Gabriella spotted three pretty girls frolicking around the swing set and saw another two girls jumping rope a few feet from the jungle gym, but to her growing dismay, there was no sign of Karen.
A cold chill ran down her neck. Her greatest nightmare was that some harm might befall the kids while under her watch. Especially when she took them out into the world. Gabriella knew she couldn’t keep them trapped at home all day long in front of their TV and iPads and all their other devices. The real world wasn’t to be found in computers. These kids needed a chance to play in the sun. But it was a crazy world filled with even crazier people. Gabriella knew all too well what kind of dangers could await these precious children, and—
The thought withered in her mind as Gabriella found Karen. She stood at the far edge of the playground, a sunflower in her tiny hands. At first, she appeared to be all by her lonesome, as usual. Gabriella wondered where she had found the flower.
Then a tall man stepped up to Karen. The little girl stared up at him with big eyes, and Gabriella could tell even from this distance that he was striking up a conversation. There was no good reason a grown man should talk to a child on the playground, and Gabriella was already getting to her feet when the man opened his hand and held out something on his palm.
Candy. The oldest trick in the book.
A cold sensation stabbed Gabriella’s gut, and for a beat, she struggled to draw her next breath. It made her muscles freeze, just for an instant. Then she was lurching forward, leaving her bag and phone behind in her hurry to reach Karen before something happened.
The man remained oblivious of her incoming presence, focused on the little girl. He was smiling, saying something that appeared to put Karen at ease. The child was usually so shy around strangers, so this man must be charming.
Predators generally were.
Gabriella’s pace quickened.
Karen took the candy bar. Even from this distance, Gabriella could see Karen’s pretty eyes light up with joy as she unwrapped the treat. She and her brother weren’t supposed to have sugar. Gabriella would never let them have chocolate. Not on her watch.
And then the tall man reached for Karen’s tiny hand.
Gabriella’s heart pounded in her chest, blood roaring in her ears as she broke into a run.
The man’s bony fingers closed around Karen’s wrist, and he dragged her away from the playground toward the surrounding wall of trees.
Gabriella wouldn’t reach them in time. She shouted, “Hey, you! What do you think you’re doing? Karen, get away from him!”
The man froze turned in her direction.
And as the stranger’s gaze met hers, Gabriella knew. A part of her had wished to be wrong about the man, had hoped he might just be some odd old fellow who wanted to put a smile on the face of a lonely kid. But the guilty eyes staring back at her belonged to a predator caught in the act.
“Stop, he is trying to kidnap my girl! Help, someone help me…”
Even as she screamed for help from the other parents and caretakers scattered around the playground, the man’s grip tightened on little Karen’s wrist, and he started dragging her toward the woods like a rag doll. Tears exploded from her eyes as the girl realized that something was very, very wrong.
“Help!” Gabriella screamed at the top of her lungs.
No, this couldn’t be happening. Her worst nightmare was becoming real.
And then she saw the uniformed police officer approaching at a fast pace, and her spirits lifted.
The old perv seemed to realize the game was up and slowed his gait. He let go of Karen, and the little girl tore toward Gabriella’s welcoming arms.
As she engulfed Karen in a hug, her tears mingling with the little girl’s, Gabriella barely registered the cop throw the freak on the ground.
At this point, she couldn’t care less about him. All that mattered was that Karen was safe and a terrible tragedy had been narrowly averted.
And as she wiped the tears off her face, she was gripped another strange realization. She’d seen the perv before. Walking around the park, a harmless presence.
The reason Gabriella hadn’t recognized him a first is because he normally wore dark shades and used a white cane to get around. She’d never seen his eyes before until this very moment. Eyes that certainly didn’t belong to a blind man.
Chapter Eight
Besides housing the secret doorway to my father’s underground cave temple, my home library also held over ten thousand books on the occult. New editions sat side by side with dusty, weathered tomes dating back to the Middle Ages. Dad’s little collection (with a few hundred additions of my own) covered such fun topics as witchcraft, demonology, monster anatomy, and occult ritual, just to mention just a few.
Ironically enough, this same library doesn’t hold the Bible, and I had to help myself to Vesper’s copy, which I found in the living room. Ever since her ordeal with the devil-worshipping biker gang, Vesper had made it a point to read from the good book daily.
Recently I’d noticed her leaving her Bible lying around the house, almost as if she was hoping I might pick it up from time to time. I guess she felt I could use some religion in my life. Perhaps she was even right. I had the bad habit of dwelling on the darkness tormenting our world to the exclusion of everything else. Vesper was doing her best to restore some light into my life.
And, talking about my lovely assistant, she wasn’t in the mansion when I arrived, which felt a little weird. Until my last case, she had been a consummate homebody chained to her computer station. Vesper only ventured outside on rare occasions, and almost always with me as her chaperone. Now that she’d overcome her once crushing agoraphobia, she made it a point to at least jog every day on the beach or take a dip in the Pacific. I missed her reassuring presence but was also happy to see her conquering her demons.
Bible in hand, I made my way to the occult library. The sacred book clutched in my fingers felt both familiar and alien. There was a time when I would read from the Bible every day. Diving into scripture had kept me sane during those first long months following the discovery of my father’s evil. After the LAPD had gunned down Mason Kane, my thirteen-year-old self had moved in with my aunt, who lived on the East Coast. New England had seemed like a different world after growing up in sunny California. A world where I didn’t fit in.
Those first few weeks had been rough as I tried to make sense of what I’d witnessed in my father’s temple. It’s not every day that you learn your dad is an insane cult leader and that demons are real. Not surprisingly, I felt drawn to religion. Perhaps the Bible could make sense of the crazy nightmare that my life had turned into and shed some light on my father’s dark deeds. And for a while it did.
Ultimately, the text failed to explain the full scope of my father’s monstrous evil, and I turned to other books—the dark, dusty tomes that crowded the sagging shelves of my father’s library—and found the answers I was looking for.
Platitudes such as the Lord works in mysterious ways wouldn’t cut it. I needed to learn more about the infernal forces I’d experienced that night in the temple.
Wanted to understand the darkness.
Find a way to fight the horrors.
That doesn’t mean I stopped believing in God. On the contrary. I draw on the forces of light to battle the infernal darkness. But I digress. My current focus was Jesus' miracles and how they might relate to historical stigmata cases. According to all the literature I’ve combed through on the subject, most stigmatics were devout followers of the scriptures. Whatever force was at work here, divine or otherwise, it was using Cleo’s faith as its conduit into our reality.
Even though it was saving people, I’d sensed the simmering evil inside the miracle worker back in the park. The voice that had chilled me as it slithered from Cleo’s mouth didn’t sound like a message from God. I was leaning more toward the opposite explanation. But that raised an interesting question: If a demon had infiltrated Cleo’s soul, why was it using its
black magic powers to conjure up religious miracles? What game was this creature playing?
While my subconscious was sorting it all out, refamiliarizing myself with the stories of Jesus’ miracles seemed like a wise move. Ensconced in a comfortable recliner, surrounded by thousands of books that would have gotten me burned at the stake only a few centuries earlier, I read from the Bible for the first time in years.
I was particularly interested in the Gospel and the account of Jesus’s incredible feats. Besides the feeding of the five thousand and the resurrection of the widow’s dead son, there were the stories of Jesus turning water into wine, walking on water, healing the sick and disabled. These were great deeds designed to instill hope and inspire faith. Why would a dark force recreate them? Was it a way of mocking Christian beliefs?
The more I read, the less sense it all made. A piece of the puzzle was missing. Until I found it, Cleo would remain in danger-
My cell chirped. It was Father Jimenez. I was about to learn that this strange case of miracles had taken another sharp turn. After the call ended a few minutes later, it all was making a little more sense to me.
“Who was that?” Vesper asked. I nearly jumped out of my seat, startled by my assistant’s sudden presence. Father’s Jimenez voice on the other end of my cell had masked her approach.
Vesper was wearing fashionable athletic wear, her newly bronzed skin covered in sweat. She looked bright-eyed, energized, happy.
“Hey, is that my Bible? Did you finally find religion?”
“I think religion found me.”
Vesper frowned, and I brought her up to speed on the case. Her forehead creased into a pensive line as I finished my report.
“Why would a dark force perform miracles?”
I nodded, pleased that Vesper’s thoughts were so in sync with mine. “Excellent question. I was racking my brain over that one until Father Jimenez called just now.”
“What do you mean? Has there been a new development in the case?”
“You could say that.”
Vesper’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Okay, spill the beans. It’s so annoying when you get all cryptic.”
“That guy Cleo supposedly brought back from the dead. It looks like he murdered his girlfriend before eating a bullet himself. The dude had a serious rap sheet, too. Gang member, drug dealer, suspect in three ongoing murder investigations. Not exactly an angel.”
“Holy shit.”
“It gets better. The hundreds of homeless folks Cleo fed after she ran out of food…”
“What about them?” Vesper asked, a note of dread creeping into her voice.
“Everyone who ate from the food Cleo Dix served at the soup kitchen came down with food poisoning. E. coli going by early tests. Over two hundred of them are receiving medical care.”
I held up my cell at Vesper. Father Jimenez had sent me multiple photographs of the crowded hospital wards filled with ailing, desperate patients.
“Wow. Those two miracles…”
“Backfired,” I finished in a grim voice. “And there is more. The guy whose vision Cleo restored at the coffee shop?”
“Do I even want to know?”
“What’s the first thing the bastard does now that he can see again? He heads to the nearest playground and tries to abduct a seven-year-old girl.”
“Jesus, that’s sick.” Vesper’s eyes blazed with understanding. “She’s saving bad people.”
“And even when she isn’t helping scum…”
“The miracles turn into catastrophes.”
I nodded, the images of the food-poisoned homeless people vivid in my mind.
“This is nuts.”
I couldn’t agree more.
Vesper leaned closer, her voice a glassy whisper. “Why is this happening?”
“My guess is the demon is mocking Jesus’ miracles, turning people’s faith against them. Specifically, DJ Trinity’s faith. Jimenez told me that Cleo was one of his most devout parishioners.”
“You think by twisting her own beliefs against her…”
“The demon is asserting its control. Whatever dark force has taken hold of Cleo, it’s feeding on her faith, devouring her soul.”
Vesper looked pale beneath her newly acquired tan. “Can you stop it?”
“Stopping the entity is only part of the challenge. Doing so without harming Cleo, now that’s where things get tricky.”
I closed the Bible and rose from my armchair. Vesper reached out for her book and tucked it under her arm protectively.
“What do you think this creature ultimately wants? I mean, why choose Cleo of all people? Why her, why now?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed, feeling the weight of what was happening pressing down on me. The forces of darkness loved to hunt the young, the innocent. Those with the most potential to do good in this world.
“She must’ve come in contact with this entity somehow,” Vesper said.
She was right, of course. Somehow, Cleo had unwittingly put herself in harm’s way. I said unwittingly based on how she’d reacted to her newfound powers. Cleo didn’t strike me as some devoted follower of the Left-Handed Path. Then again, only in rare cases do people voluntarily open themselves up to spiritual attacks—my father’s followers, for example.
I guess taking a soul by force is more satisfying to these creatures of darkness. Like the predators they were, demons stalked and struck when you least expected it. But first, you had to enter their world, make yourself vulnerable. Cleo must’ve gotten on evil’s radar. The big question was how and when.
“We need to find out what put Cleo in the path of this thing,” I said. “And she’s the only one who can tell us her full story.”
“Didn’t you already talk to her?”
“I tried. Unfortunately, last time we were interrupted.” I quickly told Vesper about the pugnacious boyfriend. She gave a snort at the thought of me getting run off by a surfer dude. “Earlier this morning, I didn’t know what questions to ask her. Now I do.”
“You think her boyfriend will let you get close to his girl a second time around? No way.”
“That’s where you can help me out, my faithful assistant.”
“Let me guess, I'm the lucky gal who gets to distract the boyfriend while you chat up his sweetheart.”
“You got it. So do you feel like taking a ride to Ktown?”
“I’ll do it. But only under one condition.”
I cocked an eyebrow, not used to Vesper making demands. “I’m not letting you drive.”
“No, but you’ll treat me to a boba tea.”
Vesper flashed me a playful smile, and I grinned back at her. She had herself a deal.
Chapter Nine
I was back at Cleo Dix’s Ktown apartment building, Vesper by my side this time. She took a deep gulp from her boba, and I could see her inhaling the tapioca balls through the straw. Her eyes flashed with pleasure. It was nice to see my assistant feeling comfortable in her skin again, enjoying life. Even if that involved the truly disgusting concoction clutched in her hand. Give me a cup of coffee any day over milky tea with squishy bits in it.
It felt weird having my assistant out in the field with me. I liked her company, but it also filled me with unease. The real world, unfortunately, came with some real danger. Bad enough that I had to watch out for my safety, but now I was also responsible for another person.
But we were a team, and Vesper had proven that she could take care of herself. Besides, it wasn’t like we were about to set foot in a haunted mansion or some ghoul-infested cemetery. We were just paying Cleo Dix another visit. The biggest challenge here was getting around her suspicious boyfriend, or so I tried to tell myself. If I was honest, the situation was a little more dicey than that.
I worried that the dark presence I’d briefly glimpsed back in the park would grow stronger. Each mysterious miracle would feed the entity that had seized control of Cleo, increasing its infernal hold over the young DJ. Who knew how hard it woul
d be to reach Cleo at this point? Most predators, when cornered, lashed out with vicious, desperate strength. Demons were no different, and if it suspected I meant to hurt it, the foul thing might attack Cleo first.
Only one way to know for sure.
I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for what lay ahead. The sun was painting red shadows across the stone steps leading up to the building’s wrought-iron double doors. The crowd I’d witnessed earlier that day had dissipated, which was a blessing in itself. Only a few traces of their earlier presence remained. I noted a sign in the shape of a large cross and a placard featuring an image of Jesus, both carelessly discarded on the sidewalk. Perhaps the news of how the miracles had backfired had gotten around?
“You ready?” I asked Vesper.
“Let’s do this.” She looked brave and determined—good girl. Rule number one of demon hunting was to act confident.
We entered the building and climbed another set of stairs to Cleo Dix’s apartment. I first rang the bell, then knocked on the door when no one answered.
“Cleo, it’s Simon Kane. Father Jimenez’ friend? We briefly met earlier today,” I said as I rapped against the wooden door again. I wouldn’t be surprised if Cleo didn’t want to talk to me. And if the demon was in charge, I doubted the creature would be eager to have a private one-on-one chat with yours truly. I prayed that Cleo was still in control and starved for answers. I’d been so close to getting through to her when her boyfriend showed up to ruin our chat.
Vesper shot me a look. “Either no one is home, or they don’t like you too much.”
Refusing to give up, I rapped my knuckles against the door again. “Cleo, we need to talk!” I said with greater force in my voice.
Fast approaching footsteps grew audible on the other side of the door. I can be a stubborn bastard when the situation calls for it, but I get results.
The Paranormalist 3: Curse of the Abyss Page 5