“But he can’t really become some anti-Christ, can he?” Jericho asked.
“He believes he can become the Beast through this ritual. Belief is everything. And we don’t understand everything about what he can do. These are not the rules of our world we’re playing by here, Jericho. They’re his rules—the rules of the supernatural world.”
“So how do we stop him?” Evie asked. “How do we stop a ghost?”
“We have to meet him where he is. We have to dispatch him via his own beliefs. If the last page of the Book of the Brethren contained some sort of spell or incantation for getting rid of John Hobbes, we need to know what was on that page. And we must solve the mystery of his connection to this book. Why does it matter to him?”
Evie opened the Book of the Brethren, running her hand along the rough seam where the last page had been torn away. There were three offerings remaining: the Destruction of the Golden Idol, the Lamentation of the Widow, and the Marriage of the Beast and the Woman Clothed in the Sun. She flipped back to the previous offerings.
“The dead body found at Belmont in 1875—that had to be the third offering, the Pale Horseman Riding Death Before the Stars,” Evie said.
“And besides Ida Knowles, they found exactly ten bodies in the basement of Knowles’ End,” Jericho said.
“The ten servants of the master,” Evie said excitedly. “A laundress and a maid went missing, as did people who boarded there. They could all be considered servants. The second offering. Oh, Unc. It fits!”
“So who was the first offering?” Sam asked. He put up his hands. “I’m just playing along here. I don’t go for ghosts.”
Evie stared at the picture of what looked like a house or barn. “The first offering—the Sacrifice of the Faithful. Ida Knowles was faithful. For a while, at least.”
“But she wasn’t first,” Jericho said.
“True,” Evie said on a sigh.
Uncle Will reached for another cigarette. “I don’t like that you went to Knowles’ End, Evie. Not with what we know now.”
“But it’s just a house, Unc.”
“An awful, awful house filled with dead bodies once upon a time,” Sam said cheerily. “I’m sure it’s swell at Christmastime.”
“It’s his house,” Will said. “It’s his lair, and I imagine he wouldn’t take too kindly to trespassers. Evie, you and Mabel didn’t leave anything behind, did you?”
Evie thought of the small patch of cloth stuck on the laundry chute. It was so small—too small to be of note. Wasn’t it? “No, Unc.”
“Why not just go there and burn it to the ground?” Sam asked.
“Because we don’t quite know what sort of entity we’re dealing with,” Will explained. “What if that only made him stronger? No. Until we’ve satisfied the question of why Naughty John is enacting this ritual, why it matters to him, and we’ve found what was on that missing page, our only hope is to prevent him from killing again. We know he has to complete the murders by the time of Solomon’s Comet—”
“Which is in four days,” Jericho reminded everyone.
“If we can stop him from finishing his task on time, he’ll lose by default. The timing is key.”
Sam played a coin across the tops of his right knuckles, flipped it, and neatly caught it in his left hand. “You planning to tell Detective Malloy you’re hunting the ghost of a killer who hung fifty years ago? I don’t care how good of a pal he is to you, Professor—he’ll lock us all up in the loony bin.”
“Sam’s right,” Jericho said.
Will nodded. “Agreed. We can’t let Terrence know. We’re on our own. Evie, what’s the next offering?”
Evie turned to the correct page. “The Destruction of the Golden Idol. ‘And lo, they did not believe but were seduced by the golden calf. They paid tribute to false idols and were damned for it. And the ninth offering sprang from lust and sin. The golden calf was destroyed, stripped of its skin of shame, and placed upon the altar of the Lord. And the Beast was pleased.’ ” Evie looked up to see that Jericho was still staring at her in that uncomfortable way. “For crying out loud, Jericho, what is it? Have I grown a second head?”
“Sorry. It’s just that… you’re not what I thought.” He hadn’t meant to say it like that.
Evie was tired and scared and her headache had really taken hold. And now Jericho thought she was a freak. He was afraid of her. She thought somehow it would be different with Jericho. He was a deep thinker, a philosopher, but he was no different from the small minds of her small town. Angrily, she grabbed his cold hand and clamped her own over his watch.
“That’s right, I’m a real sideshow act,” she said. He tried to pull away, but she dug her fingers under the watch. “How’s about it, Jericho? Would you like me to tell you your secrets? All the little lies you keep hidden from the world?”
“No!” Jericho jerked his hand away from Evie’s so quickly that he nearly lost his balance.
Tears stung at the corners of Evie’s eyes and a lump rose in her throat. She wasn’t about to cry here, and so she ran from the library and shut herself in the bathroom.
“Nice work, Frederick,” Sam grumbled and went after her.
Sam sat on the floor outside the bathroom door, hoping Evie could hear him. “Doll, I don’t care if you can read every secret I’ve got. I don’t even care if you keep me sitting outside this john all night. Well, my legs would care, but don’t mind them—they like to complain.”
Evie didn’t respond, and Sam blew out a gust of trapped air. He’d never met anyone else with a strange gift. Never. So there were two of them. A pair. A pair was good.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. I just want you to know that.”
Silence.
“Take your time, doll. You know where to find me. I’ll keep your seat warm.”
In the bathroom, Evie leaned her head against the door. “Thank you,” she whispered, though Sam was no longer there to hear it.
The stranger stood in the dark of the basement, listening as the house whispered to him. He could tell something wasn’t right. The house felt violated. Unclean. He would have to repaint the symbols to restore it to its purity. Anoint thy flesh and prepare ye the walls of your houses. The sacred covenant kept.
Naughty John plucked the scrap of Evie’s coat from the edge of the laundry chute. Again, the house whispered to him. A girl. A girl had done this violation. She would pay for her transgression. But first, the house must be prepared in time for tomorrow’s offering.
Whistling the old tune, he felt for the secret door. It opened for him, and he was welcomed inside with sighs and whispers.
THE NINTH OFFERING
When Detective Malloy came to call the following afternoon, he didn’t look happy. He gestured to the crowds of visitors. “Business is good, I see.”
“We’ve gone from forgotten to fad in a few weeks,” Will said. Two giggling college girls asked for Will’s autograph and he politely declined, much to their disappointment.
Detective Malloy watched the exchange. “That’s the trouble.”
“What do you mean?” Evie asked. She’d never seen the detective quite so businesslike. He was uncomfortable—that much was evident. But she had no idea why. After all, shouldn’t he be pleased that his old friend’s museum was finally in the black?
The detective lowered his voice. “Will, there’s talk that you might be involved in the killings.”
Will’s eyes widened. “What?”
“That’s bunk!” Evie protested.
“I know. But it doesn’t look good—the fella who knows everything about the occult, who gave us the tip on Jacob Call, whose museum is now the hottest ticket in town, getting written up in all the papers—”
“I had nothing to do with those newspaper articles, I can assure you,” Will snapped, and Evie hoped no one could see her blush.
“I’m just saying, you might want to stay out of it. Leave it to the police.”