Microsoft Word - willingservants-vcw-061715, page 33
floor. Mara′s body shook, choked, with laughter. With her clawed hand,
she slashed at Everett′s ankles, making him jump back.
″Oh, Mara,″ he breathed, eyes riveted on her doubly-folded hand,
the red-stained bones piercing the skin, hooked like claws. Howard
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Eastman appeared in his mind, but he quickly dismissed the image.
″We have to get you out of here.″
″Too late!″ The same voice filled the house, roaring painfully in
their ears, yet not issuing from Mara′s mouth.
CHAPTER 28
MARA FELL into a deep sleep, the breath steaming out of her in the
freezing room. Bradford felt her neck. ″She′s alive.″
″Everett, let′s get her into bed and clean her up. Sam, we′ll need
some candles, if you can find them.″ Holly leaned over, putting her
arm under Mara′s shoulders.
″I can′t lift her.″ Everett held up his cane, eyes on Mara′s face.
″Sorry, I forgot. Sam?″
Bradford wasn′t a big man, but he was powerfully built, and he
lifted Mara′s slim body with ease. He tried to ignore the fact that she
was naked in his arms as he carried her to the guest room, Holly
following close behind with the flashlight. As they moved into the
room, Holly slipped ahead, throwing back the bed clothes.
Holly went to the bathroom, returning with a wet washcloth and
some bottles of medicines. Everett came into the room with two lit
candles in small holders.
″Put those on the dresser, then help me here,″ Holly said. ″Sam,
would you put your crucifix between the candles?″
With reluctance, Bradford opened the stand at the back of the cross
and set it on the dresser.
Everett took one of the damp washcloths and soaked some peroxide
into it. Carefully, he cleaned the deep, oozing cuts on Mara′s arms.
As if talking in her sleep, Mara whispered, ″Lower, Daddy, you
know how I like it.″
″Don′t listen,″ Holly cautioned again, carefully rubbing Mara′s
cut lip.
Mara spoke again, this time with the deeper, wheezing voice. ″You,
too, Reverend. I know you go both ways.″ A chuckle shook Mara′s body,
chilling them more than the cold in the room.
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Everett concentrated on the task, feeling nearly exhausted. The
sight of Mara′s beaten body brought tears to his eyes, and the demon′s
taunts made him feel nauseous.
″Do you mind?″
Everett looked over to see the cop holding up a Rosary. ″No,
please, go ahead.″
As Bradford crossed himself and began to pray, a growl, low as a
large dog′s, started deep in Mara′s body. Her head jerked left, and right.
Holly glanced over at Everett. ″Can you find something to dress
her in?″
″I′ll look.″ Everett got up and went into the other bedroom. The
smell was bad in there, feces mixed with rotting meat and fresh blood,
so he quickly rifled through a dresser, finding a long cotton nightgown.
Holly pulled it over his daughter′s head as he gently lifted her. The
growl continued, muffled by her flesh. Together, they covered her with
the blankets.
Holly stood. ″I think we should begin.″
″Begin?″ Everett watched as she took a bottle from her coat pocket.
″The exorcism.″
″You?″
″I′ve done it before.″ She uncorked the bottle.
Everett put a hand on her wrist. ″Don′t you need permission
from the bishop, or something? Are you even Catholic?″
Holly looked to Bradford.
″We have permission from the diocese.″ He twisted the beads of
the rosary, hesitantly. ″Sort of. I wish Capelli were here.″
″I do, too.″ Holly sprinkled the holy water, blessing Mara. ″In
the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.″
″Amen!″ Mara shouted laughing uproariously.
Taking a deep breath, Holly continued, ″Please pray for us against
the tyranny of Satan; Mary, Holy Mother of God, Holy Virgin of virgins,
Saints Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, and all holy angels and archangels.
All holy orders of blessed spirits—″
Mara struck out with her left hand, closing around Holly′s jaw,
dragging her toward the bed.
″Do your little chants, your little dances, cow. I′m the invited
guest, here, not you.″
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Holly pulled away, continuing, ″St. John the Baptist, St. Joseph,
all holy patriarchs and prophets, St. Peter, St. Paul, St. Andrew, St.
James, St. John, St. Thomas, St. Philip, St. Bartholomew, St. Matthew, St.
Simon, St. Thaddeus, St. Matthias, St. Barnabas, St. Luke, St. Mark, all
holy apostles and evangelists.″
″Saint Penis,″ Mara shouted, ″Saint Fucker, Saint Sodomy. Lord,
lick my pussy!″
″We sinners, we beg you to hear us.″
″You got that right,″ Mara said, ″Sinners, all of you. Fucking
losers.″
″Do not keep in mind, O Lord, our offenses or those of our parents,
nor take vengeance on our sins,″ Holly continued, ignoring Mara′s
outbursts. ″Our Father, Who art in Heaven…″
Everett watched his daughter begin to twist and writhe beneath
the bedclothes as Reverend Owen prayed quietly. Her head swiveled
in bird-like jerks, eyes glowing an unearthly red the same way he′d
seen in Howard Eastman. Why couldn′t he get the man out of his mind?
Mara′s mouth cracked open as wide as it had in the living room. The
odor of decaying flesh filled the room. Holly gagged, and Everett took a
half step back, choking. Lt. Bradford made a face, but that was all.
″And lead us not into temptation,″ Holly said, voice strangled.
Bradford joined her, ″But deliver us from evil.″
With a hand over her mouth, clamping her nose, Holly shouted, ″I
command you, unclean spirit, along with all your minions now attacking
this servant of God, by the mysteries of the incarnation, passion,
resurrection, and ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ, by the descent of
the Holy Spirit, that you tell me by some sign your name, and the
day and hour of your departure.
″I command you, moreover, to obey me fully, I who am a minister
of God in spite of my unworthiness; nor shall you be emboldened to
harm in any way this creature of God, or these bystanders.″
Holly made the sign of the cross on Mara′s forehead, her lips,
and her chin.
″Fuck you!″ With her right hand, Mara slashed at Holly, slicing
through her sweater and drawing quick beads of blood before the
reverend could react.
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″Oh, shit!″ Holly said, grabbing the monstrous wrist, staring at
the blood-stained, claw-shaped bones, not realizing before that the
mutilation was more than an injury. ″In the name of our Lord and
Savior, Jesus Christ, tell me your name!″
At the sight of the mutilated hand, Everett drew a deep breath,
feeling the room begin to spin around him.
″I′m God′s cock-whore!″
Holly struggled to keep the claws away from her face. ″Your name,
by the power of Jesus Christ, tell me your name.″
″Mara Elizabeth Singleton,″ Mara said, this time in her own voice.
Everett reached out, pulling down on the arm, the horrifying
doubled fist, the arching claws.
″Tell me!″
″Legion, bitch!″ Mara grabbed Holly′s sweater with her other hand,
dragging her down.
″Your name, by the power of St. Michael, St. Gabriel and St. Rafael,
by the power of Christ, tell me your name!″
Bradford dropped the Rosary, rushing to Holly′s side. With all
his strength, he pushed Mara′s arms down to her sides. Her feet
started flailing, kicking. She shoved against him with the strength of
a madwoman.
″Find something to restrain her,″ Bradford said. ″I have cuffs on
my belt.″
Holly reached behind him, pulling handcuffs out of a leather
pouch. She snapped them around Mara′s distorted right wrist. ″By
the ascension of our Lord and Savior, tell me your name.″
Bradford dragged the arm down, snapping the other end of the
cuffs around the bedpost. ″Find something else,″ he said to Everett.
″Stop it, can′t you see she′s injured? We need a doctor.″
″Find something,″ Bradford said through clenched teeth.
″Tell me!″ Holly commanded. With both hands free, she blessed
Mara with the holy water. ″In the name of the Father, and the Son,
and the Holy Spirit!″
The room rocked like a ship in a storm. Plaster cracked, sending
chunks raining down like hail. The walls oozed with a black fluid
that crept from the cracks in the plaster, smelling sharp, like bile.
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Everett stripped off his belt, slipping the buckle end around her left
wrist. Bradford grabbed the other end, securing it to the other bedpost.
″Oh, yeah,″ Mara strained the words out, as if suppressing a
cough, ″I love bondage, Daddy.″
The bed skated sideways, knocking Holly on top of Mara. Holly
reached up, making the sign of the cross on Mara′s head, her lips,
her chin. Mara snapped at her hand, growling.
″Tell me your name, unclean spirit, in the name of all the saints.″
″The Other.″
″Your name!″
″Fuck yourself up the ass and die!″
″In the name of Christ, tell me your name!″
″The Watchers of a hundred seventy generations!″
″Tell me—″ The bed came to a stop against the wall.
″We are your fate, your death, your maker, we will rip you apart—″
″In the name of Christ, in the name of everlasting God the Father,
tell me.″
″Stop it, please,″ Everett shouted.
The glass in the bedroom windows shattered, spraying across
the room, tiny shards cutting and stabbing their skin. Everett raised
a hand just in time then stared in shock at the long, slender crystal lodged in his palm.
″Daddy, make her stop!″ Mara pleaded in her own voice.
″Tell me!″
″Holly,″ Everett said, watching his little girl twist in agony.
With a voice that echoed as if in a deep canyon, the spirit inside
Mara bellowed, ″You Christian sons, bowing and scraping before your
maker, you do not know me! َمَلْسَأ َحوﱡرلا , ىَدْوَأ ِهِب وأ ِهِتاَيَحِب , ْتَقَھَز ُ هُسْفَن , َقَراف ةاَيَحلا
, ْتَضاف ُ هُسْفَن , ْتَضاف ُ هُحوُر , َسَطَف , ىَضَق , ىَضَق ُ هَل َجَأ وأ ُ هَب ْحَن , َيِضُق ْيَلَع , َ ظَفَل َسَفﱠنلا َريِخَلأا ,
َ ظَفَل ُ هَسافْنَأ , َيِقَل ُ هَفْتَح!″
″What is that?″
″Aramaic, or Arabic maybe,″ Holly said. ″Tell me your name,″ she
commanded quietly.
″Errrrrht! Aaaauuggggggggh!″ Mara screamed, her voice shifting
from her own to the deep, echoing shout of terror. ″Ertael! You do not
know me! Ertael, the eternal, Watcher of a thousand thousand years!
Defiler of man and God! Fear me! Fear for your souls, you wretched
piles of shit! We will tear you apart and devour you!″
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Mara let out a deep gasp and collapsed on the bed.
A booming laughter erupted, sourceless, threatening to shatter
their eardrums. Pressing hands to their ears, the three of them watched
as Mara′s computer blew up, the metal sides expanding like a balloon. It
flung itself from the stand, crashing into the wall near Everett.
As silence fell, Mara′s face expanded in a similar way, until the
lines in her face disappeared.
Holly climbed off the bed, shaking her head, mouth open.
Everett watched the cop and the reverend exchange a frightened
look. ″What?″
″You know who it is?″ Bradford said.
″One of the leaders of the Fallen,″ Holly said. She carefully
picked the glass from her arms.
″What does that mean?″
″I don′t know,″ Holly said.
Bradford sighed. ″According to the Book of Enoch, a book edited out
of the Bible a thousand years ago, two hundred angels descended from
Heaven to take human wives. The great flood was God′s punishment for
the Sons of the Fallen. But the Fallen themselves were doomed to wander
the earth as spirits for a hundred seventy generations.″
″One hundred seventy generations,″ Everett repeated.
″What?″ Holly looked up at him.
″The book we found, the one at the crime scene. It had these strange
genealogies in it. All of them numbered. The killer′s victims were all
numbered one-seventy.″
″That′s crazy,″ Holly said. ″You can′t trace records back that far. A
human generation is thirty or thirty-five years. Five thousand years?
More.″
″Before Egypt,″ Bradford said. ″That would make sense. Somehow
these families escaped the deluge. That would make them more
desirable targets for revenge.″
It clicked for Everett. ″That′s what Eastman was searching for. But
all of his victims were ten-year-olds.″
″If the Fallen kill all the generation one-seventies, does that mean
their punishment comes to an end? The giants return to walk the
earth?″ Bradford asked.
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Holly shook her head. ″I′m sure Enoch is couched in symbolic
language. But this can′t be good. This is a really bad sign.″
″I wish Monsignor Capelli were here,″ Bradford said again.
″Me, too,″ Holly agreed again.
″She′s sleeping now,″ Everett said, looking down at the face of
his daughter, made alien by the lack of lines or wrinkles. ″Maybe we
should all rest. It′s″—he looked at his watch—″four a.m. now.″
Bradford looked at his own watch. ″It isn′t even one yet.″
″Besides, we can′t rest until we′re done,″ Holly said. ″Or we′ll
have to start over. I don′t think I can take it. Or Mara.″
″I′m still on East Coast time,″ Everett said.
″You should get some rest,″ Bradford said, ″We were ready for
an all-nighter. You want to sleep in my car? There isn′t any room in
the house that isn′t…″ Bradford couldn′t find the words to describe
the horror Mara′s house had become.
″Thanks, yes. My rental′s too small.″ Everett took the keys and a
blanket from the closet. He walked past Mara′s defiled bedroom and
the abattoir in the living room. But once in the car, he didn′t sleep.
Wrapping himself in the blanket, Everett Singleton began to
meditate. He had taken care of Howard Eastman′s demon with little
effort, even taken by surprise in the airport lavatory. He willed
himself into the Silence, fairly certain he could do the same to the
thing inside his daughter.
He only had to find a way to rid her of the monster without
killing her.
CHAPTER 29
JERRY GREENWALT DROVE to Mara′s house in G-Mobil One.
Mara hadn′t shown up in the office or even called in. And while he
was certain she was exhausted after the beating she took in the
Halloways’ place, it wasn′t like her not to check in with HQ. Of course,
she′d also been acting really weird the night before. As he tossed and
turned in bed, Janet finally kicked him out, telling him to get it out of
his system, whatever it was (and it wasn′t my cooking, you old fart).
He noticed a lot of cars parked in Mara′s neighborhood, including
an unmarked police car and a brand new car with rental plates parked
right in front of her place. Cursing under his breath, he parked farther
away, walking through the misty night.
Right away, he saw her car door open, then the front door. This
ain′t right.
Moving carefully, silently down the driveway, he saw light coming
from the back bedroom, flickering like candles. When he reached the
front door, he nearly tripped at the sight of the legs protruding from
an afghan on the floor.
Always prepared, like the soldier he′d been forty years ago, he pulled
the revolver out of his camouflage jacket and crept into the house.
It stank, and to Jerry, it stank like battle, save the smoke. Voices came
from the back room, the one Mara used as a den. Checking to make
sure he had a bullet under the hammer, he slipped down the hall.
