“That’s why the open display of so much religious paraphernalia,” Sam said.
“Yes. And that is why the Church keeps several priests here at all time. Satan cannot stay long in such an atmosphere.” He held up a warning finger. “But make no mistake about one thing: Most of the people we house here are evil. They are the children of Satan, and they know it! If we were to drop our guard for one instant, they would sense it and destroy us.”
“Gee, I never even suspected the existence of such a place!” Sam said.
“We don’t exactly advertise,” Dr. Kent said drily.
“Father Debeau could have told us about this,” Sheela said accusingly.
“He told me he would have, in time,” said Dr. Kent. “He knew that soon you would have to come up here. He felt it would leave a more . . . lasting impact if you witnessed it personally.”
“Could I—we—see the patients?” Sheela asked.
“If you wish. I have to warn you both, it is not a pretty sight.”
Understatement of the decade, Sam thought, as they walked the corridors of the hospital. He—and he was sure Sheela was experiencing it as well—could literally feel the evil all around them. Behind heavy locked doors, Sam could see dark and malevolent eyes staring at them through the steel-reinforced slits in the doors. The human demons, the possessed, the lovers of Satan hissed and cursed them as they walked.
“Ignore them,” Dr. Kent said. “Keep your faith strong and to the fore.”
“That didn’t help Paul Weaver and Burt Riley,” Sam told him.
“They tried to combat Satan with human instruments. Those are useless. Worse than useless. The demon-child turned the weapons against them. A favorite trick of Satan.”
Sam and Sheela kept their eyes to the front as they walked. They both had seen and felt enough. Their skin felt as though slugs and leeches were crawling on the flesh, leaving an invisible trail of slime.
Suddenly the aura of evil ceased. Sheela commented on that.
“We changed wards,” Dr. Kent explained. He stopped at a huge steel door, manned by an armed guard—armed not with a gun, but with a Bible.
“I’m not believing this,” Sam muttered. “A Bible can stop these people?”
“Most of the time,” Kent said, once they were on the other side of the huge door. It slammed hollowly behind them. “Sometimes we have to use physical force. But we would rather not.”
“Doctor, how can you get away with this?” Sam asked. “Government and state inspectors, I mean.”
“We are registered as a home for the criminally insane, among other things. This place is a country club compared to some. Ah! Here’s little Jenny’s room.”
Dr. Kent opened the door. “Jenny,” he said. “You have some people here to see you, darling.”
Jenny looked up at Sam. “Get out of here, Jew-boy!” she said in a strange hollow voice. A man’s voice.
Then she leaped at Sam, screaming and shrieking and clawing at his face.
* * *
Bette went into the kitchen, ignoring the pounding on the front door. Finally she heard Rich’s car start up and drive off. She felt sure he’d go to the gym and spend the night in his office. He had a cot there, and several changes of clothing.
Not that she cared where he went. Hell with him.
She fixed a drink and downed it standing by the table. Then she fixed another. That tasted even better than the first one. She had several more. Maybe she’d take a bath, fix her hair, and go out. Look for some fun. That seemed like a great idea.
She loved this new and very different change in herself. She felt . . . well, free. “Oh, baby,” she sang. “Free at last.”
She had another drink while she bathed. She looked down at the bathwater. It had changed color. It was red. Red? And it didn’t smell very nice. Matter of fact, it stank. As she watched, something like a mist began to rise from the steaming waters. She had never seen anything like it. It fascinated her.
The mist drifted around her face, and she breathed deeply. Strange, savage thoughts entered her head. She mentally fought, feebly, against the suggestions, finally succumbing to them.
“All right,” she said. She climbed from the tub and dried. She dressed and put on a warm coat. She turned off the lights and locked up the house, walking to her car. She drove off into the cold late afternoon.
Oh yes, Nora thought, sitting by the window of her bedroom. Things were definitely looking up. The next forty-eight to seventy-two hours promised to be fun.
* * *
Dr. Kent reacted immediately and decisively, jerking Jenny off the startled Sam and flinging the girl to her bed. Within ten seconds attendants were at the scene, subduing the girl, giving her a shot, and strapping her down.
Dr. Kent did not seem at all surprised at the girl’s behavior. “Nora’s powers reached her,” he explained. “Ever since Morgan called me a few months ago, I’ve been waiting and watching for something like this to happen.” He looked at Sam. “Come on, I’ll see to those scratches on your face.”
After tending to Sam’s face—the scratches were not serious—Dr. Kent walked Sam and Sheela out to the parking lot.
“What happens now?” Sam asked. He was still shaken by the suddenness of the girl’s attack.
“Nora must be stopped,” the doctor said.
“Well, I know that!” Sam said. “But how?”
“I don’t know the how of it,” the doctor admitted. “But I think it’s going to be up to you, Sam.”
Somehow that did not come as any surprise to Sam. He had been experiencing an uneasy feeling about that very thing for the past several days. But he had to ask, “Why me?”
The doctor stood in the cold, windy parking lot with Sam and Sheela and shook his head. “You were her father’s closest friend. You stepped in and took up the fight after she killed her father. Therefore that makes you the enemy.”
“You’ve known about Nora for how many years?” Sheela asked.
“We have quite an extensive file on people who are known to be candidates for possession. There are hundreds scattered throughout the United States and Canada. We try to monitor them as closely as we possibly can.”
“I won’t profess to understand all of this,” Sam said, waving his hand at the hospital complex. “And I won’t ask you how many of these places you have around the country. I’m not sure I want to know. It’s amazing to me that you have managed to keep these places a secret from the press. Some muckrakers would love to blow this out of the water.”
“One rather obnoxious press type did manage to penetrate us several years ago,” Kent said. “I believe that man was the most thoroughly irritating person I have ever had the misfortune to encounter. He didn’t seem to care at all about the safety of others; he just wanted to expose us for his own personal gain. One night he broke into the complex and managed to hide until night. Then he slipped past the guards and worked his way into the maximum security area.” The doctor paused to light his pipe.
“What happened to him?” Sheela asked.
“We found him the next morning, sitting in the corridor, his back to a wall. He had suffered a breakdown. You know the evil you both felt inside?” Sam and Sheela nodded. “It drove him insane. It is my opinion that he was not a very nice person initially. Rather weak, morally.”
“Where is he?” Sam asked.
“Confined here. A babbling idiot, if I may be permitted to use an unprofessional description.” The doctor held out his hand and Sam shook it. “Good luck, Mr. Sobel. God be with you.”
31
Rich slept fitfully on the cot in his office just off the gym. He dreamed of Mary Bennett. He slobbered on himself as he dreamed
* * *
Bette drove aimlessly throughout the evening. She didn’t know what to do or where to go. Her mind was a jumble of confusion. Finally she pulled into a rest area and managed to sleep, waking up every fifteen minutes to look around her at the unfamiliar darkness.
* * *
Jeanne lay wide awake in her bed. She could not sleep at all. She could understand that what she had done to Morgan was wrong, but she didn’t care.
She didn’t care what happened to herself, or to anybody else—not anymore. Nothing mattered. Finally she rolled over on her side and closed her eyes.
* * *
Father Debeau rose early, long before dawn, and carefully packed a few things in a leather bag. He dressed and left the house. He pointed the nose of his car toward Connecticut.
* * *
Sam awakened and lay beside Sheela. From her breathing, he knew she was awake. “It’s today,” Sam said.
“I know. And I’ll be with you.”
“No.”
“Yes,”
Sam sighed impatiently. “Sheela . . .”
“I’m going with you. And that is that. You ready to get up?”
“Yeah. Might as well.”
“You want some breakfast?”
He grinned. “Not even the devil could keep me from eating.”
* * *
Steve Blassingham opened the front door. He was not surprised to see Archie Fremont standing on the porch. He waved his friend inside.
“I got a hunch,” Archie said.
“Yeah. Me too. Whatever is going to happen, is going to go down today or tonight.”
“That’s what I think. You call the rest of your boys?”
“Just about to do that.”
* * *
Dean Ellis tossed and turned until five o’clock. With a curse he threw back the covers and got out of bed. He dressed in jeans and boots and a heavy flannel shirt. He slipped into a leather jacket and left the warmth of the apartment. He drove to a cafe and drank coffee until dawn.
The young DA had never been so confused in all his life. He could defend or prosecute a living human being, but how in the hell does one go about fighting the devil?
* * *
An elderly woman stepped off the train and began slowly walking through the early morning light. “Taxi, lady?” a man called.
“No,” she said in a soft voice. “I want to enjoy my last day. I prefer to walk. But thank you.”
With the cab driver looking at her very oddly, the old woman slowly walked away.
* * *
Bob Turner called Ed Weiskopf at dawn. Ed answered the phone before the first ring had stopped.
“Bob here, Ed. What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you to call. Don’t ask me why. I’d probably give you a totally stupid answer.”
“Yeah. I understand. You want take a drive up to Connecticut?”
“I thought you’d never ask. Pick me up in about an hour?”
“I’ll be there.”
* * *
In the Baxter house, Jane sat up on the rags she called a bed. She waited.
The house uttered a long, shivering, evil sigh.
* * *
Just inside the Connecticut line, Sam pulled over and he and Sheela drank coffee for an hour. They both knew they were waiting, but neither one could say exactly why, or for what.
“Sam?” He looked up. “How are you—we—going to handle this? We can’t just burst into the house.”
“Yeah. But there is nothing to prevent us from going calling. Paying our respects, so to speak.”
“Concerning this Morgan person.”
“Yeah.”
She glanced at a tiny wristwatch. “It’s far too early for that.”
Before Sam could answer, his eyes caught a familiar figure walking through the café door. Father Joseph Debeau. Sam waved him over.
Joe sat down and said, “And the forces of good gather to fight the good fight, eh?”
Sam said, “I’ve never considered myself an exceptionally good person, Joe.”
“Oh, but you’re not to be the judge of that, Sam. Nor I. But I can detect a great deal of good in you.”
Tactfully, deliberately, Sam changed the subject. “I get this feeling that we three are not alone in our early-morning wanderings.”
“We are all gathering,” the priest said. He paused as the waitress brought coffee and left. “At least I hope we are all gathering.”
“Why are we gathering?” Sheela asked. “I mean—you know what I mean.”
“Are we being commanded by some higher power to gather?” the priest asked. “I don’t know. I like to think He has intervened.”
“He with a capital H?” Sam asked.
“Yes.” Father Debeau sighed heavily. “I left my home very early this morning. I spent several hours alone, in a small church not very far from here. In prayer. I have made my peace with God.”
“Are you telling us you are ready to die?” Sam asked.
“Yes. And I probably shall do just that.” He smiled. “I certainly hope not. But Nora despises me almost as much as she does you, Sam.”
Sam looked up, and his eyes widened in shock and total disbelief. He half rose from his chair.
Phillip Baxter was standing in the door, motioning for Sam to come to him.
* * *
The big house on Maplewood Drive dominated the street. It always had, but today it seemed especially foreboding. It stood like an open challenge, daring anyone to enter. The house seemed almost alive. And it seemed to be waiting for something. The windows were like eyes, looking in all directions. Unblinking and unforgiving and evil. The house watched as Detective Archie Fremont drove past. It watched as Lieutenant Blassingham drove by. It watched as Dean Ellis drove past. And it watched as many others passed, driving slowly.
And Nora watched it all, from her bedroom window. The child shifted her gaze, her mind’s eye seeing a classmate of hers playing in her front yard, enjoying this last day of vacation, on this Friday before school resumed on Monday That stupid fool of a coach, Rich, had gone to the school to wait for his prey, and his foolish wife had wandered aimlessly about. Well, that was all right. She would allow them to wait; it would be good to have some fun on Monday as well.
Nora’s mind’s eye registered a car approaching her classmate’s corner of the street. Nora smiled and took command. The girl straightened up and walked to the sidewalk. As the car drew near, the child stepped into its path. The startled and horrified driver slammed on her brakes. But it was too late. Both front and back tires rolled over the child after she was mangled on the bumper and grill. The heavy car crushed the life from her. She lay broken and bloody on the cold street.
Nora found it hysterically amusing. In her bedroom she laughed and laughed as the music played and the clown’s head swayed back and forth to the somber dirge.
“I saw it all!” a neighbor yelled, running to the scene. He stopped as Nora’s will took control of his. The man’s face changed to hate. “You deliberately ran down that poor little girl. Goddamn you!”
“I did not!” the woman screamed. “She stepped right out in front of me!”
“Liar, liar!”
The man and woman were still screaming and cursing when the police arrived.
“Isn’t this fun?” Nora cried.
“Ja, ja!” the clown head shouted. “Almost as much fun as killing.
“Contain yourself,” she said. “That will come later.”
“Gut! The sooner the better.” The clown head looked at the girl. “What are you thinking?”
“More fun. Fun for mother. Oh my, yes.”
Nora turned her head around and around, her eyes savage and lustful and wide. She laughed and projected her thoughts.
Downstairs, Jeanne rose from the couch and gathered up coat and purse. She left the house and got into her station wagon. She drove off.
“Where are you sending her?” the clown head asked.
“To Hell . . . ,” Nora said.
* * *
“Sam! What’s wrong?” Sheela asked.
Debeau did not look up. Instead he kept his eyes downcast, staring into his coffee cup.
Sam sat down. His face was pale. “Phillip was standing ri
ght there in the door.”
Debeau sat very still and very silent.
Sheela looked at the priest. “Joe,” she said quietly. “Is that possible?”
“All things are possible,” he said.
“Joe, don’t quote me drivel or Scripture. I don’t want to hear it. What I want is for you, a man of God, a human being, to tell me if the dead can rise.”
“Jesus did.”
“I could argue that point,” Sam said. “But I won’t.”
“I thank you for that,” Debeau said.
“Can the . . . no. Have you ever known of the dead rising? You, Joe—personally witness anything like that?”
“I have . . .” He paused. “I have heard reports of it, yes. From very reliable sources. I personally have never seen it.”
“Do you believe it’s possible?”
“Yes,” the priest whispered.
“Under what circumstances?”
Debeau tried a smile that didn’t quite come off. “What you saw, Sam, if you saw anything, was not the Phillip you and I knew. His body is still in the ground. Perhaps . . . perhaps you saw his spirit returning to assist us.”
“What could a spirit do?” Sam found himself asking, incredible words coming from his mouth.
Debeau said, “Phillip now knows what lies on both sides of the veil, Sam. We are only cognizant of what lies on this side.”
Sam nodded his head. “OK, Joe. I’m just a bushleaguer playing in your ball park. What next?”
“We wait here until the others gather.”
“They’re coming here?” Sheela asked. “Did you phone them?”
“No,” the priest said.
“Then . . . ?”
“Have patience, child. They’ll be here.”
“I wonder which side Jeanne is on?” Sam blurted, not really knowing why he asked that question at this time.
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