Will Wilder

by Raymond Arroyo

  “Where is the relic now?” Lucille crouched down, moving Deborah aside. She took Will by the arms, her voice shaky. “Where is the relic? This is not a game, Will.”

  “The Captain knocked me over. He took it.”

  “Don’t lie. You must have brought it to him! You’re the only one who could have reached the Keep—using my father’s notebook!” She jumped up, clapping her hands together vehemently. “Awwww, Will. We’ve got to get it back. Who is this Captain? Where did he go? Where did this Captain GO?”

  Will confessed everything: how he had plotted to steal the relic, made a deal with Captain Balor, solved the riddles of the chambers using the notebook—how the Captain had met him at the river, transformed into a demon, paralyzed him with that “oozing eye,” and snatched the St. Thomas relic. Aunt Lucille stroked her knuckles beneath her chin, listening to all Will had seen and done.

  When he had finished, after a few seconds of silence, Deb Wilder turned away from her son, whispering to Aunt Lucille, “Do you think he’s hallucinating? I wonder if he was struck on the head by a tree limb or something.”

  “I wish it were that simple, dear.” Lucille looked Deb straight in the eye. “It’s all true. Everything he’s said is true.”

  Deborah flashed her hundred-kilowatt TV smile. “You believe that demon creatures are running around the river, stealing relics from little boys? Come on, Lucille.”

  Lucille raised a single porcelain finger, tapping it down with each syllable. “Every word is true. The things he sees are real. You must trust me now, Deborah. Will has a gift. I am going to need his help to save Perilous Falls—and perhaps the world.”

  “You’re not making sense. He doesn’t listen to anyone. Look at the trouble he’s already caused.”

  “Perhaps it was supposed to happen this way. All of it. Mistakes are at times the doorway of destiny.”

  Leo picked up the pith helmet and returned it to Will. He threw both arms, even the one in the cast, around his brother. “I knew it would work,” he said, looking up at Will. “I knew the mantle would wake you up.”

  “You’re a good brother, Leo. Better be careful with that arm.”

  “My arm’s all healed. Look!” Leo raised and lowered his right arm with ease. “The mantle probably did that too.”

  Will couldn’t believe what he was seeing. But before he could ask Leo another question, the raised voices of his mother and Aunt Lucille intruded. The two women were eye to eye, their argument getting ugly. Will wriggled free of his brother’s grasp and went over to them.

  “There isn’t much time, Deborah!” Aunt Lucille insisted, her strawberry-blond curls shaking indignantly. “We need to go now.”

  “Well, he’s not going with you.” Deborah clutched Will’s arm to underscore her point. “He was in the river, Lucille! He could have drowned.”

  “I will be with him. I would give my life to protect him.”

  “And who is going to protect you, Lucille? You’re a sixty-six-year-old woman. And I’m supposed to allow you and my twelve-year-old to sail into a hurricane and snatch a relic from—what?—a thug riverboat captain, whom my son thinks is a demon? No, thank you. Dan was right. Will should have stayed at home. And he is staying here with me.”

  “Deborah!” Aunt Lucille shrieked as no one had heard her shriek before. “Will can see things the rest of us cannot. He is a Seer.”

  “That’s just what the Captain called me. He called me a Seer!” Will exploded.

  “The muddy shadows he saw as a child, the fleeting blurs of darkness, are becoming clearer to him,” Aunt Lucille continued. “He sees what we accept on faith. He saw this demon. It is his gift, Deborah, and as much as I would like to keep him from using it, there is no other way.” Emotion welled up in her voice. “I know—more than most—the grave consequences of exposing a gift…but we have no choice. That demon is out there whether we see it or not. Will can see it! If we do nothing, it will destroy this town and take many, many lives.”

  Deborah stiffened. “What are you and Will going to do?”

  “We will do what I have done all my life. We will fight the Enemy—the Sinestri. The major demons.”

  Deborah rolled her eyes and walked in a circle. “Do you even hear yourself? Demons and enemies…He could have been killed, he and his friends—” She stopped in midsentence. “Will, where are Simon and Andrew?” Deborah asked.

  Will’s guilty glance traveled to the open golden door near the altar of the church. “They’re trapped in the last chamber. It’s flooded, but they know how to get out, Mom. All they have to do is turn the St. Thomas statue around.”

  “When were you going to share this information with us?” Deborah clopped down the main aisle toward the altar and the trapped boys. Leo trailed after her, carefully folding Elijah’s mantle as he went. Marin wasn’t far behind. Will meant to follow them, but Aunt Lucille held him back.

  “They can stay here and help your friends. You must come with me now,” she said, steel in her tone. “We have to stop this Captain of yours. I have a hunch where he went. I’ll explain on the way. If we don’t get there soon, Tobias Shen and countless others will die.”

  “He’s really dangerous, Aunt Lucille. He smacked me pretty hard.” Will rubbed the side of his face, which was still red from the blow. “And he’s got that eye!”

  “I know exactly what we are dealing with,” Lucille assured him. “Believe me, I have means of protecting you.”

  Will so wanted to remain in the church with his mother and siblings and friends. But he knew that his actions had set events into motion that he had to correct. However foggy his vision, Will had seen the beast up close. He could only imagine the damage it would do now without the relic’s protecting the town. It had to be stopped. Then there was the voice he had heard when Elijah’s mantle covered his face….

  “Deborah, I’ll have Will back as soon as I can,” Aunt Lucille announced, slipping on her raincoat. “We’re headed to Dismal Shoals.”

  “No, you are not! You are not!” Deborah turned heel and headed back down the aisle.

  “Will should decide what he wants to do. It is his path. Time is of the essence.” Lucille held the door open at the rear of the church, rain splattering inside.

  Will carefully placed his pith helmet on his head. “Mom, I have to go. I saw this thing, and I delivered the relic to him. I’ve got to try to get it back.”

  “If we don’t retrieve the relic of St. Thomas, this town will flood,” Aunt Lucille said rapidly. “Unspeakable things will devour all of us. Do you want to be responsible for that, Deborah?”

  Deborah Wilder looked thoroughly confused. Her anger faded into resignation. She ran over to Will and locked him in an embrace. “Go. But be careful. And Lucille, you bring my boy back.”

  “I will, dear. Or he will bring me back. We’ll see you all in a jiffy either way.” Lucille turned her attention down the aisle of the church. “Oh, and Leo, keep hold of that mantle. It is irreplaceable—and the property of Peniel.”

  Leo bashfully nodded from the other end of the church.

  Aunt Lucille and Will exited through the solid church doors and stepped into the tempest.

  “Mommy, you’d better come see this,” Leo exclaimed, staring into the open gold-edged doorway next to the altar. He and Marin wore stricken looks.

  Deborah Wilder rushed down the aisle. From inside the open chamber she could hear the sounds of inhuman, guttural hissing and the high-pitched screams of a boy in distress.

  Dan Wilder squirmed uncomfortably in a stiff leather chair facing Mayor Ava Lynch’s rat-gray desk. In the other red leather chair sat Heinrich Crinshaw, tapping a fountain pen against his front teeth.

  Mayor Lynch stood over the two men, both hands planted on her desktop, explaining her plans for the investigative task force.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of assembling identical folders so we can get right to work.” Her heavily made up eyes indicated two manila folders at the edge of the
desk.

  “Inside you’ll find the identities of some figures who were in the vicinity of the crime scenes along the river. For some inexplicable reason, law enforcement failed to properly investigate these people. We will make no such mistakes.” She lowered herself into the high-backed red leather chair behind the desk, crossing her legs. “Go on, read your briefing reports. I know them inside out.”

  Behind the mayor, through the huge double windows of her office, dark skies unleashed a hellish rain on the town. It was so dark that Dan Wilder couldn’t help but stare outside.

  “Dan, read the report,” Mayor Lynch ordered. “We need to assign cases and jump on this investigation before the trail goes cold.”

  Dan adjusted his tortoiseshell glasses and leafed through the folder. He didn’t recognize the first four of five people pictured, and the one-page descriptions didn’t help either. “Ava, I don’t, uh, see how we can investigate all these…Where did you get these names? I mean, we just authorized the task force. How did you pull this together so…fast?”

  “You should know me well enough by now, Danny. Before any vote, plans have to be in motion.” Mayor Lynch leaned back in her chair. “After you review all the individuals in your folder, I think you’ll agree that Sheriff Stout and his deputies were negligent. They just didn’t interview enough people, sugar. The net must be thrown wide until we solve these cases.”

  Dan bolted upright. “Ava, in every case, the victims were attacked by something in the river—an animal—a gator, or a…a…creature. It wasn’t an individual. There wasn’t a plot….Do you think an individual—a person—did this?”

  “Well, I don’t know, Dan.” The mayor could not have been more serene. She fiddled with her diamond-studded earring. “That’s why we’re having an investigation. What is there to fear from an investigation? The truth does set us free, after all.”

  “But it was clearly an animal or something. It isn’t as if someone unleashed these gator things into the river.” Dan smiled to underscore the ludicrous nature of the suggestion. No smiles were returned.

  “That is an interesting suggestion, Dan. Some crazy person could very well have released these killer crocodiles into the river. Who’s to say? I just don’t know why the sheriff’s office wouldn’t pursue any and all leads,” the mayor said.

  “Maybe because they…have nothing to do with these cases. This seems like a huge waste of time to me. As I said in the council room, we are amateurs. The sheriff probably eliminated these people because they’re innocent. None of these folks strike me as criminals.” A crack of thunder outside drew Dan’s attention back to the window behind the mayor.

  “So now you’re a psychic? You know who’s guilty and not guilty? Who needs a criminal justice system when we have Dan Wilder?” The mayor let out a throaty laugh. “Just read the names in the briefing report.”

  Dan was on his feet near the window. The hundred-year-old trees on the front lawn of city hall were beginning to arch under the pounding of the storm. He had never seen rain like this.

  “Dan, are you even listening to me?” Mayor Lynch asked. She shot Crinshaw a bothered look.

  “I just don’t see how we can investigate people…who, uh…people who…” Dan was speaking, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. “What criteria did you use to come up with these names—these persons of interest? These people are innocent.”

  “How do you know they are innocent?” The mayor swiveled in her chair, looking miffed that Dan had turned his back to the room, pressing his face to the window. “Were you ever at the crime scenes, Dan?”

  “Wh-wh-what are you implying?” Dan turned to her for a moment.

  “I’m not implying a thing. Just wondering if you’ve been near any of the crime scenes? Otherwise you best read that folder.”

  “I will in a minute. The weather is really—really…bad.” Outside the window, a manhole cover wobbled in the parking lot, arresting his attention. The round metal cover jumped as water spurted from its sides. One edge of the lid slowly rose higher and higher.

  “This is interesting,” Heinrich Crinshaw said, reading the folder on his lap. “Tobias Shen, the groundskeeper at St. Thomas Church…He was spotted at two of the crime scenes but never interviewed by your pal Stout.”

  Dan tried to focus on the conversation. “Tobias Shen had nothing to do with this. He—he’s a decrepit old man my son’s been helping plant trees—”

  “Your son was helping this man—this Shen, Dan?” Mayor Lynch inquired, her eyes narrowing.

  “He…uh…Will, he helps a lot of people.” Dan started to sweat.

  “How did he meet Mr. Shen?”

  “I don’t remember….” The lightning made Dan turn toward the window once more.

  Mayor Lynch threw open her own copy of the report. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with your aunt Lucille, would it? Funny how she was at the crime scene today—motoring around in her little boat.”

  From beneath the elevated manhole cover, Dan could see a scaly snout emerging. He anxiously smoothed down his hair at the sides.

  “Did your aunt Lucille arrange for your son to help this Shen person? Does she know him?”

  Dan was paralyzed by what he saw outside the window. “Fo-Fo-Fomorii. Fomorii,” Dan stuttered under his breath.

  “For who? For Maury? Who’s Maury?” Mayor Lynch asked.

  Dan Wilder was fixated on the office window. In the parking lot, the front half of a Bottom Dweller flopped out of the manhole, sending the cover clattering on its side. Soon bubbling water carried the scaled creature’s entire body to the surface. Behind it were claws and more Bottom Dwellers. Dan watched at least eight escape the manhole and scamper toward downtown.

  Then what appeared at first to be mounds of black goo came out of the hole. But as Dan squinted he realized the goo had shape and form. A cascade of slimy long-limbed creatures exited the manhole. A small tan dog lost in the rain began barking at the gooey beings. All at once, one of the black slimy bodies, like a wave, crashed over the dog and it was gone. No barks, no yelps. Just the black goo creatures leaping forward as they had before.

  Glancing down to the end of the front lawn, Dan could not see the curb. Main Street was already flooded.

  “I’ve got to go.” Dan tossed the folder of suspicious persons back on the mayor’s desk. Pictures skittered across the glass top and onto the floor.

  “Go where?” Crinshaw asked. “What’s the rush?”

  “Look at the—the weather. I’ll be back later.” Dan fled the room.

  An intrigued Mayor Lynch watched him leave. She bent over and picked up a stray picture that had flown from Dan’s folder: a fuzzy shot of Lucille Wilder in her boat on the river. She held it up as if looking at an X-ray.

  “Hen, sugar, call the motor pool and get us a driver and a photographer. People we can trust. I want to go down to the river now.”

  Crinshaw was out of his seat, worriedly considering the storm outside. “Why do we have to go now? It’s flooding. There may be wisdom in waiting until the storm passes.”

  “Dan got awfully jumpy when I brought up Lucille and his son. An informant tells me that Lucille Wilder has been chugging up and down that river all day with other suspicious individuals. She’s out there right now. We want to catch her in the act. How much you want to bet these Wilders are more involved in this trouble at the river than meets the eye?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Instinct, Hen.” Mayor Lynch shoved the picture of Lucille Wilder into the folder, smacking it shut. “Instinct.”

  High waves and sheeting rain rocked the Stella Maris, slowing her progress. The stinging spray hit Will and Aunt Lucille from all sides as they bounced upon the Perilous River. Even with the Plexiglas windshield in place, there was no escaping the wet assault.

  “So where is this Dismal Shoals place?” Will yelled to be heard. He wore an oversized yellow slicker he had found on board the boat.

  “It’s a few miles d
ownriver.” Aunt Lucille kept her hands firmly on the wheel, and her focus on negotiating the rough waters. “Dismal Shoals is an old pagan site—a ruined temple. It’s been abandoned for decades.” Aunt Lucille checked Will’s reaction. “If your Captain is the demon you think he is, he could well be sheltering there. It is said to contain a Hell Mouth, a portal to the underworld. My father used to call it a ‘watery doorway to hell.’ ”

  “And it’s here—near Perilous Falls?” Will swallowed hard. “How do we know Captain Balor will be there?”

  “We don’t. But it’s where Bartimaeus believed the demon was headed when it very likely kidnapped Tobias—and it would be a logical place for him to dispose of the St. Thomas relic. Of course, there is always Wormwood….”

  “How does Mr. Bartimaeus know where the Captain went? And why would the Captain take Mr. Shen and the relic to this Shoals place?”

  “Listen very closely, dear. We haven’t much time.” Aunt Lucille pulled him near while piloting the boat. She raised her voice to compete with the storm. “Like you, Bartimaeus has a gift. He is a Sensitive. He can prophesy. Many times he intuits events and foresees their outcomes. Bart had a strong sense that the demon was headed to Dismal Shoals. It would be the ideal spot for a demon to destroy a holy object. Once the relic is gone, your Captain probably hopes Perilous Falls will be drowned in this deluge. He has already released the Fomorii, which explains all the violence on the river.”

  “Wait, wait—who are the Fomorii?” Will’s hands were shaking. He popped a handful of mints into his mouth, which he sometimes did to calm his nerves.

  “The Fomorii are a legion of water creatures—they’re minor demons, actually—vicious killers under the control of a major demon,” said Aunt Lucille nonchalantly.

  “The major demon that I gave the relic to?”

  “Very likely.”

  “How did he release the For—For—whatever they are?”

  “The Fomorii,” Aunt Lucille said, smirking. “These particular creatures—the Bottom Dwellers—are very agile and destructive. I’ve seen them. But there are other species of Fomorii—all commanded by a major demon who, through its own power, can release them from the depths at will.”