Infernal Affairs

by Jane Heller

He nodded again.

  I couldn’t believe it. The Bellseys were darksiders and I didn’t know it? I wondered how many other people in town were agents of the devil, how many tails were being stuffed into Calvin Klein briefs.

  “Many others,” said Frances/Satan, reading my mind. “You’d be surprised.”

  “Is Mitchell a darksider?” I asked. We hadn’t had sex in the last six months we were together. The jerk could have sprouted two tails and I wouldn’t have noticed.

  Frances/Satan winced, as if he’d just caught a whiff of his own foul odor, then shook his head vehemently.

  “Your husband is not a darksider,” he said. “Even I have my standards.”

  Normally, I would have laughed at any put-down of Mitchell, but not this time. Not when the devil was threatening to turn Jeremy into a darksider and then force us to produce devil babies.

  Where the hell was Pete? I wondered as I stood between the force of darkness and the man I loved, desperate to stop the inevitable from happening. Why hasn’t the dog charged in here and mauled our intruder? Why hasn’t he rushed to our rescue?

  “Now, may I come inside?” said Frances/Satan. “I don’t think you want Mr. Cook’s transformation to occur in front of your neighbors, do you?”

  He barreled right past us, Frances’s girth no match for our flimsy barricade, and waddled into the living room. Then he wheeled around, looked angrily at Jeremy, and pointed Frances’s fat, stubby finger at him.

  I closed my eyes, held my breath and braced myself—for a bolt of lightning, a silvery face in the sky, some indication that my Jeremy, the love I’d finally found, had been turned into the same sort of creature I was.

  Please, God, I prayed silently, tears streaming down my face. Please don’t let this happen. Please grant us a miracle.

  I heard something then—a movement, a pitter-patter of feet, a swish of a tail.

  A tail! Oh, no! The devil had done it! He had turned Jeremy into a darksider!

  I didn’t want to open my eyes, didn’t want to see what Jeremy had become, didn’t want to see the result of the transformation. But then I heard a bark.

  A bark?

  I opened my eyes and saw that Jeremy was still Jeremy—and that Pete had come bounding into the room just in the nick of time!

  But the dog didn’t jump up on the devil and maul him. He didn’t even growl at him. Instead, he stopped a few feet away from him, stopped dead in his tracks in fact, and stared him down. Just stared him down!

  And Frances/Satan stared right back at Pete. Their eyes remained locked on each other, glowering, daring, threatening, like a pair of gunfighters about to do battle.

  Jeremy took hold of my hand and then walked me ever so slowly and silently away from them, toward the corner of the living room, where we could watch the strange interaction from a distance. We had no idea that what would happen next would contradict everything we’d ever been taught about Good and Evil; no idea that when I had asked God for a miracle, He would deliver one—in person.

  Chapter 28

  Pete was the first one to break the stare and he did it by turning to Jeremy and me and barking. Just once. And then, right before our eyes, right there in my brother’s most ordinary of living rooms, the most extraordinary thing took place. Pete’s body, which had been turning whiter and whiter in the past several days, suddenly went completely white! I mean, the dog, in a single instant, became an albino! And just when we were trying to get over the shock of that, Pete not only changed color, he changed shape and texture and substance and was no longer a dog at all! In fact, he no longer had any shape, but was, instead, a totally amorphous being. Yes, while Jeremy and I huddled together in our little corner, as awed and terrified as two people could be, he actually metamorphosed into a huge, white, formless entity—sort of a cross between a big, puffy cloud and an enormous mass of spilled milk! And then, guess what: the white blob began to speak! Speak! Even though it had no mouth!

  “Come out of there, Satan. It’s time for us to have a little chat,” said the white thing in a voice that was part Walter Cronkite, part Paul Harvey.

  Our heads turned to look at Frances/Satan, who, in response to the white thing, suddenly underwent a transformation of his own. As we looked on in utter amazement, the red caftan billowed up, as if blown by a strong gust of wind, and grew and spread and expanded until it literally enveloped Frances’s body and she disappeared altogether. In her place was a giant red blob, an entity just as shapeless and formless as the white one—except that it had a tail!

  “All right, I’m out of her body. Satisfied?” said the red thing to the white thing. “Just don’t think I jump every time you say so, Mr. G.”

  “Let’s not bicker,” said the white entity.

  “Give me a break,” said the red-tailed blob. “Bickering is what you and I do. Throughout eternity. We’re like a couple of old, punch-drunk prize fighters.”

  “I thought golf was your sport,” said the white thing.

  “Not anymore. My handicap is way up there and I don’t have a clue what to do about it.”

  “Are you dipping your left shoulder under your chin on your backswing?” asked the white thing.

  “No.”

  “Then try it,” said Mr. G. “I shot an eighty the last time I played.”

  “There you go again. Always lording it over me how much better you are. It makes me sick,” said Satan.

  “And you have been sick lately, haven’t you, old man?” said Mr. G. “You’ve been feeling sluggish, weak, much less powerful. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yeah, thanks to those troublemakers.” The red blob didn’t have hands, so he couldn’t point to us, but we knew who he meant. “They started poking in places where they didn’t belong, reading the Bible at me, throwing dead chickens at my feet, making everybody in this town band together against me. If it weren’t for them, I probably could have lasted another five years here. Maybe even ten. Who knows?”

  “I know. The people of Banyan Beach wouldn’t have put up with you for much longer. With or without my help, they would have sent you away. Because love wins. Goodness wins. Always. Always.”

  “All right already. Enough with the sermon,” Satan snapped. “It was the concert this afternoon that really put a hurt on me. All those people clapping and singing and hugging their neighbors. Having to listen to that sappy Carole King song was almost as bad as having to listen to you.”

  “Then you know why I’m here, don’t you, Satan?”

  “Sure, sure. You’re here to tell me my time is up. But I’m not ready to leave Banyan Beach. Not just yet.”

  “Now, now, Satan. You know the rules. I’m casting you out of Banyan Beach. Now. Tonight.”

  “I had big plans for tonight. A couple of murders, a bank robbery, a carjacking.”

  “It’s over,” said the white entity. “All you’ve got to do is admit defeat.”

  Satan remained silent, his red tail still.

  “I’m waiting,” said Mr. G.

  “Fine. So I admit defeat. Tomorrow’s another day and we’ll start this little rivalry of ours all over again somewhere else.”

  “Exactly. But first: you must release those whose bodies you took over. Including poor Ms. Lutz.”

  The red blob snorted. “Sure, sure. I know the drill. Barbara, let’s get this show over with. I want to blow this Popsicle stand.”

  I looked at Jeremy and gulped.

  “Go on, BS. This is what we’ve been waitin’ for,” he urged, the color coming back into his cheeks. “Satan’s finally gonna let you out of the deal. You’ll be your old self again. Say good-bye to the hair and the boobs.”

  I nodded and started to walk toward the red entity, then hesitated.

  “You sure you’ll still want me?” I asked Jeremy. “It wasn’t just because—”

  “Go,” he said. “Before we wake up and find out this was all a dream.”

  I nodded again and walked toward the devil. I wasn’t afraid, oddly enough.
Not with the white entity so close by.

  “Ready, Barbara?” said Satan as I stood before him, my long blond hair shimmering in the moonlight, my perfect figure the stuff of exercise videos.

  “Yes, I’m ready,” I said without a trace of regret.

  According to Jeremy, who told me this later, Satan struck me with a bolt of lightning. I was enveloped by a cloud of red smoke, just as David Bettinger was on the day of the River Princess party, and when the smoke cleared, I was Barbara Chessner again—frizzy hair, flat chest, and all.

  “Is it really me?” I cried, running my hands along my body, feeling for my old lumps and bumps and flaws, ecstatic when I found them.

  Jeremy ran toward me, hugging me so tightly I thought I’d break in two.

  “It’s really you, BS,” he said adoringly. “Just like before.”

  “I’ve got to see for myself.” I ran to get my purse, which I’d left on the table by the front door, and reached inside for my compact. I pulled it out, flipped open the cover, and studied my reflection in the mirror.

  It was the old me, all right. The gray hair, the double chin, the potbelly. But I wasn’t grossed out by my appearance, not anymore. Sure, I could stand to lose a few pounds. So I’d join a gym, big deal. The main thing was that it was my body again. I had reclaimed it. I could do whatever I wanted with it. Of course, I didn’t have a clue how I would explain my latest transformation to Ben and Suzanne and the people I worked with. I supposed I would just say that I fell off the wagon and scarfed down an entire case of Pringles potato chips in one night.

  The image suddenly made me think of Frances.

  “Hey, you promised to restore her too,” I reminded Satan, no longer afraid to speak my mind. To my delight, I had not reverted to my old self when it came to my personality. I had the old looks, yes, but not the old fear of offending people. Had Satan forgotten to void that part of the deal? Did the white entity have something to do with it? Or was it simply that I had learned a new way of being and incorporated it into my life? I like to think so.

  “Frances is a done deal,” Satan said.

  “Oh, you and your deals,” I said disgustedly.

  “No, really,” he said. “She’s at home as we speak, tucked under the covers, fast asleep. When she wakes up in the morning, she won’t remember any of this.”

  “None of it?” Jeremy asked.

  “That’s what I said, sport. Now, anything else before I split?”

  “Yeah,” said Jeremy. “You can make my father well.”

  “Oh, that. Fine. Presto. He’s well. The doctors will congratulate themselves and think they’re geniuses because he was on his deathbed one day and cured the next, and then they’ll send him home. And speaking of home, I’ve got to find a new one. Any ideas, anybody?”

  The white entity spoke up. “Your choice, Satan. Wherever you go, I’ll go.”

  “Don’t I know it. Always hovering, like a nervous wife. Well, I guess that’s it, folks. Don’t say it hasn’t been fun.”

  With that, the red entity was struck by an electrifying lightning bolt of his own, then reduced to a cloud of red smoke. When it cleared several seconds later, only the caftan remained, now just a heap of cloth on the floor of Ben’s living room.

  “My God, it’s over,” I said as I stared at the red material. “He’s really gone.”

  “For now,” said the white entity.

  “You mean, he could come back to Banyan Beach?” Jeremy asked.

  “Why don’t we sit and discuss this quietly, just the three of us,” said Mr. G.

  “I wouldn’t think you’d be able to sit,” I observed. “Given your rather unconventional body type.”

  He laughed. “I can do whatever I need to do.”

  As proof, the white blob drifted over to Ben’s beat-up old couch, like a soap bubble floating through the air, and molded Himself perfectly into a sitting position.

  “Why don’t you two sit on either side of me,” He suggested. “I’d like that.”

  Jeremy and I looked at each other and shrugged. At this point, nothing fazed us. We sat next to the entity, who, when we got close to Him, radiated a sort of cozy warmth.

  “You must have questions,” He said, His voice kindly, fatherly. “Lots of questions.”

  “Well, yes,” I said. “Satan referred to you as ‘Mr. G.’ I assume that means you’re—”

  “It means that you can refer to me as anything that gives you comfort,” He said. “‘God’ is a little intimidating to some people. So if you prefer ‘The Higher Power’ or ‘The Man Upstairs’ or something of that nature, it’s fine with me.”

  “So you really are Him?” I said, full of awe.

  “He,” He corrected my grammar. “I really am He.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “But maybe you could explain how you used to be a dog. My dog.”

  “I’d be glad to, Barbara. You see, I follow Satan everywhere he goes, to keep an eye on him, to keep his evil power in check. He and I are like two old warhorses, battling over this, arguing over that, wrestling over the collective soul of mankind. He settled in Banyan Beach. I settled in Banyan Beach. But when I come to a new town, I can’t very well show up on people’s doorsteps, looking as I do now. So I take a different form each time, much as Satan does. This time I chose to be a dog, a black Lab named Pete. He was named for Saint Peter, one of my closest associates. He was a rather nice dog, too, if I say so myself.”

  “Was?” I said, feeling tears prick at my eyes. “Pete’s gone? For good? I’ll never see him again?”

  “I’m afraid not, Barbara,” said God. “Remember, he wasn’t a dog. Not really.”

  “Not a dog?” I said, not wanting to show any disrespect yet intent on sticking up for my Pete. “Of course he was a dog. He was my dog, the only dog I ever had. He was real to me and I want him back. Please, your Lordship. Sir. If you don’t mind.”

  “I can’t bring him back, Barbara. He was just my temporary cover. I arrived on your doorstep in the guise of a dog the morning after your transformation so that I could protect you from the devil, to help you help yourself.”

  “Helpin’ her? You’re talkin’ about those clues you gave us?” Jeremy asked.

  “Exactly,” said God. “I was doing what I came here to do, which was to foil Satan.”

  “But if you had the power to foil him, why did you wait so long to use it?” Jeremy demanded. “Why did you sit back and let Satan destroy Banyan Beach, ruin lives, demolish houses, commit murder? Why didn’t you confront him sooner? Why did you wait until tonight to cast him out?”

  “I will not save a town or its people until they prove that they are worthy of being saved,” God explained. “The people of Banyan Beach weren’t very worthy when I first arrived here. They had invited Satan into their town without knowing it. He felt there was a market for his kind of evil here. All he did was seize on it and enable it to grow.”

  “Then what changed?” Jeremy asked. “What made you intervene?”

  “First, it was Barbara,” He said. “She could have knuckled under to the devil, but she fought back. She decided to save her soul and her town. That’s when I—Pete—started to help her. And then you entered the picture, Jeremy. You and your big love for Barbara and for Banyan Beach. The two of you went up against Satan and deflated him.”

  “Not enough. He came back at us with a major hurricane,” Jeremy pointed out.

  “That was Satan’s last gasp,” said God. “When you organized that concert this afternoon and got the town to pull together in a spirit of love and goodwill, you defeated the devil. I only came along and mopped up.”

  “And now you’re finished here, aren’t you,” I said.

  “Yes, right away,” said God, who drifted up out of the couch and hung in the air in front of us, a huge white cotton ball.

  “Please, don’t go,” I said, suddenly overwhelmed by unbearable sadness, by the realization that if God was leaving, there was no chance that I’d ever get Pete back, m
y sweet, sweet dog, who was there when I came home at night, there when I woke up in the morning, there whenever I needed comfort. I couldn’t imagine my life without him. I didn’t want to.

  I buried my head in Jeremy’s lap and began to sob, heaving, uncontrollable sobs. I missed Pete already.

  “He knew he was leaving,” I cried. “That’s why he was throwing his things away. He knew he was never coming back. And the worst of it is, I didn’t even get to say good-bye.”

  That brought more tears. I was crying so hard I had trouble breathing. When Pete had first shown up at my door, I couldn’t wait to dump him. Oh, how I wished I had him back. I’d never let him go, never give him up.

  “Pete will always be with you, Barbara,” said God, trying to console me. “In spirit. Whenever you need him. Look.”

  I looked at the floor in front of the couch where we were sitting, and there, suddenly, was Pete’s leather collar! I reached down to pick it up and held it close to my face.

  “He’ll always be with you,” God repeated. “In your heart.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered, emotion choking me. “Thank you for this. For everything.”

  Jeremy turned to God. “There’s just more one thing,” he said.

  “What’s that?” God asked.

  “You said Satan left town. For now. Does that mean he might come back? That this whole nightmare could start all over again? That Barbara could become a darksider a second time?”

  “It’s possible,” said God, “but if he were to revisit Banyan Beach, you’d have all the tools to cast him out,” God explained. “You’ve had them all along, both of you. You’ve had love all along. You just didn’t know it.”

  Jeremy and I looked at each other and smiled.

  “Now,” said God, “it really is time for me to say good-bye. Take good care of yourselves. Take good care of Banyan Beach.”

  I was about to say, “Thanks,” but I was too late. All I did was blink and when I opened my eyes, the white entity was gone.

  Jeremy and I sat there on that couch for what must have been two or three hours. Neither of us said a word. We were still in shock, I guess, still letting the events of the evening sink in, letting our feelings take hold. After all, it’s not every day that you get to watch God and Satan debate. It’s a lot more life-altering than, say, watching Geraldine Ferraro and John Sununu go at it on “Crossfire.”