Chris Grabenstein - The Hanging Hill

“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!

Was it his fault she was dead?

“You’ll see her,” Zack said, trying to comfort the old man.

“When?”

Zack didn’t know the answer to that one, so he made something up. “Just as soon as we stop these people from killing Meghan and Derek! Where’s the nearest phone? We need to call the police!”

“Upstairs,” said Kimble. “Stage manager’s desk in the wings backstage.”

“Let’s go!”

Kimble hauled himself up off the floor. “We need to be careful, son. Moloch is mighty!”

Yeah. So Zack had heard. In the original Latin, too.

94

“This way, ladies!” snarled one of the thugs, waggling his pistol at the three mothers. “Into the vault!”

The other giant had his weapon trained on Meghan and Derek.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Judy demanded.

The big man snorted a laugh. “Locking you three inside Dracula’s tomb. Hurry up. It’s nice ‘n’ cozy.”

“Forget it,” said Judy.

“Silence, infidel!” screamed Grimes. “Do not dare to interfere with my destiny! You are nothing! Nobody! I am the high priest of Ba’al Hammon!” He roughly grabbed hold of Meghan’s shoulders. Hakeem snatched Derek.

“Mom?” Derek cried.

Mrs. Stone fainted and fell to the floor.

She wasn’t going to be much help, Judy realized.

“Into the box!” The swarthy man jabbed the muzzle of his pistol into Judy’s back.

“No!” said Meghan’s mom. “Let go of my daughter!”

The other thug thumbed back the hammer on his revolver. Aimed it at Meghan’s head. “Do what my friend Jamal says or I blow out this one’s pretty little brains.”

“Come on, Mary,” said Judy. “They mean business.”

“Indeed we do!” said Grimes. “Tie them up! Blindfold them! Put them inside Dracula’s tomb!”

Ropes wrapped tight around her hands and ankles, a thick cloth covering her eyes, Judy was forced into the set piece that had been Dracula’s sealed tomb in the show. She figured it was a version of a magician’s substitution box, a classic magic trick she’d learned about while researching one of her books.

Judy heard Mrs. McKenna crying as she was shoved into the dark box.

“Grab hold of this other one’s legs,” snarled the thug named Jamal. “I’ll take the arms.”

Mrs. Stone’s limp body was dumped between Judy and Mary McKenna.

Someone slammed the tomb door shut.

Judy heard heavy chains being wrapped around and around the box. Locks snapping into place. Yep. Just like in the magic trick.

Now she just hoped she could remember how the trick worked.

How the magician escaped!

95

Zipper watched the old man start climbing a ladder bolted to the basement wall.

“This’ll be faster,” the man said. “Take us straight up to the wings and the stage manager’s desk.”

“I’ll be right back, Zip,” Zack said as he grabbed a ladder rung.

Zipper knew Zack to be a boy of his word.

So he sank down on all fours. Panted a little.

He’d wait.

“Hurry!” Zack called out to the man climbing up the ladder ahead of him.

“Movin’ as fast as I can.”

“We need to move faster!”

Zipper barked. Zack was right. The old guy was slow.

He heard their feet clunk-clunk-clunking up the ladder.

Real slow.

Now he heard a hiss. He perked up his ears. Swung his head to the right.

His hackles shot up like porcupine quills.

The cat.

The crazy thing was back.

96

The goons named Badir and Jamal shoved Meghan and Derek down the switchback ramp leading to the storage room.

And the Minotaur , thought Meghan.

She could smell something burning. Oily. Foul. Like a malfunctioning furnace.

Mr. Grimes and Hakeem shoved open the swinging barn doors.

“Inside!” growled Badir.

Meghan felt the pistol muzzle being jabbed into her ribs. “Now!”

“Shall I lock the doors?” Hakeem asked.

“No need,” Grimes chortled. “We’re all alone. Leave them open wide so my army of demons can march forth to conquer the world!”

“What about the other boy?”

“The playwright’s son? Bah! The child is a weakling! He is no match for Moloch and me!”

Meghan would’ve disagreed with the lunatic but she was too busy staring at the brass man-beast.

There was a barbeque grill between its knees and it was glowing, turning red like a burner on an electric stove top.

The bull’s horns were acting like chimneys, sending streams of wavering heat and smoke straight up to the exhaust hood.

Grimes raised his arms toward the statue.

“King of the two regions, I invoke you!” he cried out.

Meghan stared toward the ceiling. She knew they were about two stories below the stage-right side of the theater. That was where the scene shop was—the place where they constructed all the set pieces for shows.