The Devil's Cat Part 26

"What they was doin' over in them cells?"

"l.u.s.tful things," Brother Lester said.

"Have mercy!" the messenger said.

"Gimme some more of that chicken over there. Thanks. We got to make plans this afternoon. It's up to us, Elmer. Ain't n.o.body else gonna do it. We're all alone in this fight."

"We'll stand firm, Brother Lester," he was a.s.sured.

"I know you will. Gimme some of that cornhread over yonder. Thanks. We're all alone, Elmer. All alone."

"How about them that's supposed to be gatherin' to fight the devil?"

Brother Lester laughed. "Now, Elmer. You don't really really believe in werewolves and vampires and all that other nonsense, do you?" believe in werewolves and vampires and all that other nonsense, do you?"

Elmer grinned. "Heck no, Brother Lester. But we're mighty few agin so many in this town. That's all I was sayin'."

"I hate to say this, Elmer, but I think we're gonna have to arm ourselves.

"Hot d.a.m.n!" Elmer blurted.

Brother Lester gave him a reproachful look.

"Sorry," Elmer muttered. "I got carried away a bit."

"We're all human, Elmer. The Lord forgives you, I'm sure."

"Guns, Brother Lester? But who are we goin' be fightin'?"

"The purveyors of filth, Elmer. Them folks who have failed to heed the Good Book. Them folks who continue to wallow amid the fleshy pleasures of l.u.s.tful sin."

Elmer just loved loved it when Brother Lester got to talkin' like that. Made him feel all gooey inside. "I'm ready, Brother Lester!" it when Brother Lester got to talkin' like that. Made him feel all gooey inside. "I'm ready, Brother Lester!"

"I know you are, Elmer. But we got to preach and pray and sing and shout and stomp some more. We all got to look for a sign. When it comes, then we'll know it's time to move."

"Amen, Brother Lester!"

9.

Delivery trucks from out of the parish made their usual runs into Becancour, servicing all the stores with milk and b.u.t.ter and canned goods and shoes and underwear. Everything appeared normal.

Except ... the shopkeepers and clerks and so forth seemed, well, odd-acting. They weren't rude or anything like that. They were just, well, sort of distant.

The delivery men and women were, although they didn't know why, relieved when they drove out of Becancour, breathing a sigh of relief when they put the city limits sign behind them.

Then they all, to a person, forgot all about the strange behavior of those they'd met in Becancour. They just completely forgot all about being in Becancour that day.

Sam left Nydia and Little Sam at the clinic. He borrowed a pickup truck from Tony for the duration, leaving Nydia the car and returning the borrowed car to Colter. Sam felt more comfortable in a pickup. He put his sawed-off shotgun in the rear window gun rack, laid his big .41 mag on the seat beside him, and stowed his .22 autoloader in a front pocket of the seat covers.

He tossed a dozen sharpened stakes and a heavy mallet onto the floorboards.

"You want to take a ride?" he asked Father Javotte. The priest eyeballed the stakes and the mallet. "You feel it's time for that?"

"If I know for sure who they are," Sam said, "I'll finish them."

Javotte nodded his head and climbed into the truck. Sam drove the circle drive and pulled out onto the street, pointing the truck toward Becancour. "What are your plans, Sam? Today, I mean?"

"Well, Padre," Sam said with a grin. "It's a hot day, and I'd kind of like to have a cool one. How about you?"

The exorcist returned the grin. "I could stand a brew. Drive on."

They drove to Lula's Love-Inn and parked by the side. Sam slipped the light .22 caliber autoloader behind his belt, covering it with his shirt. He slipped a fully loaded spare into his back pocket. "You ready, Padre?"

The priest smiled and reached under his shirt. He produced a short-barreled .38 revolver. "Love will conquer all, Sam. But sometimes it helps to keep an ace in the hole."

The men laughed and got out of the truck, walking to the front door. Sam pushed it open and stepped into the beery, murky barroom, Javotte right behind him. They stood for a moment, giving their eyes time to adjust to the sudden darkness.

Several tables were occupied by smelly men and women; the place reeked of unwashed human flesh. One table was occupied by a group of teenagers. Lula stood behind the bar. Jules Nahan sat on a bar stool. Walt Davis stood at the end of the bar, wearing a T-shirt and faded jeans. His feet were bare. A large cat lay on the bar before him.

Humans and animal stared at Sam and Javotte. Sam closed the door.

Sam and Javotte walked to the bar and took stools close to the front door. Lula walked stiffly toward the men. Sam studied her as she walked. Her eyes were dead, and she shuffled more than walked. And she was filthy, her hair matted. When she opened her mouth to speak, her breath fouled the already stinking air of the barroom.

"What'd you guys want?"

Sam met her gaze and saw a touch of fear in those dead eyes. "Two beers, in cans, unopened."

She nodded her head and flipped open the lid to a cooler. She placed two cans of beer on the bar.

Sam tossed a couple of dollars onto the bar.

Lula pushed the money back to him. "On the house, boys. Drink up and haul your a.s.ses outta here. You're not welcome."

"Do we offend you, miss?" Javotte asked gently.

Lula laughed. "That's one way of puttin' it, a.s.shole.

"Bear this in mind, Father," Sam whispered to Javotte "They accepted the Dark One willingly. They were not forced into anything. Whatever happens to them, they brought it on themselves."

"I have colleagues who would argue that, Sam," the priest returned the whisper.

"They're wrong. I don't have to tell you the devil preys on hypocrites and the morally weak. These people are lost, Padre. Lost forever. You can't-no one can-exorcise an entire town."

"What now, Sam?"

"They want Satan. Let's send a few of them to meet him."

Javotte's eyes flicked around the room. "Two against twenty or so? You like to play dangerously, don't you?"

"Coming to this town was not my choice, Padre. I am what G.o.d told me to be."

"And you're not afraid?" Javotte whispered.

"h.e.l.l, no."

Javotte chuckled grimly. "Very well. I'm with you."

"Stay loose, Padre." Sam opened his beer and took a pull. He looked around the room. Kick a.s.s and take name-time, he thought.

"Which one of you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds would like to be the first one to try something?" Sam challenged.

A young man rose from his chair.

"Don Hemming," Javotte whispered. "He's a tough kid, believe me."

"I'm tougher," Sam said.

Javotte smiled and shook his head. He genuinely liked this brash young Sam Balon.

"I'll not only try it," Don said, balling his hands into fists. "But I'll do it."

"Bring your a.s.s over here, hot-shot," Sam said, taking another pull of the cold beer.

Don ran toward the two men, kicking tables and chairs out of the way.

Sam slipped from the bar stool, ducked under the wildly thrown right fist, and slipped under the young man's arm. Sam grabbed Don's belt and tossed him across the barroom floor. Don's b.u.t.t and back slid across the floor. He came to rest against a wail, by the silent jukebox. Sam reached him before he could gather his senses and get up. His right boot lashed out, catching the punk in the mouth with the toe of leather. Blood spurted and teeth broke off, falling to the floor, glistening wetly as they rolled and clicked.

Don was out of it for a while.

Sam grabbed up a long neck and smashed the half-full beer bottle into the face of the girl who had initiated the confrontation. The girl screamed as the busted gla.s.s ripped her flesh. She fell from her chair, both hands to her b.l.o.o.d.y face. She lay on the dirty floor, sobbing.

The cat on the bar hissed and snarled and sprang at Sam. Javotte's .38 roared in the close air of the barroom. A huge hole appeared in the cat's left side as the hollow nosed lead exited. The cat was slung to the far side of the room, dead.

The barroom was suddenly very quiet. Those who had chosen the pitted path of the Prince of Darkness sat in shocked silence. Everyone had said this was going to be easy.

Somebody lied.

Don's crying and moaning and the girl's sobbing and blubbering was the only sound.

Sam stood in the center of the room. Javotte noted that the man was not even breathing hard.

"Back out of the door, Padre," Sam told him. "Check the outside before you step out."

Javotte opened the door and glanced out, looking left and right. "It's clear."

"You folks have a real nice day," Sam told the barroom crowd. "Next time is going to be much more interesting, I a.s.sure you."

He stepped out into G.o.d's sunlight and joined Javotte. The two men walked swiftly to the pickup. Sam cranked up and drove off.

"That was very exhilarating!" Javotte said.

Sam laughed. "And that was good shooting, Padre."

"Thank you. Target shooting is a favorite hobby of mine."

"Could you kill a human being, Padre?"

"We're not facing human beings, Sam. Could I kill an innocent? No. Could I, would I, kill a follower of Satan? Yes."

Sam nodded his head, his eyes and attention on a group of cats padding noiselessly up the sidewalk that ran alongside the street. "They're pacing us," Sam noted. Then he cut his eyes to the other side of the street. He slowed, then stopped the pickup. "No, they're not pacing us. They seem to be going somewhere. Do you get that feeling, Padre?"

The priest watched the parade of cats, lines of them. Hundreds of them had appeared. They were all padding off to the northeast, angling through alleys and side streets.

"Yes. They seem to have a definite destination in mind."

"But where?"

Father Javotte was silent for a moment, his eyes on the cats. "I don't like what I'm thinking, Sam."

"Let me see if I like it or not."

"Let's a.s.sume the cats have a destination in mind. It certainly appears that way. Perhaps they are, well, going to a meeting or a gathering of some sort?"

"Go on."

"But animals are not p.r.o.ne to do that sort of thing, right?"

"Not to my knowledge. But these cats are under the power of ..."

Sam let that drift off, the words hanging in the air.

"Precisely," Javotte said.

"He does not make appearances in the daylight, Padre."

"No. I would think not. Perhaps the cats are leaving a bit early, to get a good seat." The priest started laughing, with just a bit of hysteria touching the words.

"Padre?"

Javotte wiped his eyes and sobered. "Forgive me, Sam. The dark humor of what I was saying struck home. I'm sitting here discussing cats going early to a meeting, in order to get a good seat. It would be very easy to lose one's grip on reality in this matter, would it not?"

"Very easy." He put the pickup in gear and moved out. "Let's tag along, Padre. See where they're going."