Will Wilder #2

by Raymond Arroyo

  “Aunt Lucille, Leo was in the middle of his match last night and he jumped—”

  “What is in the jar? Just focus on the jar, dear.”

  “But he slammed into a broom closet and the whole thing lit up—”

  “Unless there is a broom closet in the jar, I really don’t care just now.”

  “His skin started to glow.” Will was practically screaming. “Leo’s face and his hands were lit up like an LED light.”

  Aunt Lucille blinked as if confused. She placed the jar behind her back onto the bookshelf. “Okay, you’ve got my attention. Explain without shouting. Leo’s skin was aglow?”

  “Like a lightbulb,” Will said. “About twenty minutes after it happened, once we got home, his skin color went back to normal. What do you think happened to him?”

  “He’s a Candor.” Aunt Lucille shook her head excitedly, causing her strawberry-blond spiral curls to shudder. She ran to a small table next to the fireplace behind Will. Her hand slid along the spines of a jumbled tower of books until she found a frayed beige volume.

  “What’s a Candor? And why are you so excited?” Will asked.

  She slammed the book on the desk before Will, dust flying up. “All your questions will be answered, dear, I promise.” She licked her fingers, flipping through the pages. “It’s a very rare gift, like your ability to see the unseen. What did your father say when Leo brightened?”

  Will scrunched up his face. “He threw Mom’s sweater over Leo and got him out of the karate place. He didn’t say much really. Except that Leo was probably overheated.”

  “Typical.” She pursed her lips. “Ah, yes, here we are.” Lucille pointed to a ragged page in the book covered with tight handwriting. She tilted it slightly so Will could read along. “These are my father’s notes about supernatural phenomena he observed among the Brethren during his travels. Look at this.”

  While at Monte Cassino, during one of my first visits, I made the acquaintance of a Brother Lucido. Being intensely shy, he kept mostly to himself. He never came to meals with the community, preferring to eat alone in his cell. Then one night, I stepped out onto the hillside behind the monastery for some fresh air. The moon was so bright that evening, it gave the entire valley an uncommon clarity. Not that I needed the light for clarity. Over the hedges, I saw intense shadows swarming toward the monastery. They moved like large insects up the side of the bluff. My face must have registered the fear I felt at their approach. Brother Lucido had just stepped out of the back door when he observed my expression. “What disturbs you, Jacob?” he asked. I told him what I saw. “Do not fear. They are minor demons sent to disarm us,” he said. “Return to your cell and do not be concerned.” I started for the back door even as I saw the things close in on us from below.

  Lucido placed two hands together and lowered his head. In that moment his face and hands burned with a white light. Opening his arms wide, a mighty radiance spilled in all directions. The horde of shadows instantly dispersed. Lucido later explained that he was a light-caster, a Candor. Minor demons thrive in darkness, he told me. His gift is different from my own rebutting illuminance in that my “ray” can be directed toward a specific target and has an effect on major demons. When a Candor ignites (that is the word he used over and over, “ignites”), he spreads light in all directions to scatter the fiends. Candors can be very effective against a simultaneous attack by minor demons. Lucido shared with me the methods through which he learned to harness his gift. I will attempt on the following pages to capture his reflections…

  “Well, there you have it.” Aunt Lucille tugged at the sleeves of her silk jacket, as was her custom when she was either excited or proud. “Though Leo’s gift is not as powerful as my illuminance, it can cover a wider area. Your father must be beside himself. First you and your sight. Then Marin and her healing abilities. Now Leo…There is always a reason for these gifts, dear.”

  “It’s a jeweled knife. A beautiful, jeweled knife.” Will’s eyes were fixed on the glass jar at the end of the desk. “Was it my great-grandfather’s?”

  “Was what your great-grandfather’s?”

  “The knife in the jar.”

  Aunt Lucille lowered her face next to the glass, her brows knitted together. “Is that what you see there, Will? A knife?”

  “Yes.” Will nodded in frustration.

  “Would you like to inspect it?”

  “Can I? Yes, I want to touch it. How do we get it out?”

  “Look very closely first. Once it is removed, putting it back could be difficult.”

  Will leaned over the jar, practically caressing the surface with his hands. As he stared, a repulsed look overtook his face. He jumped back, nearly dropping the jar on the desk.

  “It’s…it’s a big claw or something. What happened to the knife?”

  Aunt Lucille grabbed the jar by its neck and pulled it away. “There never was a knife in there. It was always a talon. The talon of a minor demon, according to my father. It assumed the shape of something desirable to you—something to pull you in. That’s the way the Sinestri work. They adopt pleasing shapes to mask their reality—to deceive.” She slid the jar back onto the top shelf of the bookcase.

  “But it looked just like a knife.” Will came around the desk to inspect the jar again.

  Loud banging on the door stopped him where he stood.

  “Lucille! Lucille!” the voice outside yelled. Will knew the voice as well as the sound of trouble in it. He followed his great-aunt to the door, his pith helmet in hand.

  When Lucille pulled open the door, a figure was doubled over in the hall, winded from the climb. Wrinkled hands on his thighs, Tobias Shen bent at the waist, trying to recover his breath. His eyes were alive with excitement and worry.

  Seeing Mr. Shen, Will remembered that it had been a week since he watered his “tree” down by the river. He had promised Mr. Shen, who was the groundskeeper at St. Thomas Church and a member of the Brethren, that each day he would water a walking stick he had planted early in the summer. It was sort of a discipline exercise for Will. One that he tried to make good on. Amazingly the stick or “tree” had sprouted blooms and even produced almonds from time to time.

  “I know. I know, I forgot to water my tree,” Will said preemptively. “I promise I’ll do it right after my training today.”

  Shen straightened up, swatting at nothing in particular with his left hand—it always made Will think of the catcher’s mitt he once left in the weather for a whole summer.

  “Water the tree when you can. It’s very important. But I ran up”—Shen inhaled abruptly—“ran up because there is big, big, big trouble downstairs.”

  “Where?” Aunt Lucille asked.

  “The Egyptian Gallery.” Shen took Aunt Lucille by her arms, looking as if he could cry. “The Staff of Moses. It is gone.”

  In spite of the sticky heat, a dense crowd was packed near the Perilous Falls bandstand that day. Some brought their own chairs, while others stood in the hazy sun balancing children on their shoulders. Buses from Hinnom Valley, Sidon, and other nearby towns carried scores of self-proclaimed Pothinuts to see the life coach, motivational speaker, and bestselling author Pothinus Sab in person.

  All eyes were on the delicate wrought-iron structure at the center of the park. City officials, including Dan Wilder, filed into the bandstand and took seats on folding chairs beside the main podium. The mayor had made it clear that she expected all city council members and Perilous Falls officials to be present at Sab’s grand opening announcement. After all, it was Mayor Lynch who had invited Sab to open a Karnak Center for Regeneration and Creative Therapy in Perilous Falls. After reading accounts of the amazing feats “the miracle worker” had accomplished in New York, London, Los Angeles, Paris, and Vancouver, she could not resist.

  Through Sab’s efforts, strife-ridden communities were “healed” and “regenerated.” Illnesses were cured and the future had been accurately predicted. With the opening of each local Karnak Ce
nter, disagreements and even old rivalries ceased. Why couldn’t a new facility have the same effect on Perilous Falls? Sab not only brought the promise of civic harmony, but to the mayor’s mind, he could also be a boost to her reelection campaign. A popular mayor is a good bet in any election, but one responsible for bringing miracles to town could stay in office forever.

  The air was electric as the spindly Mayor Ava Lynch climbed the steps of the bandstand. In her red suit that could have been a Canadian Mountie’s uniform, the sixty-nine-year-old four-term mayor took the podium by force.

  “My fellow citizens of Perilous Falls, a bright light has come to dwell among us,” she bellowed in her most inspirational tone. “After learning of his marvelous work around the world—of which I know you are all familiar—I have invited the renowned motivational leader and spiritual coach Pothinus Sab to grace us with our own Karnak Center. And I’m pleased to announce: he has accepted the invitation!”

  In the VIP section just in front of the bandstand, Evelyn Meriwether nearly injured her hands from clapping. So did most of the assembled. When the applause tsunami subsided, the mayor picked up where she had left off.

  “Citizens, I’m as excited as you are. In fact, my belief in Mr. Sab and Karnak are so strong that I am donating a piece of my own personal property to be the site of the new center. The old Grimma Funeral Home on Dura Street will soon be transformed into the Perilous Falls Karnak Center for Regeneration and Creative Therapy.” Despite the mayor’s enthusiastic presentation, her helmet of black hair with the white traffic lane running up the center did not move in the least. “Would you please help me to welcome the wonder-worker, Egypt’s own man of miracles, an honorary citizen of Perilous Falls, and my new friend, Pothinus Sab.”

  A surge of exhilaration brought the crowd to its feet. Women hooted and screamed. Dan Wilder, looking as if he could use a barf bag, uncomfortably checked the edges of the bandstand for a glimpse of the main attraction. After several minutes, the applause died down. People shifted and craned their necks for a sight of Sab. Silence fell over the park. Suddenly a voice at the back of the crowd yelped, “He’s there. There he is with the baby.”

  Camera people ran to the back of the crowd to capture the first images of Pothinus Sab making his triumphal entry into Perilous Falls Park. Wearing a white collarless suit, he appeared to be cradling an infant in his arms. Walking several yards with the child, he planted a kiss on the baby’s head and returned it to its weeping mother. Then extending his arms with great effort, he reached out to those on either side of the main aisle leading to the bandstand. Women pressed against the barricades, trembling at his touch. Multiple babies were dangled over the fence. Sab embraced a few of them and then, with a practiced expression of surprise, posed for the sea of phones held aloft.

  “I just love his heart,” a mother with a child on her hip said to Deborah Wilder, who had positioned herself in the press section. “Have you ever seen anyone care for people like Pothinus?”

  “No, I can’t say I’ve ever seen anyone quite like him,” Deborah responded drily. She had to cover the event for her Supernatural Secrets television show. But her folded arms and skeptical expression ensured Deborah would not be mistaken for a Pothinut.

  At long last, Sab bounded onto the bandstand stage. His black hair and goatee shimmered in the sunlight. Dark piercing eyes flashed as he raised his palms over the crowd. It instantly stilled. Touching his slender fingers together, he half bowed toward the standing city officials. “Madam Mayor, I am overwhelmed by your welcome and your generosity.” He solemnly turned to the audience once more. “I have come from a faraway land to bring you renewal and hope.” At once parched and stinging, his voice had traces of the desert wind in it. “As I move through Perilous Falls, I have seen such unhappiness here. Such profound sadness.” He seemed almost pained.

  Some members of the audience exchanged confused looks. Sab dramatically clutched the golden amulet hanging from the chain at his throat, closing his eyes. With his free hand, he labored to push away some invisible obstacle.

  “I can feeeel your struggle. In these trying times, it is hard to avoid anger. And you have much to be angry about, don’t you? Well, here’s a surprise: Don’t hold it back! This is the problem—we withhold the anger that needs to be free. Beyond that anger is the joy and the regeneration that you desire. But first you must releeease your anger. Get it out! Who is going to start?” Sab pulled the microphone off the stand and with the rhythm of a jaguar, slunk to the right side of the bandstand. He leaned over the iron railing, reveling in the crowd’s reaction. “What angers you most? What is irritating you, my friends?” He stretched the microphone over the heads of the audience.

  “I’m sick of politicians who stop listening once we elect them!” one woman screamed. Loud applause greeted her words. Mayor Lynch and some of the city council forced smiles and adjusted their seats.

  “I haven’t worked in five months,” a middle-aged man bawled. “Worked my whole life and I can’t find a job. Is that fair?” Loud grunts of empathy echoed throughout the park.

  “I hate my neighbors. Their miserable dog drops mountains of poop on my lawn—twice a day—which I have to clean up.”

  “My teacher is an idiot.”

  “I have a boss who lies, cheats, and cares about one thing—feeding his big gut.”

  “My husband never listens to me!”

  “I have the most ungrateful children. They got everything and now they don’t even call.”

  Grievance after bile-filled grievance belched up from the crowd. Pothinus Sab sauntered across the bandstand, encouraging the mob to continue its “honesty.” He seemed energized by each new complaint. “My friends, this is what the Karnak Center is all about: facing reality and discovering new paths forward together,” he jubilantly told the audience.

  Dan Wilder studied the faces on the lawn. Every one of them held a spiteful expression. He could not believe how in a matter of moments, the audience had transformed from delight to fury. They hung on Sab’s every word, but there was not a smile to be seen. Escalating moans of vengeance and rage hovered in the air.

  Like a conductor hearing a familiar score, Pothinus Sab was utterly unaffected by the gripes and threats surrounding him.

  “How refreshing it is to hear your truth, my children,” he said, raising an open palm at the podium. He paused, scanning the crowd. “Shall I tell you what I see in your town’s future? Would you like that?” A roar rose up from the people in the park. “Bring the sacred vessel forward,” Sab commanded.

  A tiny, shriveled man in white linen robes wobbled up the bandstand stairs. He carried a brass pot covered by a metal plate. A little statue that could have been a golden hippo stood atop the plate. It was identical to the amulet at Sab’s throat.

  “Many thanks, Sarsour.” Pothinus Sab removed the plate from the pot. He stared deeply into the hole. His hands shot up to his temples. “Ooooh, such things I see.” The audience leaned forward. High overhead, clouds smudged out the blue sky.

  “Misery upon misery is coming to Perilous Falls. Bloody…fiery…ugly things. I shall not share more—I cannot.” He left Sarsour and the pot, stepping off the bandstand. Some in the crowd begged him to continue, every eye trained on Sab alone. “You will be shaken, my children. But I want you to know, and I am very serious, Pothinus will not abandon you in your trials. No matter what comes in the days ahead, the Karnak Center will be open to all of you—if you want it to be. Is that what you wish?”

  Thunderous applause broke out in the park.

  “It is good that I have come now. In moments of crisis we need protection, no? The Karnak Center and our practices will be a safe haven in the midst of your woes. But trust is required of you. I have often found—and I have seen it in every corner of Perilous Falls—that attachments to the worn-out, tired beliefs of yesterday enslave us. These old, brittle notions block our acceptance of new thoughts, new beliefs, better ways—isn’t that true?”

 
; Cries of “Yes,” “It is,” and “We love you, Pothinus” could be heard. Sab humbly bowed his head, speaking into the microphone as if praying. “We shall not allow the past to hold us back. We shall not be bound by ancient edicts. No! Together we shall find a new way, a new approach—true regeneration for each of us here in Perilous Falls.” The crowd embraced him with their applause.

  Mayor Lynch led the standing ovation behind Sab. All the council members rose in jubilation, except for Dan Wilder. Something in the distance mesmerized him. When he tried to stand, jarred by whatever he saw in the crowd, he stumbled. His face a mask of worry, Dan walked off the back of the bandstand without a word. He found Deborah in the press section and took her by the arm.

  “What are you doing?” she yelled to be heard. “I need to see this.”

  “There is nothing more to see. We have to leave now.” He ran the back of his hand across his wet forehead. “I’ve seen enough.”

  He forcefully pulled Deborah away from the crowd. Given Dan’s agitation, she opted to go with him.

  Behind them, over the loudspeaker, they could hear Pothinus Sab’s conclusion. “I invite you and your families to the official opening of the Karnak Center next week. For all those who join us, I will have something very special: a tried and true protection from harm. Would you like that? With this protection, we will discover true regeneration! Will you trust me? Will you? WILL YOU?”

  Evelyn Meriwether’s eyes spilled tears of joy. “Oh yes. Yes. Yes!” She reached a hand over the barricade to Sab, who was only a few feet away. Len Meriwether stood behind her sullenly chewing a piece of gum, his hands clutched behind his back.

  Evelyn turned to her husband. “I want to bring Maxie to the Karnak Center next week,” she told him in a rush. “Pothinus will know how to get rid of Maxie’s nightmares. I just know it.”

  “Can he cure nightmares too?” Len looked as if he had just eaten a bad oyster. “I didn’t hear him say anything about nightmares, Evelyn.”