by DC Malone
“What if it doesn’t turn out the way you hope, Father? What if, when you walk out of here, it’s not everything you spent your life working toward?”
“I expect nothing,” he replied. “There is a force of wisdom much greater than mine at work behind the scenes. When I walk out of here, as you put it, what will happen is what is supposed to happen. Nothing more and nothing less. That knowledge brings me a peace that is total and complete. These last days have been trying, and I am ready to bow to His greater wisdom now.”
“I guess, if you won’t change your mind, all I can do is wish you well and wish you luck.” It was funny. I really didn’t know Father Donovan. Not the real man, at least. He’d only come into my life as a shell of what he must have been before this all started. But I was still sad to see him go.
The Father nodded his head amiably. “Before I go, there is one thing.” He glanced over at the trio sitting on the nearby pew, letting his eyes linger for a moment before continuing. “What you’ve done here is a point of light in the darkness that I caused—”
“Father, I—”
The older man waved a dismissive hand. “This isn’t about blame. I simply wanted to express my sincere gratitude for what you did. It could not have been easy, and most people would have turned away from it, hoping to leave it for someone else. You certainly didn’t have to see it through. But you did.”
“Well, uh, thanks,” I said. Accepting compliments had never been my strong suit. “But someone had to step up.”
“No, they didn’t,” Father Donovan replied. “But you did. And it is not my intent to simply offer a pat on the back, but rather to draw your attention to what you have done.”
“I stopped a demon, I guess.”
“It can be framed much more simply than that, my child. You did good. There are many who are prone to evil acts, but in this, you performed a work of genuine good.”
“Okay, I’ll take that as a positive.” The priest seemed to be dancing around a more elaborate point, but for the life of me, I couldn’t see what it was supposed to be.
“Just keep this moment fixed in your mind for a time. I am sure a singular person like you, with your unique gifts, has performed other great acts. Some may have been good as well, and others may not have been, but they were surely great acts.” The Father shrugged and gave a throaty chuckle. “Maybe it is because I lived long enough to have some small measure of wisdom, or maybe it’s because I have had the veil of the flesh finally removed from my eyes, but I see a moment coming for you.”
“A moment? What kind of moment?”
“A moment of choice,” the priest replied. “For a time, perhaps things will stay the same for you. And, if I am wrong, maybe they will always be this way. But I don’t think I am wrong. And I think there will come a day when you have to choose your true nature—whether you will be a force for good or a force for evil. It will always come down to a battle between the light and the darkness. I won’t presume to try to sway you one way or the other. I simply ask that you meditate on your acts of good and ponder their rippling effects on those around you.”
“Father, I’m not sure what you think you see in me. But at the end of the day, I’m just me. I try to do as much good as I can, and I don’t go out of my way to hurt anyone. I don’t think there’s a lot to worry about. I’m just a person like any other.”
“I think we both know that’s not true, Meredith. But it is not my intention to frighten or burden you in any way. This night should be one of celebration for you, and I have no wish to sour that. All I ask is that if there ever comes a day when you are not as certain about the person you think you are—if that is ever challenged—just think on what I have said to you. Think on that and consider all the good you have done and still stand to do.”
I wasn’t so sure about that whole celebration thing. Sure, the demon was gone, but another person was gone as well—one that I could save, if only he’d let me. Still, I knew that was beyond my control, so I just smiled and nodded politely. The Father seemed earnest enough in his worry, but I knew there wasn’t anything to worry about. Whatever came my way, I had no intentions of joining the dark side, or whatever it was he thought I might do.
“Alright, Father, if anything like that ever happens, I’ll think about what you’ve said. You have my word.”
The old man’s face lit in a broad smile, dropping at least a decade from his appearance. “That is more than enough for me, young lady. Much, and more than enough.”
Without another word, the priest winked out of existence.
“Not exactly much for goodbyes, are they?” Hiram said, getting up from the pew.
I shook my head. “But he was much more coherent than most. Guess he was right where he wanted to be.” I pointed to Gwen. “How much of a problem is that going to be for me?”
Hiram shrugged. “She has spoken a grand total of three times since she got here. And each time it was just to say how she thought she was going to be sick.”
“But she’s not,” Francie said gently, standing and coaxing Gwen to do the same. “Because?”
When Gwen didn’t reply, Francie filled in the rest herself. “Because barfing in a holy place is bad form.”
She had a point, but I figured barfing pretty much anywhere was bad form.
Gwen stood shakily, clinging to Francie’s arm like it was a life preserver and the church was a stormy sea. I wasn’t exactly sure which part of this whole experience disagreed with her, but whatever it was, it really disagreed with her.
“So,” I started, “you were following me?”
Gwen turned her candle-wax pale face toward me. Her eyes were roving and unfocused, but eventually, she seemed to will them to stop on me.
She opened her dainty little mouth to speak.
And immediately hurled on my boots.
Chapter 26
“She doesn’t remember anything? Like nothing at all?” It was closing in on daylight, and the five of us had returned to Francie’s. Francie manned the bar, while Hiram and I occupied two of the stools. Carter continually paced the full length of the room, occasionally stopping long enough to tap his fist repeatedly against the felt of the pool table.
And Gwen.
She was in my office, hopefully sleeping off what would turn out to be a monster hangover and not a monster amount of brain damage.
“It happened just after she sat down,” Hiram continued. “She made an odd, pained sound. At first, I thought it was just because of the spill she took. But she began talking nonsense.”
“We figured it was some kind of panic attack,” Francie put in. “I mean, that thing up on the stage would cause anyone a fright. I kept trying to calm her. She seemed to respond to that, kind of like a child who needed comforting.”
Francie, Hiram, and Gwen had taken a cab back to the bar, while Carter and I had stuck around the church long enough to make sure the remaining members of the Boys’ Club weren’t any worse for the wear. Miraculously, they were mostly fine. Confused and scared, but mostly fine. We saw to it that they were able to secure travel to their various homes, but let it go from there. Carter had said there would be a mess to dive into concerning the two men who were still supposed to be in custody for murder, but he’d figured that particular mess could at least wait until the light of morning.
At the time, I had been happy to wait for a cab with Carter. I hadn’t had any great desire to be very close to Gwen and her projectile vomiting. But now, all I could think about was Lechbaalmet’s promise. Those who curry my favor do not languish.
He did this to her. Of course, he did. Maybe in his own warped way, he saw it as something I wanted. I didn’t like that Gwen had followed me to the church, so the demon had carried out some kind of mental assault on her as some kind of awful reward for my services.
This is but a taste.
“But she was able to talk when you were in the cab with her?” I asked. “So, that’s a good sign.”
“Yeah, she was
able to talk, Mer,” Francie replied. “But very little of it made any sense.”
“And the little that was coherent,” Hiram took up, “was disturbing, at best. Where am I? Who am I? Not the kind of stuff you expect to hear from a Custodian of the Congregation. Do you realize the kind of knowledge she possesses? To compare her to your average historian would be like comparing an Olympic runner to some guy who decided to jog to his mailbox.” Hiram cleared his throat to make a point. “I guess I should say the knowledge she possessed. Looks like we’re dealing with past tenses now.”
“If she just hadn’t stalked me to the church.” I heard the defensiveness in my tone with the first word. “Alright, scratch that. It’s nobody’s fault, aside from the demon’s, I guess.” And probably mine, but I decided not to go that far. “Is there any precedent for this kind of thing, Hiram?”
“A demon forcibly wiping someone’s memory? Not that I’m aware of, but it does seem to fit with Lechbaalmet’s schtick. He did appear fond of messing with his victim’s minds.”
“That’s something I can certainly vouch for.” Carter stopped his pacing long enough to walk over to the bar. “Still feel like that thing’s fingers are creeping around inside my skull. It puts ants crawling on one’s skin to shame. That’s for sure.”
“Do you think maybe we should take her to a hospital?” Francie suggested.
Hiram made a rude sound. “And what, exactly? Excuse us, doc. But our friend was the victim of a demonic psychic attack. Got a pill for that? Oh, but don’t worry, it’s been banished from this realm, so we don’t foresee any chance of a relapse.”
“You don’t have to be a douche,” Francie muttered.
“Actually, he does,” I said. “It’s just his nature.”
“Thanks for that.” Hiram scowled.
“Why do we have to tell them anything?” Carter said. “Just that she’s lost her memory and maybe they can do something to treat her. I’m sure memory issues like hers are often encountered without any obvious explanation.”
“I still don’t see the point.” Hiram gestured to the shut door of my office in the back. “She didn’t get conked on the head like some character in a sitcom. What Lechbaalmet did is likely—”
The door to my office opened with a soft creak. Gwen slowly emerged, looking for all the world like a small child who’d lost sight of her mother in a bustling mall. Her skin had regained much of its color, which was at least some improvement over the way we had left her.
“Hiram?” Gwen padded gingerly over to the bar to stand next to Hiram’s stool, casting a wary look at the rest of us. “Uh, I don’t remember coming to this bar.” She whispered her words, even though the bar in question was so quiet there was no way to hide what she was saying.
“But you remember me?” Hiram asked.
“Of course. That’s a really weird question. Exactly how much did I have to drink?”
Hiram gave me a look that seemed to be his version of a positive expression, then turned back to Gwen again. “What’s the last thing you recall?”
Gwen’s features scrunched up in a look of concentration. “It’s really weird, but the last thing I remember, before waking up here, is waking up in my bed this morning. At least, I’m pretty sure it was this morning. That’s not normal, right?”
“Ah, it happens to the best of us,” I said. I was just relieved that her memory hadn’t been totally wiped. A lost day wasn’t such a big deal. And the whole deal had the added bonus of her not remembering my little foray into amateur exorcisms. “I can’t tell you how many ill-advised nights have gotten away from me.”
“I can give her a ballpark estimate,” Francie suggested.
“Probably won’t be necessary,” I said.
“But other than the last day, you remember everything else?” Hiram asked. “The Congregation, your position with them, that kind of thing?”
“Sure, I’m not that hungover, Hiram.” Gwen offered a nervous smile. “Honestly, I don’t even feel hungover at all. You don’t think someone, you know, slipped something into my drink, do you?”
“Nope, nothing like that.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “You were with me all night.”
Gwen blew out a breath. “Great, that’s at least one load off my mind.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “And I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but what’s your name again?”
***
It was about a week later, and I was standing at my apartment window staring out at the waterfall-like cascade of gray rain as it washed down the glass. There were still plenty of people on the sidewalks below willing to brave the liquid assault. A lot of that probably came down to the fact that it was after five and most of them didn’t have much choice if they wanted to get home. But the inclement weather had at least thinned the herd a little.
The sight of it reminded me of something I’d heard when I was a kid. Rain keeps the rogues indoors. I wasn’t even sure anymore where I had heard it, but the thought of that—that the rain held some power to keep the bad elements from roving about—always seemed rather cozy to me. I doubted if it held any real merit, though. It seemed to me that a dark, rainy day was precisely the kind of day a rogue would want to be out plying her trade. But maybe that was just me.
A soft knock at my door pulled me away from my thoughts of rain-washed ne’er-do-wells. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and as I walked over to the door, I half considered just ignoring it. I had never had a lot of good luck with surprise visits. Still, the ingrained habits of societal pressures forced me to robotically unlock the door and pull it open.
On the other side was Carter. He was well and truly waterlogged, but he looked considerably less tired than the last time I saw him.
“Guess you’re not a rogue,” I said, stepping aside and letting him in.
“Uh, not that I’m aware of.”
“Rogues don’t like rain,” I explained. “Or so I’ve been told.”
“Sure, that makes sense.”
“Does it?”
He grinned. “Not really.”
“So, what brings you to my side of town?”
“We haven’t touched base since, well, since everything. And I was in the area. So, I thought it’d be a good time to drop in.”
It felt like there was more to it than a simple social call, and I wondered if he’d actually been in my area or if this visit was the reason for him being in my area. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to call him on it. I mean, the last time the guy had been in my apartment, he’d been chained to a radiator. So, maybe this was a kind of closure thing, and I wasn’t going to begrudge him that.
Plus, I was genuinely happy to see Carter.
“I see you’re still working.” I tilted my head toward the badge that was clipped to his belt. It was obscured beneath a suit jacket and a raincoat, but the flash of bright chrome still caught the eye.
“Yeah, I thought about taking some time off.” He laughed. “Actually, I thought about hanging it up altogether.”
“Can’t say I’m too surprised by that. Not many people get that close to becoming a demon’s meat suit. I bet that makes a person reconsider some things.”
“You know, it’s not that part of it that bothers me.”
“There’s something worse than being a meat puppet?”
“Yeah, at least for me there is.” He held up a hand with his thumb and index finger about an inch apart. “I was this close to murdering Makayla’s boyfriend in front of her. And I can remember, vividly, how perfectly logical it seemed at the time. How totally important it was to do that to her. To show her that.”
“The demon did that to everyone it touched, Carter. It made them want to murder. You know that. It wasn’t your fault in any way.”
“Sure, sure. I know that thing did something to me. But I don’t think it made me want to murder that guy. I think it just made it okay to do it. It took away that voice inside that says how horrific something like that is. And you know why it’s so scary? Because that
’s how it must be for some of those people out there. The serial killers and psychopaths. That part of their brain is warped in the same way the demon warped mine. Makes you think.”
“About the number of wannabe murderers we pass in the street each day?”
“That. And how little separates any of us from that kind of stuff. It is a thin line, you know? I’m not saying I’m afraid I’m going to go out and start murdering people or anything. Now that I’m back to myself, so to speak, I can see it the way I always have. But I can still feel what it was like not to care about the consequences.” Carter smiled. “I’m starting to sound nuts.”
“It’s barely been a week, Carter. I think you’re entitled to being a little nuts.”
“I guess so. It’s just a little jarring to be sitting in traffic and have that tiny, foreign voice pop into the back of my mind. My mind will be drifting around the usual work stuff or what to eat for lunch, and then all of the sudden a tiny, cold voice will pop into the back of my mind. Hey, maybe I should run over to Makayla’s and pop off a few rounds into that guy of hers. Gotta say, that’s a slap of cold water in the face. It just floats in all casual with all the rest of my thoughts.”
“I can see how that might be a little disturbing.” I thought about mentioning how, from time to time, I’ve heard shadowy voices whispering in the back of my own mind. Voices that have coaxed me into doing things that were rather out of character for me, too—like kill extremely powerful vampires in cold blood. But this didn’t seem like the time. The idea was to comfort, not terrify. “But you just have to give yourself some time. They’re just intrusive thoughts, and you can’t really think you’ll act on them.”
“No, of course not. I just don’t like that it’s there at all. Feels like the demon left a little something behind.”
I tried to think of something else to tell the guy, something that might ease his mind, but I couldn’t come up with anything. Therapy wasn’t exactly my strong suit, and the most experience I had on the subject was spilling my guts to some drunk dude on the next stool over at Francie’s.
