by Mark Lukens
He reached up to the boxes and brushed his fingers across the wood surface in between the strands of wire. The surface of the box was glossy like some kind of polyurethane had been applied over the black paint; but he could still feel the symbols etched into the wood.
He wondered what was inside all of these boxes. He was about to pull one down when Paul’s voice froze him.
“Help you with something?” Paul asked.
Danny whirled around to the door, his heart stopping for a moment at the sound of Paul’s voice.
“Don’t touch those,” Paul said, staring at him. He stood in the doorway and he had his sweatshirt back on now. Both his shirt and pants were stained with sweat from his workout, and he had a small towel draped over one shoulder. Obviously he was done working out and Danny hadn’t even realized the pounding from down in the garage had stopped.
“I was just … looking around …”
Paul nodded like he could see that.
“I saw your workshop in the garage, and I saw the pieces of wood on that countertop. Did you make these boxes?”
Paul nodded again. “Yes.”
Danny stared at Paul, and he realized now that he could be an intimidating man. But in that moment he made the choice that he wasn’t going to be intimidated anymore, not by his father, not by kids at school, not by anyone.
“What are the boxes for? What’s in them?”
“It’s a little difficult to explain. It might be a little hard to believe.”
“Try me.”
Paul didn’t answer.
Danny glanced back into the closet for a moment, and then looked back at Paul. He had expected Paul to be angry for catching him snooping around in his office, but he didn’t seem to be mad, so Danny pressed on with his questions.
“What about these clothes? And that duffel bag? And those weapons in the back of the closet? What’s all of that stuff for?”
“It’s for my work, but there’s a lot to explain—a lot that we need to talk about.”
“What exactly is it that you do for a living?” Danny asked his father, looking him right in the eye.
“I’ll tell you. I want to tell you everything very soon. I promise. But first I need a shower and we need to go to the store and get some food for you.”
Danny just nodded in agreement.
“I see you didn’t like the choice for breakfast,” Paul said like he was trying to change the subject.
“I wasn’t hungry,” Danny lied.
“How does a slice of pizza for lunch sound? I know a good place down the street that we could stop at before we go to the store.”
That sounded good to Danny. But what he wanted even more than food right now were the answers that Paul promised he would give.
CHAP†ER †WEN†Y-ONE
After Paul was done with his shower and dressed in his usual long-sleeved and dark attire, he took Danny to Al’s Pizza and Subs. It was lunch time, but it wasn’t too crowded inside yet.
They split a pepperoni pizza and a small salad. Paul ate most of the salad and Danny ate most of the pizza. Cassie, Al and Sue’s daughter, waited on them and Paul caught Danny staring at her. He tried to keep his smile to himself.
After they were finished eating, Paul drove to the supermarket in his rumbling Bronco. They loaded up on frozen dinners and junk food. This wasn’t Paul’s idea of a healthy diet, but after what Danny had been through, he wasn’t going to harp on his nutritional choices just yet. Danny was young; his body could still recover from the poisons in these processed foods.
After the supermarket, they stopped at a department store and bought a flat-screen TV for Danny’s bedroom. And Paul had already scheduled the cable installation for the next morning as promised.
They drove back home and put the groceries away and set the TV up in Danny’s room. They made some dinner: frozen fish sticks and tater tots for Danny and some leftovers for Paul.
After dinner was over and the dishes were washed and put away, they sat down at the small kitchen table. Danny had a cold can of Coke in front of him, and Paul poured himself a small shot of vodka.
This wasn’t going to be easy for Paul and the alcohol would help him relax a little. Paul was about to talk about things he hadn’t talked about in years, things he hadn’t even thought about in years. He was going to have the same conversation that his father had had with him almost twenty years ago.
Paul remembered that conversation. They hadn’t had it at a kitchen table—it had been at St. Mathews Church, in the courtyard. His father had brought him to the place where he worked. Of course Paul had already known somewhat of what his father did for the church; it was no secret in his family that he had come from a long line of Investigators, some of whom were endowed with certain Gifts of the Spirit.
At first Paul had resisted the calling. He didn’t want that kind of life for himself—his father’s life. He had rebelled and ran away. It broke his mother’s heart and she died a few years later. But Paul’s father, Saul Lambert, had carried on with his calling.
Paul had met Rachael and they had fallen in love. They had planned to have a family. But when Paul saw the signs of evil in the world, when he saw glimpses of what hid in the darkness, moving like shadows, he began to feel the calling pulling at him. And then when he got his own Gifts of the Spirit—visions and the ability to sense demons—he knew he couldn’t turn his back on God’s gifts.
He tried to convince Rachael to come with him on his journey, but she was convinced that Paul was losing his mind. After their children were born, she was even more resistant.
Paul had to walk away from his family. He had no choice. But he’d never stopped loving them and he wanted Danny to know that. Sometimes God forced choices on people, hard choices, but people were always free to choose. Paul wanted both worlds, but he couldn’t have them both. He had made his choice.
Paul downed his shot of vodka. He was ready to tell Danny everything.
†
Danny watched Paul, this stranger who was his father, this stranger who he didn’t know much about who sat on the other side of the table. Danny’s mind slipped back to when he was a young kid, to his memories of his father. They were pleasant memories. He remembered a strong and happy father. He didn’t remember too many arguments between his mother and father, but even when there were arguments, it was his mother who had done the yelling—not his father. Even though his father was a strong man, he had always been a gentle man. Of course, Danny’s memories were from over ten years ago—the memories of a seven, eight, and nine year old boy.
“I investigate instances for the Church,” Paul finally said.
“Yeah, Grandma Gail told me. Paranormal stuff.”
“Yes, sort of. Hauntings and possessions.”
“Possessions? You mean like exorcisms?”
Paul nodded.
“You’re an exorcist?”
“In a way.”
“So, you’re a priest.”
“No.”
“I thought only priests could perform exorcisms.”
“An exorcism is a Catholic ritual, but anyone can perform an exorcism. But you have to remember that no person casts a demon from a person’s body—only God can do that. The exorcist, whether he’s a priest, pastor, or an average person, is only a tool. But whoever performs the exorcism, their faith in God must be extraordinarily strong.”
Danny pictured Paul standing over someone strapped down to a chair, commanding the demon to leave their body.
“You also said hauntings,” Danny reminded him.
“A haunting, whether it is a place or an object, is just an item that a demon has attached itself to.”
Danny thought about that for a moment.
“What do you think of when you think of a ghost?” Paul asked.
“I don’t know.” Danny shrugged. “A dead person whose spirit hasn’t travelled to the other side yet.”
“Possible,” Paul said. “But doubtful. Not in my experience at lea
st. Demons can take many forms. They can take the form of ghosts. They can take the forms of loved ones and try to pass themselves off as these loved ones.”
Danny felt a chill run through his body as a flash of last night’s terrible dream played in his mind. He pushed the thought away.
“I’ve never really believed in ghosts and demons,” Danny said.
“What about God?”
“I’m not sure. I guess He could be real.”
“Many people your age have doubts, Danny. It’s natural. We’re all given free will by God, and we’re allowed to choose what we believe.”
Danny was silent for a moment. He took a sip of his Coke. He was suddenly very thirsty.
“How did you get this job, investigating haunted houses and possessed people?” Danny asked.
“My father was an Investigator. And his father before him. And his father before him. Going back centuries.”
A sudden connection clicked in Danny’s mind. “Wait a minute. You want me to follow in your footsteps? Become an Investigator like you? Is that why you’re telling me all this?”
“I didn’t say that,” Paul said in a gentle voice. “I would like to see you do this, but only if it’s your true calling. Remember, you always have a choice. God always gives you a choice.”
Danny was quiet for a moment, afraid he had offended Paul somehow. “I don’t know anything about this kind of stuff,” he finally said.
“There’s a lot of training involved.”
“So, what’s in those boxes upstairs that you make? The ones wrapped in metal wire.”
Paul sighed. “It’s actually iron wire. It has to be iron.”
“Why?”
“I know this may be a little difficult to believe. But one of my Gifts of the Spirit is summoning demons out of people who are possessed and forcing them into these small wooden boxes.”
Danny just stared at Paul for a moment. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then he stopped, thinking it over for a few seconds. “Are you … you’re trying to tell me that there are demons in those boxes?”
“There’s a piece of ancient parchment inside each box. Once I learn the demon’s true name, the one given to it by God, then I can write it down and force the demon inside the box.”
Danny felt a peculiar tilting of his world, like everything he’d thought that was real just became questionable, and everything he thought was a myth had become real. Here was his father, a person he hadn’t seen in almost three years, telling him that he was an Investigator for the Church and that he ran around casting out demons from people and from places and then stored them in little black boxes in the top of his office closet.
He expected him to believe this?
Danny stood up and paced around the kitchen. He needed to move around. He felt like he might be sitting in the house of someone who might not be totally sane.
He thought about the restraining order that his mother had had on Paul. And now he wondered if Paul might be crazy, if his mom had known that Paul could be crazy and possibly even dangerous.
“I know it’s a lot to handle all at once, Danny. But there are Gifts of the Spirit that have been running through our family for centuries, passed down from father to son. I told you about my Gift of summoning demons. And I’ve had the Gift of visions for years. You probably already have Gifts that you don’t even recognize. You have to be ready for them if you experience them.”
Danny didn’t respond. He walked over to the sink, suddenly feeling nauseous. He felt like he needed to get out of this house, get away and try to think about all of this.
“You may see visions,” Paul told him. “You have to be ready for them.”
CHAP†ER †WEN†Y-†WO
Danny left the kitchen.
Paul got up and followed Danny into the living room.
Danny went to the front closet and got his jacket from the coat rack.
“Where are you going?” Paul asked. “I didn’t think we were done talking.”
“I’m just going out for a walk.”
“Danny, you have to be careful.”
Paul knew that Danny thought he was crazy right now. He knew all of this was going to be difficult to wrap his mind around. He wanted to tell him that the demons that had killed his mother and sister would still be after him. But he didn’t, because he was afraid of pushing Danny too far away right now. He would need some time to realize these things on his own.
Danny turned to the front door, about to leave, but then he looked back at Paul. “Is it okay if I go for a walk down the street? Think some things over.”
Paul didn’t answer.
“I just need some fresh air. Some time alone. All of this … it’s just a lot to think about.”
Finally, Paul nodded. He didn’t feel good about letting Danny go outside, but he had to let him go. He had warned him to be careful, but maybe he hadn’t warned him enough yet.
†
Danny walked down the sidewalk in the late afternoon light. The sky was overcast, the air humid and chilly, and it felt like it might start drizzling at any moment.
He followed the line of homes squeezed in tight next to each other, some underneath the shade of one hundred year old trees.
After he crossed an intersection, the houses got a little bigger, the lawns a little more spacious, the driveways longer. At the next intersection he saw a large park across the street that was full of ball fields. Some of the ball fields were fenced in. Near one of the baseball fields was a basketball court—just a concrete slab with four basketball nets, two on each side which made two full courts beside each other. Both of them were empty. There were hardly any people at the park, a couple of kids played on a playground set in the distance at the other side of the fields, and their parents were huddled up on benches watching them.
Danny stopped walking and sat down on a park bench that was close to the basketball courts. The basketball courts made him think of Pete and how they used to shoot baskets in his driveway. And that made him think of home. And thinking of home made him think of …
He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back tears.
God, he just wished he was back home again with his mother and his sister, not stuck in this city with a father who might be more than just a little delusional.
What was he supposed to do?
He jumped when something touched his foot. He opened his eyes and looked down at the faded, orange basketball touching one of his sneakers like it had just rolled through the grass towards him. The ball looked old, the orange-peel texture nearly worn down smooth.
“Hey! A little help?”
Danny looked up at the basketball courts twenty yards away and saw a lanky kid his own age standing at the edge of the concrete slab. He wore baggy shorts and an oversized T-shirt that was a little too big for him even though the weather was cold. He had blond hair, large eyes, and a wide and friendly smile. He held his hands up, ready to catch the basketball whenever Danny decided to throw it back to him.
Danny grabbed the ball, stood up and threw it at the kid.
“You wanna shoot some hoops?” the kid asked.
Danny shrugged. “Sure.”
He trotted over to the court, glancing around. He still didn’t see any other kids playing on any of the other fields. Probably inside their warm houses playing video games or watching TV, he thought.
The kid caught the ball and shot a basket from the edge of the court. The ball bounced off the rim.
Danny ran past the kid and caught the bouncing ball.
“I haven’t seen you around here before,” the kid said as Danny shot the ball … and missed.
“Just moved here from Cleveland.”
“Oh Wow. Cleveland. Lebron James.”
“Yeah,” Danny said and smiled.
Danny caught the ball and tossed it to the kid. The kid shot and made it. The ball bounced right back to him, and he passed it back to Danny.
“Name’s Ricky. What’s yo
urs?”
“Danny Lambert.”
“Cool. What brought you to Boston?”
Danny shrugged and shot the ball. He noticed that the sky was darkening quickly, the night rushing in much faster than he had realized.
“Moved in with my dad,” Danny finally answered. His shot missed and he ran to grab the ball before it bounced over to the next court. It felt good to run around, his body already warming up in the chilly air. He could see his breath as he huffed and puffed. He grabbed the ball and turned around and fired a pass back at Ricky who waited in the same spot.
Ricky caught the ball and stared at him, smiling. But his expression seemed strange, his eyes a little darker, a little colder. His smile seemed suddenly fake, a malevolent grin hidden just underneath the surface.
Danny felt a chill run up his spine, his balls crawling.
Something was wrong here.
At first Danny thought this kid was with a pack of friends and they were going to come running at him from the other fields, playing a game of kick-the-shit-out-of-the-new-kid, and then give him some kind of warning to stay off their turf.
But the danger seemed different than that—it felt darker, more dangerous.
And Danny noticed that he couldn’t see the kid’s breath like he could see his own. In fact, it didn’t even look like Ricky was breathing at all.
But he was smiling at him as he held the ball.
“Where’s your mom, Danny?”
Danny felt a pang of fear knife through him. His muscles felt suddenly rubbery and they tingled with energy at the same time, like his body couldn’t decide whether it wanted to run away or collapse in a fetal position on the concrete.
“I need to go,” Danny said. “It’s getting dark,” he added as if he needed some kind of excuse.
“It’s dark where your mother is, Danny,” Ricky told him.
