“Not this morning."
"There's something very unusual about all this. It may be in your field."
He smiled and lifted his coffee cup. "Is the celebrated agnostic and skeptic acknowledging there's something she doesn't understand?"
"It's not funny, Marley. Something happened to me last night. It was like things were out of control. Like, well, like someone playing a cruel prank. Except there was no one there."
"I don't follow you," the minister said.
"Something I couldn't see, a force or something, dragged me through a pile of shattered glass. I say it was like a prank or joke because my ass took the worst of it."
"What?"
She recounted the events. "I had to go get stitches, and that was embarrassing. The techs at the emergency room kept snickering, and it hurt."
"Are you sure you didn't just stumble and sit down on the bulb?"
"I wish that was what happened. Are you turning skeptic now? I'm telling you, Marley, something dragged me. You're always talking spiritual warfare, give me answers.”
Her tone convinced him she wasn't in the mood for their usual banter.
If Althea—always the questioning one—was frightened, then something odd must certainly be taking place. Perhaps demonic activity was really at hand.
He swallowed, excitement tingling at the outer edge of fear. He had read about this phenomenon, had debunked false reports and had counseled a kids who had reported involvement in self-styled satanic activity. He’d always kept his mind open to possibilities, but he'd never been faced with real spirits or war with powers and principalities.
"We need go back and talk to them," he said. She could be in danger, and the child could be harmed even further."
"What can we do?" Althea asked.
"Demons can be rebuked," Marley said. "Men have authority over them."
"I didn't feel too authoritative last night," Althea said.
Marley nodded, realizing he was not as confident as his words. Jesus had cast out demons, but while he himself strived for true faith, he wondered if he would have the courage to face assaulting spirits. Althea's lack of belief left her unprotected, but he also knew people who faced demons had to be spiritually strong and unwavering.
Priests went through extensive preparation for true exorcisms. Even then, things could be tough. He'd read of exorcisms that took days, the people performing them put through ordeals.
"We'll go see the
Davises
," he said. "We can't turn our backs on this."
"I know we can't. It's following us."
~*~
Gabrielle spoke briefly with her boss, explaining the situation in abbreviated terms and receiving more understanding than she'd expected. After hanging up, she tried Dave's number again. No answer.
As she returned the phone to its cradle, she remembered the warm moments at the beginning of their marriage. Could Dave have become involved in something so strange?
She cursed him under her breath, just in case he had launched some effort to harm Heaven. She recalled an old Ray Bradbury story her brother had read to her when they'd been in junior high. What was it? "The October Game," about a father using his daughter to exact vengeance on his wife. She closed her eyes as the shiver touched her. How horrible. It was almost unimaginable Dave could do something like that, even more unimaginable than this very real nightmare that was taking place.
She checked to make sure Heaven was still sleeping and then headed for the bathroom. Her eyelids sagged as warm shower spray caressed her flesh, and absently she picked up the soap and began to lather it across her abdomen. White puffs rose, and, tilting her head back, she let the water spray to the roots of her hair. It seemed to melt some of the fatigue.
She let her head roll back, let her mouth open slightly, let her thoughts clear. She ought to call her mother, talk to her without revealing the full extent of the situation. No need to worry her or paint a picture so gloomy her mother would want to rush to them, but she needed her support.
After luxurious minutes, she turned off the water, shaking her hair as the swirl began to gurgle down the drain. Yanking the curtain back, she seized a towel.
She was rubbing water away when she stepped from the tub and walked in front of the mirror. Steam had clouded the glass, but in an instant her eyes focused on the letters which had been streaked across it as if by someone's finger.
YOUR DAUGHTER WILL SUFFER. Beneath this was an arcane symbol, like one from the
Gnelf
book.
She looked toward the door. Still closed, her robe undisturbed where she’d hung it. No one could have walked in, yet somehow something had found access to the glass. She had heard nothing over the water’s spray.
Grabbing her robe, Gab wrapped it around herself and cinched the belt tight. Then she hurried to check on Heaven. The child was still sleeping, undisturbed.
She did not rush to her for fear of waking her, but she watched for a long time, praying for her safety. Somehow she would fight. She would protect Heaven from whatever assaults were launched against her.
Whoever was after her child,
Gnelfs
or whatever, they would not destroy Heaven. She wouldn't allow it. Not unless they took her first.
~*~
Tanner came by around lunchtime and she tried drawing the symbol from the mirror. The condensation had dried before she could snap a picture.
"It's a little different than the others," he said. He briefly outlined what the rabbi had told him. "Maybe they used this as some kind of gate."
“Or maybe they're taunting me. Letting me know how close they are. Letting me know they're getting closer. And stronger."
The girl at the LAX Hertz counter had long red hair, and sunlight had darkened the freckles that dappled her cheeks so that she looked like a schoolgirl except for the noticeable swell of breasts beneath her uniform blouse.
She smiled sweetly as Danube made his request, and when she spoke he detected a thick Southern drawl.
“Have you learned your way around the city?" Danube asked, softening the usual harshness of his voice.
"Mostly. There's a lot of city here. I always thought Birmingham was big enough. This place is spread out everywhere."
“You are from Alabama. I thought we might be related."
She touched her hair. "'Cause of this?”
“Common descendents, Ms. . ?"
As she returned his credit card, his fingertips brushed against the back of her hand, and something deep in her eyes seemed to click.
"Devon, Devon Rogers. Maybe we are related," she said. "Way back."
"Way back," Danube said, locking his gaze on her blue eyes. "Back far in history, perhaps my ancestors and yours were close."
She nodded, her eyes focusing on something unseen. "I could use a guide," he said. "I haven't been in the city in a while."
She stared at him, frowning for a moment as if she wondered why she was nodding in agreement. "It's my friend Rosemary's day off. I could call her. Then I could be out of here in about an hour. We cover for each other, in case we have auditions or somethin'."
"That would be fine."
~*~
An hour and fifteen minutes later, she had changed into civilian clothes, faded jeans and a bright yellow blouse that matched the ribbon she had used to pull her hair back into a pony tail. She sat behind the wheel of the rental car, guiding it through the twisting maze that carried them away from the airport. She'd been handling L.A. traffic for two years, so it wasn't hard to find a place in the flow.
She was not dazed, but her eyes were rather blank, and she found it hard to focus her thoughts. Danube had given her an address across town. The freeway would get them there quickly enough, and she was happy to take him, but she wasn't sure why. He was nice, but he was a stranger.
She shouldn't be taking him on a drive, leaving her job for him. Except that she felt compelled to help him, linked to him in some way. With his accent, they couldn’t
be closely related to her family back in Alabama, but some sort of tie, some deeper connection seemed evident. Maybe they did share common ancestry, although it seemed spooky, as if he had some kind of magical power over her.
Without thinking further, she swept the car up onto an entrance ramp and swirled it around onto the freeway, jockeying into the lane.
~*~
The apartment was in a little brick and wood building at the end of a narrow street. It wasn't yet a bad neighborhood, but given time it would continue to decay. The building had probably gone up in the late sixties from the look of it, and the rustic ranch style had weathered badly so that the once-darkened surface was now faded to a brownish gray.
"You want me to go with you?" the girl asked.
"Maybe you should wait in the car," he said.
He moved on up the walkway and rang the bell on the door numbered for Dave's house. When he got no answer he looked cautiously around and then used the same credit card which had paid for the car to open the lock.
The apartment had the stale smell of a place that had not been used in some time. The air was dry and hot and seemed to lie across the room like an oppressive blanket.
The curtains were drawn, so only narrow rays of sunlight crept into the room, splaying across the couch and the coffee table littered with forgotten mail and other debris.
A few bills and circulars were among the envelopes, but Danube found nothing that might indicate where Dave might be.
Moving on into the bedroom he found clothes piled on the floor and covers twisted about at the center of the mattress as if they had been left so when someone had climbed from the bed.
The nightstand drawer held a torn box of condoms. Several of the individual packages were gone. He moved on to the closet. Only a few shirts and pairs of pants hung there, and the dresser was also barren; still no sign of where David Davis might have gone.
Behind the dresser he found a letter that had slipped down to the floor and was trapped against the wall. It was from Gabrielle, and had been torn open. A snapshot of Heaven had been enclosed, but David Davis had not bothered to display it.
Finding nothing in the bathroom, Danube let himself back out the front door and found Devon talking with an emaciated woman in a faded bathrobe. The woman's blond hair had been
permed
by someone with no knowledge of hairdressing, and she wore orange eye makeup.
“This is the manager," Devon said.
“You looking for Mr. Davis?"
"Yes. He's a relative."
"He's probably still off with that girl."
"Girl?"
"
Kinissa
."
"Oh?"
"Little Asian girl."
Danube nodded. “Do you know where she lives?”
“He gave me an address in case someone was looking for him."
She turned and headed back toward her office. Danube followed with Devon at his heels, the puzzled expression on her face indicating this endeavor was doing nothing to clear up her own questions about why she was there.
The woman riffled through a stack of papers and finally produced a torn scrap with a barely legible inscription.
~*~
After a lengthy nap, Heaven crawled out of bed and found her way to the bathroom. Her bladder felt as if it were about to pop open, and the grogginess from the drugs made it seem like her head was floating. The sensation was worse than the feeling that came when you hung upside down on the monkey bars for too long.
After flushing, she wandered back down the hallway and found Mommy asleep on the couch. Her head lay at an odd angle, and she had a twisted expression. It was late afternoon, and Mommy still wore her robe. Everything felt funny. Sick days were always like that. The time passed differently, just sort of oozed by, and the day was gone without anything happening in it.
Heaven hated that. As bad as school was, it had its good parts, and she always felt awake for it, alive. Everything felt sort of dingy now.
She missed Terry even if she didn't miss the other kids, and she missed the story reading and some of the games. Why did all of this have to happen? Why did Daddy leave? Didn't he love her anymore? And why had the
Gnelfs
started bothering her? They had always been so much fun before. So sweet and happy on television. But now they were coming after her, slobbering, threatening, wanting to hurt Mommy.
She realized her head was hurting. It throbbed around her temples and across her forehead. Were the
Gnelfs
doing that too? At feeling Heaven’s tug or her arm, Gab sat up, disoriented. "Sweetheart, are you all right?"
"Head hurts some."
Gab hugged her. "Maybe you're hungry."
Heaven's stomach felt a little queasy, but she nodded. Maybe some food would be good. She followed Mommy into the kitchen.
"What do you want?"