Night and Day (28 page)

“So the McCrays adopted you?”

Father McCray smiled again. “More or less. I’ve never seen formal adoption papers, but
hey, I was just a kid. What did I know? My last name changed to McCray, I went to school,
everything was pretty normal.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Probably. I don’t have any complaints. The McCrays didn’t have children, couldn’t
have children, so they poured all that love into me. When I was old enough to understand
what had happened, I didn’t see any point in asking if my adoption had been legal. They
raised me well, as well as anyone could have, and that’s what counts, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Come on, Charlie,” he said with a grin. “I grew up bathed in the love of those two
people and the love of God. What more could any kid want? I graduated from high school at
the top of my class, did my undergrad years at Loyola, found my vocation and joined the
Society when I was twenty-two.”

“Society?”

“Society of Jesus,” he said. “You didn’t know I’m a Jesuit?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Father Keitaro McCray, SJ,” he said with a smile. “Well, almost. I went through the
program, was ordained, and came here for my Tertianship, which is the last step before Final
Vows. Three months later, the demons came. Instead of a two year Tertianship and Final
Vows, I spent the next three years in an internment camp. Which was actually a good
experience, and a good place for me to be. Where better for a priest to be than with people
surrounded by evil, right?” He laughed. “As the saying goes, God works in mysterious
ways.”

“I don’t think God had much to do with the war.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, Charlie,” Father McCray said. “God had everything to
do with the war. He brought the demons to test our faith.”

He was watching me closely, and after a moment, he smiled. “I see you’re unconvinced.
But it’s all in the Bible. Let me show you.”

“You don’t have to convince me of anything, Father,” I said quickly as he stood and went
to the table by the bed. He picked up the Bible. “You’re certainly entitled to believe what you
like.”

“No, I want you to understand,” he said. “I want you to know what we’re up against and
why.”

He sat down and opened the Bible, flipping through the pages. “Here we are. Ephesians
six, eleven to seventeen. ‘Put on the armor of God so that you may be able to stand firm
against the tactics of the devil. For our struggle is not with flesh and blood but with the
principalities, with the powers, with the world rulers of this present darkness, with the evil
spirits in the heavens. Therefore, put on the armor of God, that you may be able to resist on
the evil day and, having done everything, to hold your ground. So stand fast with your loins
girded in truth, clothed with righteousness as a breastplate, and your feet shod in readiness for
the gospel of peace. In all circumstances, hold faith as a shield, to quench all flaming arrows
of the evil one. And take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the
word of God.’”

As he read, I watched him. He read it well, maybe a little too well for somebody who
was just making a conversational point. It wasn’t like listening him read. It was like listening
to him give a sermon.

He slammed the Bible shut. “You see, Charlie? That’s what it’s all about. The demons
came and God expects us to stand up to them, to hold our ground. That’s why, after I got out
of the camp, I came here to St. Bonaventure. To resist, to protect these people from the
demons with the shield of faith, to hold back the darkness with the word of God.”

He sat back in the chair. “I’m a Jesuit. A soldier of God. I can’t stand by and let evil go
unchallenged.”

I would have used a different description, but it wasn’t worth arguing over. “I work the
secular side of the same street, Father,” I said. “Where we differ is interpretation. You
believe anything evil a Vee does is because the Vee is a demon, an agent of Satan. I was a cop
before the war. I saw the kind of unimaginable horror that people can inflict on each other.
Regular people.”

I shrugged. “Things seem about the same now, at least to me. Good people, bad people.
Whether they’re sucking down A-Positive or Jack Daniels doesn’t seem to make much
difference, one way or the other.”

“It’s all the same evil, Charlie,” Father McCray said, leaning forward. “Satan twisted the
souls of men, but we came to know his tricks. Sensing defeat, Satan sent his demons to
conquer us and bring us to heel. To close your eyes and pretend the demons are just
individuals with some . . .” He shook his head. “...disease, is to be a party to their
domination.”

I laughed. “You might want to save a little of that for tomorrow’s sermon.”

Father McCray stared at me for a long moment, then sat back and smiled. “You’re right.
I apologize. Sometimes it’s hard to temper my faith in the face of so many who can’t see.”

“We both see the same things, Father. We just view them differently.”

He nodded. “Perhaps. Let me ask you something, Charlie. Have you ever seen a
vampire in a church?”

“Maybe you hadn’t already guessed, Father, but I don’t spend a lot of time in church
myself. So the answer to your question is no, with extenuating circumstances.”

“I understand,” he said. “Me, I spend a great deal of time in church. I also speak to other
men of the cloth whenever I can. And one thing that we’ve all noticed is that vampires, or
Vees as you prefer to call them, stay away from houses of worship. It doesn’t matter whether
it’s a Catholic church, a Quaker meeting hall, a Jewish temple, or an Islamic mosque. If God
is worshiped there, vampires don’t come near. They don’t even set foot on the property.”

“Maybe they don’t see the point in going to church,” I said. “I mean, let’s face it, Father.
It’s not because they’re afraid. In the war, people found out pretty damn fast that crucifixes
and holy water didn’t have any effect on the Vees, any more, I guess, than a Star of David
would.”

“True enough,” Father McCray said. “The symbols of faith have no effect on the
demons.” He paused. “Would you say that the people taken by the demons and brought into
Satan’s domain were randomly chosen?”

“If you’re referring to the people who were turned in the war, and since, then yeah, I think
it was mostly random.” I thought of Bain telling me about needing to turn Joshua to
accomplish some task and of the recruiter at Delta-5 who offered eternal life to cops like Ray
Holstein. “Some may have been turned because of their position, or some skill they had. But
overall, I don’t think the Vees were picky. They needed bodies, and they took anybody they
could find.”

“Then you’d agree that they took the faithful along with those who had little or no faith.”

“No doubt,” I said. “But if you’re going to say that those faithful people stopped going to
church...” I shook my head. “That may be true, but it doesn’t mean they’re possessed by the
devil.”

Father McCray angled his head. “Bear with me a moment longer,” he said. “Would you
also agree that members of the clergy were taken as well.”

“I don’t know. I guess so.”

“Your guess would be correct,” he said. “Three priests that I personally knew were taken
by the demons. One of them, Father Kennedy, was one of the most devout men, perhaps the
most devout man, I’d ever known.”

“And I bet Father Kennedy is not currently giving sermons at Our Lady of the Bloody
Throat.”

“Father Kennedy is currently driving a cab. Since the day he was taken, he has never
again set foot inside a church, Catholic or otherwise.”

“Maybe it was time for a career change.”

“Father Kennedy is just an example,” he said. “None of the priests that I knew, in fact
none of the former clergymen who were taken, have returned to the pulpit. Doesn’t that strike
you as unusual? Most people drifted back into their old professions, or at least a related one,
after the war. You were a police officer, now you’re a private investigator. Not the same
thing, but very similar.”

“Interesting, but I still wouldn’t say it means what you think it does.”

“They wear our bodies as a disguise to hide their true natures,” Father McCray said. Then
he smiled. “Just think about it, Charlie. I’m not asking you to take up the cross and stand
beside me at Mass tomorrow. I’m just . . . broadening your horizons. Especially since you are
in such close contact with the demons. Your partner is one, isn’t he?”

“He’s not much of anything right now,” I said. “He was murdered a couple of nights
ago.”

Father McCray hesitated for a moment, then said, “I won’t lie and say I’m troubled by the
death of a member of Satan’s army, but if his death brought you sadness, then you have my
sympathy.”

“Been a whole lot of deaths this week,” I continued. “Including MaryAnn Klinger.
Which, is the main reason I’m here, I guess. Her mother wanted you to talk to me?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, sitting up. “Goodness, I was so involved with our little theological
debate that I completely forgot why you were here. Jane Klinger asked me to find out how
much you’re owed for your services. She doesn’t have much money, of course, but if you can
give me a rough amount, I’ll know what to shoot for when I pass the plate at tomorrow’s
service.”

“Mrs. Klinger’s account is closed out,” I said. “I’m not going to charge her for bringing
her daughter back to her in a coffin.”

“I’m sure you did everything humanly possible.”

“Sure I did. Doesn’t matter. The girl’s still dead.” I paused. “Don’t get me wrong,
Father, I’ve been in this business most of my adult life. I know you can’t save everybody.
But I’m not going to charge a grieving mother.”

“That’s very kind of you,” he said. “I’m sure that will be quite a load off her mind.”

“Now let me ask you something, Father. Did you know MaryAnn?”

“I met her once. Jane convinced her to come to services one Sunday. She seemed like a
nice girl, very pretty girl. Sadly, I don’t think she wanted to be here, and she never came
back.”

“What did you know about her?”

He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Just what Jane shared with me. MaryAnn was a troubled young woman.
She’d fallen in with the Neo-Goth movement that’s risen since people left the camps. They
don’t fear the demons. They are excited by them, and strive to imitate them in many ways.
Of course, there was a Goth movement when I was younger, but that was before the war,
before fantasies about vampires and creatures of the night became terrible reality.”

“Do you know who her friends were, where she hung out, that kind of thing?”

He shook his head. “Sorry. I know only what Jane knew, and she didn’t know much
about her daughter’s life outside the home. I blame Sam for that.”

“Sam?”

“Sam Klinger, Jane’s husband, MaryAnn’s father. A brutal man, profane, violent,
physical with Jane certainly, and probably with MaryAnn as well. It was Sam who threw
MaryAnn out of the house.” He shook his head. “The man hated the demons, hated them
with a passion. He couldn’t bear the thought of his daughter being around them.”

“I understand Mrs. Klinger later threw him out.”

“Not exactly,” Father McCray said. “My understanding from Jane is that Sam just up and
left about a month ago. Grabbed a few items of clothing and deserted Jane. I don’t want to
sound as though I’m condoning a man abandoning his wife, but in this case, it was certainly
for the best, at least for Jane.”

“Where did he go?”

“Don’t know. Nobody seems to know.” He paused. “It’s a big city. Easy to get lost if
you want to.”

“That’s a fact,” I said. “So there’s nothing else you can remember about MaryAnn?”

He shook his head. “I wish I could be of more help. Why is it important? She’s dead. I
thought you said the account is closed.”

“Her murder is connected to some other murders I’m investigating, including my
partner’s. I believe if I can put it all together, I’m going to find out who’s behind it, maybe
even who killed them.” I smiled. “Forgive me, Father, I’m still a cop at heart. I want to close
the case and get the sons-of-bitches who killed my partner and the others.”

“I can understand . . .” he began.

The cell phone in my pocket started to ring.

I held up my hand and pulled it out. “Welles,” I said.

“Takeda,” she said, her voice still thick with sleep. “Chelsea Wilkins was taken into
custody fifteen minutes ago. She’s probably already at the Downtown District police station.”

“Got it,” I said, standing.

As I stuck the phone back in my pocket, Father McCray said, “A cell phone. Working
with the demons has its privileges.”

“It’s okay, Father,” I said. “The phone’s only on loan, so I’ll get my soul back when I
close the case. Anyway, I gotta run. Thanks for the chat. If I need spiritual guidance, I’ll be
in touch.”

“Go with God, Charlie,” he said, staring up at me.

On my way out, I dropped a couple of twenty dollar bills in the collection plate that sat on
one of the empty pews.