The limousine slowly wheeled out of the cemetery and drove back to the funeral home, where Jean and Louis could pick up their cars. There was a small gathering in the basement of a Catholic Church for the family and close friends. Louis didn’t really think he’d want to be around people after the graveside service, but he had Chapman set up the reception with a caterer out of tradition anyway. There was always a gathering after a funeral, sort of a send-off, so the family could loosen up and say their goodbyes.
Louis guessed that it was the closest thing to closure that any of them would get, and probably the last time some of them would ever see each other, unless of course there was another funeral, or possibly a wedding.
There wasn’t much of a drive from the funeral home. The church was only two miles away, near Hell’s Kitchen, so it only took a few minutes even with traffic. The brownstone Louis had inherited from his mother was only three blocks from it. He fondly remembered living there after turning eighteen. It was a happy time in his life. He thought of stopping in just to look around for a minute, but decided against it, in favor of relaxing and having a few drinks with Jean and Tindili. The house would keep. He had it locked up tight, and paid a cleaning service to go in once a month to dust the antiques and mop the floors. There was no urgency to stop in.
The church was ancient, as everything in that area of the city was, with wide stone arches and beautiful stained glass windows. Other than the obscene graffiti on the outside, it reminded Louis of the church he’d gotten married in. He could have kicked himself at the thought, because no matter where he was or what he was doing, he was constantly inadvertently associating everything with his wife or marriage in some way. Louis promised himself that he would be more careful about that in the future. He knew what he was doing was normal, but reality was painful enough; he didn’t need to add to it.
Louis tried to relax and have a beer. It was the first beer he’d had in longer than he could remember, and surprised himself at how quickly he gulped it down. He nodded ‘hello’ to a few people then settled into a corner to drink and watch everyone.
Sometimes just sitting back and seeing the interaction between others was soothing. He was safe that way, under no pressure and he could allow himself to take a deep breath away from it all. It was always his option to join in if he so desired.“You’re on the outside looking in again,” Jean said, approaching him. He could see Stephanie in the far corner with several other children eating junk food and laughing.
“I guess I am.” Louis replied.
“I’ve seen you do this too many times during holiday parties. Snap out of it,” she said. “Now is not the time to close off from people.”
“Sorry, I think it’s an inborn talent. Sometimes it’s easier to deal with things on the inside by being on the outside.” He finished his beer and nodded towards the children. “It amazes me how easy kids can move on from things. It’s like they’ve already turned the page and begun another chapter.”
“They have a small wallet and we have suitcases,” Jean said.
“Ah, baggage. Yeah, I suppose everyone has their share after a couple of decades.” Louis commented. “I don’t really want to stay too long, I just thought I’d hang out and have a few beers to unwind. Are you two heading home after this?”
“Yeah. Steph seems fine now, but I’m sure when she calms down we’re going to have to talk about the whole ‘death’ thing. I think it’s healthy for her to learn about these things when she’s young,” Jean replied.
“I suppose it’s all a part of life. We all have to learn about it some time.” Louis said.“You’re starting to sound like an old man,” Tindili said, approaching them from behind. He was carrying a mug of coffee, and an unopened beer. There was a thick unlit cigar hanging from his lips.
“Look who’s talking, don’t you have a teenager at home?” Louis said, smirking at him. “John Junior no less. ” He turned and discarded the empty beer can, still watching Stephanie and the other children. They looked too young and innocent to understand pain and loss.
“Yeah, you got me there. I’m no spring chicken,” Tindili laughed. “Here, I thought you might need another one of these.” He handed Louis the beer and turned toward Jean. “I suggest you lock little Stephanie up when she turns thirteen and don’t let her out until she’s at least eighteen or so. It’ll save you from going gray at a young age. In my case, it didn’t change color, it just fell out.”
“I hope it’s not that bad,” Jean laughed. “I was hoping it would be easier as she got older. It supposed to, right?”
“It’s worse if you buy her a car,” Tindili said, half-serious. “Believe me, I know.”
“How old is your son?” Jean asked.
“He just turned seventeen. He’s driving now, as of last week.” Tindili added. “My wife says a prayer every time he takes out his keys. I’m a bit more realistic and optimistic. We have lots of insurance and a very loud car alarm.”
“John’s exaggerating, his son’s been great. He’s never been in any kind of trouble.” Louis laughed. He opened the beer Tindili had given him and sipped it. “He’s going to grow up and be a cop just like his old man.”
“I hope not. I wouldn’t wish my job on anyone,” Tindili said. “It’s definitely a love-hate thing. Right now I’m counting the years until I can retire.” His beeper went off just as he was about to light the cigar. “Damn! Sorry Louis, I gotta go. I left my phone in the car, but I already know what the call is about. It’s going to be a long night.”
“No sweat John. I understand.” Louis looked at Jean. “I should get out of here myself, before I drink too much. This beer tastes awfully good after not having any for so long.”
“The last thing you need is to get pulled over after drinking too much.” She hugged Louis tightly. “I understand. But you’d better not be a stranger.”
“I could never do that. We’re family,” he said with a hug. “Now let me go say goodbye to your young lady.”
After giving Stephanie a big hug and promising to take her to a movie soon, Louis left the church. He stopped off to pick up more cigarettes and after thinking about it for a minute, he bought a six-pack of beer too. It tasted too good not to have a few more when he was home and it didn’t matter how much he drank.
Louis chugged the beer, one after another, over a long conversation with Bruce.
He explained how his father had shown up at the funeral and how he had to lie to Tindili to cover up his eyes turning red.WHY LIE
HE SEE HE BELIEVE
Bruce typed in response.
“I thought about just showing him, but I don’t think now is the right time. I was a bit hasty when I started to tell him before. The time will come, I’m sure, when I won’t be able to hide who I am any longer. He’ll have to believe me then. I just hope he’s still my friend afterwards.”
Louis finished the entire six-pack, and hoped to be able to ease into sleep, but unfortunately he was plagued by the same nightmare again. Frustrated, he stripped and soaked in a steaming hot tub. Something he used to do before, after a rough day at work. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it, and couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to take such time for himself. It had to have been at least a year since he’d been able to do much of anything for himself. He felt sad and selfish for wanting time for himself. Then he realized that he’d sabotaged his own self worth because of the illness that had touched both his and Diane’s life. Diane would want him to have time for himself. He assured himself that she’d want him to be happy and continue living. She’d said so herself more than once.
But for the slim flame of a lonely candle on the counter next to the tub, the bathroom was completely dark, just the way he liked it. Louis, fully reclined in the scalding water, began to doze off. It was just as he had hoped. The heat of the water had relaxed his entire body and allowed him to drift off and stop thinking. In a few minutes he’d pull himself out of the tub, trudge back to bed and hopefully sleep dreamlessly like the dead.
“Your daddy is a real bad man. He’s like my daddy, only yours doesn’t make you touch him,” said the voice of a little girl from out of nowhere.
Louis cried out and nearly jumped out of the tub. He slid completely under the water with his feet momentarily sticking straight up in the air. There was a dull thud against the bottom of the tub that reminded Louis’ head what physical pain was.
“Don’t be scared. I didn’t mean to scare you,” said the voice. “I’m sorry.”
Louis ducked low in the tub, but kept his head and shoulders visible. “Who’s there?” he said, still startled. “How’d you get in?” He quickly scanned the room, but saw no one.
“You could have fooled me,” he said, coughing up water and rubbing the back of his head. “A warning would have been nice, even polite.”
“My name is Samantha, but everyone calls me Sam,” said the voice, which sounded female and child-like. “At least they used to. Now no one even talks to me. Your door was open, so I just came in. I think I was supposed to.”
“Do you always just walk in on people when they’re in the bathtub?” Louis asked. He managed to pinpoint where the voice was coming from, but all he could see was a shadow in the far corner of the room. There wasn’t anyone visible in the room with him. He carefully pulled the plug from the bottom of the tub, and let his much-needed relaxation flow down the drain along with any hope he had for a good night’s sleep.
“Where are you Sam?” Louis continued in an attempt to keep her talking. He grabbed a towel from a rack next to the tub and hastily wrapped it around his waist while still in the tub.
“I’m in the corner, but you probably can’t see me. It’s so dark in here,” Sam said, sounding nervous. “Don’t turn on the light though, cuz it’ll hurt my eyes.”
Louis saw the shadow of a little girl, but no little girl. His mind raced with possible explanations, but the conclusion he eventually settled on was in fact, very unsettling.
“You’re not really here, are you Sam?” Louis asked, sitting up.
“No, I’m here, but-“
“You’re dead aren’t you?” Louis asked, already knowing the answer.
“I think so,” Sam replied, sounding afraid.
“Sorry I was so blunt. There’s nothing to be afraid of Sam. I’m your friend. My name is Louis,” he said, staring at the shadow of the little girl. He’d begun shivering, no longer having the warmth of the water to keep the chill of the dark room away.
“I hope you’re not mad, but I don’t want anymore big people to be my friends.” Sam said angrily. “They always say nice things, but then they hurt me, and get angry at me for being hurt.”
“I’m sorry other people hurt you, but I won’t.” Louis said. He tried to sound soothing, but his words trembled with cold and sadness.
“I guess I can be your friend then. Something told me you wouldn’t hurt me.” She said. “There was this shining light with a voice. It told me to come here. You’re supposed to be able to help me. If you can’t, then I’ll always be like this. ”
“What can I do to help you?” Louis asked. “I usually don’t deal with people like you,” he added, knowing that was the understatement of the year.
“You have to stop my daddy!” the little girl said angrily. “I think he’s looking for another friend to be mean to.”
“What do you mean? You think he’s going to kill another little girl like you?” Louis asked.
“How did you know he killed me?” she asked.
“I can guess really good at things,” he replied with a sad grin. “I’m a detective. It’s kind of my job. Maybe that’s why you were sent to me for help.”
Louis began to formulate the puzzle of her father’s crimes in his mind. For the first time in days, his head felt completely clear and able to focus on something other than death. His years of experience and training took over and he knew exactly what questions he needed to ask.
“You never answered me sweetheart,” he coaxed. “Do you think he’s got someone else now? Has he been hurting other people?”
“He’s made a lot of new friends since mommy left,” she said. “But I don’t think he has any new one picked out or at home yet. He had three but they’re not his friends anymore. They’re like me, only they’re gone. He used to keep them in the basement.”
“Hon, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go into the bedroom. It’s only across the hall,” Louis said as he stepped out of the bathtub. “I‘m freezing and I could really use a cigarette. Let me grab a smoke and get some clothes on.”
“Okay, but you shouldn’t smoke, it’s stinky,” Sam said.
“Can you smell anything now that you’ve, ah, passed on?” he asked, slipping across the hall to the other room.
“No, I guess not,” she giggled. “That doesn’t make it okay to do though. It still kills.”
“You’re starting to sound like my wife.” Louis said while getting into a tank top and jeans. He snatched up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on his way out.
“She’s dead like me isn’t she?” Sam asked
“Yeah. I’m afraid so. She died a couple of days ago,” Louis said when he returned to the bathroom. “How’d you know?”
“I think I’m a good guesser too,” Sam said bashfully.
Louis lit a cigarette and leaned back against the bathroom sink. “Do you think you can answer some questions for me? It would help me stop your daddy from hurting anyone else.”
“I can try. Trying is always good to do,” Sam said. “My mommy told me to always try my best, then it doesn’t matter what else happens. I miss her so much.”
“I’m sure she misses you too. How old are you Sam?” Louis asked.
“I’m seven.”
Sadness overwhelmed Louis. He felt anger too, but held it in check. It took a great deal of will power to do it, because Sam reminded him of Stephanie, and he didn’t know what he’d do if anyone ever put their hands on her in a bad way.
“I need to know about your mom and what happened when she left.” Louis asked, knowing it would be a very difficult question for the little girl. She probably had no idea her mother was dead, or if she did know, she wouldn’t admit it to herself.
“One night she got in a big fight with daddy over something. I know because it woke me up.” The girl’s voice suddenly shuddered with sobs. “I got off the bus from school the next day and daddy told me she left us.”
“Did he tell you why?” Louis asked.
“No. He said if he told me it would hurt my feelings and I’d cry. He said he cried himself, and then got so mad after she left that he tore up the garden because mommy loved the garden so much.”
Louis deduced that Samantha’s father killed his wife when she found out he was molesting their own daughter as well as other children. She was probably threatening to go to the police unless he got “help.” It was typical. He buried the poor lady in the garden, than killed his daughter to complete the picture. It would look as if his wife left and took their daughter with her. It was a perfect alibi. Since then he’d probably killed a few others. Eventually he would move on to another town and begin anew under a new name.
Louis had found the killer that John Tindili was looking for. The only problem would be proving what he knew. He could never explain how Samantha had told him everything and not end up doped up and wearing a jacket with funny sleeves in a padded cell.
He dreaded the thought, but the time had come when Tindili would find out the truth about him and there was nothing he could do about it.
“Sam, I need to make a few phone calls. I have a friend here that can keep you company for a while though. Let me get him.” Louis stuck his head in the hallway and called out to Bruce. In a moment the bird was flying toward him.
“Sam, this is Bruce,” Louis said, gesturing to the raven that had perched on the shower curtain rod. “Bruce, this is Samantha, she’s come to visit us. She only seven, but she acts just like a big girl. Can you keep her company for a while?”
Bruce cackled and nodded.
“He says he wants coffee,” Sam said giggling. “He’s a funny bird, Louis.”
“You can understand him?” Louis asked.
“Uh huh. Louis why didn’t I go to Heaven yet?”
Louis’ felt his blood run cold at the sound of the little girl’s words. Not since Diane’s death had he been so close to tears.
“You will honey, I promise. Before I leave you and Bruce alone, I just need to know one more thing. Can you talk to your father the way you talk to me?”
“If I try real hard I can. I did it once before, but he screamed like he was scared of me so I didn’t try anymore.”
“Good. What’s your daddy’s name?” Louis asked.
“Harry Gold. Like the color gold,” she replied. “It’s easy to spell.”
“Bruce, I just found out another thing I can do that I didn’t know about,” Louis said gesturing to Sam’s shadow before stepping out of the bathroom. “I should start making a list.”
He went downstairs to the kitchen and called John Tindili. Louis could tell he woke him up just by the amount of rings before the phone was answered.
“John I’m sorry I woke you but it’s an emergency. I think I found a way to wrap up the serial case you’re on,” Louis began.
“What the hell are you talking about, do you realize what time it is?” Tindili said with an annoyed yawn. “You don’t even know anything about the case.”
“Right now I think I know more than I want to,” Louis said, noting that the sun was beginning to rise. “Just hear me out, okay?”
“Oh Christ, you woke me up for this?” Tindili muttered.
“Look, I just got a tip that opens everything up if we can act now.” Louis put out his cigarette and sat down at the kitchen table. “One of the kids that got killed was named Samantha, only you haven’t found her body yet.”
“What? There were three girls. All age seven, from the same school. The only Samantha I know of was taken out of the school when her parents split up a couple of months ago,” Tindili said, yawning. “We questioned everyone from the class already.”
“I’m betting that the murders took place right after Samantha was taken out of school, right?” Louis said.
“So? That doesn’t prove anything.” Tindili sounded annoyed.
“I bet no one’s heard from Samantha or her mother since, right.”
“Yeah. We’ve been checking Harry Gold out, her father, but he keeps coming up clean. He doesn’t even have a traffic ticket on the record. He said his wife left him and didn’t want any contact. She took their daughter with her. There’s no law against that unless he wants to pursue custody or visitation. Even if he wanted to, that wouldn’t be something we’d be getting involved in. That’s for Social Services and the courts.”
“Gold’s behind it all,” Louis said in a rush. “First, his wife and daughter, then, the other three girls. He’s not done yet either.”
“That’s one hell of a tip you got if it’s legit. Who’s the informer and will the person testify?” Louis could hear Tindili get out of bed. His wife Cindy was muttering something in the background that he couldn’t make out completely, but it didn’t sound nice.
“I don’t think that will be necessary, John. We have to get a warrant for Harry Gold right now though, and we have to get a crew to dig up his garden. I’m betting his wife’s body is there, maybe even Samantha’s. I’m sure I can get him to confess to killing at least both his wife and daughter, I just need you to let me talk to him alone right away.”
“You’re crazy,” Tindili said. “What’s the rush? A few hours won’t make a difference.”
“It’s important that it ends tonight. I can’t explain right now, but I will, trust me,” Louis said urgently. He needed Gold to confess so Samantha could move on in peace. He couldn’t bear the thought of Sam being trapped on earth another day.
“I’ll have to call in some heavy favors, but I think I can arrange it. You’d better be right about this though. My neck is going to be on the chopping block. You’re technically not working now. Nobody does this kind of thing this early in the morning unless it’s a major emergency,” Tindili warned.
“It is. Trust me,” Louis replied.
“I’ll make the calls and get a warrant. There are going to be some angry tired people, but at least we’ll be able to get the warrant. I‘ll pick up the papers on the way to his house. Do you know the address so we can meet there or do you want to meet at the station?”
“I’ll meet you at his house within the hour. If I get there first I’ll meet you outside. I won’t be carrying and I promise not to make a move until you get there. Thanks for having faith in me. I won’t let you down,” Louis replied, shutting the phone off. He left the kitchen and ran back upstairs to the bathroom.
“Sam, I need you to go back to your house,” he said.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because I need you to talk to your dad in front of me. I need you to tell him how much it hurt that he touched you. I need you ask him about your mom, and not give up until he tells the truth. Tell him how much you miss her, too. Can you do that for me?” He knew he was putting a lot on her, but he was almost sure she would agree to do it.
“You think he killed my mommy too, don’t you?” Sam asked timidly.
“Yeah, I do. I need him to admit it. That way, he’ll be sent somewhere and never be able to hurt anyone again,” Louis said. “It has to end, and then you’ll be able to move on.”
“He makes me so mad! I didn’t want him to touch me, but he did anyway!” Sam said. The candle began to shake on the counter. “He lied to me about mommy too!”
Suddenly the shower curtain was torn from the hooks that held it up and flung across the room. Bruce quickly took to the air and landed on Louis’ shoulder.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Sam cried. “I didn’t mean to do that, but I can’t help it.”
Louis watched the tiny shadow of the girl curl up into a ball in the corner.
“It’s okay sweetie, it’s not your fault,” Louis said. “None of this should have ever happened to you in the first place. You don’t deserve any of it. If there was a way for me to go back and fix things I would, but I can’t. I’m doing all I can.” Louis shook his head angrily at the thought of such an innocent little girl being hurt. “What’s your address?” he asked. Samantha told him, and he grinned. “You’d better leave now. I’ll meet you there with a friend of mine.” Louis said. “His name is John Tindili. He’s a cop, like me. Everything will be fine, you just have to be brave.”
“Is Bruce coming too?” Sam asked. She sounded excited.
Louis thought about it for minute, and decided there was no reason why he shouldn’t bring Bruce. He smirked when he thought of the raven as his new “partner”.
“Yeah, he’s coming along for the ride,” Louis said. Bruce cackled approvingly.
He saw Samantha’s shadow fade to nothingness, and smiled. “It feels good to know that she’ll be able to rest soon. There’s no way I’ll be able to cover this up to John. He’s going to know something unnatural is happening, but I can’t think of any other way to do this.” Louis’ shoulders slouched and he shook his head. “Nothings going to be the same between us again. I hope it doesn’t cost me his friendship.”
“Let’s get out of here. We can’t be late now, can we?”
Louis grabbed a leather overcoat on his way out the door. The hazy orange of the rising morning sun struck his eyes like a sledgehammer. He squinted at his car and fumbled for the keys for a moment, then laughed out loud. Bruce landed on his shoulder and cackled.
“Bruce, I’m not driving there. We’re going to try something new, and I don’t mean a ride in a taxi.” He turned and walked back into the house. “If I’ve got this power now, I might as well start using it. I might need it someday.”
“Shadow, I need you,” he whispered, standing in the dim lit doorway. The dark reflection of himself cast on the floor and partly on the wall suddenly turned solid. With uncanny elasticity it swung itself up and stood right in front of him. Louis recited Samantha’s address. The shadow widened and enveloped Louis and Bruce in blackness.
After a split second of bitter cold, Louis blinked his eyes and found that he was suddenly standing in front of Samantha’s house.
Bruce ruffled his feathers and cackled loudly.
“Yeah, that was cold but cool,” Louis said with a grin. He lit a cigarette and sat down on the curb. “At least there are some advantages to being who I am. It’s going to take a while to get used to it.”
A few minutes later Tindili pulled up in an unmarked car. He looked tired and disheveled in his rumpled dark trench coat, but Louis saw a sense of relief in his eyes as he got out of the car and approached him.
“How’d you get here?” Tindili asked, looking around for his car.
“I took a cab,” Louis replied. “I thought it might be a little more discrete, at least until you got here.”
“I see you brought your ‘friend’,” Tindili said, holding out a manila envelope and shaking Louis’s hand as he stood. “I’ve got the warrant. I’ll just tell him we’re here to search the place. I won’t mention anything about an arrest until you get him to confess. I don’t know how you’re going to do it, but I hope to god it works,” Tindili added. He looked nervous. “Let’s go in.”
Louis nodded and tossed away his cigarette. He followed Tindili up the narrow stone walkway to the front door of the house. He was so nervous himself that the muscles in his knees trembled. It felt as if he was a rookie on his first case.
He forced himself to think about the horror Harry Gold caused and the trembling changed into a shudder of rage. The thought of a woman and innocent children being murdered made the blood rush to his face. He brushed at Bruce and pointed to the iron railing on the porch. The raven flew off of his shoulder and landed on the top railing.
“I need to get the guy into his daughter’s room. It’s important that we’re alone,” Louis said quietly.
“Why?” Tindili asked, smiling wickedly. “You into stuffed animals and dolls now, or do you just want to work him over a little bit?”
“It’s nothing like that. I’ll explain later, trust me, he’ll confess when he’s there,” Louis replied. “Things might get a bit strange, maybe even loud, just ignore it. He’ll confess. I’d stake my career on it.”
“You know, when the psych division gets a hold of him they’re just going to say he’s sick.” Tindili was frustrated.
“Sick? Sick is coughing and sneezing. What this guy did, he did knowingly and willingly. There isn’t a person alive that hasn’t watched television enough to not know right from wrong. Even cartoons show that. He deserves everything he gets.”
“Now that’s the Louis I know,” Tindili said as he rang the doorbell and knocked lightly at the same time. He had a hand on the pistol concealed in the shoulder holster under his coat when he heard someone come to the door.
The lock made clicking sounds and than door flung open abruptly. The man behind it was clad in a T-shirt and boxer shorts, still wiping the sleep from his eyes while he slipped on a wrinkled robe. He looked to be in his early forties, with short gray hair and a slight build.
“Harry Gold?” Tindili asked. The man in the doorway nodded.
“Yeah, what do you want?” His eyes were barely open.
“I’m Detective John Tindili, this is my partner Detective Louis Darque. We’ve got a warrant to search the premises.” He held out the manila envelope and gestured toward Louis. “My partner would also like to ask you some questions.”
“C’mon in.” Harry Gold nodded and opened the screen door to let them in. He took the envelope from Tindili and slid out its contents.
“It’s all there in writing. The search is just a formality,” Tindili assured him.
“I’ve already spoken to the police,” Gold said.
“I’m sure,” Louis said dryly. “We’re just covering all bases.”
“Okay,” Gold nodded with a grunt.
“You told the police your wife left you,” Louis asked casually. “Let me confirm some things. Did she leave a note or anything?”
“No. We got into an argument the night before about me working too much. I sell insurance, and I’m on the road a lot,” he said casually. “She told me she was leaving, I just didn’t expect it to be the next day.”
“Insurance, huh?” Tindili said caustically. “You have a policy on your wife?”
“No. I sold it, I never bought it,” he said angrily.
“I’d like you to bring me to your daughter’s room,” Louis said to Gold. “We can talk there some more while I look around. My partner will be searching down here.”
“I promise not to make a mess.” Tindili said sarcastically.
Louis winked at Tindili and followed Gold upstairs.
“Pardon the clutter,” Gold said, walking into the small room. He flicked on the light. “My wife packed things up real quick, as you can see. I haven’t had a chance to put things away.”
“No problem.” Louis walked into the room and a sigh escaped his lips that sounded like an angry hiss. He looked around and saw the stuffed animals, dolls and other toys strewn about the room. There were enough clothes lying around to give the impression that a laundry hamper came to life and puked all over the floor.
The look of the room just added to the despair and anger Louis felt. He felt Samantha in the room, and picked up on her building rage. It was the only warmth he could feel in the house, like the candle in his bathroom a short time ago.
“I don’t think we’ll be needing the light on,” Louis said flicking the switch off. “I’m really not here to ask you anything. I just wanted to tell you how much your daughter loved you.” He felt his eyes turn red. He could see clearly in the darkness, and watched Gold turn around to face him nervously. The red glow of his eyes focused on Gold like twin spotlights.
“Your eyes!” Gold shouted. “What the hell is going on? Jesus Christ!” He tried to run out of the room, but Louis held out his arm and stopped him.
“Leave him out of this. You’re not going anywhere yet. Your daughter has some things to say to you.” Louis pushed him back into the room. Gold stumbled and fell, landing flat on his back. “She wants to tell you how special you made her feel. Don’t you Sam?”
The room began to shake. Toys and clothes lifted into the air and flew across the room. Some of them landed on Gold, who sat and covered his head with his arms.
“Why did you hurt us Daddy?” Samantha’s voice echoed throughout the room as if it were coming from the walls. “Why did you kill us?”
Samantha’s shadow took shape in the room. It grew and loomed over her father like a dark cloud of hatred. Gold began to scream.
Louis stepped out of the room and slammed the door shut. Calmly, he walked down the stairs and approached Tindili.
“Now all we have to do is wait,” he said, with an angry grin. “It’ll be over soon.”
“What the hell is going on up there?” Tindili said, clearly angry and confused. “He’s screaming bloody murder.”
“He should be, his daughter’s yelling at him.” Louis said, lighting a cigarette.
“But I thought you said she was dead?” Tindili asked.
“She is,” Louis replied. He turned and walked away, exhaling a cloud of smoke.v
“You’re crazy Louis!” Tindili shouted, exasperated. “I’ve got a crew coming down here to dig the garden up in the next hour, and you’ve got the suspect locked up in his daughter’s bedroom talking to her ghost! Is that what you want me to believe?” He grabbed Louis’ shoulder and flung him around to face him. “Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?”
Suddenly they heard the door to Samantha’s room burst open.
“I killed them!” Gold shouted, stumbling down the stairs. He staggered toward them and grabbed onto each to hold himself up. “I killed my daughter! My wife too! There are others, I’ll tell you everything, I swear! Get me out of here!” His eyes were wide with fear, and his breath came in short, rushed gasps. Sweat dripped from his face and had soaked through his shirt. He smelled like urine.
“What the hell just happened here?” Tindili shouted angrily.
“I just told you,” Louis said, pulling away from them. “He confessed, just like I said he would when I called you. I’m sorry that things look a little crazy, but that’s the way it is. It’s over. Things worked out for the best.”
“You’ve got a lot to answer for, I hope you know that,” Tindili cautioned.
“I know. When you finish up, call me or just come over. I’ll explain everything as best as I can. I assure you, it isn’t going to be easy. Now, since I’m not officially here, you’d better read him his rights.” Louis flung his still burning cigarette at Gold. “Personally, I can’t stand looking at him anymore without wanting to puke my guts out.”
He walked out of the house and nodded to Bruce. The raven swooped off the railing and returned to Louis’ shoulder.
“Well, for good or bad, it’s done. I guess the time to tell Tindili came sooner than I expected,” he said to Bruce. “Now I have to think of a way to explain things to him without being reported as a psycho.”
He stood in the shadow of a tree outside Samantha’s house as the sun made its final morning cry. The light wind tossed at the bottom of his black overcoat, causing it to flap like some ungodly pair of wings. Louis suddenly realized that he felt completely at ease. It was as if there was a sense of closure, and it wasn’t with the case or Samantha, but because of it. Being able to help her snapped him out of the numbness he was helpless against. The helplessness of watching Diane die in such an agonizing way. He was far from fine, but close enough to okay to know that he could carry on.
With Bruce on his shoulder, he called for his shadow and returned home. There was a stillness in the house that sent a cold chill up Louis’ spine, but he reminded himself that he felt that way because Diane was gone.
He sat on the couch with a strong cup of coffee and contemplated his next move. He needed to outline a plan for himself, a set of goals to keep him in a healthy state of mind.
Louis concluded that he couldn’t work for the police force anymore, because of a combination of things. His father, for one, could cause a lot of unexplainable trouble. His newly discovered “gifts,” like being able to communicate with restless spirits was another.
That didn’t mean he had to stay entirely out of the field. He’d decided to get a private investigator’s license and continue working that way. Louis had no need of money, but if other lost souls continued to seek him out, he could at least help them in that capacity. He could also help solve crimes that Tindili and the rest of the force couldn’t, the kind of crimes that weren’t talked about because they were so odd.
In the meantime he wanted to move into his brownstone. At least for the time being, he needed to stay there. The memories of living in the house he shared with Diane were constantly flashing through his mind. They troubled him too much to stay there. He needed to get away from everything and explore who he was without the constraints of added pain the intimacy of the house caused. Knowing that the house would always have a part of his heart in it, he knew he’d move back eventually. Since he didn’t have to worry about aging, it wasn’t as if time was a concern.
Hours passed, with Louis doing things to clean up just to occupy his time until he heard from Tindili. By late afternoon, he finally noticed that he was hungry. There was nothing in the refrigerator that wasn’t spoiled, so he settled on making himself some chicken soup. It was the only thing in the cupboard that hadn’t passed the expiration date yet.
He had just finished eating when he heard a knock at the front door, and knew it had to be Tindili. When he answered the door, he saw his partner with a very tired drawn look on his face, but a satisfied look at that.
“We got him!” Tindili said with dark circles under his eyes and clenched fists. “You were right about everything.”
“C’mon in. I’ll get you some coffee. You look like you can use it.” Louis walked him into the kitchen while Tindili continued to tell him the details of the day.
“The crew found two bagged bodies in the garden. They were cut up pretty bad, but by the afternoon we had a positive ID on them as Samantha and her mother, Anne.” Tindili sat and began to sip at the mug of black coffee that Louis had set down in front of him. “Gold confessed to everything. He was singing like Elvis, sounding nutty as a fruitcake, claiming his daughter came to him from the grave and made him confess. A ghost, can you believe it? The psych crew is still working on him because of that. They thought he had such a bad case of guilt that he had to confess, and was just using his daughter as the means to justify it. That is, they thought that until he admitted to killing the other three girls. Now they’re not sure what to think. He’ll go through the standard tests, and if he’s deemed able to, he’ll stand trial. Though there won’t be much of one with him being so open about what he did.”
“Either way, even if he’s locked in a padded cell until he dies, he’ll at least be off the streets and not be able to hurt anyone again,” Louis said, sitting across from Tindili.
“Yeah. Now, about what happened at the house,” Tindili began. “What did you do to him when you went upstairs? You told me you were going to explain everything.”
“Look, I really didn’t want to have to go into this. It’s like I said before, I really don’t know where to begin,” Louis said quietly. “It’s got to do with my father.”
Tindili looked puzzled, then skeptical. He pulled out a cigar and lit it.
“Yeah, you’re probably going to need that after what I’m going to tell you. Maybe even a beer and a shot,” Louis continued. “Samantha’s spirit came to visit me this morning while I was trying to soak in a hot tub. I couldn’t sleep with everything that’s happened, so I thought it would relax me. Well, she shows up and scares the hell out of me. After I screwed my head back on, I talked to her and she told me enough to understand what happened. That’s when I called you. We needed to resolve the murders as quickly as possible so that she could rest in peace. She wouldn’t be able to move on unless her father was brought to justice. At least that’s what she told me.”
Louis lit a cigarette and Tindili’s jaw was still hanging open.
“How do you expect me to believe any of this?” he said, taking a deep breath. “It’s crazy. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“What you saw during the viewing was real.” Louis willed his eyes to glow red, and looked directly at Tindili.
“Jesus Christ!” Tindili jumped back in his chair and nearly spit out his cigar.
“You need to accept what happened with Gold. It happened, it was real. He did speak to his daughter. You saw how he acted afterwards,” Louis said calmly.
“So that whole thing about your father being a-” Tindili paused, indecisive over what to say, or how to say it.
“He’s a demon. His name is B’lial.” Louis sat back and sighed. “He made himself known to me right before Diane died. He wanted me to do things for him in exchange for Diane’s life. He said knowledge of who I am would change me. It would unlock my demonic side and bring it out whether I wanted it to come out or not. I told him I didn’t want anything to do with him. He was pissed, said he’d come back to ask me again when I was thinking straight. That’s why my eyes were red at the viewing. The red eye thing, it’s one of the differences he was talking about. He stopped in at the viewing just to piss me off. I let my guard down for a second, and you saw it. Hopefully you were the only one. I didn’t want to lie to you afterwards, but obviously what I’m saying isn’t exactly easy to believe.”
“I don’t know what to say. What the hell-” Tindili went pale as he watched Louis’ eyes return to normal.
“There’s really nothing you can say. Just trust me enough to know that I’m not crazy,” Louis said. “You’re the only one that knows any of this, the only person I can trust, and I don’t want to regret confiding in you. I need your help move on from it all without having to worry about you talking to other people about it.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Tindili chuckled. “I won’t repeat a word of what you’ve told me, you can count on it. Who would believe me? I’d lose my pension in the loony bin, and you know how Cindy would feel about that.”
“You’re right,” Louis replied. “She’d kill me.”
“This is going to sound stupid, but, have you thought of just going public? You can prove what you are,” Tindili said. “Why not let the world know? What could he do to harm you or anyone else then?”
“I haven’t thought about it much, because when I do, nothing good comes to mind. The church would probably use me as a sideshow freak to prove that there is a god, and my father would probably kill a bunch of people to start a war with me,” Louis sighed loudly. “In a way, I’m trapped into staying quiet, and I think he knew that would happen. I thought about suicide, but B’lial informed me that I’m immortal. I’m not indestructible mind you, but immortal. There’s a difference. I can be hurt like anyone else, but I’ll heal as if nothing ever happened.” He held up his hand. “I put a cigarette out in the palm of this hand yesterday, and there isn’t even a mark there. I watched it heal myself. It was incredible. I could feel the skin pull together as the wound closed.
“There are other things I can do now that I couldn’t before,” Louis continued. “And there’s more I have yet to learn about. My father alluded to that too when he introduced himself. He wanted to be the one to teach me.”
“Well, don’t tell me anything else now, I still have to digest what you’ve said so far.” Tindili grinned. “I’m a little old to be taking in too much of this religious stuff all at once. It creeps me out.”
“Thanks,” Louis said sarcastically. He finished his coffee and stood up to drop the mug in the sink. “I have to quit the force. I’m counting on you to help me get a private investigator’s license so I can work out of my brownstone.”
Tindili nearly choked on his coffee. “What?”
“Like I said, with my father after me to work for him, and all these new crazy things I can do, quitting the force is the safest thing I can do right now.” Louis returned to his chair. “I don’t want to do it, but I have to. If I get my own license, I can still help people and not have to explain everything in a report that our boss is going to have to read. I won’t have to worry about my father hurting someone else close to me either.”
“What you’re saying makes sense, if everything is true.” Tindili rubbed his forehead and shook his head. “But that also means I’m in danger as well as any one else around you.”
“You’re absolutely right. I have to keep a distance from people, including you and Jean, and anyone else I would normally have regular contact with,” Louis said. “He could use anyone against me. I might just have to become somewhat of a hermit.”
“Isn’t there a way to stop him? A cross or holy water or something?” Tindili asked, feeling foolish for rattling off things he saw in an old horror movie.
“Not that I know of yet. I need to do some research on him, me, and everything having to do with the situation. There’s got to be something, some kind of weakness I can exploit to make him leave me alone,” Louis said. “I just need time to find it. That’s my ultimate goal. I’ve got to find a way to destroy a fallen angel, a demon that’s been around for eternity.”
“Whoa, now that sounds insane,” Tindili said.
“Ya think?” Louis grinned. “I’m going to need help on getting my license. Can you pull a few strings? You rank higher than anyone else these days.”
“If you want my help, I’ll do what I can, I guess.” Tindili was silent for a moment, thinking deeply. “You’re still Louis, my friend and partner. I’ll always think of you that way no matter what happens. Your reputation as a cop should make everything run pretty smoothly.”
“Even though we’re living in what amounts to be a low-budget horror movie?” Louis added, laughing. “I feel more myself now, like I’ve finally gotten a handle on things a little. Helping Samantha actually helped me sort things out a bit for myself. I’m not as miserably numb as I was before.”
“Now that everything is out in the open, what’s with the bird?” Tindili asked. “Can you be honest?”
“He’s actually got a human soul. B’lial gave him to me as some sort of pet. I know it sounds funny, but we get along really well. My father has hurt both of us, so we have that in common.”
“I hate to leave at a time like this,” Tindili said, looking at his watch, “but it’s late, and I really need to get home and get some rest. Cindy’s probably waiting with dinner, it’s cold by now. I’m guessing she’s still pissed about last night. I haven’t been home or even called since I left. It’s been a very long day, and tomorrow doesn’t look to be any easier. There’s been another homicide on the waterfront. Homeless guy. He’s another one that looks torn up. They’re checking all the zoos to make sure nothing escaped. Personally, I think it’s a pack of wild dogs. They get around in the slums these days, too many strays.”
“I understand. For the time being, I need you to stay away from me. Keep in touch by telephone if you have to. I can’t take the chance of my father trying to get to you until I can come up with a plan.” Louis stood up and shook hands with Tindili.
“I’ll give you a call in the next couple of days to keep you posted about Gold and what I find out about getting you a license.” He turned and walked out of the kitchen. “Don’t get up, I’ll show myself out.”
Louis heard the front door close and hoped that he hadn’t lost his closest friend. The thought of losing someone else close to him added to nagging feeling that his life had become a living hell.
Part 5It was late March when he finally stepped through the iron gates. Over a month had passed since the funeral, and up until that morning, he hadn’t had the heart to travel there; couldn’t bring himself to go. It was different when he took his annual trip to his mother’s grave, which had become a routine. His mother wasn’t his soul mate.
Louis felt ashamed for not being there sooner, but it was a start. It was a little step in the direction of living again, in the direction that he needed to be traveling in order to survive and keep his sanity.
The headstone was new. It had her name on it and shined in the polished brilliance that can be given to cold stone in the cruel light of day. Louis stared at it and felt his face grow numb. He couldn’t even grin. His mouth had forgotten how to move without the light touch of her lips to occasionally charge them with life. There was no such thing as misery anymore, just breathing and trying to think.
His vision narrowed and all he saw was her name, the deep grooves in the stone that were supposed to explain who she was. He didn’t realize it at the time, but he’d knelt down. His hands opened and silently reached out, then pulled back because there was no comfort in touching nothing but dead air.
The feeling began in the back of his neck. It was a deep pressing sensation, as if his throat was being squeezed. Suddenly he felt pain build up behind his eyes, and then the tears fell as if they were always there, just waiting for the perfect moment to make their warm presence known. A second later his breathing became a series of shuddering sobs. There was no longer a possibility of holding back the emotion locked away. It was as if the feelings were alive, and controlling his body was their way to continue living, their only way.
Louis could do nothing but pound an empty fist into the ground and hate himself for needing his wife enough to wish he’d accepted B’lial’s offer. At that moment, he thought it would have been the better choice, because he wouldn’t have to stand in front of a gravestone. It was a selfish thought, but he didn’t care.
He hated himself for feeling relieved that her suffering had ended and he could do nothing about it but stare at his own white knuckled fist. Slowly, he stood and again prayed that it was all just a nightmare, but he knew it wasn’t. He’d wake up in the morning again and turn to see the empty spot that his life had become and feel the tears call out to him.
“I love you always,” He said quietly. It was the only phrase he knew how to say. The only one he understood in the insanity that his new everyday life was. Sometimes it was the only thought in his head as he went through the motions of existing. He’d watched days pass by without even realizing it. There was no night and day, just time.
Louis left the cemetery feeling utterly lonely, but stubborn enough to think of tomorrow as a challenge. A horrible challenge. The loss of numbness that he’d been experiencing meant that he would begin to feel things that he hadn’t allowed himself the luxury of feeling before. Which included the pain of losing a loved one and not having a family or any type of support system to fall back on. His support system consisted of a telephone and a raven possessed by a human soul. If it wasn’t his own reality, he knew he would laugh at the humor of it all. Mourning in such a manner was something he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. Except for his father.
In the month that had passed since Diane’s death, he had begun to find out what everyday life entailed while living alone with only Bruce as a companion. It wasn’t an empty existence, but an uncertain one, as uncertain as finding a reason to get out of bed in the morning was sometimes. Louis had forgotten himself; what he liked, what he did for fun. He searched himself but those forgotten parts eluded him.
He had resigned from the police force with little fanfare and with help from Tindili in completing the paperwork, he was able to obtain a private investigator’s license with relative ease. Those two events, with the paperwork filed in triplicate and signed enough times for his hand to hurt, were the simplest things he’d had to do in a long time. He was even happier when Tindili informed him that Gold had been locked away for life in a hospital for the criminally insane. He was glad to know things worked out, that he was able to make a difference even if it was only in the lives of the dead.
The most difficult thing he’d done was to begin packing in order to move out of the house. He crated away much of Diane’s things, reliving every moment of their life together with each box he filled. Sometimes it took an entire afternoon just to fill one. It was a painful process, but once he’d begun, he promised himself he would finish. He’d started to slip in and out of depression, but he knew enough to expect it. It was healthy even though it hurt.
By the time he filled boxes with memories and necessities for himself, another month had passed. He felt strong inside, but it was a daily struggle, and the showers of dreary April didn’t help matters. Nightmares were more selective when they troubled him, and they no longer included Diane. They were mostly about his father.
His father was indeed always in the back of his mind. There wasn’t a day that passed without him looking over his shoulder, watching, waiting, for B’lial to make an appearance. Though he hadn’t seen the demon since the morning after Diane’s death, he knew it was only a matter of time before he showed up again to ask his ungodly question.
The early spring weather made the move to the city a pleasant one. He’d begun to feel excited about moving back into the old building, and looked to it as a positive challenge. He hadn’t lived there in a little over a decade.
The brownstone fell into Louis’s hands shortly after he turned eighteen. His mother left him the property and nearly a million dollars spread out in various accounts across the city. She was the sole heir to the small fortune that her grandfather, Jonathon, had accumulated from owning a coalmine during World War II. He’d sold it after the war and built the brownstone shortly after, where he retired.
The building was situated on a corner lot, across from a burned-out church and next to an abandoned building. The dilapidated condemned church seemed appropriate considering whom he was related to. He wondered if B’lial had anything to do with it being burned down to begin with. Louis imagined that the area must have been quite a sight when the buildings were new.
The outside of the brownstone was well-kept and clean of graffiti. Louis had been strict about that when he hired the people that cleaned for him. They were to keep the outside as well as the inside as spotless as possible. He thought the neighborhood was bad enough without adding to it by letting the building fall into disrepair.
The building had three stories and a basement, with a fireplace on each floor. Louis had turned the basement into a gym after acquiring it. He used to love working out and keeping fit when he was younger. It certainly helped him when he was at the police academy. The basement was perfect for that because it was large enough, and he had full sets of Olympic weights, benches, and even some gymnastic equipment set up.
The first floor consisted of a mudroom, sitting room, a huge living room, a kitchen and dining room. His mother had long ago furnished the entire building in Victorian antiques. Louis didn’t appreciate the style until he was in his early twenties and had lived there for a while. There was a unique warmth to the designs of the furniture, even though some of the pieces looked oddly shaped. He loved the detailed woodwork and the iron wall sconces. At times, when a storm raged outside, he would just light candles and listen to the thunder and lightning.
The second floor consisted of four large bedrooms. They were paired off with each pair sharing a bathroom. There was also a laundry room on that floor. Louis always wondered why it was on the second floor, but resigned himself to the fact that he would at least not have to travel to a Laundromat. None of those bedrooms had ever been used in his lifetime. The third floor had the master bedroom and bath, a library with sitting room, and a den, which was adjoined to a stone balcony that stretched across the side of the building to end at the master bedroom.
Next to the building itself was an old two-car garage constructed of an iron frame and old shingled wood. Louis had set up one side as a workshop. He rebuilt an old MG there and that was where he stored it since moving out. The little car that sounded like a vacuum cleaner was his pride and joy before he’d gotten married, in mint shape by the time he was finished. He hardly ever used it out of the paranoid fear of scratching the red lacquer paint or getting into an accident. He currently thought that it was time to toss the fear away and enjoy his labor. He’d decided to use the car, even if it was merely to drive down the street to pick up cigarettes.
When Louis moved back in, he took Bruce around the brownstone, but in spite of the tour, the raven got lost several times. A homing pigeon he wasn’t, Louis decided. The humor in the bird’s disappearances helped him focus on the atmosphere of the brownstone. He was enthralled with the rich smell of the building and remembered how peaceful it felt to get lost in the library upstairs. There were books in it spanning from the early 1900’s to the late 60’s. He was certain that he could never read them all in his lifetime. Now he knew that wasn’t true, and looked forward to the challenge.
Months passed, and holidays came and went. They were the first real holidays that he had without Diane. Louis handled them better than he expected, but he couldn’t remember the last time Christmas passed without him getting a tree. He thought things were easier around that time because he was out of the house. If he was still there, he felt the memories alone would have sent him over the edge. The snow and cold weather didn’t help. He was still slipping in and out of depression, avoiding people, Jean, and John Tindili. He felt he had to, but it wasn’t easy. Until he came up with a way to protect them, as well as himself, he saw no alternative.
Periodically, he wanted to go out and jog, walk around the city and just look at things, but sometimes it was too much of an inner struggle to merely get out of bed and shower. The constant depression he felt did not lessen over time as he’d hoped. It had, in fact, gotten worse because it was not just Diane’s death that he grieved. It was also his own death, or at least the death of his normal life as a full-blooded human, the normal life of having casual relationships, friendships. Listening and talking to people for nothing but utter enjoyment, being out in the world just because he could. Solitude did not totally agree with him.
Louis found that ignorance was truly bliss, and he’d grown to wish he’d stayed ignorant about himself. His sleeping patterns had changed again, with him barely sleeping at all. He’d hoped that it was because he was physically not tired. After years of exerting himself everyday at work, he was used to it, and felt that without such activity he wouldn’t need sleep.
The problem came when, during the few precious hours of slumber that he did have, dreams become nightmares. He saw himself with red glowing eyes. At times sleep had become even more of a curse than being awake because he would see himself transform into a demon that resembled B’lial. By early fall, he had come to dread nights, and rarely slept until sunrise, from fear of the nightmares, which oddly enough, occurred less during the daylight hours.
Louis had begun to work out in the gym. He was determined to tire himself out enough to sleep through the night again and deal with his depression somehow. More times than not, it actually worked, and he woke feeling refreshed.
He considered going to counseling to sort out his mixed-up feelings, but his better judgment told him to avoid it simply because he couldn’t be totally honest with any therapist. Coming to terms with his newfound heritage was something he had to do on his own, unless he had a desire for a straightjacket.
B’lial told him that he was immortal, and alluded to his other demonic traits that set him apart from humanity. Louis set out to learn exactly what those traits could be, if for nothing else, to know who and what he really was, and the extent of any previously unknown abilities.
He inadvertently found that his senses were much more acute than they had been before. Especially his senses of hearing, sight and smell. He could hear a conversation on the streets from his den, smell the cologne the people had on and see them through a window as if they were right next to him. It was overwhelming at first, especially when he began to hear insects crawling around, but he learned to tune things out after a few days. It was all a matter of mental control. He treated his mind like a muscle when his extra abilities were concerned, in that he would exert pressure when needed, and only enough to handle any given situation.
While working out in the musty basement, Louis discovered that his strength was far beyond that of a normal human being when he desired it to be so. He felt the change in himself as if it was a switch being turned on or off at his command. The strength, when he called to it, was exhilarating, but it also scared him. He was able to dead lift what amounted to be a half-ton when he allowed himself to. He thought he could lift more, but the fear of dropping something on himself was too great. He doubted he would truly ever find his upper most limits. In a way, he hoped never to have to.
Being raised Catholic, he attempted to consult a priest to find out more about his dark side. He was disappointed to find that there was quite a bit of information about the union of angels and woman, called nephilim, and little or no information to be had about the offspring of demons and humans.
He’d actually gone into a confessional and tried to talk to a priest afterwards, but the gentleman wasn’t very forthcoming with information, in spite of the fact that their meeting was private. The priest sounded nervous, it was almost as if he knew things that he didn’t want Louis to find out about, so he remained silent during most of their talk. He later recommended that Louis seek professional help, and mentioned that there were many new drugs to help with chemical imbalances.
He decided to delve into the occult aspect of his bloodline on his own and searched through libraries and antique bookstores for any information available. There was a wealth of material, but he found it difficult to discern fact from fiction, if there was such a thing when dealing with religion and the occult. Sometimes it seemed that anyone with a vivid enough imagination and a book contract was suddenly an expert on Heaven and Hell. He didn’t know who was worse in that aspect, Pat Robertson or Anton LeVey.
Each religion, no matter what it was, included some type of angel and demon, and therein was the problem. There were so many different classes of demons, and each religion included their own, with their own set names and “rules”. They were all similar, yet different enough to boggle the most focused of minds.
According to Catholic teachings, demons were “pure” impure spirits. They were highly intelligent and self motivated. Their will was bent on evil, on corrupting and damning mankind, but the methods they used were singular and in some instances, remarkably creative. All their efforts were bent on improving their rank with their horrible Master, and increasing their hold on human souls. Human souls were kind of like currency in Hell, the more a demon had, the higher the status of the demon. Hence, why B’lial wanted Louis working for him.
Louis saw that B’lial, spelled in various forms, was listed in many of the books he searched through. He read that B’lial was a very high-ranking demon, one of three chief demons under Lucifer, and though many sins were under his power, he was supposedly in charge of causing wickedness and guilt. He hadn’t lied to him about that. Through it all thus far, Louis had found no way to destroy his father, or any other demon for that matter. There didn’t seem to be a defined method.
He began to frequent an old bookshop in the Village aptly named, “The Pit and the Pages”, a play on the title to Poe’s story. From the street, the shop looked small, but looks were deceiving, because though the shop wasn’t wide, it stretched far back. Louis walked in for the first time and was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer enormity of it. The scent of old books permeated the air and he suddenly felt comfortable, at home. Unlike libraries, which had few books on the occult, the shop specialized in the subject. He found things written about divination and talismans there that he’d never seen before.
The walls of the entire store were lined with shelves filled with books. Most of them looked ancient, and some of them were stored in glass cases. Upon closer examination, they were so old that they were hand written by monks. He looked at the price tags of a few of them and tried not to laugh too loudly.
The light throughout the shop tapered, so that the illumination was much softer near the back of the store. Browsers were definitely welcome, denoted by hanging signs, and since there were several tables in the back, customers could sit and read. A long table rested against the wall where a fresh pot of coffee was perpetually warming.
Louis found the store quite by accident while taking a walk late one December night. He walked in the next day and his eyes bugged out. He’d lose himself there for hours, thumbing through pages of texts on religion and fallen angels. He learned of their hierarchy and discovered that not one text seemed to have the same information concerning B’lial, though he was listed in each at least once.
It wasn’t a surprise when Louis read that the world was supposedly full of demons, with each having a specific function in creation. There was at least one demon for every sin, a fallen angel to counter every heavenly angel. Unfortunately, most fallen angels could prey upon humans simply because people allowed it, and were ignorant enough to not ask for help from a higher power. Louis guessed that it was easier for people to believe in evil than it was good. More people by far have seen “The Exorcist” than “The Ten Commandments.” Heston was good, but not that good. Humans could be so callow.
He caught himself with that mental statement, and realized that he’d begun to inadvertently classify himself as a being separate from the human race. He couldn’t allow that. At heart, he was a man, just like everybody else. B’lial wanted him to think that he wasn’t because it would be easier for him to work against humanity. It was the perfect tool to pry him away from his own life. In a way, he belonged to neither race, being split between them.
The entire subject of what he was had grown tiresome for him to think about. It was a complex thing, and he had no time for it, as frustrated as he was in searching for a method to destroy his father.
Late one January evening, while studying an old text on Etruscan Magic, Louis had succumbed to his frustration.
“Damn it!” he stammered loudly, slamming his book shut. He heard his words echo through the shop and cursed to himself quietly for being so loud. He was sitting in the back of “The Pit and the Pages”, trying to fathom a talisman or some other such object to possibly ward off his father. But they were made with such odd ingredients, and they were too general in their uses. “What good is something that just wards off evil?” he muttered, “Evil is everywhere; too general. I need something that will specifically work on a demon like B’lial.”
Suddenly Louis was overcome by the rich scent of vanilla. But it wasn’t just vanilla, there was a human scent mixed with it. It was sweet.
“Whew! It sounds to me as if you’re not finding what you’re looking for.” It was the woman from the front register of the store. He’d seen her every time he was there. She stood directly in front of him. Louis was so lost in the text that he hadn’t even noticed her until her scent was right on top of him. He resolved to be more careful in the future, considering it could have been his father that had caught him unaware.
He flipped his head up and looked directly in her eyes. “Sorry if I got a little loud. I’m not having any luck tonight. I just can’t get anything.” He didn’t realize how suggestive what he said sounded until he saw two young Goth girls pass by dressed in nearly something. Then he tried to hide the fact that he was blushing with his hands. It didn’t work.
“Don’t worry, I know what you mean,” she smiled. “It’s okay. I get that way myself sometimes. It’s easy to get caught up in research. Listen, I came back here to see if you needed any help. I’m Elizabeth Duffy. I own the bookshop.” She held her hand out to him. “You’ve been in here a lot lately, and you’ve been a great customer too, so I thought when I heard you, an introduction was in order.”
Louis looked at her, and saw that her aura was bright, which put him at ease. Her face was an olive-colored oval, with warm dark expressive eyes, a slim nose and wide smile. Dark glossy curls fell around the oversized shoulders of her weathered sweatshirt.
“I’m Louis. Louis Darque.” He stood up and shook her hand. “Thanks for coming back here and not throwing me out.”
“No problem. Well, like I said, need some help?” she asked, hooking her thumbs into the belt loops of her tattered looking jeans. “Maybe I can find you another book? What is it you’re looking for?”
“No, it’s okay.” He pushed himself back in his chair. “Thanks for the offer though, I may take you up on it at a later date. I think I’m just going to pack it in for the night and get a fresh start tomorrow. It’s been a long day, I think I need to step away from it all.”
“Well, I hope you have better luck next time,” she said. “If you ever need help, just ask. That’s what I’m here for.”
“Have a good night.” Louis stood up and shrugged into his leather overcoat, remembering how cold it was outside. He nodded to the girl on his way out of the shop and fumbled for his cigarettes in one of the deep pockets of his overcoat.
The frustration of his fruitless search for answers about B’lial stayed with him on his way to the car. When he couldn’t find a lighter or matches for his cigarette, he got downright angry.
“Damn it!” he shouted, and suddenly the end of the cigarette burst into flames. The shock of what happened caused him to drop it, and he cursed again, picking it up. He stared at the burning tip, and sighed. “Wow.”
When he got home that night he explained to Bruce what happened and tried to repeat the process. He found that if he concentrated hard enough, he could cause small objects to burst into flames. After the first headache came afterward, he wondered if it was worth the effort. Lighting candles and cigarettes with his eyes didn’t seem important enough to cause himself more pain than he already had in his life.
Later in the evening, while Louis studied the writings of an ancient text on fallen angels, private demons in particular, who preyed on individuals, the moment he dreaded came to pass. B’lial came calling.
At first the sound was a gentle tapping at the glass doors to his den. Louis dismissed the sound as the tap of a tree branch until he realized that there were no living trees around the brownstone. He quickly moved to the window and pulled aside the heavy drapes. His eyes widened in shock when he saw his father hovering in the air a short distance away.
“Son, we must have words,” the demon said in rasping tones. “Let me in so we can talk,” B’lial urged. Talons on his fingers made them look unnaturally long in the moonlight as he pointed at his son.
When the demon’s plea was met with no response, his wide mouth formed a grin. “I’m not here to hurt you. I can help you. I know you’ve been trying to find out about the power that is inside you. Let me in and I can tell you about it.”
Louis let his eyes focus on the creature that called himself his father. He thought of how much he hated the demon as he studied the narrow, wrinkled gray face, with its pointed chin and the tiny protruding horns on his forehead. Louis felt utter sadness and didn’t want to admit the creature was there. He pushed the rush of emotion aside and silently opened the latch on the glass doors. His eyes stared through the bulky shape that entered the room as if it weren’t there.
“I’m pleased that you’re willing to converse with me,” B’lial said. He turned toward his son and exhaled loudly, his wings relaxing slightly.
“My hands are tied, and you know it,” Louis said dryly. “I can’t stand the thought of you being here, but you have information I need, so I have to deal with you. At least, for right now.”
Louis walked to the other side of the room and lit a cigarette. He hadn’t realized his eyes were glowing deep red until he glanced in a mirror mounted on the far wall by chance. He knew they were the eyes of a stranger, and turned away, suddenly afraid of what lurked behind the unfamiliar stare.
“How’d you find me?” he asked the demon. “You pick up my scent or something?”
“Ah, you’ve found out what some of your physical gifts are.” B’lial said. “No, I’ve known about this house for many years.”
“You seem different,” Louis said. “More serious. Why the change?”
“I felt the need to be serious, to be more myself. As I explained when we met, this will be the only chance I get to truly speak to you, the one chance you’ll have without conflict,” B’lial smiled. “Besides, I got nowhere with you when we met.” The demon leaned back against the wall, and his wings relaxed enough to close slightly around him. He stepped away from Louis, still leaning and looked him over. “I need to know where you stand in the scheme of things, which side you’re on.”
Bruce suddenly flew into the room, landing on the desktop next to the typewriter. He craned his neck and stared intently at B’lial, cackling angrily.
“Be still or I’ll have you live out eternity as a housefly with the constant need to lounge in piles of steaming shit,” B’lial growled at Bruce.
“Haven’t you done enough to him already?” Louis asked.
“I’d better be careful not to step in the puddle of blood your bleeding heart is making on the floor,” B’lial said gruffly. He looked Louis over again. “I see you’ve let the hair grow some more. It looks good, but the beard, now that makes you look too much like the late J.C.” B’lial scratched his head in mock thought. “I’m not sure I like it.”
“How can you expect now to be any different then when we met? You’re still a wise-ass devil that has no business being in my life.” Louis turned his gaze to a thick candle that rested on a roll-top desk. He let his power lash out and the tiny wick suddenly burst into flame. “I’ve learned a few things about myself without you.”
“That’s a paltry parlor trick. You could have done more while you were still in the womb if I were around to teach you.” The demon laughed heartily. “And don’t think I didn’t find out about the way you helped that little girl either. We could have had her, ya know. It would have been your first mark for the Master. You would have found favor in his eyes.”
“If that’s all you come here to talk about-“ Louis said.
“I’m here with my question, knowledge, and I’ve also got good news.”
“What good news could you possibly have for me? You’ve made me into an eternal outcast, and I couldn’t even end my own life if I wanted to.” Louis’ eyes glowed even brighter. “Existence has been forced on me.”
“The Master has told me that you are welcome in the pits. You don’t have to stay here on earth, as I thought you would.” B’lial’s eyes widened. “You can do my bidding here, as needed, and have a home in a world where any desire is but a thought away. You won’t be an outcast there. You’ll be welcomed with open arms. All you need do is embrace your darkness. A far better existence than what you have here, with mortal physical boundaries.”
“You know I can’t do that. I won’t follow you. I don’t even know why you bothered coming back to ask me again,” Louis replied flatly. “My mind was made up then and it still is now.” He stared at the floor for a long time with eyes devoid of emotion. “Why did you do this? Why did you have to make me?”
“Why!” B’lial glared angrily at Louis. “Let me tell you something boy!” the demon tensed, as if he was about to spring at Louis. “I watched Adam take his first piss standing up! Mankind used to think I was Lucifer before that little Jewish errand boy got hung out to dry. I don’t have to explain myself to you!”
Louis’ jaw dropped. He had no words, no feelings. It was all just a sheer shock and fear that he didn’t know existed until that moment.
“Let me crawl inside your soul and bring you home.” B’lial said firmly, yet quietly. He held out his hand and slowly closed it into a fist as he spoke. “Together we can build an army of souls and raise Hell itself.”
“No. You ruined any kind of life I could have had,” Louis said with an angry hiss. “My mother went insane! I can’t even be around people because I’m afraid you’ll kill them. The only thing I have to be thankful for is the fact that you waited for Diane to die before you came to me. You didn’t ruin the life we had together by tainting it with your presence.”
“That’s true. And rightly so.” The demon grinned. “Here’s a bit of information for you. You wanted information, didn’t you? I bet you didn’t know your mother slit her own throat with a sharpened crucifix,” he said sarcastically. “She kept you protected though, with you growing up in all those damned holy schools with different foster parents for years at a time. I’m surprised she slipped and said what she said to you when she did, though drugs can make the tongue loose. You still wouldn’t have known true evil back then if it bit you on the ass.”
B’lial walked toward Louis and snatched the cigarette from his hand.
“I didn’t come here to fight you, boy,” the demon said. He puffed on the cigarette deeply, until it was burned to the filter, than swallowed it with a twisted grin.
“I’m here to help you. You, in turn, can then help me. I know all about you, the power that’s inside you. Anything you want to know about, all you have to do is ask, and it will be made known to you. You’re not alone in the world either, though you are better off.”
Louis stepped back and lit another cigarette. B’lial made everything sound so simple to him. He could be free of all the problems he’d been having if only he did B’lial’s bidding.
“Come with me for a time,” B’lial said. “I can teach you more about yourself than those foolish old texts you flip through ever could. Humans wrote them, so how true can they be? You don’t really belong here anyway. You’re not even a man.”
Louis looked down at his hands, than glanced in the mirror again. “Am I a demon?” he whispered. He remembered Diane’s smile, and the sound of her words when she said, “I love you.” Diane loved a man, held a man, not some twisted mockery that lived in Hell.
He looked over at Bruce then, and felt sorry for the poor soul locked in the small, feathered body. B’lial had done that to him for whatever reason, but it hadn’t stopped Bruce from being a man on the inside. B’lial was the demon. He was the one that didn’t belong.
“Get out,” Louis said benignly. He exhaled a thick cloud of smoke from a fresh cigarette and pointed at B’lial. “I’m not going with you. Not now, not ever. I’m a man, and I belong on this earth for as long as it will have me. The only thing you can truly teach me now is how to destroy you and your kind, how to rid me of your genetics.”
“You’ve made a big mistake,” B’lial said with a growl. “A mistake you’ll live a long time regretting.”
“No, I didn’t make any mistakes, but you did by coming here,” Louis said. He smashed out the cigarette in the palm of his hand and stared intently at his father. “I’ve learned enough about the laws of Heaven and Hell to know that all I have to do is tell you to leave, and you have to go. I have enough faith in God now. This is my home, and you’re not welcome in it. You’re not to ever return here, I won’t allow it.”
“You can’t deny me forever. I could strip you to bare bones where you stand and take your soul to the deepest pit to make you suffer for eternity,” B’lial threatened. His hands balled into fists and smoke trailed from his nostrils.
“No, you can’t. Don’t bother trying to lie. You said so yourself when we met, the Master won’t allow it. You can’t kill me, at least not now. Even if you tried, I wouldn’t go down without a fight. With my mixed blood, I might even beat you,” Louis said, with eyes that suddenly glowed bright red. He spit on the demon and smiled. “That’s for Mom.”
“You’re a fool. I’ll make you suffer forever in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine. You’ll never know a moment’s peace on earth until you come begging to me.” B’lial began to fade from sight. “I denounce you as my son, you foul bastard.” His image began to waiver, as if it were a hellish televised image growing out of focus.
“Don’t bother, you’re no father of mine!” Louis said angrily. He felt alive for the first time in months. A warm strength filled his entire being.
“I’ll meet you again soon, in a place where mere cowardly words cannot send me away. A place and time of my choosing,” B’lial said before he vanished completely.
Louis looked at Bruce and grinned sadly. “Well, that went over nicely.” He said sarcastically. “He mentioned that I wasn’t alone. What do you think he meant by that?”
Bruce squawked and shook his head.
Louis sighed deeply. He realized that ultimately his love for Diane had again saved him. It gave him strength when there was none. Silently, he thanked her for the time he’d had with her, and knew that he had a reason for living again, not just surviving. It would be easier to move on now.
Part 6Louis watched the sunrise the following morning as he got out of bed and felt refreshed. The night was a peaceful one. He slept restfully for the first time in months. After the conversation he had with B’lial, it was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He was relieved, in spite of the fact that he was standing against his father, a creature with unfathomable power.
He lit his first cigarette of the day, wiped the sleep from his eyes, and walked into the den. The room was completely dark. He stood in the center of the thick blackness and blew smoke rings around two of the largest flies he’d ever seen. They entered the room behind him suddenly, and had begun flirting through the air, doing stunts like a couple of Corsairs in the South Pacific during World War II. The flies buzzed closely to his ears while spouting curses at him in a language he didn’t even know he could understand until that moment. They made it clear to him that they were messengers from his father, sent to taunt him. Louis thought it was fitting. Such insects, in a biblical sense, could be controlled by demons, since Satan himself reined over all of earth’s vermin, and was referred to as the “Lord of the Flies.”
“He didn’t even send enough of you to annoy me,” Louis said quietly. He stared at the tiny creatures through the darkness and grinned.
Louis’ eyes abruptly narrowed on them and glowed as red as hot coal. Suddenly each of the insects burst into flames. He heard their death-cries in the back of his head and cursed himself for being able to understand them. Another new skill he didn’t want.
The familiar flutter of Bruce’s wings made Louis smile as the raven flew into the room. He flicked on a light and turned to face the bird.
“He’s sending flies after us now. We might have to get an exterminator if he starts sending other things, like rats. Breakfast? Coffee?” he asked with a soft yawn.
The raven squawked loudly and perched himself on the old typewriter he used to communicate with Louis. Bruce began his usual dance across the keys. His tiny feet quickly spelled out a reply on a blank sheet of paper loaded in the machine. It read:
NUN
“We’re out of coffee?” Louis asked, eyes widening with hostility.
Bruce nodded vigorously and cackled.
“Damn, I hate going out in public these days! Especially for groceries.” Louis winced as if he were in pain. “The stores around here don’t have a delivery service either. We should move to the country.” He sighed loudly, knowing he would have to make the trip or do without one of the few joys in his new life.
The thought of walking through a supermarket full of people gave Louis an angry chill. He’d avoided being around people as much as possible since becoming more adept with his dark side. It was too overwhelming to be in a crowd. There were so many things that he had to focus past. Auras, spirits not at rest, sounds, sights, scents; everything was so intense. Now on top of all that, insects were no longer just insects. He wondered if B’lial would send an endless cloud of flies to follow him around like the filthy puff of dirt that trailed Pig Pen in the old Peanuts cartoons. The image made him laugh to himself.
Bruce squawked again, which jarred Louis back to reality. He smiled at the impatient raven and lit another cigarette as a caffeine headache beckoned a throbbing pain into the back of his skull. He hadn’t realized how much coffee had become a necessity of his mornings. He enjoyed it too much for it to change.
“I’d better get going. The sooner I get this over with the better. There’s a supermarket open a few blocks away, want to go?” Louis asked, hopeful for the companionship.
Bruce nodded vigorously and quietly swooped over to land on his shoulder.
Unconcerned over how he looked, he ran his fingers through his hair, threw on a t-shirt and jeans. With Bruce flying low in the air close behind, Louis went downstairs and grabbed his leather trench to fight off the early morning chill before heading outside. He flicked away the cigarette and tugged his coat closely about him as he hit the streets. The fabric flapped closely together like the ungodly dark wings of some creature of the night. If he weren’t in such a good mood, looking as sinister as he did would have bothered him.
He knew he could’ve used his shadow to travel to the store, but felt that the walk was needed, if for nothing else just to smell the fresh morning air and stretch his legs. He’d long since learned to ignore the more foul scents of the city. His sense of smell was much easier to control than his sense of hearing. A simple squeal from the brakes of a truck could cause him to wince with a splitting headache if not blocked out quickly enough.
Bruce was firmly perched on his shoulder for the entire distance, and though the pair passed by some very unsavory people along the way, and met with unkind and surprised stares, they were not confronted aggressively and their walk was uneventful.
The raven flew off Louis’ shoulder when they reached the entrance to the grocery store. He flew up to perch on a nearby shopping cart.
“I shouldn’t be too long,” Louis called out, ignoring the people that walked by him, staring as if he were insane, talking to a wild bird. Bruce flew off and began to circle the immediate area. “We need some stuff besides coffee, but I’ll just get the bare essentials.”
The throbbing caffeine headache that began at his forehead and ended on the back of his neck had grown more intense, feeling like an extra heartbeat. He stepped through the sliding automatic doors of the store and was immediately hit with a rush of hot fetid air from an overhead vent. He shuddered imperceptibly, and felt slightly dizzy.
“I’d rather be cold than have that disgusting smelling heat as the sole source to keep a chill away,” he mumbled gruffly, knowing that no one else present could probably smell what he did. He toned down his sense of smell further and continued inside.
The front of the store was filled with produce. Louis could tell that much of the fruit was overly ripe or in some cases, rotten, but covered nicely in wax and coloring. He decided against getting any fresh fruit at the point, even though he craved a honeydew melon.
He quickly made his way to a high pile of plastic baskets, grabbed one and headed toward the frozen food section of the store. He had to duck around an old couple. They were pushing a cart in the center of the isle with the lightning speed of a crippled snail, looking around in amazement, as if they had never seen such a place before. He held back curses when he was nearly run over by a woman pushing a stroller with a baby in it as if it were a battering ram. She just completely ignored him and continued on, as if searching for a more willing victim. Her eyes were blank.
People seemed more scatter-brained and slow moving than usual, but Louis couldn’t figure out why. There was something unnatural about their blank stares; he could sense it. He also thought it was strange that he had yet to hear anyone speak above a whisper.
As he neared the refrigeration unit, his nostrils flared at the scent of freshly killed rat. There was a rattrap somewhere; a trap that was full and had been sitting that way for days. It was a powerful scent, and since it was so close to the fresh meat, it made him rethink buying ground beef. The entire trip had quickly turned into an utter waste of time.
The tiny scuffle of roaches in the ceiling met his ears, and he couldn’t help but laugh to himself. The insects were communicating more loudly than the people. They were waiting for darkness to hunt for food. It was a strange thing to understand that, and know that they were there. He found that they sounded much like homeless people, trapped in the streets and sewers, waiting for the cloak of darkness to mask their rummaging; to mask their survival. The automatic comparison, and the irony of it, annoyed him. He abruptly shut down his senses, and cursed himself for not remembering to do so sooner. He found it was too easy to lose himself in everything. Without realizing it, he’d traveled up and down the same isle three times.
“This just isn’t going to work today,” he muttered under his breath. He decided to just buy coffee, some crème and be done with it. He’d promised himself that he’d practice using his senses more so that he’d be able to handle routine things more easily.
Standing in the dairy section, he wondered how much of the crème and milk was actually rancid. He put the thought out of his head before he impulsively let his nose get the better of him, and grabbed a quart of half and half. It was then that he felt it.
It was a tugging sensation. Some unseen force was pulling on the back of his coat. He quickly twisted around, looked down, and let his eyes have sight from his dark side. What he saw caused him to recoil suddenly, and he nearly dropped his basket.
A tiny creature, with the body of a man and the head and hands of a mole, was firmly grasping on his coattail and tugging on it. The creature didn’t realize Louis could see him.
“Ah, now I can see what’s wrong with these people,” Louis said. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Startled, the creature let go of the coat and backed up with his hands in the air.
“You’re an Imp,” Louis said. “If my memory serves me, you’re a little errand boy of evil; one of the lowest orders of demon. You’re kind of like the opposite of a Guardian Angel.”
“I am Zax. I have no quarrel with you, Demonson,” The Imp said, nervously.
“You know who I am?” Louis asked.
“Yes, you are the son of powerful B’lial, who rules Philotanus, in whose control we fall under. Since you could not see us-“
Louis was surprised at the respect that he was regarded because of who his father was.
“You just thought you could mess with me as well as everyone else in the store as long as you could get away with it? Typical I guess. And what exactly was pulling on my coat going to do? Piss me off?” Louis sighed and leaned back against the glass door of the refrigerator. He wouldn’t allow himself to get angry. “I guess you guys aren’t known for being very bright. Philotanus?” Louis thought back to some of the texts he’d been reading. “He’s a second-order demon under my father. I guess he’s looking for a promotion by getting you guys to turn people into zombies.”
“By doing so they would annoy others when they left the store,” Zax said nervously.
“Oh, so now you’re saying they’d be walking the streets and driving around in cars as blank eyed zombies? Talk about the cause of road rage. How many of you are here?”
“A baker’s dozen. All we were truly seeking was blood, and there is plenty of that in this store with all the hacking of raw meat,” the Imp said, rubbing his hands together to stop them from shaking. He’d begun to sweat. “When we saw that there were people here to taunt-“
“Yeah well, the least you could have done was clean up the dead rats first,” Louis muttered. “Gather your little soldiers. I want all of them standing in front of me right now. And while you’re at it, make sure that no one can see us. The last thing we want is for human beings to be able to watch what we’re doing.”
The Imp vanished, to appear a moment later with thirteen other Imps. They lined up in front of Louis and were silent, but clearly afraid of his wrath. Each of them was sweating profusely.
“Well Zax, since you seem to be the spokesman, or at least the one with the biggest mouth you wanna explain why you’re all so afraid of me?” Louis said.
“You are the bastard son of B’lial, but you are half human and do not reside in Hell. We have been told that you are at war with B’lial, and that your strength is unknown. We remember what Goliath and his ilk were like, and though they were the offspring of angels before the fall, their power was incredible,” Zax said in a rush of words. “Greater than most demons.”
“Oh really?” Louis said. “So I guess you think I’m even stronger than they were, huh?”
“Boo!” Louis shouted in the Imp’s face. The little demon jumped back and grimaced.
It dawned on Louis that all of the Imps were sweating. His mind raced with possibilities. Demons, whether they were Imps or Satan himself, were never supposed to know fear. Their sweat could be a possible weapon against them. Louis called to his shadow, and asked for it to get him a glass jar and a tiny sponge.
“I want every one of you to wipe your sweat off with the sponge, and wring it out into the jar,” Louis said. “If you want to survive this little incident intact, you’ll do as I ask. If not, I’ll tear each one of you limb from limb and send you back to my father in a couple of zip-lock bags.” He spoke casually, and hoped they didn’t call him on his bluff. He had no intention of even touching the creatures, much less attempting to tear them to pieces. He needed to make a showing of force though, to make sure that they knew not to toy with him.
“I want all of you to undo what you’ve done here today. Leave the people as they were. If you seek blood, there are more than enough dead rodents lying around hereabouts.” Louis stared at them fiercely. “I don’t ever want to see any of you again. I don’t care where you go, but it had better not be around me. If you see my father, tell him to stay out of my city too.”
The Imps vanished in a flurry of smoke and flames. Suddenly the store returned to life. People were talking and milling about again as if nothing had ever happened. Annoyed with the situation, but satisfied that he was able to handle things, Louis grabbed a can of coffee along with the half and half and checked out at one of the front registers. His headache had gotten worse, and all he could think about doing was going home, but he felt good. Good enough to let his shadow return both he and Bruce home in the cold blink of an eye.
“You should have seen them,” Louis said to Bruce while making a pot of coffee. “I should have called to you or something so you could watch. It was funny really, seeing those little creatures cower as if I was some kind of fierce monster.”
Bruce made a noise that sounded oddly like laughter.
“The demon sweat is something I need to check out.” Louis poured the coffee and went up to his den with Bruce close behind. “I’m guessing that it could be a powerful weapon against them. It would make sense, since none of them are ever supposed to be afraid of anything, except maybe God. I wonder what would happen if I mixed it with Holy Water and spilled some on one of them?”
The raven typed:
FUN TRIP
LEARN A LOT
“Yeah, I seem to be picking up quite a bit of knowledge these days,” Louis said, nodding. “Maybe someday we’ll beat B’lial and turn you back into a human being again.”
Bruce typed:
NO BODY
IT DIED
JUST SET SOUL FREE
“So you’re saying B’lial made you immortal as well as a bird?” Louis asked.
Bruce nodded and squawked. He typed:
NOT IMMORTAL
BODY CANNOT DIE
FIND A WAY TO KILL ME
“I don’t understand. He made you indestructible?” Louis asked.
Bruce flew off the desk like a bat out of hell, picked up speed in a dive, and flew right into the far wall. He bounced down to the floor, but stood right up again as if nothing happened.
Louis didn’t know what to say. He felt sad for Bruce, more than before. He hadn’t realized that there was no turning back for him. The man’s soul was stuck as a raven with no way out besides death, and the ability to die had been stolen from him by B’lial. Stolen, along with every shred of real life.
“I’ll do the best I can to find a way to set you free. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that he made it so you’d be stuck like this for eternity. I’ve been so worried about myself, I’m really sorry. We’ve been in this together from the start, and we’ll find the end together. I promise.”
Louis stored the jar of demon sweat in a wall safe located behind a portrait in his bedroom. He hoped that if anyone ever broke in, they wouldn’t know what it was and would probably either leave it alone or throw it away.
After a brief workout in the gym, Louis cleaned the house up a bit because it sorely needed it. He noted that Tindili had left him a message on his answering machine. It wasn’t anything other than, hello, just checking in, but Louis didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t call him back. That would just make him want to see his friend again. He felt awkward, since it had been nearly a year, and he knew he shouldn’t get in touch with him. He didn’t feel that it was safe. Tindili had a wife and child. He didn’t want to see anything happen to them.
Louis returned to the “Pit and the Page” later that evening. He greeted Elizabeth, who was in the front of the store stocking some of the shelves. He’d grown used to seeing her there.
“There’s a fresh pot of coffee brewing,” she said as he passed by. “Yell if you need anything.”
“Great. I can use a shot in the arm,” he replied.
Louis got to the back of the store and began scanning the shelves for book about familiars, determined to find a way to help free Bruce. He succeeded in finding a book of witchcraft that included a chapter on familiars. There was a small section that described a demon called Put Satanachia. He was the demon that supposedly provided witches with their familiars. Louis needed to contact that demon, if indeed the demon existed, and was not just the fictional product of the book’s author. If Bruce was some sort of familiar, he might be able to persuade the demon to set him free.
He took an index card from the tabletop, jotted down the demon’s name, and slid it into his back pocket. When he returned home, if it was possible, he would work on a way of communicating with the demon.
“Keeping the shelves stocked is a full time job in itself,” Elizabeth said, walking to the coffee table. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“Yeah, thanks. I meant to get it a minute ago, but I got caught up in this book,” Louis replied. “This stuff is so interesting sometimes; too easy to get lost in.”
“Light and sweet, right?” she asked.
“Yeah, how’d you know?” Louis asked. He couldn’t help but notice the softness of her eyes when she approached him.
“It’s a gift.” She winked at him and brought him a foam cup. “Sometimes I think being around all these books has affected me.”
“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. “I certainly hope not. Most of what I’ve read so far is about evil things.” He smiled. “And I don’t think there’s anything evil about you.”
“There’s more than just information about that kind of thing here. Besides, knowledge is power.” She sat at the table with him. “What’s that old saying? Know your enemy. Isn’t the devil supposed to be an enemy? So the better we know him-”
“Yeah. You’re right,” Louis said.
“I talk to you all the time, and you’ve been here nearly every day for months, and I still don’t know what you’re looking for,” Elizabeth remarked. “In spite of the long hair and beard, you don’t look like the type that reads about divination and demons.”
“That’s a very loaded question. But, you of all people should know to never judge a book by its cover.” Louis laughed. “For all you know, I could be a serial killer looking for new ways to slice and dice my victims. I might even have a dog at home telling me who to kill and how to do it.”
“Naw. I figure you’re a cop or something like that though,” she said with a grin. “You remind me of the guy on that old cop show, what was it, Hillstreet Blues?”
“How do you do that?” He was surprised to the point of being annoyed. “I used to be a cop. Now I’m a P.I.”
“I was right?” she asked. Louis nodded to her. “I practice a little. I guess it works better than I thought.”
“Practice?” Louis asked.
“I know you probably think all of these books are a bunch of crap, but they’re not.” She leaned back in her chair and smiled. “I haven’t tried to conjure anything up, I’m not into anything that serious, but I work with cards, candles, and I’ve even rolled the bones a few times. Just a little white magic.”
“So you actually do some of the things that these books are written about?” he asked. “Has any of it worked?”
She nodded, looking slightly embarrassed. “I was right about you wasn’t I?” She smiled. “The cards and a few candles told me that a powerful man of divine law would be coming to see me. The light and sweet coffee thing was just a good guess. I drink mine that way.”
“Powerful man of divine law, huh.” Louis shook his head, not knowing what to say.
“It was a bit vague, but sometimes you have to read between the lines,” she said.
“I guess so.” Louis raised an eyebrow. “What else do you know about me?”
“The cards said something about a family problem. The final outcome hasn’t come up yet, though,” she replied.
“You’re starting to make me nervous,” Louis said. “This is just too freaky for me to deal with right now.”
“It’s no big deal. I look up a lot of customers just to see if it works. You’ve just been here a lot in the past few weeks, so you were easy to do.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Louis said.
“So you still haven’t answered me. What are you looking for?” she persisted.
“I won’t lie, but I can’t really be exact either. I’m doing some family research,” he said seriously. “It’s very private.”
“I was right again.” She smiled.
“Yep, a family thing, just like you said,” Louis replied, feeling uncomfortable. He wondered if B’lial was watching him talk to her. He was suddenly worried that she could be harmed just because she was talking to him. Close to him.
“Since you know so much about these things, do you think that sweat from a demon could be used against them as a weapon?” Louis asked, hoping to save himself some time looking it up.
“Demon sweat?” She squinted at him comically. “How’d you come across it? There are some vague things written about it, but I always thought it was just a myth. Demons don’t sweat.”
“I’m just asking, of course.” He leaned back and tried to sound convincing. “Hypothetically, if they did-“
“Yeah. It’s supposed to be powerful, stronger than holy water for some reason. It’s probably because they’re never supposed to be afraid. I bet if you mix holy water and demon sweat together, they’d make a hell of an explosive cocktail.”
“Do you think it’s strong enough to destroy a demon?” Louis hoped.
“I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever come across anything that really kills them. Maybe they can’t be killed, I’m not sure.” Elizabeth looked bewildered. “What do you hope to get from all this?”
“Here we go again.” Louis shook his head.
“I’m just curious. You don’t find many men interested in the unknown, unless they’re psychotic or some kind of goth freak.” She grinned at him warmly. “I never did ask you if you were single. I should have asked the cards.”
“Yeah I’m single, but only because my wife died last year.” Louis spoke quickly, without realizing the impact his words would have on Elizabeth. Her face went white, than red with embarrassment.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-’’
“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize,” he said cutting her off. “I’ve come to terms with it, and I know she’d want me to go on living, so I’m trying.” He smiled at her affectionately. “I’m very attracted to you, really, but right now my mind and heart are so far away from be able to feel those kind of things-’’
“I’d better get back to my shelf stocking and leave you to your research,” she grinned, still looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings in any way. I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay. I’m still getting used to learning how to do this thing called life all over again,” Louis assured her. “Maybe someday you can read my cards while I’m here. I could use some good news, or at least a good laugh.”
“Bet on it,” she said, returning to the front of the store.
Louis couldn’t help but smile as she walked away. He tried to hold it in, but it was a lost battle. There was a warmth that he’d begun to feel for her recently, but he had to deny it. He liked Elizabeth, and felt very flattered by her. They seemed to get along rather well, but he couldn’t allow himself to get any closer to her than he already had because of his father.
He forced himself to think about Bruce and his predicament and looked up some details about exorcisms in a standard Bible. He wondered if Bruce was like a troubled spirit, and possessed the body of a raven that B’lial had souped up to be indestructible. If that were the case, he could probably try an exorcism and if it worked, he’d be free. He’d be dead, but free forever.
When it was near to closing time, Louis purchased the book on witchcraft and went home, looking over his shoulder all the way. The thought of B’lial striking at him in some way had made him more than a little paranoid. He needed to get home where he was safe. B’lial could not enter his home unless invited, and that wasn’t going to happen, at least not from him.
Nick Kisella began his writing career in his late teens and has been published in various forms of media throughout his life. Currently he has begun writing for “Nifty Comics’, a California based comics company. His most recent credits can be viewed on: