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The Moore House

Page 20

by Tony Tremblay


  James Moore appeared before her as he must have in life. He was stout. He wore a crooked grin, framed by a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were black; within them, darker swirls spiraled to a vanishing point.

  “Hello, Celeste. I’ve been waiting for you.” The demon said and laughed, its timbre carrying loud and deep into the void.

  She reached out and embraced the demon.

  Contact was made, and their consciousness melded.

  Celeste gathered her last bit of mental strength as the possession commenced. She channeled it into her physical body, hoping it would be enough.

  Celeste’s body in the Moore house stiffened, and her head nodded.

  Seconds later, as she floated in the void, coldness spread through her. The connection to her physical body was severed. The pawnshop owner had fulfilled her request.

  “No!” The demon pushed at every corner of her mind. It thrashed in fury, seeking release.

  Celeste singled out one of the pinpricks of light in the distance. She flew toward it, the lights blurring as she picked up speed. Will I reach it?

  Trapped in her mind, the demon screamed.

  Welcoming her, the void expanded. She imagined herself soaring, hair whipping behind her as she held out her arms Christ-like, waiting to embrace God. She pushed the screaming demon in her mind as far back as she could, in the hopes that she would hear her savior’s greeting.

  The streaks of lights she thought of as stars were gone now, only darkness surrounded her. She had no way to gauge if she was moving or floating aimlessly.

  God, please, end this. Welcome me to heaven.

  A flare exploded in the distance. The size of the fireball increased, growing at a phenomenal rate until it encompassed all she could see. The center of the fireball burst, spewing out a blaze of red tentacles that blossomed into a yellow brilliance that would have been blinding if she were earthbound. A stream of white light emerged from the yellow. It grew larger and Celeste thought it the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. The shadows of people appeared in the center, and as the light approached her, they came into focus. She recognized them, all of them as family members and friends who had passed.

  I’m ready, God. Focusing on the light, she opened herself up.

  “Not so fast, Celeste.”

  The demon.

  It was her last untainted thought.

  CHAPTER 28

  Father MacLeod focused his attention on Celeste. He refused to allow his emotions to intrude, to keep him from doing his job. There was no time for alternate scenarios, second-guessing, or heartbreak. If Celeste’s actions succeeded, the future would provide an opportunity for reflection. He waited for the sign.

  When it came, a leak sprung in his resistance.

  Celeste nodded.

  He turned to the pawnshop owner, battling the urge to weep. “Now,” he said.

  The man rushed to the giant. Rex’s body shook as he pinned the old man to the floor. Sweat soaked the big man’s face as he struggled against the demon’s mental assault. The giant’s grunts were low, but Father MacLeod had no doubt as to the pain Rex suffered. The pawnshop owner removed the necklace from Mr. Lewis and slid it over Celeste’s head.

  The priest sighed. He doesn’t understand what he just did.

  The proprietor backed away from Celeste to stand near the priest. Seconds later, she collapsed to the floor.

  “Celeste!” The pawnshop owner rushed to her and then looked at the priest. “What can we do?”

  “Nothing now,” Father MacLeod replied.

  “Should I take the necklace off her?”

  “I’m not sure. From what Celeste has told me of her abilities, she’s removed the demon to a realm far from here, so it might not matter. I wouldn’t test that theory by removing the necklace, though. It’s keeping the demon trapped inside, for now.”

  The priest didn’t know much about the man, but from their limited interaction, he thought him pragmatic. If he removed the necklace and Celeste hadn’t yet banished the demon to her enigmatic void, they’d all be right back where they started.

  “She must be going through hell. Can you exorcise it out of her?” asked the proprietor.

  “This demon is smarter and more powerful than any other I’ve encountered. It has the ability to plan, and more troubling, it can jump from one person to another with relative ease. A lot will depend on how strong Celeste is, and where she was when the demon took her.”

  “What do you mean, where she was?”

  “Celeste’s abilities are unique. She’s an empath, but her methods differ from Agnes’ and Nora’s. I can only tell you what she once related to me, and even then, she didn’t understand it all that well. Celeste’s consciousness can travel to another realm. She didn’t know where or what this realm was, but she called it God’s universe. I believe Celeste has taken the demon to this universe.”

  The pawnshop owner straightened and the priest’s hand fell from his shoulder. “How did she know it would possess her? Not you or I?”

  “I’m thinking proximity. She told you to stand back, and I was already a distance away. She was the closest, and she had placed a hand on the old man. I think when it fled Mr. Lewis, it took the path of least resistance. Don’t forget, I also gave you a crucifix, affording you some protection, though she didn’t know that.”

  The proprietor shook his head. “I slipped the one you gave me into Rex’s pocket.”

  The priest was silent for a few seconds. “That explains how Rex was able to fight off the demon for as long as he did.”

  “Maybe. Rex has strength and abilities of his own. I wouldn’t discount them.”

  “Yeah, I bet he does. No matter. The demon possessed Celeste as she expected it to, saving all our lives in the process.”

  The owner released a heavy breath. “What now?”

  “I’ll take her to my office in Haverhill. We’ll do our best to bring her back.”

  A grunt off to their side caused both men to turn.

  “If you two are done chatting, could you please order your brute off me?” The voice belonged to Mr. Lewis.

  “Rex, are you okay?” asked the pawnshop owner.

  The giant nodded.

  “Right. Would you please pick up Mr. Lewis and place him outside alongside Agnes and Nora?”

  The giant slid to his feet, slipped an arm around Mr. Lewis’ waist and carried him to the front door and out of the Moore house. He returned minutes later for Celeste.

  Father MacLeod and the proprietor followed Rex as he carried her outside. “You know,” said the priest, “I can’t give you that necklace back. The Vatican will want to study it if there comes a time we can remove it.”

  “Yeah, I figured that.”

  Once the four of them were outdoors, Rex placed Celeste next to Agnes and Nora.

  Mr. Lewis pointed to a spot on the ground beside Agnes. “The cell phone—it’s over there—can you please hand it to me? I’ll get ambulances here right away.”

  The priest found the phone and handed it to the old man. “What are you going to tell them?”

  “I’ll have a private conversation with Lieutenant Rivera. I’ll tell him enough to give him an idea of how to handle the situation, but not everything. The force lost two men here—there’ll be an investigation from the New Hampshire Attorney General’s office.”

  He addressed the pawnshop owner. “I’ll keep you and Rex out of this; at least, I’ll try. As for your involvement, Father, I won’t be able to keep that hidden, given the circumstances.”

  Father MacLeod nodded his understanding.

  The pawnshop owner thanked Mr. Lewis. “Rex and I will be leaving now. Father, I’m counting on you to keep me informed of Celeste’s condition. If you would do so through Mr. Lewis, I’d be grateful.”

  Once more, the priest nodded.

  “One thing, Mr. Lewis,” the priest said. “I need to speak to someone before you call for the ambulances. I know it’s a lot to ask at this point, b
ut I need you to wait another five to ten minutes before you make that call. I believe the ladies can handle the wait.”

  Lewis offered Father MacLeod the cell phone. After less than a minute, the priest clicked off and handed the device back

  Eight minutes later, Mr. Lewis called for assistance.

  CHAPTER 29

  Three Months Later

  Wearing his street attire—a white shirt and black pants—Father MacLeod relaxed on the sofa in Agnes’ living room, one ankle resting on the opposite knee. A manila folder covered his lap.

  Facing him, Agnes leaned back on an oversized stuffed chair, her arm nestled in a frayed sling emblazoned with colorful patches. He couldn’t help smiling. She’d pulled through the ordeal at the Moore house with little to show for it, except a few broken bones. She returned the smile, but her eyes spoke of her true condition. Bags and heavy lids betrayed her weariness.

  Alongside Agnes, Nora’s bulk rested in a wheelchair, her injured leg wrapped in a brilliant white cast. The priest couldn’t determine if it was new or if she and Agnes had spent an inordinate amount of time scrubbing it for this meeting. Nora had gained considerable weight since the incident at the Moore house, though she didn’t appear to display any discomfort from it. He had received reports on her progress from the Church psychologist. For the past few months, she’d been wrestling with her actions and mental state from her time in Goffstown. Counseling and consoling from the psychologist, Agnes and himself had gone a long way to convince her it was the demon’s influence that caused her breakdown at the Moore house.

  Nora had thought herself a coward, her contribution to their effort slight, even dangerous. It was only this past month she’d appeared to have accepted their explanation for her actions and come to terms with them. Father MacLeod imagined her insecurities ran deep, and he questioned if she’d ever return to her former self-assured, cocky self.

  Mr. Lewis balanced himself on the edge of a cushion on the other end of the sofa, holding his cane with both hands to provide the support needed to remain comfortably seated. His frailty was apparent, as he seemed to have difficulty keeping his chin from dipping onto his chest. The old man shouldn’t have come in his condition. He’d been offered a briefing of the meeting but insisted on attending. The priest couldn’t decide if Mr. Lewis were here out of a sense of guilt or if he simply wanted closure. Either was good enough reason, in Father MacLeod’s estimation.

  “Anyone want a drink while I’m up?” came a voice from the kitchen.

  “Yes, please. I’ll take a Glenfiddich, one ice cube, please,” responded Father MacLeod. “Thank you, Catherine,” he added.

  “Anyone else?” When no one replied, she stepped to a cabinet for the scotch.

  The priest closed his eyes in satisfaction and inhaled heavily. Catherine exhibited no ill effects from her possession. The Church had been astounded by her recovery. The Vatican exorcists took credit for it, and Father MacLeod was more than happy to let them. His part in her recovery was between him and Catherine, with the mutual understanding they’d keep the details to themselves. He’d approached her last week to ask if she wanted to discuss her possession, but she put him off, assuring him they’d get a chance to talk about it in the future. Though Catherine’s breakthrough had occurred the same day Celeste had been admitted, not one of the exorcists questioned the timing.

  Sister Bernice was another matter. Her stares and angry eyes followed him whenever he visited Celeste’s room. After a month of this, his patience had worn thin, and he took the nun aside. His intent had been to admonish her, to explain the affairs of God were not hers to question, but his resolve crumbled. She’d assisted him in his time of need and considered that her motivation for dogging him. Her accusatory facial expressions might’ve been her attempt to assuage her guilt. After he’d recounted Celeste’s involvement and sacrifice at the Moore house to Sister Bernice, her staring recriminations were replaced with sorrowful side glances. He didn’t know which of the two bothered him more.

  His thoughts of Sister Bernice were interrupted when Catherine tapped him on the shoulder, handing him his drink. She sat in a chair to Agnes’ right. As he gazed at the three of them, he thought, Worse for wear, we’re all together again.

  Absent from the meeting were the pawnshop owner and his assistant, Rex. Father MacLeod had asked Mr. Lewis to convey the intent and the time of the meeting to the pawnshop owner. The old man replied that he doubted either of them would attend, and his prediction proved correct. The priest wasn’t disappointed by the refusal.

  “Ahem.”

  Chief Rivera, the officer who’d replaced Dodd, stood in the center of the living room. All eyes focused on him.

  “At the request of Mr. Lewis, I’ll update all of you on the preliminary findings from the investigation of the Moore house. Before I start, let me say the case isn’t closed. The state attorney general’s office has jurisdiction, and I assure you they will keep it open for years to come.

  “I won’t bore you with the transcripts—the report is over a hundred pages, and it’s long on supposition and short on conclusions. I’ll give you the salient points if that’s okay.”

  Mr. Lewis nodded.

  “Initial evidence points to a serial killer. The suspect used the Moore house as his base of operations and the attorney general’s office believes he’s responsible for seven unsolved homicides in the greater Goffstown area. They also believe he was responsible for the death of Officer Jones.

  “At the behest of Mr. Lewis, the Catholic Church was requested to perform a blessing on the Moore house for the benefit of Mr. Lewis’ granddaughter, her last known location. The suspect was in the house at the time of the blessing and attacked two representatives of the Church, Agnes Levesque and Nora Fournier, who preceded Father MacLeod’s arrival. When Officer Jones, who happened to be passing by, stopped at the residence and attempted to assist those representatives, he was assaulted, tortured, and killed.

  “The whereabouts of Chief Dodd are unknown. He is presumed to be deceased. His DNA was discovered on one of the walls in the living room of the Moore house, so it’s known he entered the house at some point. There is speculation that the suspect abducted the chief and disposed of the remains elsewhere.

  “When Father MacLeod arrived at the home to conduct the blessing, it’s believed the suspect fled. The priest’s arrival prevented the suspect from killing the two representatives from the Church. Father MacLeod administered first aid to both women. Mr. Lewis arrived shortly thereafter and called 9-1-1 to report the incidents.”

  Father MacLeod noted that in the chief’s summary, the officer mentioned only two representatives from the church. There was no mention of Celeste.

  After his last visit with Catherine in the bowels of his office in Haverhill, he’d phoned Mr. Lewis with the name of the demon. When that call was over, he made one more. He’d called the local parish, alerting Father Brickley to stand by with a vehicle in case it was needed. Father Brickley was summoned before Mr. Lewis called 9-1-1, and together, they removed Celeste and arrangements were made to transport her to his Haverhill office.

  Chief Rivera continued. “A thorough search of the Moore house was conducted the following day. A forensic team was brought in to collect evidence. The investigation soon focused on the basement. Two bodies were discovered. The first was Mr. Lewis’ granddaughter, Gam Lewis. Forensics concluded that she was recently deceased, death occurring approximately two days prior to the discovery of her body. She was found in a crawlspace dug into the cellar floor. The crawlspace was concealed, but strangely, not well enough to avoid detection. Investigators are perplexed as to how it was not discovered during the many searches conducted on the property.”

  Now, Father MacLeod had an answer to something that had bothered him since the Moore house incident. Demons fed on innocence, taking strength from it. Gam may have been a drug addict, but she must have been otherwise moral. The demon used her innocence to sustain itself, then when the t
eam showed up, it either let her die or it killed her. As to not discovering the crawlspace, keeping that hidden would have been child’s play for the demon.

  “The other body was a Ms. Melanie Moore. Ms. Moore was the former wife of James A. Moore, listed as the prior owner of the property. She disappeared several years ago, along with her daughter.”

  Nora spoke up. “Her daughter’s body wasn’t found?”

  “No. We have a nationwide missing person’s bulletin issued on her, but there’s been no response.”

  He continued. “Further evidence taken from the scene turned up the DNA of James A. Moore. The amount of blood indicates he suffered mortal injuries, but as I mentioned, his body wasn’t at the scene. Farther into the basement, we found numerous occult markings on the floor and walls. A large pentagram had been painted on the floor in Mr. Moore’s blood, and all four walls contained scribbling using various blood types. The DNA results from the walls revealed the blood used was a combination of the seven homicide victims, Mr. Moore’s, unidentified human sources, and an unidentified animal. Again, investigators are confounded that the markings and blood stains were not mentioned in earlier police visits.”

  Father MacLeod opened the manila envelope on his lap, jotting down notes onto a sheet of paper. It would be inserted later into his personal file on the Moore House. He also made a note to ask Mr. Lewis for a copy of the official report, if the man could use his leverage to obtain it.

  “To finish this up, interviews with all parties involved at the Moore house have been non-productive. The two female representatives from the Church claim they cannot recall the events that occurred after they entered the house. In addition, Father MacLeod and Mr. Lewis both claim not to have witnessed the suspect flee the premises. The AG’s office does not believe those claims, and they’ll continue to question the parties involved. Due to the occult markings in the basement, the condition of Officer Jones’ body, and the presence of the three individuals representing the Catholic Church, they believe a religious ritual was in progress. The report hypothesizes it was an exorcism.”

 

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