Goodbye Lucifer

by John Harold McCoy

  * * *

  Melanie sat on the sofa in the living room with Claudia and a rather bewildered Louis. She’d been in the kitchen staring curiously out the window at the sudden onslaught of wind and rain when Claudia brought Louis up from the basement. Surprised, at first, that Claudia had exposed Louis to what was going on downstairs; she now felt relief that the cat was out of the bag, so to speak. The “don’t ask, don’t tell” thing with her father was something she had never felt comfortable with. It always amazed her that her mother had been able to sustain it for a whole lifetime.

  As for Louis, his acceptance of life with the women of Brandell Valley had been ingrained since birth. It was simply the way it was. But what he’d seen in the basement—that was just too weird. Actual demons and devils were a far cry from what he’d always imagined as normal, everyday, valley mystique, and now that the initial shock had worn off he was getting a little pissed.

  “All these years…” he accused, “…years, hell, centuries! The devil—the actual, bona fide, in the flesh devil—has been sitting up there,” he pointed in the general direction of the springs, “…on a rock.”

  “No, Dad,” soothed Melanie. “just a few hours a month.”

  Louis threw his hands up and exclaimed, mockingly, “Oh! Excuse me! …just a few hours a month. Jesus Melanie!” He dropped his hands and waited for somebody to comment. The few resulting moments of awkward silence were interrupted by muffled thunder—and the sound of John Simmons’ ungraceful encounter with the veranda door.