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se are all good questions, Ling,” Sister Walker said.
“Say, I’ve got a question. How about you finally tell us everything about Project Buffalo.” Sam fixed his gaze on Will and Sister Walker.
Will sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “We’ve told you,” he said wearily. “Project Buffalo was a program of the United States Department of Paranormal aimed at the study, registry, and possible recruitment of Diviners in the event we’d need their help in times of crisis. That’s all there is to tell.” Will lit another cigarette.
Sam’s anger rose. “I can’t help wondering why you’re both still here but my mother isn’t.”
“Your mother died of influenza, Sam,” Sister Walker said gently. “I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.”
Then how come I got a postcard from her eight years after her supposed “death”? Sam thought. “Well, if it’s the truth, it’s the truth.” Sam fought to keep the edge out of his voice. He watched Will and Sister Walker carefully, but their expressions gave nothing away.
“There’s nothing else to tell about our days in the department,” Will said.
“You sure about that?” Sam challenged. “’Cause if we found out you were lying to us for some reason…”
“I’m sure,” Will answered with an air of finality. “The important thing is to get to work as soon as possible.”
“I have a question,” Mabel said. “Where do Jericho, Theta, and I fit into all of this? We’re not Diviners.”
“Everyone can be helpful in some fashion,” Will said. “You three will be our research team. And we might need controls for our experiments from time to time.”
Theta’s cigarette stopped halfway to her lips. “Controls?”
“Yes. When testing certain powers, for instance. We need people who aren’t Diviners,” Sister Walker explained. “To gauge the effects.”
“Gee, I don’t know about that,” Theta said.
“You can look through the books and files for stories or histories that might prove helpful,” Will said.
“Like Liberty Anne’s unholy correspondence?” Jericho suggested.
Ling turned to Henry. “What is that? That doesn’t sound good.”
“In a letter Cornelius wrote to Will just before he died, he claimed that Liberty Anne’s last vision had been too grim to share,” Jericho said. “Cornelius called it the unholy correspondence. Whatever it was frightened him so much that he never spoke of it until it was too late.”
“Jericho and I tried to find it, but we had no luck,” Mabel said, glancing shyly at him.
“Even Sam looked. And he’s usually good at finding trouble,” Jericho said.
“Haha. The giant made a joke. Hysterical!” Sam’s exaggerated, silent laugh ended in an eye roll. “So, that’s it? This is our plan? Strengthen our powers for some big ghost fight? Look for this unholy correspondence of Liberty Anne’s that might not even exist? Close up this supernatural tear and keep the world from ending. Is that everything?”
“You forgot that these new ghosts might want to kill us,” Ling said quietly.
“And that they have teeth,” Henry said. “I don’t think we can overemphasize that point.”
Isaiah had sidled up to Memphis’s side. Memphis put his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Ice Man. I won’t let anything get you.”
Sister Walker left her chair. She bent down to bring her face to Isaiah’s, cupping his chin with her fingers. “Are you frightened, Isaiah?”
Isaiah didn’t want the others to think he was a baby. But he was frightened. He’d seen what that monster had done to their friend Gabriel. He’d had visions and dreams about it before it happened. As much as he wanted to use his powers again—the ones his religious aunt had forbidden him even to think about—he was scared, too, of what he might see. Isaiah gave one quick nod.
Sister Walker put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be safe, I promise. I know it’s not right for us to ask you to keep this from your aunt. I’m sorry about that. But it’s very important, Isaiah. It’s only for a little while. Can you do that for me? For us?”
Isaiah looked to Memphis.
“That’s your decision, Ice Man. I won’t make it for you. But if you’re coming here with me, we gotta keep it a secret between us. That means not telling nobody. Not Octavia or Uncle Bill.”
“Anybody,” Isaiah said, thrilled to correct his brother. He bit his lower lip, thinking it over. “Okay.”
