The Afterlife Academy (17 page)

“Y
es, Frederick, what is it?” Darwin looked up as his assistant stepped into the office.

“Apologies, sir, for the interruption. There's an Agent here to see you,” Frederick announced.

“Did I miss an appointment?” Darwin scratched the side of his mouth with his finger, glancing at his planner.

“No, sir. But he says it's urgent. He came straight from the field.”

Darwin leaned forward. “Who is it?” he whispered.

“Ronald Logan.”

Darwin mouthed the name twice, shaking his head. Then his eyes widened a bit. “Ah, yes, one of the three Logan brothers.” He examined his pocket watch. “I have that meeting to attend, as you know, so this will have to be brief. Do send him in.”

Frederick exited the office, and when the door reopened, Ronald Logan entered.

“Hello there, Ronald, my boy. Please, have a seat.” Darwin smiled and motioned toward the chair in front of his desk.

“Thank you, Mr. Pollock.” Ronald sat down. “I'm sorry for not making an appointment. I didn't have much time.”

“That's all right. I am in a bit of a hurry, but I always have time for my young Agents. Now, what is this urgent matter you have to discuss?”

“I think someone has found
The Summoner's Handbook.
”

“The Summoner's Handbook?”
Darwin pressed the tips of his fingers together. “Why do you think this?”

“Because I've seen it, sir. With my own eyes.”

“Your HLT has come into possession of this book?”

“Not mine. Walter Prairie's.”

Darwin opened his mouth, but didn't speak. He looked once more at his pocket watch. “Walter Prairie,” he said.

“He's in over his head. He doesn't know what he's doing, and he and Charlie—”

“Charlie?” Darwin chimed in.

“Walter's HLT,” Ronald explained. “They don't stand a chance against a horde of demons.”

“I think you must be exaggerating, son. I find it hard to believe that something as potentially dangerous as
The Summoner's Handbook
could have gone under our radar like that.”

“I'm not exaggerating. And Walter and I think there's more going on too.”

“Like what?”

“We think someone up here is trying to help the demons.”

“Here? That's preposterous! I know you're only trying to help, but you are a new Agent. Do you understand what you're implying? Corruption. Deceit. In the Afterlife Academy! Those are serious allegations.” Darwin spoke with the patience of wisdom and experience.

Ronald shrank down in his seat. “Not necessarily the Academy, sir. Just someone with access. Like Alton.”

Darwin's brow crinkled, and he showed real concern for the first time. “Alton? Alton Tremonton? Ronald, think about what you're saying. You are suggesting that a Categorizer, a dutiful employee of thirty years, has cruelly and purposefully duped the entire Board of Directors, has somehow made contact with a demon horde, and is orchestrating an attack on an Academy Agent and his target?”

Ronald chewed on his lip. “Well, yeah. Maybe.”

“Mr. Logan, you are an Afterlife Academy Agent. You are assigned to protect an individual. But you are also assigned, at all times, to uphold the standards of this Academy. You are implicating a loyal employee without providing me with any proof. I know you mean well, but you would do well to incorporate some loyalty and trust into your sense of duty, along with your curiosity and ambitious drive, both of which are qualities I admire as well. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir.”

“Don't apologize, young Ronald. You were trying to do what is right, and you make me and the Academy proud in so doing. Now, you had better return to your HLT. You don't want to abandon your first post.”

“No, sir.” Ronald got up and walked toward the door. But he turned around to ask one more question. “Sir, if you don't mind my asking, how did Walter Prairie bypass the Academy?”

“Ah, Walter Prairie. I was informed that he was a special young man. I suspect that is quite true. He is more powerful than we think.”

“Yes, sir.”

Once Ronald had disappeared from the office and the door had closed, Darwin buried his face in his hands.

“Alton Tremonton. It would appear I'm the one who's been duped.”

S
till holding the cocker spaniel, Charlie hopped back into the apartment and slammed the door as the first wave of dogs arrived.

“Get back!” he ordered as a heavy weight smashed against the door. The old wood creaked from the strain. The cocker spaniel scampered free from Charlie's grip and darted under the couch.

“What is that?” his mom demanded.

“Dogs!”
Charlie shouted. “Lots and lots of dogs!”

Another crash, and the sound of splintering wood as the dogs pile-drove themselves against the door. It wouldn't hold much longer.

“We've got to send out a message for help!” Walter said. “Get to the computer!”

Charlie grabbed the hands of his bewildered parents and yanked them toward the hallway, pausing only for a second to pluck his backpack with
The Summoner's Handbook
from the chair. Darcy stood just outside her bedroom door, screaming as her father scooped her up in his arms and followed Charlie into the study.

“Not in here!” Mr. Dewdle grabbed Charlie's sleeve. “There's not enough room!”

But it was too late to pick a different hideout. From out in the living room, the apartment door imploded, and scores of ravenous dogs, entranced by the bat-eared demon, scrambled over one another to get to Charlie.

Charlie's mom locked the door, and his dad propped the top of the desk chair under the doorknob to secure it.

“What's the matter, Charlie? Are you choking?” his mom asked.

Charlie couldn't answer because he was too busy blowing violently on the Feral Whistle, invisible to his parents. But the dogs kept hammering against the door.

“It's not working!” Charlie spat the whistle out in his hand.

“There's probably too many of them,” Walter said.

“You're right, that door's not going to keep them out!” Mr. Dewdle said in response to Charlie's response to Walter. Charlie's flock of caged birds filled the air with agitated screeching.

“How are we supposed to concentrate with all that ruckus?” Walter hollered, trying to drown out their squawks.

Charlie managed to quell the birds with several handfuls of bird feed and then turned his attention to the computer desk.

“Martin, why are all those dogs out there?” Mrs. Dewdle asked. “Do you think someone let them out?”

“Not someone…some
thing.
” Charlie clicked on the computer and tapped his hand anxiously as he waited for the system to boot up. It was time to come clean.

“What are you talking about?”

“Mom, Dad,” Charlie said, his chest heaving, “there's something you need to know about me.” He clicked on the Internet icon and navigated to his email account.

Charlie's sister covered her ears with her hands as the dogs started tearing at the study door. Charlie knew they had only minutes before the dogs found a way to break through.

“Those dogs are being controlled by a monster. I think it's a demon. Though it's not raining, which doesn't make any sense, but I don't really have time to think it through.”

“Dana, what is he talking about?”

Walter dictated as Charlie typed a message to Ronald Logan's email.

Ronald,

We are trapped in the apartment! Dogs are everywhere, and they want to eat us. Send help fast!

Charlie and Walter

Charlie's dad read through the message before Charlie could send it. “Who's Ronald? Who's Walter?”

Taking a deep breath, Charlie began to explain. “Walter is a Guardian Agent sent to help me. He's kind of like a guardian angel.” He swallowed. “He's inside me.”

Charlie's mother groaned in exasperation. “Not this again, Charlie. Haven't we already been through this? These games you play. They're not healthy.”

“It's not a game, Mom! A few days ago, I found
The Summoner's Handbook,
and now all heck is breaking loose. Every demon wants it, and I don't know how to get rid of it. That's why I was late today. I went to Pressley so Walter could talk to Ronald Logan, another Agent. And now we think there may be some sort of conspiracy happening. Though we don't know exactly what kind of conspiracy just yet.” It all made perfect sense in Charlie's mind, but by the haggard looks on his parents' faces and by Walter's soft chuckling in his ear, it was clear that Charlie was failing to deliver the point.

“I see.” Mr. Dewdle dug at the corners of his eyes with his thumbs.

Charlie clacked in another web address, and he cheered when he saw a message from Wisdom Willows in his SpiritSpy.org in-box. “He wrote me!”

“What are you doing now?” his dad demanded. “We need to get out of this room, and then we need to get your head checked by a doctor.”

“Dad, there's nothing wrong with my head. I'm telling you the truth. Now please be quiet while I read this.” Both his parents' mouths clamped shut in surprise. Several dog claws began scratching at the opening beneath the door.

Charlie,

Hope all is well. Good news! There is a way to properly dispose of
The Summoner's Handbook.
It took me a while to find out, but it should be easy enough to do. You'll need to burn it using a Chamber Torch. If you have access to a cemetery with underground tombs, you should be able to find one. If not, I happen to own a couple of torches, but I'm out of town until next week. I'm attending the Wraith Festival in Conrad, Minnesota. Any way you could get here? We can destroy it together.

WW

“Can't we just light it up with a match?” Walter asked.

“Charlie, honey, listen to me.” Charlie's mother knelt down on the floor next to him. “This needs to stop. You've become obsessed. It's going to affect your schoolwork and—”

“Mom, do you really think this is the time to talk about it?” Charlie stared directly into his mother's eyes, causing her to flinch. “Right now, we've got to find some way to keep those dogs out of the room, and then Walter and I have to try to get rid of this book.” He smacked his backpack. “But the one guy who could help us is in— Wait a minute.” He spun back around. “Conrad, Minnesota! That's just across the Iowa border. No more than forty miles away. We could be there in, like, an hour!”

“Why do we want to go there?” Walter asked. “Even if we could burn up the book, do you think those demons will stop chasing us around? We'll just tick them off even more!”

“Wisdom Willows will know what to do. If destroying the book isn't enough, he could probably help us figure out how to send word to the Academy about everything Alton's been doing. They'll send us more protection!”

“You really think this Wisdom guy knows how to do that?”

“He's a genius. He knows everything there is to know about the paranormal world.”

“Who are you talking to?”
Mr. Dewdle's voice boomed above the roar of dogs, sending the birds back into a squawking frenzy. “I've had it! No more talk of spirits or demons or any weird books!” He grabbed Charlie's arms and lifted him to his feet. “We are going to climb out the window, and then we're going to call animal control. After that, you're going to the hospital!”

“But, Dad—”

“Quiet!” His dad went to the window and opened the blinds. “Great! There are at least twenty more dogs down on the road. It's that dumb veterinary clinic! The door's wide open! I'm going to put them out of business, so help me! What are you looking at?” he demanded when he noticed Charlie's pale face.

The dogs were no longer the problem. Floating right outside the window were two red-robed wraiths scraping their claws against the glass.

“We are so dead!” Walter bellowed. “We need a plan, and I don't think we can wait for Ronald to help.”

“What can we do? There's no way out.” Charlie stared at his backpack and then around the room, searching for any form of weapon. The desk drawer contained a stapler, a couple of mechanical pencils, and half a box of paper clips. “None of this stuff will work.”

From beyond the door, the scratching and snarling ceased. The hallway fell completely silent. Charlie cringed and stared at the door.

“Oh, good, maybe they're leaving.” Charlie's mom perked up as she hugged Darcy around the waist.

“Come out and play, Charlie Dewdle,”
a high-pitched voice spoke from out in the hall.

Bumps formed everywhere on Charlie's skin. He looked at his parents, but they hadn't heard the voice.

“I'll call off the dogs if you bring out the book,”
the voice said.

Charlie's mom pressed her ear against the door. “I really think they've left.”

“Get away from the door, Mom!” Charlie ordered. “It's not safe.”

“Walter Prairie?”
the voice cackled.
“Have you nothing to say for yourself?”

“How does it know my name?” Walter asked. “We have to get out of here! I say we open the window and take our chances against the wraiths. If they're anything like the shades, we might be able to fight them off.”

Charlie backed away from the desk, holding the stapler. “I'm not going to fight anything. That will just get us killed.”

“Nothing is going to kill us,” said Charlie's mom.

“Don't be a wuss! It's the only option we have, and I'll help you punch.”

Charlie bumped into the canary cage, and the birds flapped their wings in disapproval as their feed bowl fell to the floor. “Oh boy,” he said. “I think I have a better idea.” Charlie opened his hand and looked down at the Feral Whistle.

Walter sighed in frustration. “We don't have time for any other ideas. And that isn't working on the dogs.”

“I'm not talking about the dogs.” Charlie's head slowly turned as he stared down at the metal birdcages.