Exorcist Road (5 page)

When I’d successfully fended off the urge to vomit, I shambled to the sink and stood panting in front of the ornate, gilded vanity. Clutching the sides of the white basin, I took stock of myself in the mirror and decided I didn’t look nearly as wretched as I felt. In my mind echoed the damning words the thing on the bed had uttered. Father Sutherland termed it
clairvoyance
, and I supposed that was right. But to me it felt like the worst sort of torture. Laying bare my soul and ridiculing my most private thoughts and deeds in front of a man whose opinion I valued over all others, a man who was like a father to me. How could I face Sutherland again? How could he ever look upon me without embarrassment after learning of the depravity lurking within me?

I splashed cold water on my face and decided I looked presentable, if a trifle unkempt. The welts on my face, coupled with the damp hair darkening my forehead, added five years to my appearance. I reached into my pocket, found a stick of spearmint gum and popped it into my mouth, wanting my breath to be inoffensive should I bump into Liz.

So my surprise was great when I opened the door and beheld her standing in the hallway.

I smiled weakly and said something about not feeling well.

She nodded, studying my face in a way that both excited me and made me exceedingly nervous. “I passed Father Sutherland on the way up. He said he needed to discuss Casey, but that he wanted you to be there too.”

I nodded, made toward the stairs, which were perhaps twenty feet away.

“Don’t go,” she said, a hand on my chest.

Gazing down at her, I felt suddenly weightless.

“I know you’re not used to this sort of thing,” she said, “and I want you to know it’s okay for you to be scared.”

I decided clairvoyance might run in her family.

She moved closer to me, our faces perhaps eighteen inches apart in the dim hallway. “I want to thank you for coming tonight. You’ve been very brave, especially for someone so young.”

I’m afraid my tone was churlish. “I’m not that young.”

“Don’t be angry,” she said, smiling. “I think you’re more mature than my husband in most ways. You have a much better personality.”

“Mrs. Hartman…”

“Liz,” she said. “You’re more handsome too. Please don’t think badly of me for saying that.”

My mouth worked for a moment, my throat emitting a dusty click.

“I’ve never cheated on Ron,” she said, and there was a fervent, imploring look in her green eyes. “He’s stepped outside the marriage. Lots of times, I’m sure.” She grunted bitterly. “He doesn’t make much of an effort to conceal it anymore. Like it’s his right as a man or something. The breadwinner enjoying his dalliances.” Her eyes brimmed with tears.

“He’s an idiot,” I said.

She wiped her eyes, sniffed. “Thanks for saying that.”

“It’s true, Liz. He…he doesn’t know what he has.”

She looked at me wryly. “And what is that? A woman who married for money? Who deluded herself into thinking she really loved a man who wasn’t all that nice to her even when they were dating?”

“You mustn’t be so hard on yourself. There must have been other reasons—”

“He bought me things,” she said flatly. “Took me to nice restaurants. I acted like it was a fairy-tale romance. But it was only him buying me off, date by date.” She shook her head. “And I liked it. How’s that for shallow?”

“At least you see him for what he is now.”

Her face clouded.

I mistook her expression for offense. “I’m sorry for being so forward.”

As though I hadn’t spoken, she said, “Ron was born in Greece, near Mount Parnon. His parents met when his dad visited the region to explore the caves. He was an anthropology professor at Northwestern. He met Ron’s mother there. They married and remained in Greece until Ron was nine. He spoke their language as fluently as English.”

I could feel my pulse throbbing in my temples. “He still speaks it?”

“I asked him to say a few words when we were dating, and he did with little trouble then. Now…” She shrugged, a deep indentation between her brows.

“Do you know where he was during the killings?”

“I thought I did.”

“I won’t let him hurt you,” I said.

She gazed deeply into my eyes then, and I felt my hands closing on the crooks of her elbows, drawing her toward me. The swells of her breasts pushed against my robe, the subtle, delirious smell of her deodorant drifting up to me.

I might have kissed her then. Would have kissed her had it not been for the flawlessness of her lips, which my eyes happened upon at that moment. They were a deep pink, sculpted and full, rather than cheap or wanton. Her son had the same lips, had nearly all of her features.

Casey
.

I let go of her arms, angry with myself for doing so, but even angrier for having forgotten about Casey. He was the reason I had come tonight. Not to commit adultery. Maybe Liz needed to be kissed at that moment, and I just happened to be the man into whose arms she’d landed. Maybe she viewed me as a protector, as sanctuary from the horror that had taken her family.

I suppose it was precisely this notion that forbade me from doing what I so longed to do. I couldn’t take advantage of her need now. Later, I told myself. If given the opportunity. She was the kind of woman you could give up the priesthood for, a woman so warm and good and lovely you doubted God would blame you much.

But for now…there was Casey.

“We better join the others,” I said.

Liz nodded, but she looked disappointed. I watched after her as she walked away, the sight of her firm buttocks tantalizing me.

Coward,
I told myself as I followed her down the stairs.

Chapter Six

Danny reentered the kitchen where we were all gathered around the outer granite island. At Liz’s questioning look, he said, “Carolyn’s fine. You sure you don’t want her to stay with a neighbor or something? Maybe a friend?”

Ron glared at him. “And explain the bruises on her face? Have them think I smacked her around or something? No thanks.”

“It is not your well-being we should be worried about,” Sutherland said.

Liz looked at Sutherland. “You think she should stay somewhere else?”

He appeared to consider. The worry lines on his forehead were more pronounced than they’d been earlier. Or perhaps it was just the lighting. “The area of the disturbance appears to be limited to Casey’s physical reach.”

Danny leaned forward. “You called it a disturbance, Father?”

Sutherland nodded grimly. “I did.”

“Does that mean…you’re sure he’s possessed?”

“I am,” Father Sutherland answered.

Liz exhaled a shuddering sigh, and I put a comforting hand on the small of her back. It was an involuntary movement, instinct really. But I saw the look on Ron’s face and decided to let go of her. If Liz noticed, she didn’t let on.

“What will you do?” Liz asked.

“With your permission,” Father Sutherland said, “we will begin the rites of exorcism.”

The words hung in the air between all of us, thick as a fog.

Danny said, “Don’t you guys have to…you know, contact the Vatican or something? Or maybe the local diocese?”

Father Sutherland regarded Danny gravely. “Not in cases like these, Officer Hartman.”

Ron arched an eyebrow. “What the hell does that mean?”

Sutherland hesitated, looking uncharacteristically reticent.

I said, “If the host’s life is in peril, an experienced priest is allowed the discretion to take what measures he deems necessary.”

“You think there’s a demon in my son, Father Sutherland?” Liz asked in a hoarse voice.

Father Sutherland sighed and nodded.

“Jesus Christ,” Ron muttered. “Just like the goddamn movies.”

Sutherland’s face tightened. “I would appreciate your avoiding the utterance of blasphemy until we’re finished.”

“Amen,” Danny said.

“And this bears no resemblance to the movies,” Sutherland continued. He paused. “Danny, would you please check on Casey? Make certain there is no change in his condition?”

“Sure thing,” Danny said, and was off immediately.

Liz said, “Do we need to sign something, Father Sutherland?”

“In this day and age, I should probably have you sign some sort of release form, a disclaimer perhaps. But I fear taking the time to draft a legal document would be to Casey’s detriment.”

Ron asked, “What do you mean, ‘his detriment’?”

“I’ve been present at four exorcisms, Mr. Hartman, one of which I believed to be a case of an untreated personality disorder, another a scenario in which a child was play-acting as the result of an unquenchable yearning for attention and her parents’ religious zealotry. In both of those cases, the exorcisms wrought disastrous results. The woman with the personality disorder—she was in her thirties and had for years gone untreated—sank into deeper mental and emotional turmoil and eventually died in an institution. Branding her disorder possession only exacerbated her condition. The child who faked demonic possession injured herself badly, soon became resentful of her parents’ mania, and descended into drug abuse. She overdosed on heroin at the age of nineteen.”

Liz’s voice was scarcely more than a whisper. “But you think Casey’s situation is different.”

Father Sutherland nodded. “In the two other instances, the affected parties fulfilled all the conditions of demonic possession. In one case, I assisted the officiating priest. In the second case, I performed the rites myself. In both situations, the victim of the evil spirit made a complete recovery.”

I felt a rush of relief at Sutherland’s words, but Liz, perhaps cannier than I was, only regarded him with trepidation. “My son’s case is worse, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid it is, Mrs. Hartman.” Sutherland crossed his arms, his eyes downcast. “In the two authentic cases to which I’ve been witness, the spirits in question were formidable. The risks in these cases were severe, and though I entered into those ceremonies with a reasonable degree of confidence, I could not guarantee the hosts’ safety.”

We waited in edgy silence. It seemed the temperature in the kitchen had risen by ten degrees, almost as though the heat emanating from Casey’s bedroom was flooding through the rest of the house.

Sutherland said, “Mr. and Mrs. Hartman, I have never encountered such a fearsome, malevolent presence as the one attacking your son. It uses languages not uttered for centuries, perhaps millennia. It displays unsettling mental abilities; its ability to penetrate the minds of others is nothing short of remarkable.”

Ron, who stood on one side of the island by himself, paced back and forth and looked like he might soon be sick. “So maybe we should wait then, huh? Call your bishop or cardinal…pontiff, whatever the hell you call your bosses? Maybe they could assist you.”

“We could wait,” Sutherland allowed.

Liz moved closer to Sutherland. “But you don’t think we should?”

“This is all surmise, Mrs. Hartman. There are no absolutes in cases like these. We can only act with good intentions and hope our decisions are the correct ones.”

“But what could happen if we wait?”

Liz gazed into Sutherland’s profound eyes, and from the way she began to tremble, it was clear that Sutherland didn’t need to say it. I again went to comfort her, and this time I didn’t pull away. If Ron didn’t care enough about his wife to reassure her during this crisis, I’d compensate for his failure. Compensate with pleasure.

Ron’s voice was as sarcastic as it was resigned. “Well, that’s it then, right? If it’s a matter of life and death, we do the exorcism.”

Sutherland eyed him closely. “You give your consent?”

“Of course I do. I want my boy back.”

“And you?” Sutherland asked Liz.

“Yes,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Then let us pray,” Sutherland said, motioning us closer.

“What if we’re not Catholic?” Ron said, joining hands with me and Sutherland.

I glanced at him. “Then say a prayer to your mutual funds.”

Sutherland frowned at me, and I looked away, chastened. My tongue has always been too sharp for my vocation.

We had just bowed our heads when a loud, rapid thudding erupted from upstairs. We stared at each other with dread. Sutherland was the first to move. Liz and I trailed closely after him, with Ron bringing up the rear. We had just begun ascending the staircase when Danny appeared at the top. His face was alabaster, his handsome features contorted by fear.

“You guys better get in here fast,” Danny said. “I’ve never seen anything—”

His words were lost in the ungodly roar that billowed down the hallway.

When we burst through the door, we were met with a sight that defied description, though I will do my best to capture the horror of the scene:

I mentioned earlier the manner in which Casey—or rather the thing inhabiting Casey’s body—had repeatedly thrust against the handcuffs encumbering movement. Evidently, the spasmodic thrusting and jerking had recommenced at some point since we’d vacated the bedroom—and had done so with renewed vigor.

For now, one of Casey’s hands had torn free of its restraint, but it had done so at a terrible cost. What jutted from the end of Casey’s left arm was a sickening branch of bones and glistening cartilage—a bloody horror. The thing had wrenched against the steel cuff so violently that a good bit of the hand had been peeled away. Flaps of filleted skin lay on the floor and the bed like the offal at a slaughterhouse. Evidently, finding his hand liberated, Casey had proceeded to gnaw off the ends of his own fingers.

The exposed bones of the Casey-thing’s fingertips shone a lusterless white. The Casey-thing was using these pointed tips as instruments of masochism, digging slow, meaty grooves in the flesh of his pale thighs, of his belly. What remained of its shirt hung in scarlet tatters, its boxer briefs stained a deep burgundy. It was jerking at its remaining three fetters with maniacal violence, with each tug a new seepage of blood splurting from its wrist and its ankles. If the violence didn’t cease soon, I decided, Casey would expire from blood loss.

For the first time since the ordeal began, I realized how negligent we’d been with regard to Casey’s physical well-being. In retrospect, I know now we should have called a doctor earlier that evening. But how were we to know how violent the spirit inhabiting Casey would become, how severe Casey’s injuries would be?

Something flashed past me on the right. I had halted at the foot of Casey’s bed, and I realized with alarm that Liz was wrapping her arms around her son, obviously thinking to restrain him by force. Unceremoniously, the Casey-thing rammed an elbow at her face and cracked her a glancing blow in the temple. Liz was hurled against the interior wall hard enough to crack the plaster with the base of her skull.

I felt the first kindling of rage within me. I strode around the bed, and without tarrying further, flung my arms around the Casey-thing’s waist. The bony frame immediately began to buck and writhe against my grip; I was unsurprised to hear the Casey-thing shriek with mocking laughter. It called me a eunuch, a pedophile, several hateful epithets associated with homosexuality. But the sight of Liz’s motionless body was newly burned into my consciousness, and I was resolved to subdue this vindictive creature at any cost. Beneath the cackling taunts of the Casey-thing, I heard Father Sutherland’s raised voice reciting the Apostles’ Creed.

I had succeeded in corralling the left side of Casey’s body, but the right arm—though still cuffed to the bedpost—was near enough for the fingernails to gouge my cheeks and neck several times. The free arm, which I’d pinned between our writhing bodies, was like a bloody boa constrictor, wriggling against me in a ceaseless campaign to break free.

“Help me!” I shouted to Ron, who was gaping at Casey from several feet away, and though I’m loath to assign Ron Hartman credit for anything, he did respond to my entreaty. Clumsily but resolutely, he seized Casey and helped me drive the thrashing body against the mattress. As I clutched the boy, the febrile heat radiating from his flesh conjured fears of brain damage, of fatal fever. Surely Casey couldn’t withstand much more of this trauma.

“Tie him!” I shouted to no one in particular, but in the next instant Danny was beside us, wrapping a green extension cord around Casey’s savaged wrist and looping the rest of it around the mahogany bedpost. I realized that Casey was talking again, though in a voice as ancient and deep as a fairy-tale dragon’s. Further, he was staring avidly at his father.

“…lying in your reports and keeping it all for yourself…”

“Someone shut him up,” Ron said.

“…and used it to buy that condo for your mistress,”
the voice croaked.

“Shut your
mouth!” Ron demanded, but there was something naked and raw in the man’s voice I’d never heard before.

“Another child,”
the Casey-thing went on, staring up at Ron with those venomous black eyes.
“Another child, another woman, another house. A very expensive mistake, Ronald. Very expensive indeed.”

“Stop it, you little shit,” Ron hissed.

I realized with alarm that Ron had his son by the throat.

“Mr. Hartman,” Sutherland said.

“You stole from your clients. But even that wasn’t enough,”
the voice went on.
“Your mistress wanted more, more, and what could you do? If your wife found out, she’d leave you, and then she’d take half of all you had, but your concubine kept wanting more, more—”

Both of Ron’s hands were on his son’s throat, throttling the boy.

“Damn it, Ronnie!” a voice shouted, and in a flurry of limbs, Danny tore his big brother away from Casey.

Aside from the livid red fingermarks on the boy’s throat, Casey looked undaunted by his father’s assault.
“Wait’ll she wakes up,”
the Casey-thing said, flinging a glance at Liz’s prostrate form.
“Wait’ll she hears about all the hookers you buy, all the drugs you do on your business trips. But it was the waitress of all people who got her tenterhooks into you, wasn’t it? The cute, flirtatious waitress who waggled her ass at you.”

Ron yelled at the Casey-thing, gesticulated wildly for it to stop, but Danny would not relinquish his grip on his brother.

“You rutted with her in your bed, didn’t you? Your wife was shopping with the kids, and you took a long lunch and impregnated that harlot in your marriage bed.”

Ron was weeping now, his struggles weakening. I glanced at Liz, unconscious on the floor, and I must concede that the basest part of my nature wished she were awake for this revelation.

“You urged her to have an abortion…you pleaded. But she had the child anyway, and now you’re chained to her forever. Eighty thousand dollars the first year. Now it’s a hundred, plus the condo. How much more next year? How many diamond rings? How many— Well hello there!”

The Casey-thing had swiveled its foul countenance toward the open doorway, and when we discovered who stood gaping at us, I believe we all lost the ability to speak.

“Little Carolyn!”
the Casey-thing said.
“Come hear how your daddy sired you a half sister! Come hear how he plays dress-up games with his waitress whore, how he loves for her to piss on his face, how he…”

I need not record the rest of the thing’s abhorrent diatribe. I will simply chronicle what took place over the next five minutes.

Ron shouted something at Carolyn, and looking shell-shocked, she exited the room. With my help, Danny was able to secure Casey’s bonds. Together, we carried Liz from the room and made her as comfortable as possible in the master suite. She was breathing evenly, and though she had two new bumps on her head, Danny and I agreed that she would recover from her injuries with nothing worse than a possible concussion.