Chapter 30: The Bramwell-Gates Legend Part Two

“Billy. Billy.”

At first, I didn’t hear Gene. It took me several minutes to break from my rampant imagining of slaying an entire campus of people.

“Gene, I’m not a mass murderer. I let bugs out of the house.”

“What are you talking about, man? I never said anything about you killing anyone. Didn’t you hear what I said?”

I stared blankly at him.

“I said, I think you could be responsible for the massacre of the students at Bramwell-Gates Arts Institute if you don’t successfully hunt and kill every member of The Theater of Sins.”

There was a slight bit of relief in his words. He hadn’t called me a murderer, no. He just placed the death of the entire campus on my shoulders.

So if I’m not a murderer, why do I feel like one?

I couldn’t shake my vivid dream. Was it just a coincidence, given its timing with Gene’s revelation?

“Do me a favor. Recite the rhyme of the Bramwell-Gates Legend.”

“You and…and everyone on campus know how it goes. It was a terrible campaign to smear my family’s name and the school. It took my great-grandfather many years to undo the damage it caused. Is that necessary?”

“I’m hoping things would click if you heard yourself saying it out loud.”

“Okay. I’ll play along if it gets us out of here any quicker.

“Woe to those of the great art institute
Their wicked works are of ill repute
They laid their foundation on the side of the mountain
On the very location of the Devil’s Fountain
Dark souls, dark minds
Passing their secrets through family lines
The souls of youth they will empower
With their creative seeds, they will devour
When the reaper appears
They will be cut off
Under the Moon’s Sadness the final hour is surely near
The sins they worship will come to bear
Mangled, burned, and disemboweled
Not a single one of them will be spared.”

There was an eerie silence when I finished. Gene’s eyes searched me with expectancy. Then, finally deflated, his voice cracked with a frustrated tone: “Did you not just hear yourself speaking all those keywords?”

“Nope. Just empty words used by liars.”

“Think about what’s going on right now!”

“Are you talking about the Campus Slugger? Hell, everyone called the so-called ghost woman of Lyndsey Hall the reaper…how many years back? Every ten years or so, there’s a new reaper. Guess what? We’re still here.”

“Ugh, no,” Gene blurted dramatically, flailing his arms.

“Just spit it out, Gene. I’m not getting it. If you’re talking about the Moon’s Sadness, that’s a stretch.”

“No, it’s not. But there are other things greater that you’re missing. Billy, there is only one reaper in this room.”

I stood up, annoyed at what I felt was Gene’s second accusation. “Gene. I told you I’m not killing—” Mid-sentence, it smacked me in the face. “Hellie?!”

“And the ‘No Sh#t’ award goes to Mr. Bramwell-Gates.”

We both looked over at Hellie. Watching herself wiggle her toes must have been enthralling. She must’ve kicked her boots and socks off somewhere during Gene and I’s talk.

“Gene, you can’t be serious.”

“Damn straight, I am. I’m certain of it. What group did we learn about after discovering Hellie was a hellhound reaper?”

At that point, we were in sync. I knew exactly where he was going. “The Theater of Sins.”

Then, in unison, we both quoted the same passage of the rhyme: “The sins they worship will come to bear.”

Immediately after we finished speaking, Gene declared, “So the cult that was giving you the shakedown must worship The Theater of Sins. Oh, and let’s not forget, ‘They will be cut off.‘”

“The collapse of the Bramwell-Gates Bridge.”

Gene flashed a without-a-doubt smile and made the eye-to-eye gesture with his fingers. I knew he was elated that we were on the same page, but I felt myself sinking into a quagmire.

If parts of the legend are real, is all of it real? Is my family holding dark secrets?

“I call bullshit. It must be a coincidence. The legend is a complete fabrication. Lies told by Thayer Loomis when great-great-great-grand Avery ended their partnership after Loomis tried to force himself on my great-great-great-gram Lucena. The removal of Loomis’ name from the art institute’s title pissed him off, so he scammed the old Evening Gazette newspaper into printing that rhyme and other trash articles. Unfortunately, the townsfolk of Milicent believed him. In their twisted eyes, the imported students were miscreants and dark individuals tied to almost every cult in the world.”

“Billy, I grew up there, but the old timers still give me the creeps. They still don’t like anyone associated with the institute. When I went to the town’s library archive for this, a few townies gave me the runaround.”

Gene grabbed a thin greenish book off the table, held it up, and opened it.

“This little book about local lore has an explanation for what’s troubling you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I get why you’re defensive about the legend. We all know it was used as a smear tactic, but some parts came from something much older. Listen to this:

‘The wicked ones bared their souls on the side of the mountain
On the very location of the Devil’s Fountain
When the reaper appears
They will be cut off
Under the Moon’s Sadness the final hour is near
The sins they worship will bring despair
Mangled, burned, and disemboweled
Not a single one of them will be spared’

This is a legend of a trickster spirit from the ancestor tribes of the area. Supposedly, the trickster emerged from the thin rift at the Devil’s Fountain and got trapped on this plane. Its captors learned to siphon demonic power from the trickster’s sacred grounds. They used it to control people through their imagination. As a punishment, all who participated in the stolen mysteries were fated to die horrible deaths. Sound familiar?”

“Hell, most of it was plagiarized by Loomis and the Evening Gazette.”

“Pretty much. They stole the most frightening parts, then sprinkled in the crap about your family and our school.”

“How have I never heard of this? Good sleuthing, Gene.”

“Thanks, but if it weren’t for Rules of the Black Arts for Advanced Users and our brainstorming session the other night, I wouldn’t have found it. It sucks that I’ve been thinking about the legend wrong all these years. But I’m on track now. I have one more thing to show you.”

Filing through a stack, Gene selected a sheet of paper and placed it in front of me. It was a photocopy of a portrait of Thayer Loomis with a timepiece dangling under his folded hands.

“See the symbol on the pocket watch. May I see your book?”

I reached into my backpack, took out the object of Gene’s request, and handed it to him.

He swiftly thumbed to a section within the book. Once his eyes widened, I knew he had found what he was searching for.

“It’s exact. Look.”

I peered over at the page he held up. On it was a symbol, the emblem of The Theater of Sins—the same one on Thayer Loomis’ watch. I looked over at Gene.

“Thayer was a member of the cult! Maybe even the leader?”

“It looks like it. So, do you still think the legend doesn’t’ have ties with The Theater of Sins, Hellie, you? Well, indirectly you since you’re Hellie’s master.”

I didn’t know what to say. The legend never carried any weight with me. It was nothing more than a lie, a fantasy. But I understood Gene and others’ fascination with it. The allure of gaining powers from the Devil’s Fountain and its subversive undertones was enticing, especially with this valley’s unexplained and nigh supernatural occurrences. But based on what Gene had presented, it was becoming less of a myth and more real, which meant death was coming.

The most dreadful words of the legend intertwisted with the images from my dream and danced in my thoughts, forcing me to clench my throat.

Mangled… I saw myself stepping over a sea of contorted bodies littered on the campus grounds.

Burned… Fireballs danced off my hand and combusted on students running for their lives.

Disemboweled… Hellie, in her beast-dog form, slashed and ripped out the innards of anyone in her path.

I stood, overwhelmed with the barbarity I had unleashed in my dreams. The acts aligned perfectly with the Bramwell-Gates Legend.

What if they become real, and Hellie and I fulfill the prophecy?

“What’s wrong, Billy?”

I stood quietly, looking down at the floor, then it rolled off my lips, “Not a single one of them will be spared.”

“I know it’s a lot to bear, but you and Hellie already killed one of the Sins. Together, you can kill them all and save everyone.”

“I can’t, Gene. We can’t. Grab your boots, Hellie. We’re leaving.”

“What do you mean you can’t? You know what will happen if you don’t stop the Sins from gaining corporeal form. The world ends.”

“I…I…just have a feeling this path leads to corruption for me.”

Gene said nothing as I stuffed Rules of the Black Arts for Advanced Users into my pack.

“Come, Hellie. Grab your socks.”

Hellie, holding her boots, stood clueless, and I didn’t have the patience to teach her what socks were. At that point, the small room felt like it was collapsing in on me. I had to get out. I snatched Hellie’s hand and pulled her toward the door. Before I exited, I softly said, “Sorry.”

I needed to feel the outside air immediately. Luckily, I knew of a secret corridor on the second floor that led to the roof.

HUFF. PUFF.

I felt relief as soon as I hit the cool outside air. My breathing grounded me and helped ward off unwanted thoughts. I stretched several times, opening my airways to maximize the effect. A strange impulse batted at me, which forced me to shoot a look at Hellie. She was turning her head from side to side, probing with her eyes. I could tell she was trying to understand what had bothered me.

“Come here, girl.”

I held out my hand, and she placed hers into mine. Unlike in the reading room, I gently folded my hand over hers. I then slowly led her to the edge of the building. Atop the four-story library, we stood, looking out at the vibrant, teeming grounds and jaw-dropping marble, stone, and glass buildings surrounded by large woodland trees.

“In case you’re wondering, Hellie, that’s the Devil’s Fountain.”

I pointed to the canal that cut through the landscape’s center, emptying into Moondog Lake.

With my mind, I shared several memories of my favorite places on campus. I even reminded Hellie that she had shared time with me in those places in her former life when she was Shellie.

Can you remember being Shellie?

But, as in all the other cases, when I mentioned who she once was, she displayed a stone expression.

Far off, on the other side of our location, I spotted Grayson Hall. It was the tallest building on campus and the scene of the atrocities Hellie and I committed in my dreams. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the clarity of the dream. It was as if I had lived it.

“Maybe the dream was meant to warn us.” I squeezed her hand tighter and said, “Hellie, we can’t allow ourselves to go down that path. Maybe someone else can stop The Theater of Sins?”

Even though I asked the question, I knew the answer in my gut. I just wanted to wash my hands of the whole thing.

“We have a second chance at friendship. Why should we involve ourselves in the games of gods and monsters? If the world loves Sin, let them have it. Until this shitshow burns, Hellie, you and I will enjoy being besties again.”

Amid that moment, a wave of positivity struck me.

A few days ago, I was only focused on one thing—becoming the best damn magician on campus… No, in the world.

I quickly dropped my bag to the ground and took out Rules of the Black Arts for Advanced Users. I turned to Hellie and smiled. Now that I had my grimoire, nothing could stop me from achieving my goal.

“Come on, Hellie. The world can go screw itself. Let’s go do some magic.”

And with that, I took Hellie and myself off the insane path we were heading down and returned to the normalcy of my life.

THE END OF BOOK I