by Mark Tilbury
Tweezer clamped his mouth shut and focused all his attention on his dripping nose.
‘The girl’s not a witch. She needs purging, nothing more than that.’
‘She’s dangerous, Father.’
Ebb ignored him. ‘But you’re a different kettle of mackerel, aren’t you?’
‘I didn’t do—’
Ebb slapped the table. ‘Save your tongue. If you tell me one more time that the girl lured you to the bedroom, I shall render your mouth incapable of speech. Is that clear to your ears?’
Tweezer nodded. ‘Yes, Father.’
‘You are supposed to be my right-hand man. What do you suppose that means?’
‘I carry out your instructions, Father. I help you to keep order.’
‘What else?’
‘I serve the Lord?’
Ebb fought an impulse to bang Tweezer’s head on the table. ‘You’re meant to set an example to the group. Do you think attempting to rape an uninitiated member is setting a good example?’
‘No, Father.’
‘I trusted you.’
‘You can still trust me, Father.’
Ebb shook his head. ‘Not anymore. You have proven yourself to be weak. Weak and open to attack. I fear Satan has attached himself to you.’
‘No, Father. No, he’s—’
Ebb held up a hand. ‘Stop babbling. The weak always deny the truth, even when it’s perched on their shoulders like a parrot.’
‘Satan’s inside the girl, Father.’
Ebb crossed his arms. ‘I truly believed that we’d purged all traces of Satan from you when we tied you to a tractor and hauled your sinful body back and forth across the North Field during your inauguration.’
‘You did, Father.’
‘I remember nursing you back to health and being certain that there was no trace of that weasel left inside you.’
‘There wasn’t, Father. I swear.’
‘Bled from every pore into God’s sweet earth. But I still see him standing before me, large as life and twice as brazen.’
‘No, Father.’
Ebb held up a hand. ‘You can no longer be trusted, Brother Tweezer.’
‘I can. I swear on my life.’
Ebb walked over to the Welsh dresser and took a set of keys from a drawer. He selected a large silver key and walked to a door at the far end of the kitchen.
‘What are you doing?’
‘You’re going down the rabbit hole, Brother Tweezer.’
Tweezer gawked at the door with his good eye. ‘Please, Father. There’s no need to put me down there.’
Ebb unlocked the door and opened it wide. ‘You get settled in. I’ve got urgent business to attend to.’
‘Please, Father.’
‘Stop wittering and get down there.’
Tweezer limped past Ebb and peered into the basement. ‘Please, Father. I don’t like being locked in. I get claustrophobic.’
‘Do you want to shame the shovel?’
‘No, Father. It’s just—’
Ebb walked up behind Tweezer and shoved him in the back. Tweezer rolled down the stone steps in a tangle of twisted limbs. His skull hit the concrete floor at the bottom with a sickening thud. He hollered like a baby torn from its mother’s breast. Ebb considered it quite an unseemly racket for a man who boasted gangland murder in his portfolio.
Tweezer crawled a few feet and then collapsed between the neat rows of cannabis plants.
Ebb slammed the door and locked it. Some people proved to be downright babies when the chips were down.
All the king’s horses, and all the king’s men, couldn’t put Humpty together again.
Ebb jumped back at the sound of his mother’s voice. It seemed to be coming from the teapot. For one terrible moment, he thought the thing was sporting a pink tea-cosy. He rubbed his eyes. No cosies. Not even pink ones.
He shuffled out of the kitchen and went back to the barn. He was exhausted. It was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other. The Lord had seen fit to overload his schedule, which was fine by him, just as long as He didn’t expect Ebb to perform miracles when dealing with Satan.
Bubba was still guarding the cross. Good old dependable Bubba. The big guy hadn’t shown one stick of dissent since the night Ebb had cut out his tongue. In fact, Bubba had even shown a level of understanding concerning the need to remove his tongue after witnessing Cyril’s execution. As far as Ebb was concerned, Bubba was too good a worker to dispense with, but too much of a liability to leave with the ability to tell tales.
‘Is everything all right, Bubba?’
Bubba nodded. His lips flatlined.
Ebb noticed a strange black aura around the big guy. Like a shadow with fuzzy edges. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’
Bubba shuffled and grunted.
Ebb stared in disbelief as the aura broke ranks with Bubba’s body and hovered in front of the cross.
‘Are you okay, Father?’ Sister Alice asked.
Ebb looked at her. There was a nasty buzzing noise in the back of his head, reminiscent of the time one of his ‘uncles’ had hit him with a shovel when he was a child.
Sister Alice broke ranks and walked towards him. ‘Father?’
Ebb closed his eyes. The ground swayed beneath his feet.
Sister Alice reached out and took his arm. ‘You look… tired, Father.’
Ebb tried to smile. Tried to reassure her. He liked Sister Alice. She would be spared when the bunnies burned. ‘I am tired, Sister.’
‘Would you like to rest, Father?’
Ebb tried to open his eyes, but the lids were too heavy. It was as if someone had placed pennies on them after death. ‘There’s much work to do, Sister.’
‘That’s why you need to rest, Father. You need to be strong.’
Ebb ground his teeth as the buzzing in his head escalated. ‘Satan is among us now. I can smell his foul breath on the wind.’
‘We shall fight him, Father,’ Sister Alice promised.
Ebb forced his eyes open. Satan was blocking his thoughts. ‘Be careful.’
‘We shall be vigilant, Father.’
Ebb’s eyes rolled back in his head. ‘It’s time to put the bunnies to bed.’
‘The bunnies?’
Ebb fell to the floor. He twitched and jerked like a man in the midst of an exorcism.
Chapter twenty-two
Ben watched the group fuss around their leader. He turned his head towards Bubba. ‘Please help me.’
Bubba stared ahead, silent and still as a tombstone.
Sister Alice took charge of the situation. ‘Get back and let the Father breathe.’
‘What’s up with him?’ Sister Dixie asked.
Sister Alice regarded her impatiently. ‘He’s obviously having an epileptic fit.’
Dixie studied Ebb for a few moments. ‘A fit? He looks more like someone’s plugged him into the mains.’
Alice knelt beside Ebb. ‘Don’t be so disrespectful.’
‘I’m not being disrespectful. You’re just too sensitive.’
Alice ignored her. She grabbed Ebb’s arms and pinned them down. ‘It’s okay, Father. It’s okay.’
Ben pleaded with Bubba again. ‘Please get me down from here.’
Bubba looked at him. He mouthed something unintelligible.
‘He’s going to kill me.’
Bubba shook his head. He reached out and touched Ben’s shoulder. The gesture spoke louder than any words.
‘Will you help me?’
Bubba took his hand away.
‘Why can’t you talk?’
Bubba didn’t answer.
‘Sorry. Dumb question. Can you sign? I can do a bit.’
Bubba stared ahead.
Ebb ceased thrashing about on the floor.
Alice turned to Emily. ‘Fetch the Father some water.’
Emily scurried from the barn, her bare feet kicking up tiny puffs of dust.
Ebb peered up at Sister Alice. ‘Where’s t
he shovel?’
Sister Alice wiped his forehead with a white lace handkerchief. ‘Shovel? What shovel, Father?’
Ebb pushed her hand away. ‘Who are you? Declare yourself.’
‘I’m Sister Alice, Father. You had a – turn.’
Ebb sat up and looked about him. ‘I was attacked.’
Sister Alice moved away from Ebb. ‘Attacked, Father?’
‘By Satan himself.’
For the next five minutes, Ben watched the group fuss around Ebb, hanging onto his every word like medieval servants in the presence of a great messiah. Ben wouldn’t have been too surprised if they’d all fallen to their knees and fought over the exclusive right to kiss his feet.
Ebb allowed Dixie and Alice to help him to his feet. He dusted himself down and tightened the black sash securing his robe. ‘Get back into line. We need to drive Satan out. The sooner we get to grips with this, the better it will be for everyone.’
As the group reassembled behind him, Ebb pulled the hatpin from his pocket and walked over to the cross. ‘Benjamin?’
Ben looked away.
Ebb turned back to the group. ‘Satan scurries around inside Benjamin like a cornered rat. But let me tell you, he cannot escape the judgement of God.’
‘Satan isn’t inside me,’ Ben shouted.
Ebb examined the pin. ‘Satan is inside all sinners, Benjamin. And you are a sinner.’
‘I’m not,’ Ben protested.
‘The first step towards salvation is admitting your guilt, Benjamin.’
‘How the fuck can I admit to something when I don’t even know what it is?’
Ebb waved a hand. ‘Blah, blah, blah. I expect nothing better than puerile denial and profanity from you. Let me help you. You have many things to choose from. Let’s start with gluttony.’
Ben stared at the hatpin. ‘Gluttony?’
‘Are you guilty of the sin of gluttony?’
Ben shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’
Ebb looked him up and down. ‘Judging by the look of you, probably not. You look like a bag of bones after the butcher’s dog has finished with them.’
Ben’s mind refused point blank to think. He watched Ebb wave the hatpin in the air like someone attempting to cast spells.
Ebb held the pin up and placed his other hand on his chest. ‘I admit to being guilty of the sin of gluttony once. I, too, have sinned. But let me tell you, as God is my witness, I opened my heart to Jesus. The Lord Jesus Christ brought me into the light.’
‘Praise Jesus,’ Sister Alice shouted.
Ebb turned to face the group. ‘What was your sin, Sister Dixie?’
‘Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I have committed the sin of lust.’
‘Are you now cured of the sin of lust?’
Dixie bowed her head. ‘Yes, Father.’
Ebb looked at Sister Emily. ‘And you, child?’
‘Forgive me, Father, for I am guilty of the sin of sloth.’
‘How so, sister?’
Emily stared straight ahead with those expressionless eyes. ‘I was lazy of mind, Father. I did not stand up for the things I believed in. I allowed myself to be led along a path which was not of my own choosing.’
‘Are you now cured of the sin of sloth, Sister Emily?’
Emily nodded. ‘Yes, Father.’
Ebb addressed Alice next. ‘Sister?’
‘Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I have committed the sin of avarice. I longed for the attainment of wealth and jewels and material possessions.’
‘Are you now cured of the sin of avarice?’
Alice bowed as if to a king. ‘Yes, Father.’
Ebb turned around and addressed Bubba. ‘Brother Bubba was guilty of the sin of pride, weren’t you, my friend?’
Bubba nodded his head.
‘Brother Bubba is now cured of his sin, aren’t you, Brother?’
Bubba nodded, eyes staring straight ahead.
Ebb looked at Ben. ‘Brother Tweezer was guilty of the sin of wrath. Brother Marcus, sloth. Lazy as a leech in a blood bank, that one. Brother Gerald carried the sin of envy. Do you see where we’re going with this, Benjamin?’
Up shit creek without a teaspoon, Ben thought.
Ebb pursed his lips. ‘First thing you need to do is fess up, as our colourful American cousins might say.’
Ben looked from Ebb to the hatpin. He was willing to “fess up” to anything right now. Anything to make this lunatic go away. But his mind refused to help him out.
Ebb took a deep breath. ‘Gluttony, sloth, envy, avarice, pride, wrath or lust? Take your pick, Benjamin.’
‘I am guilty of the sin of sloth, Father.’
‘A lazy spirit?’
Ben agreed.
‘Guilty of picking fruit from another man’s tree?’
‘Yes, Father.’
‘Bathing in the sweat of his labour?’
‘Yes, Father.’
‘Climbing on the back of the weary traveller?’
Ben struggled for breath. ‘Yes, Father.’
‘Stealing a poor man’s bread, that he should starve whilst you fill your bloated belly.’
Ben looked at his stomach and almost laughed. ‘Yes, Father.’
Ebb bent over in front of Ben. ‘Then we must purge you of your sin, Benjamin.’
‘Please. I—’
Ebb jabbed the hatpin into the sole of Ben’s right foot. Right in. Tweezer-deep, you might say.
Ben screamed. Molten lava flowed through his foot. His shoulders erupted in a fresh ball of flame.
Ebb stood up. ‘You are guilty of the sin of sloth. May the Lord Jesus Christ forgive you.’
Ben gasped for air and writhed on the cross.
Ebb paced back and forth like an evangelist on a stage. ‘Admission to sin is the first step on the road to redemption. Let it be known that Benjamin has now confessed to the sin of sloth. Now we can exorcise Satan from his body.’
‘Satan’s not in me,’ Ben shouted.
Ebb stopped pacing and held up a hand. ‘Words are just wrappings for poisonous minds, Benjamin.’
‘I’m telling the truth.’
Ebb waved the hatpin in the air. ‘Your truth and my truth hail from different continents, Benjamin.’
Ben was about to protest, but arguing with Ebb was like arguing with fog.
‘You are no better than the mealy-mouthed scum who litter the streets on a Friday night,’ Ebb continued. ‘They all talk a good fight, fuelled by the demon drink, but put them in a uniform and ask them to fight for Queen and Country and they’d piss their pants at the whine of a bullet.’
Ben tried to keep still. The slightest movement set off flares in his body. ‘Can I please have some water?’
Ebb shook his head. ‘You are in a period of fasting, Benjamin.’
‘I feel sick.’
‘You’re bound to be queasy. Satan is like a rotten tooth. Your natural instinct is to resist the dentist even though you know extraction will make you better in the long run.’
Ben groaned. ‘I just want some water.’
Ebb turned away and addressed the group. ‘He will resist, but we shall be strong. Satan’s instinct is to procure sympathy. But we must never be fooled by his foolery.’
‘I’m not trying to fool any—’
Ebb turned around and clapped his hands at Ben like a teacher trying to form order in a classroom. ‘Silence. I’ve suffered enough of your insubordination. Speak only when spoken to.’
Ben shut his mouth. His heart banged in his chest.
Ebb turned to Alice. ‘Sister?’
‘Yes, Father.’
‘I want you to fetch a lighter, a flannel, and a bowl of antiseptic liquid.’
‘Yes, Father.’
‘What are you going to do?’ Ben demanded.
Ebb turned around again. ‘Do you think I want to give Satan prior knowledge of my intentions?’
Ben closed his eyes. He prayed to Pastor Tom’s god. A god with compass
ion. A god who represented the power of good. A god that would surely condemn Edward Ebb to the flames of Hell one day.
Ebb closed his eyes. ‘I ask you to guide me, Lord, as we seek to remove Satan from this wretched mortal being. I ask you to help me cleanse Benjamin’s soul, that he may be pure and whole and ready to serve you.’
Ben watched Ebb screw his eyes up and mouth something unintelligible. Folds of flesh swallowed his eyes. His bald head looked like a glass dome in the glow of the lanterns. He still had the hatpin clutched in one hand. His robe was open at the top, revealing a crop of black hair sprouting from his flabby chest. Ben wondered what Pastor Tom would make of Edward Ebb’s brand of fanaticism masquerading as religion.
Sister Alice returned five minutes later with a bowl of steaming water. She placed the bowl on the ground in front of the cross and then took a disposable lighter from the pocket of her robe. She handed it to Ebb. The smell of Dettol wafted up to Ben, reminding him of his mother’s obsession with the stuff when he was a kid. Every cut and scrape would bring forth the Dettol, complete with cotton wool balls and a put-Humpty-together-again smile.
Ebb gave an exaggerated bow. ‘Thank you, Sister Alice. Please join Sister Dixie and Sister Emily.’
Ben watched the three women link arms, Sister Alice in the middle. Ebb then instructed Bubba to stand in position beside the cross and remain vigilant. Ben wondered what the hell for; he was hardly going to slip out of his restraints and spring from the cross like David Blaine, was he?
Ebb stood in front of Ben. ‘Are you prepared?’
‘How the fuck can I be prepared? I don’t even know what you’re going to do to me.’
‘The Devil makes a fine fork of toasting your tongue, Benjamin. But taking hostage of your tongue will serve no purpose other than to strengthen my resolve. Is that clear to both of you?’
Ben silently asked Pastor Tom’s God to strike Ebb down and reduce him to ash. Unfortunately, Pastor Tom’s God wasn’t listening.
Ebb looked up at the rafters. ‘This sinner has confessed to the sin of sloth, Lord. A weak spirit who leeches upon the blood of others. He has shown a flagrant disregard for the welfare of others and a propensity towards self-obsession. What shall be his punishment?’
Ben followed Ebb’s gaze, half-expecting to see the Devil himself straddling one of the beams. Apart from dozens of cobwebs hanging from the rafters like ghostly hammocks, the beams were as bare as Ben’s tortured body.
