“Best not to ponder on it, Cooter.”
Cooter looked up at his pal as though in tacit agreement.
Charlie rocked and drank his whiskey—Cooter dozed and dreamed of fat, white rabbits.
The force in the basement summoned its minions.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
"Okay, Mag, your belly is full and you've had more than enough brandy. Explain this 'pneuma akatharta' bullshit!"
"Not bullshit, my friend. Something despicable has come to this town. Things you have told me, things I have felt, tell me this is true."
Saul did not disbelieve Mag, but neither did he understand him. "Despicable could describe a lot of things, Mag. Could you be a bit more specific?"
"Are basically four types of evil spirits: Ancestral spirits, what we call ghosts; spirits of trauma; spirits of sin, and; spirits of the occult. Worse are spirits of the occult."
"And," asked Saul,"what makes these occult spirits so nasty?"
"Because, my friend, they are true demons."
Saul was taken aback by Mag's disclosure and, perhaps out of disbelief, perhaps out of fear, responded flippantly with, "What, you mean demons as in Linda Blair?"
"Exactly what I mean, Saul. That movie, The Exorcist, was based on true story of young boy possessed by demons. You don't want to believe, I know, but are many types of demons, not least of which is the Antichrist."
"Jesus, Mag, give me a break! You expect me to believe that the Antichrist has chosen to visit Van Horn?"
"Don't know which demon is here, Saul. Maybe not even demon at all, maybe some other evil spirit.
"Am tired now. Here, you read while I sleep."
A book on demonology was not Saul's idea of light late-night reading. He had to admit though that the storm raging outside was the perfect accompaniment to the literature he was perusing. Although disinclined to accept the existence of demons, Saul was captivated by the book's content. He learned that the demonic cannot simply enter this world at will, that it must be given some type of permission to do so. Such permission could be granted--purposefully or not--via Ouija boards, trance mediums, séances, and Satanism. Saul discovered that it is even possible for the demonic to invade or infest a person's life by way of a diabolically-charged object. Once infestation has transpired, the demonic oppresses the individual and attempts to dominate his/her will. Last, but certainly not least, the demonic possesses the individual. Saul had seen enough horror flicks to know that possession is a big deal. What he did not realize, however, was that true possession occurred only after the individual's own spirit was totally replaced by the inhuman spirit--the demonic. Was someone in Van Horn truly possessed? Sure, a lot of bizarre stuff had been going on but, to the best of Saul's knowledge, it had not involved one specific person, or had it? Saul mentally summarized the recent events:
Paul Forsythe had fallen down his basement stairs. Saul had felt very uncomfortable at the Forsythe ranch and had heard the incorporeal words, "Get out, shaman," as he had tended to Paul in the Forsythe basement. Saul had "seen" Hillie Perkins on the Forsythe porch; had smelled something putrid in the Forsythe house; had spotted a black cat with yellow eyes on the Forsythe roof.
Charlie had experienced trouble with the electricity at the Forsythe place; had shivered from extreme cold in the ranch's basement; had observed an invidious image envelop Lukas Duncan in the Forsythe basement; had developed a mysterious abscess on his nose that was free of etiological microorganisms; had tried to prepare food that refused to cook; had seen, then not seen, a black cat with lemon-yellow eyes.
Cooter had refused to enter the Forsythe house.
Saul realized that whatever had been going on had started right after Paul's accident. Also, although he and Charlie seemed to be the major players in whatever melodrama was unfolding, neither of them exhibited the telltale signs of possession the book described: Wild, hateful eyes; voice changes; memory loss; unusual strength; a change in physical features. Although the abscess on Charlie's nose had disfigured him for a while, Saul didn't believe that counted as a change in features, he would have to ask Mag. At any rate, it was clear to Saul that there was one recurring theme here: The Forsythe ranch.
Saul had been so caught up in his reading and thoughts that he had completely lost track of the time. The VCR's clock informed him that it was three a.m. and that gave Saul quite a start. The book he had been reading asserted that 0300 was the hour of the Antichrist! The sudden and unexpected shrill of the telephone stimulated Saul's anal sphincter to tighten up like Scrooge's purse strings!
"Hello? Dr. Feener here." Static. "Hello?"
"Hell--O, Shaman. We have arrived."
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“Mag! Wake up!
“Dammit, wake up!" Saul shook his friend awake.
"What the hell going on? Why you..." Mag could tell, even through his sleep-filled eyes, that the look on Saul's face was not one to be ignored and he listened intently as Saul described the phone call.
"And I'm not making this up, Mag, but the phone actually felt ice-cold in my hand! Of course, that could be explained away by my fear at the time but shit, I'm beyond rationalizing things!"
Mag and Saul stayed awake and talked for the remainder of the night. Saul shared his earlier ruminations with Mag, and Mag, in turn, told Saul about his experience at Borley Rectory. The phone call Saul had received seemed benign in comparison to Mag's encounter with the nun.
"I have told you this, my friend, because pure evil was with me that night in England. Evil is real and omnipresent and its source, contrary to what is popularly asserted, is not Homo sapiens. There is, I believe, an incorporeal domain that coexists with the mortal realm. Not infrequently, the denizens of this domain are capable of negatively influencing the lives and actions of human beings; less frequently, they are capable of penetrating whatever boundary exists between their sphere and that of mankind. Once they have breached the confines of their own plane, they are free to take possession of human bodies."
Saul didn't know which frightened him more--what Mag had to say, or how he said it. It had been years since he had heard Mag speak sans affectation and it unnerved him more than he could have imagined.
"Okay, assuming I buy your theory, why should these things, whatever they are, have to possess people? After all, sounds like they're pretty powerful."
"Yes," Mag responded, "they are extremely powerful, but in order to remain within the temporal realm they must comply with its carnal restrictions. In short, these entities, if you will, must become tangible and they are incapable of doing so without assistance."
"All right, so why don't they possess dogs or cats?" asked Saul.
"They can, they do, but only if absolutely necessary. You see, the animals of this earth are very special creatures; they are inherently good and their souls, and, yes, they do have souls, are extraordinarily resistant to diabolical control. Why should the demonic work so hard to oust the spirit of a cat or dog when it is much simpler to infest, oppress, and possess a human?"
"But what about that black cat with the searing yellow eyes that Charlie and I have both seen?"
"Saul, that cat is not real. I, too, have seen its eyes and..."
"You've seen the cat?"
"I saw its eyes shining forth from the bed of a truck I passed on the road today. For reasons unknown to me, a black cat that appears and vanishes is frequently a harbinger of the demonic."
"Christ, Mag, this is all too much for me! I can't deny what I've seen and heard and smelled and I don't for a minute deny Charlie's truthfulness, but 'the demonic?' I don't know that I'm ready to accept such a thing. Even if you're correct in your beliefs, why here, why now?"
"I don't know," Mag admitted. "But I've read that a major case of diabolical possession occurs once or twice every ten years. Perhaps your town is simply the setting for such an occurrence."
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
By the time the sun rose the next morning, Charlie had completed at least a
third of his chores and was chowing down on a breakfast of chorizo and eggs. He'd been hesitant to try the stove again, but it had worked just fine this time.
Cooter still wouldn't come in the house, but at least he was back on his feed and feeling spry enough to chase chickens around the yard.
There weren't any foul odors hanging around and no cats roamed the kitchen. All in all, nothing was awry at the Forsythe ranch...except, of course, for the nest of rattlesnakes that had taken up residence in the cellar.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Lukas had never made it to the hospital the evening before. The nausea he had experienced was unabated by the Alka-Seltzer and he had barely made it into a motel room before he began to vomit uncontrollably. The prolonged retching left Lukas so exhausted and dehydrated that he eventually fell asleep on the bathroom floor.
Lukas felt lousy when he awoke, but at least he was not nauseous. He knew that he needed to rehydrate himself so he made his way to the soft drink machine for a Pepsi. As he sat in his room slowly sipping his ice-cold drink, he suddenly found himself thinking about his sister.
Lukas hadn't seen Ruby in years, not since their mother had died. Ruby, fifty-six years of age now, lived in Dayton, Ohio. Not surprisingly, none of her three marriages had worked out but they had yielded her four loving and intelligent children who still doted on their mother. Lukas was grateful for his nieces and nephews, essentially because they were always there for Ruby when she was overcome by a bout of depression. Ruby had seen multiple therapists over the years and had been diagnosed as having a major depressive disorder. Although Ruby had confessed the incest to the therapists, she had never, for obvious reasons, disclosed what had ultimately happened to her father. The guilt Lukas carried relative to that event was not limited to the murder he had committed--he felt tremendous remorse secondary to making Ruby an accomplice to his transgression. No matter what Ruby told him to the contrary, he simply could not shake the belief that he was as much to blame for Ruby's emotional distress as was their father. He also felt ashamed for not having visited Ruby more often and decided that when he got back home he would talk to Lillie about making a trip to Ohio. Yes, that's exactly what he would do.
Lukas was feeling much better by the time he had showered, shaved, and called Lillie. He had elected not to tell her about how ill he had been the night before. Lillie would worry and the puking had probably been a result of all the junk food he had shoved in his face the day before; he simply told his wife that he had been too tired to go to the hospital but that he would soon be heading over that way.
"Paul, may I come in?" Lukas inquired as he peeked around the door.
"Lukas! Yes, please do. How kind of you to come all this way to see me."
Lukas was startled by Paul's appearance. He certainly hadn't expected the man to look well after what he had been through but there was something different about Paul Forsythe, something not attributable to his physical condition. Lukas couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Paul had changed.
The men shook hands and as they did so the nausea that had assaulted Lukas the evening before returned full blast.
"Lukas, are you ill? You're as pale as a ghost and your skin feels clammy."
Lukas sat down in the nearest chair and fought to contain the bile that was rising in his throat.
"I'll be okay. I'm just a little sick to my stomach. I think I ate too many sweets yesterday. I vomited most of the night and I guess I haven't fully recovered yet.
"But enough about me, what's going on with you?"
Despite his aversion to the clergy, Paul liked Lukas Duncan. He did not, however, feel comfortable telling him about seas of suet, vanishing blisters, and claw-marked legs, so he limited the update on his condition to the surgery.
"So what happened that night, Paul? Did you slip on the steps or what?"
"I honestly don't know what happened." Paul wasn't lying about that and he sure as hell wasn't going to mention anything about the pulpit. "Just one of those freak accidents, I guess. At any rate, I'll be out of here in a couple of days."
Lukas was feeling worse, not better, but he did his best to hide it from Paul. After all, the poor man had plenty problems of his own just now.
"I imagine that both you and Tamara will be glad to get home. By the way, where is Tamara?"
"Probably on her way here with Starr, Marybeth, and Patsy. Starr flew in from Dallas and Marybeth and Patsy cut their trip to Hawaii short in order to be here with me. I've sure got some great women in my life!
"Listen, are you feeling any better? Maybe I should call a nurse in to take a look at you."
"Actually, I don't feel very well. But, no, don't bother the nurses. If you'll forgive me, I think I'll just go back to the motel and get some sleep. I was going to drive back to Van Horn today, but I don't think I'm up to it. Perhaps I could come by again tomorrow?"
"Please do, but only if you're feeling better." Paul thought for a moment, then suggested, "On second thought, Patsy and Marybeth are heading back to Van Horn today. Why don't you hitch a ride with them?"
"Oh, I don't think..."
"Look," Paul interjected, "you'd actually be doing us a favor. The girls are going to take our car back and, if you'd be comfortable leaving your vehicle here, Starr could turn her rental in. Then when I'm discharged we could all drive back home in your car." Paul knew that Starr could easily afford the cost of her rental, but he also knew that Lukas would probably not take the bait unless he felt he was helping someone else out.
"Paul, I drove up in my old rattletrap of a truck. Trust me, it's not the most comfortable piece of machinery known to man!"
Paul laughed. "Well, it might make for an interesting ride home.
"Come on, whataya' say?"
Lukas really felt like crap and he wanted to get home to Lillie's caring arms.
"Well, if you're sure."
"Great, it's a done deal! Why don't you go on back to the motel and get some rest? I'll have Marybeth call you later. Where are you staying?"
Lukas gave Paul the name of his motel.
"Paul, I feel just awful about this. I came up here to check on you and here you are taking care of me."
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm very touched that you took time out of your life to come visit me. Just lay off the sweets for awhile, okay?"
"Oh yeah!!"
By the time Lukas had walked outside the hospital doors, he was feeling one-hundred percent better. And it was then that it hit him. Paul Forsythe exhibited the same evil countenance that he had seen in his father's face the night he killed him!
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
"Jenna, I've told you a million times. Write the buyer's name and address on the sales slip!"
"Do not holler at me, Wayne Monroe Diggs! If you would open your eyes and look, that sales slip says some minister, Pastor Lukas Duncan, from Van Horn bought your stupid pulpit! Jeez, I can't believe you plan to try and buy back that hunk of junk!"
"Christ, give it a rest, Jenna! I've told you and told you, that pulpit is worth big money and I am going to get it back, even if I have to visit every church in Van Horn."
"Yeah, Wayne, like Van horn is the capitol of religion. Just how many churches you reckon that piece of shit town has?"
"Oh, man..."
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Paul had already had his echocardiogram by the time his family arrived so he told them about both it and Lukas Duncan. Tamara wanted to call Lukas right away, but Paul asked her to wait because Lukas had said he was going to get some sleep. Starr was especially concerned about the Pastor.
"Dad, first you, now Pastor Duncan? Seems like more than mere coincidence to me."
"Oh, I don't think there's anything 'weird' about Lukas' illness. From what he said, he just stuffed himself with too much sugar."
“Well, maybe so," but Starr didn't sound convinced.
"Paul, how are you feeling?" Patsy changed the subject.
"Not too bad. My leg hurts like the d
evil, but other than that I'm doing pretty good. And, if this is what you're really asking, no, no more strange dreams or events.
"How about you, Starr? Any visions I should know about?"
"No, Dad, not a thing."
"Good."
Saul had called Charlie, told him a little bit about Mag, and asked if they could come out to the ranch. Charlie's exact words had been, "Hell yes! Bring yer gypsy friend on over here."
Saul and Mag stopped in at the physician’s office prior to going over to the Forsythe ranch.
"Wanda, allow me to introduce my dear very friend, Magyar Gehrke."
With his characteristic flair, Mag kissed the back of Wanda's hand and said, "Is pleasure to find such a delicate flower in this desert."
Well, that did it--Wanda was in love! She blushed, she giggled, she lowered the volume of her usual booming voice as she asked, "May I get you gentlemen some coffee?"
Saul wanted to puke! Not only because Wanda was behaving like a love-struck teenager, but also because Mag was such a ham. "Yeah, Wanda, we would love some coffee. Do you mean that you are actually going to get it for us?"
Wanda cut Saul a look that told him he would pay for his sarcasm later, then she went to get the coffee. When she returned, Saul noticed the fresh coat of lipstick Wanda had applied. He was tempted to make a crack about it, but he decided that he best not push his luck.
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