The Devil's Game

by Daniel Patterson

  James smiled. There was actually a bit of restoration and repair work to do around the church that he hadn’t been able to get to. It would be nice to have someone willing to do some of that work, and the church’s funds could certainly afford a part-time handyman. “Well. I’m sure we can find something for you, Daniel. When could you start?”

  “Today, actually.” The young man ran a hand over the blond stubble on his chin.

  “Well, first I’ll have to clear it with the deacons, but I don’t see why hiring you will be a problem. I’ve got a few errands I need to run this afternoon. Can you meet me at the church at three? I’ll have a long list of chores for you, I promise.”

  “Great!” Daniel said. “Thank you so much!”

  “You’re quite welcome,” James told him.

  “How about me?” A familiar voice asked. “Am I welcome?”

  Simon Paradis.

  “Move over, Sonny,” Simon said to Daniel.

  “Actually, I’ve got things to do . . .” Daniel said standing.

  “I’m sure you do,” Simon remarked.

  “Enjoy your breakfast, Reverend,” Daniel said as he slid out of the booth and hurried away.

  “You know your problem, Reverend?” Simon said as he helped himself to James’ plate of eggs, bacon, toast, and hash browns.

  “It’s pretty clear yes,” James said.

  Simon speared a forkful of hash browns and stuffed it into his mouth, talking as he chewed, bits of food falling out. “Your problem is this . . .” The man swallowed and grinned. “You think too much.”

  There were bits of egg hanging in Simon’s graying goatee. The long black coat he always wore was snugly in place, still frayed around the collar and cuffs. Actually it looked a little more worn and the fedora he wore over his long black hair looked scuffed and threadbare.

  “You’re looking a bit run down there, Simon,” James said to him.

  Gutsy to trade insults. But even if in his soul he had a healthy fear of what this man was, God stood with him and he would not back down again.

  Simon shrugged at his comment. “Nothing a healthy meal can’t fix.” He picked up a strip of bacon with his fingers and crunched down on it. “Needs ketchup,” he mumbled. Picking the bottle up from the table, he unscrewed the top and banged the bottom with the flat of his hand, making ketchup pour out all over the plate, soaking everything. “There. That’s better.”

  His stomach turned watching the man eat. It was like watching a trash compactor with a loose gear. “Simon, did you want something?”

  “Yes, Coffee.” Reaching over to James’ side of the table, he picked up the cup that James had been drinking from and took a long swallow of it. “Ah. Yuck. You don’t use sugar? Cream? Anything? It’s so . . . bitter.”

  James couldn’t believe what had just happened. Had the devil actually stolen his breakfast and then his coffee? And complained about it? “I thought you had left town,” James said.

  “No, you didn’t!” Simon shoveled in more food, ketchup blobbing at the corners of his mouth.

  “Well. I was hoping you left, anyway.”

  “You know the thing about hope?” Simon asked. “Faith is the substance of things hoped for. Without faith, hope is . . . well, like an empty paper sack—light and easy to carry but absolutely useless. You give people faith to carry in that bag though and now they’ve got something that matters. Now they’ve got something that can make them dangerous. Because then, with that faith, they start believing they can do things.”

  “They can. People are capable of doing amazing things when they act in faith,” James told him. It was one of the reasons he had accepted this job here, so far away from home. Faith had led him here—into a conflict with a man that thinks he’s the devil.

  “See, right there’s what I’m talking about, Reverend.” Simon pushed a strip of bacon into his mouth and then talked around it as he chewed. “You give people faith. The way you live your life, the way you talk to people gives them hope, faith and strength and . . . blah . . . blah . . . blah. It’s really quite annoying. I’m trying to do my work here and everywhere I turn, there you are.” Simon’s face twisted. “How am I supposed to get anything done?”

  “You’re not,” James said flatly.

  Simon took another pull from the coffee cup, winced at the bitter taste and offered the cup to James. James shook his head. “No, thank you.”

  Simon shrugged and finished off what was left in the cup. “Look. You’re a good guy. I get that. You want to do good things. I get that too. I’m not that much different from you in that respect. It’s just that what I think is good for people and what you think is good for people . . . they’re two different things.”

  “Right. I want people to live. You want them to die.”

  “Not all of them,” Simon said with a wave of his hand. “I need to keep a few around. The world would be pretty boring without people. But that’s not my point.”

  “Then what is?” James could have stood up and just walked out. Should have, but he wanted to hear what this obviously disturbed man had to say. To know how to stop whatever scheme Simon was up to, he’d have to hear the man out.

  “My point is this. You and I are opposing forces here in Harmony. I want one thing, you want another. It’s just not working out. So I want you to leave.”

  James laughed. “I’m not going anywhere. Why don’t you leave?”

  Egg fell from the man’s mouth as he smiled. “Because I’m not done yet. It won’t be much longer until I’m finished. I promise. Why don’t you go on a vacation? Say, two weeks? Then come back. I promise you that if you leave for that long, when you come back I’ll be gone.”

  “No,” James said.

  A shadow crossed over Simon’s face and settled behind his eyes. “You keep saying that word to me, priest, and I’ll have to cut your tongue out.”

  Ah. There was the devil’s true nature. “No,” James repeated, “I’m not leaving. No, you can’t have this town for two weeks. Not two days, not two minutes. No.”

  The fork in Simon’s hand was slowly bent double as he made a fist.

  “Well, no matter,” Simon said suddenly with a smile. “I tried. It’s too bad about Amy, isn’t it?”

  James blinked.

  “What about Amy?” he asked. He hated playing into Simon’s hands, but if he was going to do anything to Amy . . .

  “I just mean she was so looking forward to marrying you. Someday, I mean. In the future. Ah, the future you two would have had together! And now she’ll be dead.”

  Anger rose in James, like bile burning up the back of his throat. “You will not lay a hand on her! You hear me Simon?”

  Simon held up his hands, palms facing James, in a gesture of appeasement. “Not me. I won’t lay a hand on anyone. But this whole town is going to die. I am offering you a way to save yourself and your new friend. But if you won’t take it, she can die with the rest.”

  With a smile, Simon picked up the plate. And licked it clean.

  Finished with his, or rather James’, breakfast, Simon stood up and smoothed the worn lapels of his coat. “This is wearing a little thin, isn’t it? Guess I should be done with it. Soon.” He looked at James for a long moment and then tipped his hat, turned and walked away. “See you, priest.”

  If Simon was worried enough to try to bargain to get James to leave town, then he must see James as . . . what? Some kind of threat? A stumbling block to his plans? Whatever it was, James took heart from it. It was something to hold on to. However, he still didn’t know what Simon was up to or actually capable of, other than wanting to hurt as many people here as he could.

  Including Amy.

  Leaving was not an option. He had to stay and stop Simon and save the people in Harmony from the devil’s works. All of the people. Amy included.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “AND THAT’S WHAT HE said?” Branson asked James, as they sat in Branson’s comfortable office in the back of the church and
shared lunch. It was a cozy space with dark wood paneling and a bright white rug. The furniture was heavy and the chairs were plush. James figured that because Branson had been here in town for more than twenty years now, ministering the faith to people, he’d had plenty of time to decorate.

  “Why don’t you go on a vacation? Say, two weeks? Just like that?” Branson continued.

  “Yes, in exactly those words. I don’t know what he has planned. But it’s enough that he wants me gone while he does it.”

  “So, what do you think he’s up to?” Branson asked, offering James another glass of lemonade.

  “I don’t really know. That’s the thing that bothers me. He has a way of getting into people’s minds. The way Ben and Sally looked at me—looked through me when he was there. And then those articles I found at the library. I’m worried. I have no clue what he could do. And I’m unable to warn anyone because he’s probably just crazy. I feel so frustrated. So useless.” James had no appetite for the roast beef sandwich Branson had prepared.

  “Maybe that’s Simon’s game, old friend,” Branson suggested. “Maybe he’s got some grudge against religious folks. Maybe he’s looking for you to run around with your hands in the air screaming about how the devil’s coming and everyone needs to get out. Cause a wave of panic. Maybe he just wants to discredit you and make you look like a fool.”

  James peeled a piece of bread off his sandwich and chewed on it. Branson’s suggestion made sense. There were people out there who had turned away from God and looked down on those who believed. Still . . . “I don’t know. I get the impression that he really wants me out of the way for something.”

  “Okay, okay. But then, what?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” James leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had time to stop and think. The church, the community, I even had a guy this morning looking for work—”

  James stopped suddenly and looked at the clock on the wall. “Oh, no. Oh, Branson, I totally forgot. I need to get back to the church. I’m supposed to be meeting someone. Can we talk more about this later?”

  “Of course,” Branson stood with James and walked him to the door. “We’ll figure this out, James. Don’t worry.”

  James shook Branson’s hand, but would he be able to take his advice?

  Chapter Eighteen

  JAMES PULLED INTO THE church parking lot just in time to see Daniel walking away, his hands stuffed deeply into his heavy green jacket. When Daniel saw James driving in, he stopped short.

  “I was afraid that I was going to miss you,” James said to Daniel, closing the car door behind him. “I’m sorry. I got caught up in a meeting.”

  Daniel shook his head. “It’s okay, Reverend. I know you’re a busy man. I’m not surprised you didn’t have time for me.”

  Daniel’s words were like a slap in the face. A gentle slap, but a slap just the same.

  “Daniel, it’s not like that, really. I told you I had errands. One of them was to get the okay from the deacons, and I did. We’d love to have your help around here. Let’s go inside and we’ll get started, okay?”

  But Daniel was shaking his head before James even finished speaking. “Thanks, Reverend. But, I’m a busy man now too. While I was waiting here for you, someone else came up and offered me a job, starting right away. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

  There was no mistaking the anger in Daniel’s voice.

  James said, “Well, I’m glad you found work, but I’m still sorry I was late.” He reached out a hand to Daniel’s shoulder.

  Daniel jerked away. “Don’t. I’m good, Reverend. Really. Don’t worry about me.”

  He turned and walked briskly away, leaving James watching after him.

  “Did you know,” Simon said from James’ elbow, “that if you spell devil backward it spells out ‘lived?’”

  James jumped a little to have the man appear like that, even though he’d experienced it a couple of times now.

  “So, the opposite of your name is a good thing?” James replied, not turning his eyes away from Daniel. “I’m pretty sure I already knew that.”

  Simon laughed out loud. “See, that’s why I like you, Reverend! You actually stand up to me. It won’t do you any good, but it’s nice that you try. I’m so used to mealy-mouthed religious advisors who talk a good talk but then back down the minute I show up. You, you’re something special.”

  James shook his head. “What are you doing here, Simon? I have work to do. That man down the street there needs my help.”

  Simon made a show of turning to see Daniel still walking away, and then turned back with that same predatory smile on his face. “No, Daniel is going to be fine. I asked him to do some more work for me, seeing how his local church couldn’t help him out. Seems the Reverend was too busy with other things.”

  “You gave him work?”

  “Oh, James, you really don’t understand me at all, do you? I have so much a man like Daniel could do for me. Just like his uncle did, back in his younger days.”

  “Samuel? You know Samuel?”

  “Oh, those were the times! Samuel Stirling and me, we were quite a team, in the day. Before he found religion and got all high and mighty on me.” Simon turned his head and spat on the front lawn of the church. “This boy could be quite the little helper for me. Like for instance, the front steps of my house are loose. I’ve heard he does a real bang up job.”

  “Steps. That’s what you came over here for?”

  Simon just tapped his watch, smiled, then turned and walked away.

  Chapter Nineteen

  SAMUEL HADN’T ATTENDED SERVICES last Sunday and James suddenly couldn’t help but wonder if everything were okay. He got into his car and drove over to check on him.

  He was pleased to see that the mobile home had been freshly painted and the roof had been repaired. The lawn was tidy and some new begonias were in full bloom. A stack of lumber was in the driveway—most likely materials for the new front porch Daniel had promised. But still, something was out of place. Something didn’t feel . . . right. Stepping out of the Jetta, he looked along the front of the house at the drawn drapes in the windows and at the newspaper still sitting out on the front porch waiting to be collected. He went up to the front door to knock.

  No answer.

  He knocked again. Then rang the bell. He could hear it buzzing from inside.

  Still nothing.

  “Samuel?” he called out. He tried to see through the window in the middle of the front door, but found a curtain drawn across that, too.

  He tried the handle. It was unlocked.

  Pushing the door inward, he took a few steps inside. “Samuel?” he called again. “Samuel, it’s me. It’s Pastor Buchman. Are you home?”

  A cough came from the living room. The smell of cigarette smoke filled the air. There were no lights on. With the drapes drawn it was difficult to see anything at all. What was usually a bright and sunny room was now a dark space. James saw vague shapes that had to be a couch, the older style bulky television on the entertainment stand and the rest of the furnishings. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he spotted the recliner where Samuel was sitting.

  The elderly man had his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, rocking himself silently. James could just make out that the man was in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. The faintly unpleasant aroma that told him Samuel hadn’t bathed in a few days.

  “Samuel?”

  Samuel’s head turned toward him. “Who’s there?” he said in a weak, strained voice.

  James approached Samuel and knelt by his chair. “Samuel, it’s Pastor Buchman.”

  On a side table, next to the recliner, were seven lit cigarettes burning in a glass ashtray. James extinguished the cigarettes one by one. “Samuel, I thought you quit smoking? Is everything okay?”

  Samuel laughed softly, in a sound with no mirth behind it. “No. Not okay. It’s so dark out.”

&n
bsp; “Dark? Samuel, it’s mid-afternoon. It’s beautiful outside. The sun is out, the sky is clear. It’s a nice, warm day. Why don’t you let me open these curtains and we can talk about it, all right?”

  “No!” Samuel protested, a slim hand reaching out to grab at James’ shirt. “That is not the kind of dark I’m talking about.”

  James gently took Samuel’s hand and held it. “Tell me what’s happened, Samuel.”

  “Daniel’s gone.”

  “Gone? I thought he was staying with you—”

  “There’s an evil in our town, Reverend!”

  “Samuel,” he said gently, “Samuel, what do you mean when you say there’s evil in our town?”

  The old man looked at him. James couldn’t see his eyes in the gloom, but somehow he imagined they were wide and staring. “The devil. The devil’s out there.”

  The words shocked James. He had never known Samuel’s mind to be anything other than sharp. Was this a case of senility settling in? Well, the devil is in town, according to Simon. There was that small detail. But that wasn’t something he could very well share with an old man already frightened out of his wits.

  “What happened with Daniel, Samuel? Did he do something to make you afraid of him?”

  “It’s not his fault,” said Samuel. “He’s a nice boy. But he’s messed up now.”

  James sighed. “A lot of soldiers come home troubled.”

  “He came home fine!” hissed Samuel. “But now he’s got a new friend . . .”

  James was startled at the sudden fury in the old man’s voice. He stood and looked around the room. It was still tidy as usual, but he noticed the refreshment tray on the coffee table. It was set for three. “Samuel,” he asked, picking up one of the cups and finding it cold to the touch, “was there someone else here to visit you?”

  Samuel nodded his head a few times and pointed to the wall near the television. “Him.”

  James’ brow creased in confusion and growing worry for Samuel. He liked this old man. During the time he’d served as pastor of New Hope Church, he had gotten to know Samuel pretty well. Sure, he had done some things as a young man that no one would be proud of—things that had sent him to prison for a number of years. But Samuel had done his time and come out a changed man, rededicating his life to God. The Samuel of today was nothing like the Samuel that had existed all those years ago.