Of Daughter and Demon (11 page)

Now, I know I beat on Bobby pretty good, but
I pulled them punches, all of ‘em, and I just don’t see as how the
beatin’ I gave him was enough to put him in a coma. Maybe, though,
I was pretty mad at what he was sayin’, even if it wasn’t really
him that was sayin’ it.

Fifties Chick loaned me her car, and as I
drove I tried to imagine what her name was. Shannon? Betty? Megan?
Jane? Hannah? Who knew? And besides, when I thought about it,
nothin’ would really suit her as well as what she went by.

I parked the car and talked to the nurse,
went upstairs and talked to the uniformed rookie sittin’ guard
outside. He didn’t know me but he knew of me, and checked to make
sure I didn’t have no gun or anything, and let me in.

Bobby was layin’ there, all fixed up with
tubes and wires, he looked like he weighed fifty pounds less. His
hair was normally brown, and while there were a few strands a grey
in it, had been for years, now it was lousy with the stuff, almost
all white. He looked twenty years older, and no
way
did I do
that to him. I popped a guy once, this was back in New York, before
the war even, and after that his eyes was always crossed, but I
never heard a no one bein’ beat till they was gray in the head. No
way did I do this.

“No, you didn’t.” said a voice behind me.

I turned around and there, still a little
transparent, was Mr. Dulouz, in a chair in the corner, hands folded
in his lap, lookin’ as if he had every right in the world be
sittin’ where he was. He finished turning solid and gave me a
little smile.

“The demon was inside him. You saw it. And
it’ll be after you now, Harry, you beat it when it was inside your
friend here.”

“How’d it get in there?”

“Well, the most common way is for someone to
have sexual contact with a person the demon has already inhabited.
They always leave a piece of themselves behind.”

“And that’s how it moves, huh?”

“One of the ways, yes. It’s like Chlamydia of
the soul.”

“But he looks...he looks so
old
.”

“That’s how they feed themselves, Harry, on
the life force of other people. That’s why it killed your daughter.
Now, I have to go, I’m sorry, but this is up to you now. Here, take
this.”

He handed me an envelope.

“There is a name of a man in there that might
be able to help you. He doesn’t talk much, but what he says is
worth remembering.”

“Wait, I can’t do all this, I still don’t
know--”

“If I’m a figment of your subconscious, like
your ex-wife told you?” he was starting to fade.

“How’d you--”

“Good luck Harry.” He was gone, and I was
left with a dirty old envelope. I turned and looked at Bobby as the
door opened. It was the guy from the hall.

“He awake?”

“Huh? No, why?”

“I thought I heard you talking to him.”

“I was, they say people in a coma need people
to talk to ‘em, right?”

“I look like a doctor to you?”

“Not quite, junior.” I glanced at Bobby again
and left the hospital. So who’d you fuck, Bobby? Who’d you fuck
that had a demon in ‘em? I know you like cruisin’ the ladies,
tradin’ a freebie in exchange for not bustin’ ‘em for that vial a
crack they got in their purse, and am I
really
thinking
these things? I don’t know Alice, if I was nuts I don’t think I’d
feel you in my heart when you talk to me, but maybe that’s a part
of it. If Fifties Chick ain’t real, who stitched my ear back on? If
this Cain fella ain’t real, why am I still holding this envelope he
gave me? As crazy as all this sounds, if I’m nuts, why does it
feel
so right?

I look down at Bobby again. Angie never
seemed to care much for him, but they seem pretty fuckin’ chummy
all the sudden. May be that I need to pay her another visit.

I left the hospital, same one you was born
in, Alice, and walked a block and a half to where I left Fifties
Chick’s car. Sure was nice of her to let me use it, especially
considering I wrecked my last one. Wonder where the hell I left the
Chrysler, anyway? Prolly been towed away by now.

I sat in the car and opened up the envelope
Cain gave me. All that was in it was a business card. On it was the
name of what I thought might be a business, called The Blue Door,
and a address I knew was in China Town. The number was funny
though, it was 4617 ½. Must be above a store or somethin’. The name
on the card was Kin Lei.

I drove up twenty-third to Burnside and went
east, toward the river. It woulda been easier to get there had I
gone down Lovejoy or maybe Everett, and drove into China Town the
back way, but I liked lookin’ at the big ornamental gates they got
on the Burnside entrance. I ain’t ever felt right goin’ into China
Town unless I went through them gates.

I parked the car again, taking the business
card with me, and walked. I knew where the 4600 block was from my
days on the beat and found 4617. It happened to be a pervert shop
that sells them movies and two foot dildos and such. Next to it was
4719, a closed up sushi place, all in the same long, low building.
I didn’t see no other address, I looked down at the card again and
when I looked up I saw something I’d missed before. A blue door in
the wall between the pervert shop and the sushi place; it was dark
blue, wooden, and there was no knob on the outside, although set
into the door was a small brass plate with a keyhole in it. I
knocked.

Who opened the door a minute later was the
oldest fella I ever seen. Must of been at least eighty or ninety,
but he looked about a hunnert-and-thirty. His face was covered in
wrinkles so deep they was almost cracks in the skin, and what
little hair he had on his head, and the hair of his little beard,
was white. Only his eyes looked young and alive, if not for them,
I’d of swore I was lookin’ at a walkin’ corpse, one a them mummies
that is centuries old.

He turned and walked back inside without
saying anything, but left the door open. I followed him in and
closed the door behind me. I couldn’t tell if this was a store of
some kind or the old guy’s house. There was stuff everywhere, weird
stuff, things in little jars and carved figures that looked like
they was movin’ even though they was standin’ still, and made of
stone. There was heavy incense in the air, but it was a nice smell
so I didn’t mind.

Everything seemed to be on display, but
nothin’ had a price tag on it, most of it was dusty, and there
wasn’t no counter or cash register or nothin’. We walked through
the room, through an aisle where one wall was made of nothin’ but
all these chests and boxes with drawers stacked together, they fit
perfectly, like they was all part of one big piece a furniture.

The old man was standin’ at the far end of
the room next to a small fireplace where there was two chairs. He
motioned to one and I sat down.

“I guess you know Mr. Dulouz then?” I
asked.

He nodded, and seemed to be waiting for
something.

“He said you might uh, be able to help
me?”

He nodded again, held up a finger to me,
turned, and walked off, leavin’ me by the fire. I craned in my seat
but I couldn’t see him. I heard him diggin’ around though, mumblin’
to himself for a second, then a crash of what musta been a whole
mountain of stuff fallin’ over.

“Hey, you need help back there?”

No answer.

A few minutes later he came back carryin’
something about six feet long, wrapped in a old black cloth. “This
will need blessed,” he said, holding the bundle out to me.

I took it, feelin’ the weight of whatever it
was. It was heavy but seemed well balanced, and strong. The fire
flashed bright for a moment, musta been a pine knot or something
flarin’ up. I unwrapped the black cloth and found I was holding a
five-foot long iron pole with a foot-long crucifix welded to one
end.

“What do I--”

The old man nodded to the end without the
cross. “Sharpen,” he said. I looked, and saw what I had was more of
a spear than a pole. And the pointed end was stained black.

“Take this to where you found your daughter,”
he said.

Somethin’ was familiar about his voice. “You
was the one that called me, wasn’t you?”

He didn’t say nothin’.

“How’d you know where her body was?”

“I was told.”

“You know about all of this, don’t you?” I
asked. “About what happened to Alice? It’s real then? The
demon?”

He sat down in the chair across from mine,
and folded his bunched and gnarled hands in his lap.

“What about Bobby? How’d that thing get
inside him? Will he get better? I mean, come outta his coma?”

Nothin’.

“Can you tell me anything about my ex? About
Angie, I mean? Why she was actin’ the way she was? Is that thing
inside her, too?”

Nothin’. Maybe I ain’t askin’ the right
questions.

“How can a cross do anythin’? Cain tole me he
worked for the two real gods, so this, it’s just a symbol,
right?”

He nodded again, slowly. “A symbol is a very
powerful thing, if in the right--or wrong--hands.”

“What about this Father Valentine? You know
of him?”

Another slow nod.

“Do you know where I can find him?”

“The demon will tell you everything if you
can keep it from destroying you.”

“So I gotta go kill it, that it?” I hefted
the cross. “That why you gave me this thing?”

He leaned forward, slowly. I heard his joints
creak and pop, and when he smiled, he looked like a shrunken head.
“I am thirty-five years old, Mr. Mitchell. Take care it does not do
to you what it has done to me.” He leaned back, his hands shaking,
and closed his eyes. I took this as my cue to leave. And he’s only
thirty-five? Wait, you know what happened to him? His whole family,
huh? Ah, that’s terrible, Alice. I wish you didn’t know things like
that, but bein’ up there you see all the bad along with the good,
huh?

Get this blessed, that what he said? Yeah?
Good idea, Alice. I’ll go there. I wonder if he’s still runnin’
that same church. He is? Good. I always liked that fella. And don’t
worry Alice. Tonight you’ll sleep better up there on your cloud,
because Daddy’s finally gonna do what he promised you, all them
long, long nights ago when you was taken.

I got back in Fifties Chick’s car, carryin’
the six-foot spear with the cross on one end, wrapped back up in
the old black cloth. This is gonna work. It has to work. I got
nothin’ else.

I drove back up town a little, to this little
brick church, nondenominational, that Angie an’ me used to take
Alice. I hope he’s home, or at work, or wherever the hell he is
when he’s at the church. Today ain’t Sunday, is it? Wait, yeah, it
is Sunday. He should definitely be there, then. I just hope there
ain’t no service goin’ on, cuz it’d be rude and all, but I’d hafta
interrupt.

I park and carry the bundle with me through
the iron gates of the church into this little courtyard, place
seems empty enough, I don’t think there’s a service or nothin’
goin’ on. Good. I’d interrupt a weddin’ if I had to, but I’m glad I
don’t gotta.

“Can I help you sir?” asked a pretty young
woman in a pantsuit twenty years too old for her.

“I’m looking for the priest? Mr. Malcolm? He
in?”

“Certainly, do you know where his office
is?”

“No ma’am.”

“Well let me just show you.” she smiled
sweetly and I followed her into the church and felt better, bein’
back in here. Been a long time. She took me to a little office with
the door open, knocked on the door frame and poked her head in.

“Father? You have a visitor?”

“Wonderful. Send them in.”

“Go on in, sir,” she said, and when she said
sir, you could tell it was cuz she was a nice, polite lady, not
some asshole butler with pretensions of grander, or whatever they
call it.

I hesitated for a moment, thinking of what
Angie told me. I looked at the bundle in my hands and wondered if I
oughtta be locked up.

“Hello,” from inside the office.

I took a deep breath and walked in, ready to
introduce myself.

“Harry? Is that…it is! Harry Mitchell, how
are you?” He stood up to shake my hand. I shook and he gestured to
a chair across from his desk for me to sit in.

“Now yours is a face I haven’t seen in quite
a while. What’s it been?”

“’Bout four years. I didn’t think you would
remember me, Father.”

“Who could forget you, with that little angel
of a daughter you had? Only baby I’ve ever known not to cry during
one of my services. How is she?”

“She, well, she’s doin’ better, Father. She
had a rough go of it, lately, but she’s doin’ better.”

“I hope it’s nothing too serious?”

“Well, ah hell, Father, I didn’t mean to
start out this way, lyin’ to you. Alice is dead, she was kilt. She
was taken, abducted, I mean, about four years ago, that’s when I
stopped comin’ to church.”

He gave me a sad smile. “I’m terribly sorry
for your loss, Harry. But it’s at those times when you should have
come to church even more. We could have helped you. That’s what God
is for, to help you when you when everything else seems
hopeless.”

“Well, I hope so, Father, that’s kind of why
I’m here today.” I set the six-foot cross on the edge of his desk
and unfolded the cloth from around it. “I need this blessed.”

“Harry, I--”

“Please, Father? It’s the only way I can help
my daughter now, it’s the only way she can rest easy up there in
heaven.”

“Your daughter is already with God, Harry,
and there is nothing we can do here on Earth to help those that
have been accepted into His Grace. They do not need it.”

“But fath—“

“What you’re asking is not only sacrilege,
it’s also strictly forbidden by the church.”

“I don’t accept that, father. You hafta be
able to do this, I don’t know nobody else.”