Christopher Moore - Practical Demonkeeping

A hundred miles south, at Vandenberg Air Force Base, a radar technician reported a UFO entering restricted air space from over the Pacific. When the aircraft refused to respond to radio warning, four jet fighters were scrambled to intercept. Three of the fighter pilots would report no visual contact. The fourth, upon landing, would be given a urinalysis and confined to quarters until he could be debriefed by an officer from the Air Force Department of Stress Management.

The bogey would be officially explained as radar interference caused by unusually high swell conditions offshore.

Of the thirty-six reports, filed in triplicate with various departments of the military complex, not one would mention an enormous white owl with an eighty-foot wingspan.

However, after some consideration, the Pentagon would award seventeen million dollars to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology for a secret study on the feasibility of an owl-shaped aircraft. After two years of computer simulations and wind-tunnel prototype tests, the research team would conclude that an owl-shaped aircraft would, indeed, be an effective weapon, but only if the enemy should ever mobilize a corps of field-mouse-shaped tanks.

Augustus Brine realized that he was going to die. In that same moment he realized that he was not afraid and that it did not matter. The monster clawing to get at him didn’t matter. The chipmunk chatter of his voice playing back double-speed on the recorder didn’t matter. The shouting of Robert, and now Travis, outside the truck didn’t matter. He was acutely aware of it all, he was part of it all, but it did not matter. Even the gunfire didn’t matter. He accepted it and let it go.

Rivera came to when Brine had started the truck. Mavis Sand was standing over the policeman with his revolver, but she and Howard were watching what was going on up the hill. Rivera glanced up the hill to see Catch materializing in his eating form, holding Effrom by the throat.

“Santa Maria! What the hell is that?”

Mavis trained the gun on him. “Stay right there.”

Ignoring her, Rivera stood and ran down the road toward his patrol car. At his car he popped the trunk lid and pulled the riot gun out of its bracket. As he ran back past Howard’s Jag, he paused, then opened the back door and grabbed Robert’s hunting rifle.

By the time he was again in view of the hill, the truck was upside down and the monster was clawing at the door. He threw the riot gun to the ground and shouldered the rifle. He braced the barrel against a tree, threw the bolt to jack a shell into the chamber, sighted through the scope, and brought the cross-hairs down on the monster’s face. Resisting the urge to scream, he squeezed the trigger.

The round hit the demon in his open mouth and knocked him back a foot. Rivera quickly jacked another shell into the chamber and fired. Then another. When the firing pin clicked on an empty chamber, the monster had been knocked back from the truck a few feet but was still coming.

“Santa fucking Maria,” Rivera said.

Gian Hen Gian had reached the top of the hill where Travis knelt by Amanda and Jenny.

“It is done,” the Djinn said.

“Then do something!” Travis said. “Help Gus.”

“Without his orders I may carry out only the command of my last master.” Gian Hen Gian pointed to the sky. Travis looked up to see something white coming out of the clouds, but it was too far away to make out what it was.

Catch recovered from the rifle slugs and went forward. He hooked his huge hand behind the reinforcement beam of the truck’s door, ripped it off, and threw it behind him. Inside the truck, still hanging from the seat belt, Augustus Brine turned calmly and looked at the demon. Catch drew back his hand to deliver a blow that would rip Brine’s head from his shoulders.

Brine smiled at him. The demon paused.

“What are you, some kind of wacko?” Catch said.

Brine didn’t have time to answer. The reverberation of the owl’s screech shattered the windshield of the truck. Catch looked up as the talons locked around his body, and he was swept into the air flailing at the owl’s legs.

The owl climbed into the sky so rapidly that in seconds it was nothing more than a tiny silhouette against the sun, which was making its way toward the horizon.

Augustus Brine continued to smile as Travis released the seat belt. He hit the roof of the truck with his injured shoulder and passed out.

When Brine regained consciousness, they were all standing over him. Jenny was holding Amanda’s head to her shoulder. The old woman was sobbing.

Brine looked from face to face. Someone was missing.

Robert spoke first. “Tell Gian Hen Gian to heal your shoulder, Gus. He can’t do it until you tell him. While you’re at it, tell him to fix my arm.”

“Do it,” Brine said. As he said it, the pain was gone from his shoulder. He sat up.

“Where’s Effrom?”

“He didn’t make it, Gus,” Robert said. “His heart gave out when the demon threw him.”

Brine looked to the Djinn. “Bring him back.”

The Djinn shook his head balefully. “This I cannot do.”

Brine said, “I’m sorry, Amanda.” Then to Gian Hen Gian, “What happened to Catch?”

“He is on his way to Jerusalem.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I have lied to you, Augustus Brine. I am sorry. I was bound to the last command of my last master. Solomon bade me take the demon back to Jerusalem and chain him to a rock outside the great temple.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I thought you would never give me my power if you knew. I am a coward.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It is as Catch said. When the angels came to drive my people into the netherworld, I would not let them fight. There was no battle as I told you. We went like sheep to the slaughter.”

“Gian Hen Gian, you are not a coward. You are a creator — you told me that yourself. It’s not in your nature to destroy, to make war.”

“But I did. So I have tried to vindicate myself by stopping Catch. I wanted to do for the humans what I did not do for my own people.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Brine said. “It’s finished.”

“No, it’s not,” Travis said. “You can’t chain Catch to a rock in the middle of Jerusalem. You have to send him back. You have to read the last invocation. Howard translated it while we were waiting for you to wake up.”

“But Travis, you don’t know what will happen to you. You may die on the spot.”

“I’m still bound to him, Gus. That isn’t living anyway. I want to be free.” Travis handed him the invocation and the candlestick with the Seal of Solomon concealed in it. “If you don’t, I will. It has to be done.”

“All right, I’ll do it,” Brine said.

Travis looked up at Jenny. She looked away. “I’m sorry,” Travis said. Robert went to Jenny’s side and held her. Travis walked down the hill, and when he was out of sight, Augustus Brine began reading the words that would send Catch back to hell.

They found Travis slumped in the backseat of Howard’s Jaguar. Augustus Brine was the first to reach the car.

“I did it, Travis. Are you all right?”

As Travis looked up, Brine had to fight the urge to recoil. The demonkeeper’s face was deeply furrowed and shot with broken veins. His dark hair and brows had turned white. But for his eyes, which were still young with intensity, Brine would not have recognized him. Travis smiled. There were still a couple of teeth left in front.

His voice was still young. “It didn’t hurt. I expected one of those wrenching Lon Chaney transformations, but it didn’t happen. Suddenly I was old. That was it.”