by John L. Monk
“Did I?” he said with a puzzled frown. “I don’t remember saying that.”
We were quiet for a time. I wasn’t thinking so much as feeling. Considering his ability to cast out hoppers, his words carried more weight than Rose’s aliens. And yet it seemed so outlandish. I didn’t feel demonic.
“What about those snake things?” I said.
“They’re not snake things,” the minister said. “Those are your chains of darkness, reaching across worlds. They tried to take you back. Have you seen them before?”
After a glance at the unconscious man, I told the minister what happened at the jail with my last ride, Trevor. How it wasn’t until I’d yelled at the Great Whomever that I kicked free, and how the snake things had shown up and eaten my memories.
“You threatened your Great Whomever and he listened,” the minister said. “Can you imagine God bending to such abuse? What does that tell you?”
“That I’m intimidating as all heck?”
The minister grunted. “No. It means your Great Whomever isn’t God. I never thought he was. What God would pick someone like you to rid the world of wickedness?”
“Or a grumpy, wishy washy prophet like you to help him?” I said. “Vain, too, I might add.”
“I’m human, Dan. That makes all the difference. I belong here, in this role, flaws and all. Just like you belong in Hell.”
That was the moment he could have kicked me out if he were so inclined, but all he did was sit there.
I nodded. “One good thing—I didn’t lose any memories this time. Whatever you did to the snake-chains, they left on an empty stomach.”
I got up to check the man.
“He’s asleep,” I said. “Can I hit him with the belt now?”
The minister didn’t reply.
Sighing theatrically, I shook the man hard and kept shaking until his eyes opened. He looked at me, then down at his nakedness, then scrambled backwards behind his pillow.
“Who are you?” he said, staring around him. “Where am I?”
“How do you feel, Patrick?” I said.
“Who’s Patrick? Where am I?”
“What’s your name?”
“Huh? Gary.” He crawled from the bed and promptly fell over. “What’s wrong with me? I feel so … like I’ve been drugged.” He stared at us in fear. “What did you sick bastards do to me?”
“Would you calm down?” I said, and helped him back to bed. I turned and examined the minister, still motionless on the chair. “Are you drugged too?”
He flicked me an irritated glance. “No.”
“I think we ought to get out of here before that woman calls the police or something.”
“Woman?” the minister said. Then he seemed to remember. “Oh. Right. We’d better go.”
He moved quickly to the door.
“Where’s he going?” Gary said. “Why’s he dressed like a priest? And why’s he bleeding?”
There was blood everywhere from the minister’s wound. I checked myself for cuts, but didn’t find any. Even if the cops came, nobody would do a DNA test without a murder. At least I hoped not. I needed to keep my ride out of trouble. The minister had signed up for this, but George was an innocent. Gary, though—him I didn’t know about.
“Minister, hold up,” I said, but too late. I heard the door downstairs open and shut. Shaking my head, I turned to Gary. “Who did you kill?”
“What?”
“You heard me,” I said. “You killed someone, or hurt someone. I wanna know who.”
The man hesitated a fraction too long, then pulled an indignant look. “I’ve never hurt anyone. Ask around, they’ll tell you: Gary’s an okay guy. You just remember that, pal—all you assholes. I never did nothing!”
And just like that, he seemed suddenly unconcerned as to why he was in a strange house, drugged and naked in the company of strangers. Now he was defensive and angry instead of wondering where he’d been for however long. Also, during his little speech, he’d let the pillow slip away, exposing himself. Most people didn’t forget their modesty so easily.
I didn’t know what he’d done, but he was an evil bastard, or my name wasn’t Judgment of God.
My problem was: I couldn’t prove it.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I still had the keys, thank goodness. In the minister’s “Dan’s the Devil” state of mind, I didn’t trust him not to drive off and leave me.
This was a hopper house, which meant there were sex toys and other things everywhere, and probably drugs in a donation box if I cared to look. I found what I wanted in a drawer in the desk next to the bed, nested in the coils of a cat o’ nine tails.
Gary was too drugged to put up a fight as I cuffed his hands behind him. After pocketing the tiny key, I stood him up and made sure he wouldn’t fall over.
“Hey, are you even a cop?” he said with sudden suspicion. “You gotta answer me if I ask—it’s the law.”
“Shut up, Gary.”
I found a pile of men’s clothes by the side of the bed and helped him into his underwear and pants. Naturally he tried to kick me, and got smacked in the head for his efforts.
“Ouch!” he said. “I’m sorry!”
“Give me a reason to do it again, Gary. Please.”
I nudged his shoes over so he could slip into them. That took a comical thirty seconds. I couldn’t get his shirt on without taking the cuffs back off, so I just carried it.
Together, we made our way down the stairs with me holding one of his arms in case he slipped. I guided him into the kitchen and said, “Stay put.”
A second later, I found the pantry door and opened it. Sure enough, there was a donation box inside, just like the house in Washington, but this one only had drugs.
“What the hell are you doing?” Gary said.
For lack of a better weapon, I selected a chef’s knife from a wooden block of knives, straight out of Psycho.
A phone rang from somewhere behind me. I knew who it was. This time, I didn’t answer. Because I’d destroyed the camera in the Washington house, the landlord didn’t know my face. But he did know my voice.
Like that other house, the room upstairs had two-way mirrors. I wondered what the landlord had seen during the snake attack. My theory was nothing at all—just me jumping around struggling in pantomime. Why? Because the darkness of the snake things was the same darkness that flashed from Rose’s eyes in that roomful of lawyers, and they hadn’t seemed to notice.
The minister, though: he’d seen the snakes. But he could exorcise hoppers and drop me to my knees with a holy eye twitch. Secretly, I worried he was some kind of prophet.
Just what the world needs: that guy at the head of a religious revival.
When the phone stopped ringing, I motioned with my knife. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Easy with that knife, asshole.”
“Very easy,” I said. “Remember that.”
When we got to the Hummer, the minister’s jaw dropped. He shouted from his seat, sending me reeling at a metaphysical level, forcing me to hang onto Gary for support.
He got out and confronted me.
“Are you out of your fool mind?” he shouted. “And where’s his shirt?”
“Right here,” I said, holding it up. “Would you please calm down? Oh yeah, you’re driving.”
I threw him the keys, which he missed and had to scoop up.
“Dan, you let that man go right now or you’ll regret it.”
“Get these fucking cuffs off me!” Gary shouted. “It’s freezing. I want my shirt!”
Ignoring them both, I opened the back door on the driver’s side and muscled him in. He tried sitting in the seat, but I shoved him to the floor.
“Ouch, get off me!” he yelled.
“Shut up or I’ll gag you,” I said and faced the minister. “You wanted me along because I’m the expert, and my expert opinion is we need to move.”
The minister stood there twisting in moral twistiness. Then he g
ot behind the wheel.
I got in, shut the door, and planted my feet on Gary’s back to keep him from getting up.
“Just take us somewhere secluded,” I said over Gary’s grunting and cursing. “And let me borrow your phone.”
The minister backed out onto the road. A moment later and we were driving away.
“Your phone?” I said.
He handed it back.
“We can’t go around kidnapping innocent people,” he said.
“Just because Nate was innocent doesn’t mean they all are.”
“We’re all sinners, Dan. Especially you.”
That had me laughing for some reason.
“What was all that unclean spirit stuff?” I said. “The look on that woman’s face…”
“She caught me by surprise,” he muttered, jerking the car into a turn as we made our way north, away from the city.
Nate’s number wouldn’t stick until I got kicked. Luckily, the minister had it in his phone.
When Nate answered, I said, “I need you to contact that private eye of yours and look up someone named Gary Brenner … yes, I know this is kind of sudden … no I don’t think he’s a good guy … yes, we sort of need this now, and don’t forget I saved your life … well can you get him to do a rush job? Throw around some of that lotto money?”
When Nate agreed (they were visiting Tara’s mom), I read off Gary’s identification from the wallet in his back pocket. Nate said he’d call me back as soon as he had something.
I directed the minister to a country road through farmland and told him to keep driving. When I checked the phone a half hour later, the signal had vanished.
On the outskirts of a small town, I said, “I have a signal again. Stop when you can.”
Minutes later, he pulled off next to an electric substation nestled in some trees and killed the engine. Anyone driving by would have to turn quickly to see us.
“I can’t feel my leg,” Gary said.
I snorted. “Well, I’m not gonna feel it.”
The minister said, “How long did Nate say it would take? What will you do if he’s guilty of something?”
“He didn’t say, and no idea. But if he’s a bad apple, we can’t just let him go.”
Quietly, the minister said, “You have to understand. My main concern is ridding the world of these demons—”
“Demons?” Gary said in a panicked voice.
“Shut up,” I said.
“But normal sinners must be judged by God. I suggest we take him somewhere, drop him off, and then get to the next house.”
I blinked at him. “You still want to keep going? After I almost got my head sucked off by demon snakes?”
“Demon snakes?” Gary said.
I gave him a sharp kick.
“Especially after what happened,” the minister said. “It proves I was right. I can’t back away now.”
I was about to disagree, try again to get the landlord’s address, but then the cellphone rang.
Thanks to Nate’s money, the private detective had been more than willing to work on short notice. As Nate read off Gary’s extensive rap sheet, I tried not to meet the minister’s probing eyes. When he finished, I thanked him and hung up.
“Well?” the minister said.
“Innocent, as far as he knows. No police record.”
Gary twisted and looked up at me, then faced back down.
“Oh, thank God,” the minister said, crossing himself. “Listen, about the exorcism—I didn’t expect all that. Never heard of that happening at other exorcisms, and believe me, I did my research. But we’ll be ready for them next time. For the chains. We’ll stick you in another room when I get started, and…” He winced and touched his head. “Do you mind driving again? I have a splitting headache.”
“Do we need to get you to a hospital?”
“It’s stopped bleeding. I just need to rest.”
He switched to the passenger seat, buckled in, and adjusted his seat back.
I opened the door and helped Gary out.
“What are you gonna do with me?” he said. “Can you take these cuffs off? I’m dying here, man. What the fuck was that shit about demon snakes?”
To the minister I said, “Give me a minute. I’m taking Gary to the bathroom.”
Eyes closed, he tossed a languid wave in reply.
Sometimes I can’t lie to him—usually when he’s staring me down, suffused with righteousness. But when he was calm like this, I could lie like a congressman.
I marched Gary over to where the woods met a chain link fence with a “DANGER: ELECTRICITY” sign on it and sat him down. A quick glance back offered a partial view of the minister’s head.
“I don’t gotta go piss,” Gary said. “What gives?”
“You do have a record. Quite a long one.”
Gary groaned. “Come on, man. Everyone’s done something, but those charges—they were trumped up.”
“You were convicted,” I said. “Lots of evidence.”
“What do you care for? You’re not a cop. I figured it out early. You don’t even got a radio.”
“You were sentenced,” I said, “to twenty-five years for rape and imprisonment. Now you’re wanted for questioning for more of the same.”
Gary rolled his eyes. “Once you get in the system they’re always jacking you up for something. They don’t care who they collar, so long as they look busy.”
Nate’s information was solid. Gary was high on meth when he’d beaten a female store clerk unconscious and then sexually assaulted her. He’d only served ten years of his sentence because Avenal State Prison in California was notoriously overcrowded.
I checked the Hummer and saw the minister watching me. I waved for patience and he leaned back.
“Okay,” I said, “roll over so we can get these cuffs off.”
“Thanks, man, I appreciate it.” Gary struggled onto his belly. “The fucking pigs lie all the time. It takes more work to find real criminals. Now, whenever some gash comes onto me and I don’t wanna marry her, she runs to the cops. Shit like that.”
“That happens a lot?”
“You bet it—ow!” Gary’s voice was strained. “Hey, what are you doing?”
“Kneeling on your back.”
“Why?”
“Better leverage.”
Before any ladies showed up to marry him, I grabbed a fistful of Gary’s hair and sliced the knife deeply through his throat. I made sure to hold his head down so the spray soaked the ground and not me. While he bucked and heaved through his death throes, I kept an eye on the Hummer. A minute later he stopped thrashing, though his body continued to twitch.
Terrible feeling, killing someone like that. It helped knowing what a monster he was, but only a little.
I wiped the knife on Gary’s pants to remove any prints and left it there beside him.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“What took you so long?” the minister said when I came back.
“Gary wanted to know what happened,” I said. “You know, while he was possessed.”
“What did you tell him?”
I shrugged. “That it was all a drug-induced hallucination, and now he had to hitchhike.”
The minister grunted. “It’s awfully cold out. Should we call him a cab? I hate leaving him here. Nobody picks up hitchhikers anymore.”
“It’s not that cold,” I said. “And there’s a town nearby. We can’t risk you getting arrested for kidnapping. In a couple weeks I’ll be gone, but you’ll still be Anthony the minister.”
“I’m a priest, Dan. Why do you insist on calling me a minister?”
“Because I’m a demon, and that’s what demons do.”
He didn’t say anything after that. I started the engine and pulled onto the road, trying to forget the way the knife felt scraping against Gary’s bone and sinew. I turned the radio on and tuned to something in range. Wiping off one hand, then the other, I maintained a safe ten-and-two grip on the steering wh
eel.
“Are you okay, Dan?”
“Wonderful,” I said.
“Where are we going?”
“To the next house.”
“And where would that be?”
Smug bastard…
“There’s a hopper house in every state,” I said. “Right?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“Then we’re going to Pennsylvania.” Good a place as any, and my mother lived there. “How many addresses are there in Pennsylvania?”
He pulled the list from under his robes. “Just one. Why Pennsylvania?”
“These hoppers are sort of worthless, unless pushed,” I said. “It stands to reason if the landlord wanted to harm my mother, he’d send someone nearby to do it. He probably has them do all kinds of things, or whatever he can manage. Like with Stephen.”
The minister shifted in his seat. “So?”
“So the hoppers don’t care what he wants—they just want to get high and have sex. Maybe they like a little action once in a while.” I thought about Rose, in Savannah. How she’d jumped my bones with a cooling body in the room. “What they probably aren’t up for is lengthy road trips, though I personally like them. You following?”
“No.”
I sighed. “If we can take out the house in Pennsylvania, and those in the bordering states, put them out of commission…”
From the corner of my eye, I saw him nod.
“I see. It’ll be harder for him to send someone after your mother.”
“Exactly.”
“But all we’re doing is exorcising them, Dan, not banishing the houses.”
“The three places I’ve seen have all been secluded,” I said. “If the pattern holds, it gives us time to do whatever we want. Like burn them down.”
“Now wait just one minute. I am not burning down any houses!”
“Then leave it to me,” I said. “And give me that list so I know where I’m going.”
I reached over to grab it.
The minister seized my hand in a white-knuckled grip, making me dizzy and nauseous as the world canted dangerously. I did my best to keep us straight, but we veered off onto the crumbly breakdown lane.
From a million miles away, someone said, “… where you’re driving, you idiot!”
