Jon Merz - Vicarious

“What happened?”

“He disappeared on a journey into the South American jungles in 1947. He’d picked up the trail shortly after World War 2 ended. Heard about something happening in Rio de Janeiro.” Sister Donovan’s eyes seemed wistful. “I was sick here so he left me behind. Reluctantly. I never saw him again.”

Lauren shivered as the room suddenly seemed to get colder.

Sister Donovan reached for the mug and took a sip of tea. “I became a nun soon after, thinking I could best continue his work that way. I never expected to run up against so much pressure to not delve into arcane subjects like Satanism.”

Lauren could imagine how it felt. “But you did anyway.”

“What I did was travel doing missionary work while covertly trying to continue Graham’s work. I did a lot, I suppose. Most of it is in the form of-”

She stopped.

“Sister Donovan?”

The old nun’s eyes went wide.

Gasped.

Grabbed her throat.

Lauren sprang from her chair. “Sister!”

Sister Donovan slumped out of the chair to the ground. Lauren yelled out. “Mary!”

But Mary didn’t appear. Lauren knelt over Sister Donovan’s body feeling for a pulse in her neck. She found a thready slow drum. Sister Donovan's eyes fluttered, already dilating.

“Too late…dear.”

“Hang on!” Lauren turned. “Mary!”

Sister Donovan’s hand reached for Lauren. “Remember…he lives best…through the evil…of…others…”

Sister Donovan’s hand fell away. Her eyes went black.

Lauren stood.

Felt a huge rush of cold air sweep into the room, scattering the books on the shelves. She screamed. Around her the blast of wind howled and roared.

Lauren clutched her cross and prayed, her voice ringing out above the windstorm.

“No!”

The wind died down.

And she heard the laughter.

Low.

Soft.

It vanished within a few seconds.

Lauren turned and hurried from the room.

And almost stumbled over the body of the young nun.

She knelt and looked at Mary’s face.

Dead.

Another blast of cold air screeched into the house.

Lauren stood and ran.

She didn’t look back.

“I’m not lying, Steve.”

She searched his face for any sign that he didn’t believe her. But all she could see was the same stony expression he normally wore; his jaw set firm, his bushy eyebrows perfectly level. After two minutes of staring at her, he sighed.

“All right. But there’s really nothing I can do, is there?”

“I suppose not.” She glanced around the pizza joint on Commonwealth Avenue. It was the first place she’d run to after fleeing Sister Donovan’s house. Somehow, the divinity school campus didn’t seem safe anymore. Some place crowded seemed her best bet. Even at this late hour, Boston College students jammed into the small pizza shop while chomping through cheese and pepperoni pies.

Lauren had watched with quiet fascination as Curran had entered the shop and the throngs of students simply parted like the Red Sea for him to pass. Not that Curran looked like a huge linebacker, but he simply exuded that police presence that college students try to avoid. They gave Curran and Lauren plenty of room at their table.

Curran’s cell phone buzzed and he held it to his ear. Lauren watched him look at her and then away, then back at her again. Finally he mumbled something and hung up.

“What is it?”

He looked pained. “You sure about that address?”

“Of course.” She frowned. “Why?”

Curran took a sip of the soda he’d bought when he’d shown up a few minutes ago. “I had a few units go to the house. Check it out. You know — standard stuff, considering what you relayed to me.”

“And?”

He looked at her and sighed. “There are no bodies there, Lauren.”

A chill ran down her back. In her mind she could see them clear as day all over again. She could feel the cold creeping up her back. She could hear the howls, the screeches. She could hear Sister Donovan’s dying words.

“Steve-“

He held up his hand. “Don’t bother trying to explain it. It sounds so weird and bizarre it probably happened.”

“You believe me?”

Curran smirked. “I don’t know what the hell I’m believing lately. Things are happening here that don’t fit into my normal universe. But they’re happening anyway. Whether or not I choose to believe in them.”

Lauren grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Curran’s face creased and he pulled back.

I offended him, she thought. “What is it?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Steve-“

He looked away. “You think it was the Soul Eater again?”

She shook her head. “Forget that for a minute.”

“I don’t think we should.”

Lauren looked down. She shouldn’t have touched him. She wasn’t a nun yet but Steve sure had a way of treating her like she was the last virgin in the universe.

“I think it was.”

Curran looked around the shop. Some of the students who had been eyeing him quickly turned away. “I’m getting tired of this.”

She looked up. “The deaths?”

“The everything. I’ve chased this guy for years and he’s baited me every step of the way. He ruined my past and now he’s threatening my future. I’m not ready to give that up without a fight.”

“But we don’t know anything about him.”

“Don’t we?” Curran smiled then. Warmth spread over his face and Lauren saw the confidence come into his eyes. “We know one thing that this guy looks for: evil.”

“A lot of people are evil, Steve.”

“But suppose he’s looking for the most evil people to be found. What about that?”

“Sister Donovan’s dying words to me were: ‘he lives best through the evil of others.’”

Curran frowned. “What do you think that means?”

“Supposedly the Soul Eater is connected to the resurrection of Satan.”

“The Devil?” Curran smirked.

“Don’t joke, Steve. It could well be true.” She wasn’t sure how far his fledgling resurgence of faith could be pushed, but he had to know the truth. Or at least, the potential truth.

“Now we’re talking about Lucifer and forked tails and brimstone. Wonderful.”

“I don’t understand how you can finally admit that one aspect of this case might be real while still denying the other.”

“I’m a stubborn bastard.”

You can say that again. Lauren sighed. “Fine, believe what you want. But it fits with your theory, even if you don’t want to believe it.”

“How would he resurrect Satan?”

“I don’t know. Why would he only kill evil people?”

“I don’t know,” said Curran. “But that’s what he’s doing. Sure enough.”

“And what do you propose we do?”

“I’m a cop. I can pull these records. Run the computers and see who they spit out as the worst of the worst. We put surveillance on the likely candidates and see who turns up.”

“That could be an awful lot of possible victims. You’d have to get a lot of other detectives involved.”

“I don’t think so. In fact, I’m willing to bet it’s just a handful of potential targets.”

“And you can pull officers to track them?” She wanted to hear how he intended to explain the case to his coworkers.

“I figured we could both take one. Maybe I can enlist some help outside the department.”

“You want me to do surveillance work?” She smiled. “I’m not exactly qualified to do that.”

“It’s not that hard.”

“No?”

“Just don’t get caught doing it.”

She laughed. “Easy for you to say, you’ve got a gun.”

Curran nodded. “That brings me to my next point.” He looked away and then leaned closer, his voice coming down in volume. “You should be carrying a piece.”