The Beast Under the Wizard's Bridge (15 page)

There was more, but it told Lewis very little that was useful. He was more convinced than ever, though, that his guess had been right. He wished he knew where Uncle Jonathan and Mrs. Zimmermann had gone.

Time seemed to crawl by. Lewis made a sandwich from the cold roast beef, but he ate it with little appetite. His injured knees felt stiff. At least the lump on his head was shrinking, though he had a spectacularly black left eye. He tossed nearly half of his sandwich in the garbage and paced the floor restlessly. The old house grew darker
as the rain passed and the sun sank, and Lewis became more and more nervous. Every slap of a wet tree branch on a window made him jump. Each creak and groan of a floorboard under his feet startled him. He kept walking to the front door, opening it, and peering out into the street to see whether Rose Rita had arrived.

On one of these trips, he noticed something odd. To the right of the front door was a coatrack with a mirror in it. For as long as Lewis had lived in the house, the mirror had been magical, sometimes showing his face but more often scenes from strange, distant lands. Now light was flashing out of it, angular spears of crimson that danced and shimmered on the opposite wall. Lewis swallowed hard and looked into the glass.

It showed the comet, red as blood, against a dark night sky. The image rippled as if Lewis were peering at it through water. Sometimes it faded to a dull rusty color, and sometimes it blazed to a red so bright that it hurt to look at it. Lewis threw his hand up to shield his vision, and then he saw, just above the comet, two staring eyes—human eyes. They shifted rapidly, as if their owner were looking for someone. Suddenly, they locked on to Lewis.

Lewis could see the shriveled, grim face of Mephistopheles Moote. It hung there in the mirror, staring out balefully. The thin, wrinkled lips twitched into a snear. Words flowed into Lewis's head, not spoken, but coming like a thought: “Well, well—‘Billy,' the boy who was hurt! The snoop!”

Lewis could not tear his gaze away.

The voice in his head said, “How is your ‘sister,' Lewis Barnavelt? Is her name really Pottinger? Do you think she and her wretched family are safe from my anger? And does your foolish uncle know that he has only until midnight to live? The Earth will be swept clean of puny humans—and only I will live on forever in another form! The Great Old Ones shall claim dominion again! The triumph of the Red Star will be complete!”

Lewis thought he would lose his mind. An impression of high-pitched, hateful laughter filled his skull. He felt frozen. Then a sound, a real sound, jarred him: the harsh metallic jangle of the old mechanical doorbell to his left. He jerked his eyes toward the door, and in that instant the mirror went dark. The only vestige left was the angry howl of Mephistopheles Moote, fading like a mosquito's hum in Lewis's brain.

Lewis threw himself at the door and wrenched it open. Rose Rita stood there, her hand still out to turn the key of the doorbell again. “Lewis! What happened? You look awful!”

Lewis dragged her into the study, away from the mirror, and blurted out everything that had happened. “Midnight!” she said when he had finished. “It's already nearly six!”

“That's not all,” Lewis told her.

“I know,” she said. “You think you've solved the riddle in Elihu Clabbernong's will.”

“I don't just think so—I know so!” said Lewis urgently.

“Spill it!” exclaimed Rose Rita.

Lewis's words tumbled out as he explained what a
“separable soul” was. Then he said, “So here's what must have happened. Old Jebediah Clabbernong used a magic spell to take his soul out of his body and put it into something. Elihu knew that his uncle wasn't really dead when he had his body cremated. Somehow he found whatever it was that held Jebediah's soul. For some reason he couldn't destroy it—”

“Why not?” asked Rose Rita.

Lewis gave her an irritated glance. “How should I know? Maybe because it would let that monster we saw break loose! Or maybe it was for some other magical reason. I don't know! But instead of destroying the thing that holds Jebediah's soul, Elihu hid it away. And I know where he put it!”

Rose Rita scowled at him. “Don't keep me on pins and needles, Lewis! Where?”

Triumphantly, Lewis quoted the will: “‘The key to finding the life is, at the very bottom, a healthy heart.'” When Rose Rita just stared blankly at him, he added, “Meanings have other meanings, remember? Like ‘life' could mean ‘soul.' And if you're healthy, you're—?”

Rose Rita shrugged. “In good shape?”

Lewis shook his head impatiently. “Try again!”

Rolling her eyes, Rose Rita said, “You're strong. You're doing fine. You're well.”

“Bingo!” said Lewis. “The key to finding the life—that would be old Jebediah's soul—is at the bottom, a well heart.
Well
, Rose Rita.”

Behind her round spectacles, Rose Rita's eyes widened. “Well! Old Creepy's soul is hidden in something
that's in the well at the Clabbernong place!”

Lewis nodded. “And we have to get it out,” he said.

For a moment the two friends stared at each other. Lewis didn't know about Rose Rita, but the very thought of returning to that horrible place made him feel sick.

But somehow, they had to do it.

Otherwise, they—and the rest of the world—had barely six hours to live.

“We'll never get out there and back on our bikes in time,” wailed Rose Rita. “What can we do?”

“We have to try!” declared Lewis. He dashed down into the cellar and returned with a coil of rope and a long, heavy chrome-plated flashlight. He handed these to Rose Rita and ran up to his room for one final thing. Hurrying downstairs again, Lewis yelled, “Come on!”

They started out the back way, and Rose Rita cried, “Look! Mrs. Zimmermann is at home!” Sure enough, the side parlor window of Mrs. Zimmermann's house was yellow with light. Lewis and Rose Rita ran over and pounded on the door.

To Lewis's surprise, a kindly woman opened it. “Lewis!” she said. “Rose Rita!”

“Mrs. Jaeger!” Rose Rita blurted out. “What are you doing here?”

Mrs. Mildred Jaeger gave her a sad kind of smile. “Well, dear, you know my magic isn't the most reliable. All the other magicians are gathering for something big tonight. Mrs. Zimmermann forgot an amulet she may need, and, well, I was the one they could most easily spare, so I volunteered.” She held up a small white box. “I hope it's what Mrs. Zimmermann needs.”

“We
can help, Mrs. Jaeger,” said Lewis. “But you'll have to drive us out into the country.”

“What happened to your poor eye?” asked Mrs. Jaeger.

“I had a bump on the head, but it's not bad,” Lewis told her. “Mrs. Jaeger, you'll have to help us out.” When she looked hesitant, he added, “It's very important! We know all about the red comet and the Mootes.”

“Oh, dear,” said Mrs. Jaeger. “Then I suppose I'd better drive you! My car's at the curb.”

The three of them piled into Mrs. Jaeger's 1939 Chevrolet, and Rose Rita breathlessly gave her directions. By that time the last few clouds were breaking up over in the south. The sun was moving to the west. Lewis hoped that they could reach the Clabbernong place before it set. He didn't want to be there after dark.

Mrs. Jaeger was a very careful driver, and even when she was speeding to the rescue, she puttered along at about forty miles per hour. They drove across the new bridge, made the turn at the little crossroads store, and
reached the blighted Clabbernong farm just before seven. The sun was a bloated red disk, low in the sky. As they climbed out of the car, Lewis's head spun. It was not just the knock he had received earlier, but also the stench of the place.

They trooped behind the house, past the caved-in storm cellar—Rose Rita gave it a very wide berth—and came to the brick well. Only then did Lewis fully realize what he had to do. Someone had to be lowered into the dark pit. He couldn't ask Mrs. Jaeger to go. And Rose Rita was deathly afraid of dark, closed places.

He had to do it.

He stood with his hands grasping the bricks at the rim of the well. Rising up on tiptoe, he stared down into the darkness. The well shaft was about five feet in diameter. Shining the flashlight down, Lewis could see moss-covered bricks, and perhaps twenty feet down, the reflection of his light on the face of the dark water. Rose Rita touched his shoulder. “Can you do it?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“I'll have to,” replied Lewis, though he dreaded the thought of descending into the shaft. They tested the iron framework that held the windlass and bucket and found them strong, so Lewis tied one end of the rope to that. He looped the other end around his waist. Rose Rita unlaced one of her sneakers and threaded the lace through the ring at the base of the flashlight. She hung the light around Lewis's neck. It felt heavy. “If I get in trouble down there, can you get me back up again?” he asked Rose Rita and Mrs. Jaeger.

“We'll manage somehow,” said Rose Rita with a sickly smile. “Be careful!”

Lewis coiled the rope and then climbed over the edge of the well. He tried to brace his feet on the mossy bricks, but they were very slippery. The rope burned his hands as he let himself down inch by inch. The hanging flashlight showed him just enough of the well shaft to see that nothing otherworldly or monstrous clung to the bricks. Otherwise, it wasn't much help.

After what seemed like hours, Lewis reached the end of the rope. Dangling there and holding on to the line with his left hand, he shone the light downward. His toes swung about a yard above the water. It was still as a mirror, black as pitch. He could not tell if it was only a few inches deep or if it went down to an unknown abyss. Twisting on the rope, Lewis looked all the way around the shaft. Nothing.

And then—

From the edges of what looked like a loose brick below him, he saw a faint glimmer of red light. Steadying himself, Lewis peered down. The brick must have been pried from the wall of the shaft, then replaced. It stuck out about an inch or so. The red glow leaked out all around it.

But it was maddeningly out of reach.

Grunting with effort, Lewis let go of the flashlight, letting it hang, and tugged at the knots. If he could lower himself another two feet, he might be able to—

The knots gave way suddenly! Lewis's injured left hand supported all his weight—and then the rope began
to slip through it! Lewis made a desperate grab, missed, and plunged into cold water, shouting in alarm.

The frigid water came to Lewis's knees. He stood on slippery mud. The loose brick was now above him, but at least he could reach it.

The trouble was that he couldn't reach the rope. It dangled tantalizingly close, but his outstretched fingers could not quite brush it. Far overhead, he could see Rose Rita and Mrs. Jaeger looking down the shaft. He heard Rose Rita's echoing voice: “What happened?”

“I fell!” Lewis shouted. “I have to have more rope! Hurry!” They began to haul the rope up, and to keep from going completely insane, Lewis pried out the loose brick.

When he saw what was behind it, he knew he had truly solved the riddle.

Glowing with its own light was a jewel. It might have been a ruby, but a huge one—at least three inches across. It had been carved into the shape of a heart. Not a valentine heart, but a model of an actual human heart.

And it beat with its own evil inner life. The glow pulsed regularly, like a real heartbeat. Lewis quickly grabbed the jewel and forced it into his jeans pocket. He was panting for breath, feeling as if he were freezing.

Then he heard sounds from above. He looked up and could not believe what he was seeing.

Rose Rita was sliding down the rope toward him.

Lewis knew how terrified she must be.

And suddenly his own fear fell away.

Rose Rita hated closed-in spaces more than anything
in the world. Yet she was sliding steadily toward Lewis. If Rose Rita could come to rescue him, he could try to save his uncle and his friends.