This Present Darkness (28 page)

Carmen seemed very disturbed, and very offended. “What are you saying to me?”

“I’m saying that we really can’t continue these appointments. They’re causing emotional conflicts for you. I think you’ll be better off going to someone else.”

Hank couldn’t explain why, but even as he said that, he felt like he had just won some kind of battle. From the icy look in Carmen’s eyes, he figured she had lost.

MARY WAS CRYING,
wiping the tears from her face with her sleeve and praying a mile a minute. “Father God, dear Jesus, save me, save me,
save me!” The hill was beginning to flatten out; the car slowed down, fifteen, ten, five miles an hour. She looked behind and saw no one following, but she was too scared by now to be comforted. She just wanted to get home.

Then, up the street behind her and about ten feet above the ground, Triskal flew, his clothes flashing with white-hot light and his wings rushing. His flight path was wobbly and the rhythm of his wings out of sync, but he was determined nevertheless. His face was etched with deep concern for her welfare. He spread his tattered, fluttering wings like a large canopy and let them brake him to a stop as he settled down onto the roof of the car. By now it was barely rolling and Mary just kept crying and wailing, jerking her body in futile attempts to urge the car onward.

Triskal reached down through the roof and gently placed his hand on Mary’s shoulder. “Shhh … be calm, it’s all right now. You’re safe.”

She looked behind her again and began to quiet down a little.

Triskal spoke to her heart. “The Lord has saved you. He won’t let you go. You’re all right.”

The car was almost to a complete stop now. Mary pulled it over to the side of the street and parked it while she still had the momentum to do so. She pulled on the parking brake and sat there for several minutes just to compose herself.

“That’s it,” said Triskal, comforting her in her spirit. “Rest in the Lord. He’s here.”

Triskal slid off the roof of the car and reached his arm down through the hood, probing around. He found whatever it was he was looking for.

“Mary,” he said, “why don’t you try again?”

Mary sat in the car thinking to herself that the stupid thing would never start and what horrible timing it had, to die and leave her in such a fix.

“C’mon,” Triskal prodded. “Take a step of faith. Trust God. You never know what He might do.”

Mary decided to take one more stab at starting the car, even though she had little faith that anything would happen. She twisted the key. The engine cranked over, then sputtered, then started. She gave it several powerful revs just to make sure it stayed awake. Then, still in a
very great hurry to get home to Hank’s protecting arms, she pulled out into the street and hot-rodded for home with Triskal riding on the roof.

Hank was very relieved to hear the slam of the car door outside. “Oh, that must be Mary!”

Carmen got up. “I guess I’d better go.”

Now that Mary was here, Hank added, “Oh, listen, you don’t have to. You can stay for a while.”

“No, no, I’ll just leave. Maybe I ought to go out the back, even.”

“No, don’t be silly. Here. I’ll see you to the door. I need to help Mary with those groceries anyway.”

But Mary had forgotten about the groceries and only wanted to get inside the house. Triskal ran beside her. He was battered and limping, his clothing was torn, and he could still feel the fiery wound in his back.

Hank opened the door. “Hi, hon. Boy, I was getting worried about you.” Then he saw her tear-filled eyes. “Hey, what—”

Carmen screamed. It was a sudden, heart-piercing scream that halted every thought and stifled any words. Hank spun around, not knowing what to expect.

“NOOOO!” Carmen shrieked, her arms guarding her face. “Are you mad? Get away from me, you hear? Get away!”

As Hank and Mary both looked on in horror, Carmen backed into the room, waving her arms as if trying to shield herself from some invisible attacker; she stumbled around the room, she tumbled over the furniture, she cursed and spewed horrible obscenities. She was terrified and enraged at the same time, her eyes wide and glassy, her face contorted.

Krioni tried to grab Triskal and hold him back. Triskal had glorified and was a shimmering white; his tattered wings filled the room and glimmered like a thousand rainbows. He held a gleaming sword in his hand, and the sword flashed and sang in blinding arcs as he engaged in a frenzied battle with Lust, a hideous demon with a black-scaled, slippery body like a lizard and a red tongue that lashed about his face like the tail of a snake. Lust was first defending himself, then lashing back with his glowing red sword, the crescent blade cutting crimson arcs through the air. The swords clashed with explosions of fire and light.

“Let me be, I tell you!” Lust screamed, his wings propelling him like a trapped hornet about the room.

“Let him be!” shouted Krioni, trying to hold Triskal back while staying out of the path of that infinitely sharp blade. “Do you hear my order? Let him be!”

At last Triskal withdrew, but held his sword steady and kept it raised in front of him, the light from the blade illuminating his raging face, his burning eyes.

Carmen calmed down, rubbed her eyes, and looked about the room with a frightened expression. Hank and Mary went to her immediately and tried to comfort her.

“What’s wrong, Carmen?” Mary asked, wide-eyed and concerned. “It’s just me, Mary. Did I do something? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No … no …” moaned Carmen. “It wasn’t you. It was somebody else …”

“Who? What?”

Lust backed off, his sword still held high.

Krioni told him, “We will give place to you no longer today. Begone, and don’t come here again!”

Lust folded his wings and circled carefully around the two heavenly warriors and over to the door.

“I was leaving anyway,” the demon hissed.

“I was leaving anyway,” said Carmen, composing herself. “There’s … there’s bad energy in this place. Good-bye.”

She bolted out the door. Mary tried to call after her, but Hank touched Mary’s arm and let her know that silence would be best for now.

Krioni held Triskal until the light around him faded and he replaced his sword. Triskal was shaking.

“Triskal,” Krioni scolded, “you know Tal’s orders! I was with Hank the whole time; he did just fine. There was no need—” Then Krioni saw Triskal’s many injuries and the deep wound in his back. “Triskal, what happened?”

“I … I could not let myself be assailed by still another,” Triskal gasped. “Krioni, we are more than matched.”

Mary finally remembered that she was about to cry. She picked up where she had left off.

“Mary, what in the world is going on here?” Hank asked, putting his arms around her.

“Just close the door, honey!” she cried. “Just close the door and hold me. Please!”

KATE GRABBED A
kitchen towel and hurriedly wiped her hands so she could pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi there.” It was Marshall.

Kate knew what was coming; it had been happening a lot the last two weeks. “Marshall, I am cooking dinner and I am cooking enough for all four of us …”

“Yeah, well …” Marshall had the tone of voice he always used when he was about to weasel out of something.

“Marshall!” Then Kate turned her back toward the living room where Sandy and Shawn were studying and talking, but mostly talking; she didn’t want them to see the distress in her face. She lowered her voice. “I want you home for dinner. You’ve been out late all this week, you’ve been so busy and so preoccupied I hardly have a husband anymore—”

“Kate!” Marshall broke in. “It won’t be as bad as you thought: I’m just calling to say I’ll be a little late, not that I won’t be there.”

“How late?”

“Oh brother …” Marshall wasn’t sure at all. “How about an hour?”

Kate couldn’t think of what to say. She only sighed in disgust and anger.

Marshall tried to appease her. “Listen, I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

Kate decided to say it over the phone; she might never get the chance any other time. “Marshall, I’m concerned about Sandy.”

“What’s wrong with her now?”

Oh, she could just punch him for that tone of voice! “Marshall, if you’d just be around here once in a while you’d know! She’s … I don’t know. She just isn’t the same old Sandy anymore. I’m afraid of what Shawn is doing to her.”

“What
Shawn
is doing to her?”

“I can’t talk about it over the phone.”

Now Marshall sighed. “All right, all right. We’ll talk about it.”

“When, Marshall?”

“Oh, tonight, when I get home.”

“We can’t talk right in front of them—”

“I mean … oh, you know what I mean!” Marshall was tiring of this conversation.

“Well, just get home, Marshall,
please!
”

“All right, all right!”

Marshall hung up the phone with hardly a loving gentleness. For a split second he regretted the act and thought about how it must have made Kate feel, but he forced his thoughts onward to the next, very pressing project: interviewing Professor Juleen Langstrat.

Friday evening. She should be home now. He dialed the number, and this time it rang. And rang. And rang one more time.

Click. “Hello?”

“Hello, this is Marshall Hogan, editor of the
Ashton Clarion.
Am I speaking with Professor Juleen Langstrat?”

“Yes, you are. What can I do for you, Mr. Hogan?”

“My daughter Sandy has been in some of your classes.”

She seemed pleased to hear that. “Oh, very good!”

“At any rate, I was wondering if we might set up a date for an interview.”

“Well, you’d have to speak with one of my teacher assistants. They are the ones responsible for checking the progress and problems of the students. The classes are large, you understand.”

“Oh, well, no, that’s not exactly what I had in mind. I was thinking I would like to interview
you.
”

“Pertaining to your daughter? I’m afraid I don’t know her. I
wouldn’t be able to tell you much …”

“Well, we could talk a little about the class, of course, but I was also curious about the other interests you’re pursuing there on the campus, the elective classes you’ve been teaching at night …”

“Oohh,” she said, with a down note at the end that didn’t sound promising. “Well, that was part of an experimental college idea we were trying. If you wish to check that out, the registrar might have some old flyers available. But I should inform you that I am very uncomfortable with the idea of granting any interview to the press, and I really cannot do so.”

“So you’re not willing to discuss the very influential people you have among your circle of friends?”

“I don’t understand the question,” and it sounded like she didn’t appreciate it either.

“Alf Brummel, chief of police, Reverend Oliver Young, Delores Pinckston, Dwight Brandon, Eugene Baylor, Judge John Baker …”

“I have no comment,” she said sharply, “and I really have some other things that are very pressing. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Well …” Marshall thought he’d go ahead and try for it. “I guess the only other thing I could ask you about is why you ejected me from your class.”

Now she was getting indignant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your class on Monday afternoon two weeks ago. ‘The Psychology of Self,’ I think it was. I’m the big guy you told to leave.”

She began to laugh incredulously. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about! You must have the wrong person.”

“You don’t remember telling me to wait outside?”

“I am convinced you have me mixed up with someone else.”

“Well, do you have long blonde hair?”

She said simply, “Good night, Mr. Hogan,” and hung up.

Marshall stood there a moment, then asked himself, “C’mon, Hogan, what did you expect?”

He dropped the receiver into the cradle and went out into the front office where a question from Bernice grabbed his attention.

“So I’d like to know how you’re finally going to corner Langstrat,”
she quipped, flipping through some papers at her desk.

Marshall felt like his face must be awfully red.

“Boy, your face is sure red,” Bernice confirmed.

“Talking to too many temperamental women in one night,” he explained. “Langstrat was one of them. Boy, I thought Harmel was bad!”

Bernice turned around, excited. “You got Langstrat on the phone?”

“For all of thirty-two seconds. She had absolutely nothing to say to me, and she didn’t remember kicking me out of her class.”

Bernice made a screwy face. “Isn’t it funny how no one seems to remember having any encounters with us? Marshall, we must be invisible!”

“How about very undesirable and very inconvenient?”

“Well,” Bernice said, going back to her paperwork, “Professor Langstrat probably has been very busy, too busy to talk to nosy reporters …”