Before the Devil Fell

by Neil Olson

  He studied the image a few more minutes, especially the faces. Then flipped the picture over and searched the brown paper backing. The elegant handwriting in one corner had faded almost to invisibility, and he had to look very closely: Gerald, Ethel, and Cindy Hall, with Tom. Warren, Maine, 1924. I was friends with the daughter, Evelyn Price’s voice spoke in his head. Cindy. Summer friends. My parents said stay away. Climbing around the roof at night and hypnotizing her sister. The only case of possession I’ve ever seen.

  She’s talking about us, Sam had complained in the car afterward. Halls make the messes and Prices have to clean them up. Will closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He did not know everything, but he knew enough. He did not rehang the photograph. He simply turned and left the study, left the house.

  The Honda was also unlocked. It had been too much to hope that he’d find the keys in the ignition. They were not in the glove compartment either, nor any of the receptacles around the seat or the door. He was about to go back in and search the house when he reached up and flipped down the sun visor. A chunky set of keys fell heavily in his lap. Willing his hands to stop shaking, he picked them up and squeezed hard, the cold metal biting into his fingers. Then he slipped the largest key into the ignition and the little car clattered to life.

  Passing his house, he thought he saw Abby at the window, watching him drive away. He prayed that she would not try to follow him.

  There were no streetlights on Mount Gray. Only headlights to guide him, and the occasional lit window, tucked back in the trees. The driveways did not have numbers, but that did not matter. Will remembered that Tom Hall’s was the last. As soon as it came into view, he slowed rapidly, driving as far off the margin of road as the brush allowed. Small branches and saplings scraped against the car as he stopped. Well, she needed a new paint job anyway. He would even pay for it, if her friends and relations didn’t murder him tonight.

  As the headlights died, he saw how dark it was. The clouds had a weird luminosity, but allowed no moon or starlight to penetrate, and the wooded hill was utterly black. He opened the door and got out. The air was cooler here, and once again he wished he had grabbed a jacket. The long, sloping drive was just discernible between the trees. He walked swiftly upward, his feverish blood warming him. There was a roll of distant thunder.

  Within moments, he sensed a presence nearby. Sensed rather than saw, because seeing would have been impossible. Yet his mind placed a shadowy figure just at the edge of vision, walking in stride with him through the dense thicket on the right. The ghost of Eddie Price? Or another of the dead or never-living companions he had acquired since coming home? More likely the familiar tormentor who had stalked him since childhood. Who might even be killing his enemies to protect him. Strange that though the presence instilled fear, it was a lesser fear to what lay ahead of him in the house. Or all fears had become one, and the need to know exactly what was happening had overcome them.

  “I know you’re there,” Will whispered. “How about you leave things to me tonight?”

  The specter made no reply, and Will continued.

  Unlit, and backed tightly into the hill, the house was not visible until he was upon it. The shadows of at least five vehicles were in the gravel circle, and a faint orange glow came from somewhere. He walked the perimeter as far as the terrain allowed. The shades were drawn and that dim, flickering light came from around their edges. Candles. He listened a long time, first at the windows and then the door. Nothing. How could so many people be so silent? Were they upstairs? Or out in the woods somewhere? He had not considered the last possibility until then. Unless they were using some light source out there, he would never find them. But it seemed unlikely. No, they were in the house. He tried one of the windows in what he remembered as the kitchen, but it wouldn’t budge. The sky rumbled once more.

  A woman’s voice. Inside, yet strangely muffled. Shouting a single word, then repeating it. No, it sounded like. No, no. Impossible to identify, and yet he was sure it was Sam. Panic jumped up in him. Don’t overthink things, he heard his father say, and Will grabbed the doorknob.

  His arm flying up in the air, nearly dislocating from his shoulder, preceded any sensation. Then the shock hit his whole body at once, punching the air from his lungs. He did not remember falling, but found himself on his back. Gasping for air, grasping for comprehension. Thanks for the advice, Dad.

  In a moment or two, he could feel sensation in most of his body again, except the right arm, which was completely numb, like a club sewn to his torso. And the shoulder actually hurt. It had been some sort of electric shock. The door was wired. Idiot, he should have known better. Sam had warned him about touching things at Evelyn Price’s house. Samantha, right. Where was she? What were they doing to her in there?

  The front door opened, and a shadow stepped out and stood over him.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Will stayed calm until he tried to move. His left arm and right leg twitched, but there was no other response from his muscles. Fear set in then. He did not know if he could even fight this shadow, but being completely helpless before it terrified and enraged him. He spoke some incoherent words and tried to move again.

  “Take it easy,” said a familiar voice. The shadow separated into two forms. The second wore a sort of gown or robe that went to the ground. “Get his feet,” said the first.

  Jimmy Duffy, looking taller from ground level. Jimmy stepped from view and a moment later grabbed Will by the shoulders, lifting him. His head bobbed against Jimmy’s chest while the robed figure tried with some difficulty to lift his legs. Will felt strength return and started kicking. The figure dropped his feet at once.

  “What are you doing?” Jimmy snapped.

  “He’s kicking me,” whined a young male voice, not at all what Will was expecting.

  “Useless pussy,” Jimmy grumbled. Then louder, in Will’s ear. “Can you stand on your own?”

  “I’m, I’m a...”

  “I’ll take that as yes.”

  The other two slipped under each of his shoulders and moved forward. Will found that his stumbling feet could keep pace with them. Through the open door they went, where it was brighter than Will expected. A glowing orange rectangle shone in the center of the living room floor. The sofa had been pulled away, the Oriental carpet rolled, just as Sam and Will intended days ago. And a three-by-six foot trapdoor sat upright on its hinges, revealing a narrow stair. The light wavered, and thin smoke drifted upward.

  “There isn’t room for us to go down like this,” Jimmy said.

  Will shoved the robed kid aside with his left arm, and Jimmy dropped his still-numb right one. And he was standing under his own power. Barely. Jimmy went first, a hand bracing Will’s chest as he descended, one careful step at a time. The younger man came after, obviously afraid to touch Will again.

  The chamber was small. Seven feet high and just wide enough for a long wooden table and low shelves crammed with books. Candles were on the table, flickering vigorously as Will came down. The scattered light caught parts of five seated bodies. At the head of the table sat a robed and hooded figure. A dark red book was on the table before it. The robe was gray and supple with age. Symbols were stitched along the sleeves and the belt.

  The other four figures were women, and Will began to recognize them. Molly Jordan was on the robed figure’s left, facing Will. A kind expression on her face. He was more surprised to see Margaret Price beside her. Her mouth was a hard line, and candlelight made orange flares of her glasses, obscuring her eyes. Beside her was an empty chair, and at the foot of the table was a very old woman he did not know. Also robed. Two more empty chairs sat on the near side, but between them a woman shifted painfully around in her seat, a cane beside her. Thickset, gray-haired, looking a decade older than she was, Nancy Chester peered curiously at him.

  The young man who had come down behind Will took
one of the empty seats. Splotch-faced and nervous, he could not have been more than a teenager, and his shiny black robe looked silly and cheap. Like something his mother had sewn for him just a few Halloweens ago. Will balanced himself against the empty chair to the hooded figure’s right. Jimmy hovered next to him, as if fearing he would bolt back up the stairs. It took Will a few moments to notice the last occupant. Standing in the corner, her arms folded. Blond hair covering most of her downturned face. Will was about to say her name when the figure at the head of the table rose and folded back the hood.

  “Welcome, William,” said Tom Hall, a warm smile on his face.

  “Took long enough,” Margaret Price added.

  “Are you all right?” Molly asked. “You don’t look good.”

  “We knew he was coming,” Margaret scolded Tom, seemingly annoyed with all of them. “You should have removed the protection.”

  “If he’s fool enough not to knock,” croaked the robed old woman at the foot of that table, “he got what he deserved.”

  Will didn’t like the old hag’s tone, but he was inclined to agree with her.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked, testing his own voice. Then, with more strength: “What are you all doing?”

  “Making things right,” said Nancy Chester.

  “We’re trying to undo the harm we did,” Molly said earnestly, the candlelight playing wildly on her broad face.

  Margaret Price sniffed. She had nothing to do with that earlier business, and clearly did not like being included in “we.”

  “Where’s Evelyn?” Will asked her. “Shouldn’t she be here?”

  “My mother,” said Margaret, adjusting her glasses, “does not wholly approve of this gathering.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Why are you?” she shot back.

  Because I didn’t know what I was walking into, he thought. Though that was at least half a lie. Still, he did not like Evelyn’s absence. She was mean, but he trusted her. He was not sure there was anyone in this room he trusted, however much it grieved him to think that.

  “We’re all here tonight to assist you in your struggle,” Tom announced. “If you let us. I think you know most everyone. This,” he said, pointing to the woman at the end of the table “is Ruth Brown, who came all the way from Maine. Eugene Stafford there,” he pointed to the twitchy young man, “is her great-nephew, and not only consented to driving her, but to joining us in our ceremony.”

  They had gotten so thin on Browns and Staffords, they had to import them. Three in the room counted as Halls. There was a Price and a Chester. Jimmy represented the Branfords, and of course Will now knew he was a Payson. Which meant that old Tom did too, as there was no other Payson here. Did they all know? Had they known all along? Had Sam?

  “Looks like you’ve got one of each,” Will said dully.

  “We’re a contrary, bickering bunch,” Tom replied. “But the families always pull together in times of need.” His blue eyes behind the thick lenses were alive with intelligence. Clearly he had remained coherent enough at one stretch to organize all of this. Would he lose focus again in a few minutes? Or was the senile Tom merely a fabrication? Some kind of cover? If so, he was a very good actor, for Will had found his bewilderment convincing.

  “Why didn’t you tell us about this the last time we were here?” Will asked, fixing his eyes on the old man.

  “There was nothing to tell,” Tom answered. “It was only when I saw you that day that I knew what was wrong. What was necessary.”

  “And why are you the man to do this, when you screwed it up so badly before?”

  “No,” said Molly quickly. “That was a summoning. We didn’t know what we were doing. This is a banishment.”

  “And I’m supposed to think you know what you’re doing now?” Will challenged.

  Tom shook his head slowly and raised his hands for silence.

  “The ceremony was done properly. There was a break in the circle at a critical moment, and things went wrong.”

  “You never should have tried it,” Will said.

  “You’re right,” Tom answered sadly, his hands dropping heavily to his sides. He somehow managed to look regal in the ridiculous robe. “I’ve lived with it every day since then. But I can’t change the past.”

  At least he had confirmation of that much. The men had argued, as Sam remembered. But it wasn’t Tom telling Johnny not to tamper with evil spells. It was Tom instructing him in their use, and berating Johnny when he got scared. And finally, it was Tom coming over to lead the ceremony himself. The ceremony Johnny had ruined by breaking the circle, by trying to save his son. A transgression he had paid for with his life.

  “Why did you do it?” asked Will.

  “The same reason as every man before me,” Tom replied. “To do it. To confer with a being outside of our normal experience. To gain knowledge unknown by men, and thereby add to the knowledge of our species. These aren’t small things, Will. We don’t know how much of human understanding, supposedly derived by science, was in reality brought to us by these messengers.”

  “I didn’t think professors believed in shortcuts.”

  “Oh, there’s nothing easy about it,” said Tom.

  “Clearly not. So what were you going to do to me that night?” The old man blinked several times but did not speak. “Tell me,” Will demanded, slamming the table with his hand, toppling a candle.

  “Mind your manners,” Ruth Brown croaked. “You don’t speak to an elder that way.”

  “I’ll speak to this particular one as I please,” said Will.

  “Didn’t your mother teach you better—”

  “You don’t even know what this is about,” he snarled, energy returning to his body. “So just keep quiet.”

  “Oh yes,” she murmured, nodding her ancient head. “Yes indeed. He’s got a devil in him all right.”

  “You heard him,” said Sam, springing from her sullen pose against the wall. “You shut up, old woman.”

  They were the first words she had spoken since he entered the chamber. And though he had come to depend upon her calm, her anger at this moment buoyed him. The others looked unnerved by Sam’s words, and Will’s.

  “Can we get on with this?” Jimmy said.

  “Answer me,” Will persisted.

  Tom sighed and hung his head. Less in contrition, Will sensed, than like a professor thinking how to make a complex idea simple. Thunder sounded overhead, rattling the house.

  “There is always some risk in summoning a spirit. If done right, the being is caught and held in its own form. Or formless, yet present.”

  “What the heck does that mean?” asked Eugene Stafford.

  “Hush,” said Ruth.

  “If the summoning fails, the worst thing likely to happen is the spirit departs. In some cases, very rare cases, the spirit gets free. Even then,” Tom went on quickly, “there’s little risk, because most are benevolent. And yet a few of them, without doubt, are mischievous, and may choose to stay.”

  “You’re talking about possession,” said Will.

  “They may, for a time, take control of one of those present. Now, if the spirit is mischievous, and the body it possesses is strong, well, you can see what I’m saying, can’t you?”

  “Say it.”

  “There is almost no possibility that a being, a malevolent being, would occupy me, for instance. Yet were it to happen, with all that I know... It would be dangerous.”

  “What does that have to do with Will?” asked Sam.

  “The spirit is likely to choose the easiest body to enter and control.”

  “A child,” Will said.

  “Dear God,” whispered Molly.

  “It’s an old custom to have a child present for a summoning,” Ruth Brown intoned. As if its being tradition justified it. “I
t soothes the spirit.”

  “Luckily,” Tom went on, “that’s also the body from which it can do the least harm. And from which it is most easily dislodged. Assuming it doesn’t get bored and leave on its own.”

  “Tell cousin Cindy that,” replied Will.

  Irritation flashed in the old blue eyes.

  “Cindy was a troubled girl long before that happened. Her father was a fool. No, that’s not fair. But Gerald was damaged in the war, not in his right mind. He never should have attempted something like that.”

  “Sounds like you were there,” said Will.

  “I was around, yes. You can learn from bad lessons as well as good ones.”

  “So,” Will said, standing up straight. “I was someplace to dump the malicious little fiend if things got out of hand.”

  “That’s a hard way to put it,” Tom replied.

  “But true.”

  “It never would have come to that,” the old man maintained.

  “We don’t know, do we?” But he felt the fight going out of him. They could debate the past all night. His mother and Muriel might want them all to suffer for their offenses, but all he wanted was to be whole again. He looked at Sam. “Do I do this?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered, hardly able to look at him. “You have to decide.”

  It was what he expected. She had neither called him to this place, nor prevented his coming, which meant she was torn. Her grandfather at the head of the coven would have been enough to throw her all by itself.