Will Wilder #3

by Raymond Arroyo

  “Hello, Miss Dagon,” Max said, deliberately stopping in front of her.

  “Hey.” The woman never looked over at him. She too was listening intently to the sound coming from her earphones and tapping her feet rhythmically—completely preoccupied.

  Frustrated for her brother, and doubtful of his theory, Cami put her foot in the door and raised her voice. “Miss Dagon. Hi. Hey!”

  The woman turned indignant. “What do you want? Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, ma’am. Just saying hi. My brother—”

  “Can’t you see I’m busy here. I haven’t time for you or your brother.” There was a note of unwarranted viciousness in her speech.

  “Okay. I’m leaving.” Cami backed toward the doorway. “By the way, Miss Dagon, what are you listening to?”

  “Music. It relaxes me. Unlike this conversation.” She angrily flipped the lights on at the cutting stations. “It’s Cassian,” she said with a quick, eerie calm. “You should listen to his music. He’s so gifted. When I hear his music, I feel complete relaxation….I could just float away.” She widened her arms and rose several feet off the floor.

  Cami grabbed her mouth in panic. She had heard stories of people “flying” at Cassian’s concerts, but the sudden vision of a grown-up she knew levitating freaked her out.

  With Sally Dagon still hanging in the air, Cami backed out of the hair salon and ran to her brother on the sidewalk. “Did you see? She was floating.”

  “I saw. Something’s very wrong,” Max said, rolling up the street in the direction of Peniel.

  “She was floating in midair, Max. Didn’t you find her odd? She seemed very odd to me. Kind of zombified.”

  “Miss Lucille wants us to be her eyes and ears. You have to go tell her what we saw. They’re all zombified.”

  Cami looked over her shoulder. “I feel we should be doing something,” she said, clutching her fingers nervously.

  “We are doing something. You’re going to the museum, and I’m going to catch my school bus.” And he sped to the corner where his bus had just arrived.

  * * *

  Baldwin led Will to a building at the back end of Peniel that he had visited only once. It was eight stories tall and the bars on the windows of the upper two floors distinguished the tower from the structures surrounding it. A domed black slate roof with sharp metallic daggered ornaments on the overhang gave the building a menacing air.

  They entered a dark cavernous space. The far wall of the room hid a rounded staircase. During the climb up many flights of stairs, Will began to sneeze.

  “You must learn to contain that unfortunate habit,” Baldwin said dismissively, looking back at Will. “You might also consider a haircut.” Will apologetically tucked a few of his untamed curls beneath the pith helmet as he stomped up the last of the stairs. The sneezes made him a little jumpy.

  Baldwin leaned the metallic spear he carried against a corner near the black metal door before them. There were three locks: one at the bottom, one in the middle, and one near the top of the door. The vicar disarmed all three with an oversized key from his habit and turned the door’s braided metal handle.

  “This is the community attic. We rarely use it today,” Baldwin whispered. “But I’ve taken some liberties for your Defensive Tactics training. Step in quickly. Go on.”

  Will hesitated, never really trusting Baldwin. But he did as he was told.

  The room contained aisles of stacked chairs, metal pots, sculptures, old lamps, and mirrors. Lots of mirrors. Crisscrossing beneath the dome overhead, carved exposed beams wore webs coated in dust. The barred windows, hidden by piles of bric-a-brac, permitted little light inside. Will eagerly walked down the main aisle to explore the room.

  “Why are there bars on the windows?” he asked.

  “To keep the things here—here.”

  Will stopped walking. “What things?”

  “The belongings of the community, I suppose.” Baldwin locked the door they entered through. “There are also Fomorii scattered about.”

  “Fomorii?!” Now Will understood why he continued to sneeze.

  “I’ve placed a few Fomorii in the room. Don’t fear. They are restrained. Some are leashed. Others are in cages.” He had Will’s full attention. “There will also be a few projected delusions. You will have to distinguish the true Fomorii from the delusions. As a Seer, this should be second nature to you. The task is quite simple: Clear each of the aisles. When you see a Fomorii, spear it. And please avoid breaking the mirrors.” He slowly tossed the metallic spear back and forth in his large hands. Will reached for it.

  “No, not this one,” Baldwin said, placing it aside. He pulled two wooden spears from a storage cabinet. “Use these. They’re lighter. They’ll handle better.”

  AH-CHOO! AH-CHOO! Will struggled to talk over the sneezes. “I’ve only trained with spears once—with Aunt Lucille. Do we have to use spears?”

  “Yes, William, we do.”

  Will shrugged. “Any other instructions?” AH-CHOO! “Or is that it?”

  Baldwin turned his hawk nose up at the boy. Will noticed that the vicar’s brow was moist. “The Darkness uses the black arts to distort reality. To make you believe you are seeing one thing, when you are seeing something quite another. Look deeply before you throw the spear; try to see with your heart. Otherwise you’ll be easily deceived and lose your way.”

  Will frowned in confusion, but nodded anyway. He stepped into the main aisle, a spear in each hand. There was a faint scratching on the wooden planks past the piles of gold chairs. Will carefully padded forward, on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. The scratching on the floorboard grew louder. He took a right turn down an aisle canopied with big hanging lanterns.

  “Vicar!” Will yelled. “What if one of these things gets loose or hurts me?”

  “That’s why I am here, William,” Baldwin responded loudly. “I have your back. It’s a controlled environment. What are you afraid of?”

  Will decided not to answer him. He pushed aside a dangling lamp and pursued the scratching noise. A few feet away, a small dog furiously pawed at the floor. It was white and fluffy—obviously scared. The dog began to whimper. It kept looking to the left, nervously, and loosing those high-pitched barks that only an animal in distress can summon. Will peered closely at the dog. He lowered his spears. Poor little thing.

  Will squatted low. “What’s wrong, fella?” He crept forward to try to see what the dog was reacting to. As he got closer and stared into the darkness, the dog stopped barking. When he looked back at the animal, it wasn’t a dog any longer. Inches from Will’s face was a small dragon-like creature, with oozing red eyes and small, sharp teeth.

  Will threw himself backward. But not fast enough. The dragon beast leapt onto his chest and spread its tiny arms wide. The balled-up black paws sprang open and talons almost as long as the arms shot out. Will didn’t even see the leash around its neck. He instinctively dropped the spears and punched the thing in the face. It tumbled into the darkness.

  Will got to his feet and picked up one of the spears. The disoriented creature wobbled into the dim light. The thing’s neck was now bulging just above the leash, which stretched to the breaking point. Will had apparently punched the Fomorii’s head into its throat. Not knowing what the creature was capable of, Will shot it with the spear.

  His throw was so intense that the creature, like a missile, snapped its leash, overturned chairs, and a pile of swords and finally lodged onto the leg of a table full of old goblets. In seconds the dragon beast evaporated in a haze of green mist.

  “Did you survive?” Baldwin intoned from somewhere in the room.

  “I’m fine,” Will said, snatching the other spear from the floor.

  Baldwin reached for the metal spear. He gripped it near the center, and then as if he were huntin
g something, started down the right aisle, along the attic wall.

  Will had been deceived by the Fomorii’s puppy routine. He would be sure to look closer next time. Jumping around the corner, he spied only a canyon of stacked trunks leading to a barred window. The trunks to the left jostled, which startled Will. He lifted the spear and stood stone still. He didn’t even breathe. Then something moved behind the trunks to his right. He silently widened his stance and heaved the spear at the sound, even though a trunk blocked his view. The whole wall of luggage tumbled down on top of Baldwin, who began shouting. “You are a complete disaster. You have failed, William. Failed.”

  Will looked over the top of the trunk rubble, where Baldwin crouched, pinned to the bottom of the wall. The spear had pierced the wide sleeve of his habit, immobilizing the vicar. Baldwin fought to loosen the spear, which had lodged nearly two feet into the wall. “I am not a Fomorii, William Wilder. Come remove this spear, instantly.” At his feet, the silver spear he had carried earlier rolled across the floor.

  “I’ll be right there.” Will ran to the end of his aisle. Turning the corner, he could hear Baldwin hollering and thrashing about.

  From afar, Will saw two toddlers crawling slowly toward Baldwin—which made him laugh. But the vicar kicked his feet at them, anxiously yanking at the spear that still held him fast to the wall.

  As Will approached, the infants faded from view and he saw them clearly for what they were: two huge grubs inching toward Baldwin. Their white translucent bodies pulsed with gray fluids and their pinchers snapped along the sides of their oval mouths.

  “I thought the Fomorii couldn’t get loose,” Will whispered.

  “They must have eaten through the tethers,” Baldwin hissed. The grubs closed in on him. “Stop them,” he pleaded. “William! Stop them.”

  Will ran forward and kicked each of the grubs like footballs. One exploded into a gray mist on the domed ceiling; the other hit the far wall, meeting an identical fate.

  Baldwin relaxed for a moment and exhaled. “That’s sufficient training for today.” He tugged at the spear, which refused to leave the wall despite his efforts. Will knelt next to him and with one hand pulled the spear from the wall, releasing the vicar’s sleeve.

  “Quite the sudden display of strength, William. You must be training continuously. Who is working with you?”

  “Nobody,” Will said, taking the wooden spear with him. He headed for the door, keeping a sharp eye on the sides of the aisle, watchful for any Fomorii that might leap out at him.

  Baldwin clutched the metal spear on the floor and started to stand. He gripped the weapon and raised it above his shoulder, feeling its weight for a moment.

  Will turned. “Could be my football workouts. I’ve been training with the team. I just joined. In fact, I have to go to a practice in a little bit.”

  Baldwin lowered the spear and nodded. “Physical discipline is necessary. It will sharpen your reflexes. Those reflexes could save your life one day. Next time we’ll devise a course with that in mind, William.”

  Will mumbled an “okay,” even though the odd look in Baldwin’s eye and his steady, calm voice gave him the creeps.

  “Hold on to that spear. In fact, take it. It’s time you learned proper handling.” His thin lips curved into a smile. “I think you’ll do very well with a spear.”

  The sun burned Will’s eyes as he ran from Peniel to meet his friends at Bub’s Treats and Sweets. Exiting the main gate of the fence that surrounded the complex, he lifted a hand to fend off the sun’s glare. While crossing onto Main Street at the corner, a voice called out to him.

  “Will Wilder? Will?”

  He squinted to make out the owner of the voice. It was a woman he had never seen before: a sturdy white-haired older lady with apple cheeks. She wore a green shawl over a simple brown dress; a beautiful golden retriever lay at her feet. The woman stood in the shade of a weeping willow.

  “You are Will Wilder?” she asked.

  “Yes.” Though after what he’d just been through, he was wary of the stranger.

  “Oh, I knew it.” Her eyes crinkled and she smiled a satisfied smile. As she stared with a piercing glance, all the warmth and kindness she radiated turned to a sudden look of concern. She uneasily checked the faces of the people walking up the street and to her left. “I know you don’t know me—which is hardly important—but I ask you to listen. There is a woman—uh, people—who mean you harm, Will.”

  “Do I know you, ma’am?” Will asked, trying to remember if he’d seen her before.

  The woman exhaled and patted her dog’s head. “That wouldn’t change a thing.” She shook her head from side to side as if she had made some decision. “There is a woman across the river in Wormwood who means you harm. She’s a witch.” She pointed toward Peniel. “A member of the community there—one of the Brethren—knows this witch. He could hurt you if you aren’t careful.”

  “Who? How do you know the Brethren?”

  She went to say something, then shook her head again and pressed on: “It’s the vicar, Baldwin. Be mindful of him. He’s under her control.”

  “A witch’s control?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Where is she?” Now Will was the one looking up and down the block, searching the faces of the people swaying along the street, headphones fixed in their ears.

  “She came to Perilous Falls the other day. I followed after her, but I can’t say where she is now. Once she docked her boat, I lost her.”

  “She has a boat?”

  The woman took Will by the arm. “Tell your family that you’re in danger. They’ll help you. It’s no good keeping secrets from them. You’ll live to regret those. If I’ve learned one thing, it’s the importance of being honest with your family.”

  “What about the witch? Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I’ve seen Baldwin and the witch together—in Wormwood. Don’t you worry, now, I’ll find the old hag. She’s here somewhere. But we must keep you safe.”

  The mysterious woman made Will nervous. “And why do we have to do that?”

  “Because you’re important, Will.” She leaned into his ear. “I know who you are.” She smelled of lavender and powder.

  From across the street, Cami yelled, “William! William! We’re waiting!”

  Will broke away from the kindly old lady. “I’ve got to go. Thank you—I think.”

  “Remember what I said. Stay clear of Baldwin and put your family on guard. They’ll protect you.” She smiled wistfully after Will as she watched him cross the street.

  “Who’s that?” Cami asked, shooing the flies that constantly surrounded Bub’s Treats and Sweets, like the sugary smell in the air.

  “Some weird lady. She was warning me about Baldwin and a witch.”

  “Really?!” Cami looked back to the spot where the old woman had stood. She was gone.

  “She’s probably crazy,” Will said, patting the heads of a few of the animals lining the front of Bub’s. They were always hovering around the shop, drawn by the food and water put out for them. He opened the door for Cami and checked the street one last time. What he saw disquieted him. Will rushed to the metal table in the corner by the front window, where Simon and Andrew were already chomping on doughnuts and a slice of cake.

  “Guys, look outside. What do you see?” Will asked in a hush.

  Simon put down his fat paperback of The Once and Future King and his doughnut and started to giggle. “You do know you do this all the time. Don’t ask us what we see. You’re the one who sees what others can’t. Let’s just save time. What do you see?”

  “All the people are in a daze. Look at them. They’re lost in their own worlds,” Will said.

  “Aaaaand?” Cami said, taking in the zoned-out passersby.

  Will could think only of the pr
ophecy:

  Their ears itch for the melodies of hell and their eyes delight in dark delusions.

  Shades rise up to greet them,

  And restrain them from the light.

  “Well!” Simon quipped. “Snap out of it. What do you see?”

  Will frowned, never taking his eyes off the citizens slowly walking down Main Street. “There are little black demons—imps—all around them. They’re following everyone on that street. It’s like an invasion.”

  “Didn’t Max mention something about ‘black devils’ chasing you down, Will-man? In his dream?” Andrew added with a full mouth.

  “He did,” Cami said. “Are these just like the ones you saw at the park?”

  “Identical. They also look like the one trailing Caleb in the locker room.” A look of hatred washed over Will’s face. “That kid is possessed, I’m telling you. And I’m going to stop him today.”

  “Whoa, there, Dark Knight. Who made you leader of the Justice League?” Andrew said, poking Will on the shoulder. Then he checked his watch. “If we don’t head over to practice soon, we’re going to be late. But I’d lay off the vengeance thing.”

  “Might does not make right,” Simon said, waving his paperback at Will. “Just ask King Arthur.”

  “Caleb’s not going to bully everybody—especially me. And after what he did to Renny Bertolf and the band room, somebody needs to smash him back.”

  “You were great on the field the other day, but don’t get a swelled head,” Simon warned. “Just because you can run a ball a few yards doesn’t mean you can take down a guy like Caleb.”

  “You don’t understand, Simon,” Will said, grabbing his backpack. “I read the prophecy today and I think Caleb is part of it. Let’s go, Andrew. See you later, Cami.”

  Cami watched them exit and shoot past the front window. She waved her fingers at them as they passed. “I went to see Miss Lucille at Peniel this morning. Max and I saw some pretty wigged-out people on the way to his bus. There are flying books at Mr. Bonaventure’s and Miss Dagon was floating in the air, totally out of it,” she shared with Simon, her attention on the street. “You gotta admit, they do look zombified. Miss Lucille believes that DJ Cassian is at the center of this. She also thinks Will is in big trouble. I told her we’d keep an eye on him.”