Sheep in an apron.
Although Agnes didn’t know Celeste or Mary very well, she couldn’t help comparing the two. If this afternoon was any indication, she wasn’t sure Celeste could handle it if things got rougher than they had today. It didn’t happen often, but some investigations spiraled out of control. They didn’t need another scenario like the one a few months earlier. One that had led to the loss of Catherine and necessitated Celeste joining them. Agnes and Nora needed the assurance that their backs were covered if the shit hit the fan.
“What’cha thinking about?” Nora asked with a crooked grin. Her glass was almost empty.
Agnes approached the table, set her glass down, and leaned into Nora. Their lips touched. Nora’s arms circled Agnes’ waist.
“Don’tcha know,” she whispered into Nora’s ear, “I’m always thinking of you?”
Nora leaned back, closed one eye and cocked her head. “Don’t go bullshitting me, dear. You were thinking about what happened this afternoon. But, hey, let’s wait until Celeste arrives before we get into it.” Nora broke contact and refilled both drinks. She handed Agnes the glass. “If she’s on time, she’ll be here in five minutes. I’m going to pick up a bit.”
As both women tidied up, the phone rang. Agnes walked to the landline carrying a few magazines. She fanned them atop an end table and answered the phone on the fourth ring.
There was a knock on the door. Nora looked into the peephole.
“Celeste,” she whispered.
Agnes covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “Father MacLeod.”
She spoke with the priest as she watched Nora let Celeste into the condo. Nora placed a closed fist near her ear and mouthed, “Father MacLeod,” and Celeste nodded her understanding. They both sat on the couch, Nora with her glass, Celeste with her hands folded on her lap. The priest asked her to hold on for a moment as he had another call, so she turned her attention to the interplay between Celeste and Nora.
Celeste was making small talk and checking out the room when she noticed a cribbage board on the shelf under the table. “Oh,” she remarked, “You guys play cribbage. I love the game. Hopefully you’ll let me get a crack at it with you.”
Nora’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, the loser has to buy the winner an ice cream cone. I think Agnes must owe me hundreds of chocolate cones by now.”
Celeste chuckled. “Wow, sounds like you’re really good at it. Maybe you should be playing poker instead.”
Nora’s expression tightened. Glaring at Celeste, she retorted, “No. We don’t play poker, and we never will.” After a pause, her face softened. “Playing for ice cream is one thing. It’s a fun way to pass the time. Poker is gambling, serious gambling. It can have consequences, and I will never be put in that position.”
Taken aback, Celeste joked, “Well, I haven’t played poker all that much, never cared for it. I guess that makes us two of a kind. Get it? Two of a kind?”
Nora sighed.
Celeste hit a nerve with Nora. Agnes had hit the same nerve in the past, but Nora’s response had not been as restrained. Attempts to get Nora to talk about it had always failed. Agnes never pushed it, knowing that when the time was right, Nora would unburden herself.
The two women resumed their conversation, mostly talking about the décor of the room and how comfortable and homey it was. After Celeste declined Nora’s offer of a drink, Agnes turned her back to the two women, but she could feel their eyes on her, waiting for her to rejoin them.
Father MacLeod returned to the call and asked how the Millman investigation had gone.
Agnes gave the priest a quick rundown of the meeting and promised him a report the next day. To her surprise, Father MacLeod told her not to bother to turn it in until the weekend. He had something more pressing for the team to address. She listened for ten more minutes. She didn’t ask questions, instead took notes on the pad by the phone before finishing with, “See you tomorrow.” She put the phone down, gazed up and noticed both Nora and Celeste staring at her; she’d forgotten they were there.
Agnes sat on a rocking chair at the opposite side of the coffee table from them. “I know we should discuss what happened this afternoon, but first, I need to tell you we’ve been assigned another investigation.”
Nora’s eyes widened. “So soon?”
Celeste spoke up. “Is this unusual?”
Agnes answered both questions with one word. “Yes.”
Nora frowned. “When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
Nora sipped her drink. Celeste leaned forward.
Contrary to what she had read on the Internet, empaths could not read each other’s emotions. While she had learned that people could learn to block her kind out, empaths, she discovered, had a natural ability to do so. She thought of it as a self-defense mechanism. The first time she had felt someone attempting to scan her, she reacted without thought, throwing up a mental shield against the intrusion. The action had been reflective and there was no way around it. She tried to scan Nora and Catherine several times and was never successful.
Although she could not probe either of the two women in her living room, Agnes had no problem deciphering the feelings of one of them. Nora was troubled, wary of tackling another situation so soon.
Celeste was another matter. She sat at attention, her gaze steady on Agnes. Though she was sure Celeste’s fascination with the job would ebb quickly, she was impressed with her demeanor. The young woman wasn’t taken aback by the new investigation. If anything, she seemed enthusiastic. Her eyes were soft but focused. She’s curious. She wants to know more. What occurred at the Millmans’ today might have frightened off any other new member of their team, but Celeste wasn’t exhibiting any signs of fear. At least not at the present.
Agnes addressed both women. “Father MacLeod wants us to meet in Goffstown. It’s in New Hampshire, right outside Manchester.” She turned to Celeste. “I’ll write the address down for you. You have GPS or a computer to get the directions?”
“Yes. I have both.”
Agnes nodded. “Good. We’re to meet him at 10:00 a.m. at the address, and—”
Nora interrupted. “Wait. We’re meeting him at the site?”
“I know.” Agnes’ gaze shifted to Celeste. “In all the years we’ve been doing this, Father MacLeod has attended only two of our investigations. This one is rather involved, from what I gather.”
Nora’s hand shook as she gulped the contents of her glass. She poured herself another. Agnes frowned but refrained from commenting.
“We’re to meet at a house. This home apparently has a name: it’s called the Moore house. There have been several unexplained deaths at the site, all gruesome. He’s sure the house is locked tight, so we’re to do our sensing outdoors. If we pick up a demonic presence, we are to tell him and leave immediately. If that happens, we can all meet here afterward and discuss what we felt.”
The atmosphere in the room became oppressive. The women were silent, frowning, their shoulders sunk. Nora and Celeste’s eyes were dull and staring at a point somewhere beyond Agnes. She could guess where Nora’s thoughts were, but she was clueless as to where Celeste’s mind had retreated.
Her own thoughts went to their former team member, Catherine White. Visions filled Agnes’ head: Catherine, strapped in her bed, thrashing and tormenting those who attempted to help her. She had been possessed, and the Church had done everything in its power to exorcise the demon.
Celeste broke the silence. “How many times have you come across an actual demon?”
The two older women locked eyes.
“Twice,” Nora answered. “The first was four years ago. It involved a young boy. We picked up on it right away. The whole meeting couldn’t have lasted more than fifteen minutes. Father MacLeod was with us on that investigation. He ushered us out of the family’s home and took over. Though our involvement in the investigation phase was finished, Father MacLeod later informed us that the Church was successful in performing an exor
cism on the boy.”
Nora’s voice lowered, and she spoke slower. “The second time was more than three months ago. That investigation wasn’t so clear-cut when we arrived. The demon was smart. Both Agnes and I had a bad feeling before we even stepped onto the property, so we approached with caution. The other member of our team wasn’t so inclined. She let her emotions get the best of her and the demon found its way in.” Nora shook her head as if dislodging an image.
Celeste frowned. “What do you mean?”
Agnes caught Nora’s discomfort, so she answered. “Much like this afternoon, a family reported odd occurrences to their local church. After the report went through the proper channels, Father MacLeod called us in. He was with us on that investigation, too.
“While we were uneasy, we hadn’t picked up even a hint of a supernatural presence once we were inside the house. The subject was a teenage girl. We stayed in her bedroom for over an hour, talking with the girl and her parents. She was polite and answered all our questions, but her concentration seemed off as if she was hiding something from us. After our chat, the team met in another room to review the situation. While Nora and I couldn’t detect a presence, Catherine said she had, but claimed she was unfamiliar with the sensation. Father MacLeod questioned her, and she admitted she couldn’t tell if it was supernatural or not. He decided to wrap up the investigation with no determination made. While we were finishing, though, Catherine slipped back into the girl’s bedroom. None of us noticed.”
Celeste’s eyes widened. “She went back there by herself?”
Agnes nodded. “Catherine violated two of the most important rules of an investigation—don’t become emotionally involved with a subject, and never go it alone. We believe she took pity on the young girl and tried to discover what her issues might be. The demon had been in the girl all along. As mentioned, it was smart. Biding its time, it exited its young subject and possessed Catherine.”
Celeste stiffened. “And what of Catherine?”
“She’s being held in the same building as Father MacLeod’s office. They have an area for this purpose, though we’ve never seen it. Members of the Vatican are with her, and they’re working on exorcising the demon.”
“Wait. You mean she’s still possessed? After three months?”
Agnes sighed. “Yes. Some demons are stronger than others.”
Celeste’s hands came together, her fingers interlocking. She bowed her head to her hands. Closing her eyes, she mumbled a prayer. Agnes and Nora said nothing.
“Catherine screwed up,” Agnes continued. “It didn’t have to happen. If you’re scared, Celeste, we understand, but you must also remember, we’re doing God’s work.”
Celeste dropped her hands and lifted her chin. She stared at Agnes first, then Nora. Finally, she replied, “I’m fine.”
Agnes smiled. “Since our plans for this evening have changed, we’ll meet later in the weekend and write up the report on today’s event—or should I say two reports, as we’ll also have tomorrow’s investigation to file. Why don’t you head home, Celeste, get a good night’s sleep, and we’ll meet you in Goffstown tomorrow morning at ten.”
All three women stood. Agnes jotted down the address of the Moore house and handed it to Celeste.
“Thank you,” the young woman replied. “Okay, I guess I’ll see you in the morning. Nora, can I give you a lift home?”
Nora squinted for a second, then opened her eyes wide and brightened. “No thanks, dear. I live in this condominium project.”
Celeste’s gaze went back and forth between her and Nora. She shrugged and stepped toward the entrance to the condo. Halfway out the door, she hesitated. “Have you thought how odd it is that out of all your investigations, Father MacLeod happened to be present at the only two where a possession took place?”
The reply came from Agnes. “Yes, dear, we have.”
“Does it worry you that he’ll be at tomorrow’s investigation?”
It was Nora’s turn to reply. “Yes, dear, it does.”
CHAPTER 4
Celeste woke three hours before her alarm was set to ring. Vignettes of her meeting with Agnes and Nora had kept her tossing and turning. When she did manage to nod off, snatches of their conversations intruded into her dreams. She hoped a quick shower, and then a cup of coffee on the road would make her good to go for the meeting in Goffstown.
She was out of the apartment in twenty minutes.
Coffee from a local doughnut shop in hand, she plugged in her GPS, set the address, and hit the road. The radio stayed off. She wanted quiet time to sort her thoughts out before she arrived at the Moore house.
The official reason for her leaving the Church was her empathic abilities. She’d been told the same held true for her team. In Celeste’s case, her expulsion from the Church was more involved, and she suspected the same to be true for Agnes and Nora. During her brief visit the previous evening, she hadn’t picked up on any signs that something was off with them, but upon revisiting the situation now, she realized the two women were more than just team partners. For one, they were overly comfortable in each other’s company. They frequently exchanged soft smiles and extended glances. Their body language—legs parted wide while sitting with arms draped over the top of their seats—also hinted at intimacy.
Celeste recalled Nora’s response to her offer of a lift. Her facial expression had changed. The corners of Nora’s mouth had elevated in concert with a softening of her eyes. At the time, Celeste had the impression her question was somehow amusing, but she’d been baffled as to why. Nora must’ve realized her expression was suspect and corrected it, but it was so quick, Celeste thought it forced. Reviewing the incident, she concluded that the two were lovers. Nora had mentioned she lived in the same building as Agnes, and it occurred to Celeste that the two might be sharing quarters. The Vatican provided funds enabling all three of them to live their lives in service to the Church. Most likely, Nora had a separate living space for appearance’s sake.
When it came to Catholic doctrine, Celeste was almost a total conformist. Sex was the only issue that had her conflicted.
Sex with men was strictly forbidden in the convents, but it did occur and caused quite a stir when encountered. While lesbianism was also prohibited, a blind eye was usually turned to it by the superiors—if the parties were discreet. Celeste had never witnessed any sisters in her convent engaging in overt sexual practices, though the occasional flirting in the form of compliments or off-color jokes did occur. Based on the briefing she’d received from Father MacLeod before joining the team, Celeste was sure the two women had been in separate convents before their own partings with the Church. This might mean their affair began while they were members of the team. Aside from their empathic abilities, what could the two have done that was egregious enough to get them both expelled from the Church? To her way of thinking, attachments bound by love shouldn’t have been the reason.
Celeste bemoaned that physic-empaths couldn’t read each other’s emotions. They had a natural ability to block scanning by their own kind. Too bad because it would’ve been an easy way to help solve the mystery.
Her thoughts turned to others she, and those of her kind, hadn’t been able to read. While some people had a natural resistance to being scanned, others had learned how to deflect it. Father MacLeod was an example of the latter. Well, she assumed his ability to block her had been learned, as she’d never run across a male with empathic powers.
She wondered if male demons outnumbered female.
She’d never encountered a demon. There had been instances in lay society and in the convent where she’d picked up emanations of pure evil, but they’d always been of the human variety. Lust had been the strongest of these sins. To this day it was the one that stirred the most revulsion in her. An image of her former Mother Superior wormed its way into her mind, but she closed her eyes and concentrated on God’s love. The old woman’s image was replaced with that of a smiling Jesus, His burgundy-colore
d heart large, radiant, and centered on His chest. Celeste’s white-robed Jesus had His arms spread out before Him, accepting of her and anyone else willing to embrace Him. She silently thanked her God for His love.
Google informed her that Goffstown was an hour away from the doughnut shop, but traffic was light. Celeste made the trip in fifty minutes. Two hours early, she thought to spend the extra time by getting something to eat. Crossing over a concrete bridge in the center of town, she came upon a diner called Travers Tavern and pulled into an empty parking spot in front. She was delighted to see it had counter-seating with old-fashioned steel napkin dispensers and real silverware. Chrome-trimmed stools with shiny red plastic seat pads lined the counter.
Preferring to eat in solitude, she perused the dining room. She smiled. This diner does things right! The wooden tables and chairs appeared rugged and every table had a linen tablecloth. Not only was it welcoming, it portended a quality meal.
A friendly-looking young woman in a white uniform adorned with an equally bright apron invited Celeste to sit down. The name tag on the girl’s uniform read SANDI, and Celeste nodded, thanking her by name.
Celeste chose a table by a window and leafed through the menu. The waitress returned, poured coffee and took her order.
She sipped her coffee, her gaze drifting outside. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one early for the meeting.
Across the street, in front of a columned building that must’ve been the town hall, two cars had pulled to the curb. One was a white Cadillac; the other, a large black sedan. Both drivers’ doors opened. An old man exited the Cadillac. Father MacLeod, wearing his collar, cassock, and black trousers, climbed from the other.
The men moved onto the sidewalk, shook hands and spoke. A police cruiser pulled slightly ahead of the Cadillac in the street. The old man fished through his pockets, held up what Celeste thought was a ring of keys, and then walked to the cruiser with them.
“Excuse me.”
The Moore House Page 4