Mary ignored the weapon and mocked him with a fake yawn.
Peepers clenched his teeth and fists and stomped his way back to her. He leaned down and jerked the knife from the floor. He stood above her and snorted hot breath in her face. “Very well, you have nothing more to offer Peepers. Mary dies now. Your clown follows this night.”
She snickered as she met his intense stare. “Then my promise to him will be fulfilled. I’ll be there to guide him to the light. But your soul will remain eternally damned to hell.” She lowered her head as a peaceful, closed-lip smile filled her soul.
“Foolish beliefs,” he said as he stepped back. His left hand raised the knife above his head. Mary’s eyelids closed as she enjoyed one last blissful breath of a joy-filled life.
Just as Peepers was about to run the blade down to her head, he stammered, “What is this?” He looked up to his hand still holding the weapon above. The knife and half of his arm were fading from the solid form of the rest of his body. Mary opened her eyes. Peepers stepped aside to make sense of his situation. In the kitchen behind him, Mary spotted a ghostly image of a large black woman in servant’s clothing standing beside the table. Her left hand was placed on the figure of Peepers. It took on the solid mass lost in Peepers’ own hand and arm.
“Lailah!” Mary shouted. Peepers turned to see the spirit interfering with his kill. He turned back to Mary and took the translucent knife into his right hand, where it instantly returned solid. Without haste, he raised the blade. Once again, the knife and his arm faded to a ghostly state.
Lailah now stood with both hands grasping the figure. As the powers contained within the figure drained and weakened Peepers, Lailah’s image also transformed. Not only was she gaining mass to match that of Peepers, but Mary also noticed a dramatic change in her physical appearance. Her soft brown skin turned ghastly gray. Her nose swelled and turned coal black. Her hair stood on end, popping out from the sides of her bonnet. Even her clothes changed from plain and drab to a field of dark polka dots. The evil energy which gave Peepers his form was taking hold of Lailah’s very soul.
“No, Lailah! You have to stop before it’s too late. It’s not worth the price,” Mary pleaded.
Temporarily abandoning his mission to kill Mary, Peepers’ half-solid image rushed toward Lailah. She let go of his figure and snarled back at him as he leapt the last ten feet. With his body aimed directly at her, she made no effort to avoid his tackle. A collision was imminent. His semi-solid, outstretched hands were inches from her throat when Lailah pulled a cast iron skillet from behind her back and gave his face a forceful undercut. Peepers’ stunned body fell to the floor. Lailah rushed to Mary’s side.
Dazed, Peepers rose to his feet and turned.
“Lailah, why?” Mary said.
Lailah growled, showing her newly acquired pointed teeth. She shook evil thoughts from her head and warned Mary. “Nobody gonna hurt my children. But you must leave, child, before the evil becomes too powerful for Lailah to protect you. Dis boy’s evil too powerful for Miss Lailah to overcome.” She turned and raised her hand toward the door. It opened. Peepers locked on his target and snorted as his paced quickened. Lailah looked back to Mary. “He comin’ for me now. You run while you can, child.”
Lailah stepped deeper into the living room, away from Mary’s side. Peepers’ focus on the pair split and locked on Lailah.
“Peepers feast on your soul,” he grunted. Lailah submissively backed into the far corner of the room. He stopped to enjoy his power over her spirit. She leaned to the side and hollered out to Mary, “Run, child!”
Peepers turned to watch Mary run toward the door. He laughed and returned his attention to Lailah. “Cannot escape death. Peepers not confined to this house.” His hands returned to solid form, and he reached out to Lailah’s neck and squeezed. He lifted her choking body off the floor. She gasped as she tried to free herself by slapping and grabbing his locked hands. A fine mist began to emanate from her mouth. Peepers opened his own mouth and began sucking it toward him. He was attempting to suck her soul. She was too weak to resist the black hole’s energy as her essence was being pulled closer to the void.
A loud crash from behind broke Peepers’ grip. He dropped Lailah and his body flickered and faded in and out. Before he completely evaporated, he turned to see Mary bent over the kitchen floor, pulverizing his figure with multiple blows from a hammer.
With nothing but dust and small shards remaining, Mary dropped the hammer and ran to Lailah. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Lailah smiled and stood. Her body began to fade. As she faded, color returned to her face. Her nose remained clown-like in size, but now it was bright red. Her clothing also remained clownish in appearance, but the colorless polka dots transformed into every vibrant color of the rainbow. Both watched as she transformed in front of them into a happy clown caretaker. Lailah let out a hardy laugh of approval of her new look. Mary returned a smile.
“He’s gone, but it looks like both of us were left with scars from the battle,” Mary said.
As Lailah’s image continued to deteriorate, she smiled and turned away. Among the field of multicolored polka dots on the back of her dress, Mary noticed a single black dot halfway down Lailah’s right leg. Instantly, Mary reached down and looked at the back of her own leg. The mole was gone. She looked up, and Lailah was also gone.
Chapter 30
Dale stepped through the open door to a room at the back of the church. Father Harris was leading prayers at the altar. Dale spotted Cheryl and the kids sitting in the center of a pew in the middle of the church, with people blocking them on both sides. Aside from the curious choice in location, she looked fine. She was safe, and she didn’t appear to be agitated or anxious to leave.
He slipped outside and dialed his cell phone.
“Alan, I’m outside the church. I just looked in and Cheryl’s fine. I think your imagination is getting the best of you, brother. There’s nothing wrong.”
“She’s in the church?” Alan asked.
“Yes, it’s Sunday. She always goes to church on Sunday.”
“I know what day it is. Does she have her purse with her? It might be in her purse,” Alan said.
“No, I doubt it. She doesn’t like to bring it in with her because of all the sitting, standing, and kneeling BS. She doesn’t want to keep looking over her shoulder because it would look like she doesn’t trust people. That’s true, but she doesn’t want to send that message in church,” Dale replied. “But wait, what’s it matter? She’s fine. Everyone is fine. I’m more concerned about you right now. I know that you think there’s some sort of paranormal thing going on here, but you need to listen to me now. I’m going to call for backup to meet me at the carnival so we can pick up that Geno guy.”
“You can’t do that!” Alan yelled. “Look, just do one thing before you make that call. Check her purse in the car and see if it’s there. If it’s not there, well, maybe you’re right. Maybe I am losing my mind. But if it is there, destroy it. Don’t leave it. Destroy it and wait for me at the carnival. I have to take care of a couple more figures, but I’ll be there as soon as possible. Just wait for me.”
Dale started walking through the parking lot, searching for Cheryl’s car. “Fine, Alan. But if it’s not there, I’m calling for help and we won’t wait for you.”
“And if it is there?” Alan asked.
“Well, if it is there, I’ll destroy it as you asked.”
“And no call for help?” Alan said.
“Fine, I won’t call for help. How would I even begin to explain any of this? They would think I was as crazy as I’m thinking you are. Just get there quick because if they call me out somewhere else, I’ll have to go.”
Dale hung up and stepped up to the passenger door of Cheryl’s car. Through the window he saw her purse half tucked under the passenger seat. Sticking out from the opening was the top portion of the Agor figure with his head tilted, appearing to be looking back at Dale with
a sinister grin. Stunned at the sight, Dale jumped back before returning and yanking on the door handle. The door was locked and he didn’t have the spare key with him. The car was parked along the edge of the lot where a line of mature trees shaded the first few rows of parked cars. Roots from the nearest tree raised broken chunks of concrete. Dale picked up a softball size piece of rubble and stood beside the passenger door.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he whispered before pitching the rock into the window of his wife’s car. The window repelled the blow, bouncing the jagged stone into his groin before dropping on his foot and tumbling under the car.
“Son of a bitch!” he said, hunched over with both hands clutching his crotch as he hopped around in a small circle on one foot before resting against the car. He looked around to be sure nobody witnessed his embarrassment. His attention returned to the window, where he noticed a small blemish where the rock struck. As he rubbed his finger over the spot, his focus shifted to movement inside the vehicle. The purse was opened and something moved on the floor in front of it. It was the figure of Agor. He was rolling on the floor laughing, with one hand on his stomach and the other pointing directly at Dale.
“What the fuck?” Dale said as he stood locked in a frozen stare at the sight before him. “Alan was right.”
The Agor figure leapt up to the passenger seat and continued to mock Dale by sticking his thumbs in his ears, wiggling his fingers, and making raspberry sounds with his protruded tongue.
Dale snapped out of his trance and reached for the rock under the car. He stood and took aim again as Agor mimicked his movement from the other side of the glass. With all of his might, Dale flung it and jumped to the side to avoid further injury. Again the stone bounced away, leaving barely a mark on the window. Inside, Agor’s laughter subsided. He leaned up to the glass, wagging his finger.
“Cheryl will pay the price for your aggression,” he called out through the glass.
Dale didn’t understand his threat. Then, from over his right shoulder, the words came again. “Cheryl will pay the price.”
Dale spun around to see a life-sized replica of the creepy clown figure wagging his finger and smiling. Dale backed against the car. The clown lowered his hand and began walking away toward the church. Before Dale could move to stop him, three more Agors appeared, all different sizes and shapes. They, too, fell into formation and sauntered toward the church.
“What’s going on? Where the hell did they come from?” Dale stammered. More figures began appearing, popping up around the car, one after another. Within seconds, an army of short, tall, fat, thin, and everything in between Agors were headed for the church. He didn’t understand why they didn’t come after him, but he knew Cheryl was in danger if he didn’t stop them.
Dale ignored the figures continuing to appear all around him. He glared back at the small figure inside the car. Agor’s arms were crossed over his chest as he shot Dale a smug look. Dale glanced back at the lead character in the procession heading toward the church. A multitude of colorful duplicates closed in on him as he stepped closer to the door with his hand reaching for the handle.
“It’s too late now. Cheryl will pay for your aggression toward Agor and the Guild of Fallen Clowns,” Agor said from inside the car. The clown’s hand grasped the handle and pulled. Dale’s right hand went to his hip. He pulled out his pistol and took aim at the window. Agor gulped and his face turned sour. Without hesitation, Dale fired off a round. The bullet smashed through the glass and shattered the figure inside, peppering the interior with fragments of Agor. Dale looked back to the church. The mob had vanished; the only movement was the front door swinging closed.
Returning to his squad car, Dale noticed a crowd forming outside the church, looking for the source of the loud gunshot. He had to pass on his way to the exit. As he drove by, Cheryl and the kids ran down the steps toward him. She held the kids back and waved him down. He stopped the car and lowered the passenger window for her to lean in.
“What was that noise? Was it you? Are you okay?” she said.
“Calm down. Everything is okay. I found out about that thing that’s been haunting you. It’s okay now. You’re safe. I took care of it.”
Cheryl looked behind her to be sure nobody was nearby. Then she leaned through the open window and whispered, “How did you know? It said it would hurt the kids if I told anyone or tried to destroy it. Are you sure we’re safe now?”
Dale smiled. “Yes, it can’t hurt anyone. You’re safe.”
“Dale?” Father Harris said as he approached from behind Cheryl.
“Oh crap, Cheryl. I can’t stick around. Tell Father Harris everything is okay. Oh, and you might want to park the car in the garage. You’ll understand why in a minute.” He shooed her with his hand. “Now back up, I gotta go.” He pressed on the gas and waved to the priest as he drove off.
*****
Alan switched off the hair dryer and lowered it to his kitchen table. Held in his other hand was his latest figure, still tacky from a rushed paint job. Examining his work, he sighed and looked at its face. “I hope I’m right about this.” He paused, then nodded and bent over, tucking the figure in a gym bag on the floor beside him.
He stood from the table and paced the room, the whole time second-guessing his decision to create another figure. What will happen if I’m wrong? Will more people get hurt? I can’t take that chance. But what will happen if I don’t use him? Will I be strong enough to do this on my own? he thought.
Then he stopped pacing and stared at the bag. “Stop it, Alan!” he said with gritted teeth. “Your gut took you this far. Don’t overthink this. Trust your instinct and go for it.” With that, he confidently walked across the room and snatched up the bag. He opened his front door and marched across the hall to Lyle’s apartment where he stood, shoulders back, and pounded out three assertive knocks.
Deep base sounds of stomping feet announced Lyle’s approach. Alan centered his face to the peephole, his chin lifted and his fingers and hands flexed tighter over the bag’s strap handles. The pounding stopped. The pinhole of light eclipsed as Lyle peered through to see Alan standing outside. Light returned. The door handle rattled. Lyle fiddled with the lock and the door swung open.
“Hey, Alan, c’mon in,” he said. Alan stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “What’s up?” Lyle said. “Is it your car? Is there a problem with the glass?”
Alan put his hand up. “No, it’s not that. I’m sure the car is fine.”
“Did you notice what I did?” Lyle said. Alan looked puzzled by the question. “I fixed your door lock for you. Your remote works on all the doors again.”
“Oh…thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
“It was nothing. I already had the panel off to replace the glass. It was a two-second fix.”
“Great, thanks.”
Lyle smiled. “Oh, you want a beer?” he said. He didn’t wait for a reply and headed toward the kitchen. “I know it’s a little early, but what the hell? It’s my day off,” Lyle continued.
“No. Thanks, but not now. I’d love to have some beers with you another time, but that’s not why I’m here.”
Lyle stopped and turned to face Alan. “Okay, sure, another time for the beer. So, uh, then why are you here?” Lyle asked nervously.
Alan’s head rotated, scanning the apartment.
“What?” Lyle said. “What are you looking for?”
Alan’s gaze stopped and locked. Pressed in the corner of the couch, he saw it. Spanky’s figure appeared to observe his creator’s curiosity.
“That!” Alan replied. He walked toward it as Lyle protested. “No, Alan, please don’t make him mad.”
It was too late. Alan grabbed the figure and raised it over his head.
“Do it and your friend dies.” Alan looked for the source of the threat. Standing behind Lyle, Spanky stood on one foot, his giant hands loose around Lyle’s neck.
“Please, Alan,” Lyle plead
ed. “He’ll do it. He’ll kill me if you don’t put it down and leave.”
With Spanky’s figure still held over his head, Alan met Spanky’s glare as he leaned down and felt around for the opening of his bag.
“What are you doing? Don’t test me, I will kill him,” Spanky said. His grip on Lyle’s neck tightened.
Alan’s fingers found the figure inside the bag. He grabbed it and stood. Spanky watched as Alan held it out in front of him.
“Is that what I think it is?” Spanky laughed. “Poppy? You really think that loser can protect you from me?” He took his hands off Lyle’s neck and replaced them with his arm. Lyle’s face turned red from the pressure.
“What are you doing?” Lyle squeaked. “Don’t you think one is enough?”
Alan smiled and tossed the figure through the air. “Catch it, Lyle!” he yelled.
Lyle instinctively reached out and caught the figure. Realizing what he did, he flung it to the floor.
“Ha! What else you got?” Spanky jeered.
“Just put it down and go away, Alan. Please,” Lyle whimpered.
Spanky continued laughing and Alan began lowering his figure to the couch beside him.
“Okay, don’t hurt him,” Alan said.
A tapping on Spanky’s shoulder silenced his amusement. He turned, releasing his hold on Lyle. Lyle fell to the floor and scurried beside Alan. They both watched as Spanky stepped to the side, revealing another person in the room.
“Dad!” Lyle shouted. The burly man grinned at Lyle and replied, “Stinky.”
Although the situation was still extremely dangerous and volatile, Alan couldn’t help himself. He snorted and repeated the nickname Lyle’s father had for him. “Stinky? That’s rich.”
Lyle glanced up at Alan and blushed. “I was a kid.” His attention turned back to his father. “But this is impossible. You’re dead!”
The image of Lyle’s father shrugged his shoulders. Then he looked directly into Spanky’s eyes and said, “Nobody screws with my kid.” He moved to block Spanky from his son and held out his fists as a warning.
Spanky was a great deal larger than Lyle’s scruffy father. He took one hop closer and challenged him to give him his best shot. While the two spirits took their positions, Alan managed to avoid detection by retrieving Spanky’s figure. He held it behind his back and waited for an opportunity to destroy it without Spanky’s interference.
The Guild of Fallen Clowns Page 32