Old Wounds

by Ren Hamilton

  “I’d also like to know what you mean by demons, especially if they pose a threat,” Litner said.

  “They don’t pose a threat to you,” Juris said. “They’re pests, nothing more. Forget about them. They’re a concern for the Schlarr, not you, or us.”

  Litner looked to Shep. “You did say you’d explain demons to me when we had more time.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake, here we go.” Shep slapped his hands on the table. “I meant if I had actual time, which we don’t right now. And I was hoping you’d forget.”

  “I didn’t forget.”

  Shep rolled his eyes. “But it doesn’t matter, Litner. And Carbone, these details won’t help you tend your flock or whatever. I don’t have patience to teach a class on demons right now, plus it would be hard to explain to someone like you. You’re simple and narrow minded. You’ve spent too many years letting other people tell you what to think.”

  Carbone leaned forward, giving Shep his best glare. “Then dumb it down for me. Or there’s the fucking door.”

  “Is this a deal breaker?”

  “Not answering my questions is a deal breaker. This is not about tending my flock. You can clearly see that this house is connected to the church by only a few feet. I sleep above that basement. You want to summon supernatural shit to my home? Where I live? You give me all the details I ask for first.”

  “Fair enough.” Shep focused on Carbone, linking his hands in front of him on the table. “When human beings gather and focus as one, it creates a unique surge of spiritual energy that is quite tasty to The Light. As you live the seeds of this energy grows within you. When you die, what’s left of it goes back to The Light. It’s not a bad deal, you’ll like it once you get there. But make no mistake about your existence. You’re fuel for something else. You understand?”

  Carbone nodded.

  “To us,” Shep said, “you’re just one part of our job. Making sure all that tasty energy makes it back to the source. To The Light, you’re nothing but batteries to keep it charged. The Light is a parasite. A very old and powerful one with intelligence you cannot fathom, but a parasite nonetheless.”

  “But The Light means something more to you,” Carbone said. “Shepherd, you yourself told us, that night at Forest Bluffs, that you wanted it to take you back.”

  Shep’s cheeks flushed red. “That was before it sat around getting fat and doing nothing while my brother Allisto was destroyed by its minions. The Light can go fuck itself.”

  “But why did you want it to take you back? If it’s nothing but—”

  “Get off Shepherd’s back,” Juris interrupted. “The Light is addictive in a way you couldn’t possibly understand. We’ve been away from it long enough to control that craving. Our brother Allisto never quite got it out of his system, and Litner, you saw what happened to him. It makes no difference what The Light means to us. We are getting off track. You asked about demons. What do you wish to know?”

  Shep exhaled, as though relieved Juris had taken the reins.

  “Okay,” the priest said, his eyes looking upward as he formulated his thoughts. “Are they bad? Evil?”

  “That’s subjective,” Shep said.

  “Do they feed off negative energy? Like…war? Negative gatherings?”

  “No.” Juris huffed. “If they did, no one would care. Negative energy doesn’t matter because it doesn’t provide a fuel source. Even if the world is war-torn, there’s usually enough positive balance that The Light gets what it needs.”

  “And you fuckers breed like rabbits,” Shep said.

  “Just to touch on your plan a bit, Shep,” Carbone said. “You said that the population would have eyes toward Joey because he’d have the cure for infertility. But wouldn’t that energy be negative, more like desperation?”

  “No,” Shep said. “Because it will…” He glanced at Litner. “Because it would, hypothetically, be based on hope. Hope is never negative. And let’s take the focus off me, shall we? That’s not why we’re here.”

  “Okay, last question,” Carbone said. Shep grunted irritably, but met his eyes, waiting. “When you say the Schlarr are protecting these...gatherings of people focused on something positively, what exactly are they protecting them from?”

  Shep’s eyes slid to Agent Litner. “He’s really not too bright, is he?”

  “Demons,” Litner said, glancing at Carbone. “They’re saying demons are energy thieves.”

  “Give the lawman a prize,” Shep said. “Demons try to syphon off The Light’s fuel. They hang around gathering places, waiting to grab a few gallons for their own tank. Schlarr come in like security guards and take them down.”

  Father Carbone looked at Juris. “Then if you’re not demons, why did the Schlarr come for you when you were in my basement?”

  “Screw you!” Juris said.

  Carbone raised his hands. “It’s just a question.”

  “Easy, Juris,” Shep said.

  “The priest is trying to insinuate we’re in league with demons. How insulting. Demons are low. Worthless energy leeches.”

  “I’m sorry,” Carbone said. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I just—”

  “Our energy obviously reads as foreign to the Schlarr,” Shep said. “It trips their security system because we register as nonhuman. That Schlarr that came for Juris certainly figured out he wasn’t a demon when it got here, so it just shooed Juris out. If he’d been a demon, the Schlarr would have destroyed him or at least gravely injured him.”

  “But what are demons?” Litner asked. “Ghosts? Spirits? Aliens? What are they?”

  Shep’s shoulders slumped. “They’re fucking demons! What does it matter?”

  “Just tell them what we know so we can move on,” Juris said to Shep.

  The room fell silent, waiting for him to speak. “They serve another entity,” Shep said finally. “Okay? Something other than The Light.”

  “Satan?” the priest asked.

  Juris snorted a laugh and Shep made a sour face. “There’s no such thing as Satan,” Shep said. “This other entity is no fallen angel; it’s completely separate from any being related to us. It’s an ancient intelligence much like The Light. But not as strong, because it’s not quite as old, and doesn’t have as many worlds to feed off. And the worlds it does have don’t provide as fruitful spiritual energy as the ones The Light has cultivated. Just as we are all minions to The Light, demons are its minions, and they work as thieves for it. They steal energy whenever they’re able. Our kind guards the byways so they never get away with much loot near the source. But sometimes they break through and come here to your planet. To steal the energy from crowds before it reaches the source. Easy pickings until the Schlarr show up.”

  Carbone grimaced. “So it’s more than likely there have been demons in my church before. During a packed service, for instance.”

  “Oh, absolutely,” Shep said. “But the fact that a Schlarr came so quickly when Juris was here means your space is under protection, so take comfort in that.”

  “Do demons ever possess the living?” Carbone asked softly. “Or is that just folklore and stories? I realize as a priest I’m supposed to believe in such things, but it doesn’t seem credible. Especially after hearing all this.”

  Shep’s shoulders tightened. “Sometimes it happens. They do it to steal energy.”

  “What?” Litner sneered. “Possession. They really get that…invasive?”

  “Yeah, sorry,” Shep said. “I knew you guys wouldn’t like that. Doesn’t happen often, but yes, demons can be nasty little buggers.”

  “Very rare occurrence,” Juris added. “Almost never happens.”

  “Almost never,” Shep concurred.

  The priest huffed. “Common enough that there are texts and exorcists devoted to it.”

  “Hogwash.” Shep rolled his eyes. “If on the off chance you ever come across what you think is a genuinely possessed parishioner, don’t call on any of that bullshit. Call out to a Schlarr. The
y’ll take care of it. You don’t need an exorcist or any special books.”

  Carbone sighed heavily. “That’s definitely not what they teach us.”

  “Your superiors want you to believe there is some puzzle to solve or magical words needed, but this is not true,” Juris said. “They could be calling on Jesus or Thor or Mickey Mouse to help expel the demon, but it’s always a Schlarr that removes it, unless the demon leaves on its own.”

  Father Carbone had paled a bit. He poured himself a cup of tea and took a sip. Setting his cup down, he looked at Shep. “But if God created everything, wouldn’t he also be in control of these...beings?”

  “The Light did not create everything!” Shep shouted. “I keep telling you this and you won’t listen. Demons are the minions of a different entity. Similar to The Light, it’s really, really fucking old. They are ancient and powerful life forms that you can’t possibly understand. But they are life forms, Father Carbone. And you, us, even those disgusting demonic thieves, are all their bitches.”

  Father Carbone stared at Shep, his mouth slightly agape.

  “There,” Shep said, reaching over and patting the priest’s hand. “Feel better now that you have all this knowledge?”

  Carbone let out a hard breath. “No.”

  “Didn’t expect you would,” Shep said. “Are we done with this now? I’m trying to save my own family here, but if another assassin comes, your people will die too.”

  “Agreed, let’s move on.” Litner pulled out his gold pen and tapped on the table. “Are you certain these Schlarr have access to information? Things happening on the other side?”

  Shep jerked a thumb at Litner. “See that, Father Carbone? That’s called an important question.” Shep turned to Litner. “They can get information if they want to. The Schlarr use the byways to go back and forth from here to there. They rarely talk to anyone unless it’s to growl if one of us gets too close to them. Come through in packs, just staring straight. They’re weird.”

  Juris snickered. “Shepherd, do your impression of the Schlarr coming through the byways.”

  “No.”

  “Do it!”

  “No.”

  “They’re all like this.” Juris widened his eyes and pursed his lips, dangling his arms in front of him like a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

  Shep snickered. “Not bad. Show them what they do if you’re blocking their path.”

  “Oh yeah,” Juris said. “This is how they let you know they want you to move out of the way.” Juris made the face again and stretch one arm out slowly, finger pointed, and poked Father Carbone in the forehead.

  “Hey!” Carbone jerked back. “Don’t touch me please.”

  “Be thankful I’m not really a Schlarr,” Juris said. “They have claws.”

  Litner cleared his throat. “Aside from their appearance, staring and what have you, why do you say they’re weird? Are they naturally hostile?”

  “Depends,” Shep said. “They creep everyone out because no one knows much about them. Technically they’re ranked lower than we are, but they get special treatment. They’re allowed very close contact with The Light. They should look happier than they do.”

  “And they scratch,” Juris said, rubbing his cheek. “It really hurts.”

  “They don’t talk much,” Shep said. “But when they do, they’re super mean and insulting.”

  “Coming from you, that’s saying something,” Litner said.

  “I’m a kitten compared to the Schlarr,” Shep said. “Trust me. Not that we have much interaction with them. They have total access to everything, every sector, but they don’t get involved in what happens in the byways, just use them for travel purposes. But they certainly have the option to get information if they agree to help us. If we can convince them.”

  “So...” Litner twirled his pen. “You plan to ask them to find out who ordered the assassin, Preet.”

  Shep and Juris nodded.

  “You think they’ll tell you?” Carbone asked.

  “Don’t know,” Juris said. “But they’ll either tell us the truth or they’ll say nothing. They cannot lie.”

  “Then I’d like to bear witness to this, if I may,” Litner said. “I’m entitled to this information. As you pointed out, Shepherd, this affects all of us.”

  “Steven,” Carbone said, wincing, “I’ve seen one of these things. It made me wet my pants. It’s like…beautiful at first but then suddenly it’s bearing fangs at you.”

  “It wasn’t beautiful,” Juris said, rolling his eyes. “You’re easily impressed.”

  “You can watch if you want to,” Shep said to Litner. “But I can’t guarantee you’ll understand anything it says if we can get it to talk.” He turned to the priest. “You, we need however. Will you stay with us until it shows up?”

  Carbone scowled. “Did you not hear the part about me wetting my pants?”

  “If you’re with us,” Juris said to Carbone, “we think it will show up more quickly. You’re the leader of this church.” His eyes flitted around the room, then up at the ceiling. “Nothing here yet though.”

  Carbone glanced around. “You said you wanted access to my basement because that’s where it showed up before. But that’s because Juris was tied up down there. Wouldn’t it come in anywhere in the house? I’d really like to sleep in my own bed.”

  “It’s your decision,” Shep said. “I don’t intend to let that thing touch me or Juris, but I’m sure it will try. Things could get a little tossed up around here. Messy.”

  Agent Litner stood. “Although I agree Father Carbone could use some new furniture, I don’t want it to be because all of his has been broken.” He looked at the priest. “I’m sorry. But while it’s not the most solid idea I’ve ever heard, I think this warrants an attempt. I’d like to get some supplies and set up in the basement. Will you do this with me?”

  “Of course. If there’s a chance it will prevent more deaths, of course.” He glared at Juris. “But if that thing is coming back to my house, I want to be able to actually see it, like before.”

  Juris’s eyes shifted to Agent Litner. “We’ll need some spray bottles. The kind that can mist the air.” He looked at Carbone. “And the same mixture of herbs as before.”

  “I have two spray bottles, and all the herbs but clover,” Carbone said.

  White eyebrows lowered as Juris thought. “I can find something similar outside that will suffice, don’t worry about it. You have everything else?”

  “Yes. But as I recall, you have to provide the final ingredient.”

  “You may use my blood,” Juris said. “Five drops for each bottle should do it.”

  “It comes through invisible?” Litner asked.

  “At first,” Juris said. “To the human eye, anyway. But we can fix that.”

  “You’ll probably have an easier time of this if you can’t see it, though,” Shep said.

  “I want to see it if it shows up,” Carbone said. “No matter how much it scares me, the idea of not being able to see it, and knowing it’s there, scares me more.”

  “Great,” Litner said. “Let’s hope it actually says something useful. And Shepherd, I trust you will translate any message for me? Truthfully, please?”

  “I’ll try to get it to speak English for you, but I can’t promise anything. Like I said Litner, you really don’t have to hang around if you don’t want to, I’ll report everything it said after. Truthfully. I have no need to lie.”

  “I am damn well going to be here for this, whether I can understand the language or not,” Litner said. “I don’t think Father Carbone is too keen to be left alone with the two of you. No offense.”

  “None taken,” Shep said. “Okay, let’s get ready.”

  Father Carbone grunted. “So much for my quiet evening alone.”

  “Hey, buck up,” Shep said. “Now you have someone to share that lasagna with.”

  “That lasagna is for a church event tomorrow,” Carbone said.

  “Not anymor
e,” Shep said. “I’ve spent the past hour smelling it, I’m eating the hell out of that lasagna when it’s done.”

  Juris looked at Carbone. “Do you have any chocolate?”

  “No.”

  “Brownies?”

  “I’ll run to the store and get snacks,” Litner said.

  “How about some liquor?” Shep asked.

  “No,” Litner said. “I think it’s best we all stay focused and sober.”

  Shep chuckled. “We’ll stay focused. But I think you’re gonna regret the sober part.”

  ****

  Father Carbone and Juris huddled together—an odd sight—the two meticulously mixing things like wine and salt and herbs into the spray bottles. When each bottle was completed, the priest handed it off to Juris, who sliced his thumb with a Swiss Army knife. Carbone didn’t even flinch as Shep’s brother added several drops of his own blood, then swirled the mixture.

  The long basement space was dingy but clean, old pews and crumbling religious statues pushed up against the walls in controlled chaos, creating disturbing shadows in the dim lighting. Litner’s eyes kept flitting to the various statues as he’d catch one out of the corner of his eye, thinking it was something else...something arriving from another world. But thus far, the stone angels with broken wings, Virgin Mary with chipped paint, and a few dusty saints were their only company.

  Litner had several messages from Tyler Palumbo, who was, in his absence, running the small team Michaels put together in his secret quest to open the Cripulet. Litner didn’t know quite what he was going to do with them once this was over, but he was happy to have them at the moment, as they were proving more than competent in handling things like melted steel walls and other disturbing details of the operation.

  He himself had requested to take some of his long-earned vacation time in order to deal with this. His superiors didn’t hesitate to approve the time off, likely attributing it to grief at losing his boss in the tragic accident that took his life. Dr. Wang hadn’t been happy about helping them fabricate evidence of an explosion, but he knew he could count on her silence. Her friendship, however, was now questionable; she’d barely spoken a word to him about anything beyond the matters at hand, couldn’t seem to look him in the eye since Michaels’ death.