The Exorcist's Apprentice
Page 7
When the cop had first arrived, he’d walked around their house and then walked around the free-standing garage. Rachael was outside with him (she had told Danny and Lisa to stay inside), and she opened up the garage so he could look around inside. But he didn’t find anyone hiding anywhere.
Now the officer sat in the recliner in the living room, barely seeming to fit his bulk inside the arms of the chair.
“No,” Danny finally answered the officer. “He didn’t say anything to me either time I saw him. He just stared at me and he had this weird smile on his face, like only half of his mouth was smiling.” Danny tried to mimic the smile. “Like this.”
Lisa broke out into a giggle, trying to stifle it with her hands. Rachael gave her a warning look.
Officer Booker smiled at Lisa and then looked at Rachael, turning serious again as he looked at her. “We’ll do a few more drive-bys past your house tonight and tomorrow. And I’ll turn this description in to see if anything pops up. If you see this man again, call us right away. And if you do see him again, and if you are able to, try to get a photo of him with your cell phone or a camera.”
Rachael nodded.
“Until then, just keep your doors and windows locked. Peek out several windows before you go outside. Sounds like this guy might’ve been casing your house, maybe he thought you were all out of the house and tried to see if he could get inside. Trying to find an unlocked door.”
Danny didn’t think the stranger was just some normal, run-of-the-mill burglar, but he didn’t say anything. He had seen the man’s dead eyes and his twisted smile. He could feel it in his soul that this man was evil. And even though he felt safe now inside their locked home in the daylight with the gigantic Officer Booker in their living room, he was sure that later tonight he wouldn’t be able to sleep; he would probably be peeking out of his upstairs bedroom window every few minutes, waiting for a shadowy figure to slowly wander up their gravel driveway, the soles of his brown shoes crunching down the pea rock of their driveway with each step.
Officer Booker stood up and apologized that he couldn’t do more. And then he left.
CHAP†ER FOUR†EEN
Boston, Massachusetts
Paul met Father McFadden at the hospital.
Father McFadden was in his mid-fifties and if he hadn’t been wearing the black clothing and white collar of a priest, he might have looked more like a lawyer or even a corporate executive. He was a little over six foot, almost as tall as Paul, but slighter in build; not skinny, more like the athletic build of a long-distance runner or bicyclist. He had dark hair that was beginning to show streaks of gray at his temples which made him look more distinguished than old. He exuded a sense of confidence and quiet authority—like he’d been in a position of power for some time and he’d been born for just that purpose.
Paul shook hands with the father. They gave each other a grim smile, and Paul stared at Father McFadden with haunted, dark eyes.
“How is he?” Paul asked about Father James.
“He’s a little better. He’s still a little uncertain about what happened that night at the Whittier house. He still doesn’t want to believe all of the … the details.”
Paul nodded.
They got a quick cup of coffee in the cafeteria and sat down at a corner table far away from the other people.
“I should’ve seen the signs as soon as I got to the Whittier house,” Paul said after sipping his black coffee. “I should’ve reacted faster.”
“It’s not your fault. Luckily you were there or it could’ve been much worse.”
Paul nodded, thinking of how Father James hadn’t wanted him there in the first place.
“I didn’t save Father James,” Paul said. “I didn’t drive the demons out of his body and into the box.”
Father McFadden watched Paul, not moving a muscle.
“The demon … those demons inside of him … they left on their own.”
“They don’t do that,” Father McFadden said.
“I know. But this time they did, like they suddenly had somewhere else to go.”
“Maybe they went back into Julia.”
Paul shrugged. “Maybe.”
Father McFadden finally moved, taking a sip of his coffee.
“When I got to the house, Richard Whittier, Julia’s father, he seemed normal at first.”
“But now you believe he was possessed the whole time.”
Paul nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you think he was perfectly possessed?” Father McFadden asked.
Paul didn’t answer right away. The father was referring to a phenomenon where a person was so deeply possessed by a demon or evil spirit that they didn’t even know they were possessed. It was a rare condition—Paul had never seen it in person before—but there had been reports of it throughout history.
“I don’t believe he was perfectly possessed,” Paul finally answered. “But I do believe he was possessed before I got there. I believe he and his daughter were voluntarily possessed for quite some time, and Richard was just hiding his possession and waiting for the right time to attack.”
“But why go through all that? Was it just to get a priest there to perform an exorcism? Just a random attack on the Church? On humans?”
“I don’t know,” Paul said shaking his head. “Maybe. But one thing that bothers me is what the demons said to me when they were still inside of Father James, right before they let him go.”
Father McFadden waited patiently.
“They told me that they would take everything away from me. Everything that I loved. And then the demon taunted me, asking me if I wanted to know its name. It told me that it was the Terror By Night.”
“But the demon never told you its real name.”
“No.”
“I will pray for you. And you should pray, too. Your faith must be strong right now.”
“I’m still worried about my ex-wife and my children,” Paul told the priest. “I can’t help but think that the demon was threatening my family. My children. I called Rachael, tried to warn her, but she doesn’t believe me.” He hesitated for a moment. “I may have to go there soon.”
“Of course,” Father McFadden answered. “I understand.”
†
Paul and Father McFadden rode in the elevator together up to Father James’s room on the fifth floor. The old priest was the only patient in the room. He looked even older now than when Paul had seen him at Richard and Julia’s house. He looked thinner, his body somehow longer underneath the sheets. His face seemed longer, too. His jowls hung down more. The bags under his eyes were larger and darker. The deep creases of his wrinkles were more pronounced underneath the bright and harsh lighting of the hospital room.
A TV was turned on in the corner of the room high up on the wall, but the sound was turned down low.
“Father James,” Father McFadden said as he entered the room. He walked over to his bedside and took the man’s large hand in his own. Father James’s other arm was hooked up to an IV.
Paul felt a little uncomfortable. He knew the old priest didn’t like him to begin with, and he probably liked him much less after what had happened in the Whittier house. Paul moved over to the window in the room and looked out at the streets of Boston five stories below them.
“How are you feeling?” Father McFadden asked as he pulled up a chair next to the bed. Normally the question might have sounded disingenuous, but from Father McFadden it sounded heart-felt. If he had the inclination, he could be a hell of a convincing politician. He even looked the part.
“Better,” Father James answered and even managed a weak smile. “They’re going to release me tomorrow morning. They say I don’t have any serious injuries, just some bumps and bruises. Some minor smoke inhalation.”
“I’ll make sure there’s a car here for you in the morning,” Father McFadden said and patted the man’s liver-spotted hand lightly.
Father James smiled and closed his eyes. “I have so much to d
o …”
“You don’t worry about any of that. Take as much time as you need to rest and recover.”
Father James smiled and nodded, his eyes still closed, his breathing deeper and even.
Father McFadden glanced at Paul who still stared out the window, and then he got to his feet as silently as a cat burglar. He motioned with his head that they should leave.
Paul was ready to go.
As they started to walk out, Father James’s voice stopped them.
“Paul,” he croaked. His blazing blue eyes were open again and staring right at Paul. “Might I have a word with you?”
Paul glanced at Father McFadden who nodded.
“I’ll just step out into the hall for a moment,” Father McFadden said.
After Father McFadden left the room, Paul came back around the foot of Father James’s bed and sat down in the same wooden, lavender-cushioned hospital chair that Father McFadden had been sitting in. The chair looked like hotel furniture to Paul, sturdy but too ugly to steal.
Father James stared at Paul.
“How much do you remember?” Paul asked.
“Some. Not everything. Father McFadden told me that I was possessed by a demon.”
Paul nodded. “The demon jumped from Julia into you when the lights went out in her bedroom.”
Father James nodded and his eyes looked distant for a moment like he was suddenly back there in the Whittier house again. “I should have stayed outside the circle of salt like you told me to.”
Paul nodded, but didn’t comment. He agreed that maybe the priest should’ve heeded his advice that night, but he also wondered if it would have done any good. It turned out that they had been dealing with more demons than they had anticipated. They had been dealing with stronger demons than they had been ready for. They had been dealing with two people who were more deeply possessed, and willingly possessed, than any of them had imagined.
“I’d always been taught that a demon couldn’t possess a person unless they allowed it somehow, unless they opened that door, like inviting a vampire inside,” Father James said. “I’d always believed that as long as one’s faith was strong, they were safe from possession.”
Paul nodded, but he’d seen possession of the innocents before. He’d read about it many times; there were many accounts of it throughout history. He’d seen such terrible things before, but this moment wasn’t the time to talk about those things. This was the time to listen to Father James and try to comfort him.
The old priest shook his head and closed his eyes. Then he opened them again like he didn’t want to be in the dark, even if it was behind his own eyelids. His blue eyes, normally fierce, were now watery and vulnerable.
“I’m ashamed I was so weak,” the priest whispered. “So egotistical. Perhaps those sins, those weaknesses, they allowed the door to be opened to the evil spirits.”
“Maybe,” was all Paul said.
Father James was quiet for a long moment, just staring up at the ceiling through half-closed eyes. Paul thought the priest might be falling asleep and he wondered if he was sedated.
Paul got up to leave, and Father James’s hand shot out and grabbed his forearm, his large hand gripped Paul’s arm with surprising strength.
Father James stared up at Paul from the bed. “I’m frightened, Paul. So … so scared. I saw things while I was …” he let his words trail off like he couldn’t even say the word “possessed” now.
Paul didn’t say a word.
The priest licked his lips like his mouth had suddenly gone dry from fear. “If that thing got inside of me that night, then it can do it again. It can find me wherever I go and get back inside. I don’t have anywhere to hide. I’m afraid my faith is not strong enough anymore.”
“It will have to be, Father.”
“No … you don’t understand. Something terrible is coming. I saw flashes of … of terrible things. They’ve been waiting and waiting, patient, and now they’re ready to attack.”
Paul gently pulled his arm out of Father James’s grasp.
“We’ll be okay,” Paul told him, but he didn’t feel that way. He could still hear the demon’s words uttered through Father James’s throat: I am the Terror By Night, and I am going to take everything away from you, Paul. Everything that you love.
“No, we won’t,” Father James snapped at Paul, his eyes watering now. “We won’t be okay. You have to prepare. You have to be ready.”
Paul nodded. “Do you want me to send Father McFadden back in here?”
“No,” Father James said and plopped his head back down on the pillow. He looked miserable, like a hunted man with nowhere to hide.
Paul left the hospital room and met up with Father McFadden in the hall. He told Father McFadden everything that Father James had told him. He didn’t feel like he was betraying the old priest’s confidence, because Father James hadn’t asked Paul not to tell Father McFadden anything. Maybe he was too ashamed to look Father McFadden in the eyes right now and admit that his faith hadn’t been strong enough that night.
†
Paul drove home as night fell on Boston. He stopped at a take-out deli and ordered a roasted turkey sandwich to go. He took the meal home and sat down at his small table in his immaculate and silent kitchen.
He chewed his food slowly and then stopped suddenly. His body was frozen for a moment. His mouth fell open and the half-chewed food spilled out of his mouth. His hands trembled on the table as he stared across the kitchen.
But he didn’t see his kitchen anymore.
He was somewhere else now.
He saw a vision.
Water. Screams. Darkness. Death.
Oh Dear God!!
Paul was on his feet without remembering that he stood up. He looked down at the table now that the vision was gone. He saw the chunk of food he’d been chewing down on the table, just a piece of mushy pulp now. He didn’t even remember spitting it out.
It felt like he couldn’t breathe for a moment.
And now he felt an incredible and sudden loss. His body ached, his heart ached, his soul ached.
No Oh God no Please God no …
Paul rushed to the kitchen counter and grabbed his cell phone. He flipped quickly to Rachael’s name and tapped the screen with his trembling finger. He held the phone up to his ear and listened to the ringing.
At least it was ringing.
Then he heard a recorded message.
“The number you are trying to reach is not in service at this moment …”
Paul tried Rachael’s home phone. He dialed the number and listened to the ringing. It rang five times and then went to a recorded message.
“Hi, Rachael,” Paul said after the beep. “It’s … uh, it’s me, Paul. I was just calling to make sure everything’s okay.” How could he tell her that he was having visions that some kind of harm was going to come to her and the kids? But he couldn’t say that. If he did, she would never call him back.
“Just please call me when you get this.”
Paul hung up the phone and paced around the kitchen. He looked back at his plate of food on the table, but the thought of eating turned his stomach right now.
Oh God, what should I do?
He wondered if he should call the airlines and reserve a seat for tomorrow or the next night.
Yeah, maybe he should do that.
A surprise visit to see his kids.
Of course Rachael would be furious with him. But he would have to deal with that when the time came. At least he would be there in the same city with them in case they needed him.
He grabbed his small address book out of the drawer in the kitchen and flipped it open to the letter “A” for airlines. He had flown so much on the same airline for the last ten years that he should have this phone number memorized. But he looked the number up and dialed it into his phone.
Moments later he had a reservation for tomorrow night. It was the soonest reservation he could make on such short notice.
CHAP†ER FIF†EEN
Cleveland, Ohio
Danny sat in the back of the police vehicle with the back door open; his legs were sticking out, his feet on the running board, his legs bunched up in front of him, his torso bent over. A wool blanket was wrapped around his shoulders over his drenched clothes. He was wet. He was freezing. He was in shock.
Danny stared at the dark lake underneath the evening sky. The last traces of sunlight were a gory red line on the western horizon. A line of cop cars and an ambulance were parked along the side of the road up and down the guardrail, except for the area where his mom’s car had crashed through.
A tow truck was backed down onto the embankment that led down to the water’s edge, ready to pull his mom’s car out of the water.
The ambulance had just gotten there five minutes ago. Two paramedics rushed towards Danny who sat very still in the back of the police car. One of the paramedics shined a light into Danny’s eyes and took some vital signs. They wanted to take Danny to the hospital, but a cop instructed them to wait until he asked Danny some questions.
Two divers were down in the water looking for Danny’s mother and sister who were still inside the car.
His mom and his sister were dead. Danny already knew that. They’d been down there underneath the murky water way too long now. It wasn’t a rescue mission anymore. Now it was just a retrieval mission.
Danny watched all of this with a strange detachment, like he was watching some action movie, a film where the hero might rescue the victims in the nick of time. It didn’t even feel like his life right now. He was still in shock and he shivered uncontrollably.
Officer Booker approached Danny as the divers dipped back down below the surface of the water. He could see their lights rippling underneath the water. But he couldn’t see his mom’s car underneath the dark water. The cops had set up spotlights on the bank, shining light down to the marshy water’s edge of the large lake. All of the cop cars had their red and blue flashing lights on and the lights gave the whole scene an odd strobe-light like effect.