Neal Barrett Jr. - The Prophecy Machine

“Sorry for the intrusion, Master Sabatino,” he said with a scornful look at Finn. “There's trouble up here it seems, and we got to step in.”

“There is no trouble here, Constable Bob,” Sabatino said with particular disdain. “If there was, it is none of your concern. The Nuccis do not require your services at all.”

“With all respect, sir, I feel that you do. Your residence appears to be causing unrest. Some type of discharge, some sorta seep, some kind of ooze is coming from your place. Something, it seems, that clouds men's minds. Folks are reporting diarrhea and unholy thoughts. One lady said a demon intruded on her parts.”

“Rubbish, folderol,” Sabatino said. “We're having trouble with the plumbing, it's nothing more than that.”

The Constable glared at Finn.

“What happened to him?”

“I believe he's injured a leg.”

“That's another thing, sir, and I might as well say it right out. We know you've had persons-eating and sleeping, staying overnight in your house …”

Constable Bob rubbed his chin, having difficulty getting the words out. “That's not our way, I don't have to tell you that. Whatever else is going on here, it's causing unrest. That said, sir, I'm going to have to take a look at that house.”

“Please do.” Sabatino looked amused. “Have a look around.”

The Constable frowned. He had a most suspicious nature and didn't trust people who smiled.

“And you,” he said to Finn, “don't be hanging 'round TAVERNanymore, I'm not about to let you in.”

“You made that clear,” Finn said.

“Good. Nothing personal. We don't cater to perverts or strangers of any kind. Bursoni! Thomas! I want a squad over to the house. Move it right now! Ricko, get those louts in line!”

The Constable stalked off. Men of the Crimson Lancers Volunteers jogged into groups of three, seven and nine. Some, Finn noted, ran into one another. Others hooted and rapidly blinked their eyes.

“The volunteers …” Finn began.

“Don't start, Finn. The Lancers come from all denominations. We're not bigots here.”

“There's that.”

“Damn those bleeding meddlers, they can't blame this fiasco on me. They'll think diarrhea, if they run into Grandfather in there!”

And, as if the house had overheard, in some uncanny manner listened in, a new tremor shivered through the ground, quivered in dread oscillation through the very air …

The crowd began to moan in common fear. A young woman screamed, an old man dropped to the ground. Finn could feel the fearsome thing himself, feel the sickly emanations as a chill in his belly and a trembling in his head.

“I've got to get in there,” he said, “I can't just lie here, I've got to get her out!”

“Well, crawl right in, Master Finn,” Sabatino said with an unwholesome grin. “By all means, don't let us hold you back. Rescue the maiden, we'll cheer you on from here …”

Then, of a sudden, Sabatino's smile fell, replaced by a dark malicious glare.

“This day is yet to do its worst, I see. By damn, he's got gall coming here.”

Finn looked past Sabatino to see Nicoretti stalking through the crowd. He clutched a black bag in one hand, and two stubby Bowsers followed at his heels.

The Bowsers stopped some distance away, a great relief to Finn, as he suspected he'd seen the pair before. Mean-eyes and Pugnose, he was nearly sure.

“Ah, I see my services are sorely needed here,” Nicoretti said, dropping his bony frame to the ground. “What the devil have you done to yourself now, boy? A pleasure to see you as well, Nephew. Or possibly not,” he added, as Sabatino turned the other way.

“Bradley, Willie! Give us some cover over here. Let's get this lad out of the sun!”

“No, you don't have to do that,” Finn said, watching the Bowsers scamper off, snapping at the crowd. “I'm fine as I am.”

“Don't tell me my business, I won't stand for that. Hold still, this may hurt a bit …”

Finn loosed a frightful yell as Nicoretti yanked off his boot.

“I'll bet you don't have a lot of business, treating your patients like that.”

“Hush, lad. All you've got is a sprain. I'm going to wrap it, give you a couple of splints. Stay off that foot awhile, you'll be as good as new. Don't give me that look, it won't do you any good. That girlie's still in there, right? Forget it. You're not walking on that, not for some time. Wouldn't do you any good if you could. Whoever's in that fearsome place, they're not coming out. Now, how's that feel, too tight or what?”

Finn stared at the man, backing away from his touch.

“You don't know what you're talking about. Letitia's all right, and I'm getting her out of there.”

“You think so, do you?” Nicoretti gave a sly, secretive glance at Sabatino to see if he was far enough away.

“If you think you can,” he said, leaning close to Finn, “then you know what's in there, don't you? What foul secret the Nuccis are hiding from us all. Perhaps you'd like to share that with me. I've tried to be open with you, lad, I think you know that.”

“Open with me? Should I laugh, or would that be impolite?”

“I can help you, boy. But you have to help me.”

“And you can-what?” Finn asked, hurting all over, now, from his fall. Hurting everywhere, not solely in the foot.

“Can you get Letitia out? Can you help me do that? Oh, but you say she's dead, so that's out. I guess I don't need you at all, Doctor. Thanks for the lovely splint.”

Nicoretti's face went dark. “Damn you, boy, I said you'd play the fool, and you haven't proved me wrong. I can tell you things. Things you don't know.”

“Like what?” “Like the crazed old man in there. I'll tell you who he is. He's Calabus' father.” Nicoretti grinned. “What do you think of that?”

“I know who he is. What else have you got?”

Nicoretti looked grim. He glanced at Sabatino, who was farther off now, watching Constable Bob attempt to line his troops in a row.

“All right, pay attention, boy,” Nicoretti said with a sigh. “You know I'm Sabatino's uncle. The reason I am is because my sister, Ingretta, married Calabus. She was Sabatino's mother, rest her soul.”

“I guessed she wasn't alive, whoever she turned out to be.”

Nicoretti hesitated. “No, she is not. My sister and I came to Makasar when we were young, after our parents died. We were raised by a very distant aunt. Ingretta and I were both Calabus' friends at the time, possibly the only friends he had, for the old man would seldom let him out of his sight.

“His father had come to this country years before after he'd amassed a great wealth somewhere. Often, when he was away on some venture, Calabus would let us in the house. It was, even then, a frightening place to be.

“Later, when Calabus and Ingretta announced they would wed, his father went into a rage and forbade him to see her again. The two were much in love, though, and they ran off together anyway.

“All of us paid the price for that. When the couple returned, the old man took them in. But not from the goodness of his heart. He told my sister she could never leave the house, that she would never see me, her brother, again.”

Nicoretti hesitated. “That was his punishment for disobedience. He was, even then, a crazed and bitter old man. No matter how either of us pleaded, Ingretta and I never saw each other after that. Even when she died giving birth to Sabatino, I was not allowed to bid her soul farewell. I was a Hatter, you see, and not of my sister's new ‘faith,’ though the old man never entered his own church in his life.

“Calabus, I regret to say, was ever weak at heart. His father's hatred, his terrible will, set Calabus against me in the end. And thus it remains today.”