The Mediator #4: Darkest Hour

by Jenny Carroll

  Clive did blink then, questioningly. "My . . . my grandfather? You think so? Well, I must say … I mean, his death was rather sudden, but there was no sign of – " His expression changed. "Oh. Oh, I see. You think my grandfather was killed by the ghost of Maria de Silva Diego to keep him from writing further about his theory concerning her cousin's disappearance?"

  "That's one way of putting it," I said. "She didn't want him going around telling the truth about what happened to Jesse."

  "Jesse?" Clive echoed. "Who is Jesse?"

  We were both nearly startled out of our wits by a sudden knock on my door.

  "Suze?" my stepfather called. "Can I come in?"

  Clive, in a flurry of agitation, dematerialized. I said come in, and the door opened, and Andy stood there, looking awkward. He never comes into my room, except occasionally to fix things.

  "Uh, Suze?" he said. "Yeah, urn, you have a visitor. Father Dominic is – "

  Andy didn't finish because Father Dominic appeared just behind him.

  I can't really explain why I did what I did then. There is no other explanation for it other than the simple fact that, well, in the six months I'd known him, I'd come to really feel something for the old guy.

  In any case, at the sight of him, I jumped up from the window seat, completely involuntarily, and hurled myself at him. Father Dominic looked more than a little surprised at this unbridled display of emotion, as I am normally somewhat reserved.

  "Oh, Father D," I said, into Father Dominic's shirtfront. "I'm so glad to see you."

  I was, too. Finally – finally – some normalcy was returning to my world, which seemed to have gone into a complete tailspin in the past twenty-four hours. Father Dominic was back. Father Dominic would take care of everything. He always did. Just standing there with my arms around him and my head against his chest, smelling his priestly smell, which was of Woolite and, more faintly, the cigarette he'd snuck in the car on his way over, I felt like everything was going to be all right.

  "Oh," Father Dominic said. I could feel his voice reverberating inside his chest, along with the small noises his stomach was making as it digested whatever it was he'd scarfed down for breakfast. "Dear."

  Father Dom patted me awkwardly on the shoulder.

  Behind us, I heard Dopey say, "What's with her?"

  Andy told him to be quiet.

  "Aw, come on," Dopey said. "She can't still be upset over that stupid skeleton we found. I mean, that kind of thing shouldn't bother the Queen of the Night Peo – "

  Dopey broke off with a cry of pain. I glanced around Father D's shoulder and saw Andy pulling his second-oldest son down the hallway by the rim of his ear.

  "Cut it out, Dad," Dopey was bellowing. "Ow! Dad, cut it out!"

  A door slammed. Down the hall in Dopey's room, Andy was reading him the riot act.

  I let go of Father D.

  "You've been smoking," I said.

  "Just a little," he admitted. Seeing my expression, he shrugged helplessly. "Well, it was a long drive. And I was certain that by the time I got here, I'd find you all murdered in your beds. You really have the most alarming way, Susannah, of getting yourself into scrapes...."

  "I know." I sighed, and went to sit on the window seat, circling one knee with my arms. I was in sweats, and I hadn't bothered putting on makeup or even washing my hair. What was the point?

  Father D didn't seem to notice my heinous appearance. He went on, as if we were back in his office, discussing student government fund-raising, or something completely innocuous like that, "I've brought some holy water. It's in my car. I'll tell your stepfather that you asked me to bless the house, on account of yesterday's, er, discovery. He might wonder at your suddenly embracing the Church, but you'll just have to start insisting upon saying grace at supper time – or perhaps even attending Mass from time to time – to convince him of your sincerity. I've been doing a bit of reading on those two – Maria de Silva and this Diego person – and they were quite devout. Murderers, it appears, but also churchgoers. They will, I think, be quite reluctant to enter a home that has been sanctified by a priest." Father Dominic looked down at me with concern. "It's what could happen when you set foot anywhere outside this house that's worrying me. The minute you – Good heavens, Susannah." Father Dominic broke off and peered down at me curiously. "What on earth happened to your forehead?"

  I reached up and touched the bruise beneath my bangs.

  "Oh," I said, wincing a little. The wound was still tender. "Nothing. Look, Father D – "

  "That isn't nothing." Father Dominic took a step forward, then inhaled sharply. "Susannah! Where in heaven's name did you get that nasty bruise?"

  "It's nothing," I said, scraping my bangs down over my eyes. "It's just a little token of Felix Diego's esteem."

  "That mark is hardly nothing," Father Dominic declared. "Susannah, has it occurred to you that you might have a concussion? We should have that x-rayed immediately – "

  "Father Dominic – "

  "No arguments, Susannah," Father D said. "Put some shoes on. I'm going to go have a word with your stepfather, and then we're going down to the Carmel Hosp – "

  The phone jangled noisily. I told you. Grand Central Station. I picked it up, mostly to give myself time to think of an excuse why I didn't need to go to the hospital. A trip to the emergency room was going to require a story about how I'd come to obtain this latest injury, and frankly, I was running out of good lies.

  "Hello?" I said into the receiver while Father D scowled down at me.

  "Suze?" That all-too-familiar high-pitched little voice. "It's me again. Jack."

  "Jack," I said, tiredly. "Look, I told you before. I'm really not feeling well – "

  "That's just it," Jack said. "I got to thinking that maybe you hadn't heard. And then I thought I'd call and tell you. Because I know you'll feel better when I tell you."

  "Tell me what, Jack?"

  "About how I mediated that ghost for you," Jack said.

  God, my head was pounding. I was so not in the mood for this. "Oh, yeah? What ghost was that, Jack?"

  "You know," Jack said. "That guy who was bugging you. That Hector guy."

  I nearly dropped the phone. I did drop it, actually, but I flung out my hands and caught the receiver before it hit the floor. Then I held it back up to my ear with both hands so I would be sure not to drop it again – and make certain I was hearing him right. I did all this with Father Dominic watching me.

  "Jack," I said, feeling like all the wind had been knocked out of me. "What are you talking about?"

  "That guy," Jack said. His childish lisp had gone indignant. "You know, the one who wouldn't leave you alone. That lady Maria told me – "

  "Maria?" I had forgotten all about my headache, all about Father Dom. I practically yelled into the phone, "Jack, what are you talking about? Maria who?"

  "That old-fashioned lady ghost," Jack said, sounding taken aback. And why not? I was shouting like a lunatic. "The nice one whose picture was in that bald guy's office. She told me that this Hector guy – the one from the other picture, the little picture – was bugging you, and that if I wanted to give you a nice surprise, I should exer – I should exor – I should – "

  "Exorcise him?" My knuckles had gone white around the receiver. "Exorcise him, Jack? Is that what you did?"

  "Yeah," Jack said, sounding pleased with himself. "Yeah, that's what it was. I exorcised him."

  C H A P T E R

  11

  I sank down onto the window seat.

  "What – " My lips felt numb. I don't know if it was a complication of my concussion or what, but all of a sudden I couldn't feel my lips. "What did you say, Jack?"

  "I exorcised him for you." Jack sounded immensely pleased with himself. "All by myself, too. Well, that lady helped a little. Did it work? Is he gone?"

  Across my room, Father Dominic was looking at me questioningly. Small wonder. My conversation, from his end, had to sound completely bizarre. I hadn'
t, after all, had a chance to tell him about Jack.

  "Suze?" Jack said. "Are you still there?"

  "When?" I murmured through my numb lips.

  Jack went, "What?"

  "When, Jack," I said. "When did you do this?"

  "Oh. Last night. While you were out with my brother. See, that Maria lady, she came over, and she brought that picture, and some candles, and then she told me what to say, and so I said it, and it was really cool, because this red smoke started coming out of the candles, and then it swirled and swirled, and then over our heads this big hole opened up in the air, and I looked up inside it, and it was really dark, and then I said some more words, and then that guy appeared, and he got sucked up right inside."

  I didn't say anything. What could I say? The kid had just described an exorcism – at least, all the ones I'd ever experienced. He wasn't making it up. He had exorcised Jesse. He had exorcised Jesse. Jesse had been exorcised.

  "Suze," Jack said. "Suze, are you still there?"

  "I'm still here," I said. I guess I must have looked pretty awful, since Father Dom came and sat down on the window seat next to me, looking all worried.

  And why not? I was in shock.

  And this was a different kind of shock than I'd ever felt before. This wasn't like being thrown off a roof or having a knife held to my throat. This was worse.

  Because I couldn't believe it. I simply couldn't believe it. Jesse had kept his promise. He hadn't disappeared because his remains had, at long last, been found, proving he'd been murdered. He'd disappeared because Maria de Silva had had him exorcised....

  "You're not mad at me, are you?" Jack asked worriedly. "I mean, I did the right thing, right? That Maria lady said Hector was really mean to you, and you would be really thankful – " There was a noise in the background, and then Jack said, "That's Caitlin. She wants to know when you're coming back. She wants to know if you can maybe come in this afternoon, because she has to – "

  But I never did learn what Caitlin had to do. That's because I had hung up. I just couldn't listen to that sweet little voice telling me these horrible, awful things for one second more.

  The thing was, it wouldn't sink in. It just wouldn't. I understood intellectually what Jack had just said, but emotionally, it wasn't registering.

  Jesse had not moved on from this plane to the next – not of his own free will. He had been ripped from his existence here the same way he'd been ripped from life, and, ultimately, by the very same hands.

  And why?

  For the same reason he'd been killed: to keep him from embarrassing Maria de Silva.

  "Susannah." Father Dominic's voice was gentle. "Who is Jack?"

  I glanced up, startled. I had practically forgotten Father D was in the room. But he wasn't just in the room. He was sitting right beside me, his blue eyes filled with bewildered concern.

  "Susannah," he said. Father Dom never calls me Suze, like everyone else does. I asked him why once, and he told me it was because he thought Suze sounded vulgar. Vulgar! That really cracked me up at the time. He's so funny, so old-fashioned.

  Jesse never called me Suze, either.

  "Jack's a mediator," I said. "He's eight years old. I've been baby-sitting for him up at the resort."

  Father Dominic looked surprised. "A mediator? Really? How extraordinary." Then his look of surprise turned back to one of concern. "You ought to have called me straight away, Susannah, the moment you realized it. There aren't many mediators in the world. I would like very much to speak to him. Show him the ropes, as it were. You know, there's such a lot to learn for a young mediator. It mightn't be wise for you to undertake educating one, Susannah, given your own comparative youth...."

  "Yeah," I said, with a bitter laugh. To my bemusement, the sound caught in my throat on a sort of sob. "You can say that again."

  I couldn't believe it. I was crying again.

  What was this, anyway? I mean, this crying thing? I go for months dry as a bone, and then all of a sudden, I'm weeping at the drop of a hat.

  "Susannah." Father Dominic reached out and grabbed my arm. He gave me a little shake. I could tell by his expression he was really astonished. Like I said, I never cry. "Susannah, what is it? Are you crying, Susannah?"

  I could only nod.

  "But why, Susannah?" Father Dom asked urgently. "Why? Jesse? It's a hard thing, and I know you'll miss him, but – "

  "You don't understand," I blurted. I was having trouble seeing. Everything had gotten very fuzzy. I couldn't see my bed or even the patterns on the pillows on the window seat, and they were much closer. I raised my hands to my face, thinking maybe Father Dom had been right, and that I should get that X-ray after all. Something was evidently wrong with my vision.

  But when my fingers encountered wetness on my cheeks, I was forced to admit the truth. There wasn't anything wrong with my vision. My eyes were simply overflowing with tears.

  "Oh, Father," I said, and for the second time in half an hour, I threw my arms around a priest's neck. My forehead collided with his glasses, and they went all crooked. To say that Father Dominic was startled by this gesture would be an understatement of the grossest kind.

  But judging by the way he froze up when I uttered them, he was even more surprised by the words that came out of my mouth.

  "He exorcised Jesse, Father D. Maria de Silva tricked him into doing it. She told Jack that Jesse had been b-bothering me, and that he'd b-be doing me a favor, getting rid of him. Oh, Father Dominic – " My voice rose to a wail. "What am I going to do?"

  Poor Father Dominic. I highly doubt he has hysterically weeping women throwing their arms around him all that often. You can totally tell. He didn't know how to react at all. I mean, he patted me on the shoulder and said, "Shhh, everything will be all right," and stuff, but you could tell he was really uncomfortable. I guess he was afraid Andy was going to walk by and think I was crying because of something Father Dominic had said.

  Which was ridiculous, of course. As if anything anybody said could make me cry.

  After a few minutes of Father Dom saying, "Shhh, everything will be all right," and being all stiff, I couldn't help laughing.

  Seriously. I mean, it was funny. In a sad, pathetic kind of way.

  "Father Dominic," I said, pulling away and looking up at him through my streaming eyes. "Are you joking? Everything is not going to be all right. Okay? Nothing is ever going to be all right ever again."

  Father Dominic might not have been a very good hugger, but he was all there in the hanky department. He fished his out and started dabbing my face with it. I'd seen him do this before with the little kids at school, the kindergartners who were crying over dropped ice cream cones or whatever. He really had the whole dabbing thing down.

  "Now, Susannah," he said as he dabbed. "That isn't true. You know that isn't true."

  "Father," I said. "I know it is true. Jesse is gone, and it is totally my fault."

  "How is it your fault?" Father Dominic looked down at me disapprovingly. "Susannah, it isn't your fault at all."

  "Yes, it is. You said so yourself. I should have called you the minute I realized the truth about Jack. But I didn't. I thought I could handle him myself. I thought it was no big deal. And now look what happened. Jesse's gone. Forever."

  "It is a tragedy," Father Dominic said. "I cannot think of a greater injustice. Jesse was a very good friend to you … to both of us. But the fact is, Susannah" – He'd managed to clean up almost all my tears, and now he put his handkerchief away – "he spent a good many years wandering in a sort of half-life. Now his struggles are over, and he can perhaps begin to enjoy his just rewards."

  I narrowed my eyes at him. What was he talking about?

  He must have read the skepticism in my face, since he said, "Well, think about it, Susannah. For one hundred and fifty years, Jesse was trapped in a sort of netherworld between his past life and his next. Though you can lament the manner in which it happened, he has, at last, made the leap to his final des
tination – "

  I jerked away from Father D. In fact, I jerked away from the window seat. I stood up, strode away a few paces, and then whirled around, astounded by what I'd just heard.

  "What are you talking about?" I demanded. "Jesse was here for a reason. I don't know what it was, and I'm not sure he did, either. But whatever it was, he was supposed to stay here, in this 'netherworld,' until he'd worked it out. Now he'll never be able to. Now he'll never know why he was here for all that time."

  "I understand that, Susannah," Father Dominic said in a voice I found infuriatingly calm. "And as I said before, it is unfortunate – a tragedy. But regardless, Jesse has moved on, and we should at least be glad he's found eternal peace – "

  "Oh my God!" I was shouting again, but I didn't care. I was enraged. "Eternal peace? How do you know that's what he's found? You can't know that."

  "No," Father Dominic said. I could tell he was choosing his words with care now. Like I was a bomb that might go off if he used the wrong one.

  "You're right," Father D said quietly. "I can't know that. But that is the difference between you and me, Susannah. You see, I have faith."

  I was across the room in three quick strides. I don't know what I was going to do. I certainly wasn't going to hit him. I mean, the trigger to my anger mechanism might be oversensitive, but I'm not about to go around punching priests. Well, at least not Father Dom. He is my homeboy, as we used to say back in Brooklyn.

  Still, I think I was going to shake him. I was going to put my hands on his shoulders and attempt to shake some sense in him, since reasoning did not appear to be working. I mean, seriously, faith. Faith! As if faith ever worked better than a good ass-kicking.

  But before I could lay a hand on him, I heard someone behind me clear his throat. I looked around, and there was Andy, in his toolbelt and jeans and a T-shirt that said Welcome to Duck Bill Flats, standing in my open doorway and looking concerned.

  "Suze," he said. "Father Dominic. Is everything all right in here? I thought I heard some shouting."

  Father Dominic stood up.

  "Yes," he said, looking grave. "Well, Susannah is – and very rightly, too – concerned about the, er, unfortunate discovery in your backyard yesterday. She has asked me, Andrew, to perform a house blessing, and I of course said I would. I've left my Bible in the car, however …"