Kimble translated: “Boy and girl, pure and true, we die so that He might resurrect you.”
“Wait a second. Is it Meghan and Derek?”
Kimble kept going from memory. “‘Animas nostras tradimus ut vestrae successus prosperos habeant.’ We give up our souls so yours will prosper well. ‘In ignem ingredimur ut vos inferna fugiatis.’ We enter the fire so you can escape hell.”
“Fire? Are Meghan and Derek going into some kind of fire?”
“Aya.”
“This is crazy. You’re telling me that somebody’s going to try to kill Meghan and Derek, burn them alive, so they can get somebody else out of hell?”
“Everybody else. All the demons.”
That hit Zack hard. “Pandemonium! When are they going to do this thing?”
“When the full moon rises.”
“That’s tonight! It was nearly full yesterday.”
“When it rises, the ceremony will commence. Both your friends will be offered up as a sacrifice to Moloch.”
“What?”
“They’ll be roasted alive across the lap of that statue you say you found downstairs.”
“The Minotaur!” said Zack. “How come you know all this?”
“Professor Nicodemus once made me recite those very same words.”
“The magician?”
“Aya. Seventy years ago, he made me say them out loud. Then he threw my baby sister Clara into the fire! I helped him kill her!”
92
“You look very pretty!” Judy said to Meghan when she came into the lower lobby and joined the group clustered near the door to the basement.
“My mom said I should wear a dress.”
“And I was right,” said Mrs. McKenna. “Come on, a private party with the director is a big deal.”
“I guess.”
“Have you guys seen Zack?” Judy asked. “Derek said he saw him downstairs.”
Derek blanched. “Not recently.”
“What?”
“I meant I saw him down here earlier.”
An elevator door slid open near the concession stand.
“Good evening, ladies and gentleman!” Grimes called out as he glided across the carpet, trailed by his assistant, Hakeem.
Judy, who had thrown on a clean white blouse and a fresh pair of jeans, felt seriously underdressed: Grimes had on white tie and tails, a cape, and a turban. Hakeem was decked out in some sort of religious-looking robe-and-fez combo.
“Excuse me,” said Judy. “I need to run back upstairs. My stepson, Zack, is—”
“Already downstairs,” said Grimes. “He was kind enough to come by early and help us blow up balloons. Shall we?” He gestured toward the elevator. “I thought we might go upstairs first, take a quick tour of Dracula’s castle. You’ve seen the show?”
“Yes, sir,” said Derek. “It’s awesome!”
“Thank you.”
“Sir?”
“Yes, Derek?”
“Were we supposed to wear costumes like you guys?”
“This?” The director laughed. “No. I’m going to perform a few of my grandfather’s magic tricks at the party! Thought I should dress the part.”
“Cool.”
“But first, I want to take you folks backstage, give you a guided tour. Show you how we pull off some of the illusions.”
He gestured toward the elevator.
They all stepped into the waiting car.
Hakeem pulled the accordion cage door shut. Pressed a button. The elevator rose.
“I wish Zack was here,” said Judy. “He loves magic tricks.”
“I gave your stepson a private tour earlier,” said Grimes.
“Really? That was nice.”
“I know.”
Hakeem held out a cloth sack.
“Cell phones, pagers, and beeping watches, if you please,” he said.
“Why?” asked Mrs. McKenna.
“I despise electronic interruptions,” said Grimes. “Your valuables will, of course, be returned to you immediately after our little party.”
Judy looked at Mary McKenna. They both shrugged. What the heck? They placed their cell phones into the sack. Meghan added hers. Derek tossed in his PlayStation Portable.
The elevator car stuttered to a stop.
The doors slid open.
Badir and Jamal were waiting on the other side.
They were both armed with pistols.
93
“I’ve had seventy years to think about what I said that night,” Kimble mumbled. “I memorized those Latin words. Found a priest who translated ’em for me, taught me all about Moloch.”
“Who is he?” Zack asked.
“Pagan god. Phoenicians worshipped him. Folks who lived in Carthage, what they call Tunisia these days.” Kimble reached for the bottle of juice Zack had found in the lunch bag, and took a long swallow. “A lot of ancient civilizations used to practice child sacrifice. Aztecs. Incas. Carthaginians.”
“And the parents let them do this?”
“Aya. In some cultures, the families had so many children they were willing to sacrifice one of it meant they’d receive some sort of special favor from the gods for all the rest. Good crop. Wealth and riches. New life for a bunch of dead criminals so you can send ’em out into the world to do your bidding. That’s what Professor Nicodemus was up to.”
“He was a necromancer,” said Zack, remembering the poster.
“That’s right. And he was the real deal. Could actually call forth the dead, have ’em float across the stage. I’ve seen it. Clara and I were on the same vaudeville bill with him.”
“You saw him call up demons from the dead?”
“At every show. He knew all the ancient rites. Carried around this big leather book. The Book of Ba’al. He figured he could run the resurrection ritual and all of the demons would come back to life beholden to him.”
He’d be the mayor of demon city, thought Zack. Pandemonium.
“Wish I’d known what he was making me say,” Kimble continued. “Clara and I thought we were auditioning for roles as his juvenile assistants.”
“He killed your sister? Burned her alive?”
“Aya. But, he forgot to vent his grill properly. Smoke billowed out all the windows. Fire trucks showed up. Police, too. I lived. Clara died. The professor was shipped off to the loony bin. The sacrifice was not completed. Moloch’s promise remained unfulfilled.”
“So you stayed here all these years to protect kids from falling into the same trap you and your sister did?”
“That’s right. I never knew when the next descendant of the high priest of Ba’al might show up, try to kill another child like my sister, Baby Clara. The best juggler in all vaudeville.”
“Juggler Girl!”
“What?”
“And your name’s Wilbur! She sent Zipper and me down to rescue you. Dropped one of her balls down the stairwell.”
“When?”
“Just now.”
“You saw Clara?”
“Sure. I’ve seen her a couple times.”
Kimble’s lips quivered. “How does she look?”
“Fine. Has on this frilly dress. Juggles all sorts of stuff. Balls. Bowling pins.”
“Is she burned?”
“What?”
“Is she scarred from the fire?”
“No. Like I said, she looks fine.”
“You promise?”
“Cross my heart!”
Kimble swiped his rough hand across his damp eyes. “What I wouldn’t give to see her face again.”
“Well, most adults can’t see ghosts…”
“It’s because I killed her. That’s why I could see that ugly ghost in the closet but not my baby sister!”
“No. It’s just how it is. Besides, you didn’t kill Clara. That psycho professor guy did.”
“But it was my fault.”
For a split second, Zack wondered if that was why he could see all sorts of spirits but not his own mother’s!