As Saul and Mag drove up to the Forsythe place, they saw Cooter high-tailing it for the barn. The dog knew better than to hang around the house and Saul wished that he could follow the animal's lead, but when Charlie opened the door in response to Mag's loud knocking, he knew that Patsy needed his help.
Patsy was lying crumpled on the floor; Marybeth, her face the color of freshly fallen snow, was attempting to rouse her lifemate. Mag moved Marybeth gently away from Patsy so Saul could assess the woman's status.
"She's breathing and she has a pulse," Saul announced. "What happened. Did she fall?"
Charlie spoke up. "Don't know what happened. We, Miz Marybeth and me, was upstairs. Didn't know nothin' was wrong 'till we came down to let ya'all in."
"Dr. Feener," Marybeth managed between sobs, "what's wrong with her?"
"I'm not sure, perhaps she simply fainted," whereupon Saul cracked open an ancient, but hopefully functional, container of Spirits of Ammonia under Patsy's nose. The response was immediate: Patsy opened her eyes, coughed vigorously in response to the pungent odor of ammonia, and shoved Saul's hand away from her face.
Marybeth was instantly at Patsy's side, kissing her head and hugging her tightly.
"Okay, okay! Enough already!" Patsy exclaimed as her cough subsided and her mind began to clear. Patsy attempted to sit up, but Saul wanted to assess her limbs and back first and, as he did so, Marybeth quietly made her way back upstairs. Penelope greeted her at the bedroom door; Patsy, whom Marybeth knew had been lying in bed when knocks were heard on the front door, was no longer present.
"Holy shit!" was all Marybeth could say as she carried Pen downstairs with her.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
"...and then I passed out." Patsy had finished telling the group what had happened. Her back hurt like hell and she shook as she spoke but she seemed otherwise unharmed-- physically, at least-- as a result of her experience.
"Believe it or not, I can top that story!" Marybeth proceeded to detail what she and Charlie had been through. "And I swear I saw you, Patsy, sleeping soundly in bed while you were down here on the floor!"
"Sumabitch! I need a drink!"
Charlie had tequila and everyone else had coffee. No one was going back to sleep tonight.
"Mag," Saul addressed his friend, "you've been unusually quiet. This is your area of expertise, where do we go from here?"
"We get help--fast!"
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Vincent Palmary was not the stereotypical octogenarian: He was neither arthritic nor senile; he was not preoccupied with his bowel patterns; he didn't pinch the derrieres of young girls; he was a practicing demonologist. Very early on in life, Vincent had learned that he possessed the gift of discernment, the ability to recognize the presence of evil spirits. Needless to say, this so-called "gift" had created great turmoil in Vincent's life, but he had eventually learned how to deal with his special endowment. It had, in fact, saved his life and the lives of others on more than one occasion.
Seeing as how demonology wasn't an especially lucrative occupation, Vincent, prior to his retirement at age fifty-five, had worked as a police detective. More than once, Vincent had been interviewing a criminal suspect when he felt the impending eruption of hives on his back and buttocks; it never failed--the hives were Vincent's cue that an evil spirit was near and that he best be especially alert and cautious. Vincent's ex-partner, Ralph, often recounted the story of how Vincent had saved his life. They had gone to the home of a suspected serial rapist. The man didn't fit the profile of a rapist and Vincent and Ralph were beginning to think they had the wrong guy. As a result, Ralph had let his guard down and wasn't watching the man as closely as he should have been. Then, out of the blue, Vincent had knocked Ralph's chair over, with him in it! Before Ralph could say a word, he heard the man's maniacal laughter and saw the glint of a knife blade as it arced toward him. But Vincent was on the man like blue tint on an old lady's hair. When Ralph later asked Vincent how he knew what was coming down, Vincent had merely said, "My ass itched."
Vincent was not only capable of recognizing the presence of evil spirits, he could also frequently identify the actual name and/or nature of the spirit. Vincent was aware of the fact that inhuman spirits, a.k.a., demons, value their anonymity. Knowing a demon's appellation could afford Vincent a certain degree of power over the demon; on the other hand, if Vincent wasn't extremely careful, the power that comes with recognition could quickly shift to the corrupt spirit's side of the court.
Strictly speaking, Vincent was not an exorcist, as he was not Catholic. In point of fact, Vincent was not affiliated with any particular religion. That did not mean, however, that Vincent did not believe in God; on the contrary, Vincent Palmary knew that God existed and he trusted Him above all else. It was God, Vincent believed, Who invested him with the power of deliverance--the ability to cast out demons.
It had been many years since Vincent had been asked to pray for someone's deliverance, so he was surprised when he received the call from Magyar Gehrke.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
"Did he remember you? Is he going to come?" Saul anxiously inquired of Mag.
"Yes and yes," Mag responded.
"Thank God!" Marybeth exclaimed as she served breakfast to the group seated around the kitchen table. Mag and Saul had not bothered to go back home during the wee hours of the morning, essentially because they had been unable to coerce Charlie, Marybeth, and Patsy to leave the ranch. Charlie had proclaimed, "Ain't no Gawddamn dead fuckin' freak gonna chase me outta my home!" His sentiments had been echoed, although not quite as convincingly, by Patsy and Marybeth. Charlie's bravado, however, hadn't stopped him from locking the cellar door and running a thick layer of salt along its edge. According to Charlie, whose estranged wife had claimed to know about such things, evil spirits were repelled by salt.
"Dammit, Mag, don't keep us in suspense! What did this Palmary guy say?" Fear had a way of making Saul very impatient.
"Told you. He say he come."
"I know that! What did he say about what's going on around here?"
The phone bill was going to be atrocious--Mag had spent well over an hour on the phone detailing everything that had transpired since the night of Paul's injury.
"Said, 'Sounds interesting'."
"Interestin'? A two-headed cow is interestin', a space alien is interestin'. What we got here ain't interestin', it's downright apocalyptic!" Charlie took note of the stunned looks on the faces that surrounded him. "What? I cain't use a big word now and agin?"
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
Dr. Barker visited Paul first thing that morning.
"Good news, Mr. Forsythe, your stress test was normal. That result, combined with the echo, the cardiac enzymes, and your ongoing heart tracings here in Telemetry, lead me to conclude that you have not suffered any permanent cardiac damage."
"Well, that's quite a relief!" Paul exclaimed. "But it does leave some unanswered questions."
"Yes, Mr. Forsythe, it does. I feel fairly certain that your cardiac arrest during surgery was secondary to the anesthesia; I'm not at all sure why you passed out and fell down your basement stairs to begin with. There is a condition known as paroxysmal atrial tachycardia, PAT, that causes the sudden onset of a very rapid heartbeat. Since the heart beats so fast, the actual volume of blood that reaches the brain may be limited, resulting in light-headedness. You became very tachycardiac in ICU; perhaps the same thing happened to you at home and you experienced a dizziness that was pronounced enough to cause your fall."
"So you think this PAT was the problem all along?" Paul asked.
"I don't know. You see, PAT is very difficult to diagnose unless a pattern of unexplained tachycardia can be established. Both the onset and cessation of PAT are quite sudden, making it difficult to track outside the hospital."
"Okay, but let's say I have or had PAT, what causes it?"
"Well, we've essentially ruled out any abnormality in your heart's electrical conducti
on system so the most likely secondary antecedents to PAT would be: electrolyte imbalances, which you didn't have when you were admitted to the hospital; hypoxia, a lack of oxygen to the brain; drug effects, specifically from marijuana, stimulants, and digitalis; caffeine, and; stress. When I initially interviewed you, you told me that you didn't consume caffeine in excess and didn't feel like you were under any particular stress. You also denied any drug use, so I'm hard-put to give you a definitive diagnosis of PAT."
Paul hadn't told Dr. Barker that he smoked grass, and he was hesitant to do so now. After all, he reasoned, the last joint he'd smoked had been four or five months ago, so it could hardly be the culprit. Furthermore, Paul was convinced that his plummet down the basement steps was unrelated to his physiology.
"Mr. Forsythe?" Dr. Barker wondered why her patient had become so quiet.
"Sorry, I was digesting what you said.
“Dr. Barker, I should have told you this earlier but I smoked my fair-share of weed when I was a young man. Is it possible that my youthful indiscretions have caught up with me?"
Dr. Barker couldn't help but smile.
"Well, I don't know about the effects of any other of your 'youthful indiscretions,' but the tachycardia secondary to marijuana occurs immediately, not years later. At any rate, perhaps the MRI that you'll have tomorrow after the staples are out will yield some more information relative to the cause of your fall. As far as your heart is concerned though, I've run all the tests I believe to be necessary at this time. Once you are discharged, I would like for you to see your local physician on a regular basis. If you'll give me his name and phone number I'll call him and let him know about my findings and suggestions for follow-up. Also, I would like to see you again in a month."
Starr and Tamara were a little late getting to the hospital that morning as they had spent considerable time on the phone with Marybeth. Patsy and Marybeth had debated whether or not to burden Tamara and Starr with what was going on at the ranch; they had finally decided that their experiences might have some bearing on what was plaguing Paul.
"An exorcist!? This Magyar Gehrke is calling in an exorcist?" Tamara was incredulous when Marybeth told her about Vincent Palmary.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
“Oh, Paul! Thank God your heart is okay! Maybe this whole mess was caused by that PAT-thing." That's what Tamara wanted to believe.
"Mom..."
"Starr," Tamara began, tears glistening in her eyes, "just allow me a few moments of self-deception here! Right now I couldn't care less about demons or exorcists! Don't you understand? Your Dad didn't have a heart attack, he's going to be fine!"
Paul sent Starr a look that said, "Leave it be for now." But, as he cradled Tamara in his arms, Paul found himself wondering why he hadn't been shocked by what Starr had told him had been going on at the ranch. In point of fact, Paul found himself smiling inwardly.
Starr, having realized that her parents needed some time alone, left the room and was headed outside for a smoke when she saw Javier Gomez exiting the elevator. She was a bit taken aback by the little jump her heart took when she saw the physician. "Christ, Starr," she told herself, "get a grip!" Little did she know that Javier's heart took a similar bounce when he spied Starr.
"Starr, good morning." Javier said as he walked toward Starr with his hand outstretched.
As the two shook hands, they were both aware that there was more to their greeting than a simple "good morning." Starr and Javier chose to ignore that "more," for now at least.
"Dr. Gomez, I'm so glad I ran into you. Do you know what deliverance is?"
Starr and Javier had settled into chairs in the visitor's lounge. The lounge was otherwise empty, so Starr told Javier what had transpired at the ranch last night.
"You're kidding, right?"
Starr did not answer.
"Oh, hell! I know you're not kidding, but this is all so unbelievable! Things like this simply don't happen in real life!"
"You wouldn't think so, would you?" quipped Starr. "The fact remains, however, that these things are happening."
"God, I don't know what to say! What are you going to do?"
Starr answered honestly. "Go back to the ranch as soon as you discharge my father."
"Starr, this changes everything!" Javier exclaimed. "I can't let your dad go back home now. I don't know what's taking place in Van Horn, but, whatever it is, your father can't be exposed to it. Christ, he just went through major surgery!"
"You're right, of course. Problem is, you don't know my Dad."
Javier did not even broach the subject of Paul's discharge from the hospital until after he had examined the wounds on his skull and legs.
"Your surgical incision looks great so I'll take the staples out tomorrow as planned and we'll get the MRI done. The wounds on your legs are healing amazingly well; they don't even need to be dressed any more."
"So, I can be released tomorrow." Paul stated, more than asked.
"Mr. Forsythe, Starr shared with me what happened at your home last night. I really don't think that..."
Paul did not permit Dr. Gomez to finish his sentence.
"Doctor, I don't mean any disrespect, but I will go home tomorrow, with or without your permission. I will be eternally grateful to you for all you have done for me, but it's time for me to take charge. I appreciate that you have my best interests at heart, but something is going on in my home that cannot be ignored. I don't expect you to understand or accept this, but my family is being attacked by something unfathomable, something other-worldly, something that must be conquered. As melodramatic as that sounds, it's true, and I refuse to stand idly by while my family and home are being besieged. Furthermore, it's obvious to me that whatever has taken possession of my home has the power to reach out to me, regardless of the fact that I am a hundred miles away. I, on the other hand, have no leverage here, I can't fight back. Perhaps in my own home I will have some type of power over this...this, whatever it is. Hell, I don't know! I just know that I must, I will, go home tomorrow."
Paul's soliloquy left everyone temporarily speechless. It was Javier Gomez who finally broke the silence.
"Mr. Forsythe, I concede that something extraordinarily peculiar is going on with you and your family. For all I know, you're right--some malevolent force has moved into your home. Or maybe, just maybe, there's something in Van Horn, tainted water, for example, that's causing mass psychoses. Either way though, I cannot be responsible for sending you back into that environment. You are too physically and emotionally vulnerable right now. If you insist on leaving tomorrow, you will be doing so against my medical advice."
"Paul, perhaps you should listen to Dr. Gomez." Tamara had been swayed by the doctor's adamancy.
"Tam, we are all going home tomorrow after I have the MRI. Dr. Gomez, I'm sorry if I've offended you but this is something I have to do."
"You've not offended me, Mr. Forsythe. I just hope you don't wind up regretting your decision.
“By the way, Mrs. Forsythe, your lab work came back and, just as I suspected, you are slightly dehydrated. The only treatment you need for that is to drink plenty of liquids and stay out of the sun for awhile.”
Starr followed Javier out of her father's room and softly grabbed hold of his arm.
"Dr. Gomez, please don't be angry."
"I'm not...yes, all right, I am angry. Your father is an intelligent man but he's behaving stupidly! He had brain surgery for Christ's sake and now he wants to go home and fight demons! He simply does not have the strength right now to do battle with the preternatural!"
"Dr. Gomez..."
"You would think that he would pay attention to my advice! Jesus, I've had umpteen years of medical training and experience. I..."
"Javier!" The physician was stopped short by Starr's use of his given name. "Listen to yourself. You sound as though you actually believe what Dad had to say."
Javier was shocked by Starr's comment. Could she be right? Was he starting to buy into all
of this supernatural bullshit? Had his grandmother's antiquated belief system taken root within him after all? Javier's thoughts were transformed into words as he finally responded to Starr. "I believe that your father believes everything he says. As for me, I'm not convinced that there isn't a rational and scientific explanation for all that has, and is, happening. For example, when I mentioned the possibility of tainted water earlier I wasn't being facetious. I hadn't thought of it until today, but the water should be tested. Having said that, I have to acknowledge the fact that science does not yet have an answer for everything that occurs in the universe. In short, do I believe that demons are residing in Van Horn? No, I do not. I am, however, ready to at least consider the possibility of the paranormal as it relates to your father's condition and the occurrences in Van Horn."
"Thank you, Dr. Gomez. That's all I ask." Starr felt as though she and the doctor had hurdled a barrier.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
Saul was exhausted, but he couldn't ignore his professional responsibilities. Fortunately, it hadn't been a very busy day at the office. Little Rocio Parra had fallen off her tricycle and needed a few stitches in her arm; Mike Murphy's prostate had been acting up again and he'd needed to be catheterized; Jim Howard had a infected toenail that required treatment.
Saul was winding up for the day when Wanda's voice came booming over the intercom. "DR. GOMEZ ON LINE ONE."
A very frustrated Saul Feener put the phone's receiver back on its cradle. Why hadn't he thought to have the drinking water tested? How could he have missed something so basic? And all of a sudden, Saul was thinking about Hillie Perkins again: The child had died because he hadn't detected the sickness in her mother; were the citizens of Van Horn going to suffer because he had overlooked the obvious?
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