“Can’t you get somebody’s permission to just borrow the relic?” Cami inquired.
“It’s not a library. They don’t let people leave with this thing,” Will said, flipping through the pages of the notebook until he found the diagram of the Undercroft. “There are three chambers under the church. Each room has a riddle that we must solve to move into the next chamber. After we pass into this third room, we reach the Keep. That’s where the relic is stored.”
Simon piped up. “I love riddles. I just finished a book of Old English riddles. Tell me what they are. I’ll bet I can solve them right now.”
Will shut the green notebook and returned it to his book bag.
“I’ll show you everything once we are in the Undercroft. There could be a few booby traps, but most of them are detailed in the book. We can probably get around them.” Will locked eyes with each of them. “So who’s with me?”
The boys were fascinated. Andrew glanced over to Cami, whose ponytail was flicking side to side as she shook her head.
“You shouldn’t do this. It’s too dangerous.”
“C’mon, Cami. We need you. It’ll be an adventure,” Will pleaded.
But Cami had already seen her brother’s bus pulling up outside the window. A ramp was unfolding from its back. “I have to go,” she said, getting up. “You shouldn’t go near that relic. Did you ever think that your great-grandfather went through the trouble of building this ‘Keep’ to keep the relic where it is? Watch your back—and your front,” she told Will. “Bye, guys.” Cami grabbed her red vinyl purse from the back of her chair. Adjusting the belt of her shorts, she said, “Simon, ice cream’s on you. Told you it was another crackpot scheme.” With that, she ran out to meet her brother.
Simon and Andrew checked each other’s faces as if silently asking, Should we do this? Will could see their hesitation.
“Andrew, let’s remember: you got me into this mess. I got on the donkey because you made a bet with me.” Will laid on the guilt.
“Actually, launching your brother in the catapult was the problem,” Simon observed. “And that’s on you.”
“Me? Simon, you bet me a souvenir to gallop that old donkey. You know it’s true. The donkey threw me, and I accidentally hit the catapult lever.”
The two boys stewed in a guilty silence.
“Leo would be fine today if it weren’t for the two of you,” Will charged. Then he closed the deal. “If you want to go on the trip to Florida, you’ll help me get the relic. If not, we can all stay here…all summer long. It’s up to you.”
“All right, all right. I’m in.” Andrew smiled in his goofy way, punching Will a bit too hard in the arm.
“May I study the notebook tonight?” Simon asked, eyeing the book bag.
“Nope. Are you in or not? You can study it all you want tomorrow.”
Simon took another sip of his milk shake. “I’ll be there. What time do we meet?”
A huge black cat with tangled fur and sparkling green eyes nuzzled Will’s leg. He jumped at its touch.
“Oh, Miss Jackie, always trying to get away,” said a rotund waitress with a thick drawl, appearing next to the table. She wore a large frilly white apron and a doily in her cherry-red bouffant. With one quick scoop, she caught the cat in her meaty arm. “Miss Jackie is an active one. Don’t mind her none. Can I get you boys anythin’ else? We got some yummy blackberry pie out back.”
“No thanks,” Will said briskly.
“Well, y’all get back to your business. My name’s Miss Ravinia if y’all need anything.” The cat hissed and cut its eyes at Will as it was carried away.
“Tomorrow morning be at the shoreline near the church at nine a.m. sharp. You should both bring some rope, flashlights, and maybe your scout knives. It’ll be an adventure. With the notebook, how hard can it be?”
Outside, Cami rolled her brother Max’s wheelchair toward their home a few blocks away. His matted brown hair was evidence that he had fallen asleep during the bus ride from camp. Now fully awake, the boy excitedly thrashed his head from side to side. He often did this when he had something to say. In addition to his muscular dystrophy, Max had mild autism, which inhibited his speech. As she pushed him Cami patiently listened for the words she knew were coming. So many times she had seen other children make fun of the nine-year-old boy’s disability. They were blind to his sweetness, his gentleness, his understanding. They only saw the immobile right arm and the withered limbs, a kid in a wheelchair who at times struggled for breath. Cami saw much more. She knew the real Max Meriwether, and she loved him. She rolled her brother in and out of the shadows stretching from the oaks overhead.
“Dream. I had a bad dream,” Max almost sang in a flat tone, tapping his left hand on the wheelchair arm.
“What kind of dream?” Cami asked, playing along. “Were there hobbits?” Max had repeatedly watched the animated Hobbit movie and often talked of hobbits.
“No hobbits. It was a bad dream! I fell into water. Down, down I went…and the bad one took the sparkly gold treasure. The bad one took it.”
Cami ran around the front of the wheelchair and bent down to Max’s level.
“Where was the gold treasure, Max?”
He shook his head, clenching his teeth. “In the gray castle. The sparkly gold treasure was in the gray castle. But the bad one took it and I fell underwater.”
“Who is the bad one, Max?”
His watering eyes locked on hers. He shook his head as if afraid to speak. Then, in panic, he cried, “Sinestri. Sinestri. All the voices say ‘Sinestri.’ ”
Wednesday morning Will filled his book bag with some rope from the garage, a water bottle, his crank flashlight, a Swiss Army knife, a small ax, and his great-grandfather’s green notebook—which was placed in a ziplock bag and shoved into a side compartment. He was hunched over the bag when Leo, arm still in a sling, padded into Will’s bedroom.
“What are you packing for?” Leo asked.
Will startled at his brother’s sudden appearance. “Just some stuff I need for today. You know, for gardening.”
“You need a flashlight and a rope to garden? What are you doing, Will?”
“Nothing,” he said aggressively. “I’m gardening. It’s a punishment for hurting my little brother, remember?”
“It’s a lot more fun than what we’re doing. Marin and I have to go to the museum to look at some new exhibit with Mom later.” Leo closed the door, blocking his brother’s exit. His eyes glistened neon blue behind his wire-frame glasses. “I have a question. What did you see in the den the other night?”
“I’m not sure. Some kind of junk falling from the ceiling, but when we went back in it was totally gone.”
“Where did it come from?” Leo asked.
“I don’t know! It dropped into the den like rain. I saw it,” Will said, closing his book bag and checking the alarm clock. It was 8:32.
“Mom and Dad say we shouldn’t be worried and that maybe you imagined it.” Leo twisted the sleeve of his blue pajamas. “I heard the stuff hitting the house when we were watching TV before you came home. I heard it falling in the den too. I’m worried, Will.” Leo threw his cast-free arm around his brother, locking him in a bear hug.
“I have to go, but don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine. And I’ll bet by the end of the day you won’t even have to wear that cast anymore.”
Leo released Will. His brow wrinkled. “How is that going to happen?”
“I have a plan. You’ll find out later. Just keep your mouth shut, and don’t tell Mom and Dad about what I have in the bag, okay?”
Leo nodded and let Will open the door.
In the kitchen, Deborah sat at the table, finishing up a plate of eggs while Dan intently stared at the small TV hanging under the cabinets. Even without makeup, Deborah glowed in the morning. She pushed the bangs from her eyes to get a clear view of Will.
“I’m off for another fun day of manual labor,” Will announced sarcastically.
>
“Come here,” his mother said, embracing him. “It won’t be too much longer. Just think of the good you’re doing.”
“Shh. Be quiet,” Dan snapped, without taking his eyes off the television. He turned up the volume.
“We are just learning of this tragic accident. Let’s go live to Herb Lassiter, who is at the Perilous River. Herb?”
As if caught in a tractor beam by the television, Deborah rose from the table, pulling her terry cloth robe together. “Herb covers homicides at the station—crimes, not accidents. This won’t be good.”
On the screen, a middle-aged man with a bushy mustache and wispy, slicked-back hair clutched his microphone solemnly. “Bob, it is a sad scene, unlike any I have witnessed in my twenty-five-year career. An early morning fishing trip, a chance to enjoy the outdoors with friends, has turned deadly for at least two young campers. Members of the Wheelie Camp Club, a summer camp for physically challenged youth, went to Gareb Pier this morning for an outing. Shortly after casting their lines in the river—the unexpected occurred.”
A shaken camp counselor, a dripping-wet teenage girl with hair pasted to her forehead, appeared on-screen.
“I don’t know what caused it. We were out on the pier and it felt like a big submarine or something hit it. We couldn’t see anything. There was a boom and everybody fell into the water. The pier just, like, collapsed. Most of our campers are wheelchair-bound, and it was just John and me, and we didn’t know what was going on.” The girl collapsed into tears.
Herb Lassiter, looking grave, was back on-screen. “Nearly all the campers are now accounted for. As we reported earlier, at least two have been declared dead. Authorities are not identifying the victims or giving us any details about the cause of those deaths. Lots to unravel here in the hours ahead. A couple of the campers I spoke with before they were ushered away by police told me that they were attacked by what they called ‘gator creatures.’ They used the word ‘creatures.’ Neither the sheriff nor Mayor Ava Lynch’s office will comment at this time. This is the third tragedy of this type in the past week on the Perilous River. The families of the victims are demanding answers and a response from city hall. We’ll bring you the latest as we learn it. Reporting from what was Gareb Pier, I’m Herb Lassiter.”
Dan Wilder grabbed his black suit jacket off the back of a kitchen chair and stumbled toward the door, visibly shaken. “Don’t—don’t go to the churchyard today, Will. Your punishment can start again tomorrow.”
Will reached for his book bag. “I promised Mr. Shen I would be there. I’ll be way upriver from the pier.”
“Just—just—stay away from the water,” Dan cautioned, heading for the garage door. He stopped at the threshold, doubled back into the kitchen, and gave Deb a peck on the cheek. “I have to get to work. This is unbelievable.”
Will had already smashed his pith helmet on his head and had one foot out the front door. “Bye, Dad. Later, Mom,” he said, bolting.
It was 8:50 by the time a breathless Will reached the yard at St. Thomas. Things couldn’t have been more tranquil. The unplanted trees lay scattered around the clearing, with only Mr. Shen’s walking stick standing at attention. Will anxiously ran to the edge of the lawn and peered down the sloping riverbank. No sign of Captain Balor or Mr. Shen.
He jogged up to the church to check if Shen was there. Empty. Will knocked on the door of the small stone rectory where the old man lived. No answer. At any moment his friends and the Captain were due to arrive. If Shen caught them, they’d never make it into the Undercroft and the entire mission would be over before it began.
Will decided to busy himself by watering the stick, then by digging a hole in the yard. Appearing to be following orders was always a good strategy. No sooner had he driven the shovel into the ground than he felt an ominous presence behind him. Will grabbed the spade with two hands, raised it, and turned quickly.
In a flash, Tobias Shen smacked each of Will’s hands so rapidly that the shovel flew across the yard.
“Jumpy, Mr. Wilder.” Tobias Shen stood before Will like a stone statue in his billowy gray uniform. “What troubles you?”
Will could not believe that Shen had so easily disarmed him. “How’d you do that?”
“By following instructions; day by day listening carefully to older and wiser people.”
“Yeah, but you barely touched my hands,” Will said, still surprised by the sudden kung fu display.
Shen wrinkled his nose. “All things come with obedience. One thing mastered, then another. Now you can master burying trees, please. I have something I must do.”
Unexpectedly, Will blurted, “Let me come with you. Are you going to the pier?”
Shen paused and seemed to consider the request. “Dig, dig, dig, Mr. Wilder. Fulfilling our duties protects us. Chasing excitement leads to bad ends.” Shen hastily moved toward the thicket of trees that led downriver.
“Where are you going?” Will yelled.
“Down the path I must travel. I’ll return shortly. Dig! Dig!”
As soon as Shen had vanished into the trees, Will walked over to the shovel. He stared down at it for several minutes. Why was he always the one left behind, the one punished with manual labor, the one whose questions no one would answer? I’ll show them. When I get the relic, they’ll see what I can do. Why should Mr. Shen be the only one to touch it, the only one to use its power? He angrily kicked the shovel down the riverbank. It slid along the gravel and into the riled waters. All Will wanted was a little adventure and a chance to make things right on his own terms. What was wrong with that?
The smack of a speedboat beating its way through the choppy river water pulled Will from his thoughts. Captain Balor was coming! The boy ran to the edge of the yard, searching the river. His shoulders slumped as he recognized the approaching pale blue boat with gleaming brass railings. It was the Stella Maris, Aunt Lucille’s prized vessel, slicing the waves at breathtaking speed. “Will, dear, I wanted to be sure you were safe,” Lucille called out from behind the wheel of the boat, holding a teacup in her left hand. She was going so fast she had to cut the wheel to the left, creating a massive wave to slow down.
“You’re in a hurry,” Will said.
“I am. Are you all right?” she asked, taking a quick sip from her cup. “You’re not seeing anything strange, are you? Shadows?”
“Nope. Just trees and sticks.” Will pointed over his shoulder with a thumb.
“Good. You should come to Peniel this afternoon. It’s time I showed you the book—the one that belonged to your great-grandfather. I’ll come back for you later,” Lucille said as the boat engine purred.
Will nodded and nervously looked down the shore, certain that it must be nearly nine o’clock.
“What happened downriver is not natural, Will. None of these incidents were accidental. Bartimaeus and I are going to investigate.” She spoke anxiously, tugging at the top of her teal silk jacket with a high collar—the way a military man might just before entering the field of battle. “You stay on high land. Did Tobias already leave?”
Will told her he had. Aunt Lucille threw him a kiss, took another sip from her cup, and sped downriver in moments.
Now Will was torn. Aunt Lucille had ordered him to stay on high land, but if he didn’t go near the river he would miss his only chance to get the relic—a chance to heal his brother….
On each side of him, tall shadows like specters suddenly materialized. He felt cold all over. Escaping the shadows, he plunged down the riverbank. He ran toward the point where the church’s foundation touched the water. Looking over his shoulder as he ran, Will could see the dark forms pursuing him. When he faced forward, he ran smack into the Captain.
Nep Balor stood calf-deep in the muck of the river beside the church. He glared at Will. “Our time is short, lad.” Though wearing his old slicker and hat, the Captain seemed taller and wider than before. Or maybe he only looked that way because Will was standing so close.
Balor’
s yellowed eye scanned the boy’s face. “We must move before the tide rises.” The Captain spun around and started walking along the wall of the church facing the river. “Well, are yeh coming?”
Will checked to make sure that the shadows were not still pursuing him. They had vanished. “What if Mr. Shen comes back? Or my aunt Lucille?” Will stood his ground on the gravel near the corner of the building.
“They’ll be occupied for some time. Passed that accident downriver this morning—horrible, horrible things there. We’d best be getting yeh into that church. Don’t want ye in these waters for any longer than ye need be.”
“What happened to those kids downriver, Captain?”
“There’s no time for ye questions!” Balor roared, sounding as if three people were speaking from within him at once. “Do ye want the relic or not? We’re risking our own hide here as well!”
“I shouldn’t go in the water.”
Rage filled Captain Balor’s open eye. He clenched his massive fists, and his mouth gaped wide as if he were about to yell. Then he shut his purple lips, swallowing his anger. Wading through the marsh toward Will, he gently rasped, “Ye don’t have to fear, boy. We know these waters. Get on our back—walk ye to the Undercroft ourself. Time is short!”
Captain Balor turned his back to Will and lowered his enormous frame. Without turning, he said, “A little while now and ye’ll have what Shen’s been keeping from yeh. Ye’ll know what yer aunt Lucille won’t tell yeh. Think of the look on yer father’s face when yer brother’s arm is healed—totally healed. And our eye, Will.” The Captain swiveled his head to the left, projecting the bulging, pus-sticky eye right into the boy’s face. “I’ll be able to see again, lad. Oh, what a moment. But we must be quick. Grab on!”
Will impetuously threw his arms over the Captain’s shoulders, pressing his face against the dirty slicker. He rose six feet in the air. At this proximity, Balor smelled like rancid fish bait. As they moved, Will’s chest was pulverized by the ridges of back muscle writhing beneath the Captain’s slicker. The pounding of the muscles all but knocked the wind from his chest. Several times his pith helmet nearly fell into the muck. Within moments they arrived at a rounded, stone-edged opening on the church wall. Its interior was covered in green slime reaching to the ceiling. Water obviously filled the cavern daily.
Will Wilder Page 9