The stranger stood in the dark of the basement, listening as the house whispered to him. He could tell something wasn’t right. The house felt violated. Unclean. He would have to repaint the symbols to restore it to its purity. Anoint thy flesh and prepare ye the walls of your houses. The sacred covenant kept.
Naughty John plucked the scrap of Evie’s coat from the edge of the laundry chute. Again, the house whispered to him. A girl. A girl had done this violation. She would pay for her transgression. But first, the house must be prepared in time for tomorrow’s offering.
Whistling the old tune, he felt for the secret door. It opened for him, and he was welcomed inside with sighs and whispers.
THE NINTH OFFERING
When Detective Malloy came to call the following afternoon, he didn’t look happy. He gestured to the crowds of visitors. “Business is good, I see.”
“We’ve gone from forgotten to fad in a few weeks,” Will said. Two giggling college girls asked for Will’s autograph and he politely declined, much to their disappointment.
Detective Malloy watched the exchange. “That’s the trouble.”
“What do you mean?” Evie asked. She’d never seen the detective quite so businesslike. He was uncomfortable—that much was evident. But she had no idea why. After all, shouldn’t he be pleased that his old friend’s museum was finally in the black?
The detective lowered his voice. “Will, there’s talk that you might be involved in the killings.”
Will’s eyes widened. “What?”
“That’s bunk!” Evie protested.
“I know. But it doesn’t look good—the fella who knows everything about the occult, who gave us the tip on Jacob Call, whose museum is now the hottest ticket in town, getting written up in all the papers—”
“I had nothing to do with those newspaper articles, I can assure you,” Will snapped, and Evie hoped no one could see her blush.
“I’m just saying, you might want to stay out of it. Leave it to the police.”
“But we’re so close,” Evie said. “We’re going to find him.” She wished they could tell Detective Malloy what they were really up against, but of course that was impossible. How could they confess that they were looking for a ghost? He’d lock them up forever.
“Will, I’m telling you, as a friend, you’re off the case. Go back to teaching. I’ll handle it from here.”
Uncle Will squared his shoulders. “What if I say no?”
“Then you’re on your own. I can’t protect you.” Detective Malloy put his hat back on. “Fitz, don’t do anything dumb. Know when to quit.”
“Are we going to quit?” Evie asked after the detective had gone.
“Not on your life.”
By evening, Evie, Jericho, Sam, and Will were once again crowded around the table in the library.
“The ninth offering, the Destruction of the Golden Idol,” Evie said. She swore under her breath. “He’s out there ready to kill again, and we don’t have any idea where he’s going.”
She buried her head in her hands.
“Don’t let your frustration get the better of you, Evangeline. Think. Golden idols…” Will flicked the wheel on his silver lighter, creating sparks and squelching them with his thumb.
“Gold. Money, greed—Wall Street, a banker or a broker?” Jericho said.
“The Golden Palace in Chinatown?” Sam threw out. Evie could hear the exhaustion in his voice.
“In the Bible, it’s a golden calf. But we can’t be sure the offering is biblical in reference. The Book of the Brethren is a pastiche, remember?” Will said.
“We’ll probably be here all night,” Evie said, sighing.
“I don’t think we have all night,” Jericho said.
“None of you has eaten,” Will said suddenly, and Evie knew he must be hungry himself or he’d never have said anything. “I’m going to Wolf’s Delicatessen on Broadway for some pastrami sandwiches. Keep working. I won’t be gone long.”
“Let me see that,” Evie said as Will left, taking the Bible from Jericho. They hadn’t spoken more than a few words since he’d discovered she was a Diviner. She was still smarting from his comment. Evie read the Bible passage again and again, searching for some clue, but it wasn’t coming.
“Worshipping false idols. Worshipping false idols…” Something was trying to take shape in her mind. “What’s the name—” She broke off mid-thought, flipping wildly through the Bible. She put her finger on a passage. “Ba’al,” she said suddenly. “The worship of Ba’al. Oh, god…”