The Banshee (9 page)

“I knew I wasn't dreaming. That thing was here.”

The three agreed to stay together and take turns on watch for the remainder of the night. In the morning David put together a breakfast of ham and eggs. It was not until they sat back to sip the coffee that they speak of the days business.

“I called Keith earlier and filled him in on everything. He will meet us at the office,” Murphy said, still looking tired but not flushed as yesterday.

“What about weapons? If we can't kill this thing what's the sense?” shrugged Carl.

“I have a revolver and rifle for each of us. We may meet some human trouble,” he answered, meaning the worshippers. They finished their coffee and headed for the police station, noticing the front door again as they passed.

“I sort of hope we don't find this thing,” Carl said with a tinge of fear in his voice. Murphy and David nodded silently in agreement.

Keith was already at the office when they arrived. Murphy went to the weapons locker and removed two holstered revolvers. He passed one to David, the other to Carl then approached a wall map of Wexford.

“We'll circle the heights in two cars, one east along route eight, the other from the west along the Providence road. We should be able to check a lot of area before we meet at the entrance to the southern slope. Hopefully we'll have enough daylight to walk the path along the slope.”

“Why don't we go after those damn worshippers?” Keith asked, frustrated.

“We will, when we know who to go after.”

The four men headed silently to the two patrol cars, Murphy and the doctor in the lead car followed by Keith and David. It was not until he turned onto the highway that Keith spoke.

“The Chief is positive it was his wife?”

“Positive,” answered David, keeping an eye on the passing forest.

“Did that thing kill her?”

“No, she was killed as a sacrifice to place in Isabel's grave, sort of a door they needed to let Isabel's spirit out.”

“Bastards…” Keith hit the steering wheel with his open hand. “Colleen Murphy was a beautiful person. It's tearing the Chief up inside, he adored her.”

David thought again of Colleen and tried to reason why she came to him.
Why not her husband, Keith, or anyone else?
He could not remember ever meeting her. Was it a warning, about Isabel?

They pulled off the pavement and bumped along a dusty fire road leading into the forest, stopping at a spot overlooking the town. David recognized it as the place he had talked with Nancy before visiting Mrs. Toomey. The other patrol car pulled up behind them. Taking their weapons and flashlights, they gathered by a path that led along the southern slope.

“We didn't see a thing,” announced Carl.

“Same here,” said Keith.

“Okay,” Murphy began, “we only have a few hours of daylight left. I don't want to be out here at night, so let's check out this slope, single file and not more than ten yards apart, let's go.”

In silence, they followed the Chief. His pace was rapid at first, as though they were late for an appointment but as the slope grew steeper, they slowed.

“How far are we going?” Carl asked, breathing heavily.

“If we head back now we can reach the cars by night fall,” David suggested, leaning against a pine tree. “We can continue tomorrow.”

“Okay,” replied Murphy, breathing as heavy as Carl. “I don't think any of us are up for anymore today. We'll take a break and head back.”

“A fine idea,” responded Carl, sitting on a bed of pine needles.

The sun had been under the horizon for nearly twenty minutes when they reached the cars. When the cool night air touched the perspiration on David's flesh, it sent a shiver along his spine. Keith walked to the edge of the overlook and alerted the others. “What do you make of that?”

To the right and below their location a distinct flicker of flame appeared like a new star in a black sky.

“Someone's got a nice blaze going,” Keith remarked.

Several dark figures were moving through the flickering light that illuminated the open area. “Maybe it's those Satan worshippers?” questioned Carl.

“Damn, you may be right, doc.” Keith's adrenaline was pumping, his eyes alert and hopeful.

Murphy took a pair of binoculars from his car and returned to the ridge. He steadied them as best he could and focused the lens. Shapes of several people came into view, walking or prancing some ridiculous motion around the open flame. They were too far away to identify, but the Chief was certain they were the worshippers.

“It's the Johnson farm house. Let's get down there,” said Murphy, running to the car. All four were on the fire road out and back onto the highway within a minute. Quickly they traveled, keeping the blue emergency lights off so as not to forewarn those at the blaze. Murphy opted not to alert the volunteer fire department, hoping the already ruined and abandoned building would completely burn to the ground. With any luck, the barn would go as well.

They turned onto the Johnson farm road and switched off the headlights. The cars rolled quietly closer. Now they could see the fire consuming boards pulled from the barn piled in the area in front of the house. Hot embers floated from the sky, illuminating the scene showing dozens of naked people dancing and milling about the fire, unaware the patrol cars neared.

At the last moment, Murphy turned on the blue lights and sped past the rail fence, sliding to a stop near the barn door. Keith followed suit, stopping by the front porch of the house in a cloud of dust. He quickly joined the Chief running after the startled worshippers into the field behind the barn.

“Strangest thing I ever saw,” Carl said, standing beside David. Before he could answer, Murphy's voice came from around the side of the barn.

“Put this over you,” he said, handing a blanket to a naked man.

“I'll be damned,” Carl exclaimed, recognizing a naked Art Finley.

“Care to explain yourself?” asked Murphy.

Finley glanced at him with strange, blank eyes and replied coldly, “We celebrate.”

Keith approached empty handed from the field and joined them.

“What are you celebrating?” Murphy gripped Finley's arm tightly.

“The fulfillment of the prince's promise,” he answered, not batting an eye at the pressure Murphy exerted on his arm.

“Can I see you for a moment, Chief?” interrupted David.

Murphy placed Finley in Keith's grasp and joined David by the fire. He pointed to a design etched into the earth.

“You wanted to show me a star?” Murphy asked confused.

“It's called a pentacle, used in ceremonial magic. Two points facing north represents Satan,” David explained.

Murphy grinned and walked back to Finley. “I believe we have Father Ahern's Satan worshippers. Maybe we can find out something about Isabel.”

The yard was silent except for the crackling fire. Murphy stood in front of Finley, staring directly into his eyes. He was deciding whether he should wipe the smirk off Finley's face or just shoot him.

“I still don't understand what you were celebrating?” The Chief's voice growled between clenched teeth.

“The risen spirit of Isabel,” Finley answered, beaming with pride.

“What do you know about my wife?”

“Ah, your wife...” Finley cherished the memory. “So young and vibrant, a pity she had to be sacrificed, a very good fuc—”

“You son of a bitch…” Murphy shouted, jumping on Finley, cutting off Finley's words by taking him by the throat and tossing him against the hood of the car.

“I'll kill you right now and send you to your prince,” Murphy yelled.

Carl and David struggled with Murphy to release his grip that was turning Finley's face purple. Keith yanked Finley away and cuffed him, then placed him into the back seat of the patrol car.

“Take it easy, Chief,” Carl said to Murphy. “We need you clear headed.”

Murphy leaned against the car and took in gulps of night air. He calmed himself and raised his palms in a show of composure.

“I'm okay, you're right, I'm sorry. Take him back to a cell,” Murphy said pointing to Finley. “You'll have to baby-sit him, I'm afraid of what I'll do. Tomorrow we three continue the search,” Murphy said, eyeing Carl and David.

* * * *

Keith locked Finley in the last cell in the rear of the police office. He refused water, food, clothing, and a phone. He just sat on the metal bed wrapped in the blanket Murphy gave him at the farm. He wore a sneer plastered across his face, his eyes trance-like.

“Father Ahern knew about these people?” asked Keith.

“He did,” Murphy answered. “He knew they were out there and up to no good but never could find them. I think he will be as shocked about all this as we are. I'll call and tell him we found his worshippers, see if he can take your place tomorrow.”

Murphy dialed the rectory as David turned to Carl. “I'm going to make sure Nancy gets home and I want to see Mrs. Toomey. She may have more information.”

“Remember mum's the word and we leave early tomorrow,” Murphy said, listening to the phone ring at the rectory.

“I'll be ready,” David said.

* * * *

At Kelly's, the television competed over the customer's voices. A group waited near the pool table and another by the pinball machine for a turn to play or cheer on their champions. Not an empty stool was at the bar. Nancy busily mixed drinks and helped the overwhelmed part-time waitress deliver drinks to the booths and tables.

David headed for the bar with thoughts of Father Ahern's words running through his mind, reminding him of the worshippers who pretended to be God-fearing souls.

Whom could he trust? Who in this place was a worshipper, and who was on Isabel's list to die? Was this man beside him one of those who fled the Johnson farm tonight? Did that woman playing pool witness the slaying of Colleen Murphy?

Nancy scrambled past him with a tray of beer mugs and set it down at a table. The mugs were half-empty before she could return to the bar.

“Hey stranger, where have you been all day?” she asked, brushing the bangs from her eyes.

“I was with the Chief checking on something.”

“Checking on something?” she grinned.

“Nothing important, I'll be with him tomorrow too. He's short-handed so I volunteered my services,” he lied.

“That was nice of you. What did he say about that nonsense Mrs. Toomey told you?” Nancy asked, motioning to a customer she would be right there to take his order.

“He listened to me and said I was crazy, like you said he would.”

“I told you he wouldn't believe anything that fruitcake woman had to say,” she smiled sweetly.

“I'm going to see her tonight,” David replied.

Nancy looked surprised, even a little perturbed. She walked towards the thirsty customer who had been waiting patiently. “What for, can't you see she's nuts?”

Nancy handed the customer his drink then swiftly leaned to him and spoke fast and softly. He nodded, gulped his drink and left.

“Did you dig up Isabel's grave?” she asked, returning to David.

“Nothing but bones.” David knew the lies kept coming but he could not give away the secret and possibly start a panic. He stepped to the door. “I should go. I'm really tired.”

“Wait a minute,” she said, taking his hand. “How about hanging around awhile? I haven't seen you all day.”

“No, thanks,” David said, although he ached to be with her. He needed to see if Mrs. Toomey could provide any more insight to destroy Isabel. “I have to get up early.”

“I know, checking on things with the Chief. Okay, if playing policeman is more important than me,” she smiled seductively, “I guess I understand.”

David's passion surged. He thought of surrendering to those alluring eyes but remembered the evil in town. “I'm sorry Nancy, I'll see you tomorrow night, I promise.”

“Promise?” she asked. He nodded yes and walked away.

“See that Art gets a blanket, David. It's chilly tonight,” she called out to him.

He waved and walked out into the clear night air.

* * * *

The only light in the Toomey home came from the living room. The surrounding yard was as dark and foreboding as an unknown cave. The ancient window curtains were yellow and unwashed, preventing him from seeing into the room. The bell went unanswered. He knocked and the door creaked open.

“Hello,” he called out, “Mrs. Toomey, are you home?”

He entered the hallway and gazed curiously into the living room. From the dim illumination of a pole lamp with a dusty tasselled shade, he could see the study door. He stopped noticing something wrong; the door hung by one hinge. David slowly approached, feeling the humidity increase.

Oh, boy,
he thought.

“Mrs. Toomey, please answer me,” he said, beginning to perspire heavily from the sauna-like heat. It dripped into his eyes as the Chief had said happened to him. He entered the study.

The leather chair behind the desk turned away, its back facing him. He debated between turning the chair and running like hell. He wondered what made him do these crazy things but right now, it was telling him to turn the chair. Taking a deep breath, he quickly spun the chair.

It took a few precious seconds, seconds that he could have used to be on his way, seconds to register who the mutilated body in the chair was. He ran from the desk, from the body of the old woman, past the destroyed French doors, out from the horror in that house. Only when he was safely down the street with tires squealing did he stop screaming.