Deliver Us From Evil (Demons Beware Book 2)

by mike Evans

  Edward tried to smile and say something back, but waved it away, he didn’t have the breath to joke around with. “Be quiet please and listen. Michaels...Father Michaels is on the phone; he has a job for the two of you.”

  Nathaniel and Carter sat him down in the pew patting him on the shoulder. “We’ll go get the call. I think we need to get a second line or something, Father Edward.”

  “You are telling me that, hurry up, heaven knows how long that took me, he probably thinks I keeled over in the hallway. The two of you be careful, be smart, and take care of yourselves, and each other.”

  “We will and thank you for caring so much, Father Edward, we really appreciate you,” Carter said.

  They ran down the hall to the phone, Nathaniel rounded the corner first and sped into the office ahead of him. He took the phone first, plopping down into the office chair, leaving Carter standing in the doorway shaking his head. “You’re getting old, Carter.”

  “I’m twenty-seven, Nathaniel, apparently you are getting senile in your old age because you’re two years older than me.”

  “Yeah, but look at me, I come from good stock,” Nathaniel replied.

  “Nathaniel, would you please stop making Father Michaels wait. He doesn’t call to chat.”

  Nathaniel cradled the phone and cleared his throat. “Hello, Father Michaels I-”

  "I know for a fact that I've called you at least once to ask you about how things were going. I know for an absolute fact, because my memory is as good as they come. Do you think they'd have some half able minded priest running things for something this dangerous? No, no I don't suspect that they would."

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean whatever it is you heard. You were calling about a job that needed to be done, right?" Nathaniel questioned.

  “Well of course I was, but it’d be nice if people didn’t just assume that I am calling about something. Do you have a pen?”

  Nathaniel took a piece of paper and pen from Edward's desk testing it and nodding. "Yes, sir, I do."

  "I want you to go to 562 Elm Street in East Los Angeles. Mrs. Milton has been complaining that her son was starting to act a little funny to the bishop," Michaels ordered.

  "Wow, she jumped right over the middleman, didn't she? Give us twenty minutes and we can head over there. Is she ready for us?"

  “I can’t say. I tried calling over there a few hours ago, multiple times and no one answered. You’ll have to be the judge if she is there or not. Her teenage son is who they are having issues with,” Father Michaels replied.

  “Better than a kid, at least,” Nathaniel replied.

  “How is that?”

  "At least a teen has lived a little, still a baby, but a four-year-old knows next to nothing."

  "I guess, please report back to me and if you are lucky you'll be able to make noon mass," Michaels said with a tinge of fear in his voice, always worried about sending men to battle on behalf of others.

  "Check, I'll call you this afternoon. I hope that it's a dumb demon, we could use one of those. They've been getting stronger and seeming like they have something going on, some reason why they have been wearing us down."

  "Let's hope that isn't the case. They've made a play before for the world and it was less than desirable. The leftover demons took us months to eradicate but that is a story for a different day. Tell Mrs. Milton that we sent someone just as quickly as we could and apologize that we couldn't get someone sooner. I'm sure we'd like her to tell the bishop how well everything went, so let's try and make that a reality."

  “Sooner I get off the phone sir, the quicker we will be on the way there,” Nathaniel said carefully not wanting to offend his teacher and mentor.

  “Right, go with God.”

  “As to you, sir, goodbye,” Nathaniel replied replacing the phone back to its cradle.

  Carter couldn’t stand not being on the inside. “So, we do or we don’t have a job?”

  “We do have a job, Carter, and it isn’t Father Michaels sending us to do it so much as he was directed by the bishop directly, they haven’t been looked at and there’s been no tests to see if it is psychological.”

  Carter whistled knowing that pulled some weight. He snatched the note looking where they were going and saw that there was some money where they were headed. “Looks like the demons take the possession without prejudice.”

  “How’s that?” Nathaniel asked.

  “They are in a rich neighborhood. They probably know the bishop very well or know someone who has a wing of a library named after them because of the donations they’ve given. I don’t want to say that it is nice to know that the rich aren’t any safer, I'm sure it would be looked at a bit sideways but it really is nice to know.”

  "Yeah, I can't say that I'm that keen on the idea personally," Nathaniel replied.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Simple, rich people have money, money buys big houses.”

  “Right, Nathaniel and how does that matter?”

  “It means that they probably have big houses, really big houses with really tall ceilings. The last thing I want to worry about is being taken up three or four stories and tossed out a window.” Nathaniel said with hesitation in his voice.

  Carter rubbed his back already thinking about the pain that would explode through it if such a thing happened. They went to their small dorm sized rooms gathering what they wanted to take with them on their persons and leaving the rest in their briefcases. When Nathaniel knocked on Carter's door, he was already waiting and held up a set of keys to a Buick. “We can take the church's car; I cleared it with Father Edwards already."

  Chapter 5

  Chicago 1988 – Hart Broadcasting Studios

  Morty Spencer watched in the mirror of his dressing room as the young makeup artist got him prepped for air. “Mr. Spencer, I have been watching your show for years, I love it, I just absolutely adore it. You make me laugh so hard at some of the crazy people you have on.”

  “Did the producers talk to you today sweetheart about my guests we are having?”

  “No, I’m sorry, should they have? It’s my first day, I went nuts when they told me that I was going to get you ready today. Was there a special request you had, any suggestions?”

  Morty smiled ear to ear tilting his head side to side looking at the bright lights on his face. He laughed his trademark laugh and his white veneers almost sparkled in the lights. “You see I was wondering if someone told you that maybe I was interviewing Gene Wilder today.”

  “Sir, I don’t understand, I’m sorry.”

  “Well, I was just curious if you thought that making my face look like an Oompa Loompa might make good ol’ Gene feel a little more at home here?”

  “You think it’s too orange?”

  “No, I think it’s great, do me a favor though, tell them to get your paycheck made up for you today on your way out.”

  She smiled awkwardly, “I swear I’ll understand more on a normal basis.”

  Morty pulled the paper napkins from his shirt as he walked out to take the stage. “I’ll let you know exactly what I mean. You are fired; you have a wonderful day, and maybe look for a new line of work.”

  Morty walked off to take his stage to interview the two priests that he had heard rumors over the last year that had been making their way around Chicago claiming to be taking those possessed by these so-called demons and sending them back to hell.

  A knock came at the door to the dressing room provided to the show’s guests. Father Michaels smiled poking his head in waving. “I had a call to make.”

  “Was it business, Father Michaels?” Billy Parker asked.

  “It isn’t always business when I call someone, you realize that, don’t you? I don’t think anyone realizes that. I talk; I do more than just work.”

  Father Michaels sat down on the visitor's couch, his frown turned into a smile as he watched the two boys as he tapped his ash in his hand. James watched, smiling, “You know, if you save that you
could use it for lent, Father Michaels.”

  Billy was pacing back and forth. “You do realize that you’ve stuck us in a pool with a piranha, right? Spencer is going to put us through the ringer, Father Michaels” Billy said throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.

  "Are you telling me that the great William Parker, fighter of demons, savior of the devout, fears Morty Spencer?"

  “I'm not scared of anyone, well any human at least. But he makes people look like idiots, James. Who knows why he wants to talk to us or what dirt he thinks he has on us.”

  “You’re priests, how bad could it possibly be?” Father Michaels asked.

  “You are asking that with a serious face,” James cut in saying. “It is tabloid television.”

  “Yes, it probably is boys, but do you know what the upside is to it?”

  In unison, they both questioned, “Yes, please, what?”

  “That our diocese thought two young, handsome priests would be better than an elderly priest.”

  “You aren’t that old, what are you sixty-five?” James said, knowing exactly how old he was.

  “You know very well that I'm only fifty years old Father Clapper, now don’t try and raise my blood pressure, the doctor said I'm supposed to stay calm.”

  James laughed, and Billy said, “You picked the wrong business if you were looking for something stress-free.”

  “I didn’t pick it; a woman came to me saying she had demons in her house and that they were scared to go home. Does that ring a bell, you haven’t forgotten that, have you?”

  “No, unfortunately, I can still see that like it was yesterday,” Billy replied attempting to remain calm.

  “So, you just want us to answer honestly, to be clear?” James asked.

  “You’re priests, why would you want to lie? Yes, just do your best to satisfy his questions. I’m more than sure that in a half hour we’ll all be laughing about this sitting back at the church having dinner,” Father Michaels tried to say in a manner where he could calm the two men’s worries.

  “You are taking us out to eat for doing this, you’ve got a church budget,” Billy said smiling and adjusting his collar.

  A light knock came at the door and someone with a headset poked their head in smiling. “Fathers, is there anything you need? You will be going on next if you could follow me, please. Father Michaels if you’d like to head up front we’ve reserved a seat for you. The boys said that you had issues climbing the stairs in your old age. I have a wheelchair here if you’d like it?”

  Father Michaels shot daggers at the boys shaking his head. He smiled politely at the boys. “Father Parker, Father Clapper, break a leg out there. No, dear, I think that I will manage to make it all by myself. I thank you though, you are too kind.”

  The two followed the producer down a long hall busy with people running in and out of doors. James looked to Billy for any reassurance and he wasn’t sure if he was going to pass out or be ill. “Would you pull it together, Billy, you look like you’re going to puke your guts out, take a breath or something, would you?”

  Billy gave a thumb up before sticking his head in a trash can and making just about the worst noise James had heard in a long time. “You are filling me with all kinds of confidence, Billy, are you going to be alright?”

  He answered with a second round of puking and the producer started to look green in the face. “If he doesn’t stop puking, I'm going to lose everything I’ve eaten today.”

  James smiled uneasily. “I'm sure he’s-”

  Billy did it again and the producer sprinted for a bathroom before an echo of puking came down the hallway. Everyone in the hall had stopped and was looking at the two priests, only James, of course, was able to see anything. He leaned over patting him on the back. “Are you going to be able to do this or not?”

  Billy pulled his head out rising slowly testing his stomach to make sure he could sit up straight. When nothing tried to escape, he pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, taking it across his chin he saw the bystanders. The producer came out of the bathroom and she did not look like she was overly pleased with him. He pulled out a second backup handkerchief and held it out for her. She shook her head, pointing to the door. “You don’t want to be late, Fathers, Mr. Spencer is less than forgiving.”

  She opened the double set of steel doors. The two looked up, seeing a blinking green ON AIR sign. They came out to a smiling Morty Spencer standing and clapping as a large projection screen for commercial breaks raised itself off set and back onto the rafters above and out of view. Morty said, “Thanks again to our sponsors for the new soon to be a hit from comedian turned action star Bruce Willis in a riveting looking preview for Die Hard, what a movie that is going to be, make sure you catch it and if you’re thirsty afterwards don’t forget to get a refreshing Coors beer.”

  Billy leaned over to whisper to James. “I might need a beer when this thing is done. You think the big man would mind?”

  “Please, you know that Father Michaels and the others take a finger of whiskey every so often. I'm sure that he’d forgive us. I'm sure he would pity us for being put through this in the first place.”

  “Remember that when I ask you to swing in and grab us some from the gas station after we get off the train.”

  Morty turned his attention to the two. “Would you please give up a round of applause for our local boys turned priests. They are Southside boys raised tried and true and have found God in their lives. Father Parker, Father Clapper will you please come, have a seat, and join me on the hot seat. We are very blessed, excuse the pun to have you here today. Welcome, come on don’t be shy, come on folks these men will keep you from going to hell.”

  The crowd cheered holding up colorful signs and the two instantly wanted to melt and go back out to the safety of the busy hallway. James smiled uneasily looking at Billy. “I wish that I would have puked now too,” James said.

  “I told you, it’s too late now,” Billy said smiling.

  “You didn’t say anything, you said blah and then you did it again as you lost your very large breakfast in the garbage can outside,” James said.

  “If you’d have eaten as little as me growing up you would look forward to every meal you get.”

  The two took their seat on the guest couch. Morty had a smile from ear to ear. “Well, how are you doing today Fathers?”

  “I’ve been less nervous in my life,” Billy said with a smile no one would believe.

  “Yes, Father Parker, I am quite sure that you are. Now are you referring to when you are out battling ghosts?” Morty asked with a knowing smile.

  “Demons, Mr. Spencer, demons,” Billy replied.

  “Please, we are going to be old friends soon, call me Morty, call me Morty, let’s try and be civil. Now you aren’t Ghostbusters, just demon busters, is that what they call you?

  “They call us priests, Morty,” James said with a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

  Morty was going full bore now and the crowd was whooping and hollering, “You ain’t afraid of no ghosts, demons sorry demons, so how long have you two been fighting these demons?”

  The crowd roared with laughter. James sat forward, taking long, deep breaths, trying to stay calm at the moment he wished this man was a demon so he could send him to hell where he belonged. But he was just a nuisance and there was very little that he could do to the man, he’d pledged an oath to God and the church and it was not one that he took lightly.

  “We’ve been fighting demons for sixteen years,” James said.

  The crowd gasped whispering to one another. Spencer laughed, he loved his guests because up until now they’d all been just barely on the brink of being able to be referred to as sane. “You’ve been fighting them for sixteen years, I wish that I looked as young as you Fathers. You need to tell me what the secret is to your eternal youth. Is it one of the gifts bestowed upon you by God? Is there a God, do you have any insights into the man upstairs? Or are you trying to say you’ve
been dealing with those dark things since you were ten?”

  “We had an encounter when we were young, it was what started everything, it changed our lives...forever, Mr. Spencer,” Billy said calmly and evenly as he leaned forward staring the man in the eye.

  “Morty, remember we are friends, Father. The last one I want not on my side when the time comes is a priest of all things.”

  “We aren’t friends yet, Mr. Spencer. I can't say that we probably will be. If you need to confess any sins, then maybe you could stop by the church.” Billy replied.

  Billy looked over to Father Michaels watching him as a courier was walking away and he was unwinding a string keeping an envelope closed. From there Billy could see the symbol that came on all their assignments.