The Devil You Know (34 page)

They
went back to the car, and Tom helped her climb onto its roof. From there, Tom
was chin-high to the top of the wall, while Marie could still not see over it.
“You never saw any dogs here, did you?” he asked.

“No.”

“You
think you can do this?”

She
raised her eyebrows optimistically and said, “Only one way to find out.”

With
a little hop, Tom got his elbows onto the wall and then pulled himself up to
sit on it. Balancing himself with one hand, he bent down to hook his other hand
under Marie’s upper arm and helped pull her as she struggled up beside him. She
scraped her wrist on the rough concrete along the top of the wall and told
herself that she needed to buy herself a pair of pants at her first
opportunity. The dress she wore was sensible, but hardly suitable for scaling
walls.

His
back to the house, Tom leaned down to grip the top of the wall and then swung
his legs over before slowly lowering himself. Marie cringed as she watched his
face slip farther away from her. When he held on only by his fingertips and his
arms were fully extended, he let go, and she watched him curl up on himself as
he landed. She held her breath until she saw him stand up. In the darkness on
the other side of the wall, she could barely make out his smile and the
thumbs-up sign he gave her. Then it was her turn. She slid over the same way he
had done, thankful for the thick sleeves of her coat as she raked her forearms
along the rough edge at the top of the wall. As she lowered herself, her arms
trembled, and she was relieved to feel Tom’s hands on her ankles and then her
thighs. If her arms gave out, she knew he would at least help break the fall.
When she could lower herself no farther, she let go of the wall and felt him
put his arms around her waist as they fell together into the soft grass.

“You
okay?” he said. They lay side by side, their arms around each other, and their
faces inches apart. She wanted to kiss him.

“Yeah,”
she made herself say instead. “Let’s go.”

There
were no cars and few trees in this section of the estate, so they moved briskly
across the lawn, conscious that the moonlight took away all the cover they had
once they left the shadow of the wall. If anyone had been watching from inside
the house, it would have been clear that there were intruders on the grounds.

Relieved
not to have detected any sign of alarm, Marie and Tom reached the courtyard on
the other side of the circular driveway and stealthily approached the door. Tom
tried it gingerly at first, and then, finding it locked, twisted the knob a bit
harder, hoping it might not have been latched all the way. He shook his head at
Marie and whispered, “Windows?”

She
shook her head and waved for him to follow. Moving as fast as they could
without making a noise, they crept around to the side of the building. Marie
was looking for a gate or staircase that would lead down to the pool at the
back of the house. She spotted an opening in a hedge at the building’s
westernmost corner.

“Down
that way,” she whispered. “Then back upstairs.”

“And
if it’s locked?”

“Then
windows.”

The
stairs were steep and had no rail, so each ran one hand lightly on the side of
the house as they approached the pool. On the far side of the steps, the estate
was not landscaped, and wild chaparral and other plants grew right up to its
edge. Marie carefully lifted the latch on the wrought-iron gate that led to the
pool, hoping the hinges would not squeak. The lights that had burned around the
pool on the night of the party were extinguished now, and she was grateful to
see no moonlight swimmers in the water. Carefully pushing the gate open, she
led the way, and Tom closed it silently behind. Marie found the door she had
walked out of the night of the party, and when she looked up, she saw faint,
flickering light coming from the ballroom, the great picture window she had
looked out now offering the only point of reference as she stared up.

Carefully,
she tried the door and exhaled with relief when she felt the knob turn. Nodding
to Tom, she twisted it open and then stepped aside to let him go first, Luger
in hand. It took several seconds for their eyes to adjust to the dark; when she
could see clearly enough, Marie tapped Tom’s shoulder before taking his arm and
leading him to the stairs. Her perception perhaps distorted by anticipation, it
seemed to Marie that it took them longer to climb these stairs on the inside of
the house than it had taken to descend the concrete steps on the outside even
though they had to cover the same distance. She followed closely behind Tom,
not even wanting to breathe so that she could listen more closely for signs of
activity in the house above.

The
stairway opened onto a small room not far from the main entrance. Marie
remembered clearly the layout of this part of the house, so she took the lead
through darkened rooms, both of them taking deliberate steps as they moved
toward the ballroom. As they moved through the darkened house, Marie could hear
voices ahead of them, none clear enough to be intelligible. Soon, though, the
voices took on an ominous sound, as they unified and began taking up what she
thought must be a chant of some kind. Still, there were no words, only low
hums, made by several male voices all at once.

There
was considerable light ahead of them once they rounded one more corner, and
Marie knew that she would soon be able to peek around the next wall and see
into the main room. They were approaching it from the side, coming into it at a
point parallel to where the band had played the night of the party. She
squeezed Tom’s wrist to indicate that they should stop, and they stood there
barely breathing as the chanting continued around the corner.

She
saw Tom nod to her in the dark, and so she crept around the corner, her hands
on the wall. Tom kept one of his hands on her hip just to let her know he was
still there. Peeking slowly, she saw that the great room had been transformed
since the night of the party. The artwork and mirrors that had lined the walls
had all been hidden behind immense black curtains that stretched from ceiling
to floor; the ornate chandeliers that had lit the room that night were all
extinguished now, and the only light in the room came from the dozens of
candles that burned throughout. There were clusters of them on every tabletop
and candelabras mounted on stands in at least ten spots that she could see.

All
of this she took in peripherally, as her eyes were drawn to the activity in the
room. She counted quickly and saw twelve men standing in the center of the room
forming a horseshoe around the sides and end of a long table. Each wore a long,
black robe with a hood pulled over his head, chanting the same succession of
tones over and over in unison. The hoods were large enough to cast shadows over
their faces, so Marie could not identify any of them. They all had their hands
extended over the center of the table.

She
turned to Tom, who had moved up beside her. Together they watched for a moment
as the strange ritual continued. Then he looked questioningly at her, as if to
ask how he should proceed. All she could do was raise her eyebrows and shrug.
They had not known what they would encounter when they got into the house, and since
they had come in without a plan, all they could do now was improvise.

Tom
took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadows. He pointed the gun at the
wall of men before him and said, “Piedmont!”

The
chanting stopped immediately. The men in robes began to shuffle in a panic, but
then a voice rose up, shouting, “None of you move! None of you.” One of the men
at the head of the table peeled the hood back off his head and looked at Tom
and Marie. It was Julian Piedmont. He looked terrifying and completely mad to
Marie, deep lines on his forehead and the bridge of his nose accentuated by
shadow, the whites of his wide-open eyes and the white teeth in his maniacal
smile reflecting the flickering light of all the candles. He looked past Tom,
his gaze settling on Marie, who had stepped partly out of the shadows when Tom
interrupted the ritual. “You see, gentlemen?” Piedmont said after a moment.
“You didn’t fail. Our little angel of death has come before us of her own free
will.”

Sounding
fed up, Tom said, “Enough. I want all of you to back against the wall.”

“He’s
not going to shoot us,” Julian said. “He’s not a murderer. None of you move.”

“Don’t
push me, Piedmont,” Tom said. He sounded angry. “Which one’s Krebs? He’s the
first of you sons of bitches I wouldn’t mind putting a hole in.”

During
the exchange between Tom and Julian, the rest of the men had remained
obediently still. Marie watched them for any sign that one might be Colin or
the incubus. Then she saw another figure over in the shadows at the corner of
the room. “There’s another one over there,” she said to Tom, not worried about
being overheard now.

“Get
over here,” Tom said. “Is that Krebs?”

“That’s
just our poor Malliol,” said Julian. “Come into the light, Malliol,” he said in
the direction of the lone figure.

Marie
watched as the fifth incubus stepped closer to one of the candelabras. This was
the one that looked like James Cagney, but there was clearly something wrong
with it. While the other incubi had all swaggered confidently and inhabited
their male bodies with bravado, this one seemed to be shrinking in upon
himself. He shuffled with hunched shoulders and twitched his head and arms
frequently. Every so often, he would whip his head to the left or the right as
though startled by something beside him that was not actually there. With
difficulty, Marie remembered how this same creature had once propositioned her
at the bottom of the stairs; it looked so feeble now that it was hard to
imagine the damage it had done to Elise and all its other victims.

“Malliol
needs to be released,” said Julian sympathetically. “There’s something not
right about him.”

“So
if he’s not Krebs, which one is?” Tom asked.

Piedmont
smiled even more widely. “As for our friend Colin, I’m afraid none of us has
seen him for days, not since he failed to keep Ezgeroth out of the clutches of
Blondie here.” He nodded toward Marie, and the smile was tempered with disgust.

“You’re
lying,” Tom said. “That son of a bitch came to you and told you it was Marie killing
your demons. How else could you have known?”

Julian
laughed loudly, his only response to Tom’s questions.

“Because
I told them,” said the man next to Julian. Marie gasped involuntarily when she
heard the voice and then watched in disbelief as the man pulled back his hood.
For a moment, she feared she would vomit at the sight of Father Joe standing
beside Piedmont, his priest’s collar traded in for one of the absurd robes.

“No,”
Marie said, her voice barely audible.

“Who
is he?” Tom asked, keeping the Luger’s barrel pointed at Julian Piedmont the
whole time.

“Father
Joe,” she said feebly, shaking her head.

“The
priest?”

“Not
anymore,” said Father Joe. “At least not in the traditional sense of the word.”
He held his arms up, his hands barely sticking out of the robe’s sleeves as the
material hung down, looking like dark wings. “This is my new church. My new
flock.”

“Is
it really him?” Tom asked. “Or another one of those things?”

“I
assure you I’m not an incubus, young man. Although the same may not be said
about you, for long.” Father Joe smiled broadly at them as he spoke.

“Do
you understand what’s going on here, Marie?” Tom asked.

“I
think so,” she said. “Colin confessed to you, told you everything, didn’t he?” The
priest did not answer, but just kept smiling at Marie while she spoke. “And you
got curious. He told you where to find Julian. And the book. You’ve been coming
up here since. You’ve been helping them.”

“Essentially,”
he said.

“And
then you abandoned Colin, didn’t you? Spiritually. You left him on his own
after he bared his soul to you.” She looked at Tom. “That’s why he defiled the
church.”

Father
Joe laughed at this. “Did he? The boy’s got more guts than I gave him credit
for.”

Marie
turned back toward him, saying, “And it was you who told them about Ryan. Sent
the incubus after me.” As she had been speaking, the whole conversation had
carried a dreamlike quality, the sort of feeling she had in dreams when one
person changed inexplicably into another. But all of this was more real than
anything she could ever have imagined. Now, all she could say was “Why?”

“To
stop you, of course.”

“No,”
she said, shaking her head. “Why all this? Why the whole thing?”

He
chuckled. “My dear, this life offers so much more. Do you think God cares which
of his creatures I attend to? Julian has helped me find my true self, my true
religion.” He rubbed his hands together. “And now we’re going to make it so
much better.” He took a few steps away from the table, toward her and Tom. When
Tom trained the Luger on him, he stopped and held his hands up. “No reason to
get upset, young man. This can all be quite friendly. You see, when you started
dispatching our friends, you actually did me a bit of a favor. They were
amusing, but only to a point. What we need is not an incubus but a succubus.
The thing that fool Krebs should have conjured in the first place.”