The Devil You Know

by Richard Levesque

  She opened her purse and took out her wallet. Bezgerek noticed that the purse was almost empty with the exception of a nearly spent bottle of liquor. Francine took a small, edge worn snapshot out of her wallet and handed it to Bezgerek. It was a picture of a strapping farm boy of eighteen or so, standing in front of a tractor with his legs wide and his arms folded across his broad chest. His face looked weathered, but he had a kind smile. “He’s waiting,” she said. “I hope.”

  “Suppose I pay your hotel bill for you, Francine, and give you bus fare home? How would that be?”

  She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared up at him, her mouth hanging open. He merely smiled in response. Then another thought seemed to cross her mind, and she closed her mouth, her expression suddenly serious and almost fearful. “What would you want in exchange?” she asked.

  He gave her a kind, fatherly smile and said, “Absolutely nothing.”

  Tearfully, she accepted. Bezgerek led her to the curb and looked for a cab among the waves of oncoming traffic. The cars that rolled by on Sunset were loud, their big engines rumbling in unison; he soon saw a yellow one and raised a hand to hail it. The door squeaked as he opened it, and he stood aside to let Francine climb in first. Once inside, she gave the cabby the name of her hotel, and they sat back on the worn seat, the car’s interior smelling musty. As they rode, Francine kept repeating, “You’re an angel. You must just be an angel.”

  The hotel was a dump, a little two-story affair with peeling paint on the exterior and a courtyard parking lot that had probably not been paved in twenty years. Bezgerek assumed Francine had been able to stay here quite a while on not much money. It was the sort of place where she would have quickly come to realize that not everyone who worked and lived in Hollywood was glamorous or happy.

  Leaving her outside the office, he went in and paid her bill, adding one more night’s lodging. “She won’t be here any longer than that,” he assured the manager, who handed him a key.

  Once they got into Francine’s room, he looked around at the squalor and realized what a favor he truly was doing her. The place was filthy. She had been living out of her cardboard suitcase, it appeared, and the trash she had let pile up in the room included dozens of empty liquor bottles. The drink more than anything had most likely driven her from Arkansas and had kept her from finding the glamour she craved.

  Francine had her back to him, trying to straighten some of her things where they were piled on the bed. “I’m so embarrassed to have you see how I’ve been living,” she said with a nervous laugh.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of. This is a hard town for someone not used to it.”

  “I’ll say.”

  Bezgerek had decided in the taxi that he should just have her once, that she was too pathetic to string along. It would almost be merciful, he thought and tried not to grin too maliciously. Trembling with anticipation at how decadent it would be to take her completely, he prepared to transform himself.

  “I’m afraid I have a confession to make, Francine,” he said serenely.

  She turned quickly to look at him, fear and suspicion registering on her face once more. Bezgerek could see that she’d dealt with predators before, probably not always successfully.

  “I’m not really Tyrone Power,” he said, and in that instant he changed.

  Her mouth dropped open as she beheld him. He glowed now and had given himself a pair of white wings that spread out behind him.

  “You really are an angel,” she gasped.

  He drew in a deep breath to expand his chest even more and watched in exhilaration as she got on her knees before him, tears glistening in her eyes. He could see that she believed she was saved, that this was nothing less than divine intervention. Her adoration filled him with such a sense of his own power that he trembled, and knew he could wait no longer to have her. Overwhelmed with the desire to consume her, he transformed again into the corn fed farm boy from the picture she had shown him.

  “Walter,” she murmured in disbelief.

  Then he was on her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Marie stayed with Tom until the evening. The police left not long after Jasper’s body had been removed. Sergeant Clifford left Marie his card and told her he would be in touch if anything developed on the burglary investigation. When they were gone, the house seemed far too quiet, and Marie talked Tom into taking a little drive. They kept the windows down, the fresh air doing both of them good. After a quiet meal at a burger stand on La Brea, they drove back to the house. All the while, Marie kept an eye on him, watching for signs that he might be slipping away again. Though he was quiet and thoughtful, he was not withdrawn and always responded when she spoke. By the time she got him back home, it was after six, and the sun had gone down. They walked out to the gazebo, talking quietly for a while until Tom grew silent.

  Marie put a hand on his and said, “Maybe you’d like to get some rest.”

  He turned toward her, and for a moment she thought he was going to ask her to stay with him tonight, his eyes expressing a sad tenderness that bordered on desire. She would have said yes if he’d asked, but after a moment, he only nodded and said, “Maybe that would be best.”

  Marie nodded, then gave him a little smile and a kiss. “You’ll call me if you need me? Anytime?”

  “All right.”

  “I’m serious. If it’s three in the morning, you call me—got it?”

  Tom smiled at her. “Got it.”

  “Good.”

  They said goodnight, and Marie drove home with the car radio off. When she thought of Jasper, tears came again, so she tried to think of Tom instead. Her mind wandered, though, and she was dwelling on Julian Piedmont and the incubi by the time she pulled up in front of her house. When she had first come to Jasper for help with the incubi, it had been a quest for knowledge. Once the old man had helped her see just what Piedmont and his monsters were up to, it became a quest to stop them and save their victims. But with Jasper dead, Marie now wanted nothing more than vengeance.

  After she fed Murphy, she took out the notes she’d made over the last week and pored over all the threads of ideas that she and Jasper had given each other. Sitting in her favorite chair by the front window, she read page after page. When she came to an exorcism prayer that Jasper had dictated from one of his books, she read it carefully several times and told herself that she would need to commit it to memory if she really planned to drive the demons from their artificial bodies. As she went over the prayer, though, she asked herself how she was going to get the chance to use it. The answer, she realized, had to be Colin Krebs. The man might be pathetic, but he at least had a stake in seeing the demons stopped. If she could get him to betray Julian Piedmont and lead the demons to her, she would have a chance.

  When the phone rang, she jumped in her seat. Then she dropped her notes to the floor and ran to the phone, certain that it was Tom on the line. She glanced at her watch as she raced to the kitchen to grab the receiver off the wall and saw that it was almost ten o’clock. “Hello?” she said, trying to keep worry out of her voice.

  It was not Tom who replied, but rather a woman. “Hello, is this Marie?”

  Marie did not recognize the voice. A bit taken aback, she said, “Yes. Who’s this?”

  “It’s Laura Tremaine.”

  Surprised to find that the woman had not yet joined the ranks of other victims at Camarillo, Marie replied, “Laura?”

  “Yes, you came to my—”

  Marie cut her off. “Yes, yes. I remember. I just…didn’t expect to hear from you after that.”

  “I know. I’m sorry I was rude.”

  “Well, what I had to say probably sounded pretty bizarre.”

  There was a moment’s pause, and then Laura said, “What you said about…him.”

  “Is it happening the way I said?”

  “Yes,” Laura said. She sounded frightened. “Just like you said. He comes and we’re together and�
��and then I just don’t know.”

  “You’ve got to stop. Is it taking you longer and longer to get back to normal after you’ve been with him?”

  “I don’t know what normal is anymore.”

  The poor thing, Marie thought. She wondered why Laura had been able to last so long whereas Elise had been driven into her bizarre state after only a few visits from her demon lover. In the end, it didn’t matter. The only important thing was getting Laura away from the monster. And then an idea occurred to Marie.

  “Laura,” she said, “do you want to make it stop?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you want to save yourself? Make him go away forever and never bother you again?”

  “How can you stop him?”

  “It’s hard to explain. Maybe we could meet. ”

  “That’s why I called,” Laura said. “I was hoping you could come by so we could talk about all of this. It would be better for me to speak face to face.”

  “Okay. How’s tomorrow afternoon?” Marie said before realizing that Tom might need her tomorrow to help plan Jasper’s funeral. She would find a way to work around it. She had already let Father Joe know what had happened and had asked for the next day off work, so she knew she should have time for everything she needed.

  “Can’t you come tonight?” Laura asked.

  “Tonight? It’s a little…”

  “Please! I just don’t know what I’m going to do if he comes around tonight wanting…you know.”

  Marie sighed, looking at her watch again. She wanted to be here in case Tom called, but at the same time, this might be her only chance to meet with Laura and move forward on the work Jasper had given his life for. Tom was most likely sound asleep with a Nembutal, and if he did try calling when she was gone, she knew he would understand tomorrow when she explained everything.

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll come. Give me fifteen minutes or so.”

  She freshened up in the bathroom, added some more food to Murphy’s bowl, and grabbed her purse and keys. She thought about taking some of her notes with her to show Laura more specifically what they were dealing with, but decided against it. The demon’s victim would know more about the demons than Marie, and no amount of references from Jasper’s books could make her situation more real.

  Driving along Melrose and then working her way up to Hollywood and Ivar, she thought of different ways to suggest to Laura what she had in mind. Laura had sounded distraught and possibly disoriented, and Marie knew she could not count on her to be a willing helper in defeating the demon. Even if Laura agreed to act as bait for the incubus now, she could very easily change her mind or forget the idea altogether once the time arrived. It doesn’t matter, though, Marie told herself. All she needed was to be at Laura’s apartment when the demon returned, and with any luck, Jasper’s prayers would do the rest.

  She had a hard time finding parking on the steep street where Laura lived and had to leave her car several buildings away at the top of the hill. Paying no mind to the click of her heels on the sidewalk, Marie almost ran down the hill toward the apartment building, feeling a rush of adrenaline in anticipation of finally getting an upper hand on the incubi and Julian Piedmont. Inside the building, she rushed past Mrs. Thomas’ apartment, took a deep breath and rapped lightly on Laura Tremaine’s door.

  It opened a crack. Marie saw a sliver of Laura’s face—one wide eye, a cheek, and her hair. Beyond, the apartment was darkened save for the flicker of candles. “Laura?” she said quietly, half expecting the woman to have forgotten their phone conversation. “It’s me. Marie.”

  “No one else came with you?” she whispered, her voice edged with fear.

  “No. I’m alone.”

  “You said there were others. That he was part of a group.”

  Marie nodded. She wanted to be let inside and not to have this conversation in the hallway. “It’s true. But I have nothing to do with them. They’re who I’m trying to stop.”

  Laura blinked and remained silent a moment. “Will they come for me?”

  “Who?”

  “The others.”

  Confused, Marie said, “No. I mean…why would they? Do they know about you?”

  “They might. Who knows what he’s told them.”

  “I don’t—” Marie began.

  “Who are they?”

  Demons from hell, Marie wanted to say. Now let me into your goddamn apartment. Instead, she took a deep breath and said, “They seem to be connected to a man who lives up in the hills. He sends them down to do what they do to young women.”

  “Who is he?”

  Marie glanced up and down the hallway. “Let me in and I’ll tell you.”

  Again, Laura blinked and said nothing. She closed the door for a second, and Marie heard the rattle of the safety chain being undone. Then the door opened just wide enough to let Marie inside the apartment and closed again behind her. As she had thought, it was almost completely darkened. An end table near the door had a thick candle burning on it. In the dim light, it looked like Laura had arranged a cheap dressing screen to divide the room in half, and another faint, flickering light beyond it told Marie that there must be another candle burning there. She was able to step into the room, but could get no farther, as Laura blocked her way, giving no indication that she was ready to move.

  “Well?” she said, her voice still just above a whisper.

  Unsure of herself, Marie decided there was little to be lost from telling Laura the truth. The woman may have been unbalanced, but Marie still needed her, and as volatile as she was, it would not do to get caught in a lie. “His name is Julian Piedmont,” she said.

  Her eyes already wide, Laura’s face took on a look of even greater fear. “As in Piedmont Pictures?” she said.

  Marie nodded.

  “Oh, Jesus.”

  “What is it?”

  Laura shook her head and took a step back from the door, Marie matching the movement with her as though it were a dance. “Someone with that kind of money. He’s going to find out. He’ll come after me for sure.”

  Unsure if the woman was delusional or just not making herself clear, Marie said, “Why? What is it you think you’ve done?”

  Now Laura smiled in spite of herself. “I wanted to stop you, you know. And to protect myself at the same time. And to keep him all to myself. It took me a couple days to get the nerve up, but I did it. I figured if I could bring you here, let you see what it’s like…you’d stop trying to—” She shook her head for a moment and clenched her teeth, then spit out the rest of her sentence. “Ruin everything!”

  Marie had begun to feel a sinking dread as Laura spoke. Shaking, she took a step back toward the door, one hand reaching out behind her for the knob. Laura Tremaine was a lost cause; it would be futile to try enlisting her in the fight against the incubi. Marie no longer wanted to know what Laura was talking about, what she feared, or why she feared it. All that mattered was getting back out the door and into the hallway.

  When Laura swung a fist toward Marie’s shoulder, she tried to dodge and block at the same time, but Laura must have thought everything through quite carefully. With Marie focused on the one attacking hand, Laura was easily able to reach out with her other hand. Marie felt the prick of a needle before she even noticed that Laura’s other hand had moved. Twisting away, she slapped at Laura’s hand and saw something fly out of it in the dim light. Marie dropped her purse and lunged at Laura, knocking her down and landing on top of her. In seconds, she was straddling Laura’s chest with one hand on her throat and the other clenched in a fist, ready to punch her in the face. At the same time, she began to feel a bit woozy.

  “What was that? What did you do?” she barked at Laura.

  Laura smiled under her weight, seemingly content to be struck and waiting for it. Then, perhaps thinking better of it, or perhaps not thinking at all, she said, “Just a little something to help you sleep.”

  “Why?” Now Marie could feel the
dizziness intensify at the back of her head, but the rage she felt at being drugged counteracted it to a small degree.

  “I told you,” Laura said with a sneer. “To keep you from ruining everything. One ought to work well enough on you. I tried it. Just makes everything nice. It takes four to keep Taylor in line.”

  “Taylor? Who’s—?” Marie stopped short. Suddenly, she understood. The demon was on the other side of the screen. Laura had held him here as her captive, administering drugs to keep him from being able to control his body. And while Marie now saw that she had the thing within her grasp, the drug that had slowly made it through her tissues and into her blood and brain now made her feel rather unconcerned. She had to fight the urge to lie down on the floor and wait for the dizziness and lethargy to pass.

  Apparently aware of this, Laura laughed and began to squirm out from under Marie. The movement brought Marie back to her senses for a moment. She slammed her fist down onto the other woman’s face, splitting her lip. Laura cried out and began to thrash under Marie, who struck her again and again until she lay still.

  “God damn it,” Marie muttered as she climbed off of Laura. Her hand throbbed horribly, but the drug in her system made her not care about the pain. She got unsteadily to her feet and picked up the candle from the end table. On the floor, she saw the spent syrette that Laura had poked her with, the little plastic tube that had contained the drug now squeezed empty. There were bound to be more of them in the apartment, but that was of little concern to her now.

  Moving deliberately, she went around the dressing screen and found a naked man tied to Laura’s bed. Thick ropes held his arms and legs with solid knots, the other ends tied to the fold-down legs of the bed. He appeared to be asleep, but even so Marie approached him cautiously, holding the candle near his face to reveal the incubus who looked like Cary Grant. She could not help noticing how handsome he was, and looking over his nude body was a revelation. Whether it was Julian Piedmont’s guidance in how to shape the body or just the perfection of the spell Colin Krebs had cast, Marie did not know, nor did it matter; all she saw was a perfect specimen—tall and broad-chested with well defined muscles all across his body.