Unclean Spirit

by Julieana Toth

  "It's not the water, Doctor."

  Saul was yanked from his thoughts by a soft, sweet voice; a voice that emanated from the wraith that drifted directly in front of him.

  "Not the water..." Hillie Perkins repeated as her small form mingled with the molecules of the air until she was no longer visible.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

  The Seventh Night

  Despite Hillie Perkins' admonition, Saul had worked late into the evening testing samples of Van Horn's potable water only to discover that Hillie had been right; there was nothing in the water that could account for the strange goings-on at the Forsythe ranch. Additionally, while examining the water's chemical properties, Saul had been struck by the realization that he had not been surprised to see and hear from Hillie again. In point of fact, he had to acknowledge to himself that he was starting to view Hillie as a living, breathing person. Saul knew the child was dead; was he cracking-up, he wondered, or was he finally opening interior doors that had been kept closed and locked for most of his life?

  It was well after eleven by the time the Forsythe household had settled in for the night. Mag, thinking that his presence might be needed, was sleeping over. Patsy, exhausted and sore from the events of the preceding night, snored loudly while Marybeth watched over her. Charlie, tired, but too wired to sleep, spent time with Jose Cuervo. Penelope and Cooter cuddled in the barn.

  The plaintive howl of a coyote punctuated the otherwise quiet darkness. A thick blue, malodorous haze haunted the cellar floor and encased the pulpit that stood at its center.

  Paul's body hovered inches above his hospital bed. This had happened previously, but this time Paul was aware of his levitation. He yearned to scream out, but he could force no noise from his vocal cords. He struggled to move, but his muscles would not respond. He could do nothing when the blacker than black cloud descended from the ceiling and enshrouded him.

  Starr was neither asleep nor awake. She was in an altered state of consciousness, one in which sights and sounds merged to create a discordant diorama. A constant swirl of colors--black, violet, blue, yellow--served as backdrop for the tableaus that encased Starr and circled around her at an ever-increasing speed. A dog sat atop a podium and arched its neck at an impossible angle in order to howl at the man who floated above it; a newborn infant wailed as it hammered nails into a miniature coffin; a little girl shoved cake into herself until her abdomen burst open; a naked man farted non-stop while he glued the broken pieces of an enormous crystal cross back together; a young woman in a transparent nightgown balanced a gigantic seahorse on her tongue; the doors of a kitchen pantry flew open, revealing an endless stock of chocolate-chip cookies. Eventually, these scenes spun around Starr so quickly they became a dizzying blur.

  Then, without warning, Starr fell into a normal sleep cycle, one that carried with it no residue of what Starr had just experienced.

  Tamara muttered softly in her sleep. "Paul, you must fight it! If it wins, we all die!"

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

  By the time Tamara and Starr arrived at the hospital the next morning, Javier was in the process of removing the staples from Paul’s skull.

  "Good morning. Come on in. I just have a few more to go." Javier smiled at Tamara and Starr as they entered the room.

  "There, all out. The incision looks great. I'll see to it that your MRI is done as soon as possible, Mr. Forsythe."

  "And then I go home." Paul pronounced.

  "Mr. Forsythe, I've given a great deal of thought as to whether or not I should discharge you and I've decided to do so, if your MRI is okay. Your heart is fine, your neurological assessment is normal, and your leg is just about healed. Moreover, I know you are going to leave with or without my permission.

  "I've spoken to Dr. Feener several times and he sounds quite competent; I want your word that you will see him regularly once you return home. As soon as I get your MRI results and finish some necessary paperwork, I will send him a complete copy of your hospital records. Also, I want to see you in my office in two weeks."

  "You have my promise, Dr. Gomez, I will follow-up with Dr. Feener. And thank you. Not just for letting me go home but for everything you've done." Paul's gratitude was sincere.

  "You are very welcome, Mr. Forsythe.

  "Now, does anyone have any questions?"

  Tamara spoke up. "Will Paul need any medications?"

  "Yes," Javier replied," but I'll bring the prescriptions in and give you complete discharge instructions once I get the MRI results."

  "A little insurance that I'll stay put for awhile, Doc?" Paul smiled as he spoke.

  Javier smiled in return. "Maybe."

  Paul and Tamara looked knowingly at one another as Starr said, "I'll be right back," and followed Javier out of the room.

  Javier asked tentatively, "Will you be coming with your parents when they come back to see me?"

  "That all depends on how Dad is doing. I have a business in Dallas that my partner is running right now, but I can't expect for her to do that indefinitely," Starr answered.

  Javier's disappointment was evident. When he had first met Tamara, she had told him that her daughter would be flying in from Dallas but he had not recalled that until just now; he had simply assumed that Starr lived in Van Horn. "Oh, I had forgotten that you live in Dallas. Well..."

  "Dr...Javier, you don't know how much I wish circumstances were different, in many respects."

  While Starr and Javier talked, so did Paul and Tamara.

  "It's odd, Tam, but I feel better than I have in a very long time, and I don't mean just since the accident. I don't know why, but I feel physically and emotionally strong. Maybe all the 'paranormal' stuff that's been going on is over with." Paul was being truthful about how he felt, but he had no intention of disclosing last night's episode of levitation. For some reason, he felt as though it would be traitorous--to whom, he didn't know--to reveal that phenomenon to his wife and daughter.

  "God, Paul, I hope you're right!" But something told Tamara Paul was mistaken, that the 'paranormal stuff' was far from over.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

  It had been a long, but unexceptional, flight for Vincent Palmary and he had slept for the majority of the time. But he awoke now and began scratching his itching arms. He had no way of knowing that his plane was passing over Van Horn, Texas.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

  Mag, whom Vincent had apprized of his flight plans, was waiting at the gate when the plane disembarked. Truth be told, he had been relieved to get out of Van Horn for awhile.

  "Narancsíz!" Mag exclaimed as he greeted Vincent. "What that on arms?"

  "Hives.

  "Let's get going. There's no time to waste!"

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

  Lukas had avoided going over to the Forsythe place since his return from El Paso. He told himself he was simply too busy to get over there, but he knew better. What he knew was that he was afraid. He had detected degeneracy in Paul Forsythe that had terrified him.

  "Lukas, where are you?" Lillie called out as she placed the groceries on the kitchen table. "I ran into Charlie Toobin at the store and you aren't going to believe what he told me!"

  "And they've called in an exorcist?" Lukas was shocked by what Lillie had told him had been going on at the ranch.

  "Well, not an exorcist exactly, but something pretty damn close.

  "Maybe you better tell me again what happened to you in El Paso." Lillie wasn't so sure anymore that a febrile state had been responsible for her husband's interpretation of the things he had experienced during his stay in El Paso.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

  The day had been oppressively humid, a sure sign that a storm was moving in. Luckily, Mag and Vincent made it back to Van Horn before the thunder, lightening, and rain started. They went straight to Saul's office.

  "Lovely Miss Wanda! So good see you again. Are more beautiful than remember." As usual, Mag was ladling it on.

  "Oh, Mr. Gehrke!" Wan
da demured.

  "Would like introduce friend, Vincent Palmary."

  Vincent, picking up on Mag's lead, kissed the back of Wanda's hand.

  "I am very pleased to meet you."

  Wanda was beside herself with joy. Flattery was everything to a less than svelte middle-aged woman and having her hand kissed twice in the past few days was almost more than Wanda could bear.

  "'scuse me. I'll just let Doc Feener know you're here. Please, have a seat," Wanda said as she headed off toward Saul's office.

  Saul was surprised by the knock on his door. Wanda never knocked. "Come in." "Doctor Feener, Mr. Gehrke is here with a man by the name of Vincent Palmary. I asked them to wait in the reception area."

  Well, Mag's presence certainly explained Wanda's rarely used manners!

  "Fine, Wanda, please show them in."

  As Wanda turned to leave, Saul added, "You know, Wanda, Mag is single."

  That did it!

  "YOU THINK YOU KNOW SO DAMN MUCH!" Wanda was not at all pleased that her employer was aware of her crush on the Hungarian. She slammed the door on her way out.

  "That's more like it," Saul said under his breath.

  The wind howled and the rain poured outside The Smokehouse where Saul, Mag, and Vincent had stopped for a late lunch.

  "Mr. Palmary," Saul began, "despite the little bit of reading I've done and, of course, my association with Mag, I must plead ignorance when it comes to the supernatural realm. Could you give me a crash course in exactly what it is you do?"

  "Simply put, Dr. Feener..."

  "Saul, please," the physician interrupted.

  "Thank you, Saul. And please, use my first name as well," Vincent smiled as he spoke and then continued, sans the smile. "I have been 'blessed' with something referred to as discernment. For some reason, God only knows why, I have the ability to recognize the presence of evil spirits, demons, if you will. You've noticed the hives on my arms? Well, they erupted during my flight into El Paso. The only time I get hives is when I'm in close proximity to diabolic entities."

  Saul felt a shiver pass through him.

  Vincent went on. "In addition, I practice what is known as deliverance which, in a nutshell, is essentially a synonym for exorcism."

  "You're a priest?" Saul inquired.

  "No, no, I'm not. Retired cop. While it's true that exorcisms are generally performed, if they're performed at all, by the clergy, any Christian can pray for deliverance. Clearly, the person who prays for deliverance must know what he or she is doing. I've heard horror stories about well-intentioned, but untrained, individuals who have caused harm to both themselves and the demonized individual secondary to their uninformed approach to the process."

  "I don't mean to sound flip," Saul said, "but is there a special program of study or a 'How-To' book for people who want to pray for deliverance?"

  Mag just rolled his eyes; Vincent answered Saul's question.

  "I'm not aware of any formal education for practitioners of deliverance, although there do exist a number of books on the subject. The Roman Catholic Church is pretty tight-lipped about anything having to do with exorcism. I do know that the Rituale Romanum, the quintessential exorcism ritual, still exists so I assume that it's also still utilized by the Catholic priesthood."

  "But that's not what you use?" Saul queried.

  "Not in its pure form, no. There are a multitude of exorcism rituals, most of which are bastardized models of the Roman Rituale. As a matter of fact, baptism is actually a exorcism ritual."

  "Not know that," Mag admitted.

  Vincent continued. "You're not alone, Magyar. Baptism certainly isn't publicized as a demon-buster. But think about it, if not for baptism there might be many more possessed souls in the world!

  "But, back to your original question, Saul. I cast out demons through the power of prayer."

  "Prayer?" Saul wasn't sure he understood.

  "Not the type of prayer you are probably familiar with. I don't pray to God during a deliverance and I don't ask Him--or Her--for anything. I speak directly to the Demonic and command It to depart. Of course, I do so in the name of Jesus Christ because without God's authority to back me up I have no power over the Demonic."

  Mag saw the skeptical look on Saul's face. "Vincent, tell Saul about Wintermyer case."

  "Up until about five years ago, I had only participated in simple deliverances that involved demonic infestations or oppressions rather than true possessions."

  "Excuse me for interrupting," Saul said. "Infestation and oppression are the precursors of possession, right?"

  "That's correct," Vincent responded. "The object of infestation is to scare the hell out of the person who has been targeted by the diabolical entity. Unrelenting terrorization typically weakens the Demonic's victim to the point that he or she can no longer fully exercise free will; hence, oppression. Then, once the Demonic is able to control both the individual's body and will, It has taken possession of the person."

  "Sounds like psychological warfare," Saul posited.

  "Precisely," Vincent agreed. "But true possession goes far beyond an attack on the mind."

  "Is now spiritual warfare," Mag offered.

  "Well put, Magyar. You see, Saul, a person who is possessed no longer has his or her God-given spirit; it has been replaced with the spirit of the Demonic."

  "Wait a minute!" Saul was confused. "If an inhuman spirit moves into a person's body, where does the human spirit go?"

  Mag and Vincent exchanged a meaningful glance before Mag finally responded. "Not know. Never thought about it."

  "Never thought about it?!" Saul was incredulous.

  "Neither have I," Vincent admitted, "and that's very embarrassing!"

  "I didn't mean to..." Saul started.

  "Please, don't apologize. You asked a very perceptive question that deserves consideration. Although I've never actually seen it happen, I've read that the human spirit moves out of the person's body from his or her right side while the inhuman spirit enters from the left. I have never, however, read anything about the human spirit's disposition. Damn, I guess I've always assumed that the human spirit stayed close to its physical counterpart because it had nowhere else to go. That must be the case because a successful deliverance expels the inhuman spirit and allows the original spirit to return."

  "What do you suppose happens to the human spirit if the deliverance is unsuccessful?" Saul asked.

  "That one easy," Mag answered. "Death is result of exorcism that not work, so human spirit go wherever all spirits go when body die."

  "Death is the result of all failed exorcisms?" Saul didn't like the sound of that.

  "Well, yes. Think about it: If a person is truly, totally possessed, he or she cannot survive the constant physical abuse the inhuman spirit inflicts upon the shell--the body--in which it has taken up residence."

  "But why would the spirit want to destroy its own host?"

  "Because it can, Saul. Understand, the Demonic doesn't die when its human reservoir does; it simply moves along to wreak havoc elsewhere. The Demonic exists to torture, to prove that It is powerful and capable of destroying what God has created. The Demonic is omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient."

  "Do you realize how sacrilegious that sounds, Vincent?"

  "That's just it, Saul. The Demonic is a sacrilege. It is the antithesis of God."

  "Doc Feener? You okay?" The waitress inquired as she placed the lunch orders on the table. "You look a little green around the gills."

  "What?"

  "I asked if you were feeling bad."

  "Sorry, I was lost in thought. No, Stella, I'm fine. Thanks for asking.

  "Food looks good." Actually, the food didn't look good to Saul and he couldn't help but wonder if anything would look good to him ever again.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

  "You were going to tell me about the Wintermyer case," Saul reminded Vincent as the three men drove to Saul's house.

  "Are you sure you want to hear
about it?" Vincent asked.

  "Might as well."

  "I was called upon to pray for a young woman, Lara Wintermyer--not her real name, by the way; I believe strongly in the confidential nature of what I do--who was clearly possessed. When I first met Lara, she was literally crouching in a corner of her apartment, much like a frightened, but very dangerous, animal. Her skin was pulled so taut against her bones that it was almost translucent; there was little hair on her head and her scalp was covered with large patches of dried blood; the carpet beneath her was saturated with her own excrement. As bad as all of that was, it was Lara's eyes that unnerved me most. Her eyes were huge and wide-open and her irises, pupils, and sclerae appeared perfectly normal but she had no eyelids; it wasn't possible for her to close her eyes!"

  That did it for Saul. He had to pull the car onto the road's shoulder in order to hear the rest of the story.

  Vincent continued. "I knew I was in over my head, but I couldn't just desert Lara so I began to pray for her deliverance. From the moment I began, the entity inside Lara assailed me with blasphemes, profanities, threats, and ridicule. And although Lara never left the corner of the room where I had first seen her, her body slowly inched its way up the wall until Lara's head touched the ceiling." Vincent stopped speaking.

  "Vincent! Don't just leave me hanging here!" Saul wanted to hear the rest of the story.

  "Sorry, I was just flashing on how truly terrified I had been while I was in that room with Lara.

  "After a total of eighteen hours of prayer, the demon was gone. Lara fell to the floor, looked at me and mouthed, 'Thank you,' and fell into a deep sleep."