"Fill the bathtub," Gab said. She slipped her arms under her daughter's body, ignoring the heat as she hoisted her from the mattress.
Preceding her down the hallway, Althea stepped into the narrow white porcelain bathroom and turned the COLD handle as far as it would go. Water began to pool in the tub as she shoved the stopper into place, and she pushed herself back against the wall to make way for Gab, who was struggling with her child's weight.
Quickly Gab knelt at the tub's edge, lowering Heaven into the rising water. It almost began to sizzle as her form submerged.
"Better get more ice," Gab said. "Just bring all the trays."
In the living room, Terry looked up as Althea passed him, but she moved on before he could ask more questions.
As she returned to the bathroom with the vat of ice cubes, she could feel heat emanating from the tub. It seemed as if she were approaching a small room in which a space heater had been left on for too long, and when she stepped inside she found the air thick and difficult to breath.
As she dumped the ice cubes, steam began to rise. Gab dipped her hand into the water and splashed it onto Heaven's face.
Althea began to help her, cradling the child's head with one hand as she tried to open the COLD faucet more.
Her own face was flushed, and beneath her blouse perspiration was showering through her pores. About to collapse from the heat, she pulled back, desperate for a breath of fresh air.
Gab's scream forced her to shake the confusion from her head and look up. Spontaneous combustion? The shower curtain was on fire.
“Can it be that hot in here?" Gab shouted.
Althea ripped down the curtain and stomped, but before it had stopped smoldering, fingers of flame shot upward, licking up the slick tile to the painted plaster where they found fuel.
Blue and yellow sheets of flame blanketed the ceiling in an instant. Gab looked up to see Terry standing in the doorway.
"Run," she commanded. He didn't disobey, but he didn't get far either. Just as he was turning, he collided with Danube who now stood framed in the doorway.
Gently setting the boy aside, he stepped across the room, kneeling beside the tub. He placed a thumb on Heaven's forehead and began to recite a blessing.
Steam continued to rise, and the flames began to eat away at the ceiling above, but he was not swayed from his task as Althea and Gab moved back to give him room.
"Demon from the pit of hell, I order you back into the nightmare from which you have come!" he said. "You are being summoned by one force, but by the power of the Creator of all things I command you back."
Heaven sputtered, but her face remained flushed, and the flames continued.
Ignoring the rising heat, Danube gently submerged Heaven, continuing his prayer of blessing. Above him, bits of the covering for the ceiling began to peel and flutter down in snowflakes of flame that had burned to brittle black ash before touching the floor.
"We've got to get her out of here," Gab said.
"That will do no good," Danube shouted. "The flames are emanating from the demon. Taking her out of here won't take us away from the fire."
Reaching around his neck, he pulled a rosary free. For a moment the cross made him hesitate, think of his father, think of a thousand things. Then he quickly draped it around the girl's neck. It might help, provide one more obstacle for the summoning.
He looked around then and saw them, a dozen of them. They were standing on the counter by the sink, atop the toilet, along the wall; snarling little monsters, laughing at him as their leader gently chanted.
He had not seen them when he had entered, and he knew Gab and Althea could not see them at all. They were amused by that, and some of them made gestures and lewd faces in front of Gab, celebrating her being unaware.
Shaking free of his raincoat, Danube wheeled around to face the leader, the one Heaven would have called Gnelf Master. He knew it to be the chief kesilim, the fooling spirit that led these others who had been charged by someone to torment this child.
"You'll kill her," Danube warned.
The kesilim only laughed, and continued its chant.
"Do you see it?" Gab screamed.
"I see the form it has here, the form it is using," Danube said. "It is a hideous version of the creatures in your child's book."
The being opened its mouth wide in a grin then, shaking a playful finger at Danube.
A piece of the ceiling sagged away from the beams, dangling from the corner of the room near the doorway, more sparks and fluttering bits of flame raining down from it.
Danube ignored them, ignored the smoke, ignored the heat as he faced the beings before him.
"Where are they?" Gabrielle asked.
"I can't see them," Althea said.
The water in the tub almost reached boiling point. Bubbles began to spew up over the edge, splattering hot droplets of liquid about the room while at the same time flames continued to eat away the ceiling.
"Let the girl go," Danube commanded. "You were sent here, not summoned. I command you to leave."
The Gnelfs laughed. "You command us?" the leader asked.
"In the name of God."
The Gnelf laughed. "You sought to kill God."
"Not I. I am sanctified now. There is no blood for which I am responsible."
"None at all." From out of the air, Gnelf Master snatched something, then held it in front of him. It was a small pouch, and the movement created the sounds of coins rattling.
"Does this not haunt your nightmares, oh sanctified one? Are you proud of your past, holy man?”
“Leave," Danube demanded.
"We've got to get Terry out of here," Althea said, while Gab clutched at Heaven who was still in the churning water in the tub.
"No," Danube instructed. "I need the boy." Althea's eyes opened wide. "You can't harm a child."
"I won't harm him," Danube said. "I need him. He is a friend of the little girl?"
“Yes.”
Danube pointed to Terry who stood in the doorway. "Come here."
Frightened, Terry drew a quick, uncertain breath. He had stayed in the same spot, watching everything, but he didn't want to walk into the flaming room.
"Now," Danube said.
Slowly the boy walked forward, stepping around some debris and holding one arm in front of his face to ward off the heat.
In the doorway, flames curled over the threshold and began to reach out to the rest of the house.
"The whole place is going to go up, and we won't be able to get out," Althea warned.
Danube did not acknowledge her words. He knelt in front of Terry and whispered a soft blessing. His thumb gently formed the sign of a cross on the boy's forehead.
"You love Heaven?"
"She's my friend," Terry said.
Danube placed his hands on Terry's shoulders and turned the boy so that he faced the band of Gnelfs. "Do you see them?"
He squinted, looking through the smoke.
"They see you."
Terry nodded as his eyes found the shapes, the muscles and the scars. He was looking at a group of nightmarish little gnomes with leering eyes. He bit his lip and let the bearded man's words fill his ears.
"They want to harm Heaven," Danube said. "But you can stop them. You can tell them to be gone.”
“Why me?"
"Why him?" Gnelf Master repeated.
"He is as pure as the other child. You came upon her unawares with your efforts. He is her friend, and he stands ready to reject you."
"He has no effect on us."
"Ask them to leave, Terry."
Danube put a hand on the boy's shoulder and stood silently. After his eyes darted around for a moment, Terry nodded. "Leave. Go away. Leave Heaven."
"You cannot corrupt here," Danube said. "You are in the presence of love and caring. You are in the presence of friendship and mercy. You are of corruption and judgment. Leave us and stop this summoning."
"The demon has been called. He cann
ot be turned back."
"He cannot come here," Danube said. "He has no right or invitation."
"We are all invited. The child invited us into her mind. You invited."
"No, you invaded," Danube said. "You came here with lies and deceptions, masquerading as the friends of her imagination. That is not an invitation. If you have awakened some spirit that will expect an explanation, it is yours to deal with."
"This is not finished," the Gnelf warned.
"Cease the summons," Danube said. "And leave this place."
"You will pay, holy man," the little being said. "You will pay dearly." He muttered some other phrase, and the stubby figures vanished.
With a moan, Heaven relaxed in the tub, and the churning of the water ceased. Quickly Gab lifted her, hugging her soaked body. The heat was leaving her.
Heaven buried her face against Gab's shoulder, weeping.
"She's all right," Gab said.
"But the fire," Althea shouted. "We've got to get out of here."
Danube quickly ushered them into the hallway, where the smoke was already growing thick. Fire crawled along the walls of the corridor, devouring the paneling.
Taking Heaven from Gabrielle, Danube carried her.
They burst into the living room ahead of the flames. Here, the haze was not quite as thick, and Terry led the way to the front door, flinging it open. The knob crashed against the wall, but there was no need to reprimand him. The dent wouldn't be there long.
Gab followed him out into the night. Rain still pelted down, but already fire trucks were pulling to a stop in front of the house. Their red lights blazed through the driving storm, reflecting off the drops, making the rain the color of blood.
Quickly the firemen came forward, some of them helping Gab and Althea, a tall African American man relieving Danube of Heaven.
"You stopped them," Gab said, when she found Danube sitting on the rear bumper of one of the trucks. He was breathing deeply, ignoring the rain soaking his shirt.
"Only temporarily," he said.
"You drove them back."
"I ran a bluff," he said. "We have to figure out why they were summoned and what we must do to stop them."
As the firemen in their heavy black jackets and yellow helmets yanked hoses free and hurried toward the house, Gab accepted blankets and consolation from neighbors. In an instant, the house was engulfed.
Simon's eyes bulged from their sockets as the scene unfolded in the depths of the liquid. He had joined Martin again at the cauldron when he had heard of Danube's arrival.
That had worried him. Now he was terrified. He screamed when the Gnelfs were banished, one hand flying out to grip Martin's forearm.
"What the hell's wrong?" Martin demanded, yanking his arm away.
"They were conjuring something. It had nowhere else to go," Simon shouted.
"So?"
"We summoned the kesilim. They summoned it.”
“You're saying…"
Before the last of his sentence escaped his lips a cylinder of flame shot up out of the cauldron. It was a swirling pillar of orange blaze, and it blossomed into a cloud that burst through the air above the pot.
Simon dove beneath the platform, seizing the book and pressing it protectively against his body.
The man cursed as Simon pulled him down. The flame continued to waver, dancing, tendrils of it lashing out.
Hurriedly Simon peeled open the brittle pages of the grimoire, his long fingers running over the symbols and incantations.
"It's gonna burn the fucking place down," the man shouted.
"I will do something," Simon said.
He eased from beneath the platform, the book open in front of him. Raising the baculum, he traced a symbol in the air and murmured the soft syllables of a forgotten tongue.
For a moment the flame stabilized, shimmering as if it might be about to retreat back into the nothingness within the cauldron. Simon was guardedly prepared to let his shoulders sag with relief, but then, in a burst of force, the flame billowed anew, became a whole new cloud of orange, as if someone had thrown gasoline onto a Bunsen burner.
He wanted to vomit. Not only was he facing a power he might not be able to contain, he was letting his employer see him shudder and fumble around in an attempt to prevent the man's house from being burned to the ground.
Simon's initial glee at the kesilim functioning on their own had begun to fade as he'd wondered what was going to happen.
This blasted demon had to be dealt with. It deftly thrust an orange tentacle in Simon's direction. Without moving, he voiced a quick protection spell which diverted the flame before it could consume him or damage the book. That worked, but he couldn't keep that up all night.
It would want something. If he couldn't provide something to appease it, the demon might take the house down—and destroy him and his employer in the process.
He gritted his teeth. Through most of his efforts, he had managed to avoid situations like this. He had provided small sacrifices and had taken great care to be in control of his summonings.
When your summonings started summoning, however... As the flame shimmered again, prepared to lash out once more, he began to mumble a new spell, one hand slipping beneath the folds of his coat as he spoke. Sweat poured from his brow, and he could feel it dripping from his armpits.
Carefully, he moved in a semicircle around the platform, mumbling protection spells.
The flame hesitated, still dancing, but in a smaller area, around the cauldron. It was waiting, wondering what he might do.
"Who are you?" he asked. If he were to receive a response, even a lie, that would indicate a willingness to bargain. Then, by Enki, lord of magicians, he might stand some chance to turn this around.
The words filled his mind even though no audible sound reached his ears.
I am Girra.
He had read the name in ancient texts. Was that truly this being's name or merely a name it was using, a name it knew he would recognize as the spirit of the flames?
"What can I offer you?" he asked.
There was no reply, but an image of Heaven fluttered through his thoughts. He couldn't tell if it was an errant notion of his, or something suggested by the spirit.
"I can't give you the girl right now," he said. "There are obstacles. Later maybe."
He waited, straining to pick up whatever message might be offered. When the awareness settled over him, he had to fight panic. This was the kind of thing he'd always been so careful to avoid, but this had come out of something beyond his own doing.
He nodded, letting his hand slide slowly down into his inside coat pocket. He had picked up the ornamental dagger in a shop in Europe, rumor holding that it had once belonged to an Egyptian necromancer.
It was golden, though he'd never had it appraised for its true composition. He was also unsure of the true nature of the jewels in the handle. Perhaps they were real, or perhaps it was decorated and designed to look the way one would expect an authentic dagger to look.
Regardless, the blade was sharp and would serve his purpose. With fresh sweat pouring from his brow, he gripped the dagger handle in his right hand and held the left hand up, displaying it for the flame.
"What the hell are you doing?" Martin called from behind him.
"What I must. Be ready to help me if I need it."
He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as he slipped the blade down the side of his pinkie, letting the cutting edge rest at the base of the finger.
Then, tensing his muscles, he forced it to the side, cutting through the fleshy web of skin and grinding the blade through muscle, then bone.
He felt his strength ebbing as the blood began to flow, and his brain began to spin. For a moment he thought he would faint, but he forced himself to remain standing, commanded his mind to peer through the black haze that was trying to settle over him.
As the finger tore free, he let the knife clatter to the floor and used the belt of his jacket as a tourniquet,
wrapping it around his hand in an effort to stem the spurting. Still staggering and shuddering with the shock that was sweeping over him, he held the bloody member over his head and hurled it into the flame.
That blazed brightly for a moment, roaring as if it might be ready to consume the entire house, but then it was gone, as if it were being sucked back into the cauldron.
Dropping back to the floor, Simon forced himself to hold onto the makeshift tourniquet. A moment later he felt his employer's hands at his back, supporting him.
“That was a demon?"
“Of sorts."
"It would have killed us?"
"Yes. I appeased it."
"Dammit, it could have screwed up everything. It could have killed the little girl."
“But it didn't. It served its purpose."
"These blasted things of yours are out of control.”
“No," said Simon. "They are merely gaining strength. All is well."
“The hell it is."
Simon's head rolled back against the man's sleeve. He was pale as death. "Martin, please. I'm very tired. Could we talk about this in the morning?"
Chapter 17
A neighbor found Jake Tanner's body early the next morning. Gabrielle learned about it when Katrina spoke to a friend at the newspaper. She almost broke down, but Katrina seated her at the kitchen table and put a cup of coffee into her hands.
She didn't cry, couldn't cry in the wake of everything that had happened, but remorse and guilt seized her.
"It's my fault," Gab said. "He only got involved because of me."
"It's not your fault," Katrina said. "No way. Besides, he was stabbed. The police are checking into the possibility that it could have been some crazy fan."
"It wasn't," Gabrielle said. "It was those same damned things that are attacking Heaven. They went after him so he wouldn't be able to help me."
She did cry, not sobbing but not fighting the tears. Katrina tore a paper towel from the roll by the refrigerator and gave it to her. The paper was rough, but it absorbed the moisture when Gab dabbed her cheeks.
"What am I going to do, Kat? They're driving me crazy. They're killing my daughter, and there's nothing I can do to prevent that. I can't call a cop and say 'Hey, officer, my daughter is under attack by demons.’”
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