by Rob Horner
And now two of us were about as far into the basement as possible, surrounded by sleeping, snoring, smelly forms. Tanya waved frantically, pointing at the form in front of her, recognizable to me as Barbara Fields even without the eyes of a daughter. She wanted me to heal her, purge her of the demon right then, and there was no other choice. I couldn't lift and carry her to safety first, at least not without a lot of effort and a good bit of noise, and Tanya's power wasn't able to pick up or move possessed people. And that's assuming she would stay asleep long enough to get her away. I wished for a way to do my thing without the flash of white light, which was not limited just to those looking through Crystal's special lens, but which would light up the basement like a strobe.
The sound of something heavy moving, or falling, echoed from above us, a deep boom felt as well as heard in the wide-open basement. It could be nothing more than one of those end tables falling over in the receiving room. It could be a body being dragged off a bed upstairs. We didn't know, because we hadn't looked.
Whatever it was, it caused an immediate cessation of the snoring, and filled me with dread. They were waking up, or were already awake, pretending to sleep. That feeling--there's no other word for it but a feeling you get when you know you've been caught; your hand's caught in the cash register; your wife walks by just as another woman grabs you; you can't get the blanket over your lap fast enough when your roommate walks into the living room...pick your analogy--that fear, that certainty that nothing can get you out of this, flooded through me.
Tanya felt it, too. She drew in a breath to scream, or to let out some blast of her power. And I did what you always do in that moment, when you can't go back and there's no other way out.
You move forward.
My hands came down on Barbara's face without any force, but with a push of my will. Light flashed, and in that brief illumination shadows leaped away, pushed to all four corners of the basement. Her eyes were open, then they were closed, and suddenly her body was moving, sliding across the floor. The room was filled with noises, the hair-raising sounds of joints popping, skin shredding, Tanya letting out her air not in a scream of fear, but in a shout of warning, "Don't hurt them!"
Tanya used her power to lift her mother's body, now that it was no longer possessed. But where could she move it and where could she go?
Then there was light, as Crystal, bless her, made her way to the curtained window and drew the heavy covering aside.
I had one second to appreciate the decor of the basement/family room/game room/Bridge room/demon dormitory. The couches were dark leather, matching the chairs. The entertainment center was a dark cherry wood with a rich luster. The television was a Mitsubishi brand, large and heavy looking. The pool table had to be regulation-sized, made of the same wood as the entertainment center and unimaginably heavy to move. As a side note, the carpet was beige, soft and thick and with a slight sheen which meant it was made by Stainmaster.
Crystal, backlit by the April sunlight coming through the window, went airborne, lifted almost to the ceiling by invisible hands and yanked toward us.
Then Tanya lashed out.
With her mother suspended in the air behind us and Crystal trying not to scream as she floated above us, Tanya used the power that wouldn't work on demons to make everything else work for her. Like a boulder dropped into a swimming pool, she sent energy rippling out away from us, causing a tidal wave of force which lifted and tossed couches end over end like they were weightless. Demons in various stages of transformation were caught in the motion, carried like flotsam after a wreck at sea, thrown back into the far wall near the door, then buried under a mounting pile of storm-tossed furnishings.
Even the pool table shifted a bit, though it was only on the edge of her ripple of power. Some part of me was thankful it wasn't tossed like everything else; it really was a thing of beauty.
The demon on top of it was just rising to her feet, an older lady in a red pantsuit and still human, when the table shifted. She fell forward, toppling off the soft green felt and onto the softer carpet. Three quick strides put me next to her. A quick movement of my hand and a flash of light restored her humanity.
More thumps came from upstairs, a tattoo of sound, feet running across hardwood.
"We've got to move!" I shouted.
"Um..." Crystal stammered.
"Oh, right. Sorry," Tanya said.
"Thanks."
I wasn't watching the by-play. My attention was riveted on the stairwell, waiting to see what came pounding down the stairs, hoping I'd be able to intercept and give the girls time to get away. "Use the basement door."
More sounds of furniture moving, sliding along the carpeted floor to the left and right, clearing a path to the door. Crystal uttered a small scream, drawing my attention to a demon trying to claw its way out from under a heavy couch. Fully transformed, it seemed able to position its arms and shoulders in such a way that, by slamming its claws into the carpet, it was able to pull itself by hitches and jerks, each repetition serving to free it a little more.
Conscious of Tanya's wish that I spare as many as possible--these were little old ladies after all--I raced around in front of them and drove a short snap-kick to the top of its head. Light flashed, and the body was squirted back under the furniture. Taking a quick glance, I saw pale skin, arms, necks, heads, legs in pantyhose and sensible shoes, all jumbled up together in the tumbled furniture.
Hoping it wasn't just delaying the inevitable, I reached in and around furniture arms and legs, touching what I could, releasing my healing light as fast as possible, curing half a dozen more while Tanya negotiated the door with her mother in tow.
A violent crash heralded the arrival of two more demons, as they came spilling out of the narrow staircase leading back up to the kitchen. With Crystal, Tanya, and Mrs. Fields out the door behind me, I stepped backward, gaining the hillside, feeling the sun wash over me. The demons wasted no time, charging forward.
One crashed through the door, while the second dove through the window, exploding out beside me, effectively cutting off my path to the driveway. Thankfully, Crystal and Tanya were already out of the way when it landed, beyond the fence and trying to negotiate Mrs. Fields' unconscious form into the car.
These weren't just people transformed, demons in human clothing. No, they were full-frontal with their demon nudity, not a stitch of covering, rearing up and raising their arms to the sky. They were supposedly older women, but that didn't translate to their ugly side. No breasts, no difference in hip width, no long hair, just those weird shoulder and elbow configurations, and those fingers and toes with extra joints. They didn't have spines on their heads, and their noses were narrower, less pig-snout-ish. Maybe that means something.
Now, I don't know about you, but at some point, even a normally gallant guy like me starts to think of saving his own skin. It wasn't safe to think of them as old ladies. A hesitation of a second could mean the difference between my life or death. I could banish demons with skin to skin contact and a thought, without having to strike them. But was it possible to strike their skin without banishing them?
The one on my left, window crasher, acted first, swiping a long right arm at me. The one in front, who'd come through the door like a well-mannered and properly raised demon, pivoted to my right. I had an instant to recognize and react.
The second demon was anticipating a dodge to the right!
Checking my motion, for I was intending to jump that way, I dropped low into a squat, feeling the air disturbed by the strong arm passing above me. The door-demon, caught by surprise, did a quick position change back to center, just in time to catch its partners clawed hand in the chest.
Exploding out from my crouch, I lunged forward at the window demon, thinking...
...don't banish, don't banish, don't banish...
...as my hands punched out. Light flashed, there was a crash, and then I was down on my back, one big, stinking, ugly, heavy demon on top of me. My head spun an
d for a second, I couldn't figure out what happened. For the next two seconds, I was so full of panic and fear that I lashed out and up, my power more than enough to topple the unconscious demon off me.
And of course it was unconscious. As old Doc Brown used to say, I wasn't thinking fourth-dimensionally.
When my lunging strike hit the demon so close to the wall, it flew back, struck the wall, then rebounded forward. The distance was just so small that there was no time to really process what had happened, much less react to it. And then, of course, there was the panic.
There was a naked, nasty demon lying on top of me!
A naked demon who was slowly transforming back into a naked woman who was old enough to be my...never mind.
Anyway, old lady, no clothes, on top of me, had to get away. Hopefully I can be excused for that.
I rolled to my left just as the door demon, recovered from the strike to the chest, came back in. She stomped a bony foot ending in long, sharp claws, trying to either slice me or crush me. Thankfully she missed. Not giving myself a chance to think, I slapped my right hand down on top of her foot, then rolled again as light flashed, bones snapped, and the demon issued a howl of agony. Coming back to my feet a yard away, I expected the thing to still be after me.
But it hadn't moved. It couldn't. In addition to probably breaking a few bones, my strike had driven the thing's foot into the soft earth, sinking it in to the knee. With don't banish still playing in the background of my mind, that part of my power didn't activate.
"Johnny, come on!" Tanya shouted.
The demon grabbed at its leg, long-fingered hands wrapped under the right knee, trying to pull it out. It mewled continuously, piteously, like a lost kitten... A kitten with long claws and very sharp teeth. And huge, don't forget huge.
Turning, I pulled my best Miami Vice and vaulted the low chain link fence that separated the front yard from this side patch and sprinted for the Pontiac. As soon as I got into the back seat, Tanya sped away.
The sudden motion jarred Mrs. Fields from her position propped up against the passenger door. She flinched, started awake, and muttered, "The Palooka brought them," before slumping back against the seat, unconscious again.
Chapter 24
Church conversions
We were young and naive, invincible, full of powers we didn't understand and a burning fury to use those powers to right an injustice. Our mission was to set free those imprisoned within their own bodies, whose wills were stolen, faces being worn like masks to lure others to a similar fate. We didn't understand the full extent of what we faced. We couldn't see the grand picture, so caught up were we in our own little dramas.
We chafed at the slowness of time as Wednesday afternoon crawled by. We couldn’t wait for the next day to come, eager to gird our loins, don metaphorical superhero capes, and take the fight to the enemy. That it wasn't just happening in Virginia, not just happening to us, never crossed our minds in anything more than an ephemeral fashion. Oh look, that's interesting...now, where were we?
We couldn't wake Mrs. Fields, not for several hours, and the worry for her overrode our easy friendship. Every car engine, stray headlight, strange noise from outside, whether it was a bird chirping in a tree, or the sounds of teenagers getting off a school bus, sent one of us racing to the curtains. We were certain this was it, they'd followed us, found us somehow, and the fight had been brought to us, rather than us taking it to them.
As evening approached, time stretched out. Logic--and a glance at the clock--said we'd only been back at Tanya's house for three hours, but emotion and stress screamed that it must be days. What would we do if she didn't wake up? How would we take care of her? Should we take her to a hospital?
Though Tanya wanted to stay upstairs at her mother's bedside, she eventually joined us in the kitchen, where we began putting together a dinner of sorts, planning to have it at the kitchen table. Nothing makes a bunch of teenagers responsible like having an adult in the house. While Tanya cooked, Crystal and I made a tour through the living room, placing cushions in their proper places on the couch, straightening the area rug under the coffee table, even making sure the figurines on the mantel were lined up. It was the kind of work that truly accomplishes nothing other than to keep the hands busy, preventing us from sitting and fretting about the time, giving us something to think of besides the sleeping woman upstairs, or the demons at the Bridge party.
My heart ached for Tanya, who'd already lost one parent, and who was now worried about the other. Even as my hands moved this knick-knack or plumped that couch cushion, my eyes strayed from the work, glancing back into the kitchen at her tall form. Her brown hair swayed at the shoulders as she moved, giving glimpses of her slender neck and shoulders. Those shoulders were rounded, her head bowed. Would she welcome an embrace, if I walked up behind her? Or would it be taken as an admission of defeat, a surrender to her fear for her mother?
Both my parents died suddenly, taking me from a life of comfort and security to one of uncertainty, feeling like an outsider, a parasite attaching itself to the shell of another family, trying to leech some warmth from their relationship. In a bid to establish some control over my life, I thought about and schemed and planned to try influencing where I lived, but common sense won out. I doubt that Mrs. Fields would have allowed me to stay with them, and by not asking I spared myself the embarrassment of being rejected.
But what if I'd won? What if that wonderful woman had welcomed me into her home, accepting responsibility for me? Wouldn't I still be a parasite, still clinging to someone else's family, desperate to replace the one I lost?
Is that how all orphans feel? Or was it just me?
What might have changed between Tanya and me? Would we have gotten closer sooner? Would it be this strong? Or would it have morphed into more of a brother-sister relationship?
I wanted to hold her, to offer comfort, but in that desire was also the desire for her. It seemed wrong, somehow, like I shouldn't put my arms around her until I could honestly say I was doing it for the right reasons and not as an excuse to have my hands on her.
We've already established that I didn't know much about women.
As the kitchen table was being set, Crystal nudged me. She'd taken the shift from love interest to match-maker without any drama, which went against everything I'd ever been taught. But again, see the above comment about my knowledge of the feminine mind.
"Go to her. It's all right," she said in a whisper before loudly announcing she was going to wash up for dinner.
Bemused. That's how I felt.
I was about to take advice from the girl I kissed two days before on how to act with the girl I kissed that morning. And they were both okay with it. They'd talked about it! They'd come to this arrangement.
But I was the one confused and feeling guilty.
Please allow me a moment to change the tense of my earlier statements about women.
I still don't understand them.
Coming into the kitchen, the air redolent with the smells of dinner, I took a moment to appreciate this girl, this family, and, as crazy as it was, this demonic-super-power-infused situation that allowed me to be with them.
Instead of using her powers, Tanya bent down to retrieve a cookie sheet from the oven, piled high on one end with sliced ham, while dinner rolls heated on the other. Setting the cookie sheet on a ceramic pad, so the hot metal wouldn't harm the countertop, Tanya stirred a pot of something on the electric range top.
She must have sensed my presence, or felt my eyes drinking in the sight of her, beautiful whether she was giving me that half-crazy I-Dare-You smile or tending a bubbling pot on the stove, because she moved the pot off the burner, turned to me, took a step, and collapsed against me.
My arms went around her and I held her, just held her, while she cried into my neck, unintelligible words of fear for her mother, fear for us. I held her while she mumbled about how much food she made, how she'd set four places at the table just in case.
>
I said it was all right. I told her it would be okay.
When it's the right time to hold someone, you just do it.
We shifted sideways to one of the kitchen chairs, and she let me pull her into a perch on my thighs, her head still nestled against mine. None of the things I worried about earlier mattered. She needed me, and I was there for her.
The scent of her hair was a distraction cast aside by the desire to comfort; the feel of her a temptation resisted in the name of something greater.
Time stood still.
At some point, her sobbing quieted, then ceased, but she didn't try to get up. After another moment, she was no longer lying against my neck, but was kissing it, her breath hot against my skin, her mouth moving along my jawline.
"Hey!" Crystal called from the stairway. "I think she's waking up!"
"To be continued," Tanya said quickly, jumping off my lap and racing for the stairs.
We hadn't told Mrs. Fields about our powers before, letting her believe that only Tanya had been gifted. Our reasons were sound at the time. The less she knew, the safer she'd be.
"The Palooka brought the statues," she said around a mouthful of ham.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Fields," Crystal said, "but what's a Palooka?"
"A weak Bridge player," Tanya answered, earning herself a pat on the hand from her mother. "Someone you can beat easily."
"Lord, but they were ugly. Short things made of rock, or hard-baked clay. Looked a bit like those gremlins we saw in that movie, remember those, Tanya? Except these were brown, of course, not green."
"But why?" Crystal asked softly, interrupting Mrs. Fields.
"Why what? Why were they brown?"
"No. I mean...it just doesn't make any sense, is all."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Why would they bring the de...statues to your Ladies' Night?" Crystal said, finishing hurriedly after almost saying demon.