The Curse Servant (The Dark Choir Book 2) (20 page)

he drive back to Baltimore took longer than it ever had before. I never relished diving into Emil’s books. They held knowledge that was palpably corrupting. Energy from malicious intent emanated from the very pages, some of which were of questionable materials. I debated as I exited the freeway how I was going to find a priest. I had no contacts within Christendom, a shortcoming I had never really noticed before. My work so seldom interlaced with the Church. This was going to be a learning experience for me.

When I returned home, I laid my phone on the kitchen table and descended immediately to the workroom. I opened up the dark wood cabinet containing Emil’s Library and snatched his handwritten index from the nail. When it came to Demonology, there were plenty of books to choose from. Emil took a fancy to late Renaissance Demonology when we were in London. I kept skimming, however. This thing inside Elle might not be a demon, per se, and all of the information Emil had spirited from the Vatican’s secret knowledge wouldn’t amount to a handful of dog crap.

I grabbed two Goetic texts and a journal from a spiritualist contemporary of Harry Houdini who had cataloged his encounters with séance charlatans whom he couldn’t debunk. The thing about entities such as these was that they may not necessarily know their own limitations. Just like people, they have a limited perspective on the Cosmos. Most of the entities that self-identify as “demons” only believe they are. Thus they carry all of the religious baggage that goes with it. Some entities, however, are older than the Church, and as such have never accepted the rules and limitations organized religion has deemed fit to saddle them with. And even worse, some of the very old entities remember a time before Humanity.

I had a sneaking suspicion I was dealing with one of those.

It wasn’t likely a priest’s exorcism would do much good against such a creature, so I resorted to something older, namely King Solomon and Hermes Trismegistus. Between the Clavicula Solomona and the Hermetic Texts, I might have found some footing to unhinge this unsavory little fucker from Elle’s body. After three full hours of study, I had come to the conclusion I needed to identify the nature of the being first. It was paramount. There was no Step Two until I knew precisely what this thing was, and therefore what its weaknesses were.

I didn’t have an Unholy Douchenozzle Detect-o-matic in my personal inventory, so I was left with the process of elimination. Once again, it came down to needing a priest. If I could rule out the more common demon of the Christian mythos, the whole affair would be over fairly quickly. It was worth a shot.

I locked up my books and hustled upstairs to find the nearest Catholic church. I paused as I spotted two missed calls. One from Julian, one from Abe. I chose to return Abe’s call, which turned out to be an A/C unit on the blink. I gave him permission to call a professional to deal with it and jumped into my car. Julian could wait.

One thing about Baltimore, there was no shortage of Catholic churches. As the name might suggest, Maryland was one of the historic Catholic centers of North America. I drove past the closest one, however. It was too big. The Basilica would likely be a fantastic place to have high-minded conversations with some well-educated clergymen, but I wasn’t keen on calling too much attention to our little problem. I settled instead for St. Aloysius, a cozy church tucked between the University and some of McHenry’s new developments north of downtown.

I parked on the street and sat at the wheel, staring at the double doors at the front of the old stone building. I had no protocol for this. Did I need an appointment? Were walk-ins welcome? Did I just tap-dance inside and ask if a priest was on-call? What was the deal with the candles and the Holy Water? Hell with it. I figured Fortune favored the bold, and I didn’t have time to screw around.

One of the doors was unlocked, and I stepped inside. The wall of energy into which I stepped nearly dropped me to my knees. It wasn’t a shield so much as huge wad of resonant intent. There were tens of thousands of people in the city that feared the Devil, I was sure, and though I didn’t personally subscribe to a specific belief in the Christian Satan, I knew I wasn’t exactly on the welcome list. Still, I muscled through and managed my way into the nave, which was oddly circular. I had only seen movies of cathedrals in my youth, and expected something more rectilinear.

I spotted a young man rubbing furniture near the center platform, which I assumed to be the altar, and approached with a nod.

“Excuse me? I’m kind of lost. Well, I mean not literally, but I need to talk to a priest, and I don’t know how to make that happen.”

When the young man stood up to face me, I noticed the collar. He smiled and folded the wiping cloth, setting it on a table with a tiny bottle of oil soap.

“Then you came to the right place. Father Mark,” he chimed as he held out a hand. I shook it, trying not to intentionally shield up. “How can I help you?”

“Do I need an appointment or something?”

“If it was Holy Week, maybe. But I have plenty of time on my hands today.”

“I see that,” I replied nodding to the oil soap. “Don’t you have people who do that for you?”

“Sure, but I’ve always enjoyed a good polishing. Relaxes me. So, want to come to my office?”

I shrugged and followed him to a door leading out of the main nave. We ended up in a cozy if bland office with a short stack of bookcases behind a laminate desk. A large oil painting of some saint doing something saintly hung on the wall over the stacks of papers kept in neat columns. I never knew how much paperwork came with the priesthood.

“What’s your name?” he asked before he actually managed to take a seat.

“Dorian Lake.”

“How can I help you today, Mister Lake?”

“I have a friend who’s having some trouble of a spiritual nature. I don’t know if you’re the one who can help her or not. But I thought I’d give it a shot. Worst you could say is no.”

“Sounds seriously non-specific,” he said with a grin. “What’s the nature of her spiritual troubles?”

“She’s being influenced, I think, by an outside force.”

His eyes narrowed. I was already losing him.

“She’s the daughter of my best friend. I don’t know, maybe my only friend. More like family, really. I’m saying this so you get why I’m about to say this really ignorant sounding sentence out loud.”

He nodded and waved me on with his fingers.

“Okay, so, what I basically need is an exorcism.”

He nodded for several seconds before looking down to his desk and pulling a pad of paper in front of him. He clicked a pen and began making notes.

“Parents?”

“Yeah. Both.”

“I mean, who are the parents? Are they lay members?”

Crap. Did they have rules about that kind of thing? “Uh, that would be a no.”

“Believers?”

“They believe in plenty. Not necessarily your flavor of faith, maybe.”

“A simple ‘no’ would work, Mister Lake. What has led you to believe she’s being acted upon by some outside force? Describe her.”

“I was called in after it began, so I’m not sure how it started. But she had been feeling sick. When I got there, she was someone else. Her eyes look darker. Maybe. No, that could just be my imagination. Sorry, I’m usually more skeptical than this.” I really should have prepared for this better.

“But something makes you believe in this situation?”

“Well, yeah. She spoke to me about things she shouldn’t know.”

“Have the parents taken her to a medical professional?”

I paused and leaned back in my seat. For whatever reason, I had assumed that the Church would jump to a spiritual conclusion. I hadn’t accounted for common sense. That was my fault.

“They have an appointment for her. Not until next week. Doctor’s out shining his golf clubs or something.”

“So the young woman isn’t endangering herself or others?”

“I can’t be sure. Mostly she’s just talking filth.”

Father Mark made several more notes before looking up at me with serious eyes. “Are you disposed to give me her name?”

“I’d rather not.”

Instead of arguing, he simply nodded.

“I’m not trying to make a child protection case out of this, is mostly my thinking.”

“You’re obviously motivated for this child’s well-being. I can’t fault you for that. Can we both agree that we’re interested in seeing this child safe and healthy?”

“We can.”

“Then I’ll be frank with you, Mister Lake. The mind is a complex and often terrifying apparatus. It’s easily broken, even among children. When we see a young child in mental pain, it affects us. They are innocent, free of the corruption and complexity of adulthood. We have this universal understanding that a child is pure. When that assumption is shattered, it can very often seem sinister. Even Satanic.”

“I think I see where you going with this,” I sighed.

“Which isn’t to marginalize your request, here. But what most people see as the work of the Devil is most often the work of a brain in need of healing. There are several routes to healing, many tools. Faith is one. Another, medicine. Therapy. Correcting the physical and spiritual since they are both connected.”

“You’re saying she needs a shrink.”

“I’m saying that her parents seem to be of that thought already. But they haven’t come to me, have they? You have. You were moved to step into a church, and I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that’s something you’re not used to?”

I smiled and nodded once.

“You put yourself into an awkward situation because you wanted to help. I bet you’re feeling pretty frightened for her. Maybe a little powerless?”

I tapped my fingers on the arm of my chair. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Then maybe you feel responsible?”

Damn, this guy was good. “Well, of course I’m responsible, that’s why I’m here. Though I’m starting to see it was a mistake.”

“I don’t mean to make you feel ignored, but without the girl’s parents here, there’s only so much I can do for her. You, on the other hand, are in a position to blame yourself for her misfortunes, and I’m just wondering why that is?”

“Because the thing inside her is gunning for me. It’s getting at me through her.”

“And if a gunman took a person hostage and threatened to shoot her if you didn’t hand over your wallet, you’d feel responsible for putting her in that position?”

I shifted in the seat and shook my head. “It’s different.”

“I’m sure it is because what’s happening to this girl probably has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with her brain chemistry. Guilt, Mister Lake, kills hope. And when you kill hope, you open yourself up to despair. If you’re going to be any help at all to your friends, you’re going to need to shrug off this self-induced blame.”

I nodded and took a deep cleansing breath. “There are other factors.”

“There usually are, but in the end, do they really amount to you harming a child?”

“No.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He set down his pen and leaned back in his chair, leveling earnest eyes on me. They were completely free of judgment, ready to shoot down any excuse I would have to feel sorry for myself. “I sense that your concern is motivated out of love. A desperate kind of love this world needs more of. I hope you see that I’m only trying to help you open that up to your friends. Be a comfort. Be an aid. Give them a fuller portion of this frantic need to heal.”

“There were two others,” I stated, folding my fingers in front of me.

“Others?”

“Two more suffering from possession. Both of them knew my name, knew particulars of my personal life. One of them was a complete stranger. The other was my girlfriend.” I stood up and straightened myself. “I’m just saying this, so you don’t think I’m insane.”

“I never thought that.”

“Well, then, you’re probably crazier than me. Anyways, thanks for your time. I don’t think you can help me. You were a long shot, in any case.”

I extended my hand, and Father Mark shook it. I fished a business card out of my pocket and set it on his desk. “If you have any thoughts about this, feel free to call me.”

He nodded noncommittally. I knew that business card was probably going to hit the trash can before the door closed behind me.