by J. R. Mabry
Moments later, Terry’s suspicions were confirmed. He had suspected the driver might be a demon. If not, his plan would have been useless. But as it was…
The car hit the warding, and the air was filled with the sound of shattering glass and twisting metal. The impact tossed the car like a Tonka Toy, and Terry stopped in wonder to watch the slow, ethereal aerial ballet as it spun in slow motion above his head, in its own way a thing of beauty. It reached the top of its arc and began an equally slow descent, turning in free space and reflecting from a thousand shiny parts the floodlight glow of the toll plaza.
Then, with an impact that nearly knocked Terry from his feet, the town car smashed onto the concrete median separating the two halves of the freeway.
Time having regained its accustomed tempo, Terry sprinted once again to where the friars’ Geo had pulled to the shoulder. He jumped in and slapped Dylan, “Go, go, go! Before the CHP starts asking questions!”
“Ah heard that,” Dylan said, and gunned it.
45
It was not yet dusk when they pulled up to the friary. Terry rushed in to rouse everyone and to get Mikael’s bed ready while Richard and Dylan debated the best way to move him.
“I’m afraid of doing any more damage to his arms,” Richard said. “Why don’t I get him ’round the chest and you get his feet?”
Dylan nodded. “That’ll work.”
They pulled him from the car and gently laid him on the pavement. Then Richard raised him up and, crouching behind him, got him in a barrel-chested bear hug.
Dylan picked up his feet, and they started moving toward the house with Richard walking backward.
That was when Dylan noticed their neighbors sitting on their front porch, staring open-mouthed at the sight of an unconscious man being transported by two habited friars sporting full tonsures.
“Drinking,” Dylan called to them, then tsk-ed. “It’s a terrible habit, and he’s goin’ right into rehab.”
Richard rolled his eyes but kept moving, taking the stairs cautiously as he climbed them backward.
They stopped to rest twice but eventually got Mikael up the broad front staircase and into the bathroom. From the moment they crossed the threshold, Kat had trailed them, wringing her hands.
Terry already had started the water going in the tub, and the others set about undressing him.
The stench was awful, and it wasn’t clear if the excrement caked into the clothes was Mikael’s or—Richard shuddered—if it belonged to former occupants of the room in which they had found him. Using scissors and working rapidly, they cut away his shirt and pants—his cassock had been lost before they found him, apparently.
Out of the corner of his eye, Richard saw Kat cringe at Mikael’s shit-smeared skeletal frame. Then her face registered more curiosity than horror. “Has he got three nipples?” she asked no one in particular.
“According to the Pawnee,” Dylan offered, “That’s a sure sign of a great spiritual nurturer.”
Richard turned Mikael’s body in order to free the last vestiges of what had once been his shirt, revealing a latticework of red and white scars on his back. Kat cried out at the sight of them. “What happened to him?” she asked. “What did he do to him?”
“Ah don’t think Dane did this, Darlin’,” Dylan said in a soothing voice. “Them’s some old wounds.”
“How did it happen?” Kat insisted.
“That’s one story Ah don’t know,” Dylan admitted, a little sadly.
Richard cut away Mikael’s briefs, exposing his nakedness. Kat’s jaw dropped at the sight of it. “Holy God,” she breathed. “Is that real?”
Terry sidled up to her and admired Mikael’s endowment himself. “He certainly made out like a bandit.” He winked at her. “Play your cards right, my dear, you will be one very lucky woman.”
“Very sore woman, you mean.” Her face was a complex mixture of concern, dread, admiration, and amusement.
“Okay, Dyl, one more time,” Richard said, taking Mikael by the torso and lifting. They shuffled with him dangled between them into the bathroom and lowered him gingerly into the tub.
Susan appeared from the back stairs and took in the scene. “Oh Jesus,” she said. “Is he all right?”
“He appears to be in a coma. My guess is demonic dissociation—the very thing we were trying to avoid by quarantining him and Kat.”
“How do we fix it?” she asked.
Richard met Dylan’s eyes but said nothing.
“Okay, guys, news flash,” Terry interjected. “We are all filthy.”
Dylan and Richard looked at their own cassocks. It was true. They pulled them over their heads and piled them on the bathroom floor. “Look, why don’t you guys go shower,” Terry suggested. “Kat and I will wash him, and then I’ll take my turn.”
Richard nodded and followed Dylan to the shower in the master bedroom he and Susan shared. “You go first,” Richard said to Dylan and went to collect a clean cassock from his room.
In the quiet of his own room, the last light of the day filtering through the blinds, Richard allowed himself a moment of repose. Everything was still—especially, most unusually, his own heart. He breathed deep and felt his awareness expand. He felt every ache in his bones, felt his weariness, saw clearly the toll the stress of the last few days had taken on his psyche, his stamina, his soul.
He breathed again and spoke aloud. “Thank you.” Thanks be to God they had Mikael back…if not completely back. He felt the worry and anxiety drain from him, sure that if he looked at his feet he would see a pool of water spreading outward. He closed his eyes and prayed again the only two words that mattered in the whole of creation: “Thank you.”
46
Showered and changed, Richard met the others downstairs for supper. Tobias begged beside the table as Brian unveiled his nut loaf with cranberry gravy to the instant Pavlovian salivation of all who had experienced it before. Kat, however, said, “What the hell is that?” Then she covered her mouth and blushed.
“That, my dear, is dinner. Eat it or starve,” Brian barked at her, with mock annoyance.
The lazy Susan was quickly loaded with mashed potatoes and ginger spinach. Dylan said a simple grace, and the little Susan started spinning.
The big Susan was eyeing Kat with worried caution. Richard noticed and directed his question to her. “Kat, is Mikael all set?”
She froze at the question, not sure how to answer it. Terry leaped in. “He’s resting comfortably in his own bed. He’s as good as he can possibly be under the circumstances.”
“The question is, how do we change those circumstances?” Richard asked.
Brian sat down and unfolded his napkin. “Let’s go over what we know. We know a specific demon, Articiphus, is involved. We know that residual effects from Kat’s brother’s soul exchange have removed Mikael’s soul, but we don’t know to where, or how, to get it back.”
Susan perked up. “Dylan, what about a soul retrieval?”
Dylan scowled. “Wal, dependin’ on where his soul has got to, it could work. It’s worth a try.”
Kat blinked. “A soul retrieval? You mean, like in shamanism?”
“Exactly,” Susan said with a reassuring smile. “Shamanism is Dylan’s specialty.” She gave Dylan a proud wink.
“It can’t hurt,” Richard said. “When should we set up?”
“Wal, the longer we wait, the harder it’s gonna be. Ah say, let’s do it right after supper. Ah mean, after dessert.”
“Does that get you out of cleanup duty?” Terry narrowed one eye.
“Ah sure as shit hope so,” Dylan said, scooping up some mashed potatoes.
“Why did he do this?” Kat wailed. Her outburst of emotion stopped everyone for a second.
“Who?” Terry asked, “You mean Dane?”
Kat nodded. Richard put down his fork, and as he spoke his shoulders sagged. “I’m not sure. My guess is that after our unsuccessful exit job, he had us tailed, probably by professionals, o
r even by demons—”
“Like the one that followed us across the bridge,” Terry interjected.
“Exactly.”
“Well, if he kidnapped Mikael because he was annoyed, what the hell is he going to do now?” Kat asked, a note of helplessness in her voice. “How do we stop him—and the lodge—before they…do something else?”
“We can’t,” Richard said. “Dane is unstoppable.”
Susan’s mouth dropped open. Terry nodded. “Tell them,” he said.
“About what?” asked Susan.
“Dane has the Ring of Solomon,” Richard announced.
“That sounds ominous. What’s this ring?” Susan asked.
“The Ring of Solomon was wielded by King Solomon in ancient Israel,” Dylan explained. “Y’all correct me if I get any of this wrong—”
“You’re on target so far, Honey,” said Terry.
“It gave him the power to command any demon whatsoever, even against the demon’s will, even against the demon’s self-interest.”
“That’s what made him the most powerful man in the world,” said Brian, reaching for a slice of toast.
“Yup,” confirmed Dylan. “It’s kind of like the Holy Graal for Goetic magickians. It’s been lost, but there are always rumors that it’s surfaced somewhere or other. Like most things involving demon magick, though, it’s hard to control and usually ends up backfiring on whatever unfortunate fuck tries to be King of the World, and before you know it the ring has disappeared again. You might be able to command them demons, y’know, but they don’t like it, and you gotta sleep sometime.”
“That certainly fits Dane,” Richard said. “He is without a doubt the kind of guy who wants to be King of the World, and what with all the corporations he’s running he’s got a good start on it already. And he’s certainly got the wealth to pursue this thing to the ends of the earth. I’m not at all surprised he was able to procure it.”
“How do we stop it?” Susan asked.
“We don’t. We can’t. It’s indefensible.” Richard answered.
“So, what, are we just giving up?” she demanded.
Richard looked at Dylan then at Brian. Brian cleared his throat. “That ring has a lot of lore behind it. Richard’s right. It’s unstoppable. Giving up would be the most prudent thing to do.”
Susan was indignant. “Who are you people, and what have you done with our friars? That is not the way we do things around here! We don’t just give up; we find creative workarounds!”
Dylan placed a hand on her arm. “Now, Darlin’, think about this. We got Kat’s brother back, and we might still be able to restore him given time. We got Mikael back, and we’re gonna do what we can for him, too. Nobody’s givin’ up on that. But savin’ the world’s avocadas, wal, maybe we jus’ gotta cut our losses.”
“I never thought I would hear you say those words,” Susan stared at him, incredulous. “Especially where guacamole is concerned.”
“Tough times make for tough decisions,” he agreed.
Tobias barked and ran out of the kitchen toward the living room.
“If we back off now, Dane may leave us alone,” Richard said. “We can ward the house more heavily and hole up for a while—”
“I’m going to go stark raving crazy in here!” Kat shrieked.
“You just have to hang on,” Richard said. “You don’t want what happened to Mikael to happen to you, too.”
Kat looked at her plate. She had barely touched it. Brian noticed. “You know,” he said, “you will hurt my feelings if you don’t try the nut loaf.”
Just then, an earthquake jolted the building, lurching everything in sight one hard tug westward.
“Okay, that was a big one,” Susan said warily, waiting for an aftershock. Everyone held their breath, but nothing happened. Slowly, they returned to their meal.
Terry placed his elbows on the table. “Friends,” he said evenly, “let’s do what we can for Mikael tonight and sleep on what further action to take. We’ve had a hell of a day, and right now may not be the right time to decide.”
“That sounds like the fuckin’ voice o’ Wisdom,” Dylan pronounced.
“Dylan, why don’t you get together what you need to do the soul retrieval?” Richard suggested. “Give it your best shot.”
“After dessert, you mean.”
“Ah…yes, after dessert. Terry, you and I can clean up and say evening prayer. Sound good?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Dylan agreed, relieved to be off the hook. He looked around for Tobias to give him his scraps.
“Anybody see Toby?” he asked.
No one did. “He was just here a minute ago,” Susan noted. “He just ran into the living room.” She rose and left the room in pursuit. “He’s not here,” she called back.
With more alacrity than anyone would have expected of him, Dylan leaped to his feet and ran to join Susan in her hunt.
Richard rose quickly and went to the back door off the kitchen. He scanned the backyard. “Toby!” he called. Just then he spied one of their neighbors, Myra Koss, peering over their shared fence.
Richard ran out the door, down the steps, and across the yard to where she stood, her hair in rollers, dressed in a stained muumuu.
“You boys seen my Mimi?” she asked, working at her cigarette in a state of near panic. “She’s never run away before! She loves me! Tell me you’ve seen her!”
Richard shook his head. “Myra, I’m sorry. I’ll ask the others, but I haven’t seen her. But we can’t find Toby, either.”
Her eyes went wide. “We’ve got a neighborhood-wide dog-napper!”
Richard frowned. “Maybe we do. Listen, Myra, I’ve got your number. I’ll call if we see any sign of Mimi. Will you do the same if you see Toby?”
“Of course, Sweetie. What kind of evil person…?”
Richard placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and turned back to the house. He paused at Toby’s doghouse and looked in. Empty, save for the wadded blanket and a couple of large beef bones.
Others were scouring the yards by now, too, but none had found Tobias. Richard walked to the front, and found Dylan standing in the middle of the street, talking to other neighbors. Seeing Richard, Dylan excused himself and trotted off to meet him. “Dude, this is not good. The Mayers’ dog is missing, too.”
“So is Mimi.”
“No shit! What the fuck?!”
Richard looked back at the house and saw Kat staring at him from the window. She mouthed “What’s up?” He held up an index finger, asking her to wait a minute.
Just then a siren wafted its way to them. Down the street, they saw a fire truck appear and then fade as it grew more distant.
“Ho. Ly. Shit.” Dylan breathed.
“What?” Richard asked.
“Listen,” Dylan’s eyes were closed.
“I don’t hear anything but the siren,” Richard said.
Dylan opened his eyes and fixed a severe gaze on him. “Exactly. Do you hear one dog in this whole neighborhood howling?”
Dylan was right. A shiver of fear ran up Richard’s spine. The dogs were gone. All the dogs. Tobias was gone. Richard felt faint; he felt sick. He steadied himself by clutching Dylan’s arm and noticed that Dylan needed steadying, too. Tears of panic were welling in his eyes. “That wasn’t no earthquake, dude.”
Richard nodded, “I know.” He cupped his friend’s cheek in his hand and raised Dylan’s eyes to his own. “I’m willing to bet that wherever in the universe those avocados went, Toby has gone there, too.”
If Tobias was especially bonded to anyone at the friary, it was Dylan. He was, technically, the “house” dog, but Richard thought of him as Dylan’s, and indeed, it was Dylan who saw to the specifics of his care. Dylan nodded, frantic. “We gotta get him back.”
Richard swallowed. “Were we talking about giving up, just now? What the fuck were we thinking? Dylan, Dyl, listen to me. Fuck what we said before. Dane may not be beatable, but that doesn’t mean we’re
not going to fight him. We’re going to find Toby, or we’re going to die trying. I promise you.” He drew his friend into a hug and held him as the options clicked through his mind.
47
Kat turned to him as he stepped inside the door. “It’s not just Toby, is it?” she asked.
“No.” Richard said.
“It’s all of the dogs, isn’t it?”
“It looks that way.”
“In the whole world,” she said, her lower lip trembling.
He fought back the anger rising like bile in his throat. “We don’t know that for sure, but I think it’s a safe bet.”
She turned back to the window, and Richard saw that her arms were shaking. The look on her face confirmed that it was rage more than sadness that moved her. “Goddamn my fucking brother and all those trolls he hung out with. You know what I thought?” She turned on Richard again. “I thought they were harmless, like little D&D-playing puer aeternus—or whatever the plural of that is in Latin.”
Terry entered the living room from the chapel. “Pueri aeterni,” he said. “Count me in on that one.”
“I don’t think you want to be included in this particular group of pueri aeterni—not with Kat around,” Richard said.
“Think we should finish our meeting?” Terry suggested.
Richard nodded. Terry lifted his hand in the hang-ten formation to his mouth and whistled so loud that Richard picked at his ear to see if there was any blood coming from it.
“I really, really hate it when you do that,” Richard said. “A little warning next time?”
Kat tapped on the glass and motioned to Dylan, and within minutes they were all assembled again, this time in the comfortable environment of the living room.
As Dylan sat, Richard looked at his own hands, marveling at how they were shaking, how his hands could be so beyond his control this way.
“I don’t think there’s any doubt what just happened here,” Susan said. “Avocados was quirky—it didn’t really hurt very many people, farmers and Taqueria owners aside. But this…this hurts the whole world.”
