Evil Unearthed: Chapter 42

Chapter Forty-two

When Stephen woke, the sun was well up, and by the time he had managed to clamber achingly out of bed and wash, noon was bright upon the island as he moved laboriously through the house, looking for signs of life. However, before he found either Kathleen or Miss Desmond, he remembered the work he wanted to do on Jacques' coffin, and finding a hammer and some thick roofing nails among a pile of materials the builders had left, he was soon in the crypt and hammering for all he was worth. His body ached and his mind still spun, but this work satisfied him. It was as though he was doing something tangible at last. No longer was he dealing with demons and spirits but with wood and nails, with the main strength in his hands and with the honest weight of the hammer. These were things he could quantify, things he could grasp, and as he thought about this, he suddenly wished desperately that he was in some primal forest and clubbing a saber-tooth tiger to death. For the first time in a long time, he was glorying in his cave man instincts, but as he pounded the last nail in, he suddenly felt utterly inadequate once more. How could wood and metal protect anyone from the malevolent forces which could awaken at any time? How could even that waxen image do any good, even with its attendant silver pin? Had they truly accomplished anything by coming here?

Then, as he stood back to survey his handiwork, he fell to thinking of what he would do now that all was truly over. Was he just meant to return to the priesthood and to his professor's podium once more as though he had never been away? Was he supposed to simply forget Vangie, and what was his duty to Kathleen and Miss Desmond? He was the only one left of the spiritual triumvirate of which he had been a part. Barrett lay buried among the bones of many native islanders, Vangie was gone and most likely would soon be buried in her own grave, and here he was, the Catholic priest who had broken his vow of celibacy and had performed an unsanctioned exorcism on one of the world's richest people, and who had gone native, if only for a while, for the love of a woman whom many in his faith might call an island witch. Who was he now, and where was he to go?

"You know where you have to go and what you have to do," said the voice of his conscience, which sounded now very like that of the Conjure Woman. "Remember, the devil is eternal, and you are sworn to fight him."

He knew that this was true, and as he climbed the stairs out of the Desmond family tomb for what he hoped would be the final time in his life, he suddenly hit upon an idea which seemed sound to him. He would do as the Aborigines of Australia sometimes did, and he would go walkabout. He would follow Barrett's footsteps and travel the roads he had traveled. He would learn mysteries and take shamanic concoctions and do even as his mentor had done, but instead of writing books, he would search out the strange places where the worlds of the natural and the supernatural seemed to collide. He would exorcise, he would banish, he would stand between humanity and the inhuman creatures which haunt the edges of dream and which occasionally spill over into waking life. He would be what Barrett had never been and what Vangie had called him; he would be a true priest at last. He would have to tell his Bishop and the powers that be at the university that he was leaving, but he had no family to worry about him anymore, so he thought that it would be quite feasible.

Still, he reflected, it will be difficult to leave these islands. Already they seemed to have found their way into his blood. The scents of the jungle and the sound of the sea all seemed to proclaim the presence of the woman he loved, and to have to admit that she had given her life for the good of someone like Julia Desmond was beyond enduring.

"Been busy, have you?" Kathleen's voice startled him as he entered the kitchen.

"Yes," he said with a joviality which he did not feel. "Jacques Eloi Des Mondes will find it hard to rise again. Where is Miss Desmond?"

"I got her off the island as soon as the sea-plane could get here. She needs doctors, Stephen. I bet that Vangie could--" Her voice trailed off and then resumed. "I'm sorry. I guess you would rather I didn't mention her."

"Why didn't you go with your friend?" He didn't want to think about Vangie right now, or at least he wanted to give himself the illusion that he could stop thinking about her for a moment.

"I wasn't leaving you here alone!" He was stunned at the look of reproach that crossed her face. "How could I have done that? I've asked the pilot to come back in the morning. Will that suit you?"

"I do need some more sleep," he said, "and I'm hungry."

"Luncheon will be served," she said in grand buttlerian tones, "on Sir's balcony in approximately twenty minutes, if Sir would kindly retire there," and with a graceful courtesy, she banished him from the room so she could, he presumed, work her culinary magic in solitude.

it was good to get out into the open. Though he had last been out here only two nights ago, everything seemed to have changed. Oh, the balcony, the air, the sea, all were just as they had been ever since he had first stood here on the afternoon of his arrival, but there was a lightness and a warmth now which penetrated his heart the way the strange chill he had felt at Bill Temple's bedside had done. He knew that whatever had truly happened here over these past few days had changed things fundamentally on this island. Or was that indeed it? Was it the island that had been changed, or was it himself? He had come to these islands at Barrett's invitation and what had Barrett promised him? He had promised him truth. He had promised him answers, and what had he found? Danger and evil beyond comprehension? Delight and ecstasy surpassing mere desire and satisfaction? Perhaps, but as the evil had been conquered, so the ecstasy had been consumed. He had been raped both physically and spiritually, Barrett had died, Kathleen had almost succumbed to the terrible forces at work and at play here, and now Vangie had apparently been spirited away. So, though the sun sparkled on the sea and though the afternoon breeze was balm to him, his spirit could not truly exult in triumph as he wished it to do.

"I think you'd know, Stephen," said Kathleen as she brought a simple meal of bread and cheese out to him. "I think you'd know if Vangie was really--well--I think you'd feel it."

"That thing did so much to her, Kat! She just couldn't have survived!"

"I don't know. I was almost dead and she saved me." Stephen was incredulous.

"What? You?"

"It isn't something I want to talk about, Stephen, but I'll tell you now. I took some poison. I got the demon to come into me and then I took the poison, hoping to die with the demon trapped inside my body."

"That's what the doll and the pin are supposed to do for Jacques: keep him bound in death. I'm just glad that didn't happen to you!"

"I don't know how I feel about it really. I don't know my place in the world anymore. Sure, I could go on being Julia's assistant, but well, I don't know. I feel as though I've been turned inside-out over these past weeks."

"I know exactly what you mean," he replied, giving her a rueful smile.

"Oh," she said after a while. "I wanted to tell you. I gave Julia the pearl and told her what it was, and she put it into the locket and before she left, she threw the locket into the channel."

"Well, that's that laid to rest at last then anyway. I'm happy she didn't decide to keep it."

"It was funny," said Kathleen. "As she let go of it, she suddenly seemed to grow even weaker than she already was. Perhaps it was a tie to the demon or something."

"Or perhaps she knew that once she let go of the locket, everything was really over and she could stop struggling."

"We'll never know, I suppose. I hope she can stay alive, Stephen! I hope this Cancer doesn't beat her!"

"I hope it doesn't either. That demon I can't exorcise."

"She wants you to come and see her before you leave, you know."

"I wouldn't have the first notion of what to say to her!"

"Well, think about it. She'll be out of the hospital in a few days, they say, and then she'll stay at the hotel for a while to convalesce."

"Will you be staying as well?"

"For now, yes. When she's recovered, I really don't know. Would you be surprised to learn that there was a time in my life when I thought I had a monastic vocation?"

"Not really," he said and couldn't help laughing. "Doesn't every good Irish Catholic girl think that at some point?"

"I'm sure you're right, but still, I really did think about it."

"Well," he said, leaning back in his wicker chair, "if this little adventure has taught me anything, it's that truly all things are possible!"

"Amen, Father," she replied, toasting him with her glass of water. "Amen!"

"Kat," he said suddenly, standing up and looking deeply into her eyes, "I don't think either of us should spend another night in this house. Do you think you could call that pilot of yours and ask him to come as soon as he can? I can sleep at the hotel likely better than I could here, after all."

"You're right," she said. "I'll do it right now! We'll be away before the sun sets," and with that, she bustled away with their empty paper plates and glasses, leaving him to contemplate once more the strange situation in which he now found himself.

Looking out over the ever-changing surface of the sea, he realized that going walkabout was the only thing he could do now. His mind and heart had been torn to shreds by the events of the past few weeks, but although many might wish keenly for home and familiarity at a time like this, he knew that home would now be the least familiar place of all for him. It wasn't so much that it would be boring, but that it would be futile for him to return to his books and his lecturing. The evil he had fought here was real and could not be confined to a mere point on a map. He had to learn about it, to meet it on its own terms, and he knew that the culture of which he was a part was no longer equipped to face and to deal with such things. He remembered what Vangie had said about her own inner conflict between modern notions of parapsychology and the ancestral ways of her people. It had only been when she had embraced her culture's ancient traditions that she had truly found her strength. He knew that he too could do this, devoting himself to a life of prayer and silence as a monk, but he also knew that this would not be enough. Besides, if Kathleen really did leave Julia to become a nun, he felt that the church would be in good and capable hands.

He smiled as he thought about Kathleen O'Dell as the Abbess of a convent somewhere in the green hills of Ireland. She would be a terror to any demon, he thought, and then he suddenly wanted her presence again, so turning for the last time from that beguiling dance of water and light, he went into his room, packed his few belongings, and went in search of her. Together they would await the coming plane, and together they would leave the now-quiet island and face whatever awaited them beyond its shores.