He didn’t have a sense of ownership. Of lordship. Of dominating.
Even Aloysius had more of a sense of that than he did. Aloysius seemed to think of it more in terms of people, or horses, or dogs. This person or horse or dog works for me, he seemed to say in every gesture, and I will not fail to lead them. Which, now that Jerome thought about it, was a kind of nobility, especially considering that Aloysius lived in doubt, always in doubt.
Theodore owned his land and could not help dominating it. He didn’t dominate the people around him; he led them or let them lead him, however it fell out. But let someone cross him, and he was the fires of Hell itself.
Sebastian owned nothing, bitterly.
Liam.
Jerome was standing in front of an open door lost in his thoughts, then suddenly not lost in his thoughts anymore. He lifted his foot to take a step forward, stopped, and recovered the squish-light from his backpack.
He pressed it between his fingers; it glowed upon a black hole in the floor, just on the other side of the door. The hole was a little irregularly round-shaped and blurry around the edges. Jerome squatted down and touched the edge of the hole; it was soft and squishy, like a mattress made not out of cloth but of a foam with a toughened skin on it.
He reached further into the hole. The further his hand stretched, the softer and less familiar it felt, until, at the place where the hole was completely black, it was gone entirely.
He put the light back into his backpack, turned over on his stomach, and slid feet-first into the hole.
He didn’t feel anything in the hole, but he didn’t fall like he should have, either. He landed on his feet and brushed his hands against his legs. He felt covered in grease for a second; then it was gone. He decided that next time, he could step confidently forward and land without injury or discomfort (other than the feeling that he was a lump being oozed from a tube).
When he check the area with his light, it was more of the living area stuff. It was dusty and abandoned, just as above.
He put out his light, opened the door, and went out.
He was almost out of water again when he reached the door to the pit.
He had explored the next level of corridors and found nothing, then dropped another level, sinking slowly and comfortably down the hole, as expected.
The third level had been different than the first two, the walls rounder, without right angles. The clay had been covered with mud plaster that had been baked hard (but rough). It still smelled like dirt.
The corridors wandered, definitely moving toward a goal, but seeming to move around obstacles in the earth. Was it a pattern that had been copied from above ground, like a cow trail?
Jerome used the light several times. There were a few doors he couldn’t open. All the doors he couldn’t open had holes about two inches across directly over his head; the holes were covered with a grate whose holes were too small for him to fit his fingers through. A few of the doors with grates were standing open; when he searched them, he found large, sprawling living areas connected by extensive, wandering corridors. One of the living areas was still lit, all light browns and greens, with red patterns in the plaster at what would be the demons’ eye level.
He followed a dim light down a corridor, back and forth, the thing couldn’t stay straight long enough for him to see ten feet, until he came into a holding area into which several corridors led. There were three wide arches leading into a red, glowing area.
Jerome felt uncomfortable being out in the open. He crept toward the nearest arch and looked through. On the other side was a pile of broken, twisted, dirty machinery. He slid behind and among it until he was blocked from view from anywhere but above and he could see into the middle of the room.
The cage, the hammock, the demon, the machine with dials, they hadn’t changed. Celeste Marie was still asleep. Her hair had become so tangled it would have to be cut off.
Her face was covered with streaks and dirt. Her dress was half-torn off her. As he watched, the demon leaned toward the cage and laughed. Celeste Marie thrashed around, dislodging her dress even more.
Jerome knew he couldn’t give in to his panic. “I will free Celeste Marie,” he mouthed. Even though he didn’t make a breath of sound, he liked the rhyme. He mouthed it again and felt better.
How he was going to do that, he didn’t know.
As he crouched behind the broken machinery, he took the problem and broke it down into distinct areas, as Sebastian had taught him. A very large problem could not be properly broken down, as the solution to the problem in general often did not break down into discreet solutions for each sub-problem, but it was a useful mental tool, especially when overwhelmed. First, the demon was watching, and, in fact, continuing to torture Celeste Marie. As he watched, the demon stuck an arm through the cage bars and flicked Celeste Marie on the shoulder. She shuddered without opening her eyes.
Second, the cage. He would have to get Celeste Marie out of it.
Third, the machine. He would have to turn off the machine.
Fourth, Celeste Marie. He had no idea whether getting rid of the demon, the cage, and the machine would allow her to wake up and walk; he might have to carry her.
He had to acknowledge the possibility that it was some combination of the demon, cage, and machine that was keeping her alive at this point. He didn’t see any tubes going into or coming out of her; the hammock and her dress were stained with excrement.
Fifth, he didn’t know whether he was even considering the correct question or problem. Would freeing Celeste Marie solve anything? Would the demons simply leave her alone if he freed her? Would the world go back to what it once was? Or was it too late?
Nevertheless. “I will free Celeste Marie,” he said.
The demon had stopped messing around with the machine next to him, didn’t turn any dials. It pulled its hand out of the cage and leaned forward into the bars. “I would like something bad to happen to the priest,” he said. Jerome got the feeling the demon was talking to himself, except in English, so Celeste Marie could hear him. He scratched his ear and set the gold tags and their necklace chains to shaking.
Celeste Marie moaned.
“He has been interfering again. That book. I can’t keep him away from it for very long, it seems. And now he’s hiding. I would like him to be found.”
The demon leaned back. His nostrils flared, and he snorted. “He will be drunk. He will attack…he will attack…his father. Nargrah will react as he must. Perhaps the little priest will be killed, perhaps not. I leave that detail to your discretion.”
He was reaching toward the dials on the machine beside him when another demon entered from the doorway nearest Jerome.
The new demon walked past the pile of broken machinery without a second glance. Now that Jerome’s focus on Celeste Marie and the first demon had been broken, he noticed more about the room: it was full of junk. The broken pile of machinery behind which he spied on the demons was only one in about a hundred. In fact, the variety of junk was interesting. It was as though someone—the first demon?—had attempted a hundred and one things, then smashed each one up as it had failed.
“Granata,” the second demon said.
“Holok.”
“The Urgda are coming.”
Part of the floor of the room sloped downward, almost an entire level. At the bottom was a pit filled with flames so bright he couldn’t tell if they were burning something or were spurting out of pipes. The floor was falling in.
The first demon, Granata, the one with lots of tags, said, “I know they are coming.”
Holok stopped a distance away from the machine and the cage, far enough that two demons could have stood with arms outstretched and barely made a chain from the cage to Holok with their fingers brushing. “They are two circles away.”
Granata said, “How many of us are left?”
“I do not know. Hundreds. Eight hundred. We have to leave. There is no time.”
“There are not
enough dead to move eight hundred of us without the humans becoming aware of it, even using the galuk.”
Holok didn’t say anything.
Granata ran his knuckles across the back of the cage. He tossed his head from side to side as Holok shifted from one foot to another. Holok started to take a few steps backward.
“Wait,” Granata said.
Holok stamped the floor. Jerome got the feeling that if it had had a tail, it would have lashed the tail against its sides, trying to scatter imaginary flies.
“Order another attack,” Granata said. “The first portal. We will kill until we have killed enough.”
“The second portal,” Holok said. “There were more people in the area. I do not want to have to search and search and search for them.”
“Use the spheres.”
Holok nodded.
“I know it is dangerous—” Granata said.
Holok turned on his hoof back toward Jerome. Jerome noticed then that the demon was wearing a belt (a black belt on its black fur; it had gold trim on the front) from which hung a pair of gold-covered axes.
“Please be careful,” Granata said, but Holok had already passed Jerome and gone through the door.
Granata turned back toward the machine. Jerome clenched his fists and found himself holding a piece of metal, like a slice from a globe, with three sharp blades on the outside. He’d been lucky not to grab onto it from the other side, in fact.
Jerome threw the junk as hard as he could.
It wasn’t hard enough to hit the demon in the back of the head and impale it, causing it to slide down, dead in a single blow, so he could free Celeste Marie more easily. However, it did bite into the back of the demon’s leg, near the hoof.
The demon screeched. Jerome had a split second before the demon turned around to decide whether to stay concealed or not.
He ducked down and grabbed another bit of metal. This time, he wasn’t as lucky, and he felt something bite into his hand.
Chapter 31
Honey said, “What about your brother Connor?” and he suddenly remembered that Honey would probably think that his brother had been a demon all along. It only seemed to be his siblings that had retained any memory of the changes.
“He’s—”
“He’s been hiding Sebastian, hasn’t he?” Honey asked.
Aloysius cursed. Of course Honey would see right into the heart of things. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Don’t say anything. I’m trying—”
“You’ve been trying to get him to shape up for years. I can’t…” Honey stared out the window of the truck, into the distance. “Well, I can’t blame him for punching Father Dennis in the face. I’ve wanted to punch him in the face a time or two myself. Arrogant. Always belittling people. Acts like he knows more than anybody else does about things he clearly knows nothing about. And Sebastian isn’t the wisest acre on the farm.”
Aloysius gave her a brief grin. She didn’t make actual jokes very often, and he liked to encourage that kind of thing, even if they weren’t funny.
“He’s got to come out of hiding sometime,” Honey said.
“I know it.”
“And then he’s going to have to either face charges or talk Father Dennis out of it. It might be less painful for everyone for him to face charges.”
“I suppose you’ve got that one right.”
“How’s Liam doing?”
“I haven’t seen him since I, well. Since Connor.”
Honey gave him a look. “Something wrong?”
He tried saying something vague so she’d fill in the blanks. “You know how I feel about Liam.”
“I thought I did.”
So much for that idea. “It’s hard to say,” he said. Vague but true.
Honey looked at him steadily for a few more seconds, as if to remind him that, if he didn’t want to talk about it, she, for one, wasn’t about to just let it go but would find a more opportune moment to find out what was going on.
He turned onto the gravel road leading to the house. “When are we getting married?” he asked.
“So far, the third Saturday in April. The twenty-third.”
“After Easter?”
“The Saturday after Easter.”
“Sounds good.”
“Will you have a place ready for me by then?”
“I better, hadn’t I?”
“That’s right, you’d better.”
He looked over at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him. He poked her in the side, and she slapped his hand away. He pulled over at the side of the road and kissed her until they heard someone coming up the hill behind them. He let them pass; it was Theodore and his demon wife, grinning at the two of them. Theodore touched his cowboy hat as they drove past, and Maeve pointed at them, her mouth open, showing all her gigantic teeth.
“Sheesh,” Aloysius said. “You’d think we were…”
Honey smirked. “Were what?”
Aloysius whistled a few bars of the song “Wake up, Little Susie” and followed Theodore in to the farm.
An unfamiliar demon (if a familiar demon wasn’t an oxymoron, he didn’t know what was) was standing next to Theodore, talking excitedly about a movie he’d seen at the drive-in.
“Hi, Nick,” Honey said. “How did you like The Magnificent Seven?”
“It was amazing!”
Nick?
Nickolas?
The baby who had been stillborn? Nickolas?
If the demons could replace a boy who had been stillborn eighteen years ago, where was his mother?
Aloysius patted Nick on the shoulder, reaching up to do so. Nick grinned innocently, enthusiastically. “Loysh! You promised to help me work on the motorcycle! When are you coming over to help me work on the dirt bike?”
“How about tomorrow?” he asked.
“Not today?”
“Can’t you see I’m all dressed up?” He was wearing church clothes, anyway.
“Oh. Tomorrow.” The demon’s face fell, his wide, snorting nostrils collapsing into slits.
“After I get my chores done.”
“Okay.”
Aloysius laughed. “Good lord, Nick. You’d think I’d told you I’d help you fix your motorcycle after Hell froze over.”
“Aloysius!” Peggy was walking down the sidewalk. She gave Honey and the demon-Maeve a hug. Aloysius still wasn’t sure whether she knew what was going on or not.
“Boy’s got to learn how to swear sometime,” he said.
“He can learn that at State,” she said.
“Going to miss me?” Nick said.
Peggy shook her head, closing her eyes. “You know I will, sweetie.”
She knew? She didn’t know?
“Supper’s ready,” Peggy announced, and they all went inside. Sebastian wasn’t there, but Connor was.
Liam was standing up from the chair, refusing Connor’s offer to help him up. Robert was sitting at the table already. When he looked up at Aloysius, he had a vile expression on his face, as though he’d been eating something bitter or he was about to burst into tears. Jealous of Connor? was all Aloysius could guess.
They’d just got seated, and Peggy had led them in grace, asking for special help in finding Jerome and Celeste Marie and especially for Sebastian, wherever he was. They all sat in silence for a few seconds, nobody daring to speak, until Liam said, “Good bread, good meat, good God, let’s eat!” and Connor laughed. Peggy started to pass the food in front of her, handing around everything but the mashed potatoes and gravy without touching it.
It was good as always, chicken-fried steak and green beans and mashed potatoes and watermelon, homemade biscuits and honey.
Nickolas apparently had never learned how to shut up. Aloysius wondered how Jerome would have turned out, growing up around a boy who couldn’t put two thoughts in order. Jerome probably would have killed him by the time Jerome was six. Or never said two words to him, anyway.
>
Aloysius sighed. Honey looked at him again, reminding him that words would be had, and the phone rang.
“I’ll get it,” Peggy said. She got out of her chair before anyone could help her up and clickety clacked to Liam’s bedroom, which had been an office when the house had first been built.
They all continued to eat, except Robert, who had barely touched anything on his plate, and Nick, who wouldn’t shut up. Aloysius strained to overhear Peggy’s side of the conversation. It wasn’t usual to get a phone call, especially not in the middle of supper.
“Hello? Hello, Tekawitha. No, why would I? That’s odd. No, I didn’t hear him say anything about being out. If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll ask Liam.”
Peggy stepped out of the hallway into the living room, stuck her head around the arch into the dining room, and said, “Do any of you happen to know where Father Dennis might be? He’s supposed to be getting ready for Bible study tonight, but Tekawitha hasn’t seen or heard from him all day.”
Aloysius shook his head. Liam and Connor exchanged a glance, then shook their heads.
Peggy left. “No, we haven’t seen him here. All right, I will. No, they’re probably on their way to the church right now as it is; I’d just tell them when they get in. Unless Father Dennis comes back in time, of course. Don’t worry about it. Take care. Bye.”
Aloysius kept eating.
Peggy returned, and he stood up to help her back into her seat.
She said, “Father Dennis is missing,” forgetting that she’d just told them.
“I wonder where he is,” Nick said.
Maeve sighed. When Aloysius looked at her, she had twisted her napkin into a rope, and was still twisting it, turning it into shreds. Theodore was watching her. Finally she looked at him. He stood up, helped her out of her seat, and let her go out of the room without him.
The phone rang again. Peggy stood up, but Liam said, “Let Connor get it,” and she sat down again.
Chance Damnation Page 16
