…the mythical dagger is said to glow brightly to ward off evil spirits or apparitions.
Melchior is an ancient designation; one of the Three Wise Men from the Christian nativity carries the name. It is believed to derive from a Hebrew phrase with one possible meaning being "the light of my king."
-Leonard Rhine, The Monster Lurks
The object was quite mysterious. Harry hadn't given it much thought since he was admitted. But after being discharged and getting changed, he discovered the small, dark pyramid in his jacket pocket. He hadn't studied it before…it wasn't heavy…each face had four triangles on it. He wondered who the old woman was and why she gave it to him. At least one part of his adventure was real.
The pyramid was accompanied by a key. The tag on it said 'Library Reserve'. A vague recollection of obtaining it was trying to swim up through his consciousness. It was instantly repressed. That whole episode had been a fabrication, the product of an injured brain. Shuddering at the thought of what may actually have happened, he replaced the objects in his inside pocket.
The ICU was strangely peaceful – machines beeping softly and rhythmically; medical staff occasionally hovering in the doorway and whispering to each other; the two women barely moving. But it gave Harry no peace to stay, knowing that neither of them would be suffering if it weren't for him.
"Mr. Mason?" murmured a tremulous voice.
Without giving a chance to answer Andy Morgan buried himself in Harry's jacket. He instinctively put his arm around the kid.
Andy and Roberta only had each other; in all the time they'd been living next door, Andy never had a visit from his father. Though he must have a dad, they had never even spoken of him. Not in front of Harry anyway.
The kid's eyes were red raw. He must have cried a lot since he got the news.
"Did you want to sit up on the bed with your mom?" Harry asked gently. Andy nodded. He picked him up and sat him on the left side of the bed, facing away from the other casualty. By the entrance to the room stood an older, white haired gentleman sporting an unkempt beard.
"You must be Mr. Wolf." said Harry as he stood, "We spoke on the phone."
Wolf took his hand and shook it firmly. Despite his initial appearance his face was largely untouched by age, with barely a line to mark his brow.
"Mr. Mason I presume." he replied seriously, "I am grateful that you notified us so swiftly. It is better that Andy knows about his mother."
The boy lay sleeping already, curled up beside his mother. Oblivious to the peril that she was in.
"I had to make a few phone calls before I found him. It must have been a tough few days for him as it is.
I can't help feeling a little responsible for his situation. I mean, Roberta is my neighbor, I feel like I ought to take care of the kid myself."
"Don't trouble yourself Mr. Mason. We will keep Andy with us for as long as his mother is here. We also have the facilities to keep him permanently, should that become necessary." he pronounced matter of factly. Wolf was, apparently, unconcerned by the worst case scenario.
But, Harry supposed, he had no reason to be. Wolf didn't know Roberta at all. Truth be told, he hardly knew her himself. The only person who really cared whether she lived or died was Andy. He hoped, for the kid's sake, that she pulled through.
"I'm sure she'll thank you for taking care of him Mr. Wolf." he hoped.
"Call me Leonard."
Leonard…there was something about the name…and the pernicious leer on his face…
Leonard…
not Wolf…
Leonard…Rhine…had written a book…a book found in the elementary school. A book which may prove that Harry wasn't out of his mind. Though it was possible that the book had also been a phantom…
"This may sound a little strange but…have you ever written a book?" he probed.
"I have written several, under my pseudonym." smiled Wolf, "Not for some time though. Any pictures of me as a writer would be several years old now. You have a keen eye Mr. Mason.
Which book was it?"
Harry struggled to remember the title.
"Was it even a book that you recognized me from? Or was it a newspaper article? I was a regular in the Journal of Parapsychology at one time."
A vision, smeared on the bathroom wall. If it was real…
"The Monster Lurks." he ventured, "About psychic girls and unexplained phenomena."
"I detect a hint of skepticism in your voice. I must tell you that title marked a turning point in my life."
It did exist, like the key and the pyramid. It didn't prove anything, but it was reassuring. Kaufmann warned of confusion, amongst many other symptoms, as a result of his brain injury. His mind was simply confusing events that actually took place. Though it appeared far fetched at the moment, Brookhaven and Cedar Grove Sanatorium would have to wait.
"I was once more Houdini than Conan Doyle myself." continued Wolf, "I came to Silent Hill as I had heard of a girl with extraordinary talent. I planned to expose her, as I had so many other charlatans. But when I met this girl, just five years old, it changed my view of the occult forever. I settled here to study this child, barely older than my daughter, with the potential to change the world."
"You have a little girl?"
"Claudia, she's not so little now. Twelve years old. Sadly my case study died in a fire not long after The Monster Lurks was published. That was seven years ago. It seems like a different lifetime.
I have no doubt she would have been able to help you find your daughter."
"My Daughter? You know about Cheryl?" asked Harry.
"The whole town knows Mr. Mason. We shall remain vigilant until she is discovered."
"Thank you."
The idea of Wolf finding his daughter made him a little nervous. For a man who worked with children every day, he was a little too stern and intense. Harry wondered if the children found him frightening.
"In fact if you have a photograph then - "
"That child should not be on that bed." interrupted nurse Mahoney, appearing out of nowhere.
"He's not doing any harm Rachel." Harry countered.
"It's an infection control issue. He could have brought in any number of bugs."
"Andy is a very clean child, nurse. He was concerned about this very topic. We discussed it thoroughly and came up with a plan. He is washed and in clean clothes; his hands are clean; he removed his shoes before lying on the bed. He is as Mr. Mason says, not doing any harm."
"Just wait until Kaufmann gets here."
As the argument continued Roberta began to convulse, waking her son. The steady beep of her heart rate monitor changed to a steady tone.