Before the Devil Fell

by Neil Olson

  “Is that what you thought?” he asked. “Is that why you’ve been keeping away?”

  “I wondered. We all put a demon on you. Why wouldn’t you want payback?”

  “I don’t want revenge,” Will said. “I just want it gone.”

  “Good.” His answers pleased her. Her old enthusiasm was coming back, in spite of this hellish night. She was resilient. Or was it something else? “I haven’t been able to get my hands on the book. It’s in the house, but in a place I can’t get at with him there.”

  “Under the floorboards.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I’ll try again, but I need you to do something for me.”

  “Of course. Anything.”

  “Not anything,” she said. “Nothing.”

  “You want me to do nothing?”

  “That’s right, and I know it won’t be easy. But I’m asking. I’ll beg, if that will help. I especially don’t want you going anywhere near my grandfather’s house. Do you understand?”

  “This sounds like something more than just the book,” he said warily.

  “There are things I need to look into,” she conceded. “By myself. I’m not going to tell you what, and I’m not taking you along. No offense, but your presence is more burden than help to me right now.”

  Her tone was gentle, but absolute. If he had more energy, Will might try to fight, but he felt done in. And he had made such a mess of things...

  “Sam.” He stroked her arm. “Don’t do anything risky.”

  “No one is going to mess with me. I just need to do some poking around, and I need to get that book.”

  “So what do I do in the meantime?”

  “Nothing,” she enunciated clearly. “Keep your head down. Stay out of trouble for a few days. Can you do that?”

  “A few days.” The words reminded him that it was only that long until the anniversary of that terrible night. Anniversaries held power, didn’t they?

  “I know,” she said, reading him. “But you haven’t answered my question. Can you leave this to me for a couple of days? Can you trust me?”

  How else could he possibly reply to that?

  “Yes,” said Will. “Yes, I’ll leave it to you.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-ONE

  He couldn’t sleep until dawn. Then he couldn’t wake, so it was late morning before the three of them reached the police station. And middle of the afternoon before they left. Jimmy gave Sam a ride home, and Will tried not to mind. He took the keys from his mother as they walked to her car.

  “Any objection to a drive?” he asked, starting the engine.

  “No,” said Abby, “that’s fine.” She agreed like someone submitting to punishment. He decided on Crane Beach, though he was unsure why. Because they had been there as a family?

  “How did that go?” she asked, after they pulled away from the station.

  “All right, I guess. There was a homicide detective from Boston. I don’t know if that’s standard. They mostly wanted to know why Eddie felt threatened by me.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “That he thought I had something to do with deaths in the community.” He waited for a reaction, but wasn’t surprised not to get one. “There was no sense in not mentioning it. Jimmy practically accused me of the same thing, so Mike must know.”

  “Eddie was crazy,” she said harshly.

  You’re all crazy, he thought. And me along with you.

  “Jimmy doesn’t believe you killed anyone,” Abby went on. “Why would he?”

  “Because a lot of your old pals have died. None of them older than midfifties, most of them much younger.”

  “Did you put the gun in Eddie’s hand?” she demanded. “Did you pull the trigger? Did you skip out on a Little League game to push Doug Payson out the window?”

  “Ma, come on.”

  “Can you cause heart attacks? Can you call lightning?”

  “You don’t have to convince me,” he snapped.

  “He’s jealous of you and Sam.”

  “That’s part of it,” Will agreed. “Probably that’s most of it. And no, by the way, I can’t call lightning.”

  “I know,” she said, turning her face to the window. “Not many people can these days.”

  “Wait. Don’t tell me Jane Hall could.”

  “She said she couldn’t,” Abby replied. “More like she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t perform any act without a good reason. But her grandfather did.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Jane used to watch. Of course, there have to be clouds—you can’t call it from the blue. So there’s no way to know if it’s coincidence. But she didn’t doubt it. He’d speak the words, from deep down in his chest. And pull with his arm.” She illustrated the motion she had never seen. A strong tugging action. “And it would come arcing down.”

  He was such a sucker. Even with everything he knew, the image seized his imagination. Some grizzled old Yankee scholar or gentleman farmer. Rolling up his sleeves after dinner and walking up the hill to pull fire from the sky, for the delight of his granddaughter. It was the kind of magic he sought in all the adventure stories and fairy tales he read as a kid. The kind he had ended up teaching. An escape from his ugly, ordinary life. But it turned out that there was no escaping the ugly part, even if the magic was real.

  “Well, that fits the pattern,” Will said. “Right? The women heal. Teach. While the men make trouble.”

  “No,” Abby said, reaching over to pat his knee. “Don’t you believe that. The men can be good and wise. And the women can be plenty dangerous.”

  Houses became more widely spaced. Rolling green pasture dominated the landscape. Old stone walls. An orchard, a barn. Gold and rust leaves on the distant trees.

  “Muriel said I should ask you about my dad. ‘Your father’ is what she actually said. I don’t think she meant Joe.”

  “No,” Abigail agreed, “doesn’t sound like it.”

  She let the admission sit there as they traveled in silence. Past Goodale Orchards, with the long row of red maples leading to the converted barn. Rows of cars parked on the grass, families shuffling off to get apples, cider, fresh doughnuts. Did understanding come then? Or was it in the hours since Muriel’s words last night? She should have told you a long time ago. Or before that, when Tom Hall mistook him for Doug Payson? Was it possible that he had known for a very long time and had simply been avoiding it?

  “I should have found someone sweet,” Abby said sorrowfully. Down the back alleys of her own thoughts. “Someone gentle. I always went for big personalities. Fiery emotions. Like Joe, with his laugh, and his temper.”

  “And Johnny Payson. With his...what?”

  “Charisma? Magnetism? Johnny was a big bright halo of hair. Like looking into the sun. Not a dollar to his name. On the run, and yet so calm, so confident. Like he had a secret no one else knew.”

  “So you couldn’t resist. What happened?”

  “Joe and I had an apartment right off the base in San Diego. They let Joe have it because we were married. He was just waiting to be sent over. Johnny came to stay for a few days. He was going place to place, crashing with friends. Joe didn’t like him being there. Draft dodger. He never liked Johnny, though he put up with him for my sake. He was at the base that day, like every day. Johnny and me were sharing a joint, talking about home, people we knew. How terrible the war was. One thing led to another.”

  “I don’t need the details.”

  “I was nineteen,” Abby said defensively. “You have to remember that. I met your father when I was seventeen, married him a year later. Never slept with anyone else. Joe was different than I thought he would be.”

  “Violent?”

  “Sadder. More scared. It came out as violence. And now he was leaving me, maybe to go get killed.”

&nb
sp; The road passed through an inlet of beige sea grass. Water was all around, and the flat blue line of ocean was just visible. They traversed a low hill, like an island in the grass. Gnarled apple trees climbed the slope on the left, and the hulking shadow of Hog Island was on the right. The Crane Estate was on a little turnoff ahead, the black gates shut today. Then the road swerved right toward the sea.

  “Was it just that one time?” Will asked, hating himself for asking.

  “That’s all it took. After all the times Joe and I... Anyway, yes. I didn’t tell Joe anything. I meant to, but I just couldn’t. I had to call him in Hawaii a few weeks later to tell him I was pregnant.”

  “Did you know it was Johnny’s?”

  “I kept hoping it was Joe’s, but I guess I must have known.”

  “When did Dad know?” Dad? Joe? Will didn’t even know what word to use anymore.

  “I don’t know,” Abby said sheepishly.

  “You don’t...wait, he does know, right?”

  “Yes. I mean, we never discussed it, but it was clear to me that he knew.”

  “How could you have never discussed it?”

  “Your father... You know, his violence was always directed at objects. He got in a bar fight, in the army, but he didn’t hit me, or you.” She glanced over quickly. “He didn’t ever hit you, did he?”

  Will could have said that the destruction of countertops and televisions had been easily as terrifying as being struck, but all he said was “No.”

  “The one time I tried to bring it up with him, about me and Johnny, he knocked me flat.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Gave me a black eye,” Abby confirmed, “but that was nothing compared to the look on his face. I was absolutely sure that if I said one more word he would kill me.”

  Will parked very carefully in the empty lot, near the dunes, and shut off the engine. Sadness hummed in his chest.

  “That’s, um, rough. I never knew that, he shouldn’t have—”

  “Oh, for God sake, Willie, you don’t have to apologize for him.”

  “When do you think he actually figured it out?” he made himself ask.

  “Honestly?” She was quiet for a long time, as if she would not answer. Then she did. “As soon as he saw you the first time.”

  Don’t start conversations you can’t finish, Will told himself. He had never been close to his father, had despised the man for long stretches of time, yet he now felt unaccountably grieved by this knowledge, this decades-late sundering. “Is that why he left us?”

  “No,” said Abby quickly. “I mean, who knows about things like that? We got married too young, that’s all. We didn’t really know each other. I was afraid to talk to him. He met Patty working one of his jobs. They spent a lot of time together. And, you know...”

  “Okay,” Will said, nearly choking on the word. “When were you going to tell me?”

  “I meant to,” she whispered. “Many times. You really didn’t know?”

  “How would I have known?”

  “I thought someone... Somehow, I thought you knew.”

  And somehow he had, although he could not say how. They sat in silence for a while and he could feel her gently shaking beside him.

  “So that guy who got zapped by lightning at the top of the stairs was my father.”

  “Biologically. Otherwise, Joe is your father. Your only real father.”

  “What was Johnny doing upstairs?” Will asked, ignoring the family sentiment. His mind circled the problem. Maybe it was an excuse not to think of the other stuff, but he didn’t care. He wanted an answer. “Muriel thought I was in danger that night.”

  “Muriel,” Abby sighed in exasperation.

  “Yeah, Muriel. What was she doing outside in a car?”

  “How should I know? Waiting for Johnny, I guess.”

  “She talked about getting me out of the house. She said ‘we.’ So someone inside was with her. She thought they were going to involve me in the ceremony.”

  “No,” Abigail said, looking at him in dismay. Her eyes were red. “Of course not—nobody in that house was going to touch you.”

  “You don’t know,” he said sharply. “Because you were totally out of it.”

  “Oh, you are never going to let me forget that, are you?” she said savagely. “Are you?” Then she shouldered the door open and hopped out. Marching off toward the beach. He was about to follow when the ideas swirling in his troubled mind began to coalesce. He sat still, letting it happen, letting the picture form. By the time he had it, Abby had disappeared over the top of the dunes. Only then did Will get out of the car and follow.

  The wind was off the ocean, and the milky sun threw little warmth. His mother had slowed down to a normal stride by the time he reached her. She did not look at him as Will came alongside of her.

  “They drugged you,” he said. “So you wouldn’t interfere.”

  He watched her open her mouth several times in the next half minute. Wanting to object but failing each time.

  “It did feel like being drugged,” Abby said at last. Barely audible over the wind and surf. “That’s exactly what it felt like. And I know I didn’t take anything.”

  “Johnny was going upstairs to get me, for the ceremony. One of the women went after him, to stop him. Maybe Muriel’s accomplice. That was the argument you heard.”

  She wrapped her arms about herself, squeezing tightly. Shaking her head over and over, though less in denial, it seemed, than resistance.

  “They wouldn’t have. They wouldn’t.”

  “It doesn’t need to have been all of them. There’s no reason to think Molly or Jenny were involved, for instance.”

  “Those bastards,” she said, the savagery back in her voice. He found the tone disturbing. “If they did that to me. If they were going to do something to you, they deserve every awful thing that’s happened to them.”

  “Come on, now.”

  “I’m serious,” she insisted. Then she turned to him. “But honey, I don’t believe it was Johnny. Maybe someone there had bad ideas, but Johnny knew you were his son. He would not have hurt you.”

  “No?” What to say to that? “He may not have looked at it that way. But he was twenty feet from my bedroom door. While the ceremony was going on downstairs, he was upstairs. He was there for some reason.”

  “I could talk to Molly,” she said after a few moments. “It’s been years, but—”

  “I talked to her,” Will replied. “She told me what she could.”

  “There’s Nancy Chester. I think that’s it, I think we’re the last three.”

  Will put his hands on her shoulders.

  “She’ll be bound by the oath. Like everyone else. Even Muriel, who was only there afterward. Eddie was our only chance, and he took care of that. I appreciate you trying to help, but the last thing I want is anybody else getting in the middle of this.”

  “What will you do?”

  “I’m trying not to do anything,” he said. “After all the trouble I’ve caused.”

  “They caused the trouble, not you. All of us did. I thought you had escaped it. I thought it was history now.”

  “Sam is looking into a couple of things.” He didn’t know how much to say about the spell book. Probably nothing. “She told me to sit tight.”

  “Do you trust her?” Abby asked.

  “Why shouldn’t I?” She made no reply and he did not press her. “It’s cold out here. Let’s head back.”

  Abby made no argument, and they turned and headed back up the sandy slope of dune. A huge black-backed gull took flight at their approach. It’s shadow, more immense than the bird itself, hung over them for several long moments before it turned out to sea.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-TWO

  Namaste, baby.

  Hey Johnny.
How you guys doing?

  We’re doing fine, ain’t we, Murr? Hello, little man, come over here.

  No.

  What’s the matter? Uncle Johnny’s your friend.

  I don’t like you.

  Hear that, Abby? The kid doesn’t like me.

  He’s just shy.

  Well hell, that’s all right. I was a shy kid too. Just like you, Willie.

  My name is Will.

  Muriel calls you Willie. Oh, but you like Muriel, right? I mean, who doesn’t? I’m mad about her myself.

  Give it a rest, John.

  See how the women gang up on me? That’s what they do, women. They gang up on the men. Overpower us with their righteous chi. You and me, we should be allies.

  Don’t go filling his head with junk like that.

  I’m telling him how it is between the sexes. His dad ain’t here, someone’s got to do it.

  My dad is a soldier.

  Not anymore, he ain’t. He’s a general contractor.

  He’s not a general. He’s a sergeant.

  That’s funny. No, what a general contractor does, he builds stuff for rich people. Because rich people always need more stuff.

  Has he been drinking this morning?

  Why are you asking her, I’m standing right here.

  My dad is a soldier.

  Have it your way. Is he off fighting another war? Is that why he ain’t here, with his son?

  He’s in California.

  A war zone if there ever was one. Class war against the Mexicans and Chinese. Which side do you figure your dad is on?

  We should be going.

  Fathers. They fuck you up, don’t they, kiddo?

  Stop it, Johnny.

  This is what happens when you try to speak the truth. People want to shut you up.

  Please, you wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you in the butt.

  Listen to her, huh? Nineteen and she already knows everything. You need to know something, you ask Muriel. The teenage sage. Understand?

  Okay.

  Come on, we’re leaving.

  What, we just got here?