.”
“I’m sure your mother was listening.” Aunt Lucille pulle
d Will’s hands away from his face. “Never doubt your vision. Reality is not based on others’ ability to see it. There are times we must stand alone and call out what others cannot see.”
“I wish I couldn’t see them. Mom was in some kind of daze. She kept dancing with all the others.”
“And the imps were throwing people around the park?”
“Bouncing them in the air. I think they were invisible to everybody else. The ladies thought people were floating.”
“That’s very curious,” Aunt Lucille said, tugging at the silken collar of her blouse. “Tobias and the abbot have been waiting for you in Parlor Five. I’ll send Bart down to the park to look into your imps and flying ladies. Come up to my father’s office after your session and we’ll sort it all out.”
She pushed Will into the hall.
“But shouldn’t we sort it out now? The imps were all over the park.”
“I’ve got to finish up with Leo and Marin. We’ll look into it. Go to your training.” And with that, Aunt Lucille closed the door on him as the kids giggled.
Will reluctantly stomped down the hall and yanked at the round metal ring on one of the doors. Inside, Abbot Athanasius impatiently tapped his fingertips together. He sat at a long table, covered with objects, on the far end of the room.
“Come in. There is no time to waste—though apparently you think there is,” Abbot Athanasius said, rising from the table. Dressed in his jet-black robes, he came to the center of the room. Tobias Shen lifted a small gold reliquary from the table.
“Mr. Wilder, it is time to train you in the care and use of relics. For a Seer, such as yourself, this knowledge—this responsibility—could not be more critical.” Tobias held the reliquary out to Will. “Take, take, take.”
Will threw down his backpack and tossed his pith helmet atop it. He grasped the reliquary with one hand. “Being late wasn’t my fault. I was at the park—”
“Silence, William,” Abbot Athanasius advised. “We are training now. Whatever went on at the park or at home is irrelevant. Stay in this present moment.”
“What is it?” Will whispered, looking down at the gold box with images of three men in crowns carved onto the side.
“The present moment is the time we occupy now. It’s all the duties and responsibilities—”
“No, not that. This! This relic. What is it?”
“Close your eyes. Don’t open them until you see the light,” Tobias said quietly.
Will followed Mr. Shen’s instructions. He had learned to trust the old Chinese man. Even under pressure, Mr. Shen had an air of tranquility about him, a quiet power that he unleashed only when absolutely necessary. Will strained to keep his eyes shut. He wanted to tell the abbot and Mr. Shen about the mist he saw coming out of some of the people’s ears at the park, the imps, and Aunt Freda. Maybe they could help him figure out what was happening back there.
Wow. What a light.
“What am I seeing?” Will said, his eyes still shut.
“Keep watching,” the abbot said.
Thoughts of the imps, his fear, even his annoyance over his mother’s unwillingness to talk were all burned away by this light. It stood in the distance, hovering, demanding his full attention. He bathed in the calming clarity of its glow.
Suddenly the relic was yanked from his hands. “What was that?” Will’s eyes snapped open. “I feel really alert, like I just ran around the block a few times.”
“Those were the relics of Balthasar, Gaspar, and Melchior—better known to you as the Three Wise Men,” Athanasius said, returning the golden casket to the weathered table near the wall. “Most of the Three Kings’ bones are in a reliquary in the Cologne Cathedral. But we store a few of their remains here for safekeeping.”
“You saw the star? The bright, bright star?” Mr. Shen asked.
Will nodded.
“The Wise Men followed a star to find the newborn king. The Promised One. They were single-minded in their pursuit. The star became their guide,” Shen said with a smile. “Many, many miracles have been attributed to their relics, but clarity of mind, a renewal of purpose is the most common.”
Will did feel better, suddenly relieved of the worries that had filled his head.
“As you know, these relics are not some sort of magic,” Abbot Athanasius said, gently lifting a rope from the table. “They are the remains of good people. We honor their example by preserving these articles—instruments of great wonders, surely. But the power they possess—the power that remains—is divine. Protecting these bones or clothes or sacred items from harm is part of our mission. And at times they must be deployed in our fight against the Darkness.”
Mr. Shen raised a finger of caution. “However, not every relic should be used, or even touched, Mr. Wilder. Powerful channels of grace are best used for good purposes and only for the benefit of others.”
Will wrinkled his nose, thinking of the saint’s finger bone he snatched for his own reasons earlier that year. When he lost it, monsters and floodwaters were unleashed all over town. Then the Staff of Moses fell into the hands of a demon, which could have really ended badly.
“Here in the walls of Peniel, we are safe. But using a relic in the outside world requires the utmost caution. As you have learned, Mr. Wilder, it can attract the attention of the Darkness. A relic emits something like a floodlight of goodness. The Sinestri feel its power and are compelled to destroy it.” Mr. Shen clapped his hands together for effect. “They will work to snuff out any light.”
The abbot held a tattered cord out to Will. “Now it takes some coordination and a firm sense of purpose to properly utilize a relic. Like this one, for instance. It was once the cincture—the rope belt—of St. Joseph of Cupertino.”
“Who?” Will asked.
“Joseph of Cupertino. He too saw things others could not. He would gape, slack-jawed, at the visions before him. His fellow Franciscan friars thought Joseph was out of his mind or slow. This was the sixteen hundreds after all. Occasionally while in prayer, and once while hearing Christmas carols, he levitated into the air. He would simply take flight and hover there.”
Will took the rope in hand with great reverence. “This is his actual belt?”
“It is indeed,” the abbot said. “I want you to tie it around your waist.”
A lock bolt shot back from a small door along the wall, startling Will. When the door flew open, there stood a great barrel-chested man with a plume of thinning blond hair. Brother Baldwin was the second in command at Peniel and an endless source of annoyance to Will. Baldwin had been reprimanded by the abbot for pushing the boy too hard in the past. Whatever Will did, the vicar was always there to criticize, correct, or ratchet up the challenge. And though he intimidated Will and anyone else who crossed his path, he was one of the Brethren’s best teachers of defensive tactics. Baldwin looked down his great hook nose at the boy, who held the cord loosely, as if he were about to jump rope with it.
“Is that Joseph of Cupertino’s cincture?” Baldwin asked indignantly. “You’re not going to let him blunder around with that, are you, Abbot?”
“It’s best to allow Will to feel his way—”
“Feel his way?! With all due respect, Abbot, without instruction he’ll soon be feeling his way to the emergency unit.”
Abbot Athanasius stroked his beard and kept his attention on Will. “Proceed.”
Will puffed up his cheeks and struggled to knot the rope. He hated Baldwin staring at him like that.
“Mr. Wilder,” Tobias said gently. “Push all distractions aside. Think of that star you saw earlier. Just kick the earth away—let it go and fly.”
Will bent his whole mind to letting go of the earth. After several seconds, he jumped as if laying up a basketball in the gym. Will Wilder suddenly floated in midair. He was twelve inches off the ground—and he remained there.
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“I’m doing it. I’m doing it.” He was too afraid to look down.
“It is a start, William,” the abbot said, glancing at the sour-faced Baldwin. “Now breathe out and return to the ground.”
Will’s landing was less than graceful. Like he was stepping off an out-of-control escalator, he stumbled forward into Baldwin’s hard torso.
“Deeply unimpressive,” Baldwin huffed under his breath. “If I may?” In one move, he whipped the rope from Will’s waist and began tying it around his own. “The use of this relic requires control and a certain amount of physical strength.”
Will’s face began to flush. Mr. Shen raised a hand to quiet him before he said anything he’d regret.
Baldwin walked to the center of the room. “The mind must be clear and…” He leapt with great force, hovering for barely a moment, inches from the ground. He abruptly dropped to his knees with a thud seconds later.
Will puckered his lips to hide a laugh.
“Vicar, to take flight certainly, the mind must be clear,” Tobias said, “and the heart should be pure.”
“Maybe you’re just too bulky,” Will said sharply.
“And maybe you are too flippant.” Baldwin struggled to his feet, tore at the rope’s knot, and threw it at Will. “Your lack of experience and strength will cost you. I have seen you struggle to master basic skills, Will Wilder. You’re easily distracted and weak. Weak!”
Will started to protest, but the abbot intervened. “That is enough, Baldwin. We are here to train him, not crush his spirit. At Defensive Tactics next week, you can build his strength. He is making progress.”
“Progress?” Baldwin laced his fingers together over his stomach and moved close to the abbot. “You coddle him and put us all at risk. Every time you look at him, you see another Jacob. Athanasius…he is nothing like his great-grandfather. Not even close.” He exhaled and without regarding anyone further, marched out the door leading to the hallway.
Will Wilder #3 Page 4