This Present Darkness (45 page)

For the longest time she didn’t move. She was afraid. The implications were clear enough—how long would it be before they struck her or Marshall? She wondered what Marshall would find at Strachan’s, she wondered what her own home looked like, and she realized there were no police to call; the police were with
them.

Finally she slipped quietly out the door, wrote Weed a quick note in case he ever came back, and shoved it in the crack just above the doorknob. She looked this way and that and then went along the corridor and back down the stairs again.

Just one flight below the second floor, a wall formed a blind corner between the two flights at the middle landing. Bernice was just thinking how she didn’t like blind corners in a place like this, and how the lighting was so poor …

A black figure leaped at her from the flight below. Her body slammed into the old shiplap wall as her teeth clapped together.

The man in leather! A rough, dirty hand grabbing a fistful of blouse. A violent, sideways jerk. Tearing cloth, her body reeling. An impact like an explosion in her left ear. A blurred, hate-filled face.

She was falling. Her arms went out against the rough plank corner, they were limp, they buckled, she slid down the wall to the floor. A black boot blotted out her vision, her glasses were driven into her face, her skull thudded against the wall. She went numb. Her body kept jerking about—he was still hitting her.

Step step step step step step step—he was gone.

She was dreaming, her head was reeling, there was blood upon the floor and broken glasses in bent pieces. She slumped against the wall, still feeling the fist in her ear and the boot in her face, and hearing
blood dripping from her mouth and her nose. The floor drew her down like a magnet until her head finally thumped on the boards.

She whimpered, a gurgling sound as blood and saliva bubbled over her tongue. She spit it all out, raised her head, and cried out in a sound that was half cry, half moan.

From somewhere up above, the boards began to pound and clatter with a sudden flow of traffic. She heard people shouting, swearing, thundering down the steps. She couldn’t move; she kept half-dreaming as light and sound faded in and out, were there, were not there. Hands began to hold her, move her, cradle her. A cloth wiped across her mouth. She felt the new warmth of a blanket. A towel kept dabbing her face. She gurgled again, spit again. She heard someone swear again.

MARSHALL STILL WOULDN’T
reply to any questions, although the detective at the Windsor Precinct kept trying.

“We’re talking about murder here, bub!” the detective said. “Now we have it from reliable sources that you were there at Harmel’s place early this morning, and that’s right near the time of death. Do you have anything to say about that?”

This flunky was born yesterday, Marshall thought. Sure, punk, I’ll tell you all about it so you can hang me! In a pig’s eye it was murder.

But what really bothered Marshall was just who this “reliable source” was, and how that reliable source not only knew he’d been at Harmel’s, but also knew these cops could find him at Strachan’s. He was still working on the answer to that riddle.

The detective asked, “So you’re still not going to say anything?”

Marshall wouldn’t even nod or shake his head.

“Well,” the detective said with a half shrug, “at least give me the name of your lawyer. You’re going to need counsel.”

Marshall had no name to give him and couldn’t even think of one. It became a waiting game.

“Spence,” said a deputy, “you’ve got a call from Ashton.”

The detective picked up the phone at his desk. “Nelson. Oh, hi there, Alf. What’s up?”

Alf Brummel?

“Yeah,” the detective said, “he’s right here. Would you like to talk
to him? He sure won’t talk to
us.
” He offered Marshall the receiver. “Alf Brummel.”

Marshall took the receiver. “Yeah, this is Hogan.”

Alf Brummel was acting shocked and dismayed. “Marshall, what’s going on up there?”

“I can’t say.”

“They tell me Ted Harmel was murdered and that they have you as a suspect. Is that true?”

“I can’t say.”

Alf was beginning to catch on. “Marshall … listen, I’m calling to see if I can help. Now, I’m sure there’s been a mistake and I’m sure we can work something out. What were you doing up at Harmel’s place anyway?”

“I can’t say.”

That flustered him. “Marshall, for crying out loud, will you just forget that I’m a cop? I’m also your friend. I want to help you!”

“Do it.”

“I want to. I really want to. Now listen, let me talk to Detective Nelson again. Maybe we can work something out.”

Marshall handed the receiver back to Nelson. Nelson and Brummel talked for a while, and it sounded like they knew each other pretty well.

“Well, you might be able to do more with him than I ever will,” said Nelson quite pleasantly. “Sure, why not? Huh? Yeah, okay.” Nelson looked at Marshall. “He’s on another line. Guess he’ll vouch for you, and I think he can take jurisdiction over your case, if there is one.”

Marshall nodded all too knowingly. Now Brummel would have Marshall right where he wanted him. If there was a case! If there wasn’t one, Brummel would find one. What would it be now, Harmel and Hogan running a child-molesting ring with a gangland-type murder?

Nelson heard Brummel come back on the line. “Yeah, hello. Yeah sure.” Nelson handed Marshall the receiver again.

Brummel was upset, or at least he sounded like it. “Marshall, that was the fire district that just called. They’ve just sent an aid car out toward Baker. It’s Bernice; she’s been assaulted.”

Marshall never thought he’d hope Brummel
was
lying. “Tell me more.”

“We won’t know more until they get out there. It won’t take long. Listen, they’re going to release you on personal recognizance under my supervision. You’d better get back to Ashton right away. Can you see me in my office at, say, 3?”

Marshall thought he would have a seizure trying to contain all the cuss words he had for this whole thing. “I’ll be there, Alf. Nothing could keep me away.”

“Good, I’ll see you then.”

Marshall returned the receiver to Nelson.

Nelson smiled and said, “We’ll take you back to your car.”

THE MAN IN
black leather was back in Ashton, running down the streets and then through the alleys like a man possessed, looking behind him, panting, crying, terrified.

Five cruel spirits rode on his back, ducked in and out of his body, clung to him like huge leeches, their talons deeply embedded in his flesh. But they were not in control. They too were terrified.

Just above the five demons and their running victim, six angelic warriors floated along with their swords drawn, moving this way and that, to the right, to the left, whatever it took to keep the demons herded in the right direction.

The demons hissed and spit and made shooing motions with their sinewy hands.

The young man ran, swatting at invisible bees.

The young man and his demons came to a corner. They tried to go left. The angels blocked their way and prodded them with their swords to the right. With a cry and a terrible wailing, the demons fled to the right.

The demons began to cry for mercy. “No! Let us alone!” they pleaded. “You have no right!”

Just up the street, Hank Busche and Andy Forsythe were walking together, taking some time to share their burdens and pray.

Right alongside them walked Triskal, Krioni, Seth, and Scion. The four warriors all saw what their comrades were herding their way, and they were more than ready.

“Time for an object lesson for the man of God,” said Krioni.

Triskal only beckoned to the demons with his finger and said, “Come, come!”

Andy looked down the street and saw the man first. “Well …!”

“What?” asked Hank, seeing the dumfounded look on Andy’s face.

“Get ready. Here comes Bobby Corsi!”

Hank looked and cringed at the sight of a wild-looking character running toward them, his eyes filled with terror, his arms beating the air as he battled unseen enemies.

Andy cautioned, “Be careful. He could be violent.”

“Oh, terrific!”

They stood still and waited to see what Bobby would do.

Bobby saw them and cried out in even more terror, “No, no! Leave us alone!”

Heaven’s warriors were bad enough, but the five demons wanted no part of Busche and Forsythe. They twisted Bobby around and tried to run away, but were instantly hemmed in by the angelic six.

Bobby stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at nothing ahead of him, then looked at Hank and Andy, then looked again at his unseen enemies. He screamed, standing still where he was, his hands clawlike and trembling, his eyes bulging and glazed.

Hank and Andy moved forward very slowly.

“Easy, Bobby,” Andy said soothingly. “Take it easy now.”

“No!” Bobby screamed. “Leave us alone! We want no business with you!”

An angel gave one of the demons a prod with the tip of his sword.

“Awww!” Bobby cried out in pain, collapsing to his knees. “Leave us alone, leave us alone!”

Hank stepped forward quickly and said firmly, “In Jesus’ name, be quiet!” Bobby let out one more scream. “Be quiet!”

Bobby grew still and began to weep, kneeling there on the sidewalk.

“Bobby,” said Hank, bending down and speaking gently, “Bobby, can you hear me?”

A demon clapped his hands over Bobby’s ears. Bobby did not hear Hank’s question.

Hank, hearing from the Spirit of God, knew what the demon was doing. “Demon, in the name of Jesus, let go of his ears.”

The demon jerked his hands away, a surprised look on his face.

Hank asked again, “Bobby?”

This time Bobby answered, “Yeah, preacher, I hear you.”

“Do you want to be free from these spirits?”

Immediately one demon answered, “No, you don’t! He belongs to us,” and Bobby spit the words in Hank’s face, “No, you don’t! He belongs to us!”

“Spirit, be quiet. I’m talking to Bobby.”

The demon said no more, but backed off sulkingly.

Bobby muttered, “I’ve just done a horrible thing …” He began to weep. “You gotta help me … I can’t stop from doing this stuff …”

Hank spoke quietly aside to Andy. “Let’s get him somewhere where we can deal with him, where he can make a scene if he has to.”

“The church?”

“Come on, Bobby.”

They took him by his arms and helped him up, and the three, and the five, and the six, and the four headed up the street.

MARSHALL SPED THROUGH
Baker and then made a quick swing by the apartment complex where Weed lived. There seemed to be no activity there, so he drove on into Ashton. When he reached the hospital, the aid car was parked outside.

An emergency medical technician who was securing the stretcher back in the vehicle filled Marshall in. “She’s in the emergency room, two doors down.”

Marshall burst through the main doors and got to the right room in an instant. He heard a cry of pain from Bernice just as he reached the door.