The cat. Yesterday. Had he brought back the spirit of his long-dead friend simply by wishing for it?
“My cat,” he whispered. “Maybe.”
The other men sighed and nodded.
“This is good,” said Hakeem. “Very good. You might, indeed, be blessed with your grandfather’s gifts.”
Hearing that caused Grimes to stand a little taller, his chest to swell. “Well, I suppose it’s possible. Maybe a little.”
“We shall see. Badir? Anoint the ground!”
The big man broke the circle so he could reach into a pouch he carried slung over his shoulder. He started to sprinkle dirt at their feet.
“What’s that?” Grimes asked.
“Earth. From a graveyard. Jamal?”
Now Jamal let go of the hands he was holding and produced a cloth sack.
“Eat!” he said, presenting Grimes with a stale slice of black bread.
Grimes ate. It was dry and tasteless.
“Drink!” Out came a small corked vial containing purple liquid.
“What is it?” Grimes asked.
“Unfermented grape juice,” answered Hakeem.
Grimes drank. The juice was sour. Needed sugar.
Now Jamal unwrapped a sheet of butcher paper from around a slab of gray meat resembling jerky.
“Am I to eat this as well?” Grimes asked.
“Yes,” said Hakeem. “It is the final course.”
Grimes took the meat from Jamal. “What is the meaning behind all this?”
“These are all food items associated with the underworld. The realm of the dead.”
Grimes nodded. Chewed on the tough, stringy meat.
“Unleavened black bread!” Hakeem declared. “With out yeast, it is lifeless and black like the shroud of death. Grape juice! To honor Dionysus, the Greek god of the vine. One of the few ancient deities able to ferry dead souls up from the underworld!”
Grimes nodded. The symbolism made sense. “And this final course? The meat?”
“To pay patronage to Hecate, goddess of sorcery, you must eat her favored earthly animal. You must eat flesh from the corpse of a dead dog!”
He wished he hadn’t asked.
38
Meghan, Zack, and Zipper backtracked, made their way up the dimly lit maze of corridors.
Zipper barked.
“Lead the way, Zip!”
The dog took off.
“See, Zack?” said Meghan. “I told you we’d have an adventure down here!”
“We should’ve brought a flashlight!”
“What about that? That magic fairy wand or whatever. Maybe the star lights up.” She pulled the prop wand out of its bin. “There’s a switch on the handle.” She flipped it back and forth. Nothing happened. “Batteries must be dead.”
“Whack it on the bottom a couple times. It’s how I get my flashlight to work at home.”
Meghan whacked it.
The sparkling star glowed.
“Help!” Derek’s voice was weaker now.
“Hang on!” shouted Zack.
“We’re coming!” added Meghan.
They rounded a final corner and raced down a steep ramp that switched back a couple of times before it entered a storage vault at least fifty feet tall and wide.
“So, the basement has a basement!” said Meghan. “It’s probably where they store the huge set pieces. Then they use a freight elevator or something to hoist stuff up to the stage.”
“Zack!” Derek whimpered. “Tell your dog to stop licking me!”
Meghan swung her wand light to the right.
Derek was cowering on the cement floor, trying to cover up with his elbows so Zipper couldn’t slobber all over his face.
Zack stared up at the giant creature that had terrified Derek.
“Wow!”
It had to be at least twelve feet tall. A gargantuan brass statue of a man who had the head of a bull. Mr. Bull Head was seated on a throne with his hands held out in front of him, palms up, like he was waiting for someone to toss him a basketball.
“I couldn’t see where I was going and bumped into that thing!” Derek explained. “When I looked up …”
“You screamed like a baby,” said Meghan. “Don’t worry. I would’ve done the same thing.”
“Yeah. Me too,” said Zack. “This guy’s got some nasty nostrils.”
All three of them studied the colossus.
“I wonder what show they used it in,” said Meghan.
“Was there ever a Bulls?” asked Derek. “You know, like Cats?”
“I don’t think so,” said Meghan. “It’s so huge! It looks like it might be from an opera.”
Zack heard someone sobbing.
From the look on her face, he could tell that Meghan heard it, too.
“What’s wrong?” Derek asked.
“Someone’s crying,” said Zack.
Derek looked at them both like they were crazy. “What? Where?”
Meghan and Zack both held a finger up to their lips, urged Derek to keep quiet.
He stayed where he was.
They crept around the brass man’s big sandaled feet. Zipper padded along after them
Whatever was behind the statue wouldn’t stop weeping.
39
The four men stood holding hands in a circle around the ghost light at center stage.
Grimes wished he had a toothbrush. He still tasted the canine carcass.
“Repeat after me,” Hakeem instructed. “Ego sum te peto et videre queo!”
“That’s Latin.”
“Of course.”
“Well, what does it mean?”
“Did you not read The Book of Ba’al?”
Grimes hesitated. “I skimmed some sections.”
“So I feared. Ego sum te peto et videre queo: I seek you and demand to see you.”
“I seek you and demand to see you.”
“In Latin, please.”
“Ego sum te peto et videre queo.”
“Louder.”
“Ego sum te peto et videre queo!”
“Again!”
“Whose spirit are we summoning?”
“Let us start at the top of your grandfather’s list. Mad Dog Murphy.”
“Who’s he?”
“Convicted bank robber. Murderer. Died in the electric chair in 1959.”
“What do we want with him?”
“Repeat the words.”
“First you tell me why we would want a murdering bank robber!”
“Because he is very good at his job!” said Hakeem. The other two men sniggered. “Repeat the words!”
Grimes felt the warmth of power surging through his body. Jolts of adrenaline rippled up from his hands as he clutched the hands of the two brothers of Hannibal. Who were these people? Why did they make him feel like he could soar through the air like an eagle, commanding all those below? Like his lame arm would somehow grow strong enough to wield a terrible swift sword and fell any who stood in his way?
“Ego sum te peto et videre queo!” he cried “Mad Dog Murphy! I seek you and demand to see you!”
“Louder!”
“I seek you and demand to see you! Now!”
The bulb atop the ghost light exploded.
Sparks arced up from the exposed filament.
Electricity crackled across the air, igniting a roaring thunderclap. Four lightning bolts collided at center stage with the screech of steel wheels screaming to a stop in a train wreck.
A monstrous man strapped in a wooden chair suddenly materialized in the air. He floated ten feet above the floor, bobbing like a tossed boat on a churning sea.
“Where am I?” the beast in the chair bellowed.
“Are you the spirit of Mad Dog Murphy?” Grimes demanded.
“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Where the blazes am I?”
“Where I summoned you!” answered Grimes, feeling more robust and vital than he had ever felt in his life.
He was his grandfather’s rightful heir.
He was a true necromancer!
40