The Beasts of Upton Puddle (10 page)

Joe saw a wastepaper bin at the side of the desk. Several balls of crumpled paper were inside, and there was surely something written on them that was supposed to be kept secret. Heinrich looked at him pleadingly, and the weight of another secret burdened Joe. The guilt of his involvement with Lilly's escape was uncomfortable enough, but now what should he do about Heinrich? It was obvious that Mrs. Merrynether and Heinrich had a relationship with a long history. How could he interfere with that?

With a cautious foot nudge and a well-timed clearing of his throat, Heinrich slid the bin behind his desk while Mrs. Merrynether's attention was on the man-ticore. He directed another look of earnest at Joe before
he spoke. “You're right, of course, Ronnie. We will think of something. We've never let any of our patients down yet . . . er . . . which reminds me: perhaps it is time we told Joe why he has been chosen to help us.”

Mrs. Merrynether straightened and turned to Joe, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Yes, Heinrich, though it seems we already have our answer.”

Joe looked at Mrs. Merrynether, then at Heinrich, then back at Mrs. Merrynether. Heinrich had obviously done this not only to keep Mrs. Merrynether's attention away from his desk but also to divert Joe's attention.

“Chosen? For what?” Joe asked. “I thought I was just doing your shopping for you.”

“I'm afraid I have a confession to make, Joseph. Do you remember when I told you that I have a particular gift that allows me to empathize with animals?”

“Sure. The Merrynether Technique.”

“Do you think that gift is limited to animals?”

“I hadn't thought about it.” Joe braced himself for the punch line.

“Well, it isn't. Do you remember that powerful feeling of purpose and destiny when you first came to my door? I'm afraid that was my doing.” She raised a hand. “But please don't jump to conclusions. It wasn't meant as a deception. Rather, it was intended to present you with a choice. Remember I told you that being special
is
a choice? Not everyone would have responded to such a call, but you did.”

Joe felt the walls of the vault closing in on him, a sense of unease accompanied by the slow realization of a wakeup call. He was a young boy standing in an underground vault with two people he knew nothing about, and not a single soul knew where he was. Could he really be that stupid?

“It took courage to reach this point,” she continued. “Not just for you but for me. You placed your trust in me, and now I am trusting you. I didn't have to tell you any of that.”

All three exchanged looks of uncertainty.

Somewhere at the back of the vault, a creature stirred, and Joe was suddenly aware of the peculiar sounds made by a host of other unidentified animals. From one side, a soft whisper like sand being shaken through a sieve; from the other, a rhythmic breathing like distant wind passing through the tubes of a great church organ. He could turn his back on all of this and be safe. But he would never know what was making those strange noises, and he may never have an opportunity like this again. It was worth the risk.

“Why?” Joe asked Mrs. Merrynether.

“Why what?”

“Why did you choose me?”

“I . . . we had a feeling about you. But more importantly, we needed you for a very special patient we've been expecting for several weeks . . . It's time you were introduced.”

Mrs. Merrynether walked away, deeper into the vault, leaving Joe and Heinrich to watch each other with uncertain smiles.

“Who were you writing to?” Joe asked once Mrs. Merrynether was out of earshot.

Heinrich's smile fell. His eyes twitched and swiveled, looking anywhere except into Joe's.

“Please don't tell Ronnie. She . . . she wouldn't understand.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Yes . . . No . . . She . . .” Heinrich's face twisted in confusion, and Joe was about to tell Heinrich to forget it when a brilliant blue-white light emerged from behind Cornelius's cage.

The entire vault was exposed, and Joe was treated to a spectacle of tentacle and claw, a parade of cherry reds and lizard greens as a host of animals were gloriously
revealed within their enclosures. The black silhouette of Mrs. Merrynether was at the center of it all, stooping over a casket, lifting something out. Then the glare diminished, and Mrs. Merrynether walked toward Joe and Heinrich, an enigmatic smile curling her lips. She cupped in her hands something small, the source of the light.

“The more excited she gets, the brighter she glows,” she said. “I take it you saw that little outburst, Joseph?”

“Uh . . . yes. I could hardly miss it.” Stunned, Joe looked at the object in her hands. It was the lightbulb he'd bought from Mr. Bacon a week before, and now it was obvious why she wanted to have the filament removed. Something living shifted inside it.

Carefully, Mrs. Merrynether unscrewed the cap of the bulb. “Out you come,” she whispered. “Time to stretch those beautiful wings.”

Two milk-white arms as delicate as matchsticks yawned outward from the opening, and the tiniest fingers Joe had ever seen grasped the edge of the bulb. A petite head, crowned with wisps of sapphire-blue hair, stretched up gracefully. With two diamond eyes, it gazed at its surroundings, eventually setting its sight upon Joe. It smiled and, with a gentle squeeze, pulled the rest of its body from its glass home. Around its frame was a lattice of tiny crystals, which Joe assumed was some kind of clothing. Two sets of dovelike wings unfolded, sending out ripples of light with each slow beat as it drifted on the air toward him.

“Is it an angel?” Joe asked, his gaze firmly locked on the miniature wonder.

The reply came from the creature as it floated at Joe's eye level. Its voice, undoubtedly female, seemed to be right inside his ear, tickling like a blade of grass.

“Some call us angels; some call us fairies. I am a seraph.”

“A seraph?” Joe poked at one of his ears.

“Yes.”

“So you
are
an angel, then. Like the seraphim and cherubim? I heard about them in a church once.”

“If you like.” The seraph laughed, spun in a graceful arc, and glided down into the enclosure, settling on the side of the manticore. Her tiny fingers splayed as she pushed her hands into the crimson fur. Joe could hear her humming as she turned onto her back and stretched, apparently enjoying Cornelius as though he were a luxurious cushion.

“You can see her without any difficulty?” asked Mrs. Merrynether.

“Of course,” Joe said. “Why? Shouldn't I?”

“Actually, no. Nobody should be able to see a seraph. They're usually invisible to the naked eye. The seraphim feed on light, a bit like plants, and once they've absorbed what they need, the rest is radiated back at a very specific wavelength unique to each seraph. No two seraphim ever radiate light at the same wavelength, you know. And it's always out of the range of the human eye.”

“So how is it we can see her?”

“Ah, that's the question, isn't it? It's why she's here, and it's why you're here too, Joseph. I had to know for sure if she really has a problem.”

“I don't understand.”

“Well, there are specific situations where a human being
can
, in fact, see a seraph. First, you have to believe they exist and, second, you have to know the name of the seraph. Don't ask me how that works. We're still trying to sort out the science behind it, but somehow those two things tune you in. Only under those circumstances can a human being hope to see a seraph.”

“A bit like remote central locking on my mum's car, then? Our key is the only one tuned in to our car.”

“As good analogy as any, I suppose.” Mrs. Merrynether smiled. “Heinrich and I knew of the existence of seraphim a long time ago. We both know her name,” she said, motioning toward the creature as it crawled along Cornelius's back. “So there was no question that she would be visible to us. She came to us with her ailment, hoping to be cured, and we attempted a variety of remedies, but unless we could find someone who should not be able to see her, we couldn't know if we were successful.”

“Sorry, but I didn't know they existed until today, and I definitely don't know her name.”

“Yes, but from the moment you walked into the vault, I knew you would be able to see her.”

“How?”

“Do you see any other sources of light in here today?”

Joe looked around him. All the lamps and ceiling lights were off, and the skylights had shutters bolted across them, yet for a radius of at least fifteen feet, everything was bathed in light.

“There's no artificial light in here,” said Mrs. Merrynether, “and no daylight either. She's providing the illumination, and she even shines straight through solid objects just as X-rays do. If you were unable to see her, you wouldn't be able to see anything at all in here today.”

“So that means if I can see her, anyone can see her? There's no way to hide her unless she stays down here?”

“That's why we have this lightbulb. It may be the only way to disguise her. I admit that her light isn't exactly normal, but at least if it's seen to be coming from a lightbulb it might not warrant a second look. We don't expect anyone down here, but we like to be prepared—just in case.”

Joe shrugged and watched the seraph. She had worked her way up to the manticore's mane, wading through the fur like an excited butterfly hunter walking through long grass. Then with an elegant sweep of her four wings, the seraph launched into the air, bursting with blue-white brilliance.

“He is proud and beautiful,” she said, flittering in circles around Mrs. Merrynether's head. “Why doesn't he sing as a manticore should?”

“Cornelius is very ill, Danariel,” Mrs. Merrynether replied.

Heinrich slapped his forehead and then shot a pained look at her. “Did you really want Joe to know her name? Now even if we cure her, Joe will still be able to see her.”

“Oh, goodness!” Mrs. Merrynether clapped her hands to her mouth.

“Danariel? That's a lovely name,” Joe said.

The seraph drifted in a spiral motion toward Joe, smiling and beaming rays of white. “I know,” she said. “Someone lovely named me.”

“Your mother?”

“We seraphim do not have mothers and fathers. We are . . . thought into being by—”

“Danariel.” Mrs. Merrynether stepped forward. “It would be best if young Joseph does not know everything. He—”

“Nonsense. In fact, would you both please leave us alone for a few minutes? Joe and I have things to discuss, and I would rather not have either of you interrupt.”

Mrs. Merrynether and Heinrich shot astonished glances at each other. Joe was equally astounded when they agreed and headed for the door. They stopped before leaving the vault and looked at Danariel, who had settled on the edge of Heinrich's desk, smiling sweetly and swinging her legs. She lifted a hand to shoo them off, and both of them left.

“Sit down, Joe.” She nodded at the chair Lilly had made.

Joe sat obediently, and Danariel wiggled her fingers at him, beckoning him to drag the chair closer.

The sound of the wood scraping the stone floor was louder than Joe expected, and from the back of the vault, strange gurglings and rumblings sang out in reply. He peered into the darkness, wondering whether the other creatures could see Danariel too and if any of them were as ill as Cornelius. He looked at the sleeping red giant. There was no change. Joe frowned.

A gentle tap on the side of his face, like the pattering of rain, caught his attention. He turned to see Danariel, floating inches from his head, staring intently at him.

“You are worried about the manticore?”

Joe nodded. “Mrs. Merrynether thinks he might—”

“He may die, yes.”

Joe fell silent and stared at the floor. Danariel glided downward, intercepting his line of sight, making it impossible for him to avoid her eyes.

“There are many who fear death, but most are afraid of
how
they will die, not of death itself. Yet I sense you are different. You are a happy soul. Why does it trouble you so?”

“That's just it. I'm happy, and I don't want it to ever end. There are so many things to see,” he said, waving both hands. “I'm afraid of what I might miss out on once I'm dead. All the discoveries. All the crazy inventions.
People landing on Mars or . . . or being able to watch holographic movies.”

“Dream recorders or telescopic contact lenses,” Danariel added with a wide smile.

“Yes, or what about teleportation?” Joe grinned as he allowed his imagination to run riot.

Danariel was caught up in Joe's momentary thrill too. The light in the vault had intensified, and her sparkling eyes shone.

They stared at each other for almost a full minute, sharing a quiet joy.

Joe sighed, the brief excitement melting away. “I can't bear the thought of missing so many amazing things. One day I'll be gone. I won't see any of it.”

A quiet settled in the vault.

“Tell me, Joe,” Danariel mused, “what was it like for you before you were born?”

“Before?”

“Yes.”

Joe thought for a moment. “It wasn't like anything. I didn't know anything, and I couldn't feel anything.”

“Just like how it will be after you die.”

“I suppose so,” Joe nodded slowly, “but I still can't help thinking about the things I'll miss.”

“Then weep for today also.”

The second deep frown of the day knitted Joe's brow.

The tiny creature closed her eyes, apparently concentrating, and the aura of light surrounding her softened
into a calmer hue. “At this very moment,” she whispered, as if careful not to disturb something delicate in the air, “there is an old man in Bulgaria who has heard the funniest joke ever told. He has been laughing for over three hours now.