A God in the Shed

by J-F. Dubeau

  In her panic, she tripped on a root and fell flat on the ground, her elbows digging deep into the mud. Scrambling to get to her feet, she realized this was probably how her mother had died. Running scared and panicked, unable to understand what was happening to her and why. Penny did not want to die like that. If the god was going to take her life, she’d make it fight for the privilege.

  She crawled toward her bag, grabbing ahold of one of the straps. As she did, the air around her became freezing cold and she could see her breath once again. Nearly hysterical, Penny reached into the bag and pulled out the large kitchen knife she’d used to stab the god. Getting a firm hold on its handle, she pulled off the T-shirt she’d used to cover the blade. The gruesome keepsake in hand, the object still covered in pitch-black blood, she spun to see what was behind her.

  But there was nothing.

  Nothing but empty woods, lush green foliage, and evergrowing puddles of water. No sounds except for the tapping of raindrops on the leaves above and her ragged, labored breathing. Obviously her fear had gotten the better of her, and her imagination was running wild. Or maybe she was going crazy. After everything she’d been through, losing her mind was to be expected, wasn’t it? Crazy or simply on edge, the important thing was, she’d imagined the apparition.

  “Penny?”

  The teenage girl shrieked, twisted around, and slashed blindly behind her. She felt the blade bite into flesh, a sensation she hadn’t been familiar with until she had tried to murder a god. This time only the tip of the knife found purchase. She worried that it might not be enough to stop her attacker, whoever it was. But before she had time to give another flourish, her mind finally registered who it was she’d attempted to cut to ribbons.

  “Audrey?”

  The little dead girl stood before her, a hand to her face. She wore a pretty white dress that glowed as if lit from within. Eerily, her clothes and her hair were dry, her skin pale and clean. The child’s feet seemed to be planted deep in a puddle of dark water. Penny trembled in horror and disbelief, noticing large black iron nails had been driven into the child’s eye sockets.

  Yet Audrey seemed more upset by the cut to her cheek. She slowly lifted her hand to look at her bloodstained fingers. Audrey’s wound wasn’t long or deep, but it clearly hurt, as tears were welling up where her eyes should have been. The dead girl’s lower lip quivered as she tried to swallow her sobs.

  Penny’s motherly instincts took over. Dropping the knife, she took a step forward and crouched so she could be level with Audrey. Slowly, she reached out to gently touch the child, but her hand passed through the little girl’s shoulder. Penny’s hand felt cold as it did so, as if it had been dipped in ice water.

  To her credit, Penny kept her cool this time, focusing on the little dead girl.

  “Audrey, baby?” Penny asked gently. “Are you okay?”

  “No.” The child took a step back. “You hurt me.”

  “I’m so sorry, honey. I really didn’t mean to.” Penny felt sick with remorse. “I would never hurt you on purpose, you know that.”

  Audrey looked Penny right in the eyes, the black nails in her skull almost hypnotic in their atrocity. Penny tried to stay calm. First gods, now ghosts. Was her mother’s spirit also wandering around the forest? A lost spirit in the woods?

  “It’s okay,” the little girl finally answered. “It’s just a small cut. I thought you were mad at me.”

  “What . . . what are you doing here, Audrey?”

  “I was looking for you.” Her voice became cold and impersonal. “But it’s okay. I found you now. I knew you’d come here.”

  “Why . . . why me?”

  “Uncle Randy says he needs help. Can you help him?”

  There was so much Penny wanted to ask. Was her mother also a ghost? Could she talk to her? She wanted to beg the little girl to let her see her mother again, but in the end she settled on the most pressing question.

  “What kind of help?”

  VENUS

  “YOU’RE SURE YOU want me to leave?”

  Venus had to crane her neck to look Matt Bélanger in the eyes. The officer was known for his calm nature and economy of words. Most residents of Saint-Ferdinand knew that he only ever spoke when he thought it was absolutely necessary.

  She looked at the bars separating her from the two men. One was Old Sam Finnegan. It felt odd to see him. He sat placidly on his cot, looking at her with a gentle smile. Even now, after over two weeks in jail, it was hard to imagine he’d committed so many atrocities. Scruffy and thin, wrinkled and unkempt, he looked like a kindly grandfather, not a career serial killer.

  The other man, of course, was her uncle Randy. Being behind bars suited him even less. His sunken eyes and ashen complexion made him look like he’d seen a ghost. She’d expected him to be angry or disappointed, but he looked confused and scared. Remorse filled her heart, seeing him like this, knowing his current situation was her fault.

  “I’ll be fine, Lieutenant Matt.” She smiled confidently up at him.

  The officer shrugged. “When you’re done, or if you need anything, just hit the buzzer at the top of the stairs.”

  Venus waited until the door had closed completely before turning her attention back to the shell of the man that was her uncle. His lack of grooming and vacant expression painted him as more of a killer than Finnegan.

  “I didn’t know what else to do . . . ,” she began, attempting to gauge his state of mind. “I’ve come to apologize. I . . . I’m trying to piece together a lot of stuff, but I need help.”

  Randy just kept staring at her. It made Venus nervous. She felt like running up the stairs and hitting that large red button, leaving this place, and never coming back. But she had a responsibility.

  “Uncle Randy? I’m sorry. I connected the wrong dots, and I assumed you had something to do with Mrs. LaForest’s death. I’ve come around, though. I guess that’s why I’m here.”

  “What turned you around?” Randy McKenzie croaked. “The evidence you gave Crowley was pretty damning.”

  “It’s hard to explain. I . . . I don’t know that you’d believe me anyways.”

  “Try me, Venus.”

  She was relieved to hear emotion in his voice, even if it was impatience with a hint of irritation.

  “I know what . . . who killed Gabrielle.”

  The dramatic reveal had the intended effect, just not on the target she expected. Sam Finnegan tilted his head and leaned forward a little. Randy, on the other hand, showed no reaction.

  “It’s not a person,” Venus continued. Randy still didn’t move, but somehow he seemed to intensify his stare. “It’s a . . . it’s a god.”

  She expected incredulity or even ridicule, but the reaction she received made all her worries seem pointless. Sam Finnegan sagged back onto his cot, his smile melting away, while Randy buried his face in his hands. Did they actually believe her?

  “Actually, it claims to be a god. Maybe it’s a demon or a mutant or some kind of monster . . . I don’t know!” Venus added, struggling to get a further reaction out of her uncle.

  “Oh, it’s a god, all right,” Finnegan said with a bitter smile. “Just not one of ours.”

  “Stay out of this, Sam,” Randy said, finally lifting his head. His voice was raspy, like it hadn’t been used in days. “Have you seen it, Venus? Have you seen the thing with your eyes?”

  “It keeps out of the light,” she said with some hesitation, “but it looks like it’s made of shadows . . . and blood.”

  “When did you see it last? Where?” Randy was almost on the verge of panic.

  “I have it trapped in the backyard shed. It’s not happy about that.”

  “Trapped?” the doctor asked. “Are you completely sure about that?”

  “Yes. One hundred percent.”

  Sam clapped excitedly and laughed. He seemed relieved while Randy seemed confused.

  “Yes!” the madman cried. “She is very smart, isn’t she, your niece?”
>
  “No. I’m not,” she said, throwing a look at the crazy old man. “It was luck. I had a camera set up in there. It can’t go anywhere when someone, or I guess something, is looking at it, so it’s stuck there. For now. But it killed Penny’s mom and . . . other things, and it’s trying to escape. It’s making this weird mural, and I don’t think it’s just for fun. I don’t know what to do next. I need a way to destroy it.”

  “That’s a little ambitious, don’t you think?” Randy said, standing and walking to the door of his cage. Venus was shocked at how haggard he looked. “You can’t kill a god.”

  “Oh no, you can kill it,” Sam disagreed. “You can kill it, but it doesn’t have to die. Not if it chooses not to. It plays by a different set of rules. That’s why the curse of Cicero works!”

  “My friend Penny stabbed it with a knife about this big.” She held her hands roughly a foot apart. “It didn’t die.”

  “Or it did, but it doesn’t mind or care that it’s dead. Maybe it’s been dead for years. Different rules,” countered Sam.

  “Okay. Whatever.” Venus turned to her uncle again. “Why is he suddenly the expert on all this?”

  “These are crazy days, Venus,” the madman answered in his own defense. “And haven’t you heard how crazy I am? I’m uniquely qualified—”

  “Wait. Go back a little,” Randy interrupted. “Penny did what? Venus, this is a god, a real god you’ve imprisoned. This isn’t a game.”

  Venus clenched her fists. This was the kind of reaction she had been desperately hoping to avoid. She might be only fifteen, but there was no way she was going to allow herself to be condescended to. Not after everything she’d been through.

  “My cat’s been flayed and my best friend’s mom is dead. Your god has threatened me, and for all I know, the entire world’s at risk.” She tried to keep her temper in check. “Apart from being mysterious and evasive, what the hell have you two been doing? I’m dealing with this better than either of you! I’m not the one playing games!”

  “Okay. All right. I apologize,” Randy said, trying to sound sincere. “I’m just . . . There’s no precedent for this situation. I don’t know how I can help.”

  “And I don’t know if it can be destroyed,” Finnegan added. “Other, better people have tried and died. I just know how to keep it locked up.” Like her uncle before her, Venus was starting to wonder how much of the madman’s persona was only a facade.

  Venus calmed down and opened her hands. She hadn’t realized just how tightly she’d been clenching her fists. Placing herself between the two cell doors, she tried to address both men at the same time. She knew her first priority was getting information.

  “What can either of you tell me about this curse of Cicero?”

  Finnegan looked away. Sadness and regret were reflected in his eyes as he stared at the wall. “It’s a promise. A promise the god made to a man named Cicero over a century ago,” he answered. His tone was neutral, but his voice was unsteady. “A promise to not move as long as someone looked at it. It started as a game, but now it’s a curse.

  “The Craftsmen, they used to take turns watching it. Then my wife painted the eye. When it all went to hell and she . . . When she passed and her painting was damaged, well, I had to come up with a different solution.”

  “‘They are ever vigilant in death,’” quoted Randy. “That’s why you took the eyes . . . ”

  Venus studied both men. Randy had stopped paying attention to her, suddenly swallowed by his own thoughts. Finnegan was no better, clutching his knees, his eyes distant. The young girl recognized that no matter what he’d told the police or his lawyers, this was Sam Finnegan’s true confession. Obviously there was more to it than Venus understood at that moment, but Lieutenant Bélanger might be back any minute. She was running out of time.

  “Uncle Randy?” she said, tapping on the cell bars to get his attention. “That man, Cicero? He’s in town and he says he needs to talk to you.”

  “How?” the medical examiner answered. “There’s no way Crowley is going to let Cicero in here for a chat.”

  “I don’t know. I’m only the messenger, but if what I’ve been told is right, you only have until tomorrow. After that, he’ll be gone.”

  It was starting to look like everyone had their own little piece of information about the god, but not everyone was on the same team. Which meant that not everyone could be trusted. She didn’t want to be paranoid, but she could hardly open up to just anyone. So Venus had suggested that she and Daniel meet in front of the ice cream parlor, in the same place they’d spoken earlier. Venus had expected the shop to be closed, but Penny was back behind the counter. Her hair was a mess, her clothes were covered in mud, and her eyes were wild. Daniel had taken refuge inside, and the two of them had been talking.

  “We need to talk,” Venus said as she entered the converted trailer.

  When discussing Daniel’s request earlier that day, Venus had recognized that the inspector’s son knew an awful lot about the goings-on in Saint-Ferdinand.

  “That’s an understatement,” Daniel replied. “Penny’s been telling me some really freaky stuff, McKenzie.”

  “‘Stuff’?” Venus gave her friend a concerned look. “What ‘stuff,’ pray tell?”

  “Stuff about gods, skinless cats . . . ghosts.”

  Venus shot Penny a withering look of accusation. Why the hell did she have to go and tell the inspector’s son everything? They had agreed to keep things to themselves until they understood the stakes involved.

  “Sorry, Veen. Daniel found me walking from the Richards place and gave me a lift. We got to talking again and, well, things just got a little more . . . complicated.”

  “How can things be more . . . Wait. Ghosts?” Venus asked, incredulous.

  “It’s Audrey, Veen. Little Audrey,” Penelope explained. “Your uncle . . . did something to her.”

  “What?”

  “He didn’t kill her or anything. I think he . . . anchored her soul. With a spell or something.”

  “I just talked to him, God dammit! Why didn’t he mention anything?”

  “To be fair, you did put him in jail, McKenzie,” Daniel said.

  Daniel might be annoying, but he had a point. At least now she knew what her uncle had been doing in the cemetery.

  “So Audrey’s a ghost, and my uncle’s a wizard?” Venus’s tone was skeptical. “Sure. Why not?”

  “It gets better,” Daniel added.

  Venus turned to her best friend. “Why is he suddenly in charge?”

  “Just listen to what he has to say. You’ll see.”

  When Venus turned back to Daniel, he gave her a look of patience and understanding that she did not expect.

  “Right. So William Bergeron wants to bring his daughter back to life,” Daniel explained. “Mr. Bergeron, my father, and a few other people in town have this club or cult or whatever you want to call it. My best guess is, they want to enslave this so-called god, then use it to grant Mr. Bergeron’s wish. And maybe some other wishes too.”

  “That sounds crazy.”

  “Totally, but like I was telling Penny, I saw them. At church, doing some cult-y ritual.”

  “You said the god is always going on about granting wishes and making dreams come true,” Penny added. “It’s always angling to make a deal. They think they’re getting a wish-granting machine. Like a genie in a bottle.”

  “Right,” Daniel said. “And I think your uncle Randy and Harry Peterson are part of all this too.”

  “Abe’s dad?” Venus said in disbelief.

  Now she understood why her friend had been comfortable sharing their secrets with Daniel. It appeared that the older boy was aware of an entirely different side of the story, and had offered his own pieces so that they could be added to the puzzle.

  “I gave Randy your message, but why didn’t you tell me any of this before I saw him?”

  “I didn’t know if I could trust you.”

  “Fine.”
Venus couldn’t argue that she had been just as secretive as Daniel. “He says he’s okay with talking to Cicero but that there’s no way they’ll let that guy in the cellblock for a chat.”

  “That’s another understatement,” Daniel pointed out.

  “I’ve got it,” Penny said. “Audrey didn’t just appear to me for no reason. She was giving me a message from your uncle. Now, don’t get pissed, but he wanted me to get something from his office in Sherbrooke. But maybe she can help us get Cicero and Randy in contact.”

  “Hold up,” said Venus. “What does my uncle want from his office?”

  “A list,” Penny responded. “People who were part of the Saint-Ferdinand Craftsmen’s Association. He says all the information is in a wooden box on a shelf of the middle bookcase in his office.”

  “Perfect!” Venus said. “Let’s go. We can catch up with Abraham.”

  “You’ll have to say hi for me,” Penny said. “I want to talk to this Cicero, and I think I know how to get him in touch with your uncle. You’re going to have to go alone, Veen.”

  Venus had walked into the ice cream parlor confident that she was finally getting a handle on things, but now the situation was being flipped on her again. How was she supposed to make it to Sherbrooke? Penny was the one with the car and license. Venus would have to ask for a lift from her parents. It might take hours before they got around to driving her, assuming they wouldn’t insist on waiting until morning. She was stuck in Saint-Ferdinand, unable to go comfort her friend and unable to do her part. Unless . . .

  “Daniel?” she said. “You owe me a favor.”

  CROWLEY

  THIS WAS THE second time in as many days that Stephen Crowley had made his way to the Peterson farm. Neither occasion was official business, though he wasn’t opposed to stretching the limits of his authority.

  The sight before him made his heart sink. As a child, he’d always loved the circus. Especially this one. Cicero’s Circus didn’t have any animals and only a few clowns. There was no freak show. It was the kind of traveling show that aspired not to disgust or terrify its audience, but to amaze. No one could visit Cicero’s without believing in magic at least a little when they left.