The Good Demon Page 21

  The rain fell in windborne slashes, fierce and wild. It was hard to see, hard to keep the car from skidding off into a ditch. Thunder boomed above me and the sky lit up in greens and purples as whips of lightning flung down from the clouds. It was like a warning, the sky conspiring to tell me that what I was doing was final, that there would be no going back to my old life, that nothing would ever be the same again.

  I pulled over at Little John’s gas station, I figured for the last time. Rain slammed against the overhang, whipping horizontal against my face, and I heard tornado sirens moaning in the distance.

  I used the pay phone to call Roy’s number. He answered after half a ring.

  “Clarabella?” he said. “Oh, thank God. I’ve been trying to call you like a million times.”

  I think that broke my heart a little bit.

  “Look, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. It’s just, my dad can get real scary when he’s preaching at you and you start feeling like the whole world is falling in on you, like God has a sword raised up and is about to strike you dead. I never should have called you that.”

  “Called me what?”

  “You know.”

  “A slut. That’s what you called me.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  “But you still believe it, don’t you?”

  For one solid breath he was quiet on the phone. It was long enough.

  Just do it, Clare, I told myself. Say it already.

  “I called to tell you goodbye, Roy.”

  “What? Where are you going?”

  “You know already,” I said. “Thanks for the last month or so. I never thought I could be happy like that again.”

  I hung up the phone. I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t cry about it.

  The storm was raging by the time I got to the Bird Tree. I stepped out of Miss Mathis’s car into the pelting hot rain. It was there, the cardinal crucified and bloody, nailed to the tree. I wondered if it was the same bird, doomed for some reason, eternally punished like Prometheus to be tortured and never die. I didn’t know if it was better to lose one bird for always or a single bird each night. Who could make a decision like that? Who would ever want to?

  The path was a mess, puddles and fallen limbs, trees ripped in half by the storm. But the moment I stepped into the woods it was like the wind didn’t touch me, like the rain parted and the tree branches spread themselves wide and let me pass. All around me the storm roared and yet it did not lay the softest finger on my body.

  The forest is making room for me, I thought. It’s been waiting for me all this time.

  The woods held a curious light. I was being watched, the invisible creatures hunched on tree limbs, cowering from the storm. Their eyes glowed behind each leaf, gazing down from the clouds and stars. It was like reality stretched so thin I could tear it with my fingers, like I could pull a thread and it would unravel, just like a sweater. Even the animals bowed their heads as I passed—raccoons covered their eyes, opossums hung in exclamation marks from the trees. The woods were watching. The woods wondered what I was going to do next.

  Something else was with me, a whisper through the leaves, a patch of moonlight where there was no moon. The black-haired girl, the one who helped me through the forest last time, she was there too, walking a little ways behind me. I could feel her eyeless stare, grim and worried. I was starting to get an idea of who she might be.

  Soon the Wish House loomed before me. Its doorway hung open and black as a well. Constant lightning cast a glow over the grounds. I knew She was here somewhere, waiting on me, watching. I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

  I passed through the Wish House, trailing puddles in my wake, my dress stuck to my body, my hair matted and cold. I thought about Miss Mathis’s words: A field lies fallow for a reason. Who knew what old dead bones poisoned the earth beneath this house? It felt as if the House was alive, as if it knew I stood there inside it.

  Gaspar was waiting for me in the black curtain room, same as before. Seated in the chair, his face to the fire. This time the room smelled awful, like an army of rats had died in the walls. Flies buzzed fat and hungry around the room. I felt like I was standing in a slaughterhouse. I wanted to huddle and warm myself by the fire but I was afraid to.

  Gaspar rose from the rocking chair and turned to face me. He wore a tuxedo with a black bow tie, as if he had dressed up for the occasion. His hair was slicked back, and he was clean-shaven now, his face gaunt and scarred but handsome somehow. He didn’t seem so old and tired anymore. It was like he’d reverse-aged, like each minute he was growing younger. His face was flushed, his hair a fuller grey, his lips red and moist when he smiled.

  “I told you I was beautiful once, didn’t I? Yes, but the girl did not believe Gaspar. And why should she? When last she laid eyes on Gaspar he was old bones in a suit, was he not? Was he not?”

  And he bent over laughing.

  “I called Roy,” I said. “He’s coming.”

  “Well I should hope so, little one, for your sake. Lest you be forced to take the boy’s place. Lonely little girls work just as well as lonely little boys, didn’t you know that? You wouldn’t like that, now, would you? Being the human temple for a thousand hungry demons?”

  The look on my face made Gaspar laugh.

  “I thought not. No, no, the girl wants just her one. Her always and Only, does she not?” He leaned in close to me and clicked his teeth in my face. “Don’t you know that when you walk through these doors, you belong to me? And I take something from you, and I never give it back again. I take and I take again, until one day you’re mine. Perhaps you saw some of them outside, in the woods? Perhaps they are even here now, stitched into the curtains, peering out from the wallpaper? Can’t you feel them watching?”

  “What about Luther Simpkins?” I said.

  “His body escaped, but his mind did not. I offered that man the earth, and for a time he took his pleasure.” Gaspar waved his hand dismissively. “Bah. He is corrupted now. May he remain so.”

  “What’s that smell?” I said.

  Gaspar giggled and twirled about the room, waltzing an invisible partner through the stink and flies.

  “All the pretty flowers will grow once more in the Wish House, won’t they, little girl? Yes, they will. They will grow and prosper, and so shall we all, and Gaspar will be beautiful again. The men and the women will come from miles around, from worlds apart, just to see me.”

  He stopped and clapped his hands.

  “Oh, and we shall have the loveliest parties!”

  “Is that what all this is about?” I said. “Your parties?”

  He bared his teeth at me and growled.

  “No, you stupid little girl. You disgusting, filthy creature.” He straightened himself and stood on his tiptoes. “Power is its own reward. Or have you not learned that yet? Have you not held power yourself, felt it throb and pulse in your own little veins? Yes, I think you have. Yes, I believe you miss that.”

  “No,” I said. “I miss Her. Not the power. Just Her.”

  “Then you are a bigger fool than I thought.” He giggled. “A fool, yes, but a useful one. A most disgusting, lovely little fool, yes she is. The girl who shall bring Gaspar his new toy. The spirits will love him, yes, I’ve been assured. My helper does not lie, no it doesn’t. They shall make a home in the boy’s chest and I will sign the boy like a contract, yes I will. Oh, they shall all be reunited in him!

  “Can you imagine the glory, the honor, to be the dwelling place of such spirits? Of such creatures beyond time, of wisdom from the creation of the world, when all was waters and darkness. They were born soon after the first stars, and they shone bright for a time, with their own light. And yet, the light was not for them. It despised them, it spat them out, wingless and alone, to wander the earth. But there is wisdom in the earth, yes there is, there is dominion and power, there are rivers of blood on which they may feast like dogs.”
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  Gaspar turned a pirouette, he leapt nimble as a ballet dancer, he twirled himself like a dervish before the fire. When he stopped to face me he had two silk scarves in his hands, like a magician.

  “Sit down,” he said, “and I shall bind you.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “The girl asks such silly questions, yes she does. The boy must come voluntarily, must he not? And he must come to save you, the sweet little girl needing saving, or else why should he come? He comes because he loves you, yes? Yes, you are a disgusting little creature, my lovely. Oh, you will be perfect for us!”

  The One Wish Man led me by the wrist over to the chair and set me down in it. Then he tied me up, binding my wrists and ankles with the long silk scarves. He did it gently, taking care with me. It scared me, how delicate he was, like my skin was made of wrapping paper, like it would tear so easily. It would have been better if he was rough. The stink of the room made me gag in my mouth and flies swarmed my face.

  “I have a question,” I said.

  “The little darling shall ask away, will she not?”

  “Did you kill Cléa?”

  Gaspar lowered his face to mine, his eyes gleaming deep and black in the firelight.

  “Of course I killed the little bitch,” he snarled. “She tried to burn my house down.”

  Gaspar danced laughing to the corner of the room and drew back a bit of curtain and vanished behind it.

  I sat there in the chair, bound and helpless, while the One Wish Man watched me unseen, and—it makes me feel so guilty, so horrible to say this—I prayed Roy was on his way.

  I waited what seemed like hours. My legs itched, my head hurt, the smell of the room made me sick. It was hard being tied up for so long, such a helpless feeling, like Gaspar could just walk into the room and slit my throat and there wouldn’t be a thing I could do about it.

  Maybe Roy wouldn’t come. Maybe I’d been wrong about everything, and I’d just wind up Gaspar’s plaything for the rest of my life. I’d deserve it, I guess. Trapped here forever. Flies flurried around the room. One landed on the tip of my nose. I shook it off and it came right back. More gathered on my eyelids, buzzed into my ears, crawled through my hair, until I couldn’t stand it anymore, until I thought I might scream for Gaspar to come back and kill me himself.

  And then a voice behind me whispered, “Clarabella!”

  My heart about cracked in half when I heard that. I had to bite my lip to keep from crying. It was Roy.

  “Is it safe?” he said.

  “Yes,” I said. “The One Wish Man’s gone right now, but he’ll be back any minute. We got to hurry.”

  Roy ran up to the chair and untied me, my hands first and then my ankles. He batted the flies from his face.

  “What’s that smell?” he said.

  I shook my head.

  “I don’t know, I don’t know. Roy, he wasn’t like I thought he would be. He wasn’t anything like She said he would be.”

  “Figures,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  “Are you alone?”

  “My dad was right behind me, but he got lost on the path somewhere.”

  Of course he did. The Wish House didn’t want him. The woods wouldn’t let him pass.

  I was untied now, free to run if I wanted to. Roy headed for the curtain, but I didn’t move.

  “What are you doing?” he said. “Come on.”

  I tried to smile at him but I knew it just came out sad.

  “I knew you’d come,” I said. “It’s just like you, thinking you know what’s best for me. Thinking that I always need saving.”

  “We have to hurry, Clarabella. Dad will be outside, waiting on us. He’ll get us out of here.”

  I had to tell him the truth. Otherwise I wouldn’t have enough strength to go through with it. I had to get angry, I had to light the mad flames of myself. I fixed my face in a scowl.

  “She was mine,” I said. “She stood by me through everything. And you took Her from me. You and your horrible father. You had no right. No right to do that.”

  Roy backed away from me, confusion all over his face.

  “I came to save you,” he stammered. “And . . . and . . . he had you tied up.”

  But I wasn’t looking at Roy anymore. I was looking at the man walking out from the curtains behind him.

  Gaspar stood at his full height now, taller than anyone I had ever seen, like some wicked scarecrow stretched long in my dreams. Roy backed right into him.

  “You must be Roy,” said Gaspar.

  Roy tried to run but Gaspar slung his arms around him and lifted him off the ground. He draped a white silk scarf over Roy’s face and Roy went limp, like the scarf was drugged. Gaspar dropped him to the floor. I flinched when Roy’s face smacked the hardwood.

  “Don’t worry, little darling, I didn’t kill him,” said Gaspar. “No, never would Gaspar do a thing like that. What good would the boy be to us dead? The spirits don’t envy the dead, not at all. They want the living.”

  “She isn’t like that,” I said. “She’s different from all your demons.”

  “That may be, little one,” he said, “though I deeply doubt it. Now, go and wait in your corner. Gaspar shall summon you when he is ready.”

  Gaspar laid Roy down on the hardwood. He bound Roy’s arms and legs with a scarf.

  I sat down in the corner and hugged my knees to myself as Gaspar spun his magic.

  Gaspar traced a circle three times around Roy with a stick of chalk. He filled the spaces around Roy with symbols and runes, the long scripts of magic like what Kevin drew in his notebook. It was amazing to watch him work, the surety of the strokes, the squint-eyed focus of a master. There was the eye and the triangle and the spiral, the stars and hooks and scepters, the lines of unpronounceable words, the strange scribbled language of the alchemists. Other figures too, things I had seen in my dreams, and elsewhere, words woven into the clouds of the Hidden Place, whispered by the wind and waters, scratched into the bark of the trees. This was an older language, one humans didn’t dare to speak.

  Gaspar lit a candle at five points along the circle, long white slashes connecting them into a star. He hummed while he worked, a soft strange melody, something ancient and eternal, the first song ever sung. I was in the presence of an older evil, one that has been from the beginning and would go on long after I was dead. All around Roy there danced a living cosmos of chalk, a summoning song etched on the floor.

  I knew Gaspar would write all these symbols again, once more. Except he would do it with a knife, he would carve them right into Roy’s flesh.

  “The little wretch is learning,” said Gaspar, smiling at me. I knew he could hear me thinking. I knew he understood my heart, and it shamed me.

  I would have to keep my thoughts quieter in the moments to come.

  Roy shuddered and coughed, he blinked his eyes open.

  “The grub arises!” said Gaspar. He slapped Roy on the cheeks. “Wake now, you stinking, naughty little boy, and take heed, for now Gaspar needs you. Wake and bear witness!”

  The One Wish Man walked to the corner of the room and drew back the curtains. Finally I knew what caused that awful smell.

  Behind the curtains hung the slaughtered carcasses of animals. They dangled from rope and barbed wire: cats half-skinned, strangled dogs with their tongues hanging out. An eyeless owl noosed with a chain. Cardinals and cardinals nailed like a smattering of blood drops all over the walls. Behind them, a stabbing, jotted language scrawled wild across the walls in red, gashes and spirals and eyes, eyes all around us. A wolf’s head nailed over a boarded window, deer antlers poking out like thorns all over the wall, like Christ’s crown unraveled. I saw animal bones in the corners, a single plucked cat eye, the smashed skull of a horse. The fire had died low now, just the hiss of embers. The sky was black beyond the windows, as if there was no outside, as if this room was the only place left in the world.

  “Clarabella,” whispered Roy. “Clarabella,
help me.”

  I couldn’t even look at him.

  Gaspar placed an unlit purple candle on the floor. Next to it he laid a curved knife.

  “Come, my darling,” he said. “You sickening little creature.”

  I sat down across from him, the candle and knife between us. Gaspar took my hands and held them palms-up. He stared deep into my eyes—his the molten color of gold—and I could not look away.

  “You have lost someone dear to you and you wish for her return, yes?” he said.

  I nodded.

  “Say it, little girl. You must speak the words aloud or it is useless, yes?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I want Her back.”

  “Please, don’t do this,” said Roy, his voice barely a croak.

  “You are not to speak, you mongrel,” said Gaspar. “You are merely to bear witness. We understand this, yes?”

  “Clare, you don’t need Her,” said Roy. “You can stop this.”

  “I said, be silent!” roared Gaspar.

  The firelight dimmed, and a wind rippled through the room. Roy cried out in pain, he writhed like a flipped beetle on the floor.

  “The little boy shall learn, will he not? When he is the host for our friends, yes? When the legion makes its home in him, when he is my treasure chest of gold coins, my very own purse? Yes, the spirit chose wisely.”

  I watched as Roy went still and bowed his head. I realized that he was praying.

  Gaspar turned to me.

  “Now we shall continue, won’t we, darling?”

  I nodded at him.

  “You seek a lost spirit, do you not? One who was bound to you, who beat inside your heart, to whom you gave meaning, to whom you gave life. Is this not true? Yes, yes. Now the spirit is lost, do you see? She wanders through the dry places, seeking rest but finding none. She has been rebuked from the child, yes, forbidden to return. The little boy shall recognize these words, yes, I believe he shall, but he cannot speak, for Gaspar forbids him. He knows the fate of the wandering spirit. The spirit can find no rest, can She not? Is She not so very lonesome? Does She not straggle through the empty space, through the starving places, looking only for Her one true love? Yes, of course She does. And shall I call Her back for you, little girl? Is it Her you truly want?”