by S. L. LUCK
Ada made to rise, but Dan held out his hand as if to stop her. “Wait a minute, Ada, there’s no need to get like that. You know me. You know I would never bring something to you that I didn’t believe in myself. You have to believe me on this one. I know it sounds crazy, and I know that what we’re asking you to do is going to cause a lot of headaches around here. But it’s what we need to do to keep people safe. If I’m wrong, well, then that’s on me. I’ll take full responsibility for this one; resign if I have to.” The other men swelled with admiration for Dan, and he took in their collective respect and gave it right back to them. “We’re not some ragtag bunch of troublemakers, Ada. You’ve got the best citizens in the entire community right in front of you, begging for you to do the right thing. It would be wise to listen to them.”
“I’m sorry, Dan, I just can’t do it. I want to believe you, and I’m not saying I don’t, but how would it look if I tell people they can’t enjoy a day out with their families because we’re scared the boogeyman is going to get them? The media would have a heyday with that one.”
“It’s not like that, Ada,” Dan argued.
“It’s exactly like that,” Ada said, ignoring the priests’ frowns. “But it’s not the only reason I won’t make that call. Because I respect you and because I know that you’ll keep in confidence what I’m about to tell you, you need to understand that my inclination is to do exactly as you suggest—as I was prepared to do a few days ago, mind you—but now my hands are tied. Right before you gentlemen came in, I was informed that the Prime Minister will be opening our parade.”
The men gasped. Father Bonner and Father Pauliuk crossed themselves, Dak reached for his medicine wheel, Ed’s hand went to the soft flesh above his pacemaker, and Dan buried the lower half of his face in his steepled fingers. “You have to tell them it’s canceled,” Dan said. “There’s no other way, Ada. He’s in real danger here. You can’t let him come.”
“I have no choice,” Ada said. “They’re already making arrangements. If I tell his team not to come because we feel something bad is going to happen, they’ll ask me to back it up—and if I try, they’ll have me committed. I’m just as frustrated as you are, but we’ve got to work with what we’ve got. Whatever the size of your team tomorrow, double it again. With his protection detail, that should be more than enough.”
“I told you, Ada, we’ve already done that,” Dan said.
“And I told you to double it again,” she countered.
Already, Dan was calculating how many additional officers he could pull, but the numbers were grim. “We don’t have the manpower, Ada.”
“Get the manpower,” she ordered. “And keep me updated if anything changes.”
Then Ada shook each man’s hand. It was Father Pauliuk who held on a little longer and offered her a blessing, which she ashamedly accepted. The touch of the preacher’s hand suffused her with a guilt so deep she stifled the shudder rising to her shoulders. She wished she could give them what they wanted, but what they wanted was career suicide. After busting her ass to get where she was, Ada simply wasn’t about to let it go, nor was she willing to make the city a public spectacle more than it already was. As she saw the men out, she thought she heard one of them say, “Lord have mercy,” and realized uneasily that it came from neither priest.
33
In homes, in apartments, in condominiums, on the streets, a disquiet fell over the city. Streetlights and porchlights spilled onto vacant spaces, upon which a short time earlier residents had rushed, preparing for something that poked at their anxieties for no particular reason, except to the dreamers.
Believers in Buddha, in God, in the Creator and in a great many spirits and gods and goddesses were compelled to pray. Puja was repeatedly practiced by Garrett’s Hindu population. The city’s Anglican, Lutheran, Catholic, and Baptist churches hosted impromptu evening services to soothe Gentile souls, and even Garrett’s lone synagogue was full of anxious Jews.
Even so, residents anticipated the next day’s festival with an exultation not experienced since Fauville tour bus number 587 plummeted from the Callingwood Bridge on that windy morning three weeks ago. Meticulous routes through the fairground were drafted by children eager for their annual carnival rides, candy, and games, while astute parents crafted their own methods for spreading the fun on limited budgets. This year everyone was willing to spend a little more.
Having been rejected by Ada, Dak returned home, where Nikonha was waiting with his family, while the others returned to Holy Redeemer to plan. There lurked a malignance in the outside darkness that the Cardinal family was unable to evade, so they took their ceremony to the living room and opened a window to let the unwanted energy out. Soon, smells of cedar, sweetgrass, sage, and tobacco reassured the Cardinal family and their Elder.
Rising from her prayer blanket, Nikonha said to them, “I’ve spoken to our knowledge keepers. We will gather at sunrise tomorrow to purify the fairgrounds. It’s the best we can do.”
Sunrise ceremonies were usually a great comfort to Dak, for they were the times when he reflected with gratitude on the many blessings in his life. When the boys were younger, they sleepily attended all of Nikonha’s ceremonies, and though their attendance somewhat dwindled as they grew into men, Dak knew the experience was part of who they became. The ceremonies had prepared them well. Though as he looked at their worried faces, he only hoped it was enough.
Nikonha stayed with them, reflecting, beseeching the spirits for protection, cleansing the bad energy around them until her voice began to crack and her eyelids became heavy, and she could stay no more. Dak offered Nikonha his and Wendy’s bedroom, but she declined. “I need my bed if I am going to have strength tomorrow, and so do you,” she said, touching his arm tenderly and accepting their hugs until she finally departed.
Full of worry, each member of the Cardinal house spent the rest of the evening imagining everything that could go wrong, while on the other side of the city, in Father Pauliuk’s office, Father Bonner deflected Dan’s apologies for Ada’s decision.
“You did your best, Daniel. If it weren’t for you, I fear she wouldn’t have blessed us with her presence in the first place. At one time, our collars would have granted us the freedom of kingdoms, but these days it seems we need a hall pass just to get from A to B. I know I’m being facetious, but it is what it is sometimes. As long as we rely on the Father, everything works out.” He smiled weakly at Dan.
Just then, Julia entered carrying a tray of sandwiches and juice boxes. The low-heeled pumps she’d worn earlier had been replaced with a pair of fuzzy pink slippers, and she had changed into an ankle-length floral dressing gown and peach-colored robe.
“Don’t mind me, gentlemen,” Julia said. “I figured if I’m going to be here all night, I might as well make myself comfortable. Here, we’ve got some sandwiches and juice for you. They’re still fresh and you look like you could use them. Please help yourself.”
Father Bonner and Dan began unwrapping tuna sandwiches.
“How many do you figure we have now, Julia?” Father Pauliuk asked, poking a straw into his juice box.
“Last count was a hundred and seventy-six,” Julia told him. “But they’re still trickling in.”
“And how many are staying the night?”
“As far as I know … all of them, Father.”
The men stopped eating and looked from Julia to the other priest. “All … of them?” Father Pauliuk asked.
Julia nodded. “They’ve brought their own blankets and pillows and quite a few have air mattresses and sleeping mats, so it’s going to be one big slumber party.” Her eyes squinted into little half moons as she grinned. “Nancy’s son opened the school and lent them all of their gym mats too.”
“Thank you for coordinating this, Julia. Please let them know we’ll begin vespers about ten minutes late.”
“I will, Father,” Julia said.
“I suspect I’ll have the same to look forward to when I return to m
y own parish,” Father Bonner said when Julia left. “A blessing, for sure, but not without its challenges. Praise the Lord.” He finished his sandwich and turned to Dan. “Will you be joining us this evening?”
Dan shook his head. “I wish I could. When I was a boy, you’d never keep me from a slumber party, especially in such good company, Father, but I have to figure out my schedule now. I have no idea how I’m going to do it.” He sighed. “You know the story of the loaves of bread and the fish?” Both priests nodded. Dan said, “Well, if there’s a way we can make a thousand constables out of a few dozen, I’d be happy to hear about it.”
Father Bonner brightened. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
“I don’t understand,” Dan said.
The older priest’s white eyebrows crested so high in his forehead Dan thought they just might fly away. “We are going to create our own army, Daniel. We are going to gather the believers across the city and thrust our prayers against the devil-woman and every other brute out there. You have your guns and your vests to protect you, but the first layer of protection will always be God. There are one hundred and seventy-six soldiers of God in this building, and more coming by the minute. I believe there are hundreds, if not a thousand more people in our city that will lean on that impenetrable power tonight. They might not know why, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that they do. We will take care of our flocks tonight and we will prepare them for whatever is going to occur tomorrow. I say we put out a call to prayer just before the festival starts. Maybe right after the parade, when everyone will be gathered together.” Father Bonner slid aside the cuff of his sleeve to peek at his watch. “I will do my best to fortify our troops during vespers and again in matins, but let’s set a place to bring everyone together. Does the staging area work? Robert, the Botchers are members of your church; do you think you could ask Roy if he’ll allow us that space near the greenhouse? We’ve only got an hour between the end of the parade and the opening of the fairgrounds. Thirty minutes should be enough.”
“Of course,” Father Pauliuk replied. “Good plan, Alistair. I know a lot of folks have been working hard on their floats, but I think we’re up for battle if we try to convince them they don’t need their cinnamon donuts or coasters afterward. Especially now.”
Father Bonner nodded. “We’ll have to do our best.”
Dan stood and tapped Father Pauliuk’s desk. He said, “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Let’s hope it all works out tomorrow, huh?”
But as Dan walked out, Father Pauliuk and Father Bonner looked at each other, certain that hope was not enough.
34
The red fingers of the sun began touching the horizon just as volunteers were finishing their preparations for the annual Festival Flapjack Breakfast under the big white tents on the northern edge of the fairground. At the beverage station, seven silver urns of coffee were arranged beside carafes of steeped tea and cartons of juice and milk, which Perry Searles gloomily nudged together to keep them from falling off the crowded tabletop.
He filled his thermos with black coffee and surveyed the space around him, his trancelike grief thwarting demands for perfection typical of him. He’d left his clipboard in his truck, and he didn’t care to retrieve it; the loss of his grandchildren weighed so heavily on his soul that he cared for nothing any longer. Previously the smell of bacon being cooked just a minute too long or the vision of syrup drips on the freshly dressed tables would send him into a hair-pulling tizzy, but now he regarded these imperfections placidly. They could burn the food and smother the tables, for all that Perry was concerned.
From behind, Dak clapped Perry on the shoulder. “You okay there, Per? I think we’ve got it under control; you can go if you want.”
Dak’s touch seemed to tug Perry from somewhere so far away he wasn’t sure Perry would ever respond. Then Perry said, “Nah. Dora’s coming with Catherine and the baby. They don’t want to be alone. The fresh air will be good for them.” His hand went to the back of his head to smooth down thin vestiges of graying hair.
“Kevin coming?” Dak asked of Perry’s son.
Perry shook his head. “Haven’t been able to get him out of the house since the funeral. He’s taken a month off work, but I don’t know if he’ll ever be ready to go back. I try to get him out, but he doesn’t want to see anyone, you know? God, I wish it had been me instead. They were just kids, dammit, they were just kids.” Spittle flew from Perry’s mouth as he tried to contain his anguish. Dak squeezed his shoulder, letting him cry.
Outside the tent, conversation buzzed as the line began to build. Perry wiped his face. “I’d like to let Dora and Catherine eat first, if it’s all right with you, Dak. They don’t need everyone staring at them the whole time.”
“Of course,” Dak said. Perry began to step away, but Dak reached for his arm. “Perry?”
“Yeah?”
Too late Dak realized that he didn’t know how to broach the subject of Sylvia Baker or the thing inside her in a manner that would make Perry believe him. He didn’t care about feeling foolish; he just did not want this man to suffer any more than he already had. “You know I wouldn’t lie to you, right Perry?”
Perry turned around and blinked at him. “About what? Something wrong, Dak?”
“I think you should take your family and go. Have your pancakes, eat up and all that, but I think it would be wise to leave right after.”
“Are you saying we’re not welcome? I know my absence has created a pile of work for you, but—”
“It’s not that, Perry. You did all the heavy lifting for months; you did a hell of a fine job, so there wasn’t much for me to do. It’s just—now hear me out before you say anything—I have a bad feeling about today. I know it sounds strange, but … you and I, we both believe in a higher power, don’t we?”
“I’m not so sure anymore,” Perry admitted, more depressed than curious about where Dak was leading him. “I did, or maybe I still do, but when you have your guts pulled out of you like we did, it’s hard to believe in anything. If there is someone up there”—Perry jerked a thumb upward— “then they’re sure playing one hell of a sick joke on us.”
“You ever think about it the other way?” Dak ventured cautiously. “What if all this is because of someone else? Someone evil. If we believe in good, then we can’t deny the bad, can we?”
Perry frowned. “You’re goddamn right it’s evil. I don’t know what you’re getting at, Dak, but I’m in no mood for a theological discussion. If you have something to say, say it and let me be.”
Dak drew from Nikonha’s advice to hear beyond words if he wanted to understand Perry’s heart, so he knew there was little he could say that would help his friend feel better. At last, he decided to be honest. “Something’s going to happen today, Perry. I don’t know what, but I feel it in my soul. And I’m not the only one. All around the city, people have been dreaming about it, the same dream in a thousand different heads. I personally know of two churches that were full last night because people are terrified. Our Elders, they’re sensing something too, and whatever it is, it’s not right. I’m not sure what it all means, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell you about it and something bad happened.”
Perry stepped back. For a moment, Dak thought he’d angered him, sure that what he was telling Perry had crushed the last traces of his strength. Instead, Perry’s gray eyes bore into him with new alertness. He said, “Catherine’s been having nightmares. Or she was having them. The docs gave her drugs and she’s been doing better the last few days; now she says she doesn’t remember her dreams any more but before … before they were awful. We figured it was because of the kids, you know. Anyone would have nightmares after something like that.”
“What were her nightmares about?” Dak asked.
“She wouldn’t tell us. But now I wonder.” Perry looked at the entrance of the tent, where his wife, daughter-in-law, and remaining granddaughter were walking in.
“Eat and then get them out of here,” Dak warned Perry again.
“I think we’ll take it to go,” Perry said, no longer in the conversation, already with his family. He dashed behind the serving table for Styrofoam containers while his curious wife mouthed her confusion to him.
Satisfied he’d done what he could to protect Perry and content with the steady progress of breakfast being cooked and distributed to the hungry crowd, Dak took leave and hustled to the pavilion a field’s length away. There, under the cedar roof, Nikonha had gathered sixteen Elders, already accepting their medicine. A haze of smoke traveled up their shoulders, necks, faces as Nikonha’s eagle feather circulated in front of them.
June Good Leaf’s small chin and high cheeks were pink with cool morning air. She bustled up her scarf to keep from aggravating her arthritis, but the wind found its way to her skin in other areas, pinching her here, poking her there until she couldn’t help but shiver. Seeing June struggle, Dak removed his jacket and covered her small body, insisting that his sweater was all he needed. Between Wendy and the boys, he found his place.
They crowded in on him, sharing their warmth, and Nikonha’s eagle feather appeared in front of Mavis, then Sarah, then Jesse, then Johnny, Dak and Wendy. The family purified their souls, extending their peace outward as far as they could to rid the area of bad energy. When it was over, Nikonha collected her prayer blanket.