Josh and the Magic Vial (23 page)

“No, sir,” Ian blushed.

“You didn't order her to hand it over using any kind of threat?”

“No.”

“Then what
did
you do to convince her?”

“I just tried to see Endorathlil as the girl, Lillian.”

“In other words, you acted compassionately?”

“Yes.”

“Let us begin your training,” he said. “Let us open
The Book
and study its secrets. Let's learn what is possible under the Ancient Law.”

Mrs. Dempster watched from the dining room window as the children climbed into Josh's tree fort — again! She sighed.

“I don't like it Frank,” she fretted, carrying a load of plates into the kitchen. “I don't like it one little bit.”

Mr. Dempster acknowledged her with a grunt. He hadn't heard properly because he was busy balancing the last pot onto a precarious stack in the drying rack. He took it as something of a personal challenge to get every pot and utensil into the teetering plastic tray without emptying it once. The results were sometimes disastrous.

“What are they doing up there?” Mrs. Dempster wondered.

He turned to her, drying his hands on the dishtowel. “I don't know,” he sighed. “But at least he's not up in his room alone. I think things have taken a turn for the better, don't you?”

“Maybe,” she said doubtfully. She supposed it was better for Josh to be with friends outside rather than closeted in his room. But she wasn't sure about Josh's new friend Ian — a tough kid the Dempsters hadn't met before. And even Millie seemed secretive and strange these days

“Do you think he's getting into things he shouldn't?” Mrs. Dempster wondered.

“We'd be fools not to ask,” Mr. Dempster answered. “But I find it hard to believe Josh would do anything stupid. And Millie? She wouldn't put up with anything dumb, that's for sure.”

“You're right,” she agreed. “But something's not right Frank.”

“Josh has a lot going for him,” he continued. “He's a smart kid and he's got two great parents who love him more than anything in this world. No matter what happens that's not going to change.”

They hugged.

“I wish that was enough dear,” Mrs. Dempster said, uncertain. “Something we don't understand is happening to our son and it's frightening me.”

“Me too,” Mr. Dempster admitted. “But when we're faced with the unknown it's really important to hang on to the things we do know, eh? We love each other and we love Josh.”

“You know Frank, for a bank manager you're a pretty noble guy.”

“Well,” he teased, “you bring out the best in me.”

For a second, things seemed almost normal in the Dempster household. Alison and Frank smiled.

40

“E
verything comes to us for a reason,” Puddifant was saying. “At first we may have trouble discerning what the reason is and how an event ties into our lives. But that's only because we tend to view the world through the wrong end of the telescope.”

“What do you mean?” Millie interrupted.

Puddifant stroked his beard thoughtfully. Then his eyes brightened. You could always tell when the inspector had hit on an idea: it showed in a sudden transformation of his features, like the expression on a boy's face when he sees the pile of presents under the Christmas tree.

“Take my own case,” he explained. “Murdered, imprisoned in a bottle, I had a right to feel cheated, by Jove! But that very thought was the worst part of my punishment. It intensified my misery a thousand-fold.”

“But you were cheated!” Ian objected.

“Only if you take an egocentric point of view . . . ”

“A what?”

The inspector laughed. “Only if you insist on looking at things through the wrong end of the telescope.

“You're confusing me,” Millie complained.

Puddifant sighed. “Let me go back to my own case. For some years I
did
struggle against the fate I had suffered. My prison was hell and I made it an even hotter hell by blaming the world and myself for what had happened. I had been stupid. Blackstone was evil. My superiors had been negligent. God was cruel. Oh, I boiled with rage. And Blackstone was attuned to my suffering. He celebrated. His enterprise had been ruined but at least he could have his revenge on the miserable insect that had brought him down.

“A chance encounter changed all that. It was 1919. Blackstone had established his colony at Ormor on the Sea. He'd recruited many supporters already and had come to Vancouver to recruit some more. He'd taken a room right downtown in the Georgia Hotel and booked appointments for the entire day. Among his prospects was a fellow by the name of Tom Henderson.”

Puddifant paused. He closed his eyes and smiled as if he were listening to a particularly moving piece of music.

“Tom had recently returned from the Great War — the War to End All Wars as it was called. Before he'd joined the slaughter in Europe, he'd travelled the world looking for wisdom. He'd studied eastern religion and philosophy; he had a firm grasp of science and logic; he'd learned all he could about the occult and magic. Still, he had not discovered an answer to the question that had tested human intelligence and proved our profound ignorance throughout the ages. ‘Why?' he asked himself. ‘Why are we born? Why must we die? Why does the vast universe exist at all?'

“World War I put those questions in an even harsher light. He had seen unspeakable evil — evil on a scale unimaginable before then. Man's inventions had been turned into weapons of torture and slaughter. Millions upon millions had toiled in the mud. They had lived and breathed the stench of war. Millions died. Millions more were left physically and morally crippled, their faith in humanity shattered, their souls as barren and blasted as no man's land. How could any thinking person sustain a shred of faith in the human species after that cataclysm?

“Tom's answer was love — pure and simple. Not love as an idea. Not love as an equation based on how good a person was or how beautiful or accomplished, but unqualified, unquestioning love.”

“And that's the answer I must look for?” Josh frowned.

Puddifant beamed. “Yes!” he cried. “Yes, yes, yes. Not the notion of love, but the very essence.”

“I'm still not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, you'll know it when you find it my boy. Love in its purest form will set you free and there's no mistaking that feeling.”

“But how did Tom Henderson explain all that to you?” Millie asked.

Puddifant chuckled. “He knew about me from the moment he stepped into that hotel room and I somehow knew that he knew. There was a psychic connection between us — I believe it's called ‘energy' in modern circles. He talked to Blackstone about his search for a spiritual community and about his philosophy of universal love, but the whole time he was reaching out directly to me with his mind. I cannot explain this without sounding ridiculous. All I can say is his love still resonates in my soul. After that I began to let go of hatred. I saw it for what it was — a poison that gave Blackstone power over me.

“Love is the nucleus of the universe,” he sighed. “It holds everything together. There is no power on earth stronger. When you truly believe that, you will be ready to confront Vortigen.”

The children exchanged glances. It all sounded so strange. Like a sales pitch you might hear on a street corner or religion TV.

Millie glanced at Josh. He looked so pale and weary. How would he be able to muster the energy he'd need to defeat Vortigen? It seemed to her he could barely keep his eyes open and his chin from sinking onto his chest. He was getting thin, too. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“A little tired,” he admitted.

“Then it's time we retired for the night,” Puddifant said cheerily. “We could all do with a good sleep, eh?”

Annoyed, Millie stared at the Inspector. What was he hiding? “Is Josh okay?” she wanted to know. “He looks pretty sick to me. How's he going to fight off Vortigen if he's too sick to even stand up?”

“His body's sick,” Puddifant answered gravely. “Not his soul.

He'll be ready for the psychic battle when the time comes. He must be ready.”

“I'm okay Mil,” Josh said gently. “But thanks for asking.”

She glanced from one to the other of them. They weren't telling her the whole truth. Millie knew it in her bones. A shiver of panic — or was it anger — tingled her nerves. She felt as if she were looking for a black cat in a dark room: suspicious, but utterly lost.

41

T
hat night, as Josh brushed his teeth, Puddifant sat on the edge of the tub watching.

Josh had got used to having the inspector around— so comfortable he had to remind himself constantly not to slip up by talking to the spirit in front of his parents. “How do you feel?” Puddifant asked.

“Fine,” Josh gargled, trying not to let any toothpaste dribble onto his pajamas.

“Really?”

Josh stopped brushing and spat into the sink. The truth was he hadn't been feeling fine at all for days and the nausea he'd been suffering was getting worse. He could barely keep his balance and his eyes always wanted to droop closed. “No,” he admitted, meeting Puddifant's penetrating stare. “I feel crappy, Inspector.”

“Is it getting worse?”

“Yes,” Josh nodded.

“Then we must prepare. My guess is you will be visited by Vortigen and his minions very soon.”

“But it's not the night of the new moon yet,” Josh protested.

Puddifant shook his head sadly. “The night of the new moon is when the spell takes hold completely. If we have not broken it by then, there will be no way for you to return from Syde. Your sojourn there might begin earlier, however. Some of the candidates take sick about a week before the night of the full moon.

“That's . . . ”

“Tonight, I know,” Puddifant said grimly. “I didn't warn the others because I didn't want them to do anything that might jeopardize our chances of getting you out.”

“Getting me out!” Josh cried. “But that means I have to go there in the first place. You never told me that!” He glared at Puddifant.

“You weren't ready, Josh, and perhaps you aren't ready now.

But I cannot delay any longer because the onset of your illness might be this very night and you have to brace yourself . . . ”

“Isn't there anything you can do?” Josh pleaded.

Puddifant shook his head glumly. “I will try to stay in contact,” he said. “I can signal you from this dimension, rather like a homing beacon. But even reaching you will be difficult lad. You are going to have to find your own way home I'm afraid.”

“I thought you said we were going to defeat Vortigen together: you, Millie, Ian and I.We're a team, remember. We made a pact.”

“We
are
a team, Josh. But at this point in the mission you must venture forth on your own, in the same way that the first astronauts ventured out into space on their own even though there was a huge support team here on earth guiding and monitoring their every move.”

Josh scowled.

“If it would prevent this, my boy, I would gladly give up my life — such as it is. But there's nothing I or anyone else can do to stop the progress of Endorathlil's spell. She can't take it back, although I'm sure she regrets deeply what she has done. Not even Vortigen can stop it. Only you can alter the course of events.”

“Me! How?” Josh protested.

“Vortigen sees in you a kindred spirit. He believes it is only a matter of time until his arguments take hold and you come round. What he does not anticipate is your ability to resist. He considers you his son, Josh. Not by birth, but by nature. Like any father, he accepts the need for rebellion, but in the end he expects you to see things his way. He will offer you riches you cannot even begin to imagine. You will be astounded by his wealth and power. And when you refuse him — if you refuse him — he will bring to bear the full weight of a royal father's anger. He will try to force you to see reason.”

“And if he exerts his power, how can I resist?”

“What he hasn't accounted for in his calculations — and could not for he has no knowledge of it — is the power that binds you to this world . . . love,” Puddifant said calmly. “He does not know what it is to have a true friend, or to hear a mother's voice. Those are your strengths, Josh.”

“But all I feel is alone and afraid and doomed, just like Charlie Underwood.”

“Charlie had none of the knowledge you possess when he was cast into Syde. If he had, and if I had known the type of enemy he faced, I'm convinced we could have got him out. The task you face is much greater, however. You are not fighting for yourself only, Josh. You are destined to be a hero . . . or a demon . . . there is no middle ground. Either way, greatness is your lot.”

“Bullshit!” Josh growled. “I'm just a kid”

A knock at the door froze them, mid-sentence. “You okay Josh?” Mr. Dempster called through the locked door.

“Jeez!” Josh winced. “Yeah, Dad.”

“Who are you talking to in there, son?” his father asked jokingly.

“Just my ghost, Dad,” Josh forced a laugh. “Locked doors can't keep him out.”

Mr. Dempster sighed wearily, climbing into bed next to his wife. For a while they both lay there awake, staring at the ceiling. A network of shadows webbed the stucco, projected there by lamps from the street outside their window. They had to talk, but didn't want to broach the things that needed saying. For a while they had thought Josh might be getting back to his old self, but now they were not so sure. Talking to “his ghost” in the bathroom was not a good sign. Not good at all.

“Kids do that,” Mrs. Dempster suggested.

“I know, honey. But this wasn't normal. It was as if he really believed there was someone in there with him. You know what it's like, listening to someone talk on the phone and not being able to hear the person on the other end of the line: that's what it was like listening to Josh. He really thought he was talking to someone. He didn't dare say it, but Mr. Dempster couldn't help thinking “schizophrenia” . That's what happened wasn't it? You started hearing voices, having conversations in your mind. You ended up believing in your imaginary world more than the real one.