Sylvia laughed and said, “Now, let me get this dog off you. I have shamed myself enough for one day. There is no reason for you to be mauled by my dog too.”
“No, it is OK, really,” Father Morales said as he started to lightly scratch behind Snowy’s ears. “I love dogs, and this one here reminds me so much of my little Juanita back at the parish.”
“Well, I can tell you love dogs,” Sylvia said.
“I always have,” Father Morales said. “And who could resist this little fuzzball?” he asked as he began tickling Snowball’s stomach.
“And, it appears they love you right back,” Sylvia said. “Honestly, I have never seen Snowy behave so shamelessly. You have a new fan.”
“She is a cutie. But…, back to Alyssa for a moment. I am curious,” Father Morales said. “If you have never met her, why were you in her apartment?”
“It is a long story,” Sylvia said. “And, I will say, it is an odd one. But…, you first. What is your connection to Alyssa? Have you known her long?”
“Not very,” he said. “Just a few months. She seems like a very intelligent and wonderful young woman. I do hope she is all right. We had an appointment a few weeks back that she missed. I tried calling her multiple times only to get her voicemail. I feared she might be avoiding me, so, I thought I would just show up uninvited.”
“What, if you don’t mind me asking, brought you over tonight, though?” Sylvia asked.
“Ladies first,” he replied. He crooked his mouth into a wry grin as he added, “After all, I did ask you first, and, I do love a long story — especially if it is odd, as you say.”
Sylvia said, “well…, OK, here goes. Through a set of circumstances, I still cannot fathom, not only am I Alyssa’s neighbor but, I am sitting at her old desk at work.”
“Oh,” Father Morales said. “You work at UVid?”
“Sure do,” Sylvia said. “I just started.”
“Well…,” Father Morales said, “I hope this isn’t offensive, but…”
“—But, how can I work for such a purveyor of filth?” Sylvia responded, anticipating his question.
“I would have been more polite about the phrasing, but, yes,” Father Morales said. “Alyssa really hated that job. The stuff she told me people post online! Sick!”
“Yes, very much so,” Sylvia said. “And hence the reason the burnout rate for the video reviewing staff is so high.”
“So I heard,” Father Morales said. “And from what Alyssa told me, I can certainly see why.”
“Yes, and that is why I took the job,” Sylvia said. “I am actually a psychologist by training.”
“A psychologist? Well…, no doubt you will have plenty of material to work with. Some of those videos had to have been created by the mentally ill. But…, I don’t understand. I thought the videos were uploaded from the general public.”
“They are. I work with the employees reviewing the videos, like Alyssa,” Sylvia said. “My specialty is treating patients suffering from PTSD, and it appears quite a few UVid employees are disturbed by what they have to view.”
“Ah, I see,” Father Morales said. “That makes sense.”
“So, did Alyssa come to you for guidance over something she saw in one of the videos?” Sylvia asked.
“Well…,” Father Morales said. “Take this the right way, but, you know I can’t answer that.”
“Oh?” Sylvia asked. “Confidentiality of confession, right?”
“The sacrament of reconciliation is absolute,” Father Morales said. “And even if I were inclined to violate it, which I’m not, I would be defrocked if I did.”
“I figured as much,” Sylvia said.
Father Morales said, “But, now that I have that out of the way, I can tell you this. She did not come to me because of any videos. It was something else entirely.” He paused before pointing at Sylvia and saying, “But you aren’t constrained by any rule of confidentiality. Why don’t you say what brought you here tonight?”
“Among the many other things I can’t quite wrap my head around, the final straw bringing me to Alyssa’s apartment tonight was the call I received at work. It was meant for Alyssa,” Sylvia said. “It was so threatening and bizarre, I thought I should warn her about it.”
“Warn her? What was the call about?” Father Morales asked. “Did someone threaten Alyssa?”
Sylvia paused and then asked, “Did you know that Alyssa was pregnant?”
“I did,” Father Morales nodded. “And I also know she is keeping the baby.”
“Maybe,” Sylvia said.
“Maybe?” Father Morales said, his brow furrowing as his voice dropped. “What do you mean, maybe? I was helping to arrange an open adoption. It was all set up.”
“Well, she may have told you that was her intention, but the caller indicated her boyfriend, Darryl, might have quite a different opinion on the baby,” Sylvia said. “I don’t know exactly what Alyssa and her boyfriend were involved in, but it appears one of those things was a twisted love triangle that apparently went sour. The caller appeared to be a crazy Ex of Darryl’s. Anyway, the conversation was kind of spooky, so, I thought I owed it to Alyssa to give her a head’s up.”
“Spooky? How so?”
“The caller made some allusions to some money Daryl owed her.”
“That doesn’t sound particularly spooky,” Father Morales said.
“No,” Sylvia said. “But, it was her weird references to some sort of Circle ritual that set my teeth on edge. It had a bizarre cultish feel to it.”
“Alyssa, like many young people, has made some poor choices in her past,” Father Morales said. “She dabbled in the darkness for far too long, but, I know she is turning her life around now. I will not let her slide back into that pit again.”
“Dabbled in darkness?” Sylvia said. She reflexively rolled her eyes.
“Ah…,” Father Morales said as he spied her skeptical glance. “I see you are not a person of faith. Well…, believe me, darkness exists. Alyssa danced with the devil a bit too cozily. Thank God she saw the light before it was too late.”
“I don’t know about all of that sort of thing,” Sylvia said, “but I do know her office mate said she was into all kinds of new age crap. Frankly, it astonishes me that people still fall for all this mumbo jumbo nonsense. It is the twenty first century, after all.”
“They do. And one should always be careful about what doors they open,” Father Morales said. “Because once some doors are opened they cannot be so easily closed. What comes through is not always what was invited.”
“Yeah…, OK,” Sylvia said as she struggled to remain polite and not have some snide remark slip out. “Well, Father, on the bright side, it appears that whatever you said to her took. You should get a load of that crazy closet of hers. No doubt that was your influence. I was just about to open it when you came in.”
“Closet?”
“Oh,” Sylvia said. “I guess you didn’t see it.”
“No,” Father Morales said as he lightly rubbed the side of his head. “Things took a sudden and dramatic turn when I first arrived, and then, of course, we came over here to your apartment.”
Sylvia blushed, looked down and said, “yeah, again, I am sorry about that.”
“Really, it is no problem,” Father Morales said. “But…, about this closet—”
“—Well, Alyssa’s door is still open,” Sylvia said. “Let’s go take a peek. It is better to see it for yourself. I can’t really explain it.”
“I wonder if we should call the police first?” Father Morales said. “The call you described sounded pretty threatening and it is not like Alyssa to just go missing like this. Maybe the caller did something to her?”
“Well, first of all, we don’t even know whether or not she is missing,” Sylvia said.
“No, but it sure seems like a crime was possibly committed here,” Father Morales said.
“Yes,” Sylvia said. “By us. Technically, we broke into her apar
tment, even though the door was unlocked. And even if we did call the police, what would we say? We walked into some woman’s apartment that I don’t know, and you barely know, and found she wasn’t there. Whoop-de-doo! I doubt they are going to put out a dragnet for a young woman not meeting up with her priest as promised. No offense, Father, but I doubt you are the first man of the cloth to be stood up.”
“Yes, I suppose you are right,” Father Morales said. “When you put it that way, I am sure the police would just tell us to mind our own business.”
“Or arrest us for breaking and entering,” Sylvia said. She laughed as she added, “and they could book me on assault and battery, too, as icing on the cake!”
“Still, we can’t just sit here,” Father Morales said. “I feel something is wrong — terribly, terribly wrong.”
“Let’s go back to her apartment,” Sylvia said. “Maybe we can find something that will clear all of this up. Who knows, maybe she ran off with Daryl and went back home to Kentucky.”
“Kentucky?” Father Morales said. “Was Alyssa from Kentucky? She never said.”
“I guess she is,” Sylvia said. “The caller said so. It was crazy. The woman thought I was Alyssa when I was on the phone with her. She said she could tell from my accent. It’s weird. I always thought I didn’t have an accent.”
“Frankly, I wouldn’t know,” Father Morales said as he grinned. “All you Anglos sound the same to me.”
After coaxing a very reluctant Snowy out of Father Morales’ arms, Sylvia and the priest returned to Alyssa’s apartment next door. Everything was just as it was when they left a half hour ago. Sylvia glanced down at the floor and exhaled. “Shew, I am glad we didn’t get blood on the carpet. That sure would be hard to explain.”
Father Morales glanced around the apartment and said, “Alyssa sure keeps a tidy place.” He ran his finger over the dining room table and added, “but it is strange. This layer of dust everywhere worries me.”
“Yeah, me too,” Sylvia said. “It is like the apartment has been empty for quite a while. It is very odd. It is almost like…, hey…., wait a minute—” Her words stopped in her throat as her eyes narrowed. Across the living room on the floor she spied a small, blinking, red light. Sylvia walked across the room as her feet made fresh tracks in the perfectly vacuumed carpet.
“What is it? What do you see?” Father Morales said.
“I don’t know yet, but I have a hunch.” She bent down and said, “Ah…, just as I thought.” Sylvia lifted an object off the floor, held it out in front of her, and said, “it’s Alyssa’s cell phone.”
“That’s not good,” Father Morales said.
“No. It isn’t,” Sylvia said. Something else caught her attention. Reaching over to the chair in front of the desk, she retrieved a red purse off the back. After opening it, she peered inside and saw a wallet, keys, makeup, and various other items. “And this is a very, very bad sign. There is no way Alyssa willingly left the apartment without her cellphone, keys, and purse. No way! Something has happened to her! When I think about the knocked over chair and her towel laying on the bedroom floor, completely out of place with the rest of the apartment, I think something really terrible has happened to her. I think we are going to have to call the police.”
“You are right,” Father Morales said. “But before we call the police, I want to see this closet you mentioned. I too have a hunch, and God, I hope I am wrong.”
“Right through here,” Sylvia said as she led him into the back bedroom.
When they entered, Father Morales gasped and crossed himself when he saw the rosary covered door. “I see she took my advice, but I never thought she would go this far.”
Sylvia flinched and took a step back as a small bubble of dread started percolating in her spine. She reflexively glanced back at the front door, looking for a quick exit, just in case. “You told her to do this?” she said as she pointed at the closet door. “Why? I just thought it was something she did on her own.”
“Like I said earlier,” Father Morales said. “Alyssa was into some very dark things. Playing around with forces she should never have engaged. Evil must be disposed of properly. I told her to rid her apartment of all the remnants of her old life and seal it away with something holy before I was able to come over. One of the things I was going to do when we met again was to dispose of everything properly.”
“Evil things, I suppose?” Sylvia said as she smirked.
“Yes, evil things,” Father Morales said. “Evil exists, Sylvia, whether you believe it or not.”
“Evil is a social construct, Father,” Sylvia said, her eyes closing as she spoke. She lightly bit her lip. She had said too much. Her words had flown out of her mouth before she could stop them. Sighing, she forced her tone to lighten as she added, “But…, I too am curious as to what is inside.”
“Look, Sylvia,” he said. “I know you do not believe in these things, but, your belief or disbelief makes no difference. Evil exists, and it is dangerous. Now, you are going to have to trust me on this. We need to do this correctly before we call the police.”
“OK, OK,” Sylvia said as she put her hands up in the air and backed away.
He pulled a leather pouch from his coat pocket and opened it. In it was a small vile of water, similar in size to a flask, but clear with a gold cross etched into the crystal. Sylvia immediately guessed what it was. Of course, how cliché. What Priest doesn’t carry holy water?
Father Morales crossed himself and said something under his breath. Sylvia guessed it was a prayer. She then watched him dribble a small stream of the water onto the floor. Swinging his hand in a semi-circle, he traced an arc of holy water in front of the door. He reached for the door and turned the knob. Click… Click… Click…
“I tried earlier. It is locked,” Sylvia said.
Father Morales said nothing but nodded. He reached up to the doorsill and ran his fingers along the edge. He smiled as he brought his hand down and held up a small key. “Bingo! I thought it was worth a shot.”
“That was one hell of a good guess, Father,” Sylvia said.
“Before we pop open the champagne and celebrate,” Father Morales said, “let’s make sure it fits the lock.” He slid the key into the tumbler and turned. Click. The door opened.
Sylvia leaned forward to look inside. She was unimpressed. There were a dozen black candles, a couple of golden pentagrams, a silver chalice and a rather elaborate looking dagger. Nothing she had not seen in abundance at the local Spencer’s Gifts store. It was all too Black Sabbath, 1970s Heavy Metal rock-ish for her taste, and it all seemed so juvenile.
In the back of the closet, however, something was left behind. It was covered by a blue tarp. She turned and watched Father Morales mouthing more prayers as he made the sign of the cross over the contents of the closet. If Alyssa wasn’t missing, and there wasn’t the distinct possibility of foul play, this whole ritual would have seemed silly. Under normal circumstances, she was sure she would have been laughing by now. After a few minutes of more prayers, and a couple more dousings of holy water, Father Morales pulled off the tarp with a sharp jerk.
Sylvia felt her knees buckle and she grew dizzy as the contents were revealed. There, leaning up against the back wall of the closet was a small statue, approximately three feet tall. It was a skeleton. Instead of looking sinister, like some sort of Halloween decoration all in orange or black, it was bright white. The statue was wearing a wedding dress. Its eyes were red, but not a demon fiery red from some cartoonish decoration. The red came from the two rubies inserted into the skeleton’s empty eye sockets. The smile leering out at her from the skull - full, stark, and uncanny, was broad, and oddly, cheerful.
Father Morales sighed, crossed himself and said, “not this again. Dear sweet Jesus in heaven, not this again.” From behind him, he heard a loud thud. When he spun around, he saw Sylvia sprawled out flat on the floor. She had fainted.
Chapter 14
April 21st, 1996 - New
York Presbyterian Hospital - Room 312 - New York City - 8:30 AM
Sylvia opened her eyes and blinked as she awoke. Everything around her was blurry and fuzzy, like she was looking at the world through a mason jar of olive oil. Her sense of hearing was normal, though, as was her sense of smell. In fact, it was her sense of smell that woke her. A crisp, antiseptic stench ripped through her nostrils and shook her into consciousness. As she struggled to focus her vision, she heard low murmurs in the background. Charts were being reviewed, diagnoses were being discussed, and these sounds caused a tide of panic to rise in her chest. Where the hell am I? Then, like the morning fog dissipating under a hot August sun, her vision cleared, and she could see unimpaired. Now her suspicion was confirmed. She was in a hospital room.
“Billy!” she cried as she sat up in bed, “where is Billy?”
“Someone needs to get her husband in here, now,” the nurse said to one of the orderlies who promptly charged out of the room.
“Who…, who are you?” Sylvia said as she continued to rise. “And where the hell am I?”
“It’s OK, Mrs. Delaney,” the nurse said. “Your husband will be here in just a moment. He had to excuse himself for a—”
“—Where is my son? What is happening here? Why am I in the hospital?”
“You had a bit of an attack, Mrs. Delaney.”
“Attack? What kind of an attack? Where is Billy? Where is John? I demand to know what you have done with them.”
“It was a panic attack, Mrs. Delaney,” the nurse said. “But, it is nothing to worry about. I am happy to report your MRI results were negative. There has been no brain damage, and you should make a full recovery.”
“I…, I don’t understand,” Sylvia said, her mind confused as a torrent of fresh and terrifying images flooded through her brain. Everything swirled about in her thoughts in a jumble of confusion. She saw Billy, and the park, and John, and then — the police station and then finally…, the priest. The priest! “No! I remember now! No! For God’s sake, get me out of here! No! No! I have to go NOW! NOW!”
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