A Barricade in Hell

by Jaime Lee Moyer

Randy cleared his throat. “Given his connection to Maximillian and Effie Fontaine, you should worry. Did you file a police report? I’d feel better if the captain had men out looking for Nathan and the car.”

  “He’s right, Dora.” I checked that the front door lock had caught and dropped the key into my bag. “I’d feel much safer knowing some of Gabe’s men were hunting for Nathan.”

  She frowned slightly, but waved her concern away immediately. “I can’t worry about that tonight. I spoke with Gabe earlier and he promised to pass the word along to the squad to watch for the car. That will have to do for now. I’ll file a formal police report if Nathan hasn’t returned Daniel’s car by morning. A friend lent me her touring car for the evening. This is posh enough to make an impression, don’t you think?”

  “Oh yes. A strong impression.” I linked arms with Dora, putting her between me and Randy. The sudden impulse to hold tight to Isadora was a sure sign of how uncertain I was about this evening. What we were about to do should give any sane person an attack of nerves.

  But perhaps the question of our sanity was best left for once we were home again, safe and whole.

  * * *

  Randy found a parking space in front of the house next to the church—a real surprise, considering the crowd outside. The line of people waiting to enter the church hall wound down the front walk and a considerable way down the block. People chatted with others around them, those who had attended lectures before telling newcomers how much they’d enjoyed Miss Fontaine’s talks, and preparing them for the treat to come. We crept close enough to overhear most of what was said, but avoided being pulled into their conversations. That there were three of us clustered together helped.

  Dora eyed the crowd dubiously. “My my, Dee. I hadn’t counted on so many of the upper crust attending the same night. Based on what I’d read in the papers and conversations with your husband, I’d pictured more of a mixed crowd. These aren’t the type of people who could vanish without causing an uproar. I wonder how many are invited to the private reception afterwards.”

  The line moved forward by inches, people filing toward the church hall and surrendering their tickets to the men standing on either side of the door. Neither of them was Maximillian, a huge relief. Avoiding him completely was likely impossible, but I’d put off facing him for as long as possible.

  “Do you know many of these people, Dora?” Randy walked between us, trying not to be too obvious about hovering protectively. “If that’s going to be a problem, we’ll leave.”

  She craned her neck to look at those waiting in line ahead of us. “Not at all. The people I recognize aren’t friends, and the majority of them won’t acknowledge me in public. I’d be very surprised if anyone speaks to me. I’m a society medium, a fortune-teller hired to entertain at parties. That keeps me from being entirely respectable. The fact Daniel and I live together without benefit of marriage makes me positively scandalous.”

  “You’re joking.” Most of Dora’s friends went through this stage, fueled in large part by her outrageous behavior. He’d known her just long enough to be poised on the brink of skepticism and belief, and unsure about which way to fall. Sadly, I knew.

  “No. I’m not.” Dora arched an eyebrow, patently amused. “Surely you don’t think they’d consider me an equal? The only reason I’m not called a whore openly is because Sadie and I are such good friends.”

  Randy stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at Dora. Horror and shock played across his face, but that quickly gave way to anger. “If anyone so much as whispers a word against you, I’ll make them regret it. I mean that.”

  I think that was the moment Dora got an inkling of how Randy Dodd felt about her. The sly, teasing edge left her smile and she touched his hand. “Thank you, but I don’t need a champion. I’ve learned to watch out for myself. As a matter of fact, I’m quite good at that. What I could use is another friend.”

  Randy didn’t look away, searching Dora’s face. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “All right. You’ve got another friend.”

  The three of us had blocked the sidewalk while Randy and Dora worked things out, and caused a small scene. People glared and shoved past, stepping onto the grass or into the street on either side, and muttered about our lack of manners. How frantic they were to get inside to hear Miss Fontaine speak was more than a little disconcerting.

  “So much for not standing out in the crowd. Come along, Randy. We need to get inside.” Dora tugged him into motion. “All the seats will be gone if we don’t hurry.”

  People handed their tickets in once they entered the foyer, and were directed to seats inside the hall. As we got closer, I saw that the tickets came in different colors, yellow and blue in addition to the rusty red slips clutched in Randy’s hand. There were far fewer people turning in red tickets. Blending into the crowd unnoticed grew more unlikely.

  The balding, square-shouldered man who took our tickets from Randy looked us over and smiled. A large, shadowy gap showed between his front teeth. “Guests of Maximillian sit up front. Take any seat in the first five rows.”

  Randy nodded and took my arm as well as Dora’s, making sure we wouldn’t be separated in the crush near the door. The hall was much larger than I’d imagined, more like a good-sized theater or auditorium than a room to hold box socials or quilting bees. A raised stage with heavy velvet curtains as a backdrop filled one end of the room.

  People milled about, hunting for seats and blocking the way forward. Dora took the opportunity to look for empty chairs near the back and the exit, but the man in the foyer frowned and watched us keenly. When he moved toward us, Isadora relented, letting Randy lead us to the front. She leaned and murmured in my ear. “I’m beginning to feel herded, Dee, and that makes me leery. Maybe we should leave after all.”

  Big double doors slammed shut, closing off the foyer, a hollow, final sound that set my heart pounding. The men who’d admitted people to the hall were joined by two others. All of them took up places blocking the exits, arms crossed and looking less than friendly. Given the smiling, eager faces all around, I was certain that I was the only one who’d noticed.

  “I’m not sure we can leave. Miss Fontaine seems to prefer a captive audience.” I moved down the fifth row of chairs to the far end, taking a seat next to the wall. Dora came next, then Randy. We were as isolated as we could get in a hall brimming with people, but I took little comfort in that. Once Effie Fontaine took the stage, we’d be practically under her nose.

  “We’ll just have to hope the risk I took with the hunter pays off.” Dora’s smile was brittle as she looked around, feigning the excitement sweeping the room. Lines of strain deepened around her eyes and pulled at the corners of her mouth. Even I could feel the energy in the room grow stronger, thicker. “If you’d hold off saying I told you so until we’re safely out of here, I’d appreciate it. All my attention is spoken for right now.”

  Organ music filled the church hall, soaring upward from a half-hidden alcove to the left of the stage. The energy in the air grew stronger, thick and strangely still as a thunderstorm about to break. Ghosts shimmered into view: rows of men and women, farmers, merchants, and shopgirls hovered near the ceiling, lined up along the edge of the room and crowded at the back of the stage, half-submerged into the walls.

  Churches were often full of ghosts, but I suspected this gathering wasn’t made up of departed members of the congregation. They were connected to Fontaine, almost certainly victims. I couldn’t tell if these spirits had been summoned by the power in the room, or come to watch Effie Fontaine of their own accord.

  A blue velvet curtain parted at the back of the stage, allowing a double row of men and women dressed in dazzling white robes to march through the murky opening. They split the line at the front of the stage, half going left and the other half right. The choir was already singing a hymn and clapping their hands as they moved into place, voices blending in harmony. People in the audience began to sing and clap as well, cau
ght up in the pageantry.

  And it was a pageant, a show not unlike the revivals held in the church I attended as a child. I’d always appreciated the showmanship and fire of the pastors who traveled from town to town, and how they pulled people deeper into the fever of belief until they couldn’t help but join in and shout hallelujah. The mild-mannered reverend who spoke from the pulpit Sunday after Sunday believed just as deeply, but his sermons inspired little in the way of passion.

  Dora and I traded looks. Passion and belief were a potent source of power unto themselves. Effie Fontaine knew all the tricks.

  A second hymn was nearing its end when I saw the man from the furrier’s shop, Maximillian, slip from behind the left side of the curtain. If I’d been as enraptured as the rest of the audience, I’d never have seen him. He kept to the shadows at the rear of the stage, appearing to watch everyone at once and looking at no one in particular. I knew I didn’t want him to look at me.

  Another man, dressed in a gold-trimmed black robe and grinning broadly, stepped through the same center opening as the choir used. He strode to the front of the stage, roaming from side to side and clapping in time to the music. Tall and broad shouldered, and with his dark hair slicked back, he reminded me a great deal of the revivalists from my childhood. As the hymn ended and the music died away, he stood precisely center stage, still smiling and leading the applause.

  “Brothers and sisters!” His deep voice had a slight Southern lilt and carried easily over the noise, his words so clear that it struck me as unnatural. People grew quiet, leaning forward in their seats to listen. He pointed at the crowd, picking out people in different parts of the hall. “I’m gratified to see so many people here tonight. While I see old friends, I see lots of new faces as well. Praise God, brothers and sisters, our campaign is working. The rightness of keeping our boys home where they belong is taking root in the hearts and minds of San Francisco. Effie’s message of peace is spreading! Praise God!”

  People clapped and cheered again. A low chant began in the back of the room, building until the sound was deafening. “Effie! Effie! Effie!”

  Dora’s narrowed eyes and focused expression told me the preacher had all her attention, but she gripped my hand tight enough my fingers ached. She clung to Randy as well, fighting not to be swept away on a tide of emotion. The rising power in the room battered at me. I couldn’t imagine how bruised Isadora felt.

  Movement at the back of the stage drew my attention from the preacher. Maximillian had moved forward, coming more into the light. Behind him, the hazy forms of dozens of ghosts took on more shape and substance, moving with him. All the spirits following the hunter were children.

  At the very front of the throng of sad-eyed young haunts stood the little girl spirit. She watched me intently. I’d no doubt that in the midst of the noise and the commotion, the cheers and shouts, she’d made sure I’d see her and pay attention.

  One by one, the small ghosts transformed to streams of silver gray mist that darted toward the little girl spirit. She absorbed each phantom child into herself, outwardly appearing unchanged.

  Bright blue eyes stared into mine, leaving behind a kind of truth that left me wanting to retch. All the child ghosts following Gabe home, gathered on street corners for me to see and watching outside the police station; Maximillian had marked all of them as prey, waiting his chance to take them unobserved. They’d all died at his hand.

  Dora’s words came back to me. Not all monsters confined their hunting to adults.

  I still didn’t know whether this innocent-looking little girl was a demon or a benevolent guardian, not for certain. Nor could I say what power brought this spirit into being, but now I knew her purpose. She hid the spirits of his victims from Maximillian and kept him from adding to Effie Fontaine’s power. Not all his victims had escaped or found shelter with her. Her hatred of Maximillian and what he’d done sat in her eyes. She knew, as I did, that their souls were lost forever.

  She looked tiny, frail, but she had the strength to resist all my efforts to banish her from my life. All ghosts were strong in the way they clung to the world of the living, refusing to move on until they’d fulfilled their purpose. Now that I knew her secret, I prayed she’d leave Gabe alone.

  Music swelled again and the preacher onstage stepped to one side, looking expectantly toward the opening in the curtains. Light glimmered behind the small ghost, a hole in the shadows filling the back of the stage. The little girl spirit faded into the summer day I’d glimpsed before, taking her charges with her. Fleeing before the looming darkness preceding Effie Fontaine swallowed them all.

  Miss Fontaine was smaller in stature than I’d imagined, compact and square shouldered under the scarlet robe billowing around her ankles. Dark curls framing her face were held back by a crown of flowers perching on top of her long, loose hair. She smiled and waved to the crowd, reminding me more of photos I’d seen of cinema stars greeting admirers outside the theater. People greeted her as such, getting to their feet and cheering wildly.

  The people screaming her name couldn’t see the darkness that rose around her, a murky twin taller and wider than the small woman standing on the edge of the stage. They’d have fled otherwise, or crawled under their seats to cower, heeding the animal instinct to avoid predators. I did see, but I couldn’t run.

  A sweet, rotten fruit smell filled the church hall, distracting me from Miss Fontaine’s looming doppelgänger. The aroma was inescapable in the overheated room and teetered on the edge of being nauseating.

  I didn’t have to search far for the source. Curls of pale smoke rose up from incense burners a group of men placed against the foot of the stage, along the walls, and on tables near the door. Their clothing was much too rough to be a part of Miss Fontaine’s inner circle. Day laborers no doubt, like the men Gabe told me about.

  Dora leaned close to speak in my ear, her nose crinkled in distaste and pain lines deep around her eyes. She was panting, worrying me even more. “I’ve seen enough, we’re leaving. I’m certain there’s something more to this stench than merely bad-smelling incense. I’d rather not tempt fate. We’ll make an exit as soon as she gets fully under way. Hopefully we can slip out without attracting too much attention. Try to hang on until then, Dee.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” The music had gotten louder again, making it impossible for her to hear unless I shouted in her ear. I squeezed her hand, hoping she’d understand.

  Randy gripped Dora’s other hand tight, but his attention was divided between hovering over her and keeping track of the people around us, watching everything at once the way Gabe and Jack did. He craned his neck, straining to see something at the other end of the room and sat back again, scowling. With Dora between us, I couldn’t ask what he’d seen.

  Effie Fontaine words echoed through the hall. The murmur of excited whispers, the sound of people shifting in their seats, and the small, random noises any group of people make faded away. All I heard was her voice.

  “Bless you, brothers and sisters. Bless you all!” She spread her arms wide, a gesture encompassing the entire audience. “You help us do God’s work when you spread the message of peace and bring others to hear me speak. Every new face I see tonight is a fresh chance to sway another heart, another soul to our side. I couldn’t do this without you. Bless you all!”

  The sight of Miss Fontaine smiling and the monstrous shadow mimicking her movements was horrible, trapping me in a waking nightmare. A second voice parroted her words if I shut my eyes to listen, and that was far, far worse. That other voice was deeper, larger, and held the ghost of a growl and the scrape of stone on stone.

  I’d only half believed when Dora spoke of demons and other evils that walked the world, thinking them products of another age, another time. She’d explained that such creatures always found willing vessels among humanity, people whose hunger for power blinded them, or those weak willed enough to believe the promises made without counting the cost. That anyone was willing to d
amn themselves that way was nearly impossible for me to grasp.

  But I couldn’t deny what I saw while watching Effie Fontaine, or ignore the tremors snaking up my spine. Every word Isadora had said was true.

  Cheers and applause punctuated Miss Fontaine’s speech as she outlined why God’s plan was for America to stay out of the European war. The power in the room rose higher with each shout, each chant of “Effie, Effie.” A few people in different sections of the church hall appeared to faint. Miss Fontaine’s men rushed to take them away, leading those overcome by the moment through side doors that likely led to choir rooms, or Sunday school classrooms. My stomach clenched, afraid these unfortunate people had been marked by Maximillian and knowing they might never emerge again.

  Dora’s eyes were closed tight, shutting out the sight of Fontaine looming over us and the rapt devotion on the faces all around. Neither Randy nor I had proved useful in cushioning the double blow of power and emotion pummeling her. If the decision to leave were mine, we’d have already gone, and I’d begun to regret promising to wait on Dora’s signal. The longer we sat in Fontaine’s shadow, the more I worried.

  Effie Fontaine’s voice grew louder, more passionate, and that growling undertone echoed behind each word. “The way to lasting peace is not through more war! War is not God’s plan. I beg you, brothers and sisters, don’t listen to the lies of those who claim war is the answer.” She pointed at people in the audience, seemingly at random. “If they come to you, cast them out! Cast them out!”

  I didn’t see Miss Fontaine so much as look in our direction, but Dora shuddered violently, her breathing ragged and strained. Her eyes flew open wide, full of panic. Randy looked at me and I saw he’d come to the same decision. We couldn’t wait. We had to get Dora away or risk losing her.

  One of the double doors into the foyer at the back opened for an elderly man and woman, and closed behind them again. No one made a fuss about them leaving, raising my hopes we wouldn’t be noticed in the confusion. And if Miss Fontaine’s people did try to make trouble, Gabe and Jack and the men from the squad were just outside. All we had to do was get to the front walkway.