though the difference could wind up being no more than a moment.”
“And you dreamed of him?”
“Yes, but his face was masked.” Wolfie curled up into himself even more, chin almost between his knees. “He looked a bit like the lead character in a horror movie whose poster I saw in your history. It was called My Bloody Valentine.”
Rudy nodded. He’d never seen the movie, but he remembered by the advertisement that the villain was a miner, face hidden by a gas mask with goggles and a forehead lantern. Wolfie shivered.
“The Dark Guardian wears some sort of headgear, and the lantern light is no lantern at all, but something odd, something circular with ridges. I saw it in silhouette, however, and could not discern its context and identity. And he wears a massive cloak of darkness that somehow shimmers with stabbing light when he moves.
“The second you see him you have to kill him, you know. There can be no hesitation at all.”
“Ya think?”
They both entertained a soft chuckle. Rudy pulled on his earlobe and massaged it for no reason.
“You said this was a ‘Coming of Dreams,’ plural. Was there another vision?”
Wolfie went cross-legged and pulled the sheets over his legs.
“It wasn’t a vision, but more a saying, a riddle. I was born to destroy the men of the earth, but that victory would not shatter the spell your forefathers cast upon the wood. My mother race is still trapped in the dirt, and I was put here to try and release them as well. Whether I am successful in either endeavor is not guaranteed, but it is in my nature to try.”
“What’s the ‘Riddle of the Wood’? What did you see?”
Wolfie smiled, and this time it was his reassuring hand on the shoulder of the other.
“It’s science, Dad. Not your discipline.”
“Tell me anyway. I’ll try to keep up.”
“‘The Riddle of the Wood,’ as you call it, has to do with a nova.”
“Like the sun blowing up?”
“Yes, and that is why I most need the library visit. I have to make a study of the stars, the moon, astrophysics, astronomy. I dreamed these words in direct reference to freeing the witches from the bondage of the root: ‘The sun must burst forth a hundred golden rivers.’ The phrase was visible, in Gothic print, and there was a number in the background.”
“What was it?”
“The digit was partially hidden, but I am certain it was the number three.”
“That’s it?” Rudy said. “That’s all you have to go on?”
“Yes. That along with the fact that the saying is a paradox, which in itself sort of causes one, but you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“Hmm.”
“To sleep now, Dad. I will not leave this room until Monday morning, and you can spend your Sunday preparing. Registration papers are one thing, but you will need high school bus schedules, activity sheets, the works. I hope you have ink in your printer.”
“No problem.”
“Good.” He slid back under the sheets and pushed up with his knees until the bedding came loose from the bottom. He flipped the affair under his heels.
“Piggy-blanket,” he said. “Nicer this way.”
Rudy slid down and did the same on his side. He turned on his elbow and put his arm protectively across his son’s shoulder. Wolfie slid back and let his father embrace him. Dark Guardians? Novas? Mass murder? It was all too big to imagine.
One day at a time.
Of course.
Banal responsibilities on Sunday; an uneventful trip to the library Monday. Steps. A process.
But the library trip was anything but uneventful. And Patricia’s phone calls were a constant annoyance.
Rudy was never really good at planning these “field trips,” and he supposed that was why he’d always avoided teaching the elementary grades. Those kinds of instructors needed mothering skills. It wasn’t really about word walls, picture cues, and the best ways to asses fluency, but more helping Johnny find his inhaler and stopping little Denny from melting crayons on the radiator. It
“And you dreamed of him?”
“Yes, but his face was masked.” Wolfie curled up into himself even more, chin almost between his knees. “He looked a bit like the lead character in a horror movie whose poster I saw in your history. It was called My Bloody Valentine.”
Rudy nodded. He’d never seen the movie, but he remembered by the advertisement that the villain was a miner, face hidden by a gas mask with goggles and a forehead lantern. Wolfie shivered.
“The Dark Guardian wears some sort of headgear, and the lantern light is no lantern at all, but something odd, something circular with ridges. I saw it in silhouette, however, and could not discern its context and identity. And he wears a massive cloak of darkness that somehow shimmers with stabbing light when he moves.
“The second you see him you have to kill him, you know. There can be no hesitation at all.”
“Ya think?”
They both entertained a soft chuckle. Rudy pulled on his earlobe and massaged it for no reason.
“You said this was a ‘Coming of Dreams,’ plural. Was there another vision?”
Wolfie went cross-legged and pulled the sheets over his legs.
“It wasn’t a vision, but more a saying, a riddle. I was born to destroy the men of the earth, but that victory would not shatter the spell your forefathers cast upon the wood. My mother race is still trapped in the dirt, and I was put here to try and release them as well. Whether I am successful in either endeavor is not guaranteed, but it is in my nature to try.”
“What’s the ‘Riddle of the Wood’? What did you see?”
Wolfie smiled, and this time it was his reassuring hand on the shoulder of the other.
“It’s science, Dad. Not your discipline.”
“Tell me anyway. I’ll try to keep up.”
“‘The Riddle of the Wood,’ as you call it, has to do with a nova.”
“Like the sun blowing up?”
“Yes, and that is why I most need the library visit. I have to make a study of the stars, the moon, astrophysics, astronomy. I dreamed these words in direct reference to freeing the witches from the bondage of the root: ‘The sun must burst forth a hundred golden rivers.’ The phrase was visible, in Gothic print, and there was a number in the background.”
“What was it?”
“The digit was partially hidden, but I am certain it was the number three.”
“That’s it?” Rudy said. “That’s all you have to go on?”
“Yes. That along with the fact that the saying is a paradox, which in itself sort of causes one, but you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“Hmm.”
“To sleep now, Dad. I will not leave this room until Monday morning, and you can spend your Sunday preparing. Registration papers are one thing, but you will need high school bus schedules, activity sheets, the works. I hope you have ink in your printer.”
“No problem.”
“Good.” He slid back under the sheets and pushed up with his knees until the bedding came loose from the bottom. He flipped the affair under his heels.
“Piggy-blanket,” he said. “Nicer this way.”
Rudy slid down and did the same on his side. He turned on his elbow and put his arm protectively across his son’s shoulder. Wolfie slid back and let his father embrace him. Dark Guardians? Novas? Mass murder? It was all too big to imagine.
One day at a time.
Of course.
Banal responsibilities on Sunday; an uneventful trip to the library Monday. Steps. A process.
But the library trip was anything but uneventful. And Patricia’s phone calls were a constant annoyance.
Rudy was never really good at planning these “field trips,” and he supposed that was why he’d always avoided teaching the elementary grades. Those kinds of instructors needed mothering skills. It wasn’t really about word walls, picture cues, and the best ways to asses fluency, but more helping Johnny find his inhaler and stopping little Denny from melting crayons on the radiator. It
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