Demons are Forever: Confessions of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom Read online

  And even though I was experiencing a certain amount of guilt over the lie I’d told her, I still didn’t come clean with my daughter. I wasn’t ready, and I suppose I was still clinging to the hope that she was simply being your average whiny teenager, desperately seeking an excuse to avoid babysitting her toddler brother.

  “I’m only talking to him about the archives,” I said. “Nothing interesting at all. And Timmy would be bored out of his mind,” I added, giving him another push on the swing in response to his ear-splitting scream for attention.

  “Just archives?”

  “That’s it,” I said. “And I seriously doubt you want to give up cheerleader practice to help me sort through and inventory bug-infested boxes of records. But if you do ...”

  I let the offer hang out there, reasonably sure she would run far and fast. If I was wrong, of course, I’d have to amend my agenda for today’s discussion with Ben. The upside, though, would be that I’d have a helper for my deathly dull committee duty.

  I’d signed on before the summer, and even though the project was supposed to have been finished by autumn, it was still dragging on—the universal nature of volunteer work. You would have thought that after years in the PTA I would have expected it.

  She held on to the chains that supported the swing, then bent backwards, letting out a low, suffering groan as she did. Her long hair brushed the gravel, and I saw her chest rise and fall as she sighed. Honestly, I couldn’t tell if she was frustrated or practicing to join a contortionist group. I also couldn’t tell what she was thinking. As hard as it was for me to admit, I could no longer look at her face and see what was going on in her head. As life skills go, I suppose she’d learned from the best. I am, after all, a master at lying to my family.

  “Allie?”

  She lifted herself back up into a sitting position, then hopped off the swing. “Okay. Fine. I’ll stay here with Timmy.” She held out her hands. “Keys?”

  I hesitated, and she noticed.

  “In case I need to change Timmy,” she said. “I mean, come on. You think I’m going to take the van and go joyriding or something?”

  I didn’t, but I also had never expected her to sneak out of the house after I’d told her in no uncertain terms that she couldn’t go out. But she had. And the consequences had been bad, bad, bad.

  She rolled her eyes, apparently able to read my thoughts. “I got it, Mom. Lesson learned.”

  “Good kid. And since I know it’s a huge pain to watch your brother, why don’t we swing by the mall before we go home?”

  “Are you buying?” she asked, perking up. “Cuz I’ve totally blown my allowance.”

  “I was thinking we’d stay in the parking lot,” I admitted. “You can apply for your learner’s permit soon. If you want to practice a little, I’ll sit quietly in the passenger seat and try not to freak out.”

  “Yeah?” she asked, eyes bright.

  “Why not?”

  “Thanks, Mom,” she said, rewarding me with a rare hug. “And it’s not that much of a pain to watch him,” she admitted, scooting over to swing-pushing position. “As brother’s go, he’s pretty okay.”

  As kids go, both of mine are more than okay, and I felt a nice little tug of mommy pride as I left them in the play yard and headed to find Father Ben. Thankfully, my timing was perfect, and we retreated into his office in the rectory.

  “Anything?” I demanded, as soon as he shut the door.

  “Possibly,” Ben said. “I called Father Corletti last night, and he was able to get back to me this morning.”

  “What did he say?”

  “About seven years ago, cults sprang up throughout Europe and Asia. Cults that worshipped Andramelech. And made sacrifices to him.”

  I winced, remembering what Eddie had said about the Assyrians. “Children?” I asked, barely able to voice the question.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “What happened?”

  “The police in the various regions investigated the deaths and disappearances, as you would expect. And, naturally, the cult activities were secret, so the local authorities didn’t make the connection at first.”

  “But Forza did.”

  “Exactly,” he said, with a slight nod of his head. “I’m still rather overwhelmed by the organization’s resources.”

  “If the resources are that good, then how come we’re hiding bodies in the catacombs?”

  He grinned at me. “Ah, Kate. You’re becoming old and jaded.”

  “Am I? Or are you just new and naive?” Father Ben was relatively new to the whole Forza thing, having been informed of the organization at the same time that he was recruited to be my alimentatore. So far, he’s got a grand total of almost three months under his belt. On the whole, I thought he was adjusting remarkably well. Even if he was a bit naive.

  “I may be new, but I’m the one with the information you need,” he said, holding on to a sheaf of papers.

  I immediately turned contrite. “I take it all back,” I said. “You might be new to the job, but you bring a freshness and exuberance that more than makes up for your lack of on-the-job experience.” We were teasing each other now, but I actually meant every word of that.

  “Such flattery.” He motioned toward one of the guest chairs even as he settled in behind his desk. “The rest of the story is quite interesting, though I have nothing that I’d call concrete.”

  “What do you have?”

  “A name,” he said. “Nadia Aiken.”

  “Should that mean something to me?”

  “Not necessarily. She’s a Hunter, and she was assigned to investigate these cults. To see if in fact the members were doing Andramelech’s bidding.”

  “And?”

  “According to her reports, the demon was indeed active. He was seeking to raise an army comprised of both demons and human followers. She encountered several of his minions—demons in human form—and disposed of them.”

  All of this was news to me, but that made sense. Seven years ago Allie was a precocious second grader, and the only battle on my mind was the one to get my daughter to clean her room and do her homework. A demon running around fomenting cult activity wasn’t tops on my priority list back then. For that matter, demons weren’t even on my list.

  “And then what happened?”

  “Apparently the cult continued to spread, gaining toe-holds in other areas, including the United States. She traveled here, while other Hunters remained behind in Europe.

  She found cults in San Francisco, New Orleans, New York, and Florida.”

  “Dear God,” I said. “Was she able to do anything?”

  “Her last report was quite cryptic. She said that she’d contacted an alimentatore who might be able to offer assistance. She didn’t say who, though, nor did she report this communication to her assigned alimentatore.”

  “So what happened?”

  “We don’t know,” he admitted, closing the file folder.

  I fell back in my seat, frustrated. “That’s it?”

  “No, Kate. That’s not it. We don’t know what she did, but we do know that the cults began to break apart. Some of the members were interviewed by Forza investigators later, and they spoke of feeling a snap, almost as if one minute they were bound by Andramelech, and the next minute they had been freed. Many of the cult members turned to the Church. Some, though, attempted to summon the demon again.”

  “But they weren’t successful.”

  “No,” he confirmed. “They weren’t.”

  “Andramelech’s shackles,” I murmured. “That’s what the demon on the beach said.” I looked up at Father Ben. “So seven years ago, he was free—probably even in human form—and running around gathering followers and doing his demon thing. But someone managed to imprison him, and the spell over his cult members was broken. Is that right?”

  “As far as we know.”

  “So who imprisoned him? Nadia?”

  “We assume so, but there is no way to be c
ertain.”

  “She died?” I felt a twinge of loss for this Hunter I’d never met.

  “We don’t know. According to Father Corletti, she ceased all communications about five years ago. He believes her efforts to entrap Andramelech killed her.”

  “What do you believe?” I asked.

  He smiled thinly and shook his head. “Perhaps it’s because I am so naïve—or perhaps it’s because I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you—but I choose to believe that Ms. Aiken is still alive.”

  “If she’s alive, though, why is she hiding?”

  Father Ben met my eyes. “We’re talking about one of the chancellors of Hell, and she’d made it her mission to bring down the army he was raising. If I had to guess, I’d say that she’s terrified.”

  Three

  “Butterrified of what?” Laura asked, after I relayed the conversation to her. “If this Andre demon is locked up now, what’s Nadia still got to be terrified of?”

  “That’s what I don’t get either,” I admitted, as I teetered on the ladder in front of the house and tried to disentangle the Christmas lights Stuart had so carefully hung a few weeks ago. “And I didn’t have the chance to ask Ben what he meant because Delores came in to talk about the committee stuff with me.” I made a face. “Apparently Allie saw her outside and told her Father and I were talking about the archives, so ...”

  Laura’s laughter trickled up from the foot of my ladder. “You are so busted.”

  “I know,” I admitted. As much as I wanted to believe that Allie was simply trying to be helpful, I couldn’t help but think that sending Delores our way had been her passive-aggressive teenage way of letting me know that she knew I’d pulled one over on her.

  “You need to tell her. It’s one thing to have kept quiet about something in your past. Kids inherently understand that. I mean, I still to this day won’t admit to Mindy that I wore one of those goofy sweatbands in my hair during high school. But lie about something happening now...”

  She trailed off, looking wistfully toward the inside of my house, where our girls were currently sitting on the couch, enthralled by the latest fashion mags to have hit the news-stand. “Trust me,” she said. “For that, it’s much tougher to earn forgiveness.”

  I immediately shifted to best friend mode. “How’s she doing? Any better?”

  Laura’s husband, Paul, had recently dropped the divorce bomb. They’d decided to keep quiet about it until after the holiday, but that plan hadn’t gone over particularly well. In addition to crying and sulking because of the actual divorce, Mindy had been supremely pissed off that they’d “treated her like a baby and played pretend family” over Christmas. Considering Laura and Paul were trying to ensure that Mindy at least had a decent Christmas, their daughter’s reaction had been a bit disappointing, to say the least.

  “She’s speaking to me again,” Laura said. “But not to Paul.” She grinned, wickedly. “About that, though, I’m not terribly upset.”

  “It’ll keep getting better,” I said, because despite the wry comments about Paul, I could still hear the pain in her voice.

  “I know it will. Because we had a good reason for not telling her the truth right away. She might not agree with the reason, but it’s legitimate.”

  “I had a reason for waiting,” I said, latching on to the subtext.

  “Maybe,” she acknowledged. “But you can’t keep putting off telling her the truth.”

  “I know, I know. You’re right.” I unhooked the last of the lights and let them drop down to Laura. “I just don’t want her to get the hunting bug, you know? And that little display with the sword this morning didn’t exactly leave me with a warm fuzzy feeling.”

  “You’re the mom, Kate. If she wants to hunt, you’re going to have to resort to that time-honored tradition of just saying no.”

  “Thanks. You’re a big help.”

  She laughed, holding tight to the ladder as I carefully descended. “Happy to be of service.” She checked her watch. “Although ...”

  “I know. You guys need to run.”

  “Trust me,” she said. “I’d rather stay here. But the refrigerator is empty.”

  I almost asked if she wanted to leave Mindy while she ran to the grocery store, but I already knew the answer. As much as Mindy practically lived at our house, these days Laura was keeping her kid close to her, repairing the frayed threads of their relationship. I needed to be doing the same. Because as much as I didn’t want to believe it, I knew that the secret I was keeping was going to cause more than a few ragged edges between Allie and me, too.

  While I gathered up the lights, Laura gathered up her daughter. By the time I made it back inside, they were heading out the back door, and Allie was fighting with Timmy over the remote control.

  “Want to watch Dora,” he said, then plopped the remote down on the floor and sat on it. Over the last few weeks, he’d had a growth spurt, and not only had his little body grown several inches, but his vocabulary and level of articulation had increased, too. Unfortunately, he mostly used his newfound chattiness for arguing.

  “Timmy...” She stared him down, her expression one I’d seen a hundred times on my own face. Like mother, like daughter. “Give me the remote.”

  “Dora,” he said, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest.

  She made a frustrated little noise that only increased in pitch when she looked up and saw me. “Mother,” she howled in a full-blown whine. “Do something.”

  “Timmy,” I said, in my sternest Mommy voice. “Give me the remote. Nobody’s watching television.”

  “But Mom!” Allie wailed.

  “DORAAAAA!” Timmy screamed.

  I took a deep breath and wondered if it was too late to turn around and go back outside. Surely there were still one or two decorations that needed to be taken down. A bush that needed trimming. A flower bed begging to be weeded. A demon that needed slaying.

  But, alas, there’s never a demon around when you need one.

  “You,” I said, pointing to Allie, “go get his craft box. And you,” I added, pointing to Timmy, “I’ve got a nice surprise waiting for you in the kitchen.”

  That wasn’t entirely true, but it piqued his interest. And in less than ten minutes, Allie and I had him settled at the kitchen table, a pile of leftover wrapping paper, a glue stick, and a collection of construction paper fragments scattered in front of him.

  “Make a star, Mommy,” he demanded.

  “Go for it,” Allie said. “I’m going to go claim the remote.”

  “No TV,” I said as she headed into the living room. She stopped, gave me the look, and waited for me to explain this travesty. “We need to finish taking down the tree,” I said. “Go get the boxes out of the attic and meet me in the living room.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “You’re leaving him alone with a glue stick? Wow. And I thought you were brave in that museum.”

  “Very funny,” I said, trying hard not to show how absolutely thrilled I was that she could joke about it. I pointed a finger. “Now go.”

  She went, and for the next five or so minutes, I drew a star on construction paper, used Timmy’s safety scissors to carefully cut it out, then helped my budding artistic genius glue little bits of tissue paper all over it.

  “Fabulous!” I said, holding it up.

  “No, Mommy. Not done yet.” He snatched it out of my hand, and proceeded to pile on more tissue paper. “Glitter? Please, glitter? Red and blue and silver and green and—”

  “Whoa, whoa,” I said, laughing. The glitter would make a huge mess in the kitchen, but good manners were worth a lot, so I caved. Besides, I’d be vacuuming up pine needles in an hour. How much more trouble could a little glitter be?

  By the time Allie came down from the attic with all the ornament boxes, I realized my mistake. The floor beneath the table was covered in a thin layer of glitter, as if a colorful snow had fallen. There was glitter in every crack and crevice, glitter clinging to t
he table and chair feet, and glitter hiding under the baker’s rack tucked in the corner near the picture window. I had faith in my vacuum cleaner, but this was above and beyond.

  Even Eddie noticed the mess, his bushy eyebrows rising in silent amusement as he padded through the room, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. Or, more likely, the old man who’d just had a hot date.

  “You getting any sparkles on that star, boy? Or are you just decorating the floor?”

  A wide grin split Timmy’s face, and he scrambled out of his chair and sat in the middle of the floor, a glue stick in hand. Then he rubbed the stick on his palm and pressed it down hard. When he held it up, his palm was silver, gold, and green. And my little boy just laughed and laughed.

  I looked at Eddie. “You are so going to pay for suggesting that.”

  He waved the threat away. “So the boy gets his hands messy. It could be worse.”

  That was true enough, and I had a sudden image of glitter in the furniture, Timmy’s hair, the air-conditioning ducts ...

  “Fair enough,” I said. Then I smiled sweetly. “But since I’m going to have to wash glue off the floor, you do owe me a little bit, don’t you think?”

  “Depends. What do you want?”

  “Watch him while Allie and I finish taking down the tree.”

  He cupped his chin with his palm, in full bargaining mode. “What do I get out of it?”

  “You don’t have to help with the tree. And you get my love and devotion.” He snorted. “Plus,” I added, “you can have one of the apple fritters I bought on our way home from Mass.”

  “Now you’re talking.” He nodded at Timmy. “Okay, kid. Let’s see what kind of mess we can make.”

  “Mess!” Timmy repeated, then tossed a handful of glitter into the air.

  I left the room, figuring that was a better option than having a nervous breakdown right then and there.

  While Eddie and Timmy Wreaked havoc in my kitchen, Allie and I undressed the tree and carefully packed away all the ornaments, tinsel, and little holiday knickknacks we’ve collected over the years. We gathered up the boxes and rubber tubs and headed upstairs to the attic. As for the now-naked tree, I’d get Stuart to drag it to the curb later. After that, I’d vacuum the living room and kitchen. Both, I knew, would sorely need it.