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Chapter Seventeen
Shortly after dawn, after a breakfast
of crumb cake, coffee, and tea, Elijah Gray and Mortimer Hildebrand followed
Blaze O’Dare to his station wagon in single file down an ancient walkway
leading to the street. Irma was
still groggy from her nightmarish odyssey on the street. So much had happened to her since
Halloween night in so little time.
As she peeked out from Elijah Gray’s jacket at this world of shadows and
giants, she was reminded of the times she had carried her own cat inside her
coat when he was a kitten. Muffin
had been her favorite cat; she sorely missed him now.
With lingering trepidation, the preacher scooted
into the front seat of Blaze’s station wagon, his arm protecting the cargo in
his coat, while the priest climbed into the middle seat of the car. Where the third seat had been there was
a pile of evil smelling and inexplicable junk. The floor was cluttered with all manner of trash, including
candy wrappers and crushed cans. A
talisman of twisted hemp and Rosemary hung from the rearview mirror. The dreadful odors pervading the
vehicle were expected by Mortimer, but made Elijah slightly ill. Irma peeked out once and wrinkled her
little pink nose. Her human
dislike of foul odors had actually been sharpened by a feline’s sense of
smell. Many of these terrible
odors had also permeated India’s apartment: rare as well as common
pharmacopoeia for various witches’ spells.
For a moment, as Blaze started up his engine, he
checked the Google map Mortimer printed out for him that lead to Shadowbrook
Arms. According to the sorcerer,
it would take only twenty minutes to reach their destination. Factored into his calculations was, of
course, the stop he would make at the next corner to get gas. During this period, in which the Blaze
went through a stop sign and, at one point, almost veered off the road, as he
checked the map, Elijah and Mortimer exchanged worried looks. Twenty minutes with Blaze behind the
wheel was too long!
As he stood pumping his gas, yawning expansively
and, with his free hand, vigorously scratching his bearded chin, he looked
quizzically into the distance with one eye half shut. He had, the others suspected, not slept well last
night. The magical cat had caused
his normally overactive imagination to soar. Their imminent encounter with the very woman who had
bewitched Irma Fresco had galvanized his purpose in life. The Spell Reversal Team, as Blaze
dubbed them, was, indeed, the high point in all their lives and probably the
greatest challenge even in the priest’s long career. But for Elijah Gray, the preacher, it was a sober occasion
that also challenged his faith. He
was out of place in this evil smelling car and felt ill-suited to be a member
of this team. As the station wagon
pulled away from the service station, he had the irrational urge to bolt out of
the vehicle, while it was still moving slowly, and run away with the cat. That would, he realized, seal her fate
but it might save his immortal soul.
For a few moments, as he listened to the purring
feline, he had to remind himself why he was here: Irma Fresco, a bewitched
young woman; she was why he
was here. He was forsaking
everything to save one small, black cat.
She had captured his heart, fired his imagination, and defied everything
he believed in now. To calm
himself, the preacher continued to stroke the sleeping cat.
“You’re the reason,” he whispered into his coat,
“I’m in this evil-smelling car!”
Filled with déjà vu, Irma licked his rough hand just
at Muffin had once done to her long, long ago.
******
In the background the priest was explaining the
fallacies of witchcraft in the Middle Ages. In Elijah’s current mood, the sound of his gravelly,
quavering voice was like finger nails raking on a blackboard. Far worse, however, was the inattentive
attitude of the driver as he continued looking over his seat.
“Pay attention to the road!” Mortimer scolded him
finally, as they approached a light.
As Elijah sat in the front seat next to the sorcerer
listening to Hildebrand carry on, however, his fears gradually lessened. With Mortimer’s prodding, Blaze was
forced to pay more attention to the road.
Irma, due to Elijah’s caresses, fell into a sound, almost dreamless
sleep. The preacher found this all
quite boring, himself, and, in spite of the annoying subject matter, also fell
asleep, but the sorcerer was fascinated with Mortimer’s knowledge. He had never known an unrepentant
heretic priest as unconventional as this man. Occasionally, the priest would stop in his narrative to
scold the driver and keep him focused on the road.
“All
this time down through the ages,” he droned pedagogically, “men and women, who
were not witches at all but divinely endowed mortals with God sent powers, have
been persecuted by Roman Catholic, Greek Orthodox, and Protestant Christians
along with occultists, when in fact only the witches and sorcerers had cast
evil spells and done great mischief in the world.” “You’re driving too fast;” he interrupted himself, “slow
down!”
“Unfortunately,”
he continued warily, “those unorthodox individuals professing to be healers and
diviners as well as spell-changers were often persecuted for their
non-canonical practices and heretical interpretation of Christianity along with
the devil-worshippers who had done only evil in their careers.” “Now you’re
going too slow!” he cried.
“…
The only legitimate and sanctified way to use spirit agents is through Christ
as the source,” concluded Mortimer. “The other source for black magic is, of course,
Lucifer, a fallen angel…. Now that’s better, sorcerer. Look straight ahead, not at me, pay
attention to the highway, and maintain a legal speed limit as you drive!”
Unruffled
by the priest’s criticism, Blaze peered out of his windshield with great
inspiration at the busy morning road.
******
The
re-definition of white magic by Mortimer Hildebrand, an ex-priest, was an
illumination to the sorcerer. The
conflict between his preoccupation with the occult and his own discarded Roman
Catholic faith now seemed to be resolved.
During Mortimer’s lofty summary, Elijah had dreamed briefly that he was
back in time with his wife and child.
They were picnicking in the park.
Karen was singing an off key tune.
Nancy was frolicking nearby with a big, multicolored ball. Filtering into his bittersweet dream on
the threshold of twilight sleep, however, were the last words of Mortimer’s
discourse on witchcraft: black magic… Lucifer… fallen angel. Yet what amazed Elijah the most, as he
awakened from his catnap, was Blaze’s rapt expression and tone.
“Hallelujah! Amen!” The sorcerer exclaimed.
“Did
I miss something?” he asked groggily, looking around the car. “… I heard the word
Lucifer and amen in almost the same
breath.”
“I
think your friend is having a spiritual reawakening,” the priest noted with
mirth.
Blaze’s
admiration for this man came as no surprise to Elijah. Mortimer Hildebrand was equivalent to
the Pope in the sorcerer’s eyes.
For Elijah to accept Hildebrand’s powers, however, required a complete
reinterpretation of his own hard-won faith. The implications of a defrocked priest, who could use God to
perform what appeared to be, despite the priests explanations, black magic,
were enormous. There was,
according to Mortimer Hildebrand, celestial magic and infernal magic—both of
which were being done through good and evil agents, respectively, quite apart
from the spirit of the Lord. Given
what he heard in his twilight sleep, Blaze’s comprehension of this blasphemy as
a spiritual awakening was too much for Elijah’s fundamentalist mind.
Suddenly,
the preacher, who had slept for only a few moments, found himself joining the
discussion in progress, the sorcerer’s exclamations triggering his response.
“For
all your naivety, Blaze, do you really believe your soul is being uplifted by
this man? He thinks you’re a
heretic and I’m a spiritual bumpkin.
He can barely mask his contempt for either one of us now!”
“It’s
not my soul, it’s my spirit that is uplifted,” Blaze grew defensive, looking
back at the priest for support, “but you wouldn’t understand preacher, would
you? You think they’re both the
same!”
“They
are the same,” Mortimer frowned at
the back of Blaze’s head. “The preacher knows the difference. I
know the difference!” “Now look
straight ahead,” he demanded again, thumping the seat, “and pay attention to
the road!”
“You
see! You see!” Elijah exclaimed, slapping his thigh. “Contempt! He knows it, and I know it. You can’t help yourself, sorcerer. Heresy is as natural to you as
breathing air.” “And you,” he looked back suddenly at the priest, “have so
corrupted the definition of grace that you would put Lucifer alongside of God!”
“What?…
What’s that you say?” the priest sputtered with indignation now. “I have corrupted nothing. You’re just too pig-headed and
self-righteous to understand!”
“What’s
going on out there?” Irma peeked out of the coat.
“Gentlemen!
Gentlemen!” Blaze cried, clutching the steering wheel in dismay. “We’re on the
same side! Please remember our
purpose. India Crowley’s the
enemy, not each other. Let’s focus
on her!”
“Very
well, sorcerer, calm down,” Elijah replied, as the car began to weave, “do as
the priest says. Pay attention to the road!”
In
a hoarse voice, as Blaze settled down at the wheel, Elijah apologized for being
rude. With controlled venom this
time, however, he asked the priest, “Just who’s suppose to be responsible for
the miracles asked for by supplicants through prayer? Is it God Almighty or some magical formula uttered by a
defrocked priest? Explain to me
how an all-powerful God can allow innocent men and women to be transformed into
beasts simply by the casting of spells?”
“Whoa
preacher, slow down a moment, this at the heart of the matter, but let me
continue,” insisted the priest, as the station wagon came to a stop.
Calmly
now, Mortimer explained to them the apparent conflict between magic and God’s
grace. Blaze took the opportunity
at the red light to inspect his own crudely drawn directions he copied out of
the Thomas Guide, comparing it with the map provided by the priest.
“I’m
glad you printed this out,” he muttered distractedly, “I can scarcely read my
scrawls. Unfortunately, the letters on the printout are too small. You should’ve blown this up a
bit…”
As
Mortimer lectured the preacher, Blaze held the map up to his squinting eyes,
until he was satisfied he had read it correctly.
“... Innocent folk have been food for the devil for
thousands of years, but Satan could not own the God-fearer’s souls. Ritualistic spells and incantations
were merely outward signs of inward grace and meant nothing without faith in
the Holy Trinity, which included the Holy Ghost, who worked as the prime-mover
when the spirit world was invoked.”
Blaze
continued to marvel at the ambiguities of the priest. Although he found it stimulating himself, he couldn’t blame
the narrow-minded preacher for having serious problems with Mortimer’s
theology. In Elijah’s thinking Hildebrand’s
explanation of spirit-helpers was both confusing and unsatisfactory, for by
definition the Holy Ghost was the
chief spirit on earth. The Holy
Ghost didn’t require intermediaries, whether they be called saints, angels, or
ghosts, and, for that matter, priests! Elijah also didn’t believe in the demon
possession inherent in the priest’s claim, a theory the sorcerer was skeptical
of himself. Elijah had seen too
many men, as raving drunks, who were simply burnt out on cheap wine. As a street person, himself, who had
seen so much of the real world, the preacher believed only in the power of
prayer as the agent to change one’s lives. Now, the poor fellow was in an automobile with a sorcerer,
heretic priest, and a woman who had been turned into a cat. They were all, at this very moment,
Blaze reflected as he scanned the road ahead, heading toward a confrontation
with a witch who had marshaled the forces of Lucifer onto her side.
******
Blaze
O’Dare, who had play-acted as a sorcerer for so long, was now being challenged
today with the real thing. It was,
he knew with certainty, no longer a game.
There really were dark forces out there that could be harnessed, but the
price, he had always thought, was one’s immortal soul. Mortimer Hildebrand’s presence now
seemed to change all that. When he
pulled his automobile up to the curb in front of Shadowbrook Arms, the three
men climbed shakily out of the station wagon. The preacher, sorcerer and, if truth be told, even the
stony-faced priest were filled with dread. Irma, who had been awakened constantly by the quarreling
men, clung to the inner lying of the preacher’s jacket, her little snout poking
out of his coat, reminiscent of a joey looking out its mother’s pouch. Elijah Gray, having confronted unknown
terrors on skid row and countless encounters with deranged men, was now being
challenged with the very source of evil.
Both he and the sorcerer were at the mercy of a priest who was going to
do spiritual battle with a witch.
“All
right, Mortimer Hildebrand,” Blaze was the first to break the silence, “what
now?”
“I
shall say a prayer,” Elijah said, caressing the cat. “We’ll all recite the
Lord’s Prayer.”
“I
don’t want any part of this!” Irma’s thoughts screamed, her claws digging more
deeply into the underlining of his coat.
“Fear
not!” Hildebrand replied, bolting ahead of the others. “We have the woman’s
name and her apartment number. She
can’t harm you in my presence. You
folks stay behind me. I have the
gift of spell-changing, and she’ll recognize it as soon as I recite the proper
invocation while holding up my cross.”
“We
must hurry! We must hurry!” Blaze, who felt he should say something, blurted
excitedly.
“Our
Father who art in heaven, hollowed by thy name,” Elijah began reciting, while
stroking the cat, “Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done, on earth as it in heaven…”
******
When
they had found India Crowley’s apartment, the priest just stood there in front
of the door after knocking and then ringing the doorbell, praying feverishly to
himself. It comforted the preacher
to hear him pray so hard, but he found it difficult to join in, so he prayed to
himself and noticed, with incredulity, that Blaze O’Dare was praying too. As they waited for India to answer her
door, they heard a voice from the corridor below call out “India Crowley’s not
home.”
“Well,
we tried,” Blaze sighed deeply, turning for acknowledgment from the others.
Elijah,
in spite of his pity for the little cat, was also relieved. The priest looked down at the speaker
and found a small, swarthy-looking lady looking up myopically from the
staircase below. For a moment he
wondered if she too might not be a witch, until he realized that she was a
nurse. She wore the typical white
uniform of the nurse, including cap and nametag and there was a briefcase
clutched in one of her hands.
“Not
home, eh,” Mortimer said lightly, “are you quite certain, my dear?”
“I
saw them take her away,” the nurse snorted, shielding her eyes from the sun.
“W-What?…
W-What did you say?” Hildebrand stammered, walking down several steps in order
to hear her reply.
“Ask
Sam Burns, the apartment manager in 1A,” the nurse shrugged. “He was there last
night. I was working the third
shift at the county hospital when that lady was shot, but I arrived home the
next morning in time to see them put her into the ambulance.”
“You
saw her?” Mortimer seemed to gasp. “Was she awake?… Was she even alive?”
“I
couldn’t tell,” she shook her head wearily. “I saw them put her in an
ambulance, is all. I didn’t get
involved.”
“I
don’t understand.” The priest looked at her in disbelief. “Didn’t the police
ask you any questions? You’re her
neighbor, are you not?”
“Yes,”
the nurse shook her head, “but when I got off of the bus, I walked passed the
complex and came in from the other side.
I pretended I wasn’t home.”
The
priest moved several steps down toward her, causing the woman to shudder at
this darkly clad specter in the morning light. To add to the eeriness in her tired mind was a glimpse of
the sinister sorcerer and the black cat peeking out of Elijah’s coat.
“Please…
answer a few questions for me,” the priest frowned with concern. “…. Firstly,
did anyone identify India Crowley?”
“I
don’t know,” she answered fearfully, “it was none of my business. I never liked the woman. I told you I came in the other side.”
“Then
you saw this from a distance?” He pressed, inching further down.
“Yes,”
the nurse retreated further, “I could see them put her on the stretcher. She was wearing her witch’s costume she
had on Halloween night. All I
could see from my vantage point were policemen and ambulance attendants. Okay?”
“Lived
here for years and no one comes forth,” Mortimer muttered aloud. “…. Are you
folks afraid of India Crowley? I
wouldn’t blame you if you were.”
“Frankly,
I never met her,” the nurse replied, a tinge of impatience joining the alarm in
her voice. “They had a pretty wild party that night. I was going to catch the eleven-thirty bus just about the
time things were getting out of hand.
That’s all I know. I’m very
tired, father. Have a nice day!”
“Wait,
please one more question,” the priest wrung his hands, as she rapidly ascended
the stairs, “… tell me what you saw Halloween night.”
“It
was ridiculous,” she waved back in disgust. “She shouted some kind of hocus
pocus at those hell-raisers. I saw
Wanda, Neva, and Buck and his friends heckling India. I remember hearing Sam and his girl friend Alice give her
what-for.”
By
then, as her voice trailed off into the floor above, a few other tenants had
peeked fearfully out their curtains to see what other horrors lurked outside.
“I
wonder if India had any identification on her,” Mortimer mulled, his chin
dropping to his chest.
“I
bet she didn’t,” Blaze giggled hysterically. “Too bad for India; you know what
that means boys—a bona fide card-carrying witch transported as a Jane Doe!”
“I
know what hospital she’s in,” Elijah offered, as they now searched for
apartment 1A.
“Yes,
yes,” Mortimer nodded impatiently, “we all know where they take Jane
Doe’s. The county hospital is a
dreadful place.” “You know what this means gentlemen?” He heaved a great
sigh.
The
sorcerer nodded unhappily. Elijah,
though filled with misgivings, had relaxed greatly, but a sadness filled him
when he thought about Irma’s fate.
Irma, who purred loudly inside his coat, was now confused by this turn
of events. They now had a dying
witch. What did that mean? Both Blaze and Elijah were afraid to
ask.
******
After
only a few knocks on the manager’s door, they heard the deadbolt lock rattle inside
the apartment and saw the door crack faintly with the chain still fastened in
place.
“My name’s Mortimer Hildebrand,” the
priest introduced himself quickly. “I need to talk to Sam Burns about the woman
who was shot last night. We need
to ask him some questions about her.
It won’t take long.”
“No,
go away,” a woman cried out. “I have enough to deal with right now!”
The
door slammed shut and the deadbolt was again thrown.
“Please
ma’am,” the priest begged her now. “You won’t believe what I have to tell
you. But I have reason to believe
that the witch India Crowley has done great mischief here. I have the power, through God, to undo
her spell.”
Alice
Wagnall had been peeking through the peephole of the door after shutting it but
now ran over to look through a crack in the curtains at the unlikely threesome
by the door. When she saw the head
of the small cat peering out of the preacher’s coat and noted the clerical
collar of the priest, who stood by her door, she decided finally to let them in. As Irma and her three guardians entered
Sam’s apartment, her mind was bombarded with feline outcries. It overwhelmed her at first, until she
was able to match the voices with the cats. Sam, Wanda, Neva, and Drew hailed her, as long-lost
friends. Suddenly, the living room
was filled with mewing, purring, and licking cats. Blaze made the sign to ward off the evil eye, Elijah
whistled under his breath, and the priest made the sign of the cross as they
looked down at the cats scampering around the room.
Brief
introductions followed after which Alice led them to the center of the room and
looked Elijah squarely into his eyes.
Impulsively, with constricted voice, Elijah now held out his charge:
“This is Irma Fresco. We found her
downtown, near skid row. Please
let her stay here with her friends.”
“Oh
these folks were never friends as mortals,” she explained, setting Irma next to
Wanda, who gave her a spontaneous lick. “As cats, some of them, the ones not in
my apartment, were Sam’s enemies here at Shadowbrook Arms, until their leader,
Buck Logan, saved Sam’s life. Sam
communicated this to me on his laptop.
He’s very worried about Buck and his gang now. The group in Sam’s apartment have grown especially close as
felines. I think Wanda, that big
white cat, has a crush on Sam. We
must save them all reverend. I
can’t imagine how dreadful they must all feel, but I know that we have little
time.”
The
priest, who had been listening intently to their conversation, stepped forward
now as the preacher and sorcerer began playing with the cats. As an indication that he was the
leader, he led her into another room out of earshot of the cats.
“We have limited information on India Crowley’s
condition,” his gravelly voice uttered. “How bad off is she now?”
“I
don’t know,” Alice answered, shutting the bedroom door. “Sam, the brown cat,
and Drew, the tan cat you saw in the group, were able to type out information
they gathered from the maintenance and janitorial workers here at the complex. The story goes: ‘India fell from the
second deck, after being shot by someone, and landed on the cement below. The point were she fell was near Penny
Gruber’s apartment.’ We think
Penny was one of the tenants turned into a cat. Tanya, who lived on the second deck, is missing also. I called them both and there was no
answer. Like the other tenants not
accounted for here, I’m afraid they might be out there somewhere, alone and
frightened too.”
The
priest’s face had fallen with this news.
After hearing she had been shot, he had considered the possibility that
India might be unconscious. Now,
with the confirmation that she had also landed on hard cement, he prepared
himself for the worst: India Crowley might soon be dead.
By now, Elijah, who had been eavesdropping,
officially entered the room. A few
seconds later Blaze entered, holding a large black cat.
“Can
we still do it?” Blaze asked, scratching Neva’s head. “Don’t these kind’ve
people have to be awake?”
“Yes,…
as far as I know,” Mortimer sighed, the disappointment obvious in his voice,
“but India also landed on concrete.
I’m certain she must be very critical, perhaps near death.”
“Oh
dear,” cried Blaze, as Neva wiggled in his arms, “that’s something we must find
out!”
“What
if she’s unconscious?” asked Elijah, as the other cats began streaming through
the door.
“I
don’t know. It depends. But we have to act quickly!” Mortimer
answered dubiously, looking around at the cats.
With
Sam’s group and Irma listening intently below, the humans now openly discussed
going to the hospital. Alice
insisted, against the priest’s wishes that she go along too. Sam was, after all, her fiancé. Was this not something that affected
her life too? Mortimer, however,
felt that she should stay with her new charges. They would need her protection now. Elijah and Blaze agreed, but Alice was
adamant. About everything, Sam
recalled, Alice was adamant. Sam
beamed with pride up at her as she folded her arms. After listening mutely to the argument, the cats were
confident that Alice would win and turned their attention back to the new
addition to their pack. For the
first time that Irma could remember, she was a popular member of a group. The three men understood, as had Alice,
that the five cats were “talking” to each other now. Although Alice said it gave her the creeps, the men were
amused by the way the five cats nodded and cocked their heads at each
other. The priest took this
opportunity to make an announcement to them in order to allay their fears.
“Listen, I know you can understand me,” he yelled
through cupped hands. “Help is out now.
Do you understand me children?
If you understand, nod your little heads!”
“Why
is he hollering at us?” asked Drew, beckoning Neva to come down.
“He
thinks were hard of hearing,” Neva replied, jumping finally out of Blaze’s
arms.
“But
we’re not children,” Wanda wrinkled her pudgy nose. “He should talk to us as
adults.”
“Cat’s
are always children,” Irma transmitted thoughtfully. “My Muffin never grew up.”
The
entire group of cats bumped their new friend, nudged her playfully, and took
turns licking her head. Unlike
Wanda and Neva, who were beautiful, Irma’s big blue eyes, fox-like ears and,
elfin face made her appear unique and perhaps cute more than pretty in Sam and
Drew’s eyes. Strangely enough, the
petite little black cat “looked” like Irma Fresco, in the same way that Sam,
Drew, and the other females resembled their humans selves. Elijah could see that she was happy
that she was accepted into this group.
Beaming down at them, he whispered, “You’re in good hands Irma. You’ll be safe here with your friends.”
******
Wanda and Neva, who had avoided Irma as humans, now
warmed up quickly to the little black cat, but it was Sam who became her best
friend. Three mysterious
strangers, whom Drew referred to jokingly as the ghoul squad, carried their
fate in their hands. With that
settled, the five cats chattered light-heartedly in each other’s head.
“Well,”
Sam took his turn bumping up against Irma, “we can thank Irma Fresco for
bringing us help!”
“No Sam,” Irma said pertly, “they brought me. I’m just sorry that India zapped
you too.”
“She zapped all
of the young people at Shadowbrook Arms,” he explained grimly, looking over at
the humans. “As you heard, Buck and his entire gang were bewitched. They’re over at his place now. We think Tanya and Penny have been
turned into cats too.”
“Tell
me the truth,” Sam motioned with his head, “do you really think those men can
help?”
“I think so,” she answered hesitantly, “at least
they want to really bad!”
“Tsk-tsk, you were her best friend,” Wanda observed
politely, appearing suddenly by her side. “She turned you into a cat too.”
“Oh yes,” Irma sighed, “Tanya was also her friend,
but India has a new friend now.”
Sam allowed Alice to scoop him up while conversing
with Irma and was jealously watched by Wanda, who hung at Elijah’s legs as Sam
continued to converse with Irma (now held in the preacher’s arms). A sleepy Neva was again cradled in
Blaze’s arms. Drew, after trying
to get Irma’s attention, was picked up by the priest, who stroked the tan cat
gently as he walked back across the room.
Wanda, who was once a prom queen and college
debutante, was the only cat not being carried in a someone’s arms. After seeing her moping in the
background, Sam meowed vigorously until Alice sat him on the floor. Sam then ran over to Wanda, gave her a
lick and then pointed at her with his paw.
“Come on Alice, open your heart,” his golden eyes
seemed to say.
Alice, with reluctance this time, took the cue,
walked over and scooped the big white, fluffy Persian up in her arms. For the first time, in her small, will
defined world, she felt inexplicable warmth for one of her least favorite
creatures: felis catus. She sat
down with the feline version of the woman she hated as a human, repelled at
first, but then, as Wanda curled up in her lap, began stroking the purring cat. Hearing their collective purrs and
weighted down with the gravity of this scene, the sorcerer and preacher also
sank into the easy chair and sofa, respectively, with looks of astonishment in
their eyes. Finally, as the cats
began to squirm, they were set down on the carpet. Irma quickly joined the other cats, rubbing and purring
amongst her newfound friends, happy she was no longer alone.
The argument on whether Alice Wagnall would
accompany them to the hospital now settled, the three men were led back to
Sam’s study, the woman chattering hysterically about everything she had seen so
far. Irma ran freely with the
other cats over the carpet, into the kitchen for a quick meal, and then back
into the living room with the others, exhilarated by these events.
“We’re gonna break this spell,” she transmitted
jubilantly. “You just gotta have faith!”
Blaze, Elijah, and Mortimer listened and watched as
Alice explained what was on the website, which had been brought to her
attention by the cats.
“Humph, a website for witches,” the priest noted
with a shrug. “I’ve got a much larger database myself.”
“But look at this one screen,” Alice persisted,
clicking the mouse.
“It’s a list of spells and incantations,” Blaze
murmured with interest. “I’ve got a list like that myself.”
“I don’t believe it,” Elijah grumbled under his
breath, “a website for witches.
Why am I not surprised?”
“Are there any
applicable ones?” Blaze interest grew, as the priest sat beside Alice in
another chair.
“Well, let’s us take a peek,” the priest sighed
heavily, shaking his head. “… I can’t imagine that any of these are
legitimate…. Ho-ho, how quaint!
Here’s one for removing warts.
….
A love potion for frigid women… aphrodisiacs… and, tsk-tsk, countless
nonsensical things, but nothing remotely close to spell-changing here.”
“I agree, there’s nothing there,” Blaze nodded
thoughtfully, looking over Mortimer’s shoulder. “These are simple potions, not
spells. Abracadabra, hocus-pocus
stuff.”
“Yes, indeed,
most of these entries are standard witches fare,” Mortimer looked up with
irritation at the bad-breathed Blaze after scanning down the list. “These kind
of people make a game of witchcraft and sorcery. I think this entire website is a sham and a disgrace!”
“Well, what do you suggest?” Alice asked bleakly as
Sam looked up at her from the floor. “…. Look at him, my baby,” she said in a
strangled whisper, a tear rolling down her cheek. “We-we were going to be
married after he finished graduate school. I-I was going to have a husband, but now I have a houseful
of cats.” “I don’t even like cats, Mister Hildebrand,” she added, mournfully,
giving Sam’s head a scratch, “that’s what makes this such a joke!”
“Calm down Miss Wagnall,” the priest rose up on
stiff knees, “you must trust us.
You must not loose faith!”
“You’re a practicing warlock,” she erupted into
hysterical sobs, “you’re talking to me
about faith? I’ve been a Christian
all my life. This is almost
impossible for me to accept!”
“Well, I’m also a Christian,” Elijah declared
heavy-heartedly. “You’re just going to have
to, Miss Wagnall. These
cats are running out of time!”
“We believe in Jesus Christ too,” Blaze offered,
reaching down to stroke Wanda’s head.
Alice now confessed in detail her misgivings, as had
Elijah, about turning to magic and the occult to undo an evil deed.
“Where does God fit into this scheme?” she asked
with tearful blue eyes. “Can a witches formula only be undone by a warlock’s
spell?
Silence followed as Mortimer surfed the web. The argument Alice gave was familiar to
Irma by now, but her new friends found the dispute unsettling.
“What’s the matter with that bitch?” Neva asked as
Mortimer once again explained his role, “who cares how they cure us, just so it
gets done.”
“Hey, careful that’s my fiancé!” Sam protested,
bristling at her slur.
“I’m sorry Sam,” Irma came over and bumped his side,
“but Neva’s right. We need all the
help we can get. Elijah, the
preacher there, is praying to God.
Who knows, maybe it’ll work.
But the priest uses both religion and magic; he thinks he can reverse
our spell if he can confront the witch.” “…. Unfortunately,” she paused to
reflect, “India’s had a terrible accident. She might not even be alive!”
“What?
What did you say?” Drew came running over now.
“Does this mean there’s hope?” Wanda grew excited
too.
“Yes, of course, there’s hope,” little Irma said,
raising her paw. “I have faith in those guys. Don’t ask me why.
I like to think it’s all that praying I did when I ran away from the
witch, but I owe a lot to that sorcerer, too, for bringing me here.”
“A sorcerer?” Neva bristled.
“Is Mortimer Hildebrand really a warlock?” Sam
asked, trying very hard to frown.
“No,” Irma answered thoughtfully, “Mortimer is a
defrocked priest, who practices magic.
He’s a wizard, like Merlin once was.”
“Oh gee,” Sam thought sarcastically, “I feel so much
better: a sorcerer and now a wizard, who was once a Catholic priest.”
“What about the preacher?” Drew motioned with his
head, as they looked over at the men, “where does he fit in? He seems out of place here.”
“He’s my special friend—the one who found me,”
explained Irma with a fond glance. “That man used to be a high school teacher
until his wife and daughter were killed by a drunken driver. He spent years on skid row, himself,
before he turned to the Lord.”
“I’m glad he turned to the Lord,” Sam sighed
wistfully. “We need Him now.”
“Now
that doesn’t make sense to me,” Wanda seemed almost self-righteous now, “the
man’s family is snuffed out by a drunk and he becomes one!”
“You’re talking about the capital ‘H’ Him, aren’t
you?” thought Irma, ignoring Wanda’s response.
“Yes,” Sam nodded, “one should not put their faith
merely in men.”
“You mean woman, don’t you?” Drew joined in now.
“Yes, of course, that too. Alice’s a real peach,” Sam sighed, giving them all a nudge,
“but I’m afraid she’s not going to be much help. She doesn’t even like cats.”
“Not even us?”
Neva made a face.
“Well, maybe us,”
Sam transmitted thoughtfully, “… at least me. I mean we are engaged,
aren’t we?”
“I
think Alice has a good heart, Sam,” Irma thought, watching Alice discuss
something with Elijah now. “She was raised that way; my father hated cats
too. She’s confronted with a
fantastic dilemma—the same one that Elijah, the preacher, faced when he
discovered a bewitched cat.”
“I
still find it hard to accept, myself,” Sam admitted to the others, as he
glanced back at the humans.
******
Looking
across the room at the four cats now, Elijah commented to Alice, “It does look
like they’re talking, doesn’t it?”
“They
are,” The priest nodded with
understanding. “I’m certain that they use mental telepathy. Look at the way they carry on. They remind me of deaf mutes. Instead of the Universal Sign Language,
they use their minds.”
“It
all seems impossible.” Alice shook her head, collapsing forlornly into a chair.
“This is all too much to digest.”
“Alice,
sweet Alice,” Blaze gave her a consoling pat, “open our mind if not your
soul. Think of poor Sam’s
reassessment. It was hard for the
preacher too.”
“It
still is,” Elijah confessed, shaking his head.
“Listen
young lady,” Mortimer spoke sternly to her now, “I remember the oft told story
about a narrow-minded old man, who having lived all his life in the back woods,
was taken to a zoo by his worldly son. When he was introduced to a giraffe in its pen, one of the
most humorous of God’s creatures, he shook his head and said to his son ‘no
such creature can exist.’” “That is your proverbial giraffe, my dear.” He pointed
at the cats. “You must accept the fact that a witch has transformed those young
adults into cats!
“…
Now that we’ve agreed to take you along, Miss Wagnall,” he continued severely
after a pause, “you must promise to open your mind as you opened your hearts to
these poor creatures. As your fellow
Protestant fundamentalist, Elijah Gray, has done, you must set aside your own
narrow-minded interpretation of Christianity these coming hours for the greater
good.”
Elijah
bristled at this characterization but had to agree.
“There
now,” Mortimer patted her trembling hand, “is that acceptable to you, my
child? Speak now, before we begin
our journey, or keep your peace.”
“Very
well,” she found herself holding Elijah, her kindred spirit’s, hand, “but I
will be praying for guidance, Mortimer.
Elijah and I will allow no satanic mumbo jumbo in this affair!”
“You’ll
do just fine,” Blaze consoled her, this time patting her back.
But
Alice didn’t like the sorcerer any more than she liked Mortimer Hildebrand, the
priest. After making sure that all
the cats had plenty of water and food and cleaning the kitty litter she had
improvised for them, she picked Sam up and gave him a hug and bid them all
goodbye. When the foursome reached
O’Dare’s station wagon, the priest sat next to the sorcerer in the front seat
this time and Elijah and Alice quietly took their place in back.
******
“So
you found out India’s room number, Miss Wagnall?” Mortimer looked back
pensively now, as the station wagon headed up town.
“Yes,
I told them I was her sister over the phone,” she looked with suspicion into
the priest’s eyes. “Tell me, since you call yourself a priest,… how could our
Lord allow this to happen?”
“I
don’t believe it!” the sorcerer groaned.
“He
didn’t make it happen,” the priest
corrected her gently, as she sat uncomfortably in her seat. “This has been
going on for thousands of years.
It’s obviously strong in this age.
This witch evidently has very great powers!”
“Wait
a minute,” Blaze offered, snapping his fingers. “I remember reading about this
in Ring of Darkness, a book I just
finished. Doesn’t a witch’s power
end when she dies?”
“I’m
not so sure the spell, itself, ends.
Besides,” the priest shook his head, “She’s not quite dead. For my purposes, she’s also not
alive. Ring of Darkness was
written by a historian compiling information on the occult. He wasn’t a sorcerer or a priest. You can’t use this as a source.”
“Are
you saying it’s hopeless then?” Elijah murmured dreamily after reflecting on
his wife and child. “What about
the powers of prayer?”
“The
power of prayer is still strong,” the priest looked back over his seat to
explain. “You more than anyone else here, because of your ministry in skid row,
know how powerful prayer can be.
God will find away for us whether or not she is unconscious or awake….
Perhaps even when she’s dead!”
But
the misgivings on the priest’s stony face and Alice’s blue eyes were all too
evident as they embarked upon their mission. Mortimer didn’t look as confident as when they first set off
for Shadowbrook Arms. Blaze, who
sat next to the priest, sensed this more than the others. He managed, in spite of their anxiety,
to show concern for their feelings and yet smiled and hummed happily to himself
as he considered the adventure ahead.