The Night is Long and Cold and Deep

by Terry M. West

  "Release my daughter, foul spirit! In God's name, leave her!" Jeremiah commanded, and his entire body shook from the proclamation.

  "No! Simms, get out of here!" Baker shouted.

  The demon grimaced and Jeremiah's frail body lifted into the air. His head bobbed around, frightened, and his weak limbs quivered. The man was sent forcefully into a book shelf. He slammed against it with a bone-shattering thud and he then fell to the cold wooden floor.

  Baker scrambled to the fallen man. Jeremiah was dead already and the awkward position of his head indicated that his neck had been broken. Baker turned his angry attention back toward the demon, which grinned with black satisfaction. He came at it, a snarl escaping from his lips and his hands ready to emulate Masterson's stranglehold.

  The demon motioned with its head and Baker rose into the air. Invisible hands clutched his throat and he was tossed unmercifully into the study walls. In the chaos, Baker saw the restraints that held Nadia unfurl themselves. The evil spirit stood, freed, and watched as the psychical researcher tried to pry the phantom fingers from his throat. Baker struck out with his right leg and managed to catch a silver water pitcher that rested on a small end table. The pitcher bounced off of the demon and the thing recoiled. Baker fell back to the earth and he quickly crawled to the rug.

  The fiend glowered at him as Baker panted and rose from his knees.

  "You can't win, Mr. Johnson," the demon promised. "I am not some lower, nameless thing of the pit. You have no idea what it is you face.”

  Baker straightened and caught his breath. Suddenly, like a bolt, something he had never considered before came to him. "I have been told that I have a rather strange power of observation. My assumptions of people or situations are almost always correct," he explained to the demon.

  The evil spirit stared suspiciously through Nadia’s eyes. "And how is that going to help you with your current dilemma?"

  "I've never attempted it on one of your kind before," Baker said. He stared intensely at the fiend in Nadia's skin and impressions suddenly rushed him and they came as clearly to Baker as they did when he focused on things of flesh and blood. "And I now know what you are."

  “I am Lucifer,” the thing hissed.

  “No,” Baker argued. “The devil is far more clever than you. Your natural state is that of a thorny insect. You come from a quagmire that hangs beyond and below the stars.”

  Nadia’s possessed face scowled. “How do you know these things?”

  "You are an opportunist," Baker continued. "A shadow constantly scratching at the barrier to this dimension and looking for entry. You are a parasite, with no true direction or purpose."

  “How do you know these things?” the demon repeated more forcefully, and a fire suddenly lit in the fireplace of the study.

  “As I explained, it’s my gift,” Baker declared. “The girl you torment has gifts as well, doesn’t she? You are somehow wielding abilities found inside this young woman.”

  The creature sneered and Baker was pelted by more books from the shelves. But the impact was much softer than before.

  “All you have ever known is the void. You are hateful of those with flesh and warmth. You are a whisper in the ear of the weak. Manipulation is your only tool. You have convinced Nadia to retreat and you have taken command of her body.”

  “Silence!” the demon bellowed, and the walls of the study cracked.

  Baker pointed at the girl and his voice boomed. “You will give me your name, demon, and I will cast you from this dimension!”

  The demon’s face shook with fright. “No! She is mine! I will have her and your world!”

  “I demand that you name yourself!” Baker continued.

  A tremor rattled the room, but it was much weaker than the earlier activity. Baker knew he was gaining ground.

  He began to chant the Pagan rites of exorcism which was the oldest and most potent exorcism spell that he knew. It was a bit heavy but without knowing the demon’s identity or the full scope of its abilities, Baker knew it would be strong enough to drive the demon out. It was a last resort for him as it was lethal enough to kill Nadia as the demon was drawn from her.

  The thing protested and used a renewed strength to fling items at its attacker.

  Baker pressed on, knowing that he could not allow himself to be interrupted before finishing the prayer. He picked a heavy Shakespeare volume from the floor and shielded his face against the onslaught.

  The disadvantage of this incantation was its length but Baker knew that the demon would be defeated by it. He just hoped he wouldn’t slay Nadia in the process.

  The maelstrom of items finally subsided and the possessed girl fell to her knees. It was taking a toll on the both of them; possessor and possessed.

  “Benedictus Dea, Matri gloria!” Baker recited, finishing with strength. “Blessed Goddess Mother of glory!”

  The demon tossed back Nadia’s head and gave a painful cry.

  “Your name, demon! I will have it before you go,” Baker insisted. “I will close the cracks with it and you will trouble the living no more!”

  The thing stared weakly at Baker. “I am Bukavac,” it said, softly but with ferocity. “You can nail up the portal, Baker Johnson. But there are many trails in the maze.”

  “I have your name, Bukavac, and I use it to expel you from this place! Go and torment this home no more!” Baker shouted, his face reddening and fists shaking.

  The girl quaked and collapsed. A red glow lit her, and a cloud formed in the air. Baker saw the creature in its spiritual form. It thrashed about above Nadia’s unconscious figure. Baker counted six spidery legs and its entire form was covered with dark jagged horns. The creature gave one final howl of protest and then it exploded in the air. Baker fell to the floor from the force of it.

  He quickly gathered himself and made his way to Nadia. At first, he was fearful that his incantation had been too powerful and that Bukavac had taken the girl as it left. But she stirred and Baker was relieved.

  Lillian and Masterson rushed into the study. The housekeeper immediately drew herself to Simms’ body. Masterson took everything in from the doorway and turned to Baker, who was fanning Nadia awake.

  “It’s over,” Baker reported. “The evil has been driven away. But it took Mr. Simms’ life before it departed.”

  Baker looked to Lillian, who sobbed softly and made the sign of the cross over Simms' body.

  “Who are you, sir?” Nadia asked softly.

  Baker looked down at the girl and he realized he was staring into her true face for the first time. And it was an exhausted and confused face. “I am a friend, Nadia.”

  Nadia looked around meekly and inquired further, “Why I am in this room? What is happening?”

  Lillian made her way over quickly. “I will attend to her, Mr. Johnson,” she said, and Baker moved aside.

  “Mother?” Nadia said, looking at Lillian curiously. “I am tired.”

  “Come, child. I will see you to bed,” Lillian replied. She helped her daughter up and got the girl out of the room without Nadia noticing her father’s body. Baker agreed that it would be too much for the girl to handle.

  Masterson stood near Simms’ crumpled form. “What happened to him?”

  “He wheeled himself in here and the beast tossed him about. It broke the poor bastard's neck.”

  Masterson shook his head. “The way that spirit was able to hurl objects. I have never witnessed such a spectacle.”

  “The demon wasn't responsible for the phenomena. It was Nadia. It is an ability buried deep in the girl that the demon was able to exploit. The girl should be studied. I have never witnessed telekinesis before.”

  “Telekinesis?” Masterson said curiously.

  “It is a term coined by a Russian researcher named Alexander N. Aksakof. It describes the ability to move items with the mind.”

  “Whatever you call it, you won’t be conducting research on Nadia Simms,” Masterson said. “Jeremiah wouldn’t have
stood for that. Let the girl have her peace. She needn’t know.”

  Masterson spotted de Sade’s book on the desk. “What of that?”

  “Apparently, this demon dictated that book to de Sade. The mad author erected an entrance into this world through its pages. The manuscript needed one gifted enough to recite its incantations. Nadia is one of the very few who can comprehend its words, and she had been chosen to write the second volume.”

  “So what do we do with it? I’m for burning it,” Masterson said.

  “That wouldn’t be advisable,” Baker argued. “Destroying the vessel might free the negative energy inside. One doesn’t destroy the lamp of a jinni. One corks it.”

  “So, again I ask- what do we do with it?” Masterson said.

  “I will see that it is contained,” Baker said.

  “How do I know that you won’t just sell it to a collector?” Masterson said, distrustfully.

  Baker strode to the desk, lifted the book, and pushed it toward Masterson. “Would you like to see to its containment?”

  Masterson wanted nothing to do with it. “No son. I will trust you to do the honorable thing. I suspect Miss Thorne will want the other haunted items removed as well.”

  “They will have to be studied before they are moved, so there won’t be energy left behind. The extraction is going to be a slow and costly process.”

  “I am not worried about the rate.”

  “Speaking of money,” Baker said, opening his bag and putting the Servant of the Red Quill inside carefully. “I don’t mean to sound cold, but about my payment…”

  “I am now fully in charge of Jeremiah’s finances. You will be paid handsomely. Lillian and Nadia will both be cared for. It was what Jeremiah instructed. There will still be money left. I think Jeremiah would be quite happy to have some grants in his name go toward psychical research, if you’re interested.”

  “I’ll consider it,” Baker said, gathering his belongings.

  “Come, help me get Jeremiah back in his bed,” Masterson said. “The authorities will be easily convinced the man fell down the stairs. Help me with him and then I will take you home.”

  ***

  Baker was exhausted. He stepped out of the stairwell and onto his floor. Sherman was there, adjusting the hinges on the door of a vacant unit. He spotted Baker and turned his attention away quickly. Baker sighed and walked past the super. He paused and then he put his bag down and turned to Sherman.

  “How long has it been since we have had a meal together?” he asked the super.

  Sherman stared apprehensively at Baker. He was expecting a slight of some kind, no doubt. “We have never broken bread, Baker.”

  “Well, I would be honored if you could join me for dinner this week,” Baker said.

  Sherman smiled and nodded eagerly. “Yes. I would enjoy that very much.”

  “We’ll arrange the details in a day or so,” Baker said, picking up his bag and resuming the journey to his apartment.

  “Baker,” Sherman called after him. “What do you see when you look at me?”

  Baker regarded the man. “I don’t normally share those observations with the subject.”

  “I have to know what you think of me,” Sherman said, steeling his nerves. “I suspect you take me for a buffoon most of the time. What do you see, Baker?”

  “I see a good friend,” Baker revealed. “A friend I have ignored for far too long. I will be resuming my researches. I could use an assistant. It would be nighttime work, so I doubt it would interfere with your duties to the building. Who knows, maybe you will find a good story.”

  Sherman lit up. “Yes, I would be honored to work beside you, sir.”

  “We will discuss the possibilities soon,” Baker promised.

  ***

  Baker stepped into the black room and removed the vase of roses. He spirited the glass to the formal room and put the roses on a table near the window where the sun could reach. His daughter’s jewelry box then went to his nightstand near the bed that he vowed to occupy more frequently and soberly.

  Baker consigned the Servant of the Red Quill to the black room. He closed the door and then he whispered a prayer to secure the area. The words came from his lips quickly and without passion or faith. He simply swung a hammer.

  It was early in the day, but he needed sleep. Baker went to the study for a goodnight brandy and something to read.

  CECIL & BUBBA MEET THE THANG

  If you have not read CECIL & BUBBA MEET A SUCCUBUS, here is what done occurred…

  Cecil McGee and Turner “Bubba” Teague are two thirty year old Southern slackers. They’ve known each since junior high and share a double wide at a little trailer park in Azle, Texas. Cecil works for his father’s garage and gas station and Bubba is a bouncer at the Busty & Lusty club in Fort Worth. Neither could ever be accused of working too hard.

  Not long ago, the boys had been tying one on at their favorite haunt, The Cherokee Lounge. When they left the place, the boys accidently ran over and killed Crackers, a pit bull owned by Rosalita. Rosalita was a local eccentric lady with fiery gypsy blood in her veins. She cursed them on the spot.

  “You will be plagued by the strange and evil until the end of your days.”

  And while it had put the fear of the almighty into Bubba, who was strongly superstitious and believed in such things, Cecil had laughed it off, as he himself regarded the supernatural as a bunch of horse hockey.

  Shortly after that night, the boys were at the Busty & Lusty, the fine gentlemen’s club where Bubba was employed. There the boys met Conrad Woods, a well-spoken Yankee who was conducting a paranormal investigation of the Reynolds house in Fort Worth. The Reynolds house was considered to be the most haunted house in Texas by paranormal enthusiasts. The house sat deep in the dark woods and was a Halloween hot spot for local teenagers.

  Conrad offered the boys a job. He wanted them to assist him during the investigation and act as security. Needing the cash, they agreed.

  The investigation was carried out on the night before Halloween, as the house was rented for a High School party on Halloween night.

  As they conducted the investigation, Conrad called upon the spirit of Hattie Mae Reynolds.

  Hattie Mae had been the long-suffering wife of a morally bankrupt land tycoon. She had been whored out to many a man strictly for the carnal amusement of her husband. Not fond of this life of debauchery, Hattie Mae was visited by the devil. He helped her exact her revenge on her husband and other sexual tormentors, and the devil made her a succubus in service to hell as payment.

  Conrad succeeded in bringing Hattie Mae forth from the depths of hell. Hattie Mae devoured Conrad’s soul and turned him into an undead minion.

  When she attempted to seduce and kill Cecil and Bubba, she realized they had been cursed; their souls had been blackened by the dark sorcery of Rosalita. Hattie Mae could not eat their life force. She demanded they leave, while she prepared to consume all she could before returning to hell. The next day would be Halloween, and it would bring a feast of young and horny souls to Hattie Mae’s doorstep.

  Not taking kindly to this, Cecil decided to burn the Reynolds property down. He hoped Hattie Mae would return to the void, with no physical connection left to her in our world. As the grand old house burned, Cecil and Bubba drove off into the night. The boys wondered what new horrors the curse from Rosalita would bring…

  And now the saga of Cecil and Bubba continues. The story you are about to peruse takes place on the very next night following the events of CECIL AND BUBBA MEET A SUCCUBUS.

  It’s Halloween, y’all. And if you’re anticipating an even bloodier dust-up than the previous story, then you’ve got your expectations set appropriately. So quit fooling around with this here introductory recap and commence with the story!

  TMW

  From his fortress of solitude on the day 2-3-14

  Cecil perched the severed head on the counter near the register. He looked to his daddy for approval. />
  Reginald McGee was a slighter and hunched older version of his son. There was no mistaking the lineage between the two. They both had rugged dark features that cleaned up pretty nicely if there were women to impress.

  Reginald adjusted his glasses and squinted at the horror in Cecil’s hands. “Nah. Don’t like it there. Put it back near the oil cans.”

  Cecil took the fake rubber head, a screaming and bleeding visage with rolled up eyes and a bloody neck stump, and placed it back on the shelf where they kept a selection of motor oil.