ended there. It was constructed of white marble and had three steps leading up to a set of bronze double doors covered in intricate carvings of hooded figures and mythical beasts. Two marble columns flanked the doors beneath a peaked roof containing a large carved symbol Brendan didn’t recognise.
He stood in front of the steps and took a few deep breaths, cleared his throat, and thought back to the horrifying experience of watching Denver and Aldrich summon the spirits of past Lorekeepers inside the Bohemian Club with a simple spell.
“Diablo tan-tun-ka,” Brendan said, softly at first. “Diablo tan-tun-ka.” His voice grew louder as he chanted the spell several more times. “Diablo TAN-tun-ka! Diablo tan-tun-KA!”
Nothing seemed to be happening. Brendan continued anyway, recalling words the two Lorekeepers had spoken, but not quite remembering the inflections.
“Diablo TAN-tun-ka, spirit of my … uh, great-great-great-grandfather, um, I think,” Brendan said. “I summon you! I wish to speak to the one departed called Denver Kristoff!”
Brendan raised his arms towards the sky, as if he were literally trying to lift up the dead spirit of the Storm King from his resting place. He stopped and waited, his arms still raised into the air like he was signalling a touchdown.
Only silence greeted him. He lowered his arms and realised how ridiculous it was to think he could possibly raise the spirit of a dead Lorekeeper … or anyone for that matter.
A chill went up his spine as a breeze whipped across his neck and face.
Then a twig snapped behind him.
Brendan spun around, raised his phone’s flashlight; his heart lodged firmly in his throat. And then he screamed loudly enough to wake the dead.
Back on Torpedo Wharf, Eleanor realised that Cordelia was right. They needed to do something fast or else the growing pack of seagulls would eat all of Fat Jagger’s bait.
Eleanor looked around desperately. Her eyes rested on a nearby metal trash can full of newspapers and plastic bottles and Styrofoam coffee cups. A snoring homeless man in tattered clothing lay next to it. It was obvious he had just passed out because the still smouldering butt of a cigarette dangled loosely from his fingers.
Eleanor glanced at Cordelia, who was still waving her jacket at the flock of seagulls. It was chaotic, and getting louder as more birds cawed along with Cordelia’s screams.
Eleanor knew there was no time to waste. She didn’t always need her older sister’s approval or supervision; Cordelia wasn’t the only smart one in the family!
So Eleanor pushed away the fear and marched right up to the man. She knelt down beside him and gently and carefully plucked the cigarette from his fingers. She stood up, a triumphant smile spread across her face.
A hand grabbed her leg.
“Gimme back my smoke!” the man growled.
She quickly shook the man’s hand from her leg and ran around towards the other side of the trash can.
“Get back here, you little brat!” he screamed, trying to get to his feet. But he wobbled unsteadily, having unusual difficulty standing up.
“Nell, what are you doing?” Cordelia yelled, swatting at several seagulls that were dive-bombing her, apparently tired of being hit by her jacket. “Stop torturing that poor man and help me!”
Eleanor didn’t answer, carefully cradling the burning cigarette in her cupped hands so it wouldn’t burn out. She knew that smoke and heat travelled upward. That’s what the firefighter who came and spoke to her class about fire safety had said. She crouched down near the bottom of the mesh trash can.
“Get back here, kid!” shouted the man, who was finally on his feet and stumbling towards Eleanor.
“Nell, let go of that disgusting thing! What are you doing?” Cordelia asked as she swatted at another seagull.
“You’ll see,” Eleanor said as she touched the red ash of the cigarette to the bottom of the garbage.
She had no idea what the wadded-up newspapers at the bottom had been soaked in, but the whole thing ignited much quicker than she’d expected. After just a few seconds, the entire trash can was engulfed in flames that leaped several feet into the air, sending sparks floating into the night sky.
The vagrant grabbed Eleanor by the back of the collar and lifted her up.
“Gimme my smoke!” he shouted.
Eleanor held out the still-lit cigarette. He grabbed it and set her back down.
“Thanks, mister,” she said.
“You really should respect other people’s property, kid,” he said and then slumped back down to the ground.
“Nell, will you please tell me what’s going on?” Cordelia shouted.
Eleanor ran towards the hungry seagulls, waved them off, and scooped up an entire armload of raw meat. She held her breath and reminded herself that she was doing this for Fat Jagger. She’d take an earthworm bath if that’s what it took to save him.
She ran over and tossed the meat inside the blazing trash can. The fire crackled and popped as the fat seared instantly in the heat. The aroma of cooking steaks and poultry was almost immediate and far more intense than the mound of raw meat.
Eleanor ran back for another armload.
Cordelia marvelled at how clever Eleanor was as she grabbed an armload of meat herself. Fat Jagger would be much more likely to smell cooking meat the next time he resurfaced for air. Together, they ran back and forth, dumping loads of meat into the burning trash.
The smell of searing meats was so powerful that both Cordelia and Eleanor covered their faces with their shirts. They stood next to the makeshift barbecue and looked out into the dark bay. Cordelia draped an arm around her little sister’s shoulders.
“Do you think he’ll come up for air soon?” Eleanor asked.
“I hope so,” Cordelia said. “But either way, I’m proud of you. That was really risky what you did, but it was a smart idea, Nell.”
Eleanor responded by resting her head against Cordelia’s side. They waited until the fire was nothing more than a smouldering pile of embers and roasted meat. The smell still wafted in the air even without active flames.
Ten minutes later, just as Eleanor began losing hope, a deep, rumbling whoooosh that almost sounded like wet thunder erupted from the darkness of San Francisco Bay.
Eleanor’s hopeful smile slowly disappeared when she saw the massive tidal wave emerge from the blackness, coming right at them.
“Nell, duck!” Cordelia screamed, hugging her sister close.
But it was too late; the massive wave was upon them, drowning out their screams.
The force of the water knocked both of the Walker sisters to the ground and pushed them thirty feet back, right off the walking path and on to the lawn of a nearby café and gift shop. It also scattered the cooked meat across the wharf.
Eleanor pushed herself to her feet and looked around frantically for Cordelia.
“Nell! Are you OK?” Cordelia asked, staggering to her feet