"But how did you know that the demon was really gone?" Saul asked.
"I told you, I have the gift of discernment; I can tell when spirits are present. Also, the hives that had covered my body from the moment I entered the apartment disappeared without a trace."
"And Lara? What became of her?"
Mag knew that it would be very difficult for Vincent to answer Saul's question so he responded, without his usual affectation. "Lara committed suicide ten days later."
"What?!"
Mag continued. "Lara did leave a suicide note. Apparently, she had sufficient memory of her possession to know that she could never go through such torment again."
"So, the demon won after all." Saul concluded.
"Yes," Vincent and Mag concurred in unison.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
"I don't care what you say, Jenna! I'm going to Van Horn and I'm going to get that pulpit back."
"Wayne, I told you what Mom said. There's something wrong about that pulpit. Mom said..."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Its 'cursed,' it can only bring us 'pain and suffering.' Jeez, Jenna, get real!"
CHAPTER EIGHTY
"Okay, Mr. Forsythe, your MRI looks satisfactory. I would, however, like to make one final plea for you to remain hospitalized for a few more days." Javier pretty much knew what his patient's response would be.
"Dr. Gomez, you've given Tamara, Starr, and me very explicit instructions about my care and I assure you that we will follow your directions to the letter. Also, I promise to see Dr. Feener regularly and I will keep my appointment with you in two weeks.
"Again, Dr. Gomez, thank you for everything. I believe I speak for all of us when I say that you are one helluva a physician!"
Paul and Javier shook hands and for a fleeting moment during that physical connection Javier felt as though he had just grasped the hand of a corpse.
Later, outside of Paul's room, Starr spoke with Javier.
"What was that about?"
"What?"
"I saw the look on your face when you shook Dad's hand. You looked, I don't know, different in some way."
Javier wasn't about to tell Starr what he had felt. He was pretty sure that the Forsythe family's belief in the supernatural had begun to color his interpretation of things.
"I'm just concerned, Starr. I don't feel right about discharging your father."
Starr wasn't so sure she bought Javier's explanation, but she elected not to push the issue.
"Okay, whatever you say. But rest assured that Mom and I will take very good care of your patient."
"I know that, Starr.
"Listen, I was wondering if maybe I could visit you in Van Horn sometime soon?"
Starr knew what Javier meant but she needed to hear him actually say it.
"You mean to check up on Dad?"
"I think you know what I mean, Starr. I want to spend some time with you." Javier caught Starr's pointed glance at his left ring-finger.
"Divorced. And you?"
Starr smiled. "Me,too. Does that mean we're a couple of losers?"
"Not in my estimation.
"So, whata' think?"
"I think," Starr replied, "that I would love for you to visit me in Van Horn."
Paul's discharge from the hospital didn't take long and after checking out of the motel, Starr, Tamara, and Paul were on their way home. It was dusk by the time they reached the outskirts of Van Horn and, although Starr and Tamara were unware of it, Paul's pupils had temporarily regained their reptilian semblance as Paul gazed toward the town.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
The Eighth Night
While Cooter explored the desert for rabbits, and any other poor creature he could find to harass, Penelope sat on the porch steps patiently awaiting her mistress' return. When the truck that carried Starr, Tamara, and Paul finally pulled up to the house, Pen leapt off the steps and ran to greet Starr.
"Hey, precious cat!" Starr exclaimed as she disembarked the truck and scooped Penelope up in her arms.
"Missed your Mom, didn't you girl?" Tamara rhetorically asked the cat as she walked over to scratch her head. Penelope purred in contentment.
"Well, cat-face, long-time-no-see." Paul reached out to gently tug on Pen's tail as he always did. But,in an extremely atypical response, Penelope laid her ears back flat against her head, barred her teeth, and hissed ominously at Paul.
"Penelope! What the hell is wrong with you?" Starr was shocked by the cat's behavior.
Paul seemed nonplussed and looked knowingly at Penelope as he said, "It's all right, Starr. She's just reacting to the change in me."
"Change?" Tamara inquired.
"Well, sure. She's a smart and intuitive feline, she senses that I'm not quite the same person she knew. I don't expect that she realizes I had surgery, but she does discern that I've been through some physical and emotional changes since we last spent time together.
" She'll come around, eventually."
Starr wasn't convinced that her father's explanation for Pen's behavior was correct, but she chose to keep her doubts to herself. She had no desire to spoil her parents' happy homecoming so, when Patsy, Marybeth, and Charlie came out to welcome Paul and Tamara home, Starr whispered into Penelope's ear, "He has changed, hasn't he?"
Later, after supper, Starr bought up the topic that everyone had been avoiding all evening. "We know about the snakes, the bad smells, and your nose, Charlie," Charlie rubbed the top of his now-healed proboscis. "The question is: What else has been going on around here that we don't know about?"
Charlie, Marybeth, and Patsy looked at one another for a minute or so before Charlie spoke up. "Not much. Not lessin' ya count ghosts killin' little babies, demon cats appearin' and disappearin', and an exorcist payin' a visit."
"What?!" Tamara and Starr exclaimed in unison.
"Well, it's like this..." and Marybeth caught Paul, Tamara, and Starr up on what had been happening in Van Horn.
"So, when is this 'exorcist' going to pay us a visit?" Paul inquired.
"That's up to you, Paul," Patsy answered. "Would tomorrow be too soon?"
"Sure. Why not? Bring him on," Paul said with a rather enigmatic smile on his face that didn't escape Starr's attention.
"Let me just ask," Saul said as he placed his hand over the phone's mouthpiece. "It's Patsy Carlton over at the Forsythe place. She wants to know if the three of us can go to the ranch tomorrow."
Vincent and Mag both shook their heads in the affirmative.
"Okay, Patsy. We'll be there around ten in the morning."
After ringing off, Saul looked at Mag and Vincent as he said, "I hope you guys are ready for this because I'm not real sure I am!"
A soft rain continued throughout the night and didn't awaken Lukas, who dreamed about his father clawing his way out of his unmarked grave or Saul, who dreamed about Hillie Perkins eating pudding laced with strychnine or Charlie, who dreamed about owning his own liquor company or Patsy, Marybeth, and Mag, who didn't dream at all that night. The rain didn't disturb Vincent, who prayed well into the night in preparation for the next day's visit to the Forsythe ranch or Tamara, who was simply too exhausted to be bothered by anything or Cooter and Penelope, whose full bellies had shut down their brains for the night.
Starr sat in the darkened living room watching the rain gently tumble down from the sky. Starr loved the rain, it relaxed her in a way nothing else could. Starr felt her eyelids growing heavy and, just as she was about to nod off, she was roused by the sound of footsteps shuffling across the floor. Starr caught a glimpse of her father as he entered the kitchen. Guess he can't sleep either, Starr thought to herself. Starr walked to the kitchen, expecting to join her dad for a midnight snack.
"So, any good leftovers?" Starr asked as she swung open the kitchen door. But the kitchen was empty.
"Dad? Where'd you go?" Although there was no answer, Starr immediately noticed that the basement door was ajar.
"Oh, shit!" Although not entir
ely surprised that her father had decided to pay a visit to the basement, the scene of the crime so to speak, Starr was troubled by the fact that he had chosen to do so in the middle of the night. She could see that the basement light hadn't been turned on and all Starr could think was that her dad had fallen down those goddamn steps again.
"Dad? Are you down there?" Starr called into the cellar as she flicked on the bulb that hung over the stairs.
"I'm here, Starr," Paul responded. "I'm fine. Just taking a look around. Come on down."
Starr was so relieved to hear her father's voice that she didn't pick up on the menacing undertone of his words. If she had, she might have not been so quick to hurry down the basement steps.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
"I don't think we can wait until tomorrow to go to the Forsythe ranch," Vincent announced to Mag, whom he had awakened from a peaceful sleep.
"What you..." but Mag didn't finish his thought; the eruptions on Vincent's face told him everything he needed to know.
Penelope awoke with every white cat hair standing straight up. She raced to the house but since she couldn't get in, she wildly paced the front porch.
"Dad, what in the world are you doing? I can't even believe you came down here!"
"Starr, look at the beauty of this lectern," Paul said as he stroked the dark wood. "It's rare these days to see craftsmanship like this. A great deal of love and patience went into the construction of this piece and I have a duty to restore it to it's original condition."
"That's fine, Dad, but it's the middle of the night. If you don't get some rest, you won't be able to restore anything, including your own physical health. Now, let's go back upstairs, the pulpit isn't going anywhere."
As Starr turned toward the basement steps, though, she heard a sharp scraping sound. When she looked back toward her father and the pulpit, she saw the rostrum moving slowly, but inexorably, in her direction.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
The combination of the doorbell and the insistent banging awoke everyone in the house. Charlie responded to the beckoning sounds first and as he opened the front door, Penelope nearly knocked him down in her rush to get inside. She was an albino blur as she sped toward the kitchen.
"What the fuck is goin' on?" was Charlie's greeting to Saul, Mag, and Vincent.
"We don't actually know, Charlie, but Vincent," Saul explained as he placed his hand on Vincent's shoulder, "felt that we best come over right away."
"I apologize for being so abrupt and intrusive," Vincent said as Tamara, Marybeth, and Patsy joined Charlie at the front door,"but I fear that something is very seriously wrong here, something that must be dealt with immediately."
"You the exorcist fella?" Charlie inquired, wanting also to ask Vincent what was wrong with his face but having the courtesy not to.
"You can refer to me as an exorcist if you like. Are you Paul Forsythe?"
"Me? Hell, no! He's..." But as Charlie looked around he realized that Paul was not present.
"Paul's not here, and neither is Starr!" Tamara sounded as worried as she was. "Paul wasn't in bed when I woke up; I figured he was in the bathroom. Paul! Starr!" Tamara called out.
"Tam, don't panic. I'll check upstairs," Marybeth said while already in transit.
"Charlie, why don't you check the kitchen?" Patsy suggested.
"Yeah, okay."
Saul, Mag, and Vincent had already entered the house by the time Marybeth came back downstairs and announced that she had found neither Starr nor Paul. Charlie exited the kitchen shaking his head and repeating, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
Tamara reached the kitchen first. "Oh, my God!" The stench was unlike anything Tamara had ever smelled before.
"Jesus God!" Patsy could barely contain the bile that threatened to explode from her mouth once she saw the kitchen and smelled its contents.
"What? What is it?" Marybeth demanded to know once she had reached Tamara and Patsy.
"Oh, sweet Mother of God!" Marybeth, now joined by Saul and Mag, saw and smelled what Tamara and Patsy had seen and smelled: The kitchen walls were oozing a thick mustard-colored substance that smelled of rotting flesh. The tip of every single piece of kitchen cutlery was embedded in the ceiling. The kitchen table spun round and round on one leg. The oven door opened then slammed shut repeatedly. The kitchen windows heaved inward and outward, as though they were breathing. Penelope sat whining at the closed basement door--part from fear, part from frustration, part from pain. Her front paws were bloody from trying to claw her way under the door.
"There is no turning back now," Vincent declared as he gazed into the chaos that was the Forsythe kitchen.
CHAPTER
EIGHTY -FIVE
"Lukas, what's wrong? What are you doing?" Lillie had been awakened by the noise Lukas was making in their bedroom.
"I have to get dressed."
"But why? What's happening?"
"I have to go to the Forsythe ranch."
Lillie glanced at the bedside clock. "Lukas, it's two in the morning! What in the world is wrong with you? Nobody called, I would have heard the phone ring."
"No, there was no phone call. I just have to go. I don't know why." Lukas wasn't lying to his wife, he didn’t know why he felt compelled to get to the Forsythe place as soon as possible.
"Okay, I don't have a clue about what's going on here but if you must go I'll go with you."
"No, I have to go alone and you have to stay here with the boys."
"We'll take the boys with us."
"NO!"
Lillie couldn't remember a time in their entire marriage when Lukas had used such a commanding, and demanding, tone of voice with her. It shocked and silenced her.
"Lillie," began a penitent Lukas,"I love you and our sons more than life itself. I honestly don't understand why I need to go to the Forsythe's; I do know that something awaits me there, something that would harm you and the boys."
"Lukas, I have never been more frightened in my life than I am right now; not for myself and not even for the boys, but for you." Although she tried, Lillie could not prevent the tears from spilling down her face. "I've trusted you for the past fifteen years and I don't intend to stop now. You do what you need to do, Lukas Duncan, and then you get your butt back here to your family!" For all of her bravado, Lillie was collapsing inside.
"I'll do my best, my love."
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
"Starr! Paul! Are you down there?" Tamara was shouting at the cellar door because, no matter how hard she tried, she could not get it open, and neither could anyone else.
"They are down there, ma'am," Vincent calmly disclosed.
"How do you know that? You've never even met them."
"Trust that I know, and trust me when I tell you that I must go down there with them and you must not."
"Starr is my daughter, Paul is my husband. My place is with them."
"Mrs. Forsythe, this is very serious business and, as hard as it might be for you to hear, the love you feel for your daughter and husband would be a weapon in the hands of the Demonic. And make no mistake, that is exactly what we are dealing with here--an unclean spirit that is more malevolent than can even be imagined. What you see here in this kitchen is mere child's play to the Demonic."
"But I don't understand why this is happening to us!" Tamara's utter distress was evident in her voice. "I know what I see and smell and feel, but I can't comprehend any of it! What have we done to deserve this horror?"
Vincent's heart went out to the woman. "We may never know what brought the Demonic into your lives and, for now at least, the 'why' doesn't even matter. The paramount concern at this moment is, of course, the welfare of your husband and daughter.
"Magyar," Vincent turned his attention away from Tamara, "I will need your help." And the two men stepped outside into the wet night in order that they might speak privately.
Unable to endure the environs of the kitchen, Patsy, Marybeth, and Char
lie had retreated to the living room. They had not even noticed when Lukas had entered the front door that had previously been left wide open. When Lukas spoke, Patsy peed her pants, Marybeth turned deathly pale, and Charlie exclaimed, "Gawdamn sumabitch!"
"Okay, it's okay! It's me, Lukas Duncan! I'm sorry, but the door was open. I didn't mean to scare you."
"Scare us? You nigh-on killed us! No offense, Preachur, but what the sam hill are you doin' here?"
"I'm not sure, Charlie. I just knew that I had to come.
"What's going on here tonight?"
"Well, sir, why don't ya go have yerself a look in the kitchen?"
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
After having herded everyone except Vincent and Penelope out of the kitchen and into the living room, a totally solemn Magyar filled the group in on what was going to transpire.
"Vincent is removing the cellar door from its hinges. Once that's done, he and I will go down into the basement. Vincent will assess the situation and attempt deliverance."
"Assess, attempt, deliverance? What in the hell are you talking about?" Tamara had not calmed down the least little bit.
"Tamara, please," implored Saul, "hear him out."
"Mrs. Forsythe, this has to be extremely difficult for you, but we haven't time for in-depth explanations. Suffice it to say, there is an evil entity in the cellar, one that has probably taken possession of your husband and, quite possibly, harmed your daughter. Vincent Palmary is going to do his level best to rid your husband of the offending spirit."
So, there it was, thought Tamara, finally out in the open. Her husband was possessed by a demon!
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