The Trilogy of the Void: The Complete Boxed Set

by Peter Meredith

  Katie now shot her eyes in her mother's direction hoping that Gayle would see her, but she was looking back into the kitchen wearing a fearful expression. Katie ducked back down and searched around the edges of the carpet, a few feet away she found a paperclip and poking her head back up saw that everyone's attention was still on the kitchen. She tossed the clip at her mother.

  Gayle jumped in surprise and then the mother and daughter locked eyes. It didn't seem possible, but to Katie her mother appeared to grow even more terrified at the sight of her. It was unsettling. It made her second guess herself.

  'Run!' Gayle mouthed the word. 'Now, run!'

  Katie shook her head, no. She would run, there was no doubting that, in fact she dearly wanted to run even then, but first she would do everything she could to free her mother. Unfortunately, there didn't seem a lot she could do.

  Dropping down again, she crawled to the doorway, hoping to be able to dart around it and get into the living room quick, only it appeared impossible. Of the knot of men in the kitchen, two of them, wearing matching looks of unease were facing right at her not twenty feet away. Luckily, their attention was focused away from her. They were looking down at Pedro, who was currently lying on the ground, moaning lightly.

  Just then, Amy came into view and began beating the dazed looking man with the shaft of a broom handle. Katie was so shocked at this that all she could do was stare. It was a dreadful cruel scene, devoid of any humanity and just watching it sucked almost the last bit of courage and determination out of the young girl. She pulled back again behind the low dividing wall and tried to control her breathing. She was close to hyperventilating.

  With a second glance around the corner of the door, Katie began to practically pant. She had a clearer view of the men in the kitchen and saw that all of them carried weapons. Some had pistols only, but quite a few held large black military style weapons. Whether they were machine guns or assault rifles, she didn't know, yet for some reason these words began to take on an importance to her causing her fear to escalate.

  There was no way that she was going to be able to save her mother. Not then. There were too many men nearby and the house's open floor plan meant that sneaking about would be next to impossible. It would be all she could do even to save herself. The door that led to the deck was in view of the men as well and though she could make a dash for it, the guns made her too terrified to even try.

  "Get two men to clean him up. The rest, I want watching out for the girl. There are pictures all around this place in case these morons don't know who to look for."

  The Girl! So they were waiting for her. It was one thing to guess at this, but hearing it for herself knocked the wind out of her chest. A second later, Katie heard a soft footstep approaching and a shadow fell across the doorway and with it came the scent of a woman's perfume. Amy was just on the other side of the wall, not three feet from her. Now Katie was thoroughly terrified, her heart thundered within her and an uncontrollable shaking took over her body. Moments before she had been close to hyperventilating and now it felt as if she couldn't breathe at all.

  "Diablo! Get someone to move this corpse. Hey, Gayle. Where do you keep the sheets?" Amy was talking about her father, and had used the word corpse. Her father was dead. She had known it. Katie had heard the horrible scream, she had seen the body. But corpse? Was he now a corpse? That couldn't be right, could it?

  The word corpse acted like a gradual eclipse in her mind, slowly shutting off all thinking so that nothing much made sense. Corpses, gypsies, swords, escape. Everything began to form into a stew of images, which whirled around inside her until her insides were a complete mush.

  Thankfully for her, instinct took over.

  Her instincts told her that she had to hide. She had to crawl away and find a place to cower. At the moment, it was all she was capable of doing and with only the slightest whisper of her sweat pants sliding on the floor she slithered back behind the long couch that sat up against the wall. There she curled up as best she could.

  "No!" her mom whispered the word, but it came to Katie's ears clear as day. What was she saying no to? Were they going to kill her now? Was she about to be stabbed with that horrible sword? And what did the sword do? Why did Amy want it so bad? Was it magical? Did it have powers?

  The sword did have a power she realized. It had turned her wonderful father into a corpse. A corpse. The word was so terribly upsetting that she felt like vomiting. And now her mother would be next. She would be just like her dad, a staring, vacant-eyed corpse.

  This was too much for Katie. She yanked her hood over her head and stuffed her hands in her ears and tried not to think about anything. A stray dust bunny sat near at hand and this she focused on, crying silent tears. It helped a little and she pretended not to hear her mother's pleading voice, or the sounds of her being smacked around, or her heart wrenching sobs. She pretended instead that she was nothing. A dust bunny too.

  Chapter 17

  Will

  A shout had Will half-awake and hearing his name a second later got his bleary eyes blinking stupidly. He had been dreaming about a river. The water of it was slow moving and it held the reflections of surrounding hills on its glittering surface.

  "Huh? What?" he asked one of the bishop's men. At the moment, Will couldn't remember the man's name. The river was fading quickly from his mind, but all the same, he knew that river. It was so familiar.

  "It's your sister," the man said and the words caused the river to evaporate in his mind and the dream left him.

  "Will, get this priest away from me!" Talitha's voice rang out over the steady drone of the Gulfstream IV's two burly jet engines. They were riding in easily the fanciest and fastest jet Will had ever had the pleasure to sit in. Everything was leather and shining brass. It was on loan from the cardinal and Will didn't want to give it back.

  "Coming," Will answered, guessing he knew what the trouble was. Before he had come back to his seat to nap, Father Vogel had begun a form of hypno-therapy on Talitha. Though it would've worked better on Will. With the humming of the engines and the priests droning voice, he had been quickly yawning.

  Just as he was about to climb out of the leather chair, he saw the priest heading his way, blinking as if in surprise and holding his hand to a blazing red cheek. "Your sister is reluctant to proceed with her therapy," Vogel said, understating the problem masterfully. The purpose of the therapy had been to attempt to channel Talitha's more diabolical memories toward memories that were innocent. The idea not being to suppress the memories but to manage them. He had used the example, "Instead of picturing a lion, you will imagine a cat, and then you will envision a playful kitten." It had seemed to start well; Talitha did like kittens after all.

  Initially, Will had been reluctant. While they were drinking their screwdrivers in his kitchen, waiting on the bishop, Father Vogel had broached the idea of hypno-therapy again. "I think your reasoning not to allow this, Will is no longer valid. Talitha has done what you needed her to do and with the unit the bishop is bringing with him, you no longer need a personal killing machine."

  That wasn't necessarily so, but it was likely. Talitha had sniffed out a total of three other men that had left with Amy Harris and if they were anything like the four who had stayed to be killed, he wasn't terribly worried. They had the look of street toughs, and their pathetic aim suggested that they weren't trained professionals. Still, Will had hemmed and hawed until the unit showed up. There were four of them and each was slim and of average height. They carried themselves and their military style weapons with authority, running their hard looking eyes over everything around them. Will was impressed by their maturity, as much as by their bearing. Two were running grey through their hair, while the youngest had to be thirty at the least.

  For the first time in a few days, Will felt the smallest reassurance. The bishop less so. Will adamantly refused to hand over the incantations since his wife and unborn daughter were still in peril. Nor would he allow th
e police to be called. He sensed desperation in Amy's actions as if she were gambling everything on getting that sword and he was afraid of what would happen if she were backed into a corner. Instead of involving the police, he planned to use the bishop's contacts to find out where Amy had been staying and perhaps more importantly, where she might be going.

  In the mean time, Will was going to Arizona where his gut told him that he would find Amy. The reason for this was his little sister, Katie. Amy had practically told him that she wanted to bring Ba'al back by using the sword, but Amy wasn't a fool. It was very likely that due to her virgin status, Katie would be held in reserve as a backup plan to whatever Amy had in mind. After what had happened to Talitha eight years ago, Will's insides went queer at the thought. Yet this was his main hope in catching up to the witch. Having Katie and perhaps his parents as hostages meant that whatever Amy was going to do would likely be within driving distance of Phoenix.

  The bishop, not wanting to implicate the church in the many illegalities that were likely going to take place, stayed behind in Maine to co-ordinate the various searches. The most important of these was the difficult job of narrowing down all the places associated with great death in and around Phoenix. Rich in old blood was how the gypsy Adrina Fortini described their home back on Governor's Island and this same concept had to be applied to a large portion of the desert state. Will tried not to think what a daunting task it would be and instead said a quick prayer every time his mind wandered over the near impossibility of the undertaking.

  The initial mission that Will had laid out for the unit seemed quite simple and easy in comparison. It was most likely in vain, but they were going to Will's parent's house on the off chance they would find his family held hostage there. That was the best-case scenario, but also the least likely. The next best situation was that they would find a few more of Amy's thugs hanging around. The men of the unit were under orders from Will not to shoot to kill if at all possible, he wanted a chance to interrogate them. Unfortunately, the most likely thing to happen is that they would find the place deserted. Because the unit seemed so capable and Amy's thugs so unskilled, Will figured that the biggest problem he would come across would be controlling his sister.

  This was why he had finally allowed the hypno-therapy to occur. "Being slapped in the face is a sign of reluctance?" Feeling as if he were at least partially to blame for Talitha's actions, Will tried to make light of the fact that the priest had been hit.

  Vogel gave him a slight smile and then worked his jaw around a bit. "In order for this to work, she has to want it and I don't think she does. It doesn't make any sense."

  "I agree," Will replied with a sigh. "Does it seem to you that she has become kinda closed off? It's been getting bad all day, but ever since she found that vodka, there's been a wall up."

  "I think I need to sit down," the priest looked weary. He collapsed into the nearest seat and rubbed again at his face. "I barely know her. But I suppose...yes. She does seem quieter than she had been. It could be that she's remembering more."

  "Will that trigger a change over to her worse side?"

  Vogel thought for a while, looking down the back of the plane at the pretty girl. "Possibly."

  Beside him, bundled in a blanket so that she looked to be just sleeping, Lisa lay as if dead. Will touched her cheek gently, "Watch her, will you? I'm going to talk to Talitha." The priest nodded and Will heaved himself up, checking his watch. He was surprised to see how long he had napped, there was only another two hours left in the flight.

  "Will..." for some reason Father Vogel seemed suddenly a little nervous. "Would you mind terribly if I administered last rites to Lisa? I'm not suggesting that there isn't hope for her, by doing this."

  "Go ahead, please. Anything you can do for her would be great."

  Will left the priest and squeezed up the aisle, giving a smile to each of the four men as he passed. They nodded in return, but generally averted their gaze from his battered face, perhaps embarrassed for him. The men were tense and each fiddled with or cleaned their weapons and had done so almost continually throughout the plane ride.

  "What kind of gun is that?" he asked the leader of the unit, a man who went by the name Abe. It was short for Abraham which itself was only a code name. All the men had biblical code names, but tended to shorten them somewhat.

  The man sitting next to Abe, the youngest of the group answered for him, "It's a Caw fifteen."

  Will had never heard of such a weapon. It looked like an M16 but smaller and more nimble. "A Caw fifteen? I've never heard of a Caw before. Is it new?"

  All the men in the little unit laughed as if this was quite the funniest thing. Will glowered until the eldest of the group, a man with a tight set of wrinkles running from the edges of his eyes, and grey at the temples of his brown hair spoke up, "Zeke here is from Bhaaston, Massachusetts. So don't feel bad that you can't understand him. They talk weird there. It's a CAR 15. Just like an M16, only it's better in an urban setting. Less range, but better handling in close. I'm Jake."

  "Will Jern." The man held out his hand and Will shook it firmly, perhaps a touch too firm since he was still a bit miffed about the raucous laughter. "You guys have any questions about what we're up against?" Will had hardly spoken to any of the men other than to outline the bare bones plan of his.

  Abe, the smallest of the men at maybe just over five and half feet in height, and the second oldest looking, replied, "Yeah we have tons of questions. You really didn't give us much to go on, other than to say you expected our opposition was to consist of three men and a woman and that none were to be killed if at all possible. What kind of home are they going to be in? Bi-level? Ranch? Is there a basement? What kind of neighborhood are we going to be fighting in? "

  The Bostonian, Zeke, who had a fine thick head of black hair, which set off a pair of inquisitive blue eyes spoke before Will had a chance to answer any of Abe's questions. "An' what kind of weaponry will they have? Pistols like the othah fellahs?"

  "What about the demon?" Jake added, causing all the men to nod in agreement. "The bishop said there was a demon. What do we do about that?"

  The fourth man added nothing; he was a dark haired Hispanic. His code name was Timothy, which in no way jibed with his coal black eyes that bored into Will; those hard eyes made the big man a trifle uncomfortable—Will tried not to look him as he spoke, "First, I don't know what kind of guns they'll have. Pistols probably. Secondly, the house is a ranch, it doesn't have a basement, and the closest neighbor is at least a half of a mile away. It borders on the Sonoran desert, which has some sand dunes, but is mostly hard baked and craggy. The house is shaped...like a capital T."

  "But what about the demon?" Jake persisted. "What do we do about it?"

  "Hold on, just a second," Will paused, wondering how to proceed. He hadn't thought about what would happen if the demon was there already. It would be chaos that was for sure. "If the demon is already there, you shoot to kill, everyone but the woman. Don't hesitate, just start shooting."

  "But what about the demon?" Jake asked again.

  "The demon? I wouldn't bother shooting at it. There will be a big column of black smoke, but that is just some weird effect. The demon will actually not be there at all; it will still be in hell. The smoke only marks where the gate to hell is."

  Their guns would be useless and that meant someone would have to challenge the fiend, and that someone would likely have to be himself. Forgetting briefly about his sister, Will sat down again, feeling far older than his twenty-five years. Could he go against the demon again? Doubt struck him heavily, making his insides quiver uncomfortably and instead of seeing his past victories as a sign that he had a chance that he could win yet again, he saw instead that Talitha wasn't the only one cursed. Depression tried to sinks its ugly teeth into him, but he gave a shake to his head. "You know I could be wrong about shooting it. It won't hurt to try. But I do know that everyone will need to be baptized again and Father Vogel wil
l need to hear your confessions. Father Vogel... do you have everything that you need? The proper vestments? Oil of Chrism?"

  "I have everything I need, Will," the priest responded in a vague manner from four rows away. Just then he was kneeling in the aisle, praying over Lisa.

  "The four of us have been to Mass this morning and have already confessed..." Abe began, but was interrupted by Jake who elbowed the man in the side.

  "Yeah, there's nothing like confessing to a bishop! You should have seen Zeke coming out of the confessional. His ears were so red, I could've lit a cigarette on them." The four laughed easily again, yet Will couldn't find it in him to do more than crack a lopsided smile.

  Will nodded. "Ok then, good. So if the demon's there, and trust me there will be no doubt in the matter if he is, then the men Amy has with her have to die. And they have to die quick. The witch will have to die as well, but she just can't be shot. You have to take her hand and the hand of...her victim." He had to pause as he felt his throat tighten up. "There will be a girl there...uh, blonde and cute. She's gonna look asleep or maybe even dead." A second time he had to stop for a moment to collect himself. "Someone will have to tie the Father's stole around her hand and that of the witch's hand and only then can you kill her. I hope that I will be the one to do it, but if I can't, then one of you will have to. And if you do, there'll be a moment where you're going to be between two worlds. Our world and hell. You have to call to Katie, the blonde girl I mean. Call her and bring her out."

  "When you say witch, what do you mean exactly?" Abe asked running his hands through his thinning blonde/grey hair. "A real witch? Despite how worked up Bishop Keenan was, I'm having trouble accepting much of this." The others murmured in agreement.

  "The woman who has the sword is for real, though I'm not quite sure what sort of spells she can work. She did that." Will pointed to his wife. "It's not a coma. There's nothing physically wrong with her at all, only she can't wake up. Amy did something to her."