Wrath of the Grinning Ghost (10 page)

"Excuse me," came the sound of Brewster's voice. "This is all very interesting, but you people might want to know that someone who means you no good is creeping up on this house right now. If I were you, I'd run for it!"

CHAPTER NINE

Madam Lumiere rose and said, "I can help you no more. Be strong! And follow the lead of your spirit guide." She hurried out into the growing twilight.

The thunderbird carving flew up in front of Johnny's face and hung in the air, practically vibrating. "Shake a leg! Get a move on!" Brewster ordered. "If Nyarlat-Hotep gets wind of what you've done, all Hades will break loose!"

"Nyarlat Whosis?" asked Fergie. "Just what are you talkin' about?"

The little bird spun and jittered in an agitated way. "Nyarlat-Hotep! That's what Damon Boudron's name is in the spirit world! And he's
not
a nice creature from beyond the bounds of space and time. So don't just stand there with your face hanging out! Go!"

The carving swooped back into Johnny's shirt pocket, and the professor snapped, "Pack your kits, gentlemen! We're breaking camp!"

He took the book into his bedroom while Johnny ran to his room and tossed his clothes willy-nilly back into his cardboard suitcase. He could hear Fergie doing the same. Within minutes, Johnny, Fergie, and the professor were bustling out of the house. They started down the steps when a nasty voice said, "What's th' matter? Ain't my place nice enough for ya?"

From the gathering darkness of evening, a man stepped forward. He was the owner of the motor court, the thin little fellow with the bald patch surrounded by bristly red hair. "Where ya off to?" he demanded.

"We have business elsewhere," said the professor, stepping ahead of Johnny to confront the man. "Of course you can keep the money I paid you, but we have to leave at once. Something came up very unexpectedly."

The man spat onto the sandy ground. "Yeah. I just
bet
it did. When I caught sight o' that ol' witch leavin' the place, I said to myself, 'Andy McDuff, you jist better make sure them three ain't stealin' you blind.' So I come over t' take a gander. You know what, fellas? I think you boys had jist better open them suitcases."

"Nonsense!" roared the professor so loudly that the riot of night insects fell silent for a moment. "You don't happen to have a little thing called a search warrant, do you? It just so happens, my ungrammatical friend, that the United States Constitution protects people against unreasonable searches! Now stuff that in your pipe and smoke it!"

The little man grimaced unpleasantly. He stood in a yellow square of light that came from a front window of the cabin. Johnny saw that McDuff had very bad teeth, what was left of them, McDuff took a stride forward, putting one foot on the bottom step, just below the professor. He said, "Yeah? Constitution, huh? Well, it
also
just so happens that I'm an official sheriff's deputy. I'm the law here on Live Oak Key, mister. An' if I goes in there an' see you've messed up th' place, why, I can toss you in th' clink for vandalism an' malicious mischief. Then I'll get t' look through them suitcases anyhow. So how ya like that, huh?"

The professor gritted his teeth. "Look here, the only thing we're taking that we didn't bring with us is a dusty old book that some former tenant forgot—"

Andy McDuff's mean, cold eyes narrowed at once. "A book, huh? Well, that's my property! You jist han' that book over if y' know what's good for ya!"

The professor's shoulders slumped. "That book is of no possible use to you," he said in a tired voice. "You cannot read it, and it's worthless as an antique. You can't make any money on it. The only one who might care about it at all is a scholar who specializes in old—"

"Shut up, fatty," snarled McDuff. "If ya ain't gonna listen ta reason, I guess I'll jist hafta arrest th' three of ya. Ya like that, huh? Ya
want
these two kids ta have a jail record?"

Slowly the professor turned to look behind him at Johnny and Fergie. "No," he said in a low voice. "I can't let that happen." To Johnny's surprise, the professor winked at him. The old man set his suitcase down and opened it. He rummaged inside and took out a book- shaped parcel wrapped in brown paper. "Here you are," he said, his voice defeated. "Although what good it will do you, I cannot say."

"Good enough," sneered McDuff, taking the wrapped book. "Now git out o' here! An' don't ya ever come back."

"No fear of that," said the professor. He was already lashing his suitcase to the rear fender of his bike. "Come, gentlemen. We don't have a moment to lose."

A second later all three were on their bikes, pumping away. Behind them, Andy McDuff stood in the middle of the road, clutching the book to his chest. Johnny pedaled so hard that soon he was gasping for air. The sun had been down for more than half an hour, leaving just a smear of twilight over the Gulf to the west. The road was hard to see. The unpaved track was a gray glimmer, and the trees on either side were solid walls of blackness from which a million insects screeched and chattered.

But soon Johnny saw ahead the lights of the stores that clustered around the docks. A few moments later he leaned his bike against the side of the Sand Dollar Store, which was closed for the night. "If only the water taxi is still running," grunted the professor.

They were out of luck. No one was in the booth. They looked at each other for a few seconds. Fergie slapped at his face. "Great," he said. "We're gonna be stuck here all night, an' these mosquitoes are gonna drain us of every drop of blood. They'll find our poor, shriveled bodies in th' morning—"

"Oh, hush, Byron," said the professor. "You're just going to spook Johnny."

"He doesn't need to," said Johnny miserably. "I'm spooked already." The professor patted his shoulder, and then Johnny heard a man whistling "Hearts of Oak," an old British Navy song. "What's th' matter, folks?" asked a man's voice from the land side of the pier. "Need a lift?"

Johnny recognized the voice. It was Mr. Weatherall, from whom he and his dad had rented the
Swordfish.
"Hi, Mr. Weatherall," he said, stepping toward him. "We sure do! I'm Johnny Dixon. Remember me?"

Mr. Weatherall stepped beneath a light that threw a round puddle of yellow illumination at the head of the pier. "Why, of course! You an' your dad gave me a couple of nice fish. What's the trouble, folks?"

Professor Childermass said, "My good man, we were planning to spend a night on the island, but we got into a disagreement with the villain who runs Pirate's Cove. Now we need to get back to the mainland."

Mr. Weatherall chuckled and shook his head. "Andy McDuff, huh? Well, he's no friend of mine! Too big for his britches, if you ask me. Loves to boss people around. I'm just about to head home to Alachamokee myself, so if you three will climb into that green dinghy yonder, I'll be pleased to run you across."

The dinghy was small and rusty and smelled an awful lot like fish that had been out of the water too long, but Johnny was glad to crouch in the bow as Mr. Weatherall started the sputtering outboard motor. They zipped across the dark bay, winding between lighted buoys, and finished up at the same dock the water taxi had left from earlier that day. Professor Childermass tried to pay Mr. Weatherall, but the boat owner said, "Forget it. Anybody who don't get along with Andy McDuff is okay in my book. Y'all be careful, now, y' hear?"

Johnny, Fergie, and the professor hurried back up the dark alley to the parking lot where they had left their rental car. They all piled in, the professor started the engine, and with a loud screech of tires, they roared off toward Tallahassee.

"Suppose we can get an airplane tonight?" Fergie asked.

"I have no idea, Byron," returned the professor. "However, I want to be far away from Live Oak Key as quickly as possible."

"It's just too bad you had to give him the book," said Fergie.

"That is exactly why we need to get away," said the professor with a sharp, short laugh.

"What do you mean?" asked Johnny.

The professor chuckled again. "John, my boy, I am afraid that Mr. McDuff is going to be sorely disappointed. When Madam Lumiere warned us that someone was coming, I prepared for an emergency. I wrapped the book up in brown paper. But just to be on the safe side, I also wrapped up the Gideon Bible that was in my bedroom. And on the steps, I pulled what is technically known as the old switcheroo. I kept the mystic manuscript that nearly took Byron's fingers off, and I handed the Good Book over to Mr. McDuff. I hope he reads it! He's just the sort who could use some moral instruction!"

"Way to go, Prof!" crowed Fergie. "You know, you're gettin'
sneaky
in your old age!"

"Hah!" retorted the professor. "To quote Mr. A1 Jolson, Byron, 'You ain't seen nothin' yet.' Why, back in World War One, when I was in Army Intelligence, I pulled off some snazzy tricks that left the enemy wondering what had hit them! I..."

Johnny relaxed with a sigh. As the car sped north through the Florida night, he held on to a little spark of hope. He did not understand how, and he did not know why, but the magical book might be the key to saving his father's life. Johnny had been living on his nerves for days. He had been so high strung that he had slept very little, and he had eaten far less than he needed to keep going. Now he felt on the verge of collapse. Clutching tight to that one little gleam of hope, he fell asleep as the car rocked through the night and the professor's voice droned on.

* * *

A few hours after he had stopped the three at the foot of the steps, Mr. Andy McDuff unlocked the door of a fishing shack on the south tip of Live Oak Key. He carried a flashlight, which he used to locate a candle. Then he lit the candle, and used it to light another dozen.

The thirteen candles were all black. They illuminated a strange room, which took up the whole interior of the square little house. It measured thirteen feet wide, thirteen feet long, and thirteen feet from floor to ceiling.

The room had no windows. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all painted a flat black. It was the color of midnight in the middle of the most forsaken swamp on earth.

On the floor was a circle drawn in a vivid blood red. The circle held a pentagram, a five-pointed star. Each point of the star had a different Hebrew letter inscribed in it, and words written in the unknown script used in the magic book filled the spaces between the points.

McDuff looked at his wristwatch. It was one minute to midnight. He went to the center of the pentagram and knelt. He took the wrapped book from inside his jacket and laid it on the floor in front of him. By the wavering yellow light of the candles he watched the minute hand of his watch crawl closer and closer to the twelve.

When the time was exactly midnight, McDuff raised his hands and held them straight out, palms up. "Nyarlat-Hotep!" he intoned, his voice deep and booming, very different from its normal speaking pitch. "Hear me, O spirit of Nyarlat-Hotep! Hear me, Ancient One! Attend me, Master Who Was and Will Be! Lo, thy servant has done thy bidding!"

The candles did not go completely out, but the light in the room changed. Each flame burned blue and dim, and the darkness became almost thick enough to feel.

A purring, inhuman voice said, "Hast thou spilled the blood of mine enemies? Hast thou put them to sword and flame?"

"I found the book!" said McDuff in a frightened, whiny tone. "The one with a mind of its own! The one that could open the doorway! It got away from you, but I found it and brought it back! You can take it to your world, O Lurker on the Threshold! Then no one on earth can stand against you! You can make your sacrifice and gain your power over your world and over this one!"

A darker shape gathered in the air before McDuff, as if a charcoal-gray fog were collecting. It had the vague shape of a skull, and it seemed to wear a demonic triumphant grin. From its dark sockets blazed two red eyes, glaring and filled with hate. "The Grimoire of Frascati!" thundered the voice. "Had I gained full strength when I entered the mind of the sleeping mortal Harrison Dixon, I would have used his body to destroy that gateway! Show me! Show me the book now!"

"Here it is!" With hands shaking as if he had a terrible case of palsy, Andy McDuff unwrapped the brown paper. "I hope you'll reward me for this," he said. "I hadda fight three big tough men t'—"

He broke off in confusion. He held in his hands a black book. On the cover in gilt script were the words "Holy Bible."

The silence was deafening.

McDuff dropped the book to the floor. He scrambled to his feet. "No," he said wildly, throwing up his arms to shield his head. "No! It wasn't my fault! It wasn't—"

He exploded into a ball of fire.

As dawn rose the next morning, two fishermen saw wreaths of gray smoke drifting from the south end of Live Oak Key. They rowed ashore to investigate and found the ashes of an old fishing shack. It had burned completely. In the center of the ruin, they were horrified to see a blackened human skeleton. The intense heat had shriveled the bones and had reduced some of the ribs to gray powder. "Look at that," one of the men said. "Wonder who it coulda been."

The other man shook his head. "Only way they'll be able t' tell is th' teeth," he said. "Prob'ly some drunk come in here t' sleep an' set himself on fire with a cigarette or sumpin'. Say, don't ol' Andy McDuff own this place?"

"Yup," the first man said. "And won't he be mad when he finds out somebody burned it to th' ground! Joe, what's this here?"

He stooped to pick up something from the ashes. "It's a Bible," Joe said, looking over his friend's shoulder. "Ain't it burned?"

"Not even scorched," the first man said. "If this don't beat all."

"Well, we better get on into the settlement," Joe said. "I expect ol' Andy will want to know about this as soon as possible."

"Yeah," his friend agreed. "I guess we better not touch nothin'." He put the Bible carefully back on the ground, and the two left it with the gilt title gleaming in the morning sun.