Demonologist (11 page)

Judd
Schiffer
asked, “How did you know that they’d been flayed?”
  

“What remained of children’s bones contained deep gouges consistent with that of a sharp stone tool. It stood to reason that the angles of the gouges showed a successful effort to remove the flesh from their bodies. The story on the tablets found later revealed that Allieb had successfully summoned the spirits of thirteen demons, his father Belial being the first, each of which had possessed the bodies of the thirteen children. One by one, he ate the flesh of the children—while they were still alive—in an effort to possess their demonic souls, and grow stronger in his battle to dethrone Christ.”

“The Antichrist,” Bev said.

“Precisely. Or, his attempt to become the Antichrist.”

“Sick,” Bev said.

“From what we gathered, Allieb carved the hieroglyphs while trapped in his dark catacomb. He’d survived a fortnight with no food or water before succumbing.”

“How long were you at the dig for?” asked Jake.

“Almost a year. It was an amazing discovery, and I’d learned that the ability to possess one’s body with the souls of demons was in fact a true belief of the ancient Israelites, and not just Bible stories of Jesus casting pig-demons out into the desert. It was soon thereafter that I left school and turned to the priesthood in an effort to rinse my soul of any taint I might have picked up while at the dig.”

“Taint?” asked
Schiffer
.
  

The priest nodded. “The site was discovered about a mile from the scene of a mass murder. Nine bodies had been found outside an abandoned vehicle—nothing too uncommon considering the sudden onset of the war. The bodies had been dead about two weeks when found, and had not survived the elements: the heat, the wind, the scavenger dogs. We eventually located the exposed tomb. Inside we made the discovery. But...we found something else as well. A young boy. Alive. Inside the tomb. Apparently he’d escaped the attack on the car in the desert—or so we’d presumed—and had found his way across a ravine into the shade of the tomb. In shock, he’d hid inside alongside the bones of the slaughtered children. When we asked him how long he’d been here, his only reply was, “
a fortnight
.”

“Odd,” Bev said, “considering what you found in the writings.”

“Right...but remember, we wouldn’t have had those writings translated until about six months later, after we were well into the dig. By then, the child had been sent by the Israeli government to live with a family in America. All we found out from him was how long he’d been there, and that he’d survived that time by consuming the carcass of a dog he’d dragged into the tomb with him.”

“That’s enough for me,” Jake said. “My stomach can’t handle this.” He thumped away to engage in a conversation with Jamie
Zetlin
.

“I’m sorry...” Father Danto said. “I shouldn’t have elaborated so much. Brandy loosens my tongue too much for my own good.”

Both Bev and
Schiffer
waved him off. “No, not to worry about Jake,” Bev said. “He’s got a weak stomach for anything horror-related.
Shoulda
seen him bailing out of the theater during
The Blair Witch Project
.”

“Please continue, Father,”
Schiffer
pleaded. “This is very interesting.”

“Well, to make a long story short, I worked at the dig for about a year, all the while studying ancient religion in school. I became alarmed after locating some additional texts analyzing
Allieb’s
scriptures, and felt no alternative at the time to enter the priesthood.”

“What did they say, these scriptures?”
Schiffer
asked.

“You have a year? I could go over it with you.” He took a sip of brandy, then said, “Let’s just say that Allieb was indeed the demonologist the tablets proclaimed him to be, and had spent his entire life making sacrifices in an effort to hone his skills in raising demon spirits, and possessing their souls. There’d been a lot of trial and error, resulting in the deaths of many at his hand. Eventually came the child sacrifices—it is said that Belial had somehow escaped the bonds of Satan and guided his son toward the proper course of action.”

At that moment there was some loud laughter in the background, and the clutch dispersed before Father Danto was able to continue. Bev got the impression, by the apprehensive look on the priest’s face, that there was much more to the story than what he’d told. Perhaps it’d triggered a distinct anxiety from the crime at the rectory? A few people, readying to leave, came over to say goodbye. Bev noticed that Father Danto had grown suddenly pale. He gazed intensely at Bev, then kindly excused himself. “I have a mass at 8:10.” He ambled away and located Jake, who immediately escorted the priest upstairs to one of the bedrooms. Bev watched as the priest disappeared behind the hallway wall on the landing. He then looked at his watch, noticed the time: 11:30.
Where was Kristin?

Bev again dialed her number on his cell. No answer. When he disconnected, Rebecca
Haviland
drifted over. She smiled, her lips full and pouty,
like Julianne’s
, her blue eyes twinkling,
like Julianne’s used to
, her blonde hair flowing smoothly to her shoulders.

Just like Julianne’s
.

Jesus.

“Hi there...enjoying the party?”

“Rebecca, it’s about time you came over to say hello.”

“The guys from Holloway Girl had me cornered.”

“Did they impress?”

“Their music speaks well for them. Their personalities...different story.”

“Yes, the party has been interesting. I just spent the last hour and a half speaking to a priest whose expertise is demons and witches.”

“Really?”

“Well, sort of. Interesting fellow, to say the least.”

“Where’s Kristin?” she asked.

“No clue. I just tried calling her cell. No answer.”
 

They locked smiles, then spent the better part of a half hour, maybe more, engaged in conversation. They stood against the wall by the kitchen, talking about their careers, comparing musical tastes, and Rebecca even mentioned to Bev that Kristin might be a good fit at
Rock Hard Magazine
as an assistant writer. Bev made a mental note to mention that to her, and wondered again with dismay as to her whereabouts.
She’d never pass up an opportunity to
shmooze
with those she’d want to impress
.

With Father Danto secured away in his room, Jake reverted back into his usual self: extroverted and caustic. The whiskey flowed continuously into him, and by the time midnight rolled around, Jake was staggering about the place like a three-legged bull, spilling his drinks and drooling and accusing the servers of watering down the whiskey. The guests had begun to filter out, many having Saturday evening intentions at the clubs on Sunset Boulevard. The lines at the clubs would be long, but everyone here held VIP status, which allowed them to pass those who might never get in.
 

By one A.M., the last of the guests had left and it was just Jake, Bev, and Rebecca, sitting at the kitchen table. The servers had cleaned all the rooms and were now gone. Jake held his head in his hands, complaining incessantly about a headache and the
douchebag
servers who slipped him Wild Turkey instead of JD
. Bev and Rebecca sat alongside one another, their knees touching beneath the table, grinning playfully at one another over Jake’s drunken demeanor. Cool shivers raced continuously across Bev’s skin at the flirtatious contact. It felt good being this close to her.
I’ve known the woman for over a year now. How come I’ve never felt this way about her before?

Soon Jake went silent and his eyes began to close. Bev and Rebecca helped him to rise and moved him to one of the living room sofas—a feat not so easily accomplished—where he plopped down in all his deadweight glory, shirttail out, white stomach exposed. In seconds he was snoring.

“It’s late, and I’ve had a very long day,” Bev told Rebecca, leaning against the banister leading upstairs. “I’m gonna spend the night here. Got a bug problem at my place.”

“Bugs?
Ecch
.”

“Yeah, I know. Exterminators sprayed today. Should be okay tomorrow, though.”

Rebecca, expectantly, placed her hands across her waist. “I left my jacket upstairs,” she said.

“Which room?”

“To the left of the stairs.”

“I’ll walk you up.”

In five minutes they were both sitting Indian-style on a made bed in one of Jake’s guest rooms.

Facing one another. Hands locked. Staring into each other’s eyes.

Leaning forward.

Lips, touching.

In Bev’s mind:
Julianne
.

He glanced away from her face; in the darkness, it gave him the haunting impression of being with his wife again. In this moment of distraction, he discovered a long tear in the dark curtain. The moon’s beams branched into the room and found the bed. Bev kissed Rebecca’s tossed hair as she fell upon the pillow. He remained silent. She caught him by the arm. Her touch was tender. Warm. Caring. Not lust-driven, like those girls he’d met on the road. It was gentler. Kinder. It brought him down to her.

She pressed against him. He could feel her heartbeat, a rhythmic pounding, filled with passion. He accepted her approach. Pressed back against her. They removed their clothes, piece by piece, taking turns, until their naked heat blended into one.

He made an impulsive turn to face her. She pulled away, pressing her warm buttocks against his groin. With a fitted thrust, they became one. He, within her. She, filled with him.

Bev was filled with a fresh and exhilarating sense of awareness. All his physical and mental pain vanished, all negative memories of the day washed away. He relished in the pleasure, every beat and rhythm between them coming naturally, with no awkward attempt to work it all out. The moment was perfect. Bev felt as if he were in chamber of pleasure floating amid the harsh reality of the outside world, this moment of ecstasy a shroud of protection from the pains of the day.

In an adept move, Bev grasped Rebecca’s thigh and brought her leg over his waist, twisting himself on top of her without breaking their slick connection. Here in this position he could see her face clearly, her eyes shut, her mouth drawing tiny gasps that progressed into deeper inhalations as their tempo increased. Her familiar facial features triggered an indescribable eroticism in him, (
Julianne’s
) lips pouting to taste the finest red wine, (
Julianne’s
) eyes like onyx, (
Julianne’s
) nose quivering with pure want and desire. She was irreproachably sensuous. Unparalleled in her beauty. Here he saw her for the very first time, Rebecca
Haviland
, who in the past had offered herself to him solely on a professional level.

But, now, offering herself on a higher, emotional level.

Perhaps sensing his burning desire for her, Rebecca finally opened her eyes. Gazed deeply into his. Bev felt energized at this level of intimacy. He looked away from her perfect face. Lifted himself up so his eyes could explore her damp body: (
Julianne’s
) svelte shoulders, (
Julianne’s
) smooth breasts, (
Julianne’s
) taut waist. Their lovemaking grew heavily, both of them gasping across each other’s cheeks. They both cried out in unison, their tiny slice of the world jumping and quaking as Bev
thrusted
one last time and released himself into her.

Soon, everything that made up their world flowed away into quiet heaven, setting the room into a breathy silence. They remained in an unmoving position for a period of time. Finally, he withdrew from her. Turned on his side to face her. His head touching hers. Their breaths commingling. Neither of them spoke, and in time they drifted off to sleep.