Those Who Fight Monsters (33 page)

Once it had become obvious that Linda was never going to have her long-dreamed-of perfect, bright-eyed child, that her baby would not be an accessory to her life, but that she would be one of her baby’s — a constant care giver, the rest of her days devoted to a child who could barely respond to the simplest stimuli — she had begun talking with Albert about placing their daughter in a home. Such was not an option as far as he was concerned. And so it was, after a year and five months of marriage, and twenty-two weeks of parenthood, that Albert had been left alone with his speechless daughter to stare at the numbing future ahead of them.

“This is a friend of mine,” Knight said. Giving his companion a moment, he seemed to be allowing the wrinkled black woman time to regain her strength. It had been a long walk, up the front walk from the curb to the car, and she was old, very old. It was obvious to Albert that the woman had been beautiful in her time. Indeed, her black eyes held a shine that seemed to belie the deep wrinkles.

“Madame Sarna Raniella, meet Albert Harper.” The old woman nodded in a friendly enough fashion, but did not offer her hand.

Pointing toward the child sitting motionless in the living room beyond, Knight said to Harper, “Madame Raniella is going to sit with Debbie for a few minutes, while we take a walk outside.” Knight turned to the old woman, and, seemingly responding to an unspoken question, she said, “As we discussed, I shall talk to her, Piers. Constantly. Fear not — I will keep her engaged.”

“Good. As long as she doesn’t answer, everything should be fine.”

Without a further word, she made her slow way toward the sofa. Sitting down near Debbie, she began a seemingly endless stream of conversation. She spoke with the girl about cartoons she remembered, the snack cakes her mother had baked her, how fascinating it was that leaves changed colors in the fall — apparently anything that came to mind. Albert noticed that her gaze seemed intently focused on Debbie.

On her eyes
, he thought.
She’s watching her eyes
.

And then he finally responded to the gentle pressure on his arm, allowing Knight to maneuver him out onto his front porch and down the steps. As the two men headed for the sidewalk, Albert said, “Going to tell me what this is all about now?”

“Yes, I am. And I’m not certain how you’re going to react. I have something very disturbing … well, not to me, but to you…

Knight stopped speaking, obviously at a complete loss as to how to proceed. It was clear something of great importance was clawing at him, demanding release. Suddenly, as if struck by inspiration, he said, “Albert, you once told me the story of the first time you held Debbie. Tell it again, won’t you?” Harper looked at his friend through hard eyes. He started to protest, but Knight cut him off gently.

“I understand your reluctance, my boy. Truly. But I promise you, I have a purpose.
I do
.” Harper turned his head away, his shoulders shaking slightly. After a moment’s silence, however, he closed his eyes and began to speak.

“It was in the delivery room. Debbie’d just been born. I was standing there a little stunned. They’d cut Linda; I wasn’t expecting, no one had warned me … blood had just flown through the air. ‘Normal,’ they said. ‘Nothing to worry about’ — but I wish someone had prepared me for … anyway, let’s just say I was in a state, you know?”

Knight nodded, listening patiently.

“So, while I’m still reeling from it all, out of nowhere the nurse brings Debbie over to me.” Harper’s face softened, the approaching memory so gladdening his heart the air seemed to freshen about him.

“She was so tiny, so fragile, I took her from the nurse, and I was staring at her. Of course, her eyes weren’t open, but I could feel this, this need, you know, spilling out of her, looking for something to grab onto, and before I knew it, I’d raised her up to where I could press my forehead against hers, and when I did that, I swear I felt her
inside my mind. I
…”

Knight waited, but Harper stopped his thought, choking it back, as if suddenly spent. After a moment’s silence, he muttered, “Anyway, you know all that.”

“I wanted to hear you tell it again. I wanted to see if you still believed it.”

“Why wouldn’t I believe it? I was
there
. I
know
it happened.”

“Yes, of course,” Knight responded, “but after all these years, with Debbie’s reversal, with no further contact with that mind you swear you felt, it is possible you might start to believe you imagined the whole thing.”

Knight let the fall breeze blow about them for a moment, then interrupted its soft whisper. “Have you, Albert? Have you ever been tempted to think you were wrong about that day?”

Harper’s eyes narrowed. When he finally spoke, his voice came out low and growling, bitter with sarcasm. “Sure, all the time. That’s why I let my wife walk out. That’s why I still won’t put Debbie in a home. And that’s why I’m working double shifts, driving my mother and aunts half-crazy baby sitting! How can you ask me that? How, Goddamnit? You know what Debbie means to me!”

“I do, Albert—”

“I’m telling you…” Harper paused, his voice choking, eyes threatening to betray him, “I
know
— I know she’s in there somewhere. I
felt
it. I goddamn well
felt
it, do you understand? You’re not taking that away from me.
Nobody’s
taking that away from me!”

“I’m not trying to,” Knight told him softly. “And I apologize for upsetting you. But it had to be done.” Knight tilted his head down for a moment, running a hand through his hair and then down the back of his neck.

“You see, I’m going to tell you something. Something incredible. Something you may not be able to comprehend. But you must trust me about one thing. I believe what you just said. I don’t just believe that you believe it, I think it happened
just as you said
.

“And after that,” Knight added, his voice going dark and stiff, “I think something monstrous happened. Something I don’t quite know if I will be able to explain or prove to you.”

Harper turned to stare at him. The two had reached the end of his neighborhood, and were on the edge of the local business district. After surveying the block for a moment, Knight said, “Over there, I think. Come on.”

Knight moved them close to a wall between two storefronts, their large neon signs buzzing “Sarah Jane’s Boutique” and “Hobbies & Crafts” on either side of them. When he looked at Harper again, his expression was grim.

“Albert, I’m going to simply say this as bluntly as possible — I do not believe your daughter has Down syndrome. I believe she is possessed.”

Harper gaped, as if his mind could not choose between the hundreds of possible responses that were all occurring to him at once. Before he could speak, Knight went on.

“You must understand, I came across the general idea the first time years ago. It’s an ancient notion, and in older times people were more prone to recognize the signs. But, simply put, oftentimes what we think of today as Alzheimer’s, or Parkinson’s or DS, cancer, all manner of ailments — they’re really cases of demonic possession.” Harper shook his head several times, as if trying to drive the idea out of his brain.

“We’ve known each other a long time,” answered the younger man, “and a joke this sick is completely out of character for you. So, all right. Let’s say you’re not deranged.” Throwing his hands up helplessly, Albert demanded;

“If you’re not, then just what am I supposed to do? Call the church? Get a witch doctor? Bring in the
Enquirer
— what?
What
?”

“Calm yourself, Albert.” As Harper turned away, Knight put up a hand and gently stopped him. “And, please trust me when I say you don’t want to leave this spot, just yet.”

Harper made a gesture that took in the wall, the neon, the sidewalk — everything. “Why? What’s so damn special?”

“My research has led me to a number of references to priests and shamans, across cultures and throughout history, waiting for thunderstorms, so they could prepare their defenses against such creatures.” Pointing to all the pulsing lights behind them, the professor said;

“Apparently these ‘entities’ dare not approach a barrier of charged electrons. No one knows why, although many mythologies posit lightning as a weapon of the gods, not their infernal counterparts. In any case, if there is a demon involved here, and it is trying to listen to us, it shouldn’t be able to make anything out through all the interference these signs are putting out.”

“You’re serious; you’re really serious. Aren’t you?” Harper snapped, teetering between rage and tears.

“Yes, Albert, I am. And if after all the years you’ve devoted to your daughter, if you’re ready to risk throwing away what time you have left on this Earth in a desperate gamble of freeing her from this thing’s clutches, I may be able to help you.”

Harper tried to stop thinking like a protective father and strove instead to actually listen to his friend. Part of his mind had instantly rejected what he was hearing out of hand. Such ludicrous jabber was, obviously, insanity.

New Age grasping at straws. Superstition.

Nonsense.

On the other hand, a different section of his mind added, knee-jerk reactions were often born from fear. Applying only a tiny bit of rationality to the subject, Albert had to admit the professor had travelled the world to seek out the occult in a thousand dark and terrible places. The older man had told him incredible stories over the years, swearing they were true. And because it was Knight relating the accounts, the younger man had believed them.

Harper knew with utter certainty that the professor would not have come to him that night if they were not friends. Looking into Knight’s eyes, he understood it was time for him to make a decision. The younger man admitted he was not certain what he believed, but he could not think of any reason why the professor would lie about such a thing. Glancing left, then right, Harper looked at the electrical signs supposedly protecting his thoughts, then said;

“All right, let’s not waste all this fine wattage. Tell me what you know.”

“Demons,” said Knight, “in these deceptive cases of possession, are not torturing the souls they possess. Their purpose is far more devious. They torture the care-givers; crippling their lives, disrupting possible futures by diminishing those it was deemed good to distract. Reshaping fate, the monsters terrorize with guilt and duty, forcing those they feared to bleed rather than build. Holy men in every century have been attacked thus, their families set upon by afflictions brought, we have been told, by minions of Satan.”

“You’re saying I’m supposed to be some sort of holy man?”

“I’m saying that some thing has taken an interest in you for reasons the two of us will never be able to interpret. The motivations of demons are their own, and a distraction from what is important at this moment.”

Knight was careful to look about from time to time. He felt safe from supernatural spies between the glaring neon displays, but he did not relish the notion of their conversation being interrupted by human agents, whether unduly optimistic muggers or an unusually curious police officer.

“Albert, understand — demonic possession is real, and it’s terrible. Then again, so are scorpions. So is bubonic plague. We can get used to anything we can comprehend. But moreover, we can stand up to it, as well.”

Having gotten Albert to the point where he was willing to accept the possibility of Debbie’s possession, Knight then explained what he might be able to do about it.

“That day in the hospital, when you placed your head to hers, felt her mind, new and fresh and searching, touching yours, melding with yours — all you need do this time is go further. Go all the way inside…”

Knight paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. His eyes locked with his friend’s, he said, “Once there, you’ll have to find this thing, drag it out of Debbie, and kick its literally Goddamned ass until it leaves her for good.”

“I just go into her mind and stop this thing, just like that?” Harper’s tone was a mix of incredulity and near-hysteria. “I mean, saying this is all real, this
demon
I’m going to go after, it’s been doing this kind of thing for thousands of years. How am I supposed to, I mean … shouldn’t I, I don’t know — what? I…”

The professor made to speak, but Harper cut him off, racing forward with his thoughts.

“I’m not afraid, not of dying — that’s not it. It’s Debbie. If something goes wrong, if I screw this up, I could be destroyed, wind up brain dead, or completely dead — right?” When Knight nodded, Harper went on. “Okay, say it happens. I’m not good enough. I go down. I’m dead. What happens to Debbie then? Who takes care of her?”

“You’re being straightforward,” Knight said, “so I’ll return the courtesy. The way Debbie is now, it really doesn’t matter who cares for her — does it? If you die, she becomes a ward of the state. She lives out her vegetable existence and then follows you into oblivion. End of the Harpers.”