Gorge whimpered. “Not Old Maid. Anything but that!”
Hoonga clicked his tongue. “Oh, come now, you know you want to play.”
“I do not!” Gorge insisted.
Hoonga ignored the red demon as he took up his deck of playing cards. Trutti continued to chant from atop Hoonga’s shoulder, growing louder and louder. Old Maid was by far the worst game and caused the greatest amount of anguish for Hoonga’s victims.
After a rousing, or torturous, depending on your perspective, game of Old Maid, Gorge was free to go.
An hour later, the intercom buzzed, and the sniveling voice of Hoonga’s secretary filled the room, temporarily breaking Hoonga’s concentration.
“Master Hoonga?” the voice inquired.
“Yes, Tharice, what is it?” Hoonga responded.
“I have a message for you.”
“Go on.”
“Someone will be paying you a visit later this evening to discuss an important matter,” Tharice said.
Hoonga’s eye twitched. “Who said this?”
The static crackled on the intercom. “I apologize,” Tharice said. “He wouldn’t give me his name. But he did say you would be expecting him.”
The intercom fell silent, but Hoonga didn’t move.
“What is it, master?”
“Not now, Trutti.” Hoonga walked to his desk. “I need time to think. Leave me for a while.”
“Leave you? You want me to go?” Trutti asked in disbelief.
Without another word, the enormous Cyclops shooed Trutti off his shoulder, and the lesser demon darted from the room.
Charlie weaved his way through the crowded hallway toward his Spanish classroom. He felt awkward and exposed with the weight of the unusual book sagging in his backpack. All around him, kids whispered to one another at their lockers, and he wondered if they were still talking about what had happened yesterday with Mo.
“Look!” Walter cheered. “It’s your girlfriend!”
Charlie looked up, then quickly ducked his head. Melissa Bitner, perfect ponytail whipping behind her in slow motion, was walking straight toward Charlie.
“She’s looking right at you!” Walter’s voice was filled with glee.
“No she’s not,” Charlie muttered under his breath. “She’s probably—”
“Hey, Charlie.” Melissa stood in front of him, hugging her chemistry textbook to her chest. “I feel bad about what happened yesterday. Are you okay?”
She was all by herself. Where were the other popular girls who usually followed her around? Charlie had never shared an actual one-on-one conversation with Melissa before.
“Uh…um…I…have Spanish class.” They were the only words he could piece together in his mind.
“Oh my gosh,” Walter groaned. “You are horrible. Just say something normal to her.”
“Mo thinks he’s so cool because he can pick on people,” Melissa said. “But he’s really just a big idiot.”
Charlie swallowed.
“Come on! Don’t do this. Just agree with her. Nod or something!” Walter pleaded in Charlie’s ear.
“Yeah…you’re right,” Charlie managed to say. “He is an idiot.” He kept his eyes glued to the floor and Melissa’s light-blue flip-flops.
“That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” Walter asked.
Melissa laughed. “So, are you heading to Spanish class? Is that what you said? Who’s your teacher?”
Charlie found an ounce of courage and raised his eyes, but only halfway. He ended up staring at Melissa’s painted fingernails and her chemistry book. “I have Mrs. Morales.”
“Oh, I heard she’s tough.”
“She’s not so bad,” Charlie answered, relaxing a bit. “She just sometimes—” He stopped short and stared at Melissa’s arm. That was odd. Where did she get that bracelet? Had she always worn it? He’d never noticed it on her before.
“Here we go again.” Walter’s voice snapped Charlie from his trance. “How many times are you going to make her say your name over and over before you answer?”
“Charlie?”
Charlie finally realized Melissa was speaking, and he dropped his eyes once more to the floor. “I better get to class,” he mumbled.
“Yeah, me too.” She moved to the side, and Charlie shuffled past.
“What happened?” Walter asked. “Do you always freeze up when you talk to girls? That’s a real problem. If you would just listen to me, I could help you not act like such a doof.”
“I don’t need your help,” Charlie said, pausing at the drinking fountain. He took a gulp of water and glanced around. “I froze up because I noticed something about her. Something weird.”
“What kind of weird?”
“She was wearing a Spirit Spy bracelet.”
“A what?”
“Spirit Spy is Wisdom Willows’s trademarked brand. The same geometrical design is stamped on all his merchandise. T-shirts, excavating gloves, jewelry. Melissa’s bracelet had that symbol!”
“Whatever, man. It probably just looked a lot like a spirit—whatever you called it—bracelet.”
“I think I would know what it looks like, okay? I’ve seen that design hundreds of times on SpiritSpy.org. That was definitely one of Wisdom Willows’s products.”
“Well, I bet she doesn’t even know what it stands for.”
“I guess so.” Still, where would Melissa find a bracelet like that? It wasn’t like they were sold at the mall.
“¿Sí, Charlie, puedo ayudarte?” Mrs. Morales asked as Charlie approached her desk. The bell had rung a minute earlier, and all of Charlie’s classmates had already left.
“Um, yeah, um…what?” Spanish was not Charlie’s best subject.
“May I help you?” she translated.
“I was wondering if you know what language this is written in.” Charlie unzipped his backpack and removed the book. It thudded loudly against the desk.
Mrs. Morales frowned at the dirty cover and ripped several tissues from the box next to her mug of pens. After wiping most of the dirt clean, she flipped open the cover and raised an eyebrow. “Is this from the library?” she asked.
“Yes…I mean, no. Uh…” Charlie stumbled over his words. “It’s not from the school. I checked it out from Gabbiter Public Library.”
“Well, it’s definitely not Spanish or any language I’ve ever seen before,” she said.
“Can you read any of it?”
She wiped one of the pages with another tissue and narrowed her eyes. After several more flips, she sighed. “I’m afraid not. I would assume it’s written in some sort of dead language.”
“Oh, snap!” Walter shouted.
Charlie jerked back in surprise and nearly knocked over the plant on his Spanish teacher’s desk. Mrs. Morales gasped, and Charlie quickly faked a sneeze.
“Sorry!” Charlie apologized, wiping his nose. “I think I have a cold.”
“It’s all right,” she said.
“Did you hear her?” Walter still spoke with a blaring voice. “A dead language? We were right!”
Charlie glared down at the floor and shook his head.
“If she knows it’s written in a dead-people language, maybe she’s a paranormal geek too. Ask her why the demons want it so badly,” Walter continued.
“Be quiet,” Charlie hissed.
“Excuse me?” Mrs. Morales peered over her glasses.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean you. Thanks for your help.” Charlie collected the book and walked hastily out of the classroom.
“Why did you tell me to be quiet?” Walter asked once they were out in the hallway. “And why did you leave without asking her about the demons? Go back in there!”
Charlie stomped his foot. “She wouldn’t know what I was talking about, and she would probably think I was crazy!”
“She said ‘dead language.’ Weren’t you listening?”
“A dead language is a language no one uses anymore. Like Latin! And demons aren’t dead. They’re
not zombies!”
“Oh,” Walter said softly. “I didn’t know that.”
“Obviously!”
“What are we going to do now?”
“I don’t know. Maybe there’s another teacher I could talk to. Someone at the high school.” Charlie hurried past several students, but he didn’t care if they could hear him apparently talking to himself.
“Don’t go to another teacher. They won’t know,” Walter said. “What you need to do is scan the pages onto your computer.”
Charlie scoffed. “Oh, okay, you’re so brilliant.”
“You could then upload them onto your dorky website and ask your friend Mr. Willow what he thinks it is.”
Charlie started to twirl his finger next to his ear, but stopped short. “That’s actually a good idea.”
“No kidding. Don’t you have computer lab after lunch?”
“Not today. It’s only twice a week, and I’m still not allowed on the computer at home.”
“So? Just wait until they go to sleep tonight and sneak into the office. Your parents forgot to lock the door this morning after you fed your birds.”
Of course Walter had noticed that. But it was another good idea. All of a sudden, Walter was full of them. Or was he? Why wasn’t Charlie able to think straight anymore?
Charlie’s shoulders drooped. Cutting class. Sneaking out of his room. Going behind his parents’ backs. He sighed and shook his head.
“You’re turning me into a criminal.”
Later that night, when everyone else in the apartment had fallen asleep, Charlie tiptoed down the hallway and slid into the study. Immediately, the squadron of birds erupted.
“Shut them up, man!” Walter ordered.
Charlie quickly divvied out heaping handfuls of bird feed into each of the cages. The birds fell quiet, except for an occasional chirp as they ate.
“Why not a hamster or something awesome like a snake?” Walter asked. “Those dumb birds would drive me crazy.”
Charlie didn’t respond, but went to work scanning several pages of the book onto the computer. Within a few minutes, he’d successfully uploaded them onto SpiritSpy.org. After adding labels and posting a series of questions, Charlie sat back and waited for the answers to come.
The first few comments arrived from unknown sources and provided zero help.
who’s the author? one of them asked.
“Duh, it’s written in gibberish, moron!” Walter laughed.
that’s obviously spanish, said another.
“You’re obviously an idiot,” Walter fired back.
Charlie swatted a hand at his ear. “Stop making fun of them. They’re trying to help.”
Suddenly, a private message popped up.
Looks like Shadow Speech to me. Is this from that book you found? How high are your EMF readings?
“Look who it’s from!” Charlie practically squealed, then reread the message. “Shadow Speech?”
“Heard of it before?” Walter asked.
Charlie typed a response.
What sorts of books contain Shadow Speech?
The answer came after a few seconds.
Demonic books. Likely you’ve found an old tome containing instructions for warding off demons.
“This guy’s weird,” Walter muttered. “I don’t like how he talks.”
“He’s typing. And don’t call him weird. I’ve read everything he’s ever written. The man’s a genius! His reputation is worldwide.” Charlie had in fact read almost every article he had written and patterned his own research style after Wisdom’s.
Would those types of books draw the interest of demons and dark spirits? Charlie asked.
If by “draw interest” you mean “entice”—no, I don’t think so. You’re probably safe. Spirits from the Underworld rarely make a fuss over books.
“Well, that doesn’t help us,” Walter said.
Charlie held up his finger for silence as the stranger on the computer added another message.
The only instances I know in which demons are enticed by literature are when people have stumbled across the most famous Shadow Speech book of all. Which is, of course, The Summoner's Handbook. So don’t worry.
Charlie looked up from the computer and spun around, staring at the book on the desk. The Summoner’s Handbook.
“Which is…,” Walter probed.
“The book all dark creatures want. It basically holds the secrets of how to create doorways they can use to enter our world.”
“That’s stupid,” Walter said. “That demon we saw the other day was already in our world. It didn’t need a book.”
Charlie shook his head. “Typically, demons are invisible to human eyes. Most people don’t even know they exist. They’re strong in their own realms, but when they come here, they can’t do much. They’re not that powerful.”
“Not powerful? That thing was burning me!”
“You have to be made up of something the demon can touch. I didn’t feel much even when it put its hands in my chest. But by opening a gateway, demons can enter our world and walk around like they belong here. Imagine what that demon could have done if it had been running at a hundred percent. The Summoner’s Handbook would make that possible.”
“Do you really think that’s The Summoner’s Handbook?”
Charlie reached over to touch it, but stopped before his fingers grazed the cover. “Maybe.”
“And it just so happens, the most dangerous book in the world has been buried all this time in a hole behind a shopping mall?”
“I know it sounds ridiculous. But this book contains Shadow Speech. And things have been trying to attack us to get at it.”
“How can we know for sure?”
Charlie dropped his hands and typed a message to Wisdom Willows.
How would I know if I’ve found The Summoner's Handbook?
You haven’t. Trust me, Wisdom answered.
But how would I know? Charlie jabbed back.
Two minutes passed before a long answer appeared.
You have to be careful. Don’t go trying to recite any passages out loud. Shadow Speech books have a decoder page at the back, so I’ve heard, that contains characters much smaller than the rest of the writing. Stare at these words for three minutes, and you will be able to read them. Then you will understand the book in its entirety. If it is indeed The Summoner's Handbook, you’ll know by the author’s name on the cover. Igor Yad. He wrote only one book. Let me know what happens.
Walter whistled.
Charlie slumped in his chair. “Should I do it?”
“What could it hurt?”
“What if something happens like before? What if that creepy woman spirit—er, the banshee—shows up and tries to grab me again?”
“I’ll yell the secret word, and then you’ll know to stop reading,” Walter said.
“What’s the secret word?”
“Idiot! Stop reading!” Walter answered.
Charlie smiled and turned the book to the back page. Goose bumps rose on his arms as he saw much smaller characters. He became completely still as he stared at the pages. After several minutes of focusing, a slight tremor shook his hands. The written characters on the paper began to shift into different positions. Charlie froze and watched as the once-unrecognizable marks stretched and formed words he could clearly read.
“You all right?” Walter asked, but Charlie made no answer. “Grunt if you can hear me,” he ordered.
Charlie grunted.
“Good. Can you read anything yet? Grunt once for no, twice for yes.”
Charlie grunted twice.
“Oh boy.”
Charlie slowly closed the book and stared down at the cover. His breathing sped up.
“Can you read that, too?” Walter asked.
Charlie grunted twice again.
“Stop grunting. You don’t have to grunt anymore. Just answer me!”
“Yes, I can read it.”
“And?”
“Igo
r Yad,” Charlie answered.
“No way!”
“Can you read it?” Charlie asked.
“No. Nothing happened when I stared at that page.”
“Maybe it’s because you’re dead,” Charlie reasoned. He reopened the book and glanced at the pages. Eerie hand-drawn images now appeared as he riffled through. Images that hadn’t been there the other times he’d looked at it. Each of the pages contained spells or instructions on how to perform some sort of demonic ritual.
“What’s it say? No, wait, don’t tell me!” The air in the room grew thick and stagnant. The birds stopped eating, but they made no noise other than the light fluttering of their wings.
“Walter,” Charlie whispered. “I’m scared.”
“Me too. Let’s figure out how to get rid of this.”
Charlie returned his fingers to the keyboard.
“You really don’t think he waited around, do you?” Walter asked.
Charlie shrugged and typed a short phrase.
You still there?
Yes, Wisdom Willows answered almost immediately. What did you find out?
Charlie typed a one-word response.
Bingo.
You’re sure it’s The Summoner's Handbook? Wisdom asked.
It’s written by Igor Yad.
This is huge, Wisdom responded after a second’s pause. That is a dangerous book. You can’t keep it.
Should I bury it back in the hole where I found it?
No. Don’t do that. It’s not that simple, Wisdom typed. Burying the book in the hole won’t be sufficient. Someone will just find it again. Maybe we should meet up somewhere. I’d be willing to pay for travel expenses just to take a look for myself. Where do you live?
“Excellent!” Charlie rubbed his hands together. “I can’t believe Wisdom Willows is going to help us!” He reached down for the keys, but Walter raised his voice.
“Don’t tell him where you live! What if he’s some sort of psycho?”
Charlie laughed. “He’s not a psycho!”
The Afterlife Academy Page 7