Hakeem smiled. “Indeed. We are. Very, very busy.”
22
Yesterday Zack had thought it was totally awesome that they’d be sleeping in what was basically the Hanging Hill Playhouse’s attic. Now, as he and Zipper rounded the landing for the second floor, he wasn’t so sure.
“Only three more floors to go,” he said. He was panting. Zipper wasn’t. Zack hoped that they’d get the elevator fixed before he and Judy had to haul in their luggage. Otherwise, they’d be lugging it up five flights of stairs.
Trudging up to the third floor, Zack heard a little girl giggling.
Probably Meghan McKenna, Zack thought. He held on to the handrail. Leaned out. Peered up.
He saw nothing except the space between alternating flights of stairs and the bottoms of the billion metal steps he and Zipper still had left to climb.
“Come on, Zip.”
They hiked up to the landing between the second and third floors.
That’s where they heard more giggles.
“Meghan?” Zack called out. “Is that you?”
No answer.
“This is pretty funny, hunh? Guess the elevator’s so old it croaked.”
Another laugh. No. A howl.
This time it came from a man. From below.
“The devil led me on!” A raw voice rang out.
Now Zack heard plodding footsteps.
Someone was climbing up the staircase—behind them!
“The devil led me on!”
“Come on, Zip.” Zack picked up his dog and started taking the stairs two at a time. Behind them, the footfalls continued.
Click. Clunk.
Heavy boot heels hitting steel.
Click. Clunk.
Zack’s heart was pounding hard. He could feel Zipper’s racing, too.
“Don’t worry, Zip. I’m here.”
Zipper barked and his sharp yap rang like a bell in a tiny tiled bathroom.
The girl upstairs giggled again.
“Meghan?” Zack gasped. “Is that you?” Each word took more air than he had in his lungs. Each breath took more effort than the breath before.
Click. Clunk. Click. Clunk.
“The devil led me on!”
Zack spun around.
Saw nothing. No one.
But he did feel an icy chill pass right through him!
Clack. Clunk.
Clack. Clunk.
Now the footsteps were in front of him!
Zack didn’t move.
“Beware of that one,” whispered a voice.
Slowly, very slowly, Zack tiptoed up to the next landing, where he really, really, really hoped he’d find Meghan McKenna hidden in the shadows, doing a spooky voice.
Only it wasn’t Meghan.
It was another girl. Younger. Five, maybe six. She was juggling three balls high above her head. Her skin was ashen. Her dress was ruffled, her hair tied up in a big red bow.
“Beware!” she whispered again. “He’s one of the others!” And then she vanished.
Suddenly, at the top of the stairwell, Zack heard a wooden trapdoor swing open. A man screamed.
Zack leaned over the handrail, looked up.
The soles of two hobnailed boots came hurtling straight down at him!
He snapped back and watched the falling man yank to a stop.
Another ghost.
And this one was wearing really old clothes. Long boots with buckles, pants buttoned near the knees, and a cloak with a broad white collar. As he dangled in the narrow space between the staircases, Zack realized that this ghost looked exactly like a Thanksgiving Pilgrim without his hat.
Except those Pilgrims didn’t usually have nooses around their necks.
23
Reginald Grimes rose from his chair.
“So you people, you brothers of Hannibal, you fancy yourself theatrical producers?”
“Only when it suits our purposes, Exalted One,” Hakeem replied humbly.
“Is that so?” Grimes was furious. He balled up his good hand into a fist and banged it hard against his desk. “How dare you change my cast without consulting me first!”
Hakeem bowed slightly. “It was for the best.”
“Oh, really? For the best? Explain that to me, Mr. Hakeem.”
“In good time, High Priest. In good time.”
“Bah! Now!”
Hakeem raised his eyes. Smiled. “First, you must prove yourself worthy of our trust.”
Grimes scoffed at that. “What? You dare audition me?”
“Yes,” said Hakeem thoughtfully. “We do.”
“I am Reginald Grimes!”
“We know that.”
“I audition for no one.”
“Really? Not even when the role we offer will give you wealth and power beyond your wildest imaginings?”
That gave Grimes pause.
“How much wealth and power?”
“More than any mortal man has ever known.”
Oh. He liked the sound of that. He liked it a lot.
“Very well, gentlemen. For the time being, I accept your cast change. I will work with this new boy. What’s his name?”
“Stone. Derek Stone.”
“He’s right for the part?”
“He and Meghan are both perfect.”
Grimes returned to his chair. Leaned back. “I am curious about one thing. Why did your so-called brotherhood choose to produce Curiosity Cat? Why not Bats in Her Belfry?”
“Curiosity Cat provides that which we require. The two children. This sacred power spot. The full August moon. Even now the portal begins to open.”
Grimes grimaced and reopened the ancient text sitting atop his desk. He frantically flipped through the pages—forward, then backward—hoping to find some explanation, maybe something he had missed the first time through. Two children? August moon? Sacred power spots?
“The answers you seek are not revealed in that text,” said Hakeem. “To find them, we must open the secret compartment, to which I alone have the key—the key personally handed to me by your glorious grandfather.”
“So let’s go open it!”
“No. First you must finish reading all that is written in The Book of Ba’al and my men must install the scenic piece that arrived only this morning.”
“You’re changing my scenery, too?”
“This prop will not appear onstage. However, I am happy to report, it was delivered in most excellent condition, having traveled across the sea from Tunisia.”
“Tunisia?” said Grimes. “You people imported scenery we’re not even going to use—all the way from Tunisia?”
“Yes,” said Hakeem.
“You’re insane!”
“Actually, we prefer the term ‘devout.’”
24
“Soon,” he hears them say.
“Soon!” It is hissed by a hundred voices slithering around him in the swirling cesspool of disembodied demons and devils beneath the theater, all yearning to live once more.
“Soon the moon grows full!”
“The portal begins to widen.”
“The two children have arrived!”
“Soon we shall see the red moon!”
“Soon comes the lightning moon!”
“The dog moon!”
The demon spirits howl and cackle and hiss again in harmony: “Sssooooon!”
Diamond Mike Butler, the Butcher Thief of Bleecker Street, feels hope swell once more in his decay-riddled soul.
Soon the full August moon will rise in the sky. Soon he will rise as well.
And, if all goes as promised, this time he will also cross the precipice to life, where he will once again pillage and plunder and cause more people to die!
25
Wilbur Kimble, who was more than eighty years old, had worked at the Hanging Hill Playhouse all his life, dating back to when it was a stop on the old vaudeville circuit.