"Before I made it to the door something picked me up, I mean right up in the air, and then I was pitched over the desk."
"I got up then and ran toward him," Hyde said. "And the drawing table turned over. I spun about and looked toward it, and all of these exacto knives started coming for me like darts. It was like a scene from one of those horror movies. You know, where they do it with butcher knives?"
Danube indicated he understood.
Before continuing, Hyde wiped a bead of perspiration from his forehead. Recalling the incident was reliving it.
"I don't guess those knives would have killed me," he said holding up one of the small instruments. It had a long silver handle and a small, razor-sharp blade. "But the lot of them would have cut me up pretty badly."
"You escaped how?"
" Dropped. They went over me, like a school of fish. That's where they wound up."
He pointed toward one of the framed images on the wall. Eden turned to it and lifted the picture off its hook to reveal the slits where the blades had become embedded.
"There was no explaining that," Hyde said. "I stayed on the floor for a while and asked Rob if he was all right. He was bruised, but he was okay."
We started to get up then." Eden's expression was sober. "We didn't get far before the stuff on the drawing table started flying."
"Wind?"
"It was weirder than that," Eden said.
“The paper is kind of heavy." Hyde picked up one of the large rectangular cards he used for his work. Running a fingertip across the edge of it, he gave Danube an idea of its texture.
"It started kind of whipping through the air. Slashing toward us," Eden said. “We tried backing up a little. It followed us. I threw my arm up, and one of the sheets raked across it."
He held up his right forearm to reveal a thin white scar which streaked through his tan. “It felt like I'd been cut with a sword."
As their descriptions continued, Danube let his mind pick up the memories, re-creating the scene for himself as they told of how they had faced a swirling onslaught. He saw it as if it were happening before him…
The sheets began to spin en masse, twisting about in a uniform pattern that created a huge whirling column. As tall as a person, it came twisting through the air like a ballet dancer, ripping and slashing.
The blood from Eden's wound dripped down his arm, indicating the force was not imagination. It was unexplained, but it was real.
Together they overturned the desk and huddled behind it, letting the paper slam into the desktop to disburse in another burst of wind.
Then, in an instant, it re-formed, taking a position on the other side of the desk and swirling after them again. Before they could move, it slashed forward, cutting Eden near his forehead and slicing through the loose shirt Hyde wore. They scrambled over the desk, and, fleeing the whirling cylinder, leaped over the drawing table.
Despite his weight, Hyde proved agile. Noticing a single piece of paper still resting on the table, Hyde had snatched it up.
It was the last drawing he had been working on, and it featured one of the symbols. He had been sketching a panel in which the Gnelfs open a chamber in a forgotten cavern. The symbol had something to do with openings in some ancient ritual, so he had used it.
As the column of paper moved up over the drawing board and hovered as if about to strike, he ripped the page to shreds.
When that happened, the column was no more. The now-limp paper showered to the floor as if it had been dropped from someone's hands. When it connected with tile, it was still and flat, offering no further sign of animation. As the two men knelt on the floor, looking at the paper, they heard the faint sound of—God almighty! —laughter.
"After that, we thought we musta had some bad shit, but we stopped using the symbols," Hyde said.
“But countless editions of your books and episodes of the cartoon were already on the market."
“We couldn't pull all that shit back," Hyde exclaimed. “You know how much money that would cost the publishers? Hell, it'd make headlines too if we started talking about some weird experience like that. Everybody would think we're crazy."
"You realized the menace of the power those symbols controlled, and you did not attempt to do anything?"
That was the only time anything happened. We didn't think it was real," Hyde said. "Hell, do you know what it was? Can you tell us?"
"Something you did acted as a summoning—through the symbol. You let something in a realm beyond this world reach through, but you closed the opening before true harm could befall you. The creatures have no true form in this realm, so they manipulated what they could to torment you.”
"What do you mean, no form?" Eden asked.
“They are not physical beings. They are spiritual, ethereal. They do not have a tangible presence, so they must either possess something or find some other way to form a physical presence. Fortunately your thoughts were not focused enough on the symbol or they could have utilized the image of it in your mind, and then there would have been no way to banish them. It is interesting the way they attacked you. The wounds you suffered were aggravating yet not life threatening. It was as if your tormentors were … playing pranks."
~*~
The laughter followed the wind through the living room, loud echoing laughter. Heaven sat up abruptly, clinging to her mother.
"It's them," she said. “The Gnelfs."
Gabrielle wrapped her arms protectively around the child and looked back to Tanner and Marley. She didn't have to speak. Both men were already on their feet, and Althea moved to her side, placing her body protectively over the child as well.
As the wind tore at his face and played with his hair, Marley stared into it defiantly until it subsided. Tanner stood at his side, watching him, hoping the preacher knew what to do, but Marley seemed confused. His fists clenched and unclenched, and he kept wetting his lips with his tongue.
He was about to speak when something crashed down on the coffee table, shattering the sheet of glass that covered it, splintering the wood. The table crumpled, no more than a pile of fragments.
"Get the girl out of here," Marley shouted.
Althea and Gab carried Heaven between to the hallway. As they exited the room, a vibration began to stir the glass fragments and wood.
"I rebuke you," Marley shouted as the vibrations continued. He raised one hand and pointed toward the table. "I rebuke you in the name of the Holy One. I rebuke you and command you to go back to the pits from whence you came."
He looked at Tanner then, as if realizing he was being too melodramatic. The vibrations were continuing, and Tanner could feel shockwaves beneath his feet even though the house was on a concrete slab.
When he looked back at the table he saw the glass blast upward, as if an explosive charge had been ignited beneath it. Shards were driving forward like buckshot, and he shoved Marley down, snatching a chair cushion.
He swung it just in time to deflect a spray of shards. The pieces padded into the thick upholstery like shrapnel, but they did not pass through.
Marley was shouting the Twenty-third Psalm now as he crawled behind the couch. Tanner dove after him as the sharp wooden slivers from the table sailed, small misshapen arrows. Some struck the couch and others flew over it, zipping across the room to become embedded in the wall or tangle in the curtains.
Marley rebuked the spirits again and shouted out assorted prayers and blessings. He had begun a liturgy when the laughter returned, low guttural chuckles that mingled.
Slowly, they began to subside. Tanner sighed as he collapsed back against the couch. Beside him, Marley continued to pray, his hands clasped together and his eyes closed tightly. He was asking God for protection for the house.
"I think they're gone." Tanner sighed with relief.
Cautiously, Marley got on his knees and peered over the couch. "I think so too," he said. "I think they left on their own. I wasn't very effective."
“You tried."
"But my faith wasn't strong enough," Marley declared.
"You can't blame yourself," Tanner said. “All hell was breaking loose."
~*~
Heaven was curled between Althea and her mother on Mommy's bed. The three were huddled like refugees from a storm, and though the child could feel the warmth of the women's bodies, she shivered. Her face was pressed against her mother's shoulder, but even the familiar smell of the fabric softener in the clothing did not soothe her.
She wanted to weep, but Mommy was already upset. She didn't want to compound the distress so she kept the tears in check.
Until the words flickered through her thoughts. She shut her eyes tightly and tried to ignore the sound, but the guttural voice of Gnelf Master, that same Gnelf Master who had been talking to her the last few days, came back to her.
We could have killed them all if we'd wanted to, Bitch.
She grunted softly into Mommy's shoulder. She didn't want anybody hurt, not Mommy or Mommy's friends. These people were all here to help her.
We could have hurt them. We still could.
She didn't speak. Mommy would hear and be scared. More scared and worried than she was now. No, she couldn't let that happen. That was what the Gnelfs wanted.
Tell your Mommy something for us. She held her breath and bit her lower lip, summoning defiance from somewhere within herself.
She'll need to know. We're going to get anybody that's in our way. We're going to fuck them good. Tell her that. Tell her her friends are fucked.
Heaven began to weep, unable to stop the tears any longer. She cried onto Mommy's shoulder even as Althea's hands touched her back in an effort to comfort her.
Why were they doing this? Why were they hurting people because of her? It didn't make sense to a four—almost five—year-old brain. They were going to "fuck" her mother's friends. She didn't know what that meant, but it had to be something horrible.
~*~
In the shadows which shrouded the night, Simon stood, his form almost invisible near the oak on the corner. Slowly he lowered the baculum and nodded in approval. He was accomplishing his task. He would find what he wanted, gain what he needed. The door was opening, and the little girl would serve him even as he fulfilled the request for which he had been hired.
He had accepted the job not for money but for opportunity. It was the moment he had worked toward from the time he had first picked up a book on sorcery. It was the moment of his destiny, the moment that would bring him the power he had always desired, the power of domination.
He had not been taken seriously, had been an outcast, the brunt of jokes, but that was past. Now he would be the one to be feared. He would rip open the world and reach into its guts and twist, and the universe would writhe in pain.
~*~
Tanner and Marley cleaned the remains of glass and timber from the living room, plucked the embedded shards and splinters from the walls and furniture, and carted the debris to the garbage can outside. They spoke little while they worked, each awed by what he had witnessed.
When they walked into the bedroom, they found Heaven dozing between Althea and Gabrielle. The psychologist held a finger to her lips to keep them silent. Easing away from the child, she slid off the edge of the bed. She winced as her buttocks cleared the mattress but had regained composure when she reached the doorway.
“What happened?"
“The coffee table tried to kill us," Marley whispered.
"What did you do?"
“We ducked," Tanner said.
“This sounds like the bad trips my patients on drugs describe," Althea said. "I'm going to stay here with her. She's sleeping, and hopefully she won't have any dreams."
"I'll stay too," Tanner volunteered. Across the room he saw Gab's eyebrows rise. She couldn't protest verbally without waking Heaven.
He mouthed the word "couch," to her, then placed his palms together and rested his cheek against them to denote sleeping.
She shrugged.
"I suppose I should stay too," Marley said.
Althea shook her head. "You'd better go home to your family, Parson. If we all sleep in our clothes—uncomfortably—we'll all be exhausted."
"Well …"
"Really. Rest. You'll be needed again I'm sure. Besides, it wouldn't look right for a married preacher to spend the night in a single girl's house, especially when there's a hot babe like me on the premises."
He grinned, blushed a bit, and finally conceded. "Call me if anything goes wrong," he said.
“We will," Althea promised. “If we're able to call." She ran a hand across her forehead. Her fingers were trembling despite her effort to appear composed.
She walked with Tanner and Marley to the front door, where Marley reiterated his request to be called if anything went wrong. She promised again she would phone and then waved goodbye.
"What the hell is happening?" she asked as she and Tanner moved onto the front steps.
"I wish I knew."
She pulled out a package of cigarettes. After offering one to Tanner she lit and tilted her head back in a classic smoker's pose. Her eyes closed as the smoke eased into her lungs.
"Guess I picked the wrong year to give up men and cigarettes?"
"The devil made you do it, I guess."
"Don't even joke about it, Tanner. Forty-eight hours ago I would have told you the devil was the product of the human imagination, devised to explain evil. Now I'm rethinking that. It's all so real suddenly. Everything I've believed is being turned around."
"I've never been particularly theological," Tanner said. "I guess I'm not as shaken up in terms of my beliefs, but I can't remember being more afraid."
"This is a weird town," Althea said through another puff of smoke. "I've always heard talk of things going on. Remember the reporter who wrote that book about the girl who talked to angels?"
"That guy Gable Tyler? I heard about that book but never read it. I thought it was just another one of those Amityville-type things."
"It was strange. Then there were the animal attacks in eighty-eight in Bristol Springs. People said a witch was behind those. And in the south part of the parish they say all the answers never came out about that police conspiracy. There was talk of monsters. The Mormo. Now I'm wondering if maybe it's true. Maybe this whole area is cursed or something."
"Maybe evil is everywhere," Tanner said.
When she had finished smoking, they went back into the bedroom and found Gabrielle talking to Heaven. "She woke up," Gab said. "I guess she wasn't sleeping very soundly."
Heaven saw Althea and Tanner in the doorway and her eyes widened. "Where's the preacher?" she asked.
"The parson went home," Althea said. "He was tired, baby, and he wanted to see his children."
"He shouldn't have left," Heaven said. Her hands tightened on Gab's arm, and she looked into her mother's eyes. "He shouldn't have left."
"He just went home," Gab said. "We'll be fine.”
“We will," Heaven said. "He may not."
~*~
Marley's home was in Penn's Ferry, a small town a few miles from Aimsley. Some called it a bedroom community. He supposed that was true. He liked living there. It was peaceful. Nothing ever happened in Penn's Ferry, and he was pleased with that. He didn't have to worry about burglars ransacking his home, and he didn't have to worry about his children playing in the front yard. You had to be careful everywhere these days, but in Penn's Ferry he felt assaults on family, home, and nerves were far less likely.
As he guided his car along the black strip of highway toward home he listened to a sonata by Beethoven on the public broadcasting station. The music took the edge off his fear.
Demons, no doubt about it. He would have to pray deeply and consult another pastor to find the answer to all of this. He didn't know whether he should trust the man Tanner had spoken about. If Danube was so mysterious, he might be connected with the spirits.
Tomorrow he would call Stephen Grant in Atlanta
, his seminary professor. Grant would put him in touch with someone experienced in these things, someone who could tell him how to fight demons. First, he would get home and rest. It was too late to make the call now.
He passed a set of oncoming lights and heard laughter over the sound of the radio. Nervously, he turned to the passenger seat.
In the glow of the street lights he could see the outline of the figure seated there. He blinked, thinking some smudge on his glasses was creating the illusion, but he was mistaken.
There was a little creature the size of a dwarf next to him. Shirtless, its small torso was a mass of muscles. A thick mat of curly dark hair, spread across its shoulders, and it reeked of perspiration. A broad grin wrinkled its hideous little face, and its eyes glowed, their pupils red vertical slits.
"You should have left us alone, fucker."
He looked back to the highway, making sure he was going straight. He realized his arms had tensed and his grip on the wheel was mashing the plastic into his skin.
The vision couldn't be real. He had been thinking too much about all that had happened and he was seeing what he had been thinking about.
He looked back to his side, a slight laugh building in his chest. He shouldn't be laughing, but it was ridiculous. He had an elf at his side, a rather disgusting and smelly elf but an elf indeed. It had sharp ears and a long pointed nose and chin. Beneath its lopsided cap, its greenish black hair was oily and fell down its back in a pony tail. It wore grimy white pants and little shoes that turned up in points at the toes, and it was buckled safely into place with the seat belt.
"I'm real, fuckface," the little creature said. "See me in the books? Now I'm here. I'm what you're afraid I am."
Marley looked at him, then back at the road. "Then I command you to leave."
"You could almost do that, except that you doubt yourself. Your faith is weak, and a little doubt is all I need."
Keeping his hands on the wheel, Marley edged toward the door on the driver's side, glancing at the road and then back at the creature. "I rebuke you," he said.
GNELFS Page 13