The Raven Flies At Night

by Janine R Pestel

  The item was Silver in color and had an inscription on the back. Johann adjusted his glasses so that he could look through the bottom part of the bifocal lens. He took note the inscription was a demon trap. He glanced over the rim of his glasses, at the priest.

  “Where did you get that,” he asked.

  “Ah,” said Father Nelson, as he placed the talisman on his desk, “I obtained that when I was in South Africa, as a missionary. The natives were being troubled, as they told me, by a demon. One day, a high priest came to the village and suddenly, the demon vanished. When I spoke with the high priest and asked him how he vanquished the demon, he told me he was able to do that, because he possessed this.”

  “And, you believed him,” Johann asked, his brow furrowed.

  “I did, indeed. And, so should you. You see, he was no ordinary high priest. He was a demon hunter. This little talisman, here, besides having a demon trap on it, has been blessed.”

  “So, I would only have to show this to the demon to make it turn tail and run,” Johann asked, as he picked up the talisman and examined it.

  “No. Not quite. But, as long as you have this in your possession, and somewhere on your person when you fight the demon, you won't need to bless your shotgun shells in holy water anymore -,” he stopped, as Johann glanced at him. “Yes, we all know how you kill the demons. You bless your shotgun shells in holy water. It's not a secret to us.” Johann gazed at him, then back to the talisman.

  “The blessing of this talisman has caused it to have certain powers,” Father Nelson said, “Powers to generate a shield. A barrier of protection for you, and whoever fights with you, while you battle the demon. If the fight becomes hand-to-hand, touch this to the demon's skin. Look at it as having reinforcements of sorts. I want you and Robert to use this, and keep it on you at all times.” He said as he handed the object to Johann.

  “Thank you very much,” Johann said, as he took the talisman, and placed it in his pocket. He took a small piece of paper that was lying on the desk and wrote something. When he was through, he handed the slip to the priest.

  “Here,” he said, “Just in case you ever need it, here's my phone number.”

  “Thank you,” said Father Nelson, as he placed the paper in his drawer

  -6-

  Forty-five minutes later, Johann and Robert were back in their motel room. They prepared to devour the fast food dinner they purchased for themselves at a local drive-thru.

  “Did you happen to notice who it was that shop owner shot before he killed himself,” Johann asked, while he placed his hamburger and fries on the table in front of him.

  “Yeah. Wasn't that the homeless guy we saw on the corner by the church,” replied Robert.

  “Sure was.”

  “Quite the coincidence, don't ya think?”

  “Coincidence, my ass. First, he gets into an argument with the shop owner. Then he gets shot by the guy. Less than ten minutes after the police leave, a Raven shows up, and the shop owner blows his brains all over the sidewalk. If I were a bettin' man, I'd say we found our conjuror,” Johann said, as he took a bite of his hamburger, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

  “Here, for God sake. Use this,” Robert said as he tossed a napkin to Johann, who took the napkin and wiped his mouth with it. “It does look like maybe we found the conjuror, doesn't it,” Robert said.

  “Yeah. I don't think he was the victim here. We just need to find out his story, and where we can find him,” Johann said.

  “Do you think that thing Father Nelson gave you actually works? Do you think it can do what he said it would,” asked Robert.

  “He gave it to us, Bob, and yeah, I think it works. I also think you should call Johnny, and see if you can find out anything about this talisman,” said Johann, as he took the talisman out of his pocket and handed it to Robert.

  Robert finished his meal and took his phone out of his pocket. He dialed the number for his brother and wiped his mouth with the napkin as the phone rang.

  “Hello,” Johnny said, as Robert put his phone on “speaker” so Johann would be able to hear.

  “Hi, Johnny. Johann and I made it to Mountainview. Quite the mess here, but we found out who the demon was, and a good candidate for who the conjuror-,”

  “Conjuror,” asked Johnny, who interrupted his younger brother, “Sounds like Earl Raum.”

  “You always were very perceptive. But, I called you for a different reason. We met Father Nelson, and he gave us a talisman that he said would help. If I describe it to you, do you think you might be able to tell me something about it?”

  “No need. Father Nelson and I go way back. I know exactly what he gave you. A little round talisman, with an inscription on it of a demon trap. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “He received that from a High Priest in Africa several years ago. It's called the Cimeries Talisman.”

  “Cimeries Talisman? Who, or what, was Cimeries?”

  “Cimeries was a demon who rode a black horse and had rule over Africa. That Talisman was created centuries ago by a tribal high priest to drive the demon from his village. He kept it in his possession as he fought the demon, and finally, he was able to vanquish the devil from his village. It had been handed down from generation to generation ever since. It had been said that at some point in its history, someone duplicated it, so now there may be several of them in existence.”

  “So, this thing really works,” Johann asked.

  “Hi, Johann. Yes, it does,” answered the priest.

  “I think you gave us all the information we need. Thanks for the info,” Johann said.

  “Just one thing,” said Father Tuttle, “When you fight the conjuror, make certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, you caught the right person. The Cimeries Talisman, besides being very powerful, can be unforgiving, as well. If used improperly, it can kill an innocent. If that happens, not only would an innocent life be needlessly taken, but you would run the risk of Earl Raum and the real conjuror finding out. They would go 'underground,' so to speak, and make it even more difficult for you to find them. So, with that in mind, make sure you only use it on the right person, before you use it at all.”

  “Use it? Father Nelson said all we had to do was keep it on our person and my shotgun shells would be effective without having to be blessed with holy water,” Johann said.

  “Quite true. But, if you must engage in hand-to-hand combat with the demon or the conjuror, you may need to touch the talisman to the skin of your opponent,” said Johnny.

  “Father Nelson said something about that,” Robert said.

  The two demon hunters glance at each other, as though they asked each other if they had any more questions.

  “So, we don't need to know anything else,” asked Johann.

  “No, I don't believe so. I believe I gave you all the information you need now,” replied the pontiff.

  “Okay. Thanks for the help, Father Tuttle,” Johann said.

  “My pleasure, Johann. Please; call me Johnny.”

  Robert ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket. The two men cleaned up the trash from their evening meal, and Johann placed it in the garbage can. He walked over to the windows and opened the door to the balcony to allow the crisp evening air into the room. Robert turned on the television set, and the two men sat down to watch the evening news, which was already in progress.

  “…Suicide that, we were told, stemmed from a failed robbery attempt this afternoon. We now go to Belinda Carstone, on the scene in Mountainview. Belinda,” said Simon, the anchorman. The scene changed to Belinda, who was standing near the scene of the suicide. In the background was the store with the plate glass window broken, and the area cordoned off with yellow police tape. Police officers worked in the background, as they continued to conduct their investigation.

  “Thank you, Simon. As you can see behind me, police still on the scene of this incident. A police spokesman told me earlier that a homeless man, who goes only by the
name of Blake, tried to rob the shop owner at gunpoint. I was told the store owner shot the homeless man in self-defense, It was alleged that the homeless man was armed with a pistol,” said Belinda.

  “What a bald-faced lie,” Robert said, as he lurched forward in his chair, “That homeless guy wasn't armed, was he?”

  “Not that I saw. But that doesn't mean he wasn't armed in the store,” Johann replied.

  “The suspect was transported to Mountainview Regional, where he remains in stable condition. About twenty minutes after the incident, the shop owner allegedly committed suicide in his store, with the same shotgun that he used to shoot the suspect,” Belinda said.

  “Very bizarre,” said Simon, “Do the police know what the motive for the suicide might be?”

  “They do not. I decided to stay in town tonight. I had requested to meet with Father Nelson tomorrow, and he agreed. As you may recall, the deacon from Father Nelson's church committed suicide this morning at a local gas station.”

  Johann and Robert glanced at each other. Both of them smiled when they heard the part about Father Nelson.

  “Perfect,” Johann said, as he sat forward in his chair, “It would be in our, and the town's, best interest for us to be at that little conference.”

  “I agree,” said Robert.

  Johann glanced up at the ceiling and stroked his mustache. “I don't feel very comfortable with that bastard right above us.”

  “Me, neither,” said Robert, as he glanced upward at the ceiling.

  “I think we need to confront the son of a bitch.”

  “Do you think that would be wise,” asked Robert, “I mean, if we confront him, it may cause him to dig in deeper. Hide his conjuror even more.”

  “I don't think we -,” said Johann as he glanced down at his lap. He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed a drop of blood fall on his jeans. “What the hell?”

  He reached up and wiped some blood from his nose. He studied his hand, and the crimson fluid covered his knuckles and dripped down toward his wrist. Robert came to his side to offer his assistance. The more Johann wiped his face, the more he would bleed from his nose.

  Everything was turning red. There was blood on his jeans, his shirt, the arm of the chair he was sitting on. There were even little pools of it on the carpet.

  “Johann, did you always get nosebleeds like this,” asked Robert, as he took a box of tissues that was sitting on the top of one of the end tables near the beds, and handed it to Johann.

  “No, I never had a problem with this before. I don't know what caused this.” Johann said as he furiously wiped the blood from his face. He rolled several tissues together, to make a big blotter. He put his head back and placed the rolled tissues into his nostril to try and stop the bleeding.

  He continued to put roll after roll of tissue in his nostril. Each one he removed was soaked with blood. He found himself at the end of the tissue box and worried that the blood would continue indefinitely.

  After what seemed like an eternity to the two men, the rolled tissues began to come out of his nostril with less and less blood.

  “Let me call an ambulance,” Robert said, almost pleading.

  “No,” Johann answered, “That won't be necessary. I think the bleeding's beginning to stop.”

  He removed the tissue from his nostril and replaced it with a fresh one. The one he removed was not nearly as blood-soaked as the previous ones were. He began to feel relief about this, and his nerves began to calm a little.

  Robert went into the bathroom and came back a few minutes later with washcloths dampened with cold water.

  “We need to clean this up,” he said, as he started to clean the blood from the arm of the chair. Johann glanced up at the ceiling.

  “Seems I had to do this a lot, lately,” Johann said, as he referred to an incident that happened to him while the two men were in Bucktown a few days ago.

  “That bastard upstairs did this. I know he did,” said Johann. Robert glanced upward at the ceiling, then back to Johann.

  “I concur,” Robert said.

  “You wanna fight me,” Johann yelled as he got to his feet, “Come on down here, you son of a bitch.” He walked over and stood on one of the chairs near the coffee table. He Reached up and pounded on the ceiling with his fist. The Styrofoam ceiling panel he punched shattered and fell to the floor.

  “Come on down, you coward,” Johann yelled.

  The lights in the room flickered, and, after a moment, went out altogether. The room became dark and eerily silent. The breeze that had been coming in through the opened windows and rusted the closed curtains stopped. The curtains became still. Johann stopped his attack on the ceiling, and the two men gazed at each other, confused. As they stood there a moment, disoriented, the breeze again started, and the lights came back on.

  “Now, see? I welcome you and allow you to stay in my home, and you do this to repay my hospitality, blood all over the nice clean carpet, and destruction to my property,” a voice came from near the door. The sudden sound caught both Johann and Robert by surprise, and they turned to face the man who spoke to them. A very serene Mister Earl stood near the door. He stood with one hand grasped by the other, in front of him, just below waist level.

  “You son of a bitch,” Johann said, as he jumped off the chair and rushed over to where Earl stood. Johann stood toe to toe with the demon for a moment and glared into his dark, soul-less eyes. “We know what caused the problems in this town,” he said, as he poked his finger into the demon's chest.

  “Oh, spare me the dramatics, priest. What do you think you can do about it, anyway? You can't get rid of me. My conjuror would simply re-conjure me, and I would then be free to continue where I left off.” As he glared at Johann, Earl's eyes became two black discs. “You don't think it would be like dealing with a simple demon, do you, priest? Who did you fucking think I was? A piddly little elf or something? Allow me to introduce you to the Earl of Hell. You may as well be doing battle with Satan himself if you take me on.”

  “Yeah? Well, allow me to introduce you to someone who can kick your ass. Father Gunter, Demon Hunter,” said Johann.

  “Really,” Mr. Earl said, a smug smile on his face, He glanced upward and whispered, “I think you better call for reinforcements.” He glared at Johann, then turned to leave.

  “Now, if you would please excuse me, I must return to my abode,” Earl said, as he turned one last time to smirk at Johann, “My Theresa awaits me.”

  The demon's reference to Johann's lost sister was more than the demon hunter was prepared to take. The anger instantly raged inside him, and without being conscious of what he was doing, he grabbed Earl by the lapels of his suit jacket. He pulled the demon toward himself, his face distorted with hatred.

  “You bastard,” Johann yelled, “Say goodbye to this world, you slime. Time for you to go back to hell with your head up your ass.” In one swift motion, Johann pulled the demon toward him and threw him onto the floor.

  As the demon turned to face him, Johann raised one of his legs. He aimed the heel of his boot straight at Mr. Earl's face. As Johann's foot came down hard, the demon vanished, and Johann's foot struck the concrete floor with his full force.

  The shock of the impact sent tremors up Johann's leg and spine. The pain shot up from his heel, though his ankle, and all the way up to his lower back. The demon hunter yelled out in pain.

  “Agh. Son of a -,” Johann said, as he grabbed his hip. The pain was so severe; tears welled up in his eyes. His face contorted into an almost grotesque configuration, as he did his best to limp over to the first available place to sit down.

  Johann sat on the bed, his face still red from both rage, and anguish. He bent over and rubbed this leg to try and ease the pain. Robert took the ice bucket and went to the ice machine in the hallway. He returned a few minutes later with a bucket full of ice.

  He grabbed two small towels and placed as much ice as possible in each one. Then, he rolled them up and handed them t
o Johann, who placed one on his ankle, and one on his lower back. Then, he lay down on the bed and gazed up at the ceiling.

  “Johann. Don't let him get to you. Stay focused, man,” Robert said, “I certainly can't kill this thing by myself, so I need you in tip-top shape.”

  “The son of a bitch got to me,” Johann said, as he winced in pain, “I gotta learn to control myself. Can't let that happen again.”

  “No shit.”

  “Oh, damn, that hurts. Don't think I broke anything, though.”

  “We were lucky. This time.”

  “At least, now we know for sure the identity of our enemy. We don't need to investigate any further. We can just skip to the part where we banish this thing and help the townspeople here,” Johann said, as he slowly sat back up on the bed.

  “Whew. I think the pain started to subside a little,” Johann said, as he wiped a tear from his eye, “Okay. Here's the plan. That reporter Belinda said she was supposed to meet with Father Nelson tomorrow, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Okay. We'll make sure to be part of that little get-together. Being a reporter, she most likely knows the room number for this Blake guy. We'll go there, posed as 'friends' of his from out of town and pay him a visit.”

  “And, do what?”

  “We'll just 'persuade' him to conjure the demon back to hell.”

  “I don't think it'll be that easy.”

  “I can be very persuasive when I need to be. The only alternative would be to kill the little bastard.”

  Robert looked at his friend. He barely believed what he had just heard. Nervous, he adjusted his glasses on his face.

  “Johann. That would be murder,” Robert said.

  “No. Not 'murder'… war. You must think of it that way, Bob.”

  Robert contemplated this for a moment and looked around the room nervously.

  “I guess,” Robert said, “But, still…we can't just march in there and kill the guy. I mean, I don't think the police would understand about fighting a demon.”