Chapter Nineteen

The Pavilion

Instinct told me to run to the shoreline, the place haunted by the children of the bay. I heard the front doorknob rattle. I couldn’t remember whether I had locked it and stood frozen by the coffee table, just out of eyeshot of the intruder. The crash of breaking glass shattered the silence, and I sprinted to action. I flipped the back lights off and then headed for the back door. Once there I slipped on my shoes and grabbed the overcoat which I had carelessly discarded onto the office floor earlier. I let myself out as quietly as I could.

I sprinted across the backyard while slipping an arm into the coat. Comically, I was dressed more for a funeral than a chase but there was no time for a change of wardrobe. I made it to the boardwalk and then jumped off it onto the beach. No one would be able to see me here.

I inched my head cautiously above the unlit planks of wood and got a clear view into my many-windowed house. Three men made their way from room to lighted room as if in search of something. I recognized two of the men. One was VanLannen, that asshole cop who had last been here to retrieve the first dead child. The second was Cleveland Umbra himself. The third man was a stranger.

The intruders all wore black jackets and black slacks, dressing the part of thieves in the night. I wished I had a cell phone with me to call the police but then thought better of it. VanLannen was a cop and the third asshole was probably one as well. Umbra reached for the back lights, and I quickly ducked beneath the boardwalk.

They were searching for me. But why? Had they known about Isabel’s folder? Or her Kesemanetow? Did they have a team of spies? The crunch of footfall upon stone called my attention to the south end of the boardwalk. Amanda reappeared in the night.

She beckoned me toward her. I crouched below the cedar planks and clumsily reached her just as the back door creaked open. We were beyond the range of the outdoor lights and, together, crept along the waterfront toward a wooded point several hundred yards to the south. Toward the amusement park.

“What do they want?” I whispered to the deceased teen.

“How should I know?” she answered with adolescent defiance. Her hair and dark clothing were soaking wet as if she had just come back from a swim. Her skin was gray, but her eyes were clear. We sat huddled behind a clump of bushes and cast our attention toward my lighted backyard. The three thieves continued searching for me.

“You gave the message to my folks.” It was more of a statement than a question but I nodded, nonetheless.

“Thanks.”

I smiled. The moon suddenly broke free of its cloud cover, and a rush of white light fell upon the shore, illuminating my companion. Amanda wore stone earrings, each engraved with a familiar symbol. A circle hovered above the intersection of two lines, one horizontal and the other diagonal. The True Path.

“Where should we go?” I was dividing my attention between the three pursuers and the dead teen. The cloud cover returned, casting the night in darkness again.

“Let’s get away from here,” she instructed. She led southward along the moonlit beach, and I followed. We walked for several miles until we reached the amusement park.

“The pavilion is unlocked,” she whispered excitedly.

Our footsteps slapped upon the drab cement floor. The concession stand shutters were rolled down and locked tight. Cheap plastic stools were stacked upon rectangular picnic tables scattered throughout the otherwise vacant square space. We set up camp inside an empty utility room. I turned on an overhead light. Amanda’s face looked unusually pale beneath the unnatural lighting, and her clothing dripped water upon the thirsty concrete. I needed to find a living, breathing, grownup friend.

“If those three know who you are, it can only be because the Binders told them. Those three lost you tonight. The Binders will not.”

“Who are they?” I was not asking about the three stalkers.

“Those who lose their way in this life may not find their way back to the Center after death. Those souls wander the waterfront, searching. They grow angry. They follow the way of the Miskenupik, binding others from the Center. They become the Path Breakers, the soulless. Demons.”

That got me wondering. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your presence here, Amanda, but should I be worried about your soul? Is something keeping you from the Center?”

She looked at me as if I were an imbecile but said nothing. Her blank stare informed me I was talking to an adolescent, albeit a dead one. “You are here to help me,” I said. Her eyes finally lit up as she broke into a smile.

“I was chosen to assist you, seeing how you’re pretty pathetic.”

I was willing to ignore the slight, since she was going out of her way to save my bacon. “What about the children of the bay?”

She gave me another blank stare.

“You know,” I said, “the children who roam the waterfront. The ones who have been haunting the peninsula for centuries. Can they also help me?”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she had a faraway look. “They are the children who cannot find their way home.” She turned back to face me and took my hand. “They were sacrificed by the Miskenupik.” The word referred both to the tarot cards created by the Great Deceiver but also to the people who followed the way of the broken path. Umbra.

“The cards can only be awakened through sacrifice. Sacrifice leads to binding.”

We make self-sacrifice. They sacrifice others. Isabel’s words. That got me wondering. “If they were sacrificed by the Miskenupik, how did that little girl escape to find me?”

Amanda smiled at me as if I had stumbled upon a very important question. “There is a gateway between Paths,” she said, “and some of the children have discovered it. Still, they won’t be free until they find a guide to lead them.”

I must have looked a bit overwhelmed. Amanda reassured me. “You cannot help them right now. Your job is to save one.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as though she was simplifying things by assigning me a basic task, like running to the hardware store for bolts.

“I am a Traveler,” she said, “and can come and go as I wish. There are doorways along the waterfront through which I can enter to find you. For now you need rest.”

I wasn’t about to call it quits for the night. Three followers of an ancient, evil religion were after me. The ghosts of dead children were begging for my help. Their souls were in my hands. Plus, the wet concrete seemed a poor choice for a bed. Amanda gently brushed my cheeks with her hands. They were surprisingly warm. I felt suddenly relaxed. Sleepy. Safe.

I wrapped myself more snugly into my funeral attire and sat upon the floor, away from the small puddle of water. I closed my eyes. Just a moment of rest.