The Devil's Cat

by William W. Johnstone

  Sam stood in the center of the room. Javotte noted that the man was not even breathing hard.

  "Back out of the door, Padre," Sam told him. "Check the outside before you step out."

  Javotte opened the door and glanced out, looking left and right. "It's clear."

  "You folks have a real nice day," Sam told the barroom crowd. "Next time is going to be much more interesting, I assure you."

  He stepped out into God's sunlight and joined Javotte. The two men walked swiftly to the pickup. Sam cranked up and drove off.

  "That was very exhilarating!" Javotte said.

  Sam laughed. "And that was good shooting, Padre."

  "Thank you. Target shooting is a favorite hobby of mine."

  "Could you kill a human being, Padre?"

  "We're not facing human beings, Sam. Could I kill an innocent? No. Could I, would I, kill a follower of Satan? Yes."

  Sam nodded his head, his eyes and attention on a group of cats padding noiselessly up the sidewalk that ran alongside the street. "They're pacing us," Sam noted. Then he cut his eyes to the other side of the street. He slowed, then stopped the pickup. "No, they're not pacing us. They seem to be going somewhere. Do you get that feeling, Padre?"

  The priest watched the parade of cats, lines of them. Hundreds of them had appeared. They were all padding off to the northeast, angling through alleys and side streets.

  "Yes. They seem to have a definite destination in mind."

  "But where?"

  Father Javotte was silent for a moment, his eyes on the cats. "I don't like what I'm thinking, Sam."

  "Let me see if I like it or not."

  "Let's assume the cats have a destination in mind. It certainly appears that way. Perhaps they are, well, going to a meeting or a gathering of some sort?"

  "Go on."

  "But animals are not prone to do that sort of thing, right?"

  "Not to my knowledge. But these cats are under the power of …"

  Sam let that drift off, the words hanging in the air.

  "Precisely," Javotte said.

  "He does not make appearances in the daylight, Padre."

  "No. I would think not. Perhaps the cats are leaving a bit early, to get a good seat." The priest started laughing, with just a bit of hysteria touching the words.

  "Padre?"

  Javotte wiped his eyes and sobered. "Forgive me, Sam. The dark humor of what I was saying struck home. I'm sitting here discussing cats going early to a meeting, in order to get a good seat. It would be very easy to lose one's grip on reality in this matter, would it not?"

  "Very easy." He put the pickup in gear and moved out. "Let's tag along, Padre. See where they're going."

  It was not a long drive. The cats were gathering in a vacant field just a short distance behind the old Dorgenois mansion, just behind Dumaine Street.

  "Now we know," Javotte said.

  "I've seen this," Sam said, a tenseness in his voice. "They're calling out Satan."

  "Tonight."

  It was not a question, for the priest could sense the gathering evil.

  "Tonight."

  10

  When Sam and Father Javotte drove back to the main street of town, a Louisiana State Trooper car was parked by the side of a Mom and Pop convenience store at the northernmost edge of Main Street. Sam pulled into the parking area just as a young trooper was walking out of the store, a soft drink in one hand, a candy bar in the other.

  "You know him?" Sam asked the priest.

  "I've seen him in town quite a few times. But no, I don't know his name."

  The trooper, smiling, walked toward the truck. His name tag read "Norris." Sam and Javotte got out of the pickup.

  "Afternoon, Trooper," Sam said.

  "Howdy," Trooper Norris replied. "Ya'll must have had one whale of a storm around here."

  "Yes," Javotte said. "You didn't get any storms in, ah? …"

  "Jonesville," the trooper finished it. "No, sir. It's dry as a bone just a couple miles outside of Becancour. What's with this town, Father?"

  Javotte and Sam exchanged quick glances. "What do you mean?" Javotte asked.

  The stocky young trooper took a bite of candy and a swig of soda. "Well, ya'll look clean. But you're the first people I've seen in town that didn't need a bath. Is there some sort of water shortage around here?"

  "There's a shortage, all right," Sam said. "But it has nothing to do with water."

  "Is that right?" Norris said. "You want to explain that?"

  "You wouldn't believe us, Trooper," Javotte said.

  "Ya'll got my interest up now. Where was all those cats headin' awhile ago?"

  "To get a ringside seat for the big show that's going to take place tonight," Sam said. He could not help but smile at the trooper's expression.

  "Say what?"

  "You off duty?" Sam asked.

  "No. But I will be in four hours. You guys been drinkin'?"

  "No," Javotte assured him. "Well, that's not quite true. We each had a short beer about a half hour ago."

  "Down at Lula's Love-Inn," Sam said.

  Norris eyeballed the priest. Now he was really confused. "Father, what were you doin' in Lula's Love-Inn?"

  "Confronting a group of devil worshipers."

  The trooper leaned forward. "Doin' what?"

  "The town is possessed," Sam told him.

  Norris looked long at Sam. Then he looked at Javotte. "Are you a real priest?"

  "For twenty-odd years, Trooper. Are you a religious man, Trooper?"

  "I try to go to church a couple of times a month. But I'm not a fanatic on the subject, no, sir."

  "Not one of those who gathered is," Sam mused aloud. "That's interesting."

  Trooper Norris devoured the last of his candy bar and took a sip of soda. "Not one of those who gathered … where?"

  "At two places around town," Sam said. "You know Deputy Lenoir and Chief Passon, Trooper?"

  "Sure."

  "Good, solid, and very dependable men, right, Trooper?"

  "All the way."

  "Would you believe them if they told you they were convinced that the forces of Satan had taken over this town?"

  Trooper Norris backed up a step. He wasn't sure exactly what he was confronting here. For sure, a couple of whackos. But? … The doubts lingered in his mind. Something was damn sure wrong with those he'd seen in town—all except these two guys. Sonny Passon was an ex-trooper, highly decorated. If Sonny said something was wrong in town, he'd have to give that some serious thought. Then he'd …

  … do what?

  Shit! he didn't know what he'd do. "The town is possessed?" Norris asked.

  "That is correct," Javotte said.

  "You got devil worshipers runnin' around?"

  "That's right," Sam said.

  "I think you're both nuts!"

  "You know Dr. Livaudais?" Javotte asked.

  "I sure do."

  "He's another who is convinced."

  'Yeah?" Maybe if he could get to his radio, he could call in and have somebody get the hell in here to back him up, 'cause these two Moon Pies might get violent any moment.

  The sounds of singing reached Trooper Norris's ears. "What's that?"

  "Cliff Lester and his flock. They are preparing to march on Becancour sometime this afternoon."

  "For what? Do they think the … devil is running around here, too?"

  "In a manner of speaking," Javotte told him.

  "Where is Don and Sonny?"

  "Don is at the clinic. Sonny is at the Dorgenois house."

  "Let's go see them."

  Sonny talked to the trooper for a moment.

  Norris started drumming his boot heels on the floor, his expression a mixture of humor and concern.

  Matt Comeaux began speaking.

  Norris stopped drumming his heels and sat still.

  C. D. picked it up and told what he knew.

  Norris started jumping up and down. "Are you serious?" he hollered.

>   "Call Don at the clinic," Sonny suggested.

  "I damn sure will!" Trooper James A. Norris stalked to the phone and jerked it up. He paused for a moment. "You're all pulling my leg, right? You been waiting on me to come back in here just so you could pull this on me, right?"

  His question was met by a wall of cold silence.

  He experienced a strange clammy sensation in the small of his back. It started right at the base of his spine and, like a wet snake, began slowly slithering up his backbone.

  Norris replaced the receiver in its cradle. His mouth was very dry. He looked up toward the second-floor landing. A couple of dozen kids were standing there, by the railing, looking down at him. Then the awful truth dawned on him. No one was pulling his leg. This wasn't a joke. It was all . . . everything they'd told him …

  … was true.

  Trooper First Class Norris cleared his throat and swallowed hard. He thought of a dozen different ideas, rejecting them as fast as they entered his head. He sat back down in the chair.

  "What made you come here?" Sam asked the trooper.

  Norris looked at the man. "Why … I, ah, don't know. The only time I ever come to Becancour is when there is a wreck involving a fatality. Well, I mean, I patrol the highway occasionally, but usually I leave that up to Don. That's been the deal between the sheriff and my troop commander for as long as I've been a trooper."

  "Why?" Sam asked.

  Norris thought about that for a moment, then he got the drift of Sam's question. "Oh, there's nothing sinister about it. It's just that Don doesn't have that much to do. Nothing ever happens in Becancour."

  "James," Sonny said. "You can't remember why you came here?"

  "No. I was just … driving, then when I looked up, here I was. Am."

  "When does your shift end?"

  "This is my short day. I get off at four o'clock this afternoon and don't go back on until two o'clock Sunday afternoon."

  "It will be all over by then," Sam said. "One way or the other."

  Norris shuddered and looked at Sam. "Just who in the hell are you, anyway?"

  Sam told him. The telling took about five minutes. When he was finished, Trooper J. A. Norris was sweating profusely.

  Norris rose from his chair and walked out of the house into the backyard. He just needed to be alone for a time. He sat down in a swing and swung back and forth, slowly. He felt like running off into the woods, waving his arms and shrieking at the top of his lungs.

  He began rocking and humming. He stopped his humming when he realized what it was: "Three Blind Mice."

  "Who is this highway patrolman?" Xaviere asked Janet.

  "Nobody."

  "Don't be too sure of that," the Princess gently admonished the young woman. "He didn't just come here by accident."

  "Who here would summon him, and why?"

  Xaviere shook her head. "He wasn't summoned. He was sent. He probably doesn't realize he was, but he was sent."

  "But why?"

  Xaviere shrugged her shoulders. "I am not privy God's communiques. Although I doubt it is God interfering."

  "The old mercenary?"

  "Yes. God turns His back and allows Michael a great deal more license than our Master would ever allow us."

  The sky suddenly darkened and lightning licked at the earth, followed by the rumbling of thunder.

  Xaviere and Janet both cringed, knowing who had sent the signals—The Dark One.

  Winds suddenly entered the aging mansion, whipping the filthy drapes and blowing out the candles in the room, plunging the room into darkness.

  The winds whistled and sighed around the ankles of the two young women.

  As quickly as the winds came, they went. The candles came back to flame.

  Xaviere and Janet both sighed a breath of relief.

  TFC James Norris beat it back to the house when the lightning began licking at the earth. Smart-mouthed truck drivers, drunk motorists, and bad wrecks were something he could handle. Wind lightning in the middle of the day was another matter.

  The younger kids at the clinic began crying as the brief storm lashed at the outside. With fifteen kids to one adult, those at the clinic had their hands full trying to calm the kids, keep them occupied, fix snacks, and keep the bathroom lines in order. All breathed a bit easier when the skies once more cleared.

  "There it is!" Brother Cliff Lester hollered from the pulpit. "The sign, Brothers and Sisters. Gird your loins and prepare to march, carrying the banner of freedom from filth!" The lightning and thunder faded.

  Elmer was a little bit confused. He knew how to march, but what was that bit about the loins?

  He didn't have much time to think about it, for everybody in the church stood up and began marching and singing … the marching in step; the singing in Tongues.

  Then Elmer remembered he had forgotten to tell the other men to arm themselves. Oh, well, he mentally shrugged that off as the urge to babble struck him. It wouldn't much matter … So he followed out the door.

  Brother Lester raced to catch up and move to the front of the line. If they could pull this off, this could be the start of something big in Central Louisiana. TeeVee people might even come in and interview him. Hot damn! he thought.

  No one noticed the teenage girl who ran back to the church to use the bathroom. Or the two men who were hiding behind the church … waiting.

  Twice Trooper Norris had started his car to pull out, just get away from this crazy town. Twice he had shut it down. He looked toward the mansion. That Sam Balon was standing on the wide porch, his arms folded across his chest, looking at him.

  With a sigh, Trooper James A. Norris lifted his mike and called into his troop. "Log me 10-7," he said.

  "10-4," Dispatch replied. "Have fun, James."

  "Yeah," Norris said, with about as much enthusiasm as someone getting ready for a double root canal. He slowly walked up the sidewalk to face Sam. "Why am I doing this?"

  "Somebody far, far away, but yet very close, asked you to do it."

  "God?" Norris whispered the word.

  "No," Sam said with a smile. "Some call him God's mercenary."

  "God has a mercenary?"

  "He's a warrior. I've spoken with him several times."

  Norris started to sweat again. He reached out his hand and gently touched Sam's arm, as if he expected his hand to go right through; as if Sam might not be of this world.

  "I'm human," Sam assured him. "I like a good drink of bourbon, a cold beer, an occasional football game on TV and I really enjoy making love to my wife."

  "I'm not married."

  "Any special lady in your life?"

  "Naw. Nobody ever takes me seriously enough. I been a clown for so long, people never know when to take me seriously."

  "Rita thinks you're cute."

  "She's married."

  "She threw her husband out. He's one of those who joined the other side."

  That brought it all back into perspective. "Burt is? …"

  "Yeah."

  "Sam? What's the plan?"

  "I don't have one. The rules state that I can make no overt hostile move unless first provoked."

  Norris stared at him. "The rules?"

  "It's a game, Trooper," Javotte said, walking out onto the porch. "Not one that our God enjoys, but a game nonetheless."

  "What are the odds?"

  "About a hundred and fifty to one," Sam said. "Against us."

  James sat down on the porch. "Why did I have to ask?" he muttered.

  11

  The line of singing, shouting, arm-waving, and hip-shaking marchers reached a small convenience store located on the northern edge of Becancour's main business drag. The store sold beer and booze and bread and cold cuts and canned goods and gasoline—and girlie magazines. Not the X-rated type of magazines, but those that did "Show it all, man."

  Brother Cliff Lester threw open the front door and stepped inside. Taking a deep breath, just knowing this would get him a slot on Donahue, he dramati
cally announced, "We are the Committee for the Removal of All Pornography."

  The young man behind the counter, not a part of either side of the invisible struggle going on around him, just knowing that he felt weird, looked up at Brother Cliff Lester. "That spells CRAP, man."

  "I beg your pardon!" Lester roared.

  "You know, that does spell crap," Elmer said to Sister Sally.

  "Hush your mouth, Elmer!" Sister Sally whispered. "We're doin' Lord's work here."

  "I don't know," Elmer muttered. "But the fried chicken was good."

  Sister Sally withered Elmer silent with a frosty look.

  "Clear that rack of filth!" Lester yelled, pointing to the magazine rack.

  "Carry your ass on out of here, you redneck!" the young man told him.

  "How dare you speak to me in that manner!" Brother Lester yelled. "Don't you know who I am?"

  "I know you're a crazy nut!" the assistant manager said. "Get outta here."

  Brother Lester looked heavenward. "Lord, give me patience before I strike this poor heathen hip and thigh."

  The young man rose from his stool, walked around the counter, and busted Brother Lester on the snoot with a solid right.

  Brother Lester's butt hit the floor as the blood from his bent beak poured. There was a look of astonishment on his face. With both hands to his bleeding nose, he looked around at his flock. "'Eize 'em 'ilthy 'ooks!" he said, pointing to the rack.

  Sister Sally, all two hundred and forty pounds of her. bulled her way through the crowd and began snatching up the magazines, ripping them apart. Elmer grabbed one of the glossies.

  "Look at them pictures," he breathed.

  The young man grabbed up a spray can of Mace from behind the counter and gave Sister Sally a squirt.

  Sister Sally hit the floor and went into convulsions.

  Only those Brothers and Sisters standing in the door knew what really happened. Those outside saw only that Sister Sally hit the floor and began jerking.

  "She's in the spirit!" one yelled.

  "And so is Brother Elmer!" another one yelled.

  Elmer was on his hands and knees, attempting to gather up as many of the torn pages as possible. He'd never seen anything like this in all his life. He'd never even seen his wife naked. Not that he'd wanted to in the last twenty years.