The Devil's Photographer

by Amy Cross

  "Where's..." I pause for a moment as I try to remember his name. "Mark," I say after a moment. "Where's Mark?"

  "You've had people sitting with you," he replies. "Mark Harris was here, and a woman named Bella, and a few other friends. You're quite a popular person, Kate. We barely had room for all the flowers." He smiles, and I can't help thinking that he's trying to cheer me up. "I should add that you've been very lucky," he continues. "It was a serious accident and we're still not entirely sure how you escape with relatively few injuries."

  "Was anyone else hurt?" I ask.

  "We'll talk about that later -"

  "Tell me," I continue, feeling a sense of panic start to push through my chest. "Was anyone else hurt?"

  "The bus had a brake failure," he replies. "There were a number of people on the crossing at the time."

  "Did anyone die?" I ask.

  "Kate -"

  "Did anyone die?" I ask again, more firmly this time.

  "Four people," he says after a moment. "One other person was injured."

  "Four?" I stare at him. "I thought I was hit first."

  "You were."

  "Then how the hell did I survive when four other people died?"

  "That's something we're still trying to work out," he replies. "Some police officers and accident investigators are going to want to talk to you, Kate. There's very little surveillance footage of what happened, and eyewitness accounts are somewhat contradictory. Don't get too stressed, though. There's plenty of time for you to recover first."

  As I try to sit up, I find that I'm being held down by various pipes and tubes. I know I shouldn't panic, but I can't help it; I'm starting to remember the final moment before the bus hit me, and although I can clearly see the bus driver's horrified face in my mind's eye, I can also see another face. There was a man sitting near the front of the bus, and he was also staring at me.

  It was the man from my photos. After all these years, he came back.

  Today

  "I had a really great evening with you," Dagwood says as he walks me back to my apartment. "It's been a long time since I spoke so openly to an outsider. Honesty feels pretty good."

  "So now can I come and observe one of your services?" I ask, finally getting to the question that I've been circling since we left the restaurant. I know it's kind of bold, but I hate the idea of just walking away.

  "It's complicated," he replies.

  "So I can't come?"

  "It's complicated," he says again.

  "But what if you tell the others that I want to join?" I ask. "I mean, you have a leader, don't you?"

  "There's someone in charge, yes," he replies.

  "So can people only attend if they were born into it?"

  "It's more complicated than that," he says.

  "You're going to have to come up with a better excuse," I reply. "I know where the church is, and now I know roughly what you're doing there. I already managed to get in once, and I think you owe it to me to let me see one of these ceremonies?"

  "You think so, huh?"

  "Absolutely."

  "So we cure your cancer," he continues with a faint smile, "and yet you still feel that you're the one who's owed a favor?"

  "Maybe I'm a little needy," I reply as we reach the door to my building and I turn to him. "You knew I was going to ask," I continue. "I mean, what else did you think was going to happen tonight after you told me all about it? You can't give someone all the juicy details of some big mystery and then suddenly slam the shutters down. Besides, this Amin Bell guy seems to have been very interested in me, so obviously -"

  "Forget about Amin Bell," he says suddenly, interrupting me.

  "But -"

  "Forget about him," he says firmly. "He's been driven out of your body and I doubt he'll be back. You can get on with your life." He pauses; not for the first time tonight, I feel as if there's something else he wants to tell me, but he can't get the words out. "Kate," he says eventually, "I guess I should come clean. I didn't invite you to dinner just so I could tell you about the church. Frankly, I'd have preferred not to have done that at all, but I figured it was a necessary evil that I'd have to endure in order to..."

  I wait for a moment. "In order to what?" I ask eventually.

  He opens his mouth, as if he's going to say something, but then finally he steps forward and kisses me. I'm so taken aback, I let the kiss continue for a few seconds as I think back to the dream I had. I know I shouldn't be doing any of this, but it takes a moment to summon the nerve to end it; I try to say "No," before pulling away from the kiss.

  "Was that okay?" he asks.

  "I'm..." I try to work out what to say, but memories of my dream are flooding into my mind, almost as if it's something that really happened. "I wasn't expecting it," I add, playing for time while I wait to work out what to do next. It's been so long since a guy made a move on me, and I swear I didn't give Dagwood any signals tonight. The kiss just came out of nowhere.

  "I've been wanting to do it all evening," he continues, leaning closer and kissing me again. I let him, but something feels wrong about the whole situation, and I'm just about to push him away when he grabs my waist and pulls me against his body. His hands move up to my chest for a moment, before slipping down to the top of my pants and then under the fabric. I wait for a moment, feeling his fingers slipping into my underwear, before finally I pull back and grab his wrist, forcing his hand out.

  I wait for him to say something.

  "Did I misunderstand?" he asks eventually.

  "I think you should go home," I tell him, fumbling in my pockets in an attempt to find my key.

  "I was hoping I could come inside," he replies.

  "No," I say, glancing at him briefly before turning to unlock the door. "I don't think that'd be a very good idea."

  "Why not?"

  "I just don't want to do anything like that right now."

  "Are you scared?" he asks.

  I manage to get the door open, before stepping inside and turning to him. The truth is, the thought of sleeping with Dagwood does turn me on, but at the same time it feels wrong. I've always prided myself on being able to control myself, and there's no way I'm going to let this guy into my bed right now. I'd rather be alone.

  "Have you been with a man since you had the operation?" he continues.

  "Yes," I tell him. "Thanks, I have."

  "Sorry," he replies. "That was probably pretty crass of me."

  "A little." I wait for him to get the message and leave, but he's still loitering on the step, almost as if he expects me to change my mind and decide to invite him up. "Thank you for dinner," I tell him after a moment. "I hope I didn't encourage any false expectations. I'd be happy to give you something to cover my share -"

  "No," he replies, taking a step back. "Absolutely not, Kate. Dinner was a pleasure. I'm sorry I made a move on you, but obviously we were operating on very different wavelengths."

  "Obviously," I say nervously, with my hand on the side of the door, ready to push it shut. "It's late," I add, "and I should get to bed. We'll speak soon, okay?"

  He nods, but it's clear that I've disappointed him.

  Once I've shut the door, I turn and head up the stairs. I keep imagining him still out there, but I guess it's not my job to cheer him up. As I get to the door to my apartment, I start racking my brain, trying to work out if I did or said anything tonight that might have given him a false impression. It's not as if I wore anything particularly special for the night, and I sure as hell don't have the kind of figure to be seductive. I thought we were meeting to talk about everything that's happened recently, but obviously Dagwood just saw that as a pretext for a date. I should probably be flattered, but I just feel disappointed.

  Entering my apartment, I quickly realize that I'm way too wired to go to sleep. I dump my bag in the hallway before heading through to the kitchen, where I start making a pot of coffee. For some reason, my hands are trembling, and after a moment I glance through to the
dark bedroom. There's still a part of me that think I made a mistake when I turned Dagwood away, but I barely know the guy and there's something about his story that doesn't add up. The basic problem is that I don't understand why he bothered to meet me tonight and tell me all about the church if he knew he couldn't let me see a service first-hand. Then again, I guess maybe I'm looking for broader patterns when the truth is more sordid: is it possibly that he just wanted to get me into bed, and that's what tonight was all about?

  Once I've made the coffee, I head through to my bedroom and stand at the window, looking out at the city. It's dark in here and I like the fact that I can barely see my own reflection. Sometimes, I feel it would be nice to just disappear.

  And then I spot it.

  Something moving, reflected in the window.

  Turning, I find that there's a hooded figure standing by the bed, barely visible in the darkened room.

  I stand completely still for a moment, my mind racing as I try to work out what the hell's going on. Just as I'm about to say something, however, I realize there's movement over by the closet; glancing across the room, I realize that there are two more of these hooded figures. Seconds later, one steps into view from the hallway.

  I try to run, but one of the figures grabs me and pushes me down onto the bed, quickly putting a hand over my mouth to ensure that I don't scream. Although I struggle to get free, I'm quickly overpowered, and I feel a sharp pain in my neck, as if I'm being injected with something. As I try to push the figures away, my whole body starts to feel unbearably heavy, and finally I slump down against the sheets.

  Part Seven

  The Fall

  Today

  "Kate," he says, nudging my arm. "You have to wake up now. Kate, it's time."

  I open my eyes, and for a moment I have no idea where I am. There's cold, hard stone under my body, but when I try to sit up I find that my wrist are bound together by thick chains. I turn to look across the dark room, and after a moment my eyes start to adjust to the low light and I realize that there's a figure standing nearby. When I look up at him, I can't see his face but I still know exactly who it is. I just don't understand what's happening.

  "If it's any consolation," Dagwood continues, his voice sounding much calmer than before, "we've been preparing for this moment for many years. It should go smoothly, and any pain..." He pauses. "Well, I know this isn't exactly going to sound encouraging, but you're used to pain, Kate. You've built up a certain level of tolerance over the years, and that's good. It's useful. Hopefully it means..."

  His voice trails off.

  Despite the chains, I manage to sit up. I glance over at the door and see that the corridor outside has stone walls. If I didn't know better, I'd say I'm in the church.

  "I should explain what's going to happen," Dagwood continues. "First, we're -"

  "Did you kidnap me?" I ask, still staring at the door as I try to work out if I could use the chains to somehow incapacitate him. In my mind's eye, I imagine wrapping the metal around his neck and pulling tight, knocking him out so that I have enough time to get away. I'm sure there are other people here, but at least I'd have a chance.

  "You can use the word kidnap if you want," he replies. "I prefer to think of it as bringing you home. You were always destined to be in this place at this time, Kate, and if we hadn't brought you, some other force would have done the job. Your whole life has been leading to this moment."

  I turn to him. Although I still can't see his face in the darkness, I can tell that he's not quite his usual self.

  "My whole life has been... cancer," I tell him. "Cancer and a traffic accident."

  "And you think that's a coincidence?"

  I feel a shiver pass through my body.

  "It was always anticipated that there would be physiological complications," he continues. "Your parents were warned before the initiation ceremony, but they accepted the risks and -"

  "This hasn't got anything to do with my parents," I say firmly, interrupting him.

  "I think you should probably face the truth," he replies. "It might help. Your parents offered you for this purpose. They understood the risks, and they were fully aware that there would be certain difficulties. Their concerns were somewhat eased by the promise that the church would stand by you throughout your adolescence and offer any practical and financial support that was necessary. It was through a charitable trust, Dimone Halifax Industries, that we were able to pay for your medical care and, later, your education."

  I want to tell him that he's wrong, but deep down I can sense that he's telling the truth. I was never able to find out about Dimone Halifax Industries, but I guess they just covered their tracks too well.

  "Your parents are here tonight," Dagwood continues. "Do you want to -"

  "Why are they here?" I snap at him.

  "Because they're members of the congregation," he replies, "and because they're proud of you."

  "Proud of me?"

  "They knew there were risks, and that you might not make it this far. Your body was certainly tested to its limits. Even Dr. Mammone was worried. That's why we had to bring you in for some rather extreme treatment programs toward the end. You were falling apart, Kate, and we couldn't let you fail, not when we were so close."

  "So close to what?" I ask.

  "Close your eyes," he says.

  "Fat chance."

  "Close them. Just for a moment. I promise, you'll start to understand."

  Figuring that I might as well play along, I close my eyes.

  "Now put two fingers on the side of your neck," he continues. "Feel your pulse."

  Doing as I'm told, I find my pulse, but seconds later I realize that something's wrong. It's almost as if there are two pulses in my body, existing side by side, one weak and one strong. I feel the other side of my neck and find the same thing. Opening my eyes, I watch in horror as Dagwood steps closer, and finally I can see the look of concern in his eyes.

  "It's been getting stronger for years," he says, reaching out and feeling my pulse for himself. "It's now stronger than your own, which means it's ready."

  "What's ready?" I ask, trying to keep his attention as I get ready with the chains.

  "He needed a vessel," he continues, with his fingers still pressed against my neck. "He needed to hide, and to wait, and to recover. He's ready to come out now, though. Fortunately, the gestation period is far, far shorter than nine months. After we -"

  "What gestation period?" I ask, trying not to panic.

  "Don't you remember?" he replies, leaning closer. "Maybe it's not a memory, maybe it felt more like a dream, but don't you remember when we were together?"

  I shake my head, even though I can't help but think back to that vivid dream I had a few nights ago. It seemed so real, and now I'm starting to wonder if it was rooted in something that really happened.

  "He hid in your body since you were a child," Dagwood continues, "but when it was time for him to leave, he needed another vessel. That's why we..." He keeps his fingers on my neck for a moment, before running them slowly down toward my collarbone. "I want you to know that I really am attracted to you," he says, and for the first time since I woke up there's a hint of emotion in his voice. "It's important to me that you understand that. When you were at Dr. Mammone's facility, all the times we made love -"

  "We never did that," I say, pushing his hand away.

  "We did," he replies, "and I know you remember. Or if you don't remember, then at least you've got a sense of it. You had to become pregnant, Kate, and now there's a child growing in your belly. The child is going to serve as the vessel -"

  "You keep talking about a vessel," I reply, "but I don't know what the hell you mean."

  "A body," he continues. "Flesh and blood. A means by which he can escape from you. He's grateful for everything you've done for him, and he understands the sacrifices you've made. Every moment of pain you've felt has been shared, and he's screamed and cried along with you. I'm sure you've changed h
im, just as he's changed you, but this symbiotic relationship has to end some time, Kate. I'm sure you understand that you just can't go on. Your body would never survive."

  I stare at him, and although I want to tell him he's insane, there's a voice deep in my heart that seems to recognize a hint of logic in the things he's saying.

  "Who?" I ask eventually.

  He doesn't reply.

  "If everything you're saying is true," I continue, trying not to let my voice tremble too much, "then who are you talking about?"

  "You don't strictly need to know," he replies.

  "Tell me."

  "Kate -"

  "Tell me," I say firmly.

  He pauses.

  "The Devil wants to walk the earth," he says after a moment. "For that, he needed a body."

  "My body?"

  "No. His own body, but he needed a man and a woman to create a body for him. That's was our job, Kate. Your parents allowed him to enter you when you were a child, and he waited until you reached the right age to carry your own baby. For years, we all assumed you'd eventually become pregnant as a part of your normal life, but that never happened. Finally, we had to take steps to ensure that a child began to grow inside you."

  "So you kidnapped me and forced me to sleep with you?" I ask, trying to keep my anger under control. I feel as if there's a great sense of panic and rage building in my body, but I need to harness these feelings and use them against him.

  "You weren't forced to do anything," he replies. "You enjoyed it. Sometimes, you even initiated it."

  "Bullshit," I spit at him.

  "Just because you don't remember, don't think that you did anything against your will."

  "You're insane," I reply.

  He sighs.

  "That's okay, though," I continue. "Whatever's wrong with you, it's clearly deep, so I'm not going to try to help you. I just need you to let me go."

  He shakes his head.

  "Why not?" I ask.

  "We've worked to hard for this moment," he replies. "You have no idea how much time and money has -"