The Devil You Know (27 page)

“Just
worried.”

“About
me?”

He
nodded. “This whole thing…”

“A
little crazy?”

“A
lot crazy.”

“You’re
not getting cold feet, are you?”

He
smiled and shook his head. “Not me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Then
I’ll be fine.” His smile warmed her, and when he pulled her hand closer and
kissed it lightly, she felt herself blush. “I promise.”

He
shrugged. “Promises…We can’t always make good on them, you know. Can’t count on
things to work out the way we want.”

“I
know.” She thought of Ryan and Jasper and knew that Tom could name dozens of
times when things had gone wrong during the war. “But I can count on you,” she
said.

 
“Absolutely.”

“Then,”
she said, now pulling his hand toward her and returning the kiss, “we count on
each other. That’s a promise we can keep. Right?”

He
smiled, and the worry he had expressed earlier seemed to have eased. “Right,”
he answered.

Marie
drained her glass. “In that case,” she said, “We should dance some more.”

Tom’s
answer was to empty his own glass and push his chair back. With an exaggerated
wave toward the dance floor, he affected the air of an overly gallant
gentleman. “My lady,” he said as he stood and guided her onto the floor.

* * * * * * * *

When
they left the club, it was almost eleven, and Marie’s feet hurt from dancing.
She was also tipsy for the first time in several years, and she was glad that
Tom drove the car. On the way home, she scooted all the way over on the bench
seat and wrapped her arm around his, holding it loosely so he could drive, and
resting her head on his shoulder. A fog had rolled in while they had been at
the Ambassador, and the lights of oncoming cars twinkled like stars as they
headed back towards Hollywood. When “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree” came on
the radio, Marie reached out and clicked it off.

“Would
you rather we go to my house?” she asked impulsively while the car idled at a
red light.

“How
would I get home then?” he asked.

“You
wouldn’t have to.” She said it without raising her head from his shoulder, but
she moved her eyes to see his reaction. He turned his head to the side to look
down at her, and she was glad to see him smiling.

“I
think that’s the wine talking, Marie.”

“The
wine was fine,” she said with a sigh. “I think I may have some more in a
cupboard.”

“Pushy
little thing, aren’t you?”

The
light turned green, and Tom put the car in gear.

“You’ll
need to come to my house anyway tomorrow before we start…you know.”

“Our
hunt?”

“Let’s
not talk about it tonight. We’ve talked enough about it.”

“Fair
enough,” Tom said. Then, after a few seconds, he said, “So it’s off of
Melrose?”

She
let out an uncharacteristically high-pitched giggle and squeezed his arm even
tighter.

When
they arrived at her house, she got out of the car and led the way through the
little gate in the waist-high chain link fence that bordered her front yard.
The fog was heavy here, and she could feel the mist on her face. Most of the
other houses on the street had all of their lights off, and Marie’s was dark as
well. By the time Tom had come around the front of her car, she had found her
keys by touch in her purse. Holding them with one hand and, encircling Tom’s
arm with the other, she led him up the two concrete steps and across her front
porch.

Tom
held the screen while she unlocked the door. A dim shaft of light entered her
front room from a hallway, and Tom said, “Did you leave that on?” There was an
edge to his voice, and Marie realized he was worried someone might have broken
in.

“I
always leave a little bedside lamp on when I know I’m going to be late,” she
said reassuringly. “It’s for Murphy.”

“Your
cat?”

“Mm-hmm.”
She flipped on the lights in the front room and immediately noticed the picture
of Ryan on the bookshelf by the window. For a moment, she thought of turning it
face down, but then decided to leave it be.

If
Tom noticed it, he said nothing. “Can’t those things see in the dark?” he said
instead.

“Well,
yes, but,” Marie said, a bit embarrassed, “Murphy’s special. Aren’t you Murphy?”
She called out, but the cat did not come, so she led the way into her kitchen
where an empty dish lay on the floor beside the stove. “He’s one hundred
percent cat,” she said as she opened a cupboard and took out a box of cat food.
She shook it before pouring some onto the plate, and in seconds the big orange
tomcat came bounding out of the dark hallway that led to the little house’s
bathroom and single bedroom. Marie bent down and petted the cat firmly as he
ate, drawing her hand from his head all the way to the tip of his tail. “He
always forgives me for being gone,” she added, looking up to see Tom’s amused
expression. “But he gives me the cold shoulder if I leave him in the dark. Big
baby.”

She
brushed cat hair from her fingers and stood up. It was difficult to squat and
then stand in the tight dress, and she wobbled a bit on her heels before Tom
reached out to steady her.

“You
all right?”

“I’m
fine,” she said with a smile. Then she turned back towards the cupboards. “You
want me to find that wine?”

“Sure.
If you like.”

Before
long, they were on the sofa in the front room, two glasses and half a bottle of
white wine on the little coffee table before them. Tom still had said nothing
about Ryan’s photo, even though Marie was sure he had seen it. She appreciated
his silence. They talked over a glass of wine about her house and her cat and
her books. When Tom drained the last of his wine and set the empty glass on the
table, Marie leaned forward and kissed him. She could taste the wine on his
breath, and it warmed her. His hand came up to her cheek, and he held it there,
his touch making her tingle. Emboldened by the wine, she found herself wanting
him desperately. He had turned toward her when she started kissing him, and now
she pushed him back all the way onto the couch, her hand on his chest. Without
letting her lips leave his, she climbed on top of him and wrapped her arms
around him. She paid no mind to the dress as it hiked up around her legs. She
pressed her body tightly against him, her heart racing; she wanted him badly
and knew he felt the same, but after another few minutes he pulled his mouth
away from hers and whispered, “Are you sure?”

She
almost blurted out, “Yes!” but then saw the real concern in his eyes. “Aren’t
you?” she asked.

He
had not taken his hands from her hips, and she was ready to lean in and kiss
him again, taking his silence as all the reply she needed. But then he smiled a
bit sheepishly and said, “It’s just…I think this may be a bit of the wine
working on you. I wouldn’t want for you to…”

“Regret
it?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“It’s
not the wine,” she said. Then she smiled at him. “Or maybe a little.” Running a
hand through his hair, she added, “I just need to…feel you tonight.”

“Because
tomorrow?”

She
nodded. “I’m scared.”

“Then
you don’t have to do it.”

“No
one else is going to.”

“We’ll
find another way.”

“There
is no other way.” Her voice broke, and she felt tears of frustration welling
up. “Don’t you see? There is no other way. Your grandfather and I went over it
and over it. This is the only way to stop them.”

He
nodded his understanding. “You’re right. But maybe…maybe you need someone to
watch out for you right now. And doing this may not be the best way for me to
do that.”

Marie
wiped tears from her eyes. “I know,” she said quietly. “I just don’t want to be
alone. Not tonight.” Then she laughed lightly and added, “Murphy’s not such
good company sometimes.”

He
smiled back at her. “Maybe I could stay the night on the couch?”

“Would
you?”

“Sure.
No one’s waiting up for me after all.”

She
climbed off him, feeling a bit embarrassed as she pulled the hem of the dress
down. “Okay, so where did you park your white horse?”

“Just
over the hill. He’s waiting with the cavalry.”

“That
might be what we’ll need tomorrow,” she said.

She
let him hold her there on the couch for a long time, her head resting on his
chest. Eventually, the wine that had helped weaken her inhibitions began to
make her sleepy, and soon she left him and found the spare blankets and pillows
in her hallway closet. She still trembled, but not from fear.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Marie
awoke feeling embarrassed about what had gone on between them on the couch the
night before. Peeking out her curtains, she saw that the fog from the night
before had given way to overcast skies, befitting her mood. She dressed in her
regular clothes, as though she were going to work, and left her bedroom to
check on Tom. He was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a
piece of toast; he had found an issue of
Weird
Tales
and was reading it with Murphy on his lap.

Marie
laughed. “That’s quite a picture.” She was grateful to have something to laugh
at this morning.

She
made herself some breakfast, and they ate together. Then they got ready, and
she drove him back to his house to gather the things they would need for later.

“You’re
sure about this,” he said as they got out of the car.

“As
sure as I can be,” she replied, knowing it was not the answer he had wanted to
hear.

They
held hands as they walked to the front door. “You’re sure there’s not another
way?” Tom asked once they were inside the house. “You can’t just do the
exorcisms when you find them?”

“You
mean right there in a restaurant or at the counter in Schwab’s? Tom, what if it
doesn’t work like that? We’re just going off Jasper’s best guess. We don’t know
how strong these things have gotten. If I start praying over it in the street
and it just runs away, then we’ve tipped our hand. They have to be subdued and
then done away with. If not by one method, then another.”

He
looked at the floor and then ran his hands through his hair. “I know,” he
finally said with a nod, and then repeated, “I know. I just don’t want anything
to happen to you.”

“I
don’t want anything to happen to me either. That’s why we’ll take precautions.”

“Okay,”
he said with resignation. “I’ll be right back.” He left her there for a few
minutes, and she could hear him rummaging around in a back room. When he
returned, he held a baseball bat, a small leather case, and a bottle of pills.
He gave her the bottle, saying, “There’s enough Nembutal there to kill a
horse.”

“All
right,” she said. The dress she wore had pockets at the hips, and she went to
slip the bottle into one of them, but he stayed her hand.

“What
if we make a mistake, Marie?”

“We
won’t. How many people could look that much like Errol Flynn or Clark Gable?”

“In
a town full of stunt doubles and stand-ins? Plenty.”

She
smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure before we do anything. They have a
certain…irresistible charm. I’ll know it when I feel it.” He let go of her
hand, and she put the pills away. Then she nodded toward the case. “What’s in
there?”

It
was a small, black leather case the size of a shaving kit. He unzipped it and
pulled out a black gun.

“Tom!”
she said. “You didn’t say anything about this.”

“I’m
sorry. I knew you wouldn’t like it.” He zipped the case closed again. “I want
to make sure you’re safe.”

“Where
did you get it?”

“During
the war,” he said. “It’s a German Luger. I guess you could say I liberated it.”

Marie
nodded. “Did you…?”

He
did not answer right away, but then began speaking. “There was this little
village in France. We thought the Nazis had all cleared out, but this one
somehow got left behind. He was holed up in this abandoned house, and he blew a
hole in my buddy’s throat when we were just walking down the street. Could’ve
been me just as easily, you know?”

Wide-eyed,
she said, “What did you do?”

“Took
cover and tried to stop the bleeding, but it was no good. When the German fired
again, I tossed a grenade. Blew the wall in, and I went in after. SOB was in
the rubble with the gun still in his hand. I just picked it up without thinking
about it. I was halfway back to headquarters before I realized I forgot to
check if he was actually dead.”

“Do
you think he was?”

He
shrugged and shook his head, looking at the floor instead of at Marie.
“Probably. Sometimes he’s in my nightmares. And he’s definitely not dead then.”

Marie
touched his hand gently. “I’m sorry I asked,” she said. Then she pointed to the
leather pouch. “I don’t think we’re going to need it.”

Tom
was quiet for a moment before saying, “Colin Krebs told you an angry husband
shot one of them, didn’t he? Well, if nothing else works, this will. They’re
not
that
strong.”

“But the demon just went back to Piedmont.”

“Which
is what’ll happen with us, too, if the exorcism doesn’t work,” Tom said.

Marie
knew he was right. There was nothing to do but try.

* * * * * * * *

By
noon, most of the heavy marine layer had burned off, and by the time Marie
found a place to park and walked to the courtyard of Grauman’s Chinese, the
blue sky and bright sunshine made her feel as though she had chosen the right
day to start killing demons. When she had gotten back to her house with Tom
earlier, she had excused herself, shutting her bedroom door and laying out all
the new clothes she had bought the day before. The underwear had come first,
then the little wooden cross. Regardless of what else she chose, the cross had
to remain, and anything that couldn’t conceal it would not be chosen. The
little cross had shown its worth at Laura Tremaine’s, and Marie was not about
to be without it. It did feel a bit strange, though, to slip it on next to the
lacy bra and then to complete the outfit, but there was nothing else to do. St.
Lucy, her eyes gouged out by Roman soldiers, would have to understand, Marie
thought.

Putting
on make-up and perfume, she thought of Elise and how much she would have loved
helping her get ready; this made her even more determined to make the demons
suffer. Her mother would have said she was tarting herself up, but Marie knew
she wasn’t going too far with the make-up. Her goal was to look sexy and
desirable but just a bit naïve as well. It was not unlike the way she had done
herself up before meeting Ryan; putting on the new face felt like slipping into
a version of herself she had once felt very comfortable with. She had known in
her teens that she could make heads turn, and she was going to do it again
today.

By
the time she was ready to leave the bedroom, she was wearing high black heels,
silk stockings, a blue skirt that hugged her hips and knees, and a white
sweater that was just tight enough. She also wore a smart little blue hat that
matched the skirt. She felt both strange and excited to have Tom see her like
this; the new clothes made her feel somehow like a different person. When he
saw her come into the front room, he could only stare, and she could not help
smiling at him and raising an eyebrow.

“You
like?” she asked.

“Jesus
Christ,” he said, shaking his head in appreciation.

“Down,
boy. You’ll get your chance.” She stepped up to him and had to force herself to
give him only a quick kiss so she wouldn’t have to reapply her lipstick.
“You’ll be here, right?”

“Of
course,” he said. “You can count on me.”

“I
know.”

He
put a hand on her wrist. “Marie,” he said, hesitation in his voice. “You’re
sure about this? All of it?”

She
nodded. “I’m sure. Jasper got me ready. I know what to do now—as long as
I’ve got you behind me.”

“Not
going anywhere.” She could tell that he was not completely pleased with the
plan they had laid out, but he was also not protesting it.

With
a grim smile, she kissed him again and then left in her car, driving to a
different church to pray. She had not wanted to go to St. Lucy’s; even if
Father Joe was still on his leave of absence, she did not want to run the risk
of seeing anyone else who knew her. So she had gone to the Church of the Good
Shepherd, where she had gone to Mass years before. It had felt good to be back
at Good Shepherd, and she kneeled in the pews for a long time, asking God for
strength. She even prayed to Ryan, asking him to watch over her and to forgive
her for the feelings she had for Tom now. By the time she left, the sky was
clearing, and she drove the short distance to Hollywood Boulevard and the
Chinese Theater.

Now
she had a part to play. She had to put Tom and Ryan and even God out of her
mind; instead, she had to make everyone who saw her believe that she was a
young, naïve woman awestruck by the footprints and handprints in the cement, by
the billboards and the big cars that rolled by on the street before her. She
had decided this morning that it would help her if she used a different name,
so for now she told herself that she was Betty, that she had just arrived in
Hollywood, and that she was hoping more than anything for a chance to be in a
movie.

Certain
that the story would work if she was lucky enough to encounter one of the
demons, she worried more than anything about the possibility of catching sight
of the one that looked like Cary Grant. Laura Tremaine’s dingy apartment had been
barely lit the night Marie had struggled with the incubus there, and she
counted on it failing to recognize her. If it did, though, she would have a
problem on her hands and had yet to decide how she would proceed. For now, she
told herself that the Grant incubus would just have to be off limits if it
turned out to be the first one she ran into. She needed to see if her plan
would work at all before taking on the challenge of facing the one monster that
might know her intentions.

Opening
her purse, she took out a stick of gum and began to chew it loudly, forcing a
smile as she walked around the courtyard and gawked at the names written in the
cement. The longer she stayed, the more uncomfortable she began to feel. None
of the men who entered the courtyard looked like the ones she was watching for,
but many of them stared at her chest or gave her come-hither looks that she
rebuffed with cold stares. She was thankful that none of them had the nerve to
approach her.

After
an hour, she decided to walk up the street to get some lunch. The crowds on the
sidewalk were thick, and she was jostled by the steady blend of tourists, and
others who lived and worked in Hollywood. There were so many people here, so
many coming and going with more arriving all the time, that she began telling
herself what a fool she had been to think that she could find one of the
incubi, that she would be in the right place at the right time, that one of
them would see her in her black heels and blue skirt and single her out for
seduction. She looked at every man’s face as she walked down the street and
grew more and more despondent.

And
then she saw him. Having just passed the immense old Hollywood Hotel, she
crossed the street, and a man who looked amazingly like Tyrone Power was
crossing in the other direction. He was tall and dark-haired, and his soulful
blue eyes looked into hers for just a moment as she passed him. She remembered
having seen the same man at Julian’s party, and excitement bubbled up in her
with the realization that she actually had one of the incubi in her sights.

Turning
quickly, she darted back across the crosswalk. She reached the other side of
the street just after the light turned red and a truck began rolling into the
intersection, the driver taking no notice of her as she stepped out of his
path. Ahead of her, she could see the Tyrone Power look-alike from the back.
Even if she had not been sure of which man it was, the reactions of women
around him would have told her whom she should follow. Several women turned to
watch him go, some of them stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and staring.
If she wanted to get his attention, she told herself, she had better move
quickly.

Marie
was relieved to see her target leave the sidewalk a few minutes later and walk
into the courtyard of the Chinese Theater. At least in this respect Colin Krebs
had been truthful with her, she told herself. Glad that she would now be able
to catch up with the look-alike without making herself short of breath—and
that there wouldn’t be such a stream of attractive young women walking past him—Marie
slowed down a moment and then stopped as she came in sight of the first set of
footprints in the cement. Taking a deep breath, she made herself picture Elise
and Laura, as well as the predatory looks she had seen from the incubi she had
already encountered. Then she quickly straightened her clothes and turned the
corner to enter the courtyard where she had waited for the last hour.

The
man who looked like Tyrone Power walked around looking at footprints in the
cement. But unlike other tourists, the ground did not hold his gaze. Marie saw
as she approached him that he looked down only briefly, the people around him
getting more of his attention. He looked only at the women, his expression a
blend of appreciation, interest and hunger; it was a look that exuded
confidence—not only in the fact that he could have any woman he saw, but
confidence in every other way as well. Here was a man who would take care of
you, Marie thought, a man who could get you that screen test or interview even
if he wasn’t really Tyrone Power. He was a man others would listen to.