“So once we’re there … one, two hours at most?”
Mal shrugged and nodded. “You know the deal. It’s a production.”
“And after, someone can take me straight back to Ithaca?”
“What happened to your car?” said Ron.
Sari’s expression soured. “That old Saab wasn’t mine,” she said. “It belonged to my ex.”
“Oops,” said Ron.
“I’d be happy to bring you back, if we can get my car running,” said Aerie.
“Maybe it’s just a fuel filter,” said Ron. “That’d be a quick fix.”
A sly smile congealed on Sari’s lips and her eyes glittered. “Let me go get dressed.”
***
John couldn’t believe it when he was finally back on Route 13 and pointed homeward. Now he could drop them all off discretely by Aerie’s car and leave them to their own devices.
He worried that folks from the church passing by might see them. He could claim he was being a Good Samaritan to some strangers whose car had broken down. It wasn’t far from the truth.
The only problem was, Aerie’s car was gone from where they had left it on the shoulder.
“Shit,” said Aerie.
“I don’t see it at the Mobil,” said Mal, looking out the back window.
“Well, we know no one stole it,” said Ron. “Not if they couldn’t start it. Question is, where the heck did they tow that piece of shit?”
“If it’s the same people who towed your uncle’s van, it’s up at the State Police barracks.”
“And … where’s that?” said John.
“Just past … Ludgate Farms.”
“What?”
“Calm down,” said Aerie. “You don’t need to bring us. I’ll deal with it … some other day.”
“So what should I do? Just drop you off here?”
“Um … actually, maybe you could just take us out to your place. I mean, that’s where we’re headed anyway.”
His eyebrows angled up like a drawbridge. A blush colored his cheeks. John pulled over onto the sandy shoulder. “Listen, I’ve shuttled you guys around all morning. It’s time for me to get on with my day.”
“But you’re going out that way anyhow.”
“No. You don’t understand. You can’t go there! Not today. You’re better off in town.”
“We kind of have to be there, John. We promised Aaron.”
“I told you what was happening, Aerie. I told you about … the guns.”
“Well … maybe if we go early enough we can get it over with and be done by the time the ceremony starts. Didn’t you say it was going to start at night?”
“What ceremony?” said Eleni. “Is someone getting married?”
“Oh, apparently there’s going to be some big exorcism shindig tonight,” said Aerie.
“Cool!” said Ron.
“Wait a minute,” said Mal. “I thought we’d already been Delivered.”
“Apparently not,” said Aerie.
“Who? Wait. What’s all this?” said Sari. “Nobody thinks to mention this before I get in the car?”
“Yes,” said John “It’s scheduled for after sunset, but—”
“The quicker you get us out there, the sooner we can leave,” said Aerie. “Aaron can give us a ride back to town. We can be long gone by the time your little party gets going.”
“You shouldn’t be going there at all today,” said John. “You shouldn’t be going anywhere near that place.”
“John. I’ve told you, we’ve got no choice. We have to go. If it’s not you who takes us, we’ll take a cab … or something.”
John sighed. “I can’t. If someone sees me with all of you in my car ….”
“We’ll hunker down low,” said Ron.
“Oh no you will not,” said Sari. “There will be no hunkering with four of us in the back seat,” said Sari.
“You can drop us off up the road and we can walk,” said Mal. “No biggie. You just get us most of the way there, and you can pretend you never saw us.”
John squirmed under his seat belt. “I shouldn’t be doing this, for your sake as much as mine.”
Aerie touched his hand. “Please?”
His breath left him. A buzzing spread from his core to his extremities. “Oh Jeez. Oh, what the heck.”
She squeezed his fingers. “Thanks so much! Only … there’s one more thing. We need to make a teensy-weensy detour before we head out.”
John groaned.
“No, it’s okay. It’ll just take a second. We just need to go behind that farm stand and pick something up. Quick, quick.”
“But we just came from Ludgate’s!”
“Quick, quick,” said Aerie. “Mal’s just got to pick something up.”
John gritted his teeth and surged back onto the road. He pulled into the lot of the farm stand much too fast.
“Behind. Down that dirt road.”
“What?”
“Just a short ways around the bend. It’ll be quick, quick.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“You’ve been a great help, John. I’m so grateful.”
The bumpy, rutted road angled sharply down to a creek.
“Where the heck are we going?”
“Stop here. Here’s good,” said Mal. The back door burst open and he dashed out into a patch of ferns, emerging with a ten gallon fish tank, its glass smudged and smoky, concealing hunks of broken terra cotta and something else bulky and skulking amidst the debris.
“Oh Lord,” said John. “Is that what I think it is? Please tell me that’s his pet lizard.”
“It’s his pet lizard,” said Aerie. “Pop the trunk.”
Chapter 45: Inner Circle
Not even noon yet and the driveway was full of cars. John parked on the street and went around to the trunk, glancing but trying not to stare up at the main road through the screen of trees. He could hear Aerie’s band mates joking as they tramped to Aaron’s house from the blackberry patch where he had dropped them off.
John had taken the back road up from Newfield, cutting through a corner of the reserve. He had intended to drop them off further up the road and around the bend where they would have no chance of being seen, but they had persuaded him to bring them closer. They had things to carry, after all.
He had felt eyes upon them as he pulled into the crude track slashing through the center of the clear cut. They had exited his car and removed the beast they now called ‘junior,’ spinning in its ten gallon tank. Aerie had thanked him with a peck on his cheek. He wouldn’t be surprised to find the moment captured on one of Jerry’s spy cameras.
John caught a glimpse of the band strolling up Aaron’s drive. He hauled out two sacks of chickens and cut across the lawn, dribbling juice on the grass, up the steps and across the hardwood of the foyer. Folks he vaguely knew from church greeted him as he slipped into the kitchen and dropped the chickens into the sink.
He peeked into the dining room where Hal Cheney, a retired engineer, sat between two ladies in pastel track suits. The table was cluttered with empty coffee cups and donut bags.
“Hey John. Cindy and them deliverance folks been looking for you.”
“Yeah, I bet they have. I’ll be right back. Got more groceries out in the trunk.”
“Need help?”
“Thanks, I can handle it. It’s just one more load.”
Donnie appeared at the entry to the den. “I thought I had heard your voice. Come on in, we need you. We’re about to hold a prayer ritual for the inner circle.”
“Sorry Rev, but I’m kind of busy right now. Can’t we do this later? I’ve got to get these chickens marinated.”
“This won’t take long,” said Donnie. “Come on, this is important. You’re part of our inner circle. The chickens can wait.”
Heels clicked on hardwood, like little bird steps. “John’s back?” Cindy peered over Donnie’s shoulder. “Gosh John, where the heck have you been?”
&
nbsp; “Had some … car trouble,” he said. “I had to stop.”
“Come on,” said Donnie, extending his hand. “This will only take a few minutes.”
“But I left the trunk open. There’s chickens ….”
“Never mind those chickens. We need your participation. We’re doing a prayer of protection for the inner circle and you’re a critical link. We can’t let the circle be broken, now, can we?”
“Um, okay,” said John, tossing a glance out towards the road and his open trunk. “This will be quick, won’t it?”
“No worries. It’s just a few prayers and meditations. Come along.”
He followed Donnie and Cindy into the den, where the fire still blazed.
Jerry sat on the floor with Tammie and Rand. Mac huddled with three ‘elders’ from the church, including Rob McElroy, a stubble-headed twenty-two year old.
Cindy took one hand. Donnie took the other. Together they descended to their knees on the carpet.
“Alrighty now,” said Donnie. “Everybody come down with us and get cozy. We got a ring here of seven candles. They all got to stay lighted. If any one of them goes out, we gotta repeat the whole process. Got it?”
John watched a candle with a bent wick gutter and threaten to blink out. He rolled his eyes back and sighed.
“Now you each of you have in front of you a copy of Psalm 91. You might notice that it’s an unusual translation … not quite King James. I find certain ways of reciting scripture more potent than others, and this is a particularly potent version. So what we’re gonna do is we’re going to take each other’s hands and repeat the Psalm three times in unison. Got it?” Folks nodded or grunted. “Okay, on a count of three. One and two and three ….”
John’s struggled to read the faint and streaky words, printed on cheap copy paper on an inkjet with a fading cartridge. As he spoke aloud with the others, his mind wandered back to those chickens in his trunk.
With a jolt, he realized that he had forgotten to pick up the brown sugar he needed for the marinade. He couldn’t remember if they had any left in the cupboard. He wondered if white sugar with a touch of molasses might substitute, or whether its sulfurous overtones would overpower. Maybe he had to have to switch to Plan B and try something completely different. He had some lemon grass in the crisper. Maybe he could do something Thai-themed.
The third time through the psalm, he finally paid attention to the words he was reading: “… on lion and asp though treadest, thou trampest young lion and dragon. Because in me he hath delighted, I also deliver him—I set him on high, because he hath known my name. He doth call me, and I answer him, I am with him in distress, I deliver him, and honor him. With length of days I satisfy him, and I cause him to look on my salvation. Amen.”
John looked up, but everyone else still had their eyes diverted downward. He sighed.
“Your palms … yuck … why are they so sweaty?” said Cindy.
John looked at her and shrugged.
“What have you been up to?”
“Buying chickens.”
He stared back at her, his gaze flat and loveless, until she had to look away.
“Honey, I wasn’t implying anything. I was just worried … you being gone all morning. It’s not like you.”
John studied his wife’s face, a face he knew too well, but had never seen from the perspective he held now, a viewpoint so detached and adrift and devoid of sentiment. It had been some time since he had looked at her so directly when she was awake.
He could confirm that she was a very attractive woman, this Cindy. Her eyes were a mite small without makeup, but the rest of her features were so nicely sculpted, balanced and symmetrical. Even her imperfections, the light peach fuzz above her lip, the little v-shaped scar on her forehead, only accented. No wonder she had led his heart astray.
“Stop looking at me like that!” she hissed. “Are you mad at me or something? What did I say? I mean, you were the one who—”
Donnie clapped his hands. “Okay. That’s a wrap, everyone. We’ll assemble at four for the blessing of the candles before we advance on the site.”
“Four?” said John. “But I thought we weren’t getting started until after dinner.”
“Well, we originally expected people to be showing up after work,” said Donnie. “But looks we’ve already assembled quite a crowd. Wouldn’t you say we have a quorum, Jer?”
“Oh, most definitely.”
“We might as well get started on it sooner. Personally I feel better about getting the proceedings going when there’s some daylight.”
“Okay. So how long is the actual deliverance going to take? Do you think we’d be done in time for dinner?”
Donnie face flashed blank, and he burst out laughing. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But you have no idea, do you?”
“Why? What did I say?”
“It’s just that … we can’t schedule these things. How long it takes depends entirely upon the nature of our adversary. Could be minutes. Could take all night. Might even be days before we get this resolved.”
“So … when do you all want to eat, then?”
“Honestly, John?” said Cindy, her cheeks reddening in blotches. We’re talking spiritual warfare here, and all can think about is food?”
A batch of aborted words clogged John’s throat. “People gotta eat sometime don’t they?” he managed to blurt. “Things don’t cook themselves, you know. Who’s gonna do the cooking, you?”
“Fine!” said Cindy. “How about a late lunch, early dinner thing? Say about three-ish?”
“Oh Jeez,” John, surging up off the floor. “I’d better get cracking.”
***
The chickens were dismembered and awash and chilling in a tub with coriander, brown sugar, garlic, ginger, lemon grass and coconut milk. The jasmine rice was all measured out and waiting by the rice cooker. His plans had evolved towards a little more Thai than he had anticipated. He wondered if he should hold back the hot chilies. Bland might be a safer common denominator for this crowd.
As for veggies, would anyone even touch eggplants or okra? There was always corn on the cob, as dissonant to the palate it seemed against the entrée.
To have things ready by three, he basically had a couple of hours to let the chicken soak, not nearly enough for the flavors to sink. But what else could he do?
He dumped the trimming into the trash and washed his hands, glancing out the window up at the hell house. He cranked open a window and listened for signs of the band. The quicker they got started, the quicker they’d be gone. At least there were no signs of Mac’s security crew.
Jerry came into the kitchen. He had been hovering at the door from time to time, watching John work.
“I know you’re busy, John, but when you get a chance, I could use your advice out in the garage.”
“Heck, I’m at a good stopping point here,” said John. “What’s up?”
“The deal is … I’m draining my batteries too fast. I got extra batteries now lined up serial. Question is, are they gonna be enough?”
“Well, okay. Let’s go out and look at the specs.”
He followed Jerry outside. Fits and bursts of drumming started up at Aaron’s. Somehow, he felt relieved to hear it.
They entered the garage through a side door and flipped on the lights. There were unfamiliar boxes stacked in one of the bays. Jerry brought him to the workbench, which was covered with bits of wire and scrap metal from his tinkering.
He picked up a boxy oblong device with aluminum cooling fins.
“So that’s your inverter?” said John. “It looks like one of those cheapo, square wave deals. You’d be better off with something that gives pure sine wave output.”
“Okay,” said Jerry. “How do I make me one of those?”
“Make? You’re better off buying one. The good ones are kind of expensive, but they’re worth. The juice they put out is just like what you get off the grid.” He opened up the shop vac and looked at the spec
ifications stamped onto its casing. “You know … this is a big motor here. This thing’s pulls about six horsepower. It’s gonna choke on the limited amperage. I think you might have no choice but to go with AC.”
“Yeah, right. I’m gonna need a mile of extension cord.”
“What are you going to do with these dang things if you manage to catch one?”
“Study ‘em.”
“Is that all? Donnie’s not going to want to vanquish it, or send it screaming back to Satan, or whatever?”
“If we manage to catch one, Donnie won’t go near the dang thing. I guarantee you that. He doesn’t venture beyond the spiritual realm. The physical stuff is my job.”
“What are you gonna do with ‘em?”
“Study their habits. Document ‘em. For me, it’s about getting to know the unknown. Learning what these things are all about.”
“That sounds more like a naturalist than an exorcist.”
“Listen, we got two separate things going on here. Donnie’s the theologian. My training’s in wildlife biology. Our skills complement each either. He patches people’s souls. I get down and dirty with the demons.”
“You don’t actually believe these things are demons, do you?”
“Nah,” said Jerry. “I told Donnie how I feel about. For whatever reason, he’s taking this one personal. His getting sick didn’t help, not to mention the whole thing with Mac.”
“What’s this about Mac?”
“Nothing, it’s just … they got a bit of history going back.”
John ran his thumb around the rim of a plastic funnel that formed the business end of one of Jerry’s demon traps. From the implosion he had witnessed at the Arts Coop, he couldn’t imagine this contraption confining one of these entities for long. He had seen what they could do to urethane and asphalt, not to mention human skin. He couldn’t share these concerns with Jerry without spawning a slew of questions.
“So this deliverance stuff is just for show?”
“I never said that,” said Jerry.
“Oh? I gather you don’t think Donnie should have come back.”
Jerry looked troubled. “It can’t hurt for Donnie to go and do his thing, regardless. He’s helped a ton of people over the years. Some folks, maybe their problems might have been psychological, but still, what Donnie does helps. And when things get weird, prayer’s about the only recourse we got. I’m not saying this particular case is the best use of Donnie’s time, but—”