The Trilogy of the Void: The Complete Boxed Set

by Peter Meredith

  "Did the demon do it to them? Kill them, I mean?" Lisa asked. Her face looked a sick shade of green. "You keep saying murdered..."

  "Yeah how did they die?" Will was filled with morbid curiosity.

  "I don't think the demon killed them...at least not directly. Skipper only knew the manner of death for Colonel Fortini. He was shot in the back of the head...Skipper called it execution style, but I don't know what that means really."

  "What about the girl?" William asked. "Do you know if she was...like Talitha? Did she have the same unnatural symptoms? Did Skipper mention her at all?"

  "I'm afraid not, but he did mention that the other murdered man was a priest. He was trying to frighten me I think, and it worked. When I went back to my room that night I checked to see if the priest, Father Menning was his name, had left a working diary, which many military priests and chaplains do. But either he never had one or it was seized by the military or so I thought. When Will called and told me what had happened to Talitha, I decided to look through the older diaries to see if any other priests had mentioned something strange about the house. It turns out Father Menning was a bit of a cheapskate and instead of buying his own diary, he just continued in the diary of the priest who served the parish before him."

  He stopped speaking, and ironically fumbled for a few seconds with the buckle of the satchel he was carrying before pulling an old book from it. Flipping it open to the last entry he read aloud in his practiced speaking voice:

  "June 14: An unfortunate event has occurred in the Fortini household, young Emily has fallen ill. She's a regular at Mass and her strong singing voice will be missed. She's been taken to the island's infirmary and her current diagnosis is 'metabolic inconsistency'. Her father may be suffering some mental instability because of this and has asked, nay, demanded that I perform an Exorcism on the poor girl. I explained that I could not do so without permission, and that I would contact Cardinal Spellman as soon as I could. I made the attempt, but got no closer to the Cardinal than the Auxiliary Bishop's personal secretary. He said he's seen this sort of thing time and again, and suggested I administer Last Rites to the girl but just in Latin, since it was unlikely that Col. Fortini would understand the language. He added that by doing this I'd be killing two birds with one stone. I heartily agreed.

  June 15: Just returned from visiting Emily Fortini. After seeing her deplorable condition, I decided on the spot, not to wait on the Rites and performed an Extreme Unction and administered Viaticum as best as I was able under the circumstances. The attending physician told me the poor girl wasn't likely to last through the night and it's my opinion that she won't even make it to dinner. Her skin was amazingly cold to the touch, which the doctor assured me was a symptom of her malady. Col. Fortini still shows mental instability. He left this evening to fetch his mother because as he puts it, "We need her kind of help." Part of me wishes that he doesn't make it back in time, I think it would be better for both the Father and the Daughter."

  Father Alba closed the book, and glanced about nervously. "According to Skipper, the fire-Station got the call around ten that night and he was there personally when they brought the priest's body out, it was mangled..." Father Alba took a deep breath and looked down at the floor.

  "What else did Skipper tell you?" William asked.

  "That the priest was wearing the vestments for the Easter service..."

  "Don't lie to me!" Commander Jern spoke with a quiet but ominous tone, and his eyes, tired as they were, flashed angrily.

  The priest looked suddenly desperate and fearful. "I'm not lying, he said that, but he also said...he said that the body was mangled and bleeding from the eyes! Except he said the eyes were gone, torn out, and the gossip was that he ripped them out himself. And the face was purple...a dark purple that was almost black."

  "Oh," William said without any force in his voice this time. The room was silent for a few minutes as each took in the horrible mental picture. The priest was breathing heavy and his eyes were bulging and wide.

  "Father? What is Extreme Unction and...the other word you said?" Will asked in an effort to end the long silence.

  The question seemed to distract the priest from whatever hellish vision was going through his mind, and he responded steadily, "Viaticum is the word you're looking for and it's part of the Last Rites. It would be the final Eucharist, what people usually call Holy Communion. Extreme Unction is what we call today, Anointing of the Sick. It's a sacrament, a gift of the Holy Spirit, which renews confidence and faith in God and strengthens against the temptations of discouragement, despair, and anguish at the thought of death or the struggle of death."

  The answer seemed to stir William, who sat up a little straighter. "Would this Father Menning have done the Last Rites a second time at the house?"

  "He could, there's no church canon stopping him, but the question is, why would he do it at the house at all, since he had already administered the sacrament at the infirmary? Personally I think that sometime after writing the diary entry he changed his mind and attempted an exorcism."

  "Attempted?" William asked.

  "Yes...they can go disastrously wrong." The priest licked his lips and his eyes went even wider.

  "Is that what you're so afraid of then?" William accused contemptuously. "You didn't seem too afraid when you pulled me into your church playing amateur ghost hunter. But now you have something real to fight and you turn shy, is that it?"

  "Yes," Father Alba admitted in a small voice, "But like I said, I don't even know what we're dealing with. We don't even know if an exorcism will even work. Father Menning might've done everything right. This could be..."

  "We could find Colonel Fortini's mother, if she's still alive that is and ask her," Gayle piped up, cutting across Father Alba, who seemed to be trying to talk himself out of even making the attempt at the exorcism.

  "I tried," the priest said in a small voice. "She wasn't in the phone book."

  William was looking at the priest, shaking his head. "Look Father, could I do the exorcism? Do you have it written somewhere in English?"

  "No. You said yourself, you don't even believe in God."

  "Then I'll do it!" Will cried angrily. "I believe in God and...in the devil...now."

  "No you couldn't do it either. It takes someone much older and wiser to deal with a demon. The demon would treat you like a toy and only play around before it devoured you. I'm not saying I won't do it...I'm just..." he trailed with his thought unfinished.

  William adopted a patient tone with the fearful priest, "Father, I have friends in the FBI. They may be able to find this lady pretty quickly. Most people can be found in a matter of hours if they aren't actively hiding. All I'm asking is that we talk to her and see what really happened and we make our decision from there."

  The priest was shaking his head to say no but instead said, "I'll at least listen to her, but..."

  "Is there another priest we can get who does exorcisms?" Gayle asked hopefully.

  "Yes, but it's almost a waste of time even asking. Ever since the Exorcist movies there are a thousand calls per year for exorcisms and almost all fakes or people on the verge of insanity. We would need proof—hard proof in hand before we applied to the Cardinal to send out an Exorcist. Even then it could take days or weeks just to get him out here. You see, nobody wants to be associated with this sort of thing. But, like I said if you find her, I'll go talk with Mrs. Fortini and see what she has to say. I can do that and maybe more."

  "Well, we have the beginnings of a plan then," William said trying to sound upbeat.

  "I have to go," Father Alba said, but at the instant hard look the Commander gave him, he added, "To pray...in the waiting room. I need to prepare myself. Just in case."

  "Certainly Father, do what you need to do." Gayle responded seeking to hit an understanding note. He left in a hurry. Will didn't think highly of their chances if an exorcism was needed.

  "You two are taking a lot on faith," Gayle said giving
Brian and Lisa a look.

  "I'm not," Brian said, with his usual confidence. "Let me show you." He walked from the room, and was back in seconds carrying a brown bag. From it, he pulled what looked to be an old towel which he gingerly unwrapped, as if afraid to touch what was in it. When he was done, the hilt of the Commander's sword lay on in the towel for all to see.

  What was left of the blade was blackened as if it had been pulled from a fire and was jagged and sharp. The gilded pommel and guard were tarnished with age and only the gold braid that wound around the grip retained any of its original color.

  Will stepped forward to look more closely but Brian waved him back. "Don't touch it! It's nasty and cold like you can't believe. When I got back from the Harris', I saw this sitting against the curb. Here do this, Will." He put his hand over the top of the sword, but kept it an inch away. "You can still feel the cold!"

  Will put out his hand and his eyes flew open in shock. The cold emanated from it like a physical force. They each took turns and when they were done, Brian rewrapped it with the same caution he had shown unwrapping it. "It's defying physics on so many levels, I wish Tal..." He stopped in midsentence, his face clouding over and he began to blink rapidly.

  Gayle reached out with her good hand and patted him on the arm. "Yes, this is the kind of puzzle Talitha would enjoy, well maybe not enjoy but she'd figure it out. I know it."

  "Hey anybody! I gotta pee!" Katie yelled from across the hall— Lisa dashed out of the room.

  Gayle smiled but it was fleeting. She checked the clock on the wall. "Quarter to seven...is there going to be anyone working at the FBI now?"

  William appeared a few steps beyond exhaustion and he blinked up at her dully for a second. "What? Oh yeah...there are always agents on duty. Will, please hand me that phone." He made the call, but it seemed tedious and William appeared to be fading with each question answered. When he finally hung up, he was asleep before he had handed the phone back to his son, and it plopped onto the bed.

  Unfortunately, his nap was only an hour long due to the quick response from the FBI. The agents had compiled a list of four possible names, the most likely of which was an eighty-nine-year-old woman named Adrina Fortini. She lived in Queens not more than thirty minutes away by subway.

  Commander Jern, still looking half-asleep took a great breath and pulled off the leads to his monitors; these immediately went crazy with shrill alarms. He then casually pulled out his IV and left it dangling dripping clear fluids.

  "William! What are you doing?" Gayle started to protest.

  "I have to go, honey. This is Talitha's life. I won't trust it to anybody else. Will, please hand me my clothes...there in that plastic bag."

  "But what about your life? You could have another heart attack." Gayle's voice was full of concern for her husband.

  "Just like you, I'd give up my life for our children. Now I promise to stay in the wheelchair. Ok?" She nodded sadly.

  He struggled into his pants and Brian, who politely faced away, mentioned as if in passing, "I will be going, too."

  "You know I can't allow that," the Commander said.

  "I'm sorry sir, but it's not up to you. I saw the address and I'll either go with you or meet you there." The two looked at each other sternly.

  William was just too tired to put up much of a struggle. "Officially you can't come with us. But go say goodbye to Talitha and get back over here pronto."

  "Yes sir," Brian ran from the room.

  Within ten minutes, they said their goodbyes, signed a release form, handed reluctantly to William by a cranky doctor, collected the priest, and left the hospital.

  5

  The warm June night was beautiful. It was one of those magical nights when kids played well into the dark, screaming with laughter, and everyone but Father Alba felt better.

  He had undergone such a dramatic personality change that it astounded Will. Gone was the peppy man who was always so quick to laugh, and in his place was a dour, pessimistic crank.

  Will's father started well, pushed gently by Brian under the pretty oak trees, but soon his head lolled to the side as he strayed into slumber. He wavered in and out of sleep throughout the ferry ride and the short subway trip into Queens. Even though he was doing almost nothing, Will feared greatly that his father was over doing it. He kept a close eye on the man and demanded that he be left alone as much as possible, and so the Commander missed much of the uneventful trip.

  Adrina's building didn't have an elevator and she lived four stories up. Will considered attempting to carry his father, but William was simply too large. It wasn't just his height; he had the build of a linebacker. When Will woke him up, it took his father a few moments to figure out where he was. William's ashen face went greyer still, when he heard the news that there was no elevator.

  With dreadful slowness, William ascended the stairs, clutching at the railing for support. Each step seemed to take forever and his eyes were half-closed and unfocussed. Near the top, he swayed alarmingly, his breath coming in short gasps, and Brian was just in time with the wheelchair, sliding it under him as he collapsed.

  Will felt strangely nervous about meeting the old lady. It would probably be nothing but a quick conversation yet his heart told him it was going to be more. He had laughed off Lisa's warning to be careful, when he had kissed her goodbye less than an hour before.

  "Be careful? She's like a million years old. I think I can take her if we get into a fight and if not, I'm pretty sure I could out run her." It had seemed like a joke then, but at the moment he was not so certain. A glance at the priest told him he wasn't alone in that uncertainty; the man was tugging almost constantly on the tight collar about his neck.

  Brian pushed William to the door where William hauled himself up out of the chair with his son's help. Not waiting for his father to knock, Will rapped hard on the door. It seemed very loud in the quiet of the corridor and they all waited silently with an air of expectation hanging about them.

  Thirty seconds came and went and just when Will was starting to get angry at the look of relief on the priest's face, there came an almost imperceptible sound of metal sliding on metal. Slowly the doorknob turned and a very small, wizened old lady peered out from a six-inch gap in the doorway. Her hair and skin were a nearly uniform snowy white but her eyes still held their color. They also held a fear that had long passed into terror.

  Will's father drew in a tired breath and said as loud as he could: "Hello! Are you Adrina Fortini? We're looking for the mother of Colonel Tomas Fortini..."

  She stared at him aghast: her mouth slightly open, her dentures hanging loosely from her upper gums, looking too fake and too large. The stare didn't last long. She interrupted William by shrieking in absolute horror and attempted to slam the door in their faces by throwing what was likely all eighty pounds of herself against it. William pushed back as well as he was able, but he was so weak that the old lady began to win the pathetic battle. Feeling embarrassed for his father, Will gently reached out—so as not to knock the lady over—and pushed the door slowly open.

  "No!" she shrieked. "No! Not like this! Not like this!" She turned away from them, her face almost comical in its terrible fear and instead of running as Will thought she would do, she fell to her hands and threw up in a great heaving retch. She spewed out some more and this time her dentures came out too. Will stood staring at the sight, stunned by what was happening and missed his father fainting backwards only to be caught by an alert Brian.

  "Mrs. Fortini? It's ok, we won't hurt you," Will tried to sound as sweet as he could.

  "No God! Please no. Please no," she moaned to the floor, her head shaking back and forth with a long string of saliva and vomit swinging from her chin.

  Will bent down and touched her lightly on the shoulder. "Mrs. Fortini..."

  "Oh, God!" She reached back with one hand clutching her bottom, and then scrambled up, hurrying to the bathroom. She hadn't been quick enough, however and Will's face wrinkled in d
isgust at the powerful stench of concentrated urine, that only the very old seem able to produce.

  He waved the others into the apartment and they all stood about in mute embarrassment looking at the aging decor and the fading pictures. Will went to the kitchen, grabbed some paper towels and cleaned up the mess Adrina had made as best as he could, including rinsing out the dentures. These he left on the old wood kitchen table that looked as aged and worn as the lady herself.

  The water ran in the bathroom for a few minutes and then Adrina came out and simply said, "Excuse me," before stepping into what looked to be her bedroom. Five minutes later, she came out wearing a different black dress and a black cardigan. She paused in the doorway and looked at each of them in turn. There was no sign of shame on her wrinkled features, nor was there any evidence of the stark terror she'd exhibited. Adrina came across in fact, to be defiant as if they had done something other than knock on her door.

  "You asked about Tomas? I am his mother. I know why you're here," she added, cryptically. Her voice sounded slightly mushy-sounding.

  "Mrs. Fortini, your dentures are right over here. I rinsed them off for you." Will indicated the paper towel on the table. When she looked at it, her defiance seemed to wilt slightly.

  Breathing a large sigh, she went over to the table and with a shy girlishness, she turned away and put them in her mouth. The old lady sucked on them as quietly as she could and then, facing the four strange men in her apartment, said with a slight accent that Will couldn't place, "The demon, it's back, correct?"

  Will's father, who had been slipping into almost a stupor, seemed roused by the statement. "How did you know?"

  "Because I know," she said sharply. She walked among them, touching them lightly, placing the flat of her hand to their chests. Will was surprised when she spoke next, because her voice was filled with anger. "This is what I have to work with? I have to..." She stopped in midsentence and looked at Will. "You..."