Jon Merz - Vicarious

“Oh?”

“She directed me to some valuable resources in the library that helped me with a project.”

Sister McDewey smiled. “Sister Donovan always had a great head on her. So many facts and figures rattling through there. I can’t tell you how many times she helped me. We’ll all miss her terribly.”

“She’s not dead yet.” Lauren hoped it didn’t come out sounding as bad as she thought it might have.

But Sister McDewey frowned. “Lauren, don’t be like that. The doctors were quite sure in their estimates.”

“I’d like to see her one last time.” Maybe she can give me some final words of advice.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“What can it hurt? A simple thank-you to let her know how much she helped? It might do her some good.”

“Are you sure there’s not some other reason?”

Lauren smiled. “What other reason would I have for bothering a woman close to death?”

“I don’t know.” Sister McDewey considered her for a moment and then nodded. “Very well. Her address is just a few blocks away. Do you know the neighborhood?”

“Well enough.”

“Then here’s how you go…”

Outside again, Lauren felt the first drops of cold rain hit her face. She opened her umbrella and hurried along the slick sidewalks toward the street Sister McDewey had pointed her.

Had she fooled Sister McDewey? Lauren sighed. She guessed it didn’t really matter. There were some things she was prepared to do in the interest of the world that might not jibe with the Church’s official position. And she was prepared for those decisions.

Her heels clicked on the cement and echoed out into the growing darkness. Breezes roared off to her right side, making the huge linden trees wave and sway, their branches clawing the fabric of night.

The house was small. A simple ranch with a single floor, painted in white with black shutters. There was nothing amazing about it. It was as ordinary as any other home nearby.

Lauren rang the bell.

The door opened a moment later. A young nun peered out through the screen door.

“Yes?”

Lauren smiled. The rain had increased making her face wet. “I’d like to see Sister Donovan, please.”

“She can’t be disturbed now. She’s asleep. Come back tomorrow.”

Lauren pressed closer to the door. “Please. It’s very important I see her right now. I understand she may not have all that much time left.”

“She can’t be-“

A voice behind the young nun interrupted her. “Let her in Mary, it’s all right.”

The young nun frowned but unlatched the screen door. Lauren ducked inside as a huge peal of thunder broke out behind her and the sky pissed down with cold rain.

“Just in time, aren’t you?”

Lauren looked and saw Sister Donovan wrapped in a robe standing in the doorway of another room. The young nun rushed to her side.

“Sister, sit down.”

“It’s okay Mary. I’m all right. The good lord doesn’t want me checking out just yet. I’ve got a few more things to do here before that happens.” Her eyes twinkled and she winked at Lauren. “Now, would you be a dear and go fetch me a cup of tea? Just a little sugar to sweeten it if you would. I so hate the bitter taste of sugarless tea.”

Mary looked at Lauren. “You’ll watch her?”

Lauren nodded. “We’ll be fine.”

Mary left the room. Sister Donovan waved at Lauren. “Come into my room, dear.”

Lauren walked down the narrow hallway. On the green walls there were scores of framed pictures of a younger Sister Donovan in various countries around the world. Has she really been to all these places, thought Lauren.

“I did a lot of work overseas. I told you that, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Those pictures, they’re all I have left aside from the memories. I guess that’s the way it is when you do God’s work.”

Lauren ducked through the doorway into the bedroom. A large crucifix hung on the wall. She spotted an oxygen tank on the floor next to the bed with an air mask lying atop it.

Sister Donovan sat down in an easy chair and then reached for the air mask. She took a few deep breaths and then laid it back down.

“Funny how quick life can go on you. I saw you yesterday. Would you have thought I was close to dying?”

“Not at all.”

“Must have been that silly cigarette.” She laughed. “Ah well. We’ve all got to go sometime.”

“Sister-“

“You found the library all right?”

“Yes. No problems.”

“And you found what you were looking for inside the room?”

“The key you gave me opened the door, yes.”

“Not about the key, dear. About what you found inside the room.”

“Yes.”

She leaned back. “So, you know then.”

“About the Soul Eater.” Lauren felt a chill even as she said it.

Sister Donovan reached for the air mask. “Yes.” She inhaled deeply and coughed a bit. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in many years.”

“But you know all about it?”

Sister Donovan shrugged. “I only know some of it, hon. There was man who knew much more than any of us ever did.”

“Graham Westerly.”

Sister Donovan smiled. “So you know that, too.”

“His name was erased in the margin of the book.”

“Done so by those who didn’t want there to be a record of his work. It’s tough to explain I suppose, but there are those in the Church who think such things as demons and possessions and all the other tools of evil shouldn’t be discussed at all. Almost as if they think if they don’t talk about it, it will go away.”

She smiled. “But evil doesn’t go away simply because we don’t believe or acknowledge it. It simply continues to grow in power. And when we finally do acknowledge its existence, sometimes it’s too late to stop.”

Lauren leaned forward. “There have been two deaths in Boston so far that seem attributable to this Soul Eater.”

Sister Donovan nodded. “He’s been at work for many years now. Boston, I fear, is the last stop for him on his global travels.”

“He’s been around the world?”

“Oh yes. For many years. You see, the Soul Eater isn’t mortal. He’s a demon in the form of a man.”

A demon? Lauren shivered again. It was one thing to read about such things, but to actually know one was prowling Boston terrified her. “But for what purpose?”

Sister Donovan looked up as Mary reentered the room with a cup of tea. “Here you are, Sister.”

Sister Donovan smiled. “Thank you Mary. Now be a good soul and leave us for a bit so we might talk, all right?”

“Very well. Best to drink the tea before long, though. Otherwise it will be cold.”

“I will. Don’t you worry.”

Mary left and Sister Donovan set the cup down. “She looks after me wonderfully. She can’t be faulted for not wanting to let you in earlier.”

“Of course not.” Lauren tried to smile but desperately wanted to get back to discussing the Soul Eater.

“Graham Westerly was a man born to studying the occult. Fortunately for the rest of the world, he did so out of good rather than evil. He traveled extensively cataloging a veritable grimoire of evil. Demons, wraiths, poltergeists, he documented them all.”

“And the Soul Eater?”

“He found him, so to speak, as well.” She coughed again. “Apparently, throughout time, the Soul Eater has appeared in various accounts of the Church. In years bygone, he would appear in small hamlets and towns far removed from the big cities. For what reason, we never really knew. Not until Graham came along.”

“You sound like you knew him.”

Sister Donovan smiled. “I wasn’t always a nun dear. When I met Graham he was already forty years old. And I, well I was considerably younger. We fell in love. He took me along on some of his trips.”