He widened his search for passages leading back toward Celeste Marie and ended up in a tunnel that ended in a larger clay room—with a hole broken in the wall, and a tunnel dug into the dirt. He followed the tunnel. Of all the things the demons had left behind, food and water didn’t seem to be among them, and he was getting thirsty.
The tunnel went on for a few miles, then rose steeply. He had found a sturdy but light metal rod in one of the rooms that he was using as a walking stick (after wrapping the lower end in his sock to muffle any noise). He removed the sock, stuffed it in his pocket, and used the rod to help brace himself in the tracks left by the digging machine. He made pitifully slow progress up the slope, according to his mental map, but eventually he reached the top.
He gave his eyes time to adjust to the dim light at the end of the tunnel, resting until his breathing was steady again. He hadn’t used the small light much in the tunnels, having acquired a better sense of echoes. He could tell which rooms were full of stuff, which were living areas, and which were hallways with a few clicks of his tongue.
He stopped at the mouth of the tunnel.
He was in the basement of Gray Hill Church, that was clear enough, but it was hard to see what he was seeing. At one and the same time, he was seeing the wrecked ruins of the basement, and the clean white linoleum and white-painted cinderblock of an undamaged room.
He stood at the mouth of the tunnel, afraid to go forward, lest he be trapped in the undamaged room, unable to return to the tunnel.
A demon came down the stairs. Unlike the other demons he had seen, it was not naked but dressed in a summery dress with flowers on it. It wasn’t wearing girl-shoes, but its hooves were polished and decorated with gold and pink curlicues. It was humming to itself as it went into the ladies’ room. The door closed. A few minutes later, the toilet flushed, the water in the sink ran, and the door opened again. The demon went back upstairs, touching one of its horns in an absent-minded way, rubbing the tip.
Jerome felt very hungry, suddenly. Not fifty feet away was the kitchen, which, if it didn’t hold dozens of dishes waiting for a potluck, would at least have a loaf of bread or a bag of unconsecrated hosts for him to eat. As his stomach settled uncomfortably against his backbone, he understood, if not why, at least what the demons had done.
They had stolen Celeste Marie to make her change the world for them, so they belonged. Something was wrong with the place they had been living, and now they wanted to live here.
He wondered if all the people were gone, replaced by demons. Maybe that was why there weren’t many demons in the corridors below. But then someone else came down the stairs.
From the footsteps, he knew it had to be a human woman; the demons didn’t wear girl shoes in which to walk heel-toe, heel-toe.
After a few seconds, she came around the corner. It was his sister, Peggy.
For a second she looked like she normally did, with a vacant smile on her face, as if she wasn’t really paying attention to what was going on around her. Then she walked into the kitchen. The serving window was open, so Jerome could still see her. Her smile fell down the sides of her face until she was frowning. She turned to pull open the fridge and slid out a half-dozen trays of sweet rolls that hadn’t been baked. She lit the oven and stood back, and then Jerome could see the tear streaks down her face.
Luckily, she didn’t wear much makeup.
Another demon came down the stairs, and Peggy dabbed at her face with a towel before the demon could see her.
“How are the rolls coming?” The demon’s voice (it was dressed as a woman) was low and somewhat gravelly.
“I just pulled them out of the refrigerator,” Peggy said.
“I thought we wanted them in a few minutes.”
“I just pulled them out; I was talking to Father. They’ll live; we could all stand to lose some weight. How’s the coffee holding up?”
“We could use another pot, I suppose.”
“Would you take care of it for me?”
The demon sighed. “Yes.” The contempt was easy to hear in the demon’s voice. People often spoke that way to Peggy, though.
The demon went upstairs, and Jerome hissed, “Peggy! Ssst! Can you hear me?”
Peggy started. “Jerome?”
He raised his voice. “Peggy!”
Peggy looked into the main room, right at him, and didn’t see him. He waved his arms at her, and she didn’t see him.
“Go in the middle of the room, please,” he said. “I know you can’t see me.”
“Are you hiding?”
“No, you just can’t see me.”
“Where have you been?”
“Looking for Celeste Marie.” Well? Where else could they think he’d gone?
Peggy came out of the kitchen and walked toward him, then through him. His stomach flopped. “Ugh. Don’t…please circle around until you’re standing under the light.”
Peggy did as he told her. “Jerome. Show yourself.”
“Take one step forward.”
She did.
He put his arms around her waist and laid his head on her chest. He couldn’t feel her, but he knew she was there. She shivered and looked all around her. “Jerome, what are you doing?”
Jerome took a deep breath. He wasn’t good at explaining things, and even Sebastian couldn’t have found a way to explain this that would make sense.
“I’m right here. Do you remember when the church was attacked by demons?”
Peggy whispered, “Yes.”
“And now it’s not attacked, it’s never been attacked.”
“Yes.”
“But you remember?”
More tears ran down her face. She tried to touch him and passed her hands through his body several times. He was almost ready to vomit.
“I’m in the place where the church was attacked by demons. I’m looking for Celeste Marie. I’m afraid that if I move, I’ll be in the place where the church was not attacked by demons, and I won’t be able to go back.”
“Come back,” Peggy said. “Please come back.”
“I can’t leave her there,” Jerome said. “They’re torturing her and making her change the world.”
“I don’t care. Please come back. It’s too dangerous for you.”
“I will come back as soon as I can. I promise.”
Peggy cried harder, still swinging her arms around. Jerome stepped away from her.
“Could you try to give me some water?” he asked.
“How?”
“I don’t know. But bring a glass of water and we’ll see.”
Peggy went back into the kitchen, wiped her face, and poured a glass of water. She stood in the kitchen and drank most of it. Jerome cursed her under his breath. She poured another glass of water and walked back into the main room, stopping at the same place. She held out the glass of water.
Jerome tried to take it, but his hand only passed through.
“Put it down, please,” he said.
She set it on the floor. He tried again, and the glass twitched. Peggy made a little squeal, then clapped her hands over her mouth.
Jerome took the rod and tapped the end of it on the glass, then used the tip to drag the water closer toward him.
“Jerome?” Peggy said.
“Hm, can you see me?” He grabbed the glass of water and drank until it was gone, then gasped for air.
“You’re like a ghost.”
Jerome took off his backpack and pulled out his canteen, slid it toward her. “Can you fill this for me? And is there any food? I’m starving.”
Peggy bent down and picked up the canteen, running her fingers in wonder over the striped cloth cover.
“Peggy?”
“Oh. Yes.” She walked back to the kitchen, filled the canteen, and opened the refrigerator. She pulled out a dish of butter, studied it, and put it back inside. She set aside a carton of cream. The oven dinged, and she slid two trays of rolls inside.
“Can you wait for rolls?
Otherwise it’s butter, cream, and sugar.”
“Hosts,” he said.
“You can’t have those!”
But when she returned, she brought the water, the cream, a box of sugar cubes, the butter dish, and a bag of hosts.
“It’s all right. They’re unconsecrated,” Jerome said.
“But Father will miss them.”
Jerome hesitated. “Isn’t Sebastian father anymore?”
Peggy put the food on the floor. Her hands were shaking. “One minute he was the priest; the next minute he was a hired hand working for Aloysius. Everyone says he’s a drunk. It’s Father Dennis now.” She whispered, “He’s a demon. He was killed…oh, everyone who was killed in the attacks on the churches has come back as demons. Even Pa.”
Jerome choked on his own spit. “Pa’s dead?”
Peggy nodded.
Jerome shivered.
Peggy was saying, “And now there’s a demon in his place. He’s nicer, but he’s not Liam.”
Jerome collected the food and water. “I have to go. Don’t tell anyone you saw me.”
“Not even our brothers?”
He thought about it.
Someone was coming down the stairs, a demon by the sound of it. Peggy stepped backward, turned, and walked into the kitchen without a second glance.
Jerome watched the demon in the woman’s dress go back into the kitchen. “Coffee’s brewing,” it said. “Are those rolls done yet?”
“I just put them in!” Peggy laughed.
“We’re ready for them now!”
“Maybe if you complain a little more, they’ll bake faster,” Peggy said calmly. “Now, go on. I’ll bring them up as soon as they’re ready.”
“You’ll let them burn,” the demon said.
“I will do no such thing.”
“I’m going to stay down here until they’re ready.”
Peggy rolled her eyes, managing to look toward Jerome as she did so.
He backed down the tunnel, waited for his eyes to adjust, and left.
Chapter 28
Don’s truck pulled up beside his. Don’s truck was taller than his now, and when the demon got out of the passenger-side door, he didn’t have to duck. The air rippled like a heat wave, and suddenly Aloysius’s truck was bigger, too.
Damn it, it was just going to take more gas to push that thing around.
Aloysius studied the new “Father Dennis.”
He wasn’t big, for a demon, but he had the most intricate set of gold tags that he’d seen on one, more intricate than the tags on the Liam replacement: four on one ear and three on the other. Its horns were chased with gold, too, with gold caps on the ends. The tags were bigger, and delicate gold chains linked the tags together.
It looked like the kind of thing a woman would wear to a big party, if he considered it as a necklace rather than as ear tags. Not something you would wear to a fight, even if you were proving your bravado by wearing easily-torn off tags to taunt your enemies with. He’d have to ask Theodore about it.
Don stopped by the truck door, but the demon kept walking toward him. “We’re looking for Sebastian,” Don said.
Aloysius punched his pitchfork down into the manure and let it stand on its own. “What’s that fool done now?”
“He attacked the Father, here.”
Aloysius looked at the demon again. He wasn’t sure whether he was guessing right, but he was starting to get a feel for how the demon’s faces worked. The Father’s nostrils flared, and it snorted so hard that droplets of water trickled out. It was angry. The real Father Dennis would have acted concerned instead, he supposed, from what little he’d known of the man.
Aloysius said, “That doesn’t sound like him at all. He wanted to be a priest since he was a little kid; he’s got nothing but the highest respect for the Church. What’d he do that for?”
Aloysius would have thought that Father Dennis would have had an answer at the ready; he would have, if he’d been the one doing the lying, but the demon paused, still walking forward, until he was almost in Aloysius’s face. Aloysius took a few a few steps to the side, away from the pitchfork but also away from the immediate reach of that thing’s arms. He had trouble believing the demons didn’t have a sense of rudeness in coming so close to a man that you could knock his block off without him knowing about it.
He still had the revolver in his holster, if it came to that.
Finally, the demon said, “Only God knows the mind of a sinner. I will ask him when he is found.”
“You seen him?” Don asked.
“Yeah,” Aloysius said. “He stopped by earlier today, picked up some clothes and a jug of water and took off again.”
“And you let him?” the demon asked. He took another step toward him, and Aloysius took another step back. He could do this all day. Let the demon think he was intimidating him until he shot out his kneecaps and went for the throat. But he wasn’t too scared yet.
“Well, I didn’t know he’d attacked you,” Aloysius said. “And I wasn’t in the mood to fight with him, so I let him go without talking to him.”
“Did he say where he was going?” Don asked.
“Nope,” Aloysius said.
“He’s working himself up to get into some serious trouble,” Don said.
“Sure seems like it,” Aloysius agreed. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Isn’t that the truth. Well, let me know if you see him again; it’ll depend on what the Father wants to do, but we at least need to talk to him.”
“Sure thing,” Aloysius said.
“Mind if we talk to your hands?”
“‘Course not.”
Don walked into the barn, but the demon didn’t follow him. “Your brother was here,” he said.
Aloysius shrugged. “That’s what I said.”
“I can smell him.”
“He ain’t here anymore, though,” Aloysius said.
“I cannot believe that.”
“You think I’m hiding him?”
“You are lying. I can smell it on you.”
Aloysius took a whiff of his underarm. “I lie about a lot of things. But he ain’t here. And as for you, you just stink.”
One of the demon’s ears flicked, as though shaking away a fly. The chains tinkled.
“So, I don’t think I ever really understood about the ear things.” Aloysius pointed to his own ear. “I mean, people explained it to me when I was a kid, but I really don’t understand. What do they all mean?”
The demon snorted and walked into the barn.
A few minutes later, Don and the demon came back out. Aloysius had gone back into the house and poured himself a glass of tea, brought a pitcher and some glasses with him.
“Have anything to drink?” he asked.
“You bet,” Don said. Aloysius poured him a glass. He tilted an empty glass toward the demon.
The demon put its big hands up, face out. “I do not drink.”
“It ain’t alcohol, just sun tea.”
“I do not drink your tea.”
Aloysius shrugged. “You coulda just said no, instead of insulting me.”
The demon backed toward the truck and got in as Don finished his tea. The demon shut his door. Don leaned forward and whispered, “Arrogant son of a cow, ain’t he? Well, that’s as it may be. Let me know about Sebastian.”
“Will do,” Aloysius said. Don handed him his glass and drove off.
The next morning he packed a cooler full of margarine-and-baloney sandwiches, filled a five-gallon jug full of sun tea, and drove off. He told Billy he had to go in to town to see about some parts for a tractor and pick up groceries, which was true enough. If Billy thought there was anything odd about Aloysius using up most of the food left in the trailer, he didn’t say anything about it.
Aloysius kept an eye on his rear-view mirror. He didn’t think the Sheriff would follow him (he couldn’t waste the time), and he was pretty sure the demon wouldn’t think of it, it being beneath
him to wait for Aloysius to go running to his brother, but he wouldn’t put it past Don to hire somebody to do it for him.
Sure enough, in the same place Don liked to leave a deputy from time to time when there was nothing better to do, there was an old beater with off-local plates, had to have been a 1950 Oldsmobile Club Coupe, off the side of the road. As Aloysius passed, he saw a man with his hat over his face, apparently sleeping off a drunk.
He waited for the car to pull out behind him, but apparently the man’s pretense had caught up with him, and he really was fast asleep.
Nevertheless, Aloysius took the back roads and drove through his father’s fields, opening and closing barbed-wire gates, wiring them extra tight behind him, until he ended up at Connor’s old place.
The fallen-in shack was tucked back in the trees about two miles from the main house. Connor had died fifteen years ago, dusting crops.
Liam and Robert had dragged the ruin of the Kaydet by the shack. Connor had made it back from World War II, bought a crop duster, and was dead within two months. If Aloysius looked hard enough, he’d probably see signs of the splatter Connor’s brains had left on the left-hand wing, which had curled up under the plane.
The shack was tiny but proud, two rooms that had been snug against the world when it had first been built. But Liam had refused to keep up with it, and it had fallen apart. The younger boys—Aloysius and Sebastian—had taken it over, first as a clubhouse, and then as a place to hide everything they weren’t supposed to have.
They’d told Jerome it was haunted to keep him away from it, which was a mistake. But he hadn’t ratted them out, either.
The front door didn’t hang straight, and both of the front windows were cracked. The place was stuffed to the gills with crap. He and Sebastian had talked about clearing a space around the shack and burning it down, inviting the whole damned county for the bonfire. They’d gone so far as to toss in any flammable junk they’d happened across. But they’d never got around to it, and then Sebastian had gone to seminary.
Chance Damnation Page 14