Will Wilder

by Raymond Arroyo

  “Makes sense. Makes total sense,” Bartimaeus said, tapping his crutches against the ground. He turned to Aunt Lucille.

  “So about fifteen minutes after you dropped me off, you won’t believe what I saw. I felt this coldness, so I knew something bad was coming. Stank to high heaven—which is always a tell with the major demons. I’m hiding up in here and whoop—who comes flying by upside down? Tobias Shen! He’s struggling—but couldn’t move too much. I knew a demon had him. Dragged him right into that old pagan temple over there.”

  Will’s nose itched. What did the demon do to Mr. Shen? he thought. What will he do to Aunt Lucille and me? Will felt icy all over.

  “About twenty minutes later, this cage comes out of the temple and floats right by me. Big long thing—probably used in their pagan rituals back in the day. So a little after that, zooop—the cage comes back through here. Only this time it had a reliquary inside it. I was thinking, ‘That looked just like the one from St. Thomas Church.’ Now I know it is.” Bartimaeus stared out of the cave with a grim look. “Once the relic went in, Fomorii came pouring out that old temple. Bottom Dwellers and Stickers everywhere. Hundreds of ’em. I thought, ‘Oh, bless you, Perilous Falls, because you’re in for a world of trouble.’ ”

  “Tell me about Levia—that demon whose name I can’t say?” Will asked.

  Bartimaeus looked down at the ground, scratching his head with his big mitts. “Lord, now that one’s nothing but trouble.”

  Aunt Lucille interjected in her clipped manner: “The creature you asked about is the twisted serpent, an ancient demon who has been given the watery realms. Some demonologists contend that his purpose is to stoke envy in the hearts of men and drive them into the pit of loneliness and despair.” She put an arm around Will. “My father told us that this demon guards the Hell Mouth, an entry to the Inferno—and not the only one. In truth, you know more about this Beast than any of us. You have seen it, dear. Now you must resist its invitations. It will doubtless try to deceive you again.”

  “Oh, no, Aunt Lucille, I’m onto his tricks this time,” Will bluffed.

  “That’s the kind of talk can get ya killed. You don’t play with a demon, son. Look here.” Bartimaeus hitched his pant legs up, revealing webs of raised pink scars on his dark skin. They crisscrossed over both of his bent legs. “So you mess with demons and you pay the price. Ya got me?”

  Will bobbed his head.

  “All you have to do, Will, is tell me what you see, grab the relic, and get out. Nothing else,” Aunt Lucille said, checking the two holy-water vials attached to her belt. In a swift gesture, she popped her rain hat back on her head. “We’d better be going. No telling what condition poor Tobias is in.”

  “Lucille, you shouldn’t go into that cave without a Vanquisher. That thing’s been yowling somethin’ fierce.”

  Aunt Lucille was already up and stepping into the rain. “There’s no time to go back to Peniel. We’ve already waited too long. With Will’s eyes I can handle this.”

  Bartimaeus and Lucille turned to Will, who remained seated on the crumbling log. His usual pluck and determination had vanished. He could only summon a look of uncertainty. “I’m ready,” he said, nodding awkwardly beneath his pith helmet, suddenly looking younger than twelve.

  Aunt Lucille jumped out of the grotto onto a rock formation and approached the dimly lit entryway at the center of the dilapidated temple ruins. One of Bartimaeus’s walking sticks blocked Will from following her.

  “Not a word to that devil. You hear me, boy? Get the relic and get out of there.” He rested a hand on Will’s arm. Squinting, he trained two milky eyes on the boy. “I’ll be with ya in spirit. Believe—and there is nothin’ you can’t do. Now go ahead.”

  Will mumbled a “Yes, sir,” and sprinted off after Aunt Lucille, his red sneakers slipping on the rocks outside.

  Cracked, mold-covered columns and half-submerged statues carrying tridents surrounded the collapsed opening. Much of the marble facade had sunken into the marshy ground. From inside Will could hear the deep, sticky voice he knew too well.

  “That’s him. It’s Captain Balor,” the boy said, ducking into the glowing mouth of the temple ahead of his great-aunt.

  “Will,” Aunt Lucille pointedly whispered, stomping a foot on the ground. “Behind me. The Fomorii could be anywhere. Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut—behind me!”

  As Will opened his mouth to speak, a sneeze formed. “AH…AH—” To muffle the sound, he brought both hands to his face.

  “And please keep that under wraps,” Aunt Lucille said softly, walking past him.

  Nature had reclaimed the hallway once lined with marble. Muddy roots covered the walls, and water dripped from the ceiling. Puddles formed on the broken tiles below. The only barely discernible light came from deep within the dank corridor.

  Advancing down the main passage, Will was disturbed by the dark caverns and niches on either side. He kept searching the blackness of the side grottos, worried that something was lurking there. After a few minutes, curiosity got the best of him. He leaned next to Aunt Lucille’s ear.

  “Can I use my flashlight?”

  The woman startled, placing her fingers into a triangle formation. She quickly relaxed.

  “No, William. Walk, dear, and only speak if you see something.”

  “I can’t see down these side halls at all.”

  “Shhhh.” Lucille touched her index fingers and thumbs together just in case they encountered any surprises.

  BLUB…BLUB…BLUB…

  Will got close to Aunt Lucille’s ear again. “Do you hear that?”

  “Do I hear what?”

  “That!”

  BLUB…BLUB…BLUB…It seemed to be speeding up.

  “It’s very likely a fountain dripping down that passageway there,” said Aunt Lucille, dismissively waving a hand at one of the side tunnels. She continued down the corridor toward the firelight.

  Will stopped and stared down the side shaft. He saw nothing but an impenetrable inkiness. A deep, dark blackness. It puzzled him because the sound was so clear, so close he could almost touch it.

  BLUB…BLUB…BLUB…BLUB…

  This time the noise caused Aunt Lucille to spin around in an instant.

  “Will, get down,” she ordered in a harsh whisper.

  Her fingers in the triangle formation, Aunt Lucille extended her arms. A ray of red light shot from her hands over Will’s pith helmet. It struck the dead center of the side hallway. In the illumination, Will realized that he had not been staring into darkness, but at the midsection of a Sticker hanging from the passageway in front of him. The neon-red ray hit the middle of the creature’s body, creating an ashy blossom whose petals soon spread in all directions. In seconds, the thing was transformed to ash. Aunt Lucille dropped her hands.

  “Blow on it,” she said.

  Will teetered up. When he blew on the Sticker’s ashen form, it fluttered and crumbled to the ground. Will jumped backward to keep the remains from dusting his sneakers.

  “Don’t linger, and stay close,” Aunt Lucille instructed. She held her lightly touching fingers out like a weapon and moved toward the firelight. Will was practically on her back this time.

  Every so often a stalactite obstructed their view as they descended to the subterranean center of the temple.

  A chorus of accusatory voices spilled from the main chamber. At times the voices spoke individually, at other moments in unison. “…Ye will now hear the pained cries we once heard when yeh destroyed our temples. Do ye remember, Shen? Ye were more energetic in those days. Time for ye and the whole putrid Brethren to taste death. As soon as the waves sweep over that fortress on the hill, the faithless cries will go up from yer people. We can’t—”

  Suddenly a new voice with a high register and an almost soothing tone took over. “Oooohhh, we have visitors, Shen. Company’s come a callin’. Where are you? Show yourselves! Your timing is perfect.”

  “Perfect. Perfect.
Perfect,” a sextet of strident and gravelly voices echoed.

  “I hope my aim is perfect,” Aunt Lucille murmured.

  Will clutched his aunt’s shoulder. The determined look returned to his eyes.

  For the first time since entering the cave, Will felt a surge of confidence. He could face this demon once more and maybe even secure the relic—so long as he wasn’t eaten or burned by a Fomorii, he thought.

  In the final chamber of the Undercroft, Andrew kicked and paddled through the greasy water toward the stone platform. He was nearly there. Eight more strokes and he would reach the completely hysterical Simon, who twitched and gyrated on the elevated surface.

  “The monster is on top of you! It’s right there!” Simon’s thin arm quivered as he pointed beyond Andrew. The shaky boy jammed half his body into the stone opening just in case the Bottom Dweller devoured Andrew and started looking for dessert.

  Dan, Deborah, Leo, and Marin pressed their faces between the bars on the opposite side of the pool.

  “How can we help him, Dan?” Deborah pleaded.

  “I—I have no idea,” Dan stuttered.

  In the water, the Bottom Dweller undulated within a few feet of Andrew. Like a mad conductor, Dan tried to direct the creature, waving his arms energetically. “Go! Get away from him! No, no, no…”

  Leo covered his eyes with the Bible.

  An anxious Marin backed away from the gold grille, gasping for air, her shoulders up near her ears. She looked as if she were going to be sick. Lost in fear, Marin opened her mouth and produced an ear-stabbing, glass-breaking, make-a-dog-bury-itself scream. Her mother tried to shake the girl out of her fit, but to no avail. The high-pitched tone went on and on, Marin’s face a mask of desperation. And when she finished, Marin inhaled and let fly another sustained scream.

  A half smile crept across Dan’s face. He was still looking out at the pool. “It’s backing away—the Bottom Dweller is moving away from him,” Dan said.

  As if attached to a leash, the Bottom Dweller was whipped backward across the pool by the roof of its mouth. The creature’s jaws hyperextended and its body lifted out of the water, away from Andrew. The Dweller’s retreat gave Andrew just enough time to scramble up onto the stone platform so he could join Simon near the thin tunnel opening.

  With the immediate danger past, Marin stopped screaming. Deborah embraced her daughter, keeping a vigilant eye on the reptile beyond the bars flipping on her end of the pool. The creature soon recovered its bearings, shook its head up and down, and once more pursued the boys standing on the platform.

  Andrew jostled Simon into the opening in the wall so he could enter. But Simon wasn’t moving quickly enough. The snout of the green monster was only a few feet from the stone platform.

  “Marin, scream again, honey,” Deborah said.

  “What, Mommy?”

  “Scream, scream!” Deborah demanded.

  The child balled her fists, inhaled, and let out a screech that made the gold grille vibrate. Once more the Bottom Dweller lunged backward, flailing and yowling as it flew halfway across the pool. It obviously loathed Marin’s shrieks.

  Dan Wilder was distracted by Leo, who curiously knelt on the ground and opened the Bible near the golden bars. The boy drew Elijah’s mantle from beneath his cast.

  “What is…Wh-wh-what are you doing, son?” Dan asked. “Don’t do that….P-p-put that down, Leo. Put it away!”

  “I just want to try something, Dad.” Leo stuck the weathered fabric through the bars and glanced down at the open book.

  The Bottom Dweller caught sight of Leo’s arm poking through the grille and swiftly swam in his direction.

  Dan Wilder yanked at Leo’s shoulder. “The Bottom Dweller! Son, pull your arm in.”

  Leo could not be deterred. He held his position, reading loudly from the book on the floor, “ ‘Where is the Lord, the God of Elijah?’ ”

  The Bottom Dweller opened its lethal jaws, creating space for Leo’s arm.

  The boy shut his eyes, raised the mantle, and struck the oily water with it.

  A mighty gust of wind pushed the Wilders against the bars of the grille. Had Simon not been holding his friend’s arm, Andrew might have been swept away by the blast.

  Starting in the middle of the pool, a rush of air split the water in two halves. It shot upward along the side walls of the chamber, rolling toward the ceiling. Like an exotic fish in an aquarium, the Bottom Dweller swam in circles, trapped in the water along the left side of the chamber.

  The black granite pool had been completely emptied. Stunned and scared, the Wilders didn’t move. The water clung to the sides of the room unnaturally, like free-floating brown Jell-O.

  “You did it, Leo. You got rid of the croc monster,” Deborah squealed, holding on to Marin.

  “I guess I did.” Leo was just happy to still have his arm. He withdrew the dripping mantle to his side of the grille—and the moment he did, the levitating water in the chamber fell in a swirling gush. A raging whirlpool of water spun around the lower part of the chamber and coursed through the open iron door between the stairs. The Bottom Dweller’s head slammed into the corners and walls with such force that by the time the creature jetted through the doorway, there was no fight left in it. When the last of the oily water had evacuated, the iron door slammed shut, a bolt engaging.

  “It’s all over. You can come out now, Simon,” Andrew said, rapping on the wall behind him. “The reptile’s gone.”

  Simon clung to Andrew’s arm, but there was no movement inside the tunnel. “If it’s all right with you, I may just wait in here until an adult comes to get us. It’s kind of relaxing for me,” Simon bellowed from the hole.

  Andrew smacked the bony hand attached to his arm.

  “What’d you do that for?” said Simon, poking his head out of the tunnel. “If I hadn’t held your ungrateful arm, you would have been swallowed up by that whirlpool. Where’s the thanks? Where’s the gratitude?”

  An exhausted Andrew shuffled down the stone staircase leading to the lower level.

  “I guess you’re embarrassed to admit that I saved you from sudden death, moron,” Simon continued from atop the stone platform, tugging at the waistband of his oversized shorts. “Yeah, I can be pretty indispensable in a crisis situation. I identified the danger, found a safe haven, and then, in the darkest hour, saved a friend. Do the Boy Scouts offer some kind of medal for valor? If they do, you should nominate me for it. I mean, look, we have witnesses and everything.”

  On the black granite floor below, Andrew began yelping in a frightened voice. “Three of the reptiles are coming through the door down here. One is headed up the stairs. Come help me, Simon. Please, come help me.”

  The brave hero on the platform didn’t even respond. Instead, Simon dove into the tunnel, only his bony legs visible.

  “Well?” Andrew called out, dropping his scared routine and laughing uproariously. “I’ll give you a medal! The Yellow Heart for Cowardliness in a Crunch.”

  Dan Wilder had found some rope in the church broom closet, which he busily tied into knots inside the Keep.

  “What are you doing?” Deborah asked.

  “My thought is to lower this down. We can pull the boys up to our level. Get them out of that room.” He continued making knots in the rope.

  “Dan, why did you call those green things Bottom Dwellers?”

  “Because that’s what they are—they’re…they’re Bottom Dwellers.”

  “How did you know that?”

  He hesitated, his eyes fluttering. “I read it in a book—in a book.”

  “You’re lying.” Deborah placed her hands on her hips, suspicion filling her blue-purple eyes. “Why are you lying to me?”

  “I’m not lying.” His face turned crimson, his jaw muscles pulsing.

  “You’ve seen those things before.”

  Dan’s face betrayed him. He nodded sheepishly and resumed tying the rope.

  Deborah stopped his hands and expl
oded in a tense whisper. “Our son thinks he sees demons. He told me he broke in here, stole the relic of St. Thomas, and gave it to a demon! Leo just smacked a piece of cloth on top of a pool full of water, and it parted. It flew into the air, Dan. You saw it, and so did I.”

  Dan’s face went blank. He avoided Deborah’s glare.

  “What is going on Dan? What is happening to us?”

  “I…I…Where is Will?”

  “He’s with your aunt Lucille. Oh, and she says he has a gift. He’s a Seer.” Borderline hysterical, she searched his eyes for an answer, or even a reaction. “And are you ready for this? They are out on the river right now, getting the relic back from the demon.”

  Dan was nearly catatonic. “It’s her old fables….She’s feeding Will all of this. She’s been telling these stories for so long, she can’t distinguish reality from pious lies. I don’t know anything about it, Deb.”

  “This is your family! You have to know something about it.”

  “I don’t. I don’t.” Dan took the rope, turned from his wife, and stomped angrily toward the black granite slab bearing the inscription “Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.”

  Will and Aunt Lucille tiptoed through the three inches of water that swamped the end of the hallway. They were nearly upon the blighted temple, the central circular cavern of Dismal Shoals. As they climbed a few steps the firelight brightened and the cold cacophony of voices grew louder.

  “Lucille! This is cause for celebration. A living, breathing Wilder. Just what we needed. Haaaaa-haaaaa-haaaaaaaah.” The cruel laughter felt like a chilled stiletto slowly entering Will’s chest. It was similar to the feeling he’d had lying on the shores of the Perilous River, watching the relic float out of sight.

  The first thing Aunt Lucille spied was Tobias Shen, hanging limply from the wall, his face badly bruised and bleeding, red stains soaking the legs of his gray uniform. She quickly sized up the rest of the room: four Bottom Dwellers in the center of the chamber, one bubbling pit in the rear that resembled her father’s sketches of the Hell Mouth, and twenty feet off the ground a levitating cage holding the gold reliquary of St. Thomas the Apostle. On the periphery of the room, damaged marble braziers held plates of hot coals, providing a dying light.