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  “No. Not without talking to you. But I’m sure it will work.”

  “So you want to write a fictional character into Paradise.”

  “Yes. We have three days before we can challenge Billy here. But his mind is in Paradise. If we can defeat him in Paradise, I think he’ll fail here.”

  “Excellent!” David thundered.“Excellent thinking!”He grabbed Samuel by both shoulders. “I knew I could count on you.” He beamed at the overseers. “You see?” Back to Samuel.“Have you given any thought to this character?”

  “I would like to write a cop,” Samuel said. “The law. And not just an ordinary lawman, but a gunslinger who has the skill and power to bring some order to Paradise.”

  “The law. I like it. I like it.”

  “Why only one?” one of the teachers asked. “Why not five, or ten?”

  “I think prudence would dictate caution,”David said. “Assuming this all works, we don’t know what will happen to such a character.”

  “If you write them into existence, then surely you can write them out.”

  “So it would seem. But we don’t know, do we? We can’t very well populate the world with fictitious characters.”

  “The character that I write will have the strength of five,” Samuel said. “I’ve decided to call him Thomas.”

  “Thomas?” Raul asked, eyebrow arched. “As in Doubting Thomas?”

  “No, Thomas, after Thomas Hunter.” Samuel looked at the history book. “In honor of the first entry.”

  David picked up the book and flipped it open. “I told you there was a single entry when I first received this book. It’s a very short entry about Thomas Hunter and Monique de Raison—I’m sure you all know their names from the Raison Strain. It appears that this book is tied directly to him.”

  He faced Samuel. “So, when will your Thomas bring the law to the streets of Paradise?”

  “As soon as I can bring Johnny up to speed.”

  “Johnny?”

  Samuel hurried for the door. “He’s a boy from Paradise who’s going to help me.”

  “He agreed to this?”

  Samuel turned back. “Not yet. But he will soon enough.”

  He left the teachers staring after him and hurried for the stairs. It was time to meet Johnny.

  THE RED marble hadn’t shown itself again. Had it come from behind that door?

  Johnny waited ten minutes on the far side of the boulder before concluding that the marble was gone for good. At least for now.

  He sneaked around the corner and peered at the box end of the smaller canyon. Nothing had changed. The marble had led him here, that much he knew for certain. He couldn’t just run home now. Home was where things were going very, very wrong.

  He stared at the door’s faint outline for a full minute, working up his courage, assuring himself that, even if it was a door, it probably just led to an old mine shaft or something.

  He walked up to the latch. Put his hand on it. Rusted metal. He pushed down. It moved with a creaking sound. The door gaped, four inches at first, then Johnny pushed it all the way open.

  At first he wasn’t sure what he was seeing beyond the door. Shadows. Another cliff wall. No, a man-made wall. Huge stone blocks were stacked in a brick pattern, rising five stories. A large cross topped two massive wooden doors, dead center. Rows of windows broke the building’s flat lines. The space between the old rusted door that Johnny had opened and the large wooden doors was a stone courtyard, covered with sand in a scattered pattern.

  An old mining operation? Looked more like something built by Indians. Something ancient. Amazing how well hidden it was. He’d never heard a word of this place.

  The large door moved. Then stopped. But he was sure he’d seen it move. Johnny would have turned and run, but his legs refused to budge.

  The door opened. A boy about his height, with blond hair and clear blue eyes, stepped out. He wore a white short-sleeved button-down shirt and blue shorts. White socks, brown shoes. The boy’s hands hung loosely at his sides.

  The boy walked halfway across the courtyard and stopped. “Hello, Johnny.”

  The boy knew his name? Johnny still couldn’t move.

  “Did you like the marble?”

  “I . . . How did you know my name?”

  The boy smiled. “That’s a long story.” He walked forward and held out his hand.“My name is Samuel.”

  Johnny took the hand. Real flesh, real eyes, real hair. Real boy.

  Samuel walked by. “Follow me.”

  Johnny finally got his legs working. He followed the boy out into the canyon, where Samuel stopped and stared north, in the direction of Paradise.

  “What’s it like?” Samuel asked.

  Johnny stepped to his side and faced the gaping canyon.“What’s what like?”

  “Life out there. You know, in the real world. Looking at it out here, it seems like a whole different reality.”

  “You don’t come from the real world?”

  Samuel looked at him with those bright blue eyes. “Real? Sure. But as you can see, it’s pretty isolated up here. Did the marble scare you?”

  “At first. You did that. How did you do that?”

  “That’s part of the story. But it’s a wild story. I’m not sure you’re ready for it.”

  “After what I’ve seen? I can’t think of anything that would surprise me. Do you know what’s been happening in Paradise?”

  “I know some things, but I need to know more, which is why I brought you up here.”

  Johnny looked back at the hidden door. Still there. And when he turned his head, the boy was still there.

  “How did you make the marble move?”

  “I wrote it in a book. Not your typical writing book, but a book that makes whatever you write in it happen. Most things, anyway—I can’t make people do things they don’t want to do.”

  Johnny didn’t know what to say. This was as unbelievable as Black pulling his lip off his chin. He wasn’t dreaming, was he?

  Samuel grinned. “I told you it was wild. You’re not ready for it.”

  “I am ready,” Johnny said, not sure why he would claim any such thing.

  “It’s just . . . I’ve never heard of anything like it.”

  “You haven’t? You don’t go to church then. You ever hear of the Bible?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s full of stories that are as crazy as this one. And do you know why they sound crazy? Because they break all the rules that nature sets. They’re supernatural. Crazy, unless you understand the rules of the supernatural, then they’re not crazy at all. Then they’re everyday life, and that’s what we have here.”

  “Everyday life?”

  “Everyday life.”

  Johnny recalled the afternoon when Black walked into town. “So men walking around without flesh on their faces, and apples turning into snakes, and marbles floating through the air are just everyday life?”

  “They can be. They will be. They are, aren’t they? You tell me. You saw it all with your own eyes. I have to rely on my mind.”

  “So it’s all real. Everything happening down there is real?” Johnny asked.

  “As real as anything you’ve ever touched or smelled or tasted or seen or heard.”

  “Then who is Marsuvees Black? He’s the cause of all this, isn’t he?”

  “Only a small part of the cause,” Samuel said. “There’s Billy, and mostly there’s the people of Paradise. But to answer your question, Black used to be a monk from Nevada. Before that a performer in Las Vegas. He was on the staff here at the monastery before he disappeared last week. He found the books in the dungeon, discovered their power, and decided to wreak a little havoc. My theory.”

  “So if he’s, whatever, dealt with—”

  “Then you still have Billy and the people of Paradise. Black’s only one man with a few tricks up his sleeve. Maybe that’s an understatement, but Marsuvees depends on Billy, because Billy has the books. See, grown-ups can
’t write in them. But Billy—he can do a lot of damage so long as the people follow his suggestions. We have to get to the people, Johnny.”

  Johnny pressed his hands against his temples and closed his eyes. “Okay, maybe you’re right. Maybe this is too much for me. None of it makes any sense. You’re talking about Billy and dungeons and books with supernatural power . . . It’s crazy!”

  Samuel smiled. “So we’re back to that word again.”He clasped his hands behind his back and paced slowly. Johnny had never heard a kid talk the way Samuel talked, walking about like a miniature monk. Not that he minded—it gave him more confidence in the boy.

  “I need your help, Johnny. That’s why you’re here. And in order for you to help me, you’re going to have to understand what’s really happening in Paradise. And why.”

  Samuel faced him.“But nothing I tell you will make any sense unless you believe in the supernatural. You have to believe that God not only exists but that life is ultimately about an epic battle over the hearts of mankind. Good versus evil, not only as theological constructs or ideas, but as real forces at work wherever they are permitted to work. Do you follow?”

  What choice did he have? His whole world had been turned topsy-turvy in four days, and short of a better explanation, the supernatural worked just fine.

  “I guess.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “I mean yes. How can I not believe after what I’ve seen?”

  “Trust me, seeing has very little to do with believing. Belief is a matter of the heart, not the eyes. Although I will admit, these books make the struggle between good and evil pretty visible in Paradise.”

  For the first time Johnny began to feel a sense of hope. He wasn’t a lost soul in the hell that was swallowing Paradise. He was the person that Samuel had brought up to the mountains with a red marble.

  His mind grappled briefly with that image.

  But he had to believe. He would believe.

  “I believe,” he said. “If this isn’t a dream—”

  “No ifs.”

  “Okay then. I believe.”

  “Good. I think you’re ready to hear the whole story,” Samuel said.

  AN HOUR later, Johnny sat on a boulder next to Samuel, stunned. It made sense, of course. Seeing it through Samuel’s eyes, it made perfect sense.

  All except for where the books had come from in the first place, but Samuel had no answer for that.

  Samuel seemed content to let the silence stretch.

  “So you want me to tell them all this at the meeting tonight,” Johnny finally said. “Tell them that they’ve been deceived by Black and that a cop is coming to town tomorrow morning to set things straight.”

  “Exactly. Don’t tell them how you know and don’t say a word about Billy, but throw the book at Black.”

  Johnny frowned, nervous already. “And you want me to help this cop. Show him around and report back to you.”

  “That’s it.” Samuel grinned. “I need eyes on the ground, not only for Thomas, but for me. Billy’s got Marsuvees Black; I have you.”

  “Sounds like a mismatch,” Johnny said.

  “Billy’s no match for me.”

  “But I’m not sure how well I stack up against Black.”

  “Trust me, Johnny. This will work.”

  “What if this fictional character you write doesn’t work? I mean, it’s never been done before, so how can you be so sure?”

  “Well, we’ll just have to see, won’t we? I’m open to suggestions.”

  Johnny couldn’t think of any.

  “So, it’s a deal then?” Samuel stretched out his hand.

  Johnny took it. “Okay. It’s a deal.”

  “I’ll be with you all the way.”

  “Could Black hurt me?”

  Samuel hesitated. “If we don’t stop them, yes. And that’s what we’re trying to do here. That’s why I need you.”

  “Why me? I mean, why are the rest being led along by Billy so easily while I’m not? I mean, I know I started to believe the lies a few times, but I resisted, right? Why don’t the rest?”

  “My father says that all of you should have fallen to Black’s lies. Eve ate the apple, right? He says that no matter who was in that garden at that time, they would have done the same. All the suffering and evil the world has ever seen wasn’t because God made a mistake by putting Eve in there instead of someone else. Everyone would have done the same in her place. Follow?”

  “Makes sense. Never thought about it that way. Then why not me?”

  “Simple. You and Cecil saw Black for what he was before he started playing tricks. Why Billy let you see him, I don’t know, but seeing Black as a bag of bones was enough to put the fear of God in you. Then I came along and began to counter Billy’s nonsense. You felt it, but not as convincingly as the rest. And there’s still Stanley Yordon. When he gets back, he could turn out to be a friend in all of this.”

  Johnny looked back into the smaller canyon. It was all amazing. Hardly believable. But he did believe. He really did.

  “You want to take a look?” Samuel asked.

  “At the monastery?”

  “Yes!” Samuel jumped up, excited. “Just inside. I can’t take you around, but it won’t hurt to look.”

  “Sure.”

  Samuel grabbed his hand and pulled him to the gaping door. “The whole monastery is hidden by the cliffs except for a few places, where my father’s camouflaged it. The glass on top, the front, some windows and doors. I’ve never seen, but they say it’s hidden from the air.”

  Johnny looked up at the towering face, then at the large door beneath a huge old cross. “How long has it been here?”

  “As long as the books at least—that’s almost twenty years.”

  “Incredible.”

  Samuel led him to the double doors, poked his head in, then pushed one open. The foyer was dark, but there was enough light to reveal old paintings on stone walls on either side. A thick wooden table sat at the center of the area, shiny with layers of dried resin. Tall stained-glass windows peered in from above. No sign of lights. The stone floor was slick and shiny with wear.

  It certainly looked ancient.

  “It’s huge,” Johnny said.

  “This? This is nothing. Go to the right and you find the library. Go up one floor and you’ll find the cafeteria. The main hall straight ahead leads to the upper levels. The residences and the classrooms.”

  “And what about the basement?”

  Samuel gestured. “Off the main hall to the left. A long series of stairs take you down. Not a place anyone in his right mind would want to go.”

  “Incredible.”

  Samuel put an arm around Johnny’s shoulder and pulled him around. He walked with him back out. “We’re a team, Johnny. You and me. We’ll fix this mess for sure.”

  In some strange ways, Samuel seemed much younger than thirteen. In other ways, like in the way he reasoned, he seemed more like an adult. A strange mixture of innocence and education. Probably because he was isolated in the monastery his whole life.

  Johnny faced the boy. “I need something from you.”

  “Say it.”

  “It’s my mom. She’s . . .” He hesitated. “Black’s after her.”

  “You have to remember, we can’t make people do things.”

  “But can you help?”

  He looked at the monastery and spoke as much to himself as to Johnny. “I’ll talk to Christine and Tyler. They can help.” He slapped Johnny on the back. “Good idea. But you have to promise to talk to the whole town.”

  “I will.”

  Samuel grinned. “Prophet Johnny.”

  “Trust me, I don’t feel like a prophet.”

  “I’ll help you. Listen for me.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY - FIVE

  PARADISE

  Saturday night

  TOTAL DARKNESS slid over Paradise early that night, before seven, which was abnormal th
is time of year. Clouds clamped down on the town like a blackened steel lid. Johnny looked for his mother when he stumbled into town at last light, but he couldn’t find her.

  He couldn’t find anyone. No surprise.

  He ran straight for the church with one thought on his mind: Black. He had to reach the church before Black did, so he could figure things out in his head before he did what he was about to do.

  Which was what?

  Johnny eased to a walk. Which was confronting Black head-on. Which was telling the whole town that they’d been deceived. Which was that the law was coming in force first thing in the morning.

  Which was, having successfully completed his duties as prophet, to get to a safe place until morning.

  He had rehearsed a hundred stinging one-liners while descending the mountain. He couldn’t remember any at the moment, but they would come to him.

  Johnny mounted the stairs, thankful that he’d beat the town to the service, assuming there was a service. If Billy found out what he and Samuel were up to, he might change things up on them.

  He slid into the church and crept across the foyer to the auditorium doors. No sound. He nudged the doors open a crack, peered into the sanctuary, and caught his breath.

  A sea of still heads faced an empty pulpit. Several dozen candles lined the stage. The sanctuary flickered in the shifting flames, absolutely silent.

  Johnny felt his heart skip a beat and then knock into double time, just like that: boom, and then nothing, and then boom-ba boom-ba boom!

  All four-hundred-some residents sat in the pews, motionless, staring as though seated for a séance. He wanted to run from the church, but the scene glued his feet to the carpet. Nobody seemed to notice him. He craned for a better view.

  Children sat obediently by their parents, legs hanging from the pews. No twitching here, much less running and screaming through the rows. For a brief moment Johnny wondered if they were all dead, stuck here in rows like trophies, forced to sit while Black force-fed them his twisted version of grace and hope.

  He imagined Black standing tall behind the podium, a monk from Vegas doped up on worm sludge. His eyes were gone and his lips opened wide. His white face mouthed the word hope, only it came out long and raspy.

  Hhouuuppe.

  His lower jaw fell from his face and gaped open to a black throat. His tongue wagged like a worm freshly yanked from the garden.