A Latent Dark (12 page)

“Because,” said Father Thomas, “the girl and her mother were my parishioners. I was responsible for them.”

“You ejected them from your church, Father.” Lyle spoke slowly, as if to a child. “I believe that when you decided to do that, you pretty much abandoned that cause.”

“Well, cause or not, I would like to think that I could have helped before all this happened.”

“And just how would you have helped?” said Lyle, leaning in. “I’m genuinely curious. You know as well as I do that something was protecting that house, otherwise your citizens would have burned it years ago. They were sharpening their pitchforks as soon as she got that woman killed.”

“I could have gotten them to invite me,” said Father Thomas. “I honestly think that the daughter trusted me.”

 “Well, it was bound to happen eventually,” said Lyle. He reached into his jacket pocket and winced. “A woman with those kind of problems. Poor thing.”

Spare me the theatrics
, thought John.

“I still would have appreciated some notice before you went ahead with this investigation,” said Father Thomas.

The Reverend Summers held his hands out, palms up. “Father Thomas, if I had done that, it would have meant contacting every parish in the archdiocese. Do you honestly think that I had time to go through your bureaucracy? Events were already in motion.” He grabbed the silver cigarette case from his coat and drew a small white roll from it.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t smoke,” said Thomas.

Lyle let the cigarette dangle in his mouth. He placed the silver container back in his pocket with an exasperated sigh.

“Father Thomas,” he said. “I did not come here to get your blessing. I am perfectly capable of blessing my crusades all by myself. In fact, I did not have to come here at all. For all I care, you could have just gone on wondering why Lynn might have burned her house down. I know how touchy The Church is about suicide.”

“Either way,” said Father Thomas. “It doesn’t do anyone much good, now that a family has been destroyed and a girl orphaned. You’re lucky if I don’t go straight to the archbishop with this.”

Lyle laughed. It was a high cackle. For a moment the Reverend Lyle Summers looked like a corpse, animated through an electrical current and dressed in his finest white linen suit.

“Oh, you go right ahead and do that,” said Lyle, wiping a tear. “In fact, we could both go see him together.”

John only stared at the man. He began to say something but his mouth wouldn’t move. The Reverend Lyle Summers grinned at him.

 “I think you overestimate your pull with The Church these days, John. Now, how about we get back to the matter at hand?”

John let out a slow breath. “Are there any remains?”

“None,” Lyle said. “A clean burn. I’ve seen it a hundred times. The demons possess them and they lose control. Burn themselves up before they lose what’s left of their souls… not that suicide matters at that point. A damned soul is a damned soul after all.”

“And you exorcised the premises?”

“I did,” Lyle said with a nod, fondling the unlit cigarette between two fingers. “What was left of them, anyway.”

“So the entire place was burned when you got there?”

“To a crisp.”

John gave a skeptical grunt.

“Now,” said Lyle. “I believe I have been generous enough with your interrogation and I have a few questions of my own.”

John leaned back in his chair and exhaled. The Reverend ignored his exasperation.

“First, you knew that there was witchcraft in your city, and yet you did nothing. Is that correct?” The Reverend had become formal, as if recording the conversation.

“‘Witchcraft’ is a very dated term, Reverend Inspector. You are talking like a man out of the Dark Ages. And I was
going
to do something until you showed up.”

“Please,” said Lyle, “The house would have burned while you waited in your pulpit for them to invite you in. Who would be so stupid?”

“Lynn was troubled, she—”

“The woman was a witch,” Lyle snapped. “Her daughter was a witch and is running loose as you sit here wasting time in your nice big wooden chair.”

“It is a mental illness. Lynn was schizophrenic, saw things that weren’t there.”

“As did several members of your congregation, if I recall.” He whipped out a small notepad and flipped through the pages. “Dark shadows in the corner of the church. Someone recalled the woman drawing a demon out of the walls. Any of this ring a bell, Father?”

John stumbled over his words for a moment, as if tripped.

“People see things when they’re scared,” said John. “The mind plays tricks. What you are talking about is ridiculous, frankly.”

“You can call it whatever you like,” said Lyle. “Trust me on this. Something big was summoned to do the damage I saw in that house. That was no hallucination.”

I thought you said it was burned when you arrived
, thought John. “You were investigating the house, Reverend. Were you at the church?”

“The reason I am here,” Lyle snapped, “is not to answer questions. I am here to ask them.”

John leaned back in his chair and gave a drawn-out sigh. He waved a hand. “Ask away.”

“Let’s talk about the incident that happened to your parish,” Lyle said. “When the woman became possessed.”

“I don’t think she was possessed,” John said. “She was very aware of what she was saying. And she clearly believed what she saw.”

Lyle waved this away. “Unless you’ve been possessed yourself, I doubt you are in any position to judge. Have you ever run an exorcism?”

John gave a conciliatory shrug. “All priests are trained in the methods, the ceremonies—”

“But you yourself have never performed one?”

“I know how if I felt the time—”

“But you never have, have you?”

John flushed. His eyes darted between the Reverend Summers and his little notebook. He gave the man an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Lyle raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve seen the records,” John said. “I don’t have anything to add.”

“Lots of people got hurt that day,” Lyle said. “One even died, didn’t she?”

John said nothing. Lyle leaned in.

“You’re lucky to even still have a parish after that.” Lyle grinned. “I mean, you must be on
very
good terms with the archbishop.”

“We go back a ways, but that—”

Lyle held up a hand, palm out. “No need. I understand perfectly,” he said. “It was during a service though, wasn’t it? I’m just curious… indulge me.”

“It was.”

Lyle waited as John took a breath before continuing.

“I was giving a sermon on some fairly… dark material, I admit. There had been some concern with the deacon about Lynn and her daughter. I was trying to prove that there was nothing for them to be worried about. My plan was to promote some understanding, some forgiveness in the community.”

“Such good intentions,” said Lyle, sweetly. “They pave the way to Hell, you know.” Lyle grinned with off-white nicotine teeth. “Anything else out of the ordinary?”

The priest looked away a moment, wincing inwardly at the memories.

“There was… something,” he said, realizing it sounded crazy even as he said it. “Something in the corner of the church. I only caught a glimpse from the corner of my eye. It was probably nothing.”

“Probably?”

John cleared his throat. “I thought maybe smoke, but when I looked it was gone.”

“Curious,” said Lyle, a small grin spreading on his face. “And what then?”

“They… when I looked back the crowd had panicked. It was out of control.”

“And you say the mother was there in the congregation? Did she do anything… odd before all this happened?”

John narrowed his eyes. He felt as though he was being led to specific conclusions, which he didn’t like. He continued grudgingly.

“Lynn had stood during the service,” he said, no longer meeting the man’s eyes. “She had pointed at the corner. Told people to look at it.”

“Look at it?”

“She said ‘Look at the corner. Don’t you see it? There in the corner.’”

John could still remember the screaming, the way fear drove the crowd as they pushed and shoved. And him, up on the pulpit, helpless as the herd forced their way over and out of the doors, trampling anyone that fell. And he
had
seen
it—something shimmering in the periphery of his vision as the people ran.

“What do you want from me?” he finally asked the man in white.

“I just want you to keep your eyes and your mind open,” Lyle said. “The girl knows you and she might come by for help. I’d appreciate it if you would contact me.”

“I’m not sure how you do things out east, but we don’t practice witch burnings.”

“Who said anything about that?” Lyle said. “In fact, quite the opposite.  Have you ever been to Rhinewall?”

John shook his head.

“Pity, but I guess you wouldn’t. Things have been prickly between city-states since the Crusades, eh?”

The priest shrugged.

“They have a facility there you really should check out. Amazing technology.”

“Is it a psychiatric facility?”

“Of sorts,” Lyle said. “Let’s just say that it might be able to purify the demons that no doubt plague this poor child.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Do you think Skyla might flee there?”

Lyle looked thoughtful. “It’s possible, but let’s say that I am just trying to keep my options open. In the meantime, keep your eyes open if you could.”

“And what if she never returns? What if she isn’t even in the city?”

“Well, that will be bad news for all of us, I’m afraid,” Lyle said.

A pause stretched out like a chasm between the men. Finally, it was John who spoke, curiosity on his face.

“How did you find that house, Reverend Summers? If you asked any person in this city,
anyone at all
, they would tell you that even if they drew a map, you couldn’t see it. I know teenagers who would take dares, trying to walk into the house. They woke up a block away, no memory of it.”

The Reverend Summers thought about his answer for a long time. When he finally looked up at John a shadow passed over his face. His eyes, once blue seemed gray now, distant. He said nothing else.

Something cold and slimy crawled into the back of John’s mind and curled up there. Those cool blue eyes stared through him without blinking. After a moment, it passed and Lyle got up suddenly.

“You’ll excuse me, Father,” he said. “I’m afraid I let the time slip by us.”

Father Thomas got up and escorted the Reverend Inspector out through the chapel. When they reached the front doors, Lyle placed his white hat onto his head with a flourish and shaded his eyes.

“I am staying at the Sanders-
Westmore
Hotel if you happen to think of anything. Don’t hesitate to contact me day or night, and there is a
TickTalker
in the room in case I’m absent.”