The Moore House

by Tony Tremblay

  His body tensed and he closed his eyes. When he looked again, they were gone.

  CHAPTER 11

  The screams came from all directions. As sharp as knives, they sliced through Celeste’s head, and she wondered which of her two teammates were responsible for them. Despite the pain, she was unable to pull her eyes from the possessed body of Officer Jones. She stood frozen, horrified by the awkward angle of his neck. The screaming ebbed, faded to an echo, and then rose again. It was high pitched and consisted of a single syllable that never varied.

  Ahhhhhh…

  The sound sent needles from the back of her head down to the curve of her back. The urge to comfort or confront the source of the wailing was overwhelming, but first, she had to fight the fear paralyzing her.

  Celeste forced herself to close her eyes. After a moment, the seeds of control took root. The muscles in her upper body relaxed and her shoulders sagged. A heaviness overcame her, and her knees bent from the weight. With some effort, she angled her head toward Agnes and Nora.

  She opened her eyes.

  Nora had her arms wrapped around Agnes’ midsection. Both women were shaking, their jaws clenched tight, their eyes wild and focused on the officer.

  If their mouths are closed, who’s screaming?

  The answer came quickly. They were emanating from inside her head—from the part of her that wanted nothing more to do with dead men, demons, and the Moore house. She kneeled, covered her head with her hands and rocked her upper body in time to the screams. Calm down, calm down, you’ll get through this. She repeated the phrase, again and again, letting the words bleed through her fear and blanket it. Soon, she heard only the mantra.

  Celeste straightened and faced the two women. The movement caught Agnes’ attention who made eye contact with her. Agnes exhaled deeply and nodded. Celeste was grateful that Agnes appeared to be aware of the situation, that she hadn’t succumbed to shock. Nora wasn’t faring as well. Her gaze remained on the body in the chair. Her head shook rapidly as if a continuing denial of the situation was enough to make it go away. Tears from overly wide and red eyes trailed down her cheeks. Celeste gently called to her, but there was no response. She positioned herself in front of Nora, but the woman stared right through her. Celeste called to her once more, but this time she placed a hand on Nora’s shoulders.

  Nora jumped at the touch. Her wild gaze shot to Celeste.

  “Nora, it’s me,” Celeste calmly responded. “Come on, you have to snap out of this, we have to figure a way out of here.”

  Agnes removed Nora’s arms from around her waist and took a step back. “He’s gone for now, dear. Celeste is right, we need to stay calm.”

  Nora’s head swiveled back and forth between the two of them. Finally, her panicked features softened and she lowered her gaze. Shoulders slumped, she let out a tired breath.

  “I—I’m scared. I’ve never been more scared in my life.”

  Agnes wrapped her arms around her. “We’re all scared, dear.”

  “I know, but this isn’t like me to react this way. “

  Celeste spoke up. “Nora, we need to do is stay level-headed, figure a way out of here or wait for help to arrive….”

  A loud voice cut Celeste off.

  “Ha!”

  The three women shrieked, grabbed onto each other, and took two steps backward. Celeste looked to Officer Jones’ body, but there were no signs of movement.

  Nora groaned. “What are we going to do?”

  Agnes who took control as she broke off from the others. “When help arrives,” she said pointing, “I’d like to be next to those windows. I say we sit on the couch to wait, think this thing over. We should be able to hear them when they arrive.”

  Nora sobbed. “We won’t last that long.”

  

  An hour had passed since the officer’s death. In that time, Nora had done nothing but whimper and cling to Agnes. Agnes had never seen her so vulnerable, and she ached to protect her lover. As they sat on the couch, she cradled Nora tight to her breast, gently running her fingers through her hair.

  Celeste was harder to read. She’d been quiet, but with the occasional movement of her lips, Agnes assumed the young woman’s thoughts were racing. The demon had commented that Celeste was different. Was she trying to make sense of that statement? Initially, Agnes assumed the word different had something to do with sexual preference, but she didn’t know Celeste well enough to come to that conclusion. While some sisters had joined the Church because of their attraction to women, many others had discovered their sexual orientation while in service. From what she did know of Celeste, the woman had strong faith in doctrine. Leviticus 18:22 popped into Agnes’ head. Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination. While most of the scriptures addressed males when it came to homosexuality, the Church made it uncomfortably clear that it also applied to women. Though Agnes couldn’t be certain, she doubted Celeste harbored same-sex desires. Then again, the woman had been removed from the Church.

  Though it had never officially been broached, all of Agnes’ teammates, present and past, had an unspoken rule: never ask the others about the circumstances that led to their leaving the Church. Father MacLeod had that knowledge, and he’d vowed during Agnes’ initial interview never to divulge it to her partners. He’d followed it up by stating he would also respect her teammates’ privacy. As close as she and Nora were, the subject had never come up, and she had no intention of having the discussion with her.

  Nora clung tighter as if she were reading Agnes’ thoughts. Agnes leaned over and kissed the top of the woman’s head. Nora’s right hand slid across Agnes’ belly, and she paused there to rub it. She appreciated the intimacy and smiled, but then stiffened when Nora’s hand cupped her breast. The fondling continued for a few moments before Nora’s hand squeezed. Pain radiated through Agnes’ breast, but as she pulled Nora’s hand away, something moved in front of them.

  Officer Jones’ body.

  Its head had straightened, and it stared at her with dead, black eyes. Its mouth had been forced into a grin.

  It winked.

  Agnes pushed Nora away, creating a distance between them. Recoiling, she pressed herself tighter against the back of the couch. The dead man closed his eyes and its head dropped, but the grin remained. Agnes thought it looked like a rag doll. Puppet might’ve been a better term.

  “What’s the matter?” Nora’s voice was tinged with hurt.

  Agnes peered into her lover’s eyes and saw only innocence and uncertainty. She doesn’t know what she did. It’s in her head, messing with her. Messing with me.

  “Nothing, dear,” Agnes managed to say. “I got spooked, is all. Come back and lean against me. Try to clear your mind. Don’t let the demon know you’re thinking about it.”

  “Wait. Why? Did you pick up on something?”

  “Yes.” She paused. “No.” Another pause. “Maybe. I don’t know. Something just occurred to me, but I have to sort it out.”

  “If you can,” Nora pleaded, “Do it fast, please. And let us know what you come up with.”

  Agnes pulled Nora closer. “Yes, dear. I will. Celeste, you okay?”

  “Yes. Something happen?”

  “Well, Officer Jones over there winked at me. Could be I imagined it.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. It happened. I’m surprised that not much else has. Why hasn’t it made a move on us?”

  “I think it’s waiting for Father MacLeod,” Celeste answered.

  Nora leaned forward. “Father MacLeod? Why would it wait for him?”

  “I’ve been replaying the possession in my mind,” Celeste answered. “I keep coming back to something it did before it forced Officer Jones’ body into the chair. Remember when it said, “You are a means to an end?”

  Agnes nodded. “Yes, and then it said it would enjoy all of us in the meantime.”

  Nora jumped in. “You said there was also something it
did. What was that?”

  Celeste went on. “Before it answered me, it did something with his hand. You remember?”

  Agnes thought a moment. “I do. It rubbed the officer’s chin.”

  “It didn’t just rub it. It pulled at it. Who does that remind you of?”

  “That’s not much to go on,” Agnes said. “It could be a coincidence.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I’ve been running this through my mind for the last hour. On the two previous occasions, you’ve experienced possessions, Father MacLeod was present, and he was here for this one. Earlier, when we finished our investigation, Father MacLeod was in a hurry to leave. His relief at our outcome was almost over the top. Looking back, I think he embraced it as a personal victory, not a spiritual one.”

  “So, you think there’s some kind of relationship between the demon and Father MacLeod?”

  Celeste didn’t answer right away. After a few moments, she said, “Yes.”

  “The Cavalry is here.” The voice came from Officer Jones’ direction. All eyes settled on him, but his body remained limp.

  Agnes walked to the window. A locksmith’s van was pulling up to the curb. She also noticed another police cruiser parked behind their cars.

  “Hey, come and look at this!” Her voice was light, the tone hopeful. Celeste and Nora joined her.

  The locksmith met up with a police officer at the rear of the van. After removing a toolbox, they strode toward the front door. Agnes waved at them through the window, but neither responded. Celeste and Nora joined in, jumping and screaming, hoping to get their attention.

  “Why can’t they see us?” asked Nora.

  “It’s blocking us,” answered Celeste.

  “Well,” added Agnes, “It’s not blocking everything.”

  The locksmith had stepped to the window. His eyes were focused on the table affixed to the glass.

  Agnes could hear their conversation.

  The officer said, “Yeah, this is some weird shit right here. Let’s get this over with.”

  Minutes later, Agnes heard the whirring of a drill. The three of them hurried to the front. They could hear the drill wheezing as the bit pressed against the metal.

  Agnes shook as she waited for freedom. She saw Celeste and Nora, their eyes trained on the lock, leaning forward in anticipation.

  The wheezing stopped.

  The bit did not extrude from the lock. The door remained closed.

  Agnes heard the men.

  “Chief, I’ve never seen this before. The drill bit’s melted.”

  “What? How can that be?”

  “Don’t know. It’s carbide, that lock should have a hole in it by now.”

  “You got more drill bits?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s try the padlock on the back door, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll try the one on the bulkhead.”

  The voices faded. The three women moved to the back door. They heard clicking, and then the drill started. Less hopeful, the women waited again.

  The results were the same.

  In the quiet after the drill was turned off, the locksmith moved the padlock and pressed his eye close to the hole where the doorknob was supposed to be.

  Nora bent low and shouted, “Help us! Please help us!”

  The locksmith’s eye moved left to right a few times, then disappeared.

  “Can’t see anyone inside there, Chief. Just an old kitchen.”

  “Okay, let’s try the bulkhead.”

  Nora pounded on the door. “Don’t go! Please, get us out of here!”

  Agnes didn’t expect a reply.

  Celeste asked if they should go into the basement and wait by the bulkhead. Agnes was quick to respond.

  “I have no idea what’s in that cellar, and I’m not sure the lights are even turned on in this house. It’d be the perfect place for the demon to screw with us. Anyway, we’ll know right away if those two get in, but I’m not holding out any hope.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense,” Celeste replied. “I’m going to find the door that leads downstairs and stand by it. If they do make it through, I want to make sure they can hear us.”

  The three women found a door off of the hallway that led to the cellar. Agnes opened it, glancing at the walls on either side of the stairs. She flicked a light switch. The cellar remained dark. “Like I said, we stay up here.”

  Though muted, the familiar whine of the drill drifted up to them. It soon stopped. The three of them waited. A thunk against the bulkhead vibrated through the cellar and up the stairway. It was followed by another, and then a series.

  Nora identified the sound. “They’re trying to hammer the lock off.”

  The pounding stopped. They heard no squeaking of hinges, no sunlight brightening the cellar, just a long silence. Hurrying to the front windows, they saw the locksmith and the police officer walking across the front yard to their vehicles.

  Nora slapped at the window. “No! Don’t leave us here!”

  Agnes was relieved Nora’s hand didn’t stick to the glass.

  Celeste mumbled, “Well, I think that’s one more piece of evidence.”

  “Evidence?” Agnes asked. “Of what?”

  “That it’s waiting for Father MacLeod. It’s not going to allow anyone in, or let us leave.”

  Agnes’ absorbed Celeste’s comment. Then she spoke. “Speak of the Devil.”

  Father MacLeod rushed past the line of cars parked in the street, toward the locksmith and cop. Before he reached them, another vehicle pulled in behind him. An old man in a suit exited the car. Taking hesitant steps, he walked toward the Moore house.

  CHAPTER 12

  Father MacLeod ignored Mr. Lewis and approached the police officer. “What happened, Chief? Did you get in?”

  “No. The drill bits melted. They freaking melted! Three of them. We tried breaking one of the locks and didn’t even scratch the damn thing,” answered the chief, his voice shaking.

  “Melted?”

  “Yeah. And that’s not the only messed-up thing about that house. Go look at that window to the left of the front door. On the inside, there’s a freaking table sticking out of it. It’s suspended there, on the glass, without support. I was here earlier and tried to break the glass. I even shot at it. The bullet bounced off. And that does not look like bulletproof glass.”

  The locksmith left the officer’s side and opened the rear doors of his van. The priest and the police officer watched silently as he tossed the toolbox inside. He closed the doors.

  “I’m outta here. Don’t ask me to come back,” he shouted to the chief, slipped into the van, and drove away.

  Behind the priest, Mr. Lewis commented. “It would appear the locksmith was not successful.”

  Father MacLeod didn’t respond.

  “Are they inside?” asked the old man.

  “We looked in the windows, but didn’t see anyone,” the chief said. “They could be upstairs or in the basement, but we didn’t hear anyone. If they’re in there, they’re locked in tight.”

  Mr. Lewis regarded the man. “Let’s take another look, shall we?” The old man walked to the front door without waiting for a response. Father MacLeod and the chief followed.

  There was no sign the lock had been tampered with, but there were slivers and gobs of metal on the floorboards. No one bothered to try the door.

  The chief pointed. “Over there is the window I was talking about.” He stepped toward it, the other two following.

  Once they reached it, Father MacLeod froze. He could see Agnes, Celeste, and Nora, banging on the glass, pleading for help. Stunned, the priest quickly regarded Mr. Lewis and the chief. They were stone-faced; both studied the glass, their eyes on the table. They can’t see them, Father MacLeod realized and returned his attention to the women. Though all three were screaming and weeping, he couldn’t hear them. He studied their lips—Celeste was repeating help us, while Agnes shouted Father MacLeod over and again. Nora’s lips were alternately tight and t
wisted open, soaked with tears. His own eyes watered. He reached a hand up to the women.

  Agnes, Celeste, and Nora went still. The priest saw the fear etched on their faces. The women slowly turned.

  Behind them, Officer Jones rose from his chair, his motions jerky, his stance uneasy. He shuffled out of view, towards the front door.

  The priest stepped back from the window, his gaze shifting to the entrance. Mr. Lewis and the chief took note. They stood on either side of him.

  Cackling exploded inside Father MacLeod’s head, the volume escalating, the laughter’s echo careening through his skull. His hands went to his ears as he fell to his knees. He screamed in pain and slammed his head against the grass to dislodge the sound. His hands went to his ears, and blood pooled in his palms.

  In time, the cackling stopped—the ringing in his ears its only remnant. Dazed, he stood and stared at the door until the ringing subsided, but now a voice arose, low and guttural.

  “Welcome to hell, priest.”

  Father MacLeod backed a few paces, separating himself from Mr. Lewis and the chief. “Move,” he hollered. “Get away from the house. Do it now!”

  The two men didn’t question the order. With the priest leading, they rushed toward the street. When Mr. Lewis slowed, the chief grabbed his arm and pulled him along. Father MacLeod stopped on the grass, shy of the cars, and the others followed suit. Breathing heavily, they faced the building.

  The three men held their breath and remained still, as the front door of the Moore house inched open. Officer Jones stood in the doorway, knees bent, head lowered, leaning against the frame for support.

  “Jones! Jones! Are you okay?” Chief Dodd called to the officer.

  Father MacLeod placed a blood-stained hand on the chief’s arm. “That’s not Jones.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? That’s Jones; there’s no doubt in my mind.”

  “He’s been possessed. He might even be dead, from the way he looks.”