Father Bob had reached the landing and as he turned into the blackness of the basement Tom could see he was staring at something. He stepped next to the priest.
“Is that him, Tom?”
It was. Only he was taller, scarier, translucent and really, really pissed off. It stood about ten feet from them, smoky, rippling like an image in a mirror under cloudy water. “Yes.” He aimed the mister at the image and let it have it. The Holy Water was not as effective as the bullet had been. The entity snarled and rushed him. The thing went through him like a cold knife; there was the horrible smell, the violation, the darkness and the great lead weight of hopelessness. He was coated in evil. Tom fell to his knees; he could not breathe, and the vapors of the demon clung to him telling him not to bother, to give up, to just die.
The candle was out, and he and the priest were in the unnatural black of the basement. Even the dinky windows of the basement should have let in some light, but it was a black box. It was only seconds, but felt like minutes to Tom, who couldn’t breathe. Father Bob reached under his arm and shouldered him to his feet. The priest took the mister and gave Tom a blast in the face. Tom sucked air like he was coming to the surface of a lake after a long underwater swim and began to cough.
Father Bob brought out his flashlight and scanned behind them and as far as they could see in front of them. The flashlight was small, but it should have done better than it did. The darkness was extra thick, like fog, thought Tom. It seemed to devour what little light the flashlight cast. The stairway behind was empty, but they could feel something waiting before them.
“Okay?”
“Sure,” Tom answered, thinking what a lie it was.
“In the name of Our Lord Jesus”—Father Bob made the sign of the cross and Tom misted—“Christ: Be uprooted and expelled from this house and property.” He made the sign of the cross again. There was a terrific bang. It sounded like a tool chest being dropped. Then came the noise of a shelf breaking in two and everything on it falling to the floor.
Father Bob glanced around. Tom had managed to relight the candle, but they were still a bubble of light in a well of darkness. “He who commands you is He who ordered you to be thrown down from the Highest Heaven into the depths of Hell.”
Father moved down the last three steps and Tom stayed by him. The priest was about to pop his head around the corner for a look, when something big sailed just past his nose and stuck in the wall. They could barely see the outline of a hammer.
Father Bob launched back into the exorcism. “I enjoin you under penalty, Ancient Serpent! In the name of the Judge of the Living and the Dead!”
A bucket flew by and sailed through the window closest to them; glass tinkled on the floor. “In the name of our Creator! In the name of the Creator of the world! In the name of Him who has power to send you into Hell!”
The blackness began forming a shape, first a blob, then a column, now a worm. It was undulating and changing constantly. Tom prayed under his breath. Father Bob continued, “Surrender, not to me, but to the minister of Christ. He defeated you by His Cross.” The priest stepped boldly into the basement. Tom hesitated and then joined him, spraying everything he could reach. The darkness looked like a small tornado. He could not see the tall, blond entity.
“Get out!” shouted the priest and even Tom jumped at the command. “In the name of Jesus Christ Our Lord, depart from this house and property forever!”
There was an inhuman wail and the darkness spiraled out of the broken window and away. Father Bob immediately began to pray and bless the area. Tom misted alongside him. They reached the last corner of the basement when the power kicked on. Tom heard the freezer start upstairs, along with all of the other beeps of the answering machine, fax machine, et cetera. He walked over and flipped on the light.
It was a mess. The shelf that held all of the laundry soap and cleaners had busted, and things were scattered all over. A mixture of soap and broken glass littered the floor. The contents of most of the cupboards had flown out, and many of them were stuck in the opposing wall. Tom walked to the stairs and began to pick up the pieces of the shattered door. He noticed strange gouges on the back side. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but it still made his neck hairs raise when he realized they were claw marks. “Father Bob.”
The priest, who was resting on the stairs above him, nodded, looking slightly disgusted. “Better burn it.”
Tom nodded. He could only imagine what kind of creature would sport such long, hard claws that could gouge wood like this. “Are we done? Is it gone?” Tom couldn’t imagine doing more tonight.
“No and yes. They are gone, but I want to make sure they don’t decide to come back. Let’s seal up this house. Bring the door up—here, I’ll carry part and we’ll burn it.”
They took the pieces of the door out in the yard. Tom found a gas can, covered the debris with gas, and they set it afire by the burn barrels. They watched for a few minutes. “What do you think, Father? Was it what you thought it would be?”
Father Bob looked at Tom, the flames reflecting in his eyes. He didn’t answer for a minute. “It was worse. You’ve gotten yourself into some bad shit. I mean this, compared to some of the exorcisms I’ve seen was really not much. But for things to get so bad so quickly … from an object that only briefly was in your house—that is not a good sign of what you are up against.”
Tom felt chilled in spite of the warm June night and the fire before him. Father Bob roused him. “Let’s go finish up.”
The priest took the jar of salt. “This is Blessed Salt. The church and its exorcists are really into purity. The vessels in the church are pure silver or gold. The candles—pure beeswax. Salt is pure. Demons, evil spirits, the Devil—they all despise pure. Especially salt. They will not cross a line of salt. Therefore, we are going to ring your house with salt. I want you to also put some of this salt in containers in the four corners of the basement. When we are done with that, we are going to take Holy Oil and bless the four corners of your property.”
Tom nodded and they began the work. He wouldn’t have blinked if the priest had told him he needed to nail a dead chicken upside down to his front door and eat the roasted heart of a seagull. It was beyond surreal.
He stole a moment to call Cami, who was just about out of her mind with worry. He didn’t give her a chance to get angry with him for not calling sooner. “I’ll call you as soon as I can. Father Bob is helping me. I love you.” She wouldn’t appreciate him hanging up in her ear, but he just wanted to get finished.
The corners of the ranch were marked by boundary stones and steel posts. Father Bob blessed each corner and anointed each steel post with Holy Oil. The sun was just coming up as they got back into the pickup to head for the house. “What about that piece of jewelry?” Tom asked.
Father looked like he had been out partying all night. “We leave it alone. It’s not on your property and it’s unlikely anyone will find it. I want it to stay where it’s at until we get a better idea of the group we’re dealing with.”
Tom was glad. He had had more than his share of shadows for one day. He was so tired that his brain felt like it was in a fog or dream. He drove to the house, and while the priest gathered his things, he made a pot of coffee. He filled a couple of to-go mugs and then they headed back to town.
It was a quiet trip. Father Bob broke the silence. “I will do a little research on this—very discreetly of course. You could do the same. I would use a library computer or an anonymous search engine—I don’t know if those really work, but it couldn’t hurt. I would like you to sketch the piece of jewelry and the guy if you can. I saw the apparition, but I don’t know how close it was to the real man.”
“I’m not much of an artist.”
“Okay, then a really good description. Describe the jewelry also, what it was made of—what kinds of stones it had on it. Take your time—you can get it to me in a couple of days.”
“Okay.”
“Also, keep q
uiet about everything. Since the cops aren’t going to pursue it, the fewer that know the better.”
“No kidding.”
“I’m going to try and look through obituaries for a thirty-something guy that died recently. I would say this group is from Vegas, but anywhere on the West Coast would be a good bet. I’ll take Vegas and San Francisco. You take LA and San Diego.”
“What about Reno?” The city was less than two hours away.
“It’s possible, but remember that old saying.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t shit where you eat.” He smiled at Tom; they were in front of Father Bob’s house. “Hey, get some rest. Don’t forget your penance.” He slammed the door and turned to his house. Tom watched him until he closed the door and then headed back to the ranch. He wanted to clean the place up before he picked up Cami and the kids.
Chapter 14
It was ten p.m. in Vegas and it was still simmering. They had hit one hundred and twelve today and the tourists on the strip had scurried from the shade of one casino to another, dodging the sun like ants avoiding a magnifying glass.
Susan arrived at the compound fifteen minutes early hoping to talk to Uncle in private. Since Ash had died, she was leader of the Vegas group, at least temporarily.
Uncle’s secretary, Davis, answered the door. He was a short, fat, bald man who wore thick glasses. He was intensely loyal to her uncle and had always resented Susan and Ash’s relationship with their uncle. “Susan,” he greeted her coolly, “your uncle has already gone up the hill.” She nodded and walked back around the house and began the ascent up the hill on a paved pathway.
It was a gradual incline and she was in excellent shape, but the dry heat and the bit of exercise had her perspiring instantly. There were secret meeting places all over Vegas, including one in the basement of his casino. Why they had to meet out here in the heat made her wonder. Perhaps Ash’s death had shaken him and he felt safer out here? She shook her head; she would never understand him.
The temperature dropped a few degrees near the top of the hill and the breeze helped a bit even though it was warm desert air. The meeting place was only a little further, at the summit. She stopped for a moment and turned to Vegas. She always stopped here on the path and looked at the place. And each time, the city was somewhat larger. It shone like a vulgar Christmas tree, and in the sky the planes set up to land were a string of blinking lights strung out in space. Most people might feel a surge of amazement, joy or dismay at such a huge, blinking metropolis, but Susan felt a mixture of power and pull of great things to come. Seven hundred new families a day poured into the city, not to mention all the tourists, migrants, whores, runaways, bums and criminals—it was a human feast for her organization. So many opportunities to recruit new members, harvest sacrifices and serve the One. And as he became more powerful, she, his servant, did so as well.
She pulled herself from the scene and climbed the last stretch to the meeting area. The place had been used for a long time, probably even before the casinos arrived. There was a stone altar in the middle of a level area that was stained dark with the years of blood and fire. From the hilltop, Vegas could be seen stretching out below, all roads leading to it filled with traffic, white headlights and red taillights seemingly endless. Her uncle had his back to her and stood at the edge of the cliff looking at the city. She had an urge to sneak up behind him and push him off. She resisted and instead walked over to join him. When she was about thirty feet from him, he spoke without turning. “Hello, Susan.”
It always got her how he could tell who was approaching or calling or arriving, or if a certain item would come in the mail that day. He had always had this gift. “Hello, Uncle,” she said as she joined him on the cliff edge. She stood out of reach, however, in case he felt like pushing her off. She doubted he would, unless he had read her impulse as she had approached him.
He was dressed in a black suit—even a tie in the unrelenting heat. In all the years she had known him, she had always seen him dressed this way. His idea of dressing down was removing his suit jacket.
“I want you to know I can handle being leader.” She turned to him, but he still stared at the city. “I want to be leader and I’m the most qualified.”
Richard Taylor glanced over at her. She was a beautiful, young woman. Tonight she had pulled her long blond hair up and secured it with black jeweled chopsticks. Her dress was black gauze, almost transparent, and it clung to her body seductively; she could have been a model if she wasn’t so tiny. Her physique belied the towering personality that was inside. Of all the members in the network of the group he trusted her least. She was dangerous, smart and willing to risk her life to advance her position and succeed in the group. No one really liked her. Of course, no one had liked Ash either, but when you looked into Ash’s eyes you shivered and knew without a doubt who he served. Susan was out for Susan, and although she served the One, you got the impression that she was competing with the One for his title rather than serving him.
“I’ve never had any doubts about what you want. Neither does the council. We must decide what’s best for the group however. That’s why you’re here tonight—for an interview and to join in the discussion.”
She bit her lip and remained silent. They both knew that he was one of the most powerful and respected members of the council and that his opinion held sway. If he wanted, he could ensure her leadership of the Vegas group, but Susan was not sure of what he wanted. She felt like screaming at him, hitting him, and her original impulse to push him off the cliff returned. Instead, she bummed a cigarette off him and walked back above the altar area and sat on a stone bench. From here she could view the city, see her uncle smoking at the edge of the cliff and watch the members as they climbed the path and greeted her uncle.
She stared at the old stained altar. It had not been used for at least twenty years, as far as she knew. The city had become too large and they had moved their sacrificial practices to more and more remote areas.
The group slowly trickled in. Most of them were in their late fifties, some older and a few younger. Susan was the youngest there. She had attended council meetings before, because she was second in command to Ash. But second in command was not automatically made leader should something happen to first in command. It was put to a vote before the council.
The attendees might have come from the UN as there was such diversity in race, but this was only the West Coast group council and the meeting was on such short notice that they were missing quite a few members. They dressed mostly in dark-colored business attire and looked the part of upper management types. A few nodded at Susan when they saw her on the bench, but most either didn’t see her or pretended not to see her, as they sought out her uncle and spoke a few words with him.
The meeting began. It was very informal, as there was no seating other than a few stone benches, and the people gathered close in a semicircle. Her uncle began the meeting with the pledge and tribute.
“We are here on short notice as you know, to elect a new street leader of Las Vegas. We also must decide on the best course of action in regards to Ash’s murderer. It has been many years since we have had any interference in our offerings … and the first time that I know of that we have lost a leader in such a way.” A buzz of voices ran through the crowd at this. “I want you to know that although some of you may think it favoritism, I support my niece for this position.” Susan stared at him as surprised as some of the others. “I believe her to be the best qualified for the immediate future. However”—he stared back at her—“I also suggest that her promotion be probationary and subject to review in six months or as needed.”
This was a bit of a snub, but Susan didn’t care. She was in and all she had to do was perform. It was all she needed; she felt like shouting but repressed her joy into a smile. Her mind drifted as the council approved her temporary status and then her uncle announced Ash’s funeral arrangements.
“We must decide the co
urse of action for Ash’s assailant,” her uncle continued.
“Do you believe this was just a chance happening?” a Chinese woman asked. Susan recognized her as a member from San Francisco.
“The man, according to Susan and our other members, appeared as surprised as the group was. He shot Ash and ran away. Thankfully, he didn’t harm anyone else in the group.”
“How come the group was unarmed and how did this man get away?” It was the little man with the big nose from Seattle, one of the richest men on the West Coast.
“We believe—” her uncle began.
“No, Richard,” the man cut him off. “Let Susan tell us. If she is going to lead Vegas, she needs to start now.” Very few in the group would cut off her uncle like that, but he graciously bowed his head and beckoned Susan into his place.
Susan moved into position. She was so short that most of the group could not see her. She heard someone mutter, “Get her a soapbox!” and some snickers. She ignored this and began, “Thank you for electing me leader of the Las Vegas group.”
“Temporary leader,” a voice in the crowd corrected.
“Ash was my brother and leader. I followed him without question. It seemed to Ash that the location was remote enough that we left the weapons with the lookouts. The country was extremely rugged. On the two previous occasions, when we were scouting the area, we saw no one and even the tire tracks heading in on the roads were very old. When this cowboy popped up and shot Ash, we were stunned. We did not know if there were more shooters, if he was going to shoot again, or what. The country was rugged, as I said before, and he escaped on horseback. He was out of sight before any of us could get around the rocks. This was the first attack on one of our groups in years. We were in shock; we have lost a great leader. This was a costly lesson, but we must realize it could have been much worse. I have written a report to guide all of our members. The procedures inside will help members in this type of unexpected event. I will send a copy of this report to each of you for your review. Please advise me on any comments or additions you may have.”
The Sacrifice Page 7