Chapter 18

Peter creaked his way down the ancient stairs. Spider Sense warned of Looming Low Beam ahead before his eyes saw it. Age and History wafted through his nostrils. Chill dampened his skin. Hairs stood on end. He stopped at Stairs' End. His eyes first turned right toward Assignment's basis. Station Tunnel and Brick Door awaited his attention. Moisture wicked on Stoned Walls. Anxiety and Desperation hung in the air. This is going to make some article.

"It does grab at you. Doesn't it?"

Peter jumped. He turned to find Dubois watching him in turn. "Geez!" Spider Sense, why didn't you warn me? "Sorry. I was thinking about the people here before."

Dubois nodded. "I do too from time to time." His hand passed over the wall. "Captain Dubois certainly had his secrets. This was one of them. I'll show you the next station this week. Right now, I need you to follow me. I've got something for you." He led Peter to his lab area. There, he picked up a small bottle. "Be really careful with this. It's rare." He unscrewed the cover to reveal Blue Powder.

"Isn't that the stuff for the ghost?" Peter looked at Jar's herbal contents. Then, he screwed it back on.

"Exactly. Be selective how you mix this with your webbing. We don't have a great deal of this stuff. It's an herbal mix. You've seen what it can do. I'd like it if you had some ready for tomorrow morning. I wouldn't rule out the Puritan or the others trying something." Dubois held up a few arrows. Blue-Tips adorned them all. "I need to keep your secret safe. I'd really like to avoid our Dark Friend coming out this week. You all deserve a restful week up here. You're working on your article. By the way, clear your calendar for Monday. Jolene Masters has time to meet with Gwen and you at St. Nichols. Sorry if I overstepped my bounds. That's the only day she's available. I remember my journalism too."

"Really?" Peter's interest perked up.

"Really. I had journalism class first semester of Freshman year. I wrote for my high school paper for three and a half years. I did mostly features. I was the Editor in Chief for two years. My advisor, Candy Colavitto and the journalism teacher here at Wabash Regional knew each other. She brought a poem to a journalism class a year later. A young lady named Angela Blackwell was in that class. She loved it. I let her keep it. She sent a thank you note. We wrote each other back and forth. We met officially at the county fair here Senior year. Even though I was dating someone else at the time, we became real friends. She visited her aunt in Amherst the following Spring. We survived a few run ins with the Rider and the real big bad witch. Anyway, we drifted apart for a while. Then, we met again in San Antonio. This time, I fell for her. We're still that way. I wouldn't have it any other way." Dubois rubbed his wedding band. "There was the state award I won in 1990 for Best Article in the State along with Karen Alvarez, said girlfriend at the time. I was there with her father and an old family friend. Lichtenfeld kidnapped my classmates including Karen. She infected Mrs. Colavitto and trashed our journalism class room. The friend and I drove up to Danvers…Salem Village. Right at that tree you hate so much, Lichtenfeld pointed up. The Rider came down out of the sky. It dared me to survive a weekend in its pit. I just barely made it." He sucked in a deep breath. "I know that's a lot for you to sift through and decompress, Peter. Sorry to talk your ear off." He bowed his head.

"No." Peter shook his head. "It's really helpful. Can I ask you questions about journalism and history?"

"Of course you can! Dr. Dubois wrote for the local paper here as well. I'm sure she'll help you. I'm cursed, Peter, not a bastard. Lichtenfeld's killed several close friends and loved ones. Her ancestor merge the Child and me into one split package." Dubois shook his head. "I'd love to see Strange deal with Isobel. She makes Lichtenfeld look like a sideshow carnival magician." He rolled his eyes on that note.

"Doc Strange isn't a pushover you know. I've seen him deal with demons and powerful sorcerers. I know you have your reasons. He'd help you…." Peter started.

Derisive Snort came from him. "I'm not doubting that he has sorcery. What I doubt is his ability to think through situations. He doesn't think them through. I'm like this because of him in part. Has he ever left some details slip through? Is there something that comes back to bite him later? I know there is. My grandfather is lying back in Amherst because of his rashness. He told Cybelle and me that better the world than the happiness of two children. The Rider's master, by the way, cast a spell. If Strange comes near the Child, instant fiery Destroyer. It wants Strange dead. How do you feel about the man who killed your uncle, Peter? THINK ABOUT THAT!" Fists slammed onto the desk. Spasms shook him. Snarls sputtered from his mouth.

Spider Sense picked up on Transformation and Child's emergence. Peter backed up a couple of steps. Caution made him think twice before saying the wrong thing.

"Jus' watch yerself, Boy! Don' want ya hurt!" The Child curled his lip. He stalked back and forth across the lab. "Ya tried to be resp'ctful! Ah know ya ain't dissin' me. Quit bein' all scaredy!" He sucked in several heavy breaths. "The Fraud did diss us. He still disses us. Snakey Boy thought he'd hide from me there." Sarcasm's Laugh chortled. "Ah watched. Ah know. Ah made sure ya made it out okay." He relaxed.

"Uh…thanks." Peter relaxed not knowing what to expect. Just don't…throw that fire stuff." Wince contorted his face.

"'Lax! Ain't gonna do tha'! Jus' stop being fraidy! Pisses me off!" The Child huffed. "T'anks fer lettin' me know. See? Ain't hard ta deal w' me. 'Mon. Ah don' want Little Woman ta' start whinin'." He turned out the light and led Peter back toward the stairs.

How does Professor Dubois deal with this? Peter headed toward the stairs and up them. He sought to digest everything he'd just heard. He wanted to hear Strange's side of those events. Maybe he'd ask Cybelle and Deirdre if he could reach them. Complicated served only as gross understatement.

And this was just the first day….