by J. R. Mabry
He watched the little girl shift back and forth from one leg to another, thinking. Every moment the demon inhabited her, the more tenuous the little girl’s grasp on reality would be, the less likely she would be able to be fully restored. Richard felt the press of time and struggled within himself for how to hurry it along.
“Look, Duunel, I don’t like the idea any more than you do, but it’s better than sacrificing a child. We just saved her—don’t take her away again. If you inhabit me, we’ll be able to move about freely. We’ll eat and drink and smoke pot. We’ll have sex—”
“Not with men, you perv.”
“Okay, not with men, not while you’re in here.”
The little girl’s face still registered uncertainty. But finally she nodded and pointed at the ring. “Take it off.”
He did, drawing the ring off his finger and, slipping his hand through the slit in his cassock, placed it in the pocket of his jeans.
“Open wide,” said the demon. Richard did.
TUESDAY
74
The boom-booming of the drum drove Dylan downward, through the crust of the Earth, through the portal between waking reality and the Otherworld. As he climbed steadily onward, he resisted the vertigo that the whirlwind events of the last couple of days threatened to inflict. Instead, he struggled to keep his focus on the rock in front of his face and the narrow, winding path leading downward, downward.
But discipline had never been his strong suit. His mind rushed back to the moment when he and the others had burst into the elder Dane’s hospital room to see Jamie holding Richard’s hand, with the old man’s discarded body in a heap at their feet. Dylan had dropped to one knee, pressed Jamie to his breast, and squeezed her tight, a hug she returned in earnest. But what haunted him most, after the whole blasted ordeal, was the sad and tired eyes of his friend, Richard. There had been something unnerving in his weak smile, something that Dylan had not been able to put his finger on. They had all left then, Richard to drop the Serpentines off at their lodge and Dylan to return Jamie to her home.
Crossing successfully to the Otherworld, Dylan headed through the mist toward 924 Gilman, toward his power animal, Jaguar, and that elusive oblate, Mikael.
He wouldn’t have given the look in Richard’s eyes a second thought were it not for one thing: Richard had not come home afterward. Dylan had called twice, before he went to bed and after he got up. Both times Richard had answered, both times he insisted he was all right, and both times he had been evasive as a greased sow. Dylan scowled through the haze, feeling very uneasy. Something was not right with Richard, he knew it in his bones. But Richard wasn’t saying.
Eventually, Dylan saw the amber streetlight above the punk club cut through the fog, and he followed its hazy beam. He skirted the edge of the building to where he had left Jaguar and Mikael last time.
There, as he had been expecting, was Jaguar, sitting patiently, his long, black tail whipping to and fro in an unconscious rhythm. Dylan stopped, confounded. Mikael was nowhere in sight. Dylan cursed inwardly, and suddenly all of the stress, all the frustration, all of the rage of the past several days caught up with him, and he could no longer contain it. “Where the fuck is Mikael?” he exploded.
Jaguar did not reply but only blinked calmly and after a few moments rose and began padding away.
“What the hell?” Dylan called after him. “Am Ah supposed to falla you?”
Jaguar looked back at him then turned again and glided into the mist, his mottled black fur reflecting gold in the amber light.
“Fuck!” shouted Dylan, and he began to jog after the great cat. In moments, he had caught up, and, placing his hand on his power animal’s flank, they walked side by side for some time.
He realized how mad he was at Richard. He was the sub-prior, after all. If something was going on, by God he should know about it. Especially if it were something that could affect the order, or Richard’s ability to lead it. Dylan felt excluded, and it was not a feeling he enjoyed.
A few minutes later, the fog began to part again, and Dylan’s shoulders slumped when he realized where Jaguar had led him. “Not again,” he said aloud. “Ah’m sick to shit o’ this place,” he complained to the cat, but Jaguar ignored him and led him up the steps of the Dane mansion.
Inside, they crossed the foyer and went down the long hall to where they had descended into the catacombs. Jaguar led him there now, padding soundlessly down the narrow stairs into dark.
There were no lights, yet Dylan found he could see pretty well—just one of many weird aspects of the Otherworld. But as soon as they reached the bottom of the steps, his blood ran cold within him. The dim cave of the catacombs was crowded, so crowded that he could barely move. And every one of the souls packed into that underground tomb was the shade of child.
Dylan fought back sobs as he realized who they were, what they were doing here. They are the souls of the children Dane has killed, he thought. They must be.
As he walked down the hallway, the children followed him with their hollow eyes, pleading, yet each one defeated by despair.
Then, near the end of the passage, he saw a tall, lanky figure, familiar beneath his appalling shock of black hair.
“Mikael, dude, Ah am so fuckin’ glad to see you.” He raced forward to embrace his friend.
Mikael was holding the shade of one of the children, but he gave Dylan a squeeze with his free arm.
“Dude, don’t tell me…” Dylan began.
Mikael nodded grimly. “He told them he was liberating them.”
“From what? Life?”
Mikael shook his head. “I don’t know what old man Dane did to him when he was a little boy, but it left him convinced that childhood is one dangerous, rotten place to be. He told them he was their savior, their deliverer.”
“Fuckin’ whack job’s more like it,” Dylan answered. “So, these kids…they’re all dead?”
“Shhhh…” said Mikael. “They’re scared, and they’re traumatized.”
“Ah…” said Dylan, comprehension dawning on him. “They’re stuck.”
“Exactly.” Mikael nodded, stroking the hair of the little girl he was holding.
Dylan clapped his hands and looked around. “Hey, y’all, listen up,” he called to them. “Mah name is Father Dylan, and me and Mikael over there are your friends. We love you, and we are not going to leave you alone again. So be brave, and take heart. We’re all going to walk out of this place now, and we’re going to take you to a good place, where there’s lots of light and people who you know and love. Your grandmas and grandpas, uncles and aunts, and some of you, even your moms and dads. Who wants to go?”
He had expected a cheer, but their spirits were too beaten. Instead, he saw them nod their heads, their wide, brimming eyes hardly daring to hope.
Dylan led the way, and they began to ascend the stone steps together. Dylan walked hand in hand with a child on either side, guiding them through the opulent yet accursed house and down the wide marble steps. He nodded at Jaguar padding triumphantly to his right. “Hey, Jaggy,” he asked. “You know the way to Heaven?”
He was almost floored to hear the cat respond in an even, booming voice, “All roads lead there eventually.”
Just then, from behind him, Dylan heard Mikael’s voice singing out, confident and clear, “I looked over Jordan, and what did I see?”
Dylan laughed aloud to hear it, and as he did so, he felt the tension drain from the knot in his chest. He answered back, in a voice not quite as sweet, but every bit as joyous, “Comin’ for to carry me home…”
As he sang, Dylan looked over his shoulder at the long stream of children behind him, a slow and silent parade of souls. Mebbe, he thought, by the end of this journey, we’ll have them singing.
75
Dylan opened his eyes and oriented himself in the room—Mikael’s room, with light streaming in through the wall of windows, and the expectant faces of Susan, Kat, Terry, and Brian hovering above him. Su
san laid down her drum and said in a voice containing both fear and hope, “Well?”
In answer, Dylan rolled over and got on all fours. Crablike, he shifted sideways until his face was directly over Mikael’s unconscious head. Rearing up on his knees, Dylan pried Mikael’s mouth open. Then he bowed down, looking for all the world like he was about to kiss him. Instead, he blew in Mikael’s mouth. Then he blew again on his chest. Then, he smacked Mikael hard on the arm. “Giddup!” he called, too loudly for the little room.
Mikael’s eyes flicked open, staring directly at Dylan.
“God, you’re ugly,” he said.
The entire room exhaled a sigh of relief, and then pandemonium set in as everyone spoke at once.
Mikael just lay there with a goofy smile on his face. Kat could stand it no more, and she fell upon him, covering his mouth with hers.
Suddenly everyone went silent, stunned by the kiss. They were even more stunned as the kiss continued. And continued.
“Kat,” Brian broke the silence, “the man has to breathe, or he’ll lapse into another coma.”
She giggled, and it broke the spell. She rose up on her arms and stared into his angular face. “You’re some guy, when you can make me fall in love with you while you’re asleep.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Kitten, I was already smitten before I left.”
Then Susan and Terry and Brian were upon him, hugging him and crying tears of relief.
“Where’s Dicky?” he asked, finally rising to a sitting position.
The room went silent, and no one looked too sure about how to answer. Finally, Dylan ventured, “We don’t know. Ah talked to him on the phone, and he says he’s okay. Ah’m gonna go see him after the baptism. He’s negotiating the translation of the angel. Ah can’t imagine that would take so long, but that’s what he says he’s doin’.”
Susan looked skeptical, Brian looked worried, and Terry scowled, barely concealing his anger.
“Ah know, somethin’s not right, but until we know what it is, we can’t fix it,” Dylan finished.
“I just hope it’s something within our power to fix,” Terry said, crossing his arms. “Anyway, I’ve finished sacristying downstairs. Everything’s ready. When’re the Swansons going to get here?”
The doorbell rang downstairs. “Uh, that’d be now,” Dylan said, and jumped off the bed.
Downstairs, Dylan greeted the Swansons and shook the hands of an unfamiliar couple that they introduced as Jack and Emily Estudillo—Jamie ’s godparents. Dylan then paid an extra special hello to Jamie. She kissed his large, flat nose, and he made a face. Standing up, he whispered to her father, “She seems okay.”
“We had some nightmares last night,” he confided. “But yeah, she seems okay today.”
“Ah wouldn’t be surprised if them nightmares lasted a while,” he wanted to add, even into adulthood, but he decided against it midsentence.
“We’re so grateful to you,” Connie Swanson said. “We thought we’d never see her again. What in the world would Satanists want with our little girl?”
He opened his mouth to argue that the Serpentines were not Satanists but decided against that, too. It just wasn’t necessary. He smiled a tired but professional smile. “Ah tell you what, let’s baptize this child so she’ll have even more protection against them kind of folk.”
He bid them all sit in the chapel and hurried off to vest. Susan came downstairs and greeted them, offering to take their coats.
In a few moments, all were gathered around a crystal bowl of water on the altar. Even Mikael, though weak, leaned on Kat and beamed at the scene before him. Dylan held Jamie in his arms, the little girl wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Jesus said, ‘Suffer the little children to come unto me,” Dylan began the liturgy, “meanin’ that it wasn’t just the adults who could have a relationship with Divinity, not just the smart folks, not just the rich folks, not just the mature folks, neither. And thank God for that, or none of us would be here. Nah, he said, ‘Let the children come,’ because even the simplest soul, those with little or nothing to contribute, those without much experience or wealth or smarts is as welcome as anyone else in the Kingdom of Heaven.” He turned to face Jamie and rubbed noses with her. “And that means you, little one.” He pointed at the big, messy icon of Jesus plastered across the whole of the wall. “See that? That’s a picture of Jesus. And see? It’s made up of lots of little pictures. Jesus is the eyes and ears and hands and feet of God on this here Earth, and he is made up of all of us. And as soon as we sprinkle this here water on ya, you’ll be a part of him, too. Ah know that’s a complicated and deep kind of thought, but is that okay with you?” She nodded. The Estudillos looked at the icon with something approaching horror, and then at Dylan like he was out of his mind.
“Are you…Catholics?” Jack Estudillo asked.
Dylan ignored him and motioned for the Estudillos to come stand by him. He transferred Jamie to Jack’s arms, and she went willingly enough, treating it all as if it were a game.
Dylan faced the parents. “Do you promise to see to it that Jamie is raised a good person?”
Her parents nodded. Dylan leaned in and whispered, “Ya gotta answer out loud. All of yas.”
“Yes,” both couples said, a little nervously.
“Do ya promise to cherish her as a gift from the heart of God?”
“Yes.”
“Do ya promise to pray fer her and set a good example fer her?”
“Yes,” her parents and godparents nodded earnestly.
“Do ya promise to take her to church now and then and tell her how much God loves her?”
“Yes.”
“Do ya promise to take her to Baskin and Robbins at least once a week for ice cream?”
Jamie’s father froze with his mouth open, about ready to agree, when Jack Estudillo repeated, “Are these priests Catholic?”
“Do you renounce Satan and Satanists and everything evil and icky?” Dylan continued.
“Yeees,” the parents and godparents repeated, not at all sure about this.
“Do you renounce all those things that might distract you from the love that fills your lives—the love of God, and the love of one another?”
“Yes,” they agreed.
“Do you trust in Jesus Christ to save and protect you?”
Jamie spoke up, “I trust you, Father Dylan!”
“Well, that’s fine,” Dylan said, “Ah’m just a little part of Jesus. How ’bout it, parents?”
“Yes,” they all said together.
“Waal, I reckon that’s good enough,” Dylan turned to his housemates and addressed them, “Will you who witness these vows do all in your power to support these people in their lives of faith?”
“We do,” answered Terry, Susan, Mikael, and Brian as one. “We do,” Kat said, a heartbeat later.
Dylan motioned for Jamie to hop down and come close to the altar with him. She slid from Jack’s grasp and walked up to the high table, barely able to see over the top of it.
“Lookee here,” Dylan said, showing her the crystal pitcher of water. “What do you think is in there?”
“Water?” Jamie asked, chewing on the back of her hand.
“Holy water,” Dylan said. “Special magick water that protects people.”
“Oh for crying out loud,” Jack Estudillo whispered. Emily slapped him on the gut.
“Let’s say a special prayer over the water, okay?” He picked Jamie up in his left arm and held her against him. With his right he lifted the pitcher.
“God, you are truly awesome. In the beginning your spirit moved over the face of the deep—that’s the waters, little one. In the time of Noah—remember the ark?—water washed clean the face of the earth, so that there were no more icky people. Then, when Moses came along, God parted the Red Sea, and all the people of Israel walked to safety on dry land. Then, lots later, Mary nourished Jesus in the water of her womb—”
“Okay, this is too much,”
Jack complained.
Dylan ignored him and pressed on. “Then John the Baptist poured water over Jesus’s head in the Jordan River. A Samaritan woman offered him water at a well. Then Jesus washed the disciples’ feet. What does all this tell us, little one?”
Jamie shrugged.
“It tells us that God really, really likes water! And he uses it for all kinds of symbolic things—”
“I’m sorry, Connie,” Jack shook his head. “This man cannot be a Catholic priest.”
Dylan raised the pitcher up and poured a long stream of water into the bowl. Jamie’s eyes lit up as the arc of water hit the bowl and splashed all over the chapel. She jumped up and down and giggled. Then Dylan set the pitcher down and jumped up and down with her. “Isn’t this fun?” he asked her. Still jumping, she nodded with big, dramatic jerks of her head.
“Okay we’re gonna talk to God, now,” he put his finger to his lips and said, “Shhh…”
Then he straightened up and held his hands over the water. “Hey, God, why don’t you come on down into this here water? Fill it with your grace and blessing so that Jamie here will always feel loved and protected and comforted. Make her, by this action, part of your Son, Jesus Christ, so that she might continue his healing work in the world. Amen.”
He leaned over and whispered to her. “Are you ready?” She nodded. “Okay, here we go. Pick her up, Uncle Jack.”
Jack scowled at Dylan but lifted Jamie so that her chin was nearly resting on the bowl.
“Jamie, Ah baptize you in the name of the Holy One, Creator,” he dribbled a little bit of water on her forehead. She giggled. “Liberator,” he dribbled a bit more, “and Comforter.” He faced her and rubbed noses again. “How was that?” She nodded enthusiastically, still dribbling water.
