by Terri Grimes
I hugged him tight, holding onto him a minute longer than was probably necessary. “Thanks, pal, I appreciate it. But it’s going to take a lot more than a measly old goat man to drive me out of my house. I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.” After delivering a good natured swat on the butt, I gave him a shove towards his car. I held the car door open for him, shutting it firmly as he settled himself behind the wheel.
I stood on the sidewalk and wrapped my arms around myself, shivering as I watched Timmy drive off. The thought of a goat man being in my upstairs bathroom freaked me out more than I’d like to admit. Between goat men and ghosts that scratch, I was beginning to think sleeping on Timmy’s couch might be a good idea after all. I shook off that thought quickly. I wouldn’t be run out of my own home. After all, I was a Sugarbaker and we Sugarbaker women were made of stronger stuff than that.
I took a deep cleansing breath for courage and walked up the front steps to my house.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Sam’s voice startled me. I hadn’t realized he had come out of the house. I walked over to the porch swing where he sat and plopped down next to him. He pushed against the porch floor with his feet, causing the wooden swing to start its hypnotic motions. Even though the air was chilly, the subtle sway relaxed me.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“How would you feel about my bringing someone in to bless your home?”
I was more than a little shocked at his question. “Do you mean like a priest?”
“No,” he said, leaning back in the porch swing as he rested an arm on my shoulders. “I have a friend who heals negative places.”
I leaned forward, causing his arm to fall against the back of the swing. “So you’re saying my house is negative?” I said with more sharpness than I intended.
His voice was smooth and gentle. “No, I’m sure your home is a very loving and positive environment. But we can’t overlook the fact that something negative and vile is hanging out in your house right now.” It looked to me like he held his breath for a moment while he waited for my reaction.
“What would your friend need to do in order to get rid of the negative spirit?” I leaned back against the smooth oaken slats of the swing.
“She walks through your house reciting prayers and blessings while she carries a sage stick, which she burns, wafting the smoke into all of the corners.”
“And that drives out the bad ghosts?”
“Pretty much,” he said with an enthusiastic nod.
“I guess the spirits don’t like sage.”
Sam grinned wide, showing strong white teeth. “I guess they don’t. But what could it hurt to let her try?”
I shrugged. “You’re right, what could it hurt? Okay, if you want to set something up with your friend, I’m game.”
“Great. I’ll give her a call in the morning and see if I can get her to come out here tomorrow night.”
“So soon?”
“There’s no point in putting it off, is there?”
“No, I suppose you’re right. Full steam ahead then, tomorrow evening it is.” I only wished my resignation was as firm as my voice.
With that we went back in the house so Sam could shut his equipment down for the night.
I shivered. After Sam left, I would be alone in the house. Well, not exactly alone and that was the problem. I shivered again.
Twelve
I had a restless night on the sofa after Sam left. But with every light on in the house and the television set to blaring, it was a miracle I got any sleep at all. It was from sheer exhaustion that I finally dozed off in the wee hours of the morning.
After a quick breakfast of black coffee and a couple of Fig Newton cookies, I headed off to the library to research the goat man Timmy claimed to have seen in the mirror. Sure, I could have done the research at home on my computer much faster, but I was in no mood to sit around the house by myself, waiting for someone—something—to jump out and say boo.
To be honest, I wasn’t expecting much to come of my research. That’s why I was so surprised when the first book I opened had a full chapter dedicated to an entity with goat-like features and pictures of the creature as well. Oh no, this wasn’t good. No, this wasn’t good at all. I did something I’d often admonished others for doing. I pulled my cell phone out in the middle of the hushed library and made a call. Other patrons looked at me with disapproval on their faces, but I didn’t care. If that—thing—in my house was what I thought it was, I had bigger problems than worrying about offending a few lonely people hanging out in a library on a Friday afternoon.
“Hello, Gertie,” Sam’s voice crooned into the phone.
“Hey, Sam, I’m at the library doing some research and I’ve come across something I need to show you. Is there anyway you can come over here?”
“When?”
“Right now.”
“Wish I could darlin’, but I’m in the middle of reviewing evidence for another case I’m trying to wrap up and I’ve got to get it done this afternoon.”
“Oh,” I said, dejected.
“How about I come over a little early tonight, let’s say about an hour before the investigation? Would that work for you?”
It didn’t sound like I had a choice. I guess it would have to work for me.
“Sure, that’s fine.” My voice sounded flat even to my own ears.
Sam chuckled, causing warm vibrations to reverberate through each and every one of my nerve endings, including those in my nether regions. “Tell you what, I’ll bring some sandwiches and if you’ll provide some of that great sweet tea you make so well, I’ll come over two hours early. Is it a deal?”
I hoped my grin wasn’t apparent over the phone. “You’re on. I’ll see you at six o’clock.”
“Okay, sugar, see you then.”
I knew I looked like an idiot sitting in the middle of the library with a wide smile plastered across my face. But I couldn’t have gotten the smile off my face even with a jackhammer because not only did he call me darling, but he also called me sugar. In all fairness, he’d probably started to call me Sugarbaker and I didn’t hear the Baker part. My ears were having none of that though. They were firmly ensconced in the belief that Sam already had a few pet names for me.
“Damn you, heart, behave yourself,” I whispered. “Quit falling for him.”
I hung out at the library after copying all of the pages that referenced the goat man. I knew I was making excuses to keep from returning home and I needed to stop that. What was it Sam told me the first night? This was my house and I needed to reclaim it. I should set my boundaries and reclaim my home. That was easier to do when I didn’t have a name and a face to go with the entity. I took a brief glance at the pages I’d copied. Yes, this was not good.
~ * ~
Sam arrived right at six o’clock on the dot. Being on time added to a man’s attractiveness as far as I was concerned. Not that I needed any additional reasons to be attracted to Sam.
He held the white paper sack out to me. “I hope you like pastrami on rye with spicy brown mustard.”
“How did you know that’s my absolute favorite?” I asked, my lips curving into a smile as I took the sandwiches from him.
“Luck of the draw since pastrami is my absolute favorite too.”
Yet another thing we had in common. I stopped just short of breaking out with a happy sigh.
“Thank you for bringing dinner.”
“It was my pleasure, Gertie.”
He followed me into the kitchen. Then, pulling out the stool at the kitchen island, he sat, making himself at home. I enjoyed knowing that he was watching me as I unwrapped the sandwiches and set them on plates for us. There was something so domestic and so right about sitting in my kitchen, eating with Sam. It felt so comfortable, like we’d known each other forever.
I reached around to Sam’s back and touched my finger to his lower flank as my other hand set his sandwich in front of him. “How is you
r back today?”
“It’s fine,” he said a little too quickly, wincing as my finger brushed the scratches. “Whatever it was that came after me last night was more powerful than anything I’ve ever witnessed before.”
As I pulled out a stool and sat next to him, he turned to face me. “I’m not even sure it was human.”
I could feel my mouth hang open in a perfect O. “Not human?” I said. “Of course it’s not human, it’s a bloody ghost, for God’s sake!”
“No, no,” he said, shaking his head back and forth a couple of times. “You’re talking apples and oranges. Ghosts may not be human now, but they were human at one time. Remember our talk the other day about the various types of entities?”
My brow crinkled in confusion as I nodded, vaguely remembering all he had told me about human and non-human entities. “But you said this ghost wasn’t human.”
He sighed and rubbed his temples with his forefingers as if he suffered from a headache. “What I said was ghosts were once humans. What I meant was, this may not be a ghost. I don’t believe this entity was ever human. Does that make it a little clearer?”
After setting my sandwich down on my plate, I wrapped both of my arms around myself. “Well, if this thing was never human, what is it?”
“Demon,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. His lips tightened at my sharp intake of breath.
My mind reeled. If Sam was certain this thing was a demon, then that would mean the research I pulled up at the library was accurate. That would also mean I spent the remainder of the night alone last night in the house with… with… a demon. Or more aptly, if Timmy’s visual of the goat man was correct, a demon prince. The thought horrified me.
I picked up my sandwich and took a bite, chewing methodically as I contemplated. “You know I went to the library today, right?”
Sam cocked his head to the side as he looked at me. “Sure, you called me from there. Short term memory going again?”
I felt myself blushing. “This is serious, Sam. I wanted you to come to the library this afternoon so I could show you what I found.”
His face turned grim as he waited for me to continue. I could sense he knew what was coming.
Wiping my mouth with a napkin, I stood up then walked to the small nook on the kitchen counter where I’d laid the stack of papers earlier. “Since you couldn’t make it to the library, I copied a few pages from the book I was calling you about. I think you need to see this.”
I set the copied pages out on the counter in front of him.
He pushed his sandwich to the side and picked up the first paper, studying it intently.
“You recall Timmy’s little episode in the upstairs bathroom last night?”
Sam nodded, reaching down to pick up the second piece of paper.
“This is what he described to me. The goat man in the book I found in the library is a dead ringer for what Timmy told me he saw in the bathroom mirror.”
Sam put the papers on the counter. Leaning back on the stool, he sighed. “I suspected we were dealing with a demon, but I didn’t know which demon.” He drummed his fingers on the granite top, setting his lips in a tight thin line as he glanced down at the paper and read. “Orcas, a third level demon of the underworld and punisher of broken oaths.” He looked up at me. “Well, now we know who we are dealing with.”
It didn’t sound like he felt any more thrilled about it than I did.
“How does one get a demon in their house? I mean, did I do something to cause this?”
“That, my dear, is the sixty-four thousand dollar question.” He took a huge bite of his sandwich, deep in thought as he chewed.
“Well?”
He swallowed the bite he was chewing. “Well what?”
I gave an exasperated sigh, resisting the urge to whack him on top of his sexy head with my sandwich. “What’s the sixty-four thousand dollar answer? How did a demon get in my house?”
He shrugged. “Several different ways. The most common being satanic rituals.”
I shuddered. “I’ve not been holding any satanic rituals and I doubt my grandparents did either.”
“Ah,” he said. “You’re assuming the demon has been here for a long time. Didn’t you say the paranormal activity started only two months ago?”
“Yes, I already told you, it started after the earthquake, within minutes in fact. When that medallion thingy popped out of the wall in my bedroom.”
Sam’s eyebrows rose in surprise and he set his sandwich down. “What medallion? There was nothing in the notes about a medallion.”
I knew it! That bitch, Amanda, I bet she didn’t even write down half of what I told her that morning. “As I told your case manager, Amanda, during the earthquake a medallion popped out of the wall in my bedroom. Almost hit the television as a matter-of-fact.”
“By medallion, are you talking about a religious medal about this big?” He measured out a length of two inches with his fingers.
“Yes.”
“It wasn’t magnetized by any chance, was it?”
I nodded.
He lifted both hands high in the air, annoyance marring his face. “You couldn’t have told me this earlier?”
“I didn’t think it was relevant to a ghost investigation. We aren’t talking about warding off vampires with a Saint Christopher medal, you know. Besides, why are you getting shitty with me? Shouldn’t you ask Amanda why she didn’t bother putting this little detail in the notes? Doesn’t it make you wonder what else she left out?”
I took another bite of my dwindling sandwich, chewing vigorously as I tried to calm down.
Sam reached over, dabbing a smear of mustard from the corner of my mouth with his napkin. “I apologize, Gertie. I know I shouldn’t be taking this out on you. It just frustrates the hell out of me that I didn’t know about the medallion sooner. It would have saved us all a lot of time and effort.”
“Apology accepted. But seriously, you should have a talk with your case manager about putting everything in the notes that the client says.” I waved my pickle spear, stabbing the air with a pointing motion.
“Amanda’s been with me for two years now. I know she has her faults, but she’s familiar with my system, she knows the equipment…”
“She’s afraid of ghosts and can’t bother showing up for the investigations to do her job.” I stabbed the air again with my pickle, for emphasis. “What good is a case manager that won’t even show up to do the job?” I leaned back on the kitchen stool.
He didn’t have time to dwell on it because at that moment we heard Timmy bounding up the wooden steps and coming in the front door.
“Hey kids,” Timmy said, entering the kitchen. “How’s it going?”
He looked entirely too cheerful for someone who’d left here shaking like a chihuahua out of kibble just last evening.
Sam and I shared a look.
“You mean you don’t know?” I asked. “You haven’t figured it out yet?” With what he had seen in the bathroom, I’d have been certain he would have guessed what he’d come face to face with. Or rather, face to mirror.
Timmy’s cheerful expression turned to one of worry. “Know what? What is it I don’t know? What haven’t I figured out? Has something happened?”
“You might say that,” Sam explained. “Hang on to your hat, Timmy, but I don’t think this is any ordinary ghost we’re dealing with.”
“No ordinary ghost?” He chortled. “What are we dealing with then, super ghost?”
I stifled a groan. Even for Timmy that was a lame joke.
“We think we are dealing with a demon,” Sam said.
Timmy gasped, his face pale. “A demon?”
“We can’t be sure,” I said, giving Sam a sharp look. “But Sam was attacked during our investigation and—”
“Attacked! What do you mean, Sam was attacked?” Timmy interrupted. The poor guy looked like he was going to faint.
Sam pulled up the back of his pullover, revealing the claw marks.
In the light of day, the three long gouges looked even worse than they had last night.
Timmy’s mouth dropped open in horror. “A ghost can do that? How is that even possible?” He pulled out the remaining stool and sat down at the kitchen island with us.
“Not a ghost, a demon,” I corrected him.
“I still don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head, his confusion apparent. “How do you know it was a demon that scratched you and not a ghost?”
“Easy,” Sam answered. “Demons always scratch in lines of three.” Still holding his shirt up for Timmy to see, he traced the fading gouges with his forefinger. “You see?”
Timmy’s eyes were wide saucers as he nodded.
“There are several theories about why demons always scratch in three’s. Most believe that the three lines symbolizes the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.”
Timmy scrunched his face in confusion. “A holy demon?”
I shook my head in embarrassment, glad that for once I wasn’t the one asking stupid questions, even though I had wondered the very same thing.
“Not quite. By clawing my back in lines of three, the demon is giving me his calling card. To put it in layman’s terms, he is symbolically telling us he is slitting the throats of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” Sam made a slicing motion across his neck.
Gooseflesh rose on my arms as an uncontrollable shiver passed through me. I looked at Timmy. If the look of horror on his face was any judge, he wasn’t taking the news any better than I was.
It was surreal to know that I’d been interacting with a demon these past two months. Even more surreal was the thought that Timmy would show up for another night’s investigation after what he saw in my upstairs bathroom. My friend may be gayer than Aunt Francis when she hits the cooking sherry, but the sheer fact that he showed up tonight proved that he had gonads of steel.
“Old Orcas, or whatever the hell his name is, has got to go,” I said firmly. “He wasn’t invited into my home and nor is he wanted. He’s got to go. Now!”
“Excuse me? Orcas? How do you know its name?”
