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Chapter Eighteen
The First
Attempt
Alice, who knew exactly where the county hospital
was located, directed them quickly to their destination. The two years she had spent in real
estate had given her a working knowledge of the city and its suburbs. On the way to the hospital, the group
discussed what they would do to make sure the nurses and doctors allowed them
to visit India's room. It ran
counter to Elijah’s and her Christian beliefs, but Alice would claim to be
India's sister and Elijah would try to convince them he was her older brother. The priest, who would claim to be her
parish priest, would simply be on hand to give her the Last Rites, and Blaze
O'Dare, who had stretched the truth more times than he like to admit, would be
her favorite uncle. Alice would
approach the receptionist first.
If worse came to worse, they would have to somehow sneak into India's
room to perform Hildebrand's rite.
******
Upon
reaching the county hospital, the foursome self-consciously entered the waiting
room. It was crowded on this
Monday morning. Whole families
were assembled in the room and every type of visitor imaginable, including a
few derelicts who had come in to sleep in the lobby chairs. When the receptionist finally laid eyes
on them, she assumed they were separately in line and, although she accepted
the possibility that Alice was India's sister and that Mortimer Hildebrand was
India's parish priest, she found Alice’s alleged relationship to the seamy
looking Blaze O'Dare and Elijah Gray hard to believe. “Please ma'am,” Blaze
implored her, “my nephew and I haven't seen poor India for years. We want to give her a proper goodbye.” Incredulity
was written all over the receptionist’s dark brown face as she considered this
ill-matched group. Alice, who
still wore her fashionable blue business suit, did not fit in with this
bunch. As the receptionist frowned
with disapproval at the medallion on Blaze’s lapel, Mortimer pushed past the
sorcerer and glared with displeasure down at her. “Come-come, young
lady,” he snorted, impatiently drumming the counter and tapping his foot,
“where is your intensive care ward located? You're threatening her immortal soul!” “According
to my information, India Crowley is comatose,” she explained flatly with a
deadpan expression. “You will have to wait in the Emergency Waiting Room until
the receptionist there or doctor in charge gives you a green light.” “All right, we'll take our chances,”
Alice said as sweetly as possible without losing control. “Can we go to that
waiting room now? Father
Hildebrand must give her the Last Rights.” A
snarl playing on her lips, the receptionist pointed briskly to her left. “It’s
located down that hall. Only the
immediate family are allowed in!”
******
The
priest and sorcerer were merely irritated by the woman’s attitude. Alice was, in fact, humiliated at being
in this group, while Elijah was sickened by the subterfuge, his freckly face
blushing from the embarrassment he felt. “What
if they interrupt your exorcism?” he inquired anxiously, lagging behind the
others as they followed Alice down the hall. “I've
explained that this is much more than an exorcism,” Heldbrand replied in a
hushed tone. “. . . . It's critical that everyone except the clerics stay out
during the first phase of the rite.” “You
mean the preacher gets to go and I don't?” Blaze asked in a hurt tone. “I'm a devout Christian like
yourselves,” Alice also protested. “I've been the one protecting those cats!” “Yes,
yes, Alice, if you were an ordained minister, like him, I would let you in,”
the priest explained irritably, pointing to the preacher. “Explain to her
Elijah how dangerous this rite is.” Elijah
nodded gravely, the thought of sharing this blasphemous rite with Mortimer
Hildebrand filling him with dread. “I'm
not afraid,” Alice persisted. “I want to add my prayer to the rite. You’ll need all the prayers you can
get!” “I'm not afraid either!”
Blaze protested, his face puffed up with rage. “You--a defrocked priest--have no right to prevent anyone from going into India's
room! How dare you deprive us of
this event!” “Yes,
he’s right,” agreed Alice, folding her pale arms, “you've been excommunicated
from your church. What gives you
sole right to perform this rite on India Crowley? Do you really think you’re more qualified to talk to the
Lord?” “Please, ” Elijah
regained his voice, “let's not quarrel about whose going to help. We're not even in there yet. Believe me, Miss Wagnall, I don’t
relish going in their myself. I
personally believe that it’s strictly a matter of prayer. I don't know what you have up your
sleeve Hildebrand, but, like it or not, I'll be there behind you with my own petition!” “All right,” the priest
replied, folding his arms, “but Blaze O’Dare, the sorcerer, is not going
in! He would profane the
rite and defeat anything I might accomplish in there. I may seem like a heretic to you Miss Wagnall, but I assure
you the Lord does not see it that way.
Mister O'Dare on the other hand has made a career of his blasphemous
rites and could only bring down disaster on us if India comes to.” “You've
not liked me since you laid eyes on me,” Blaze said in a wounded tone. “It was
I who looked you up in the first place and gave you this opportunity. Why are you so pig-headed? Why can't you let me help?” “Shut up all of you!” Elijah took control again.
“This personality contest between sorcerer and defrocked priest is not helping
the matter at all. Blaze can go in
with Alice at first. We have to
pretend like we're visiting her, don't we? It's only when you get into the rite that we might
have to clear the room.” Hildebrand
grumbled querulously at them: “Blaze and the witch are on the same side. I don’t think he should be in her room at all!” “If she's dying as I suspect,” Alice said to
Elijah from the corner of her mouth as they approached the reception desk,
“they should let her entire family
in.” Looking
over the receptionist counter and down at the smallest woman she had ever seen,
Alice did a double-take, then, quickly getting into character, gave her spiel
rapidly with heartfelt crocodilian tears and even less convincing sobs. The small furtive eyes of the midget
receptionist could only see what was directly in front her or on the brim of
the counter. She did not see the
men at all. The three men held
their collective breaths at this amateurish attempt and were amazed when Alice
motioned for them to follow her through the double doors and down the corridor
to India's room. “It's
room 1B,” she explained, scanning the door numbers, her fist rising
hysterically to her mouth. “I've never been more frightened in my life. What if she awakens before you do your
thing? Will we be turned into cats
or something worse?” “Please,”
Hildebrand said, looking past Elijah to Blaze O'Dare, “take her back to the
waiting room. It won't be safe in
there!” “I
want to see her,” Blaze set his jaw. “I truly believe that I can help. Alice Wagnall's prayers should be able
to help too. When you make contact
with the unconscious woman's demon and things appear to be getting out of hand,
I'll escort Miss Wagnall out of the room.
Okay?” “All
right. . . . but I think this a bad idea,” the priest sighed, slowly opening
the door to Room 1B. “Just
don't start with any devil-worshipping mumbo jumbo,” Elijah growled under his
breath. “. . . . Try to remember when you were a God-fearer and prayed only to
the Lord. Don't you dare invoke
one of your occult spooks!” It
was a stinging rebuke to the overbearing priest, but Mortimer was much too
frightened right now to care.
******
As
they surrounded the inert body of India Crowley, they were shaken by the tubes
laced in and out of her nose and mouth.
The sound of a heart lung machine and the continual rise and fall of
readouts from monitors on each side of her bed offered no encouragement to them
now. And yet Hildebrand, after craning
an ear and watching India and her monitor readouts for several moments, felt
reassured. “We're not too late,” he said,
releasing a long, wheezing sigh. “She lives and her mind is still strong.” “Oh really? And how does he know that? She doesn't look very lively to me?” he heard Elijah mutter
sarcastically to himself. Looking
down at the life-support system attached to her vegetative frame, both Blaze
and Alice found themselves agreeing with the preacher. “Oh dear!
Oh my goodness!” Alice shook her blond head. “Come now, old boy,” Blaze said, eyeing the
heart and lung machine. “How can you reach anyone in that condition? She's brain dead. Spirits don't inhabit corpses or brain
dead people like her.” “It’s
no use. It’s hopeless. Sam, my darling, will forever remain
cats,” Alice concluded, her quivering little chin dropping to his chest. “Nonsense! She's not brain dead,” Hildebrand said,
pointing to the monitors. “In that one there the readout clearly shows her
alpha wave lengths peaking.
There's activity in her brain!” “Oh
yeah, what about that other readout?” Elijah asked, pointing to the monitor on
the other side of the bed. “That looks pretty flat to me.” “That's
the heart monitor.” Hildebrand pshawed, waving his hand. “That's why she's on
this machine. We gotta get this
over with before she flat lines completely. At that point, when the spirit is free and on its own, it'll
be too late. We must hurry!” “All
right now,” the priest said, placing his hands together to signify worship,
“you've all seen her. I must
pray. You three stand in the
background and pray silently; let's keep the field free and let India's spirit
hear one voice.” “What
if you need help?” Elijah asked, following the others to the farthest corner of
the room. “Will
the spirit become visible?” Blaze's voice was a mixture of excitement and fear. “If
things get out of hand,” Hildebrand replied sternly, “you must get out of the
room at once. You can't protect me
at that point; the Lord will be my shield and truth will be my sword!” “In Matthew, Mark
and Luke Christ casts out demons,” Alice said almost to herself. “Nowhere in
the Bible have I ever read about spells being reversed or humans being
transformed into cats.” “Back! All of you!” the priest exhorted them
now. Turning
to India's bed, he looked down at the stricken woman and prayed silently at
first. It was a prayer to gather
strength: “Lord make me strong, but let my heart be humble to your call.” But the words that followed shook the
others as they tumbled from this wizened little man. “Jesus Christ, God and Savior, please enter this woman's heart
when the spirit of evil leaves her wretched soul. India Crowley, if you but awaken to my summons, you can
dismiss this foul fiend yourself.
You have great power. But
you're master cannot protect you against death. Awaken daughter of darkness, so that you may see the light!” He did not dare
tell his associates how basic the plan accompanying the exorcism would be; they
might loose confidence in his abilities entirely. For a dying witch, the priest must, in addition to casting a
counter-spell, attempt to save her immortal soul. This had been the procedure for wizard priests as far back
as the Middle Ages. But this witch
had a demon that had created great mischief on her behalf. Few clerics had ever undertaken the
dual tasks of exorcism and spell-reversal at the same time. Moreover, unlike most other victims of
demon possession, India had apparently, through black magic, invited the evil
spirit into her soul. This was a powerful
spirit, using her twisted ambition for his own end. But just as the witch could invite the spirit in she could
dismiss him. The priest could not
exorcise the demon until the witch, herself, had a change of heart. The counter-spell he had selected,
based upon an age-old formula, was intended for a conscious witch, who could be
brought to repentance for her sins.
India was not only unconscious and unable to repent but she might very
will die before she regained consciousness at all. Hildebrand
was hoping that, in the event he could awaken the comatose witch, her fear of
damnation would make her cooperate, so that she, herself, would dismiss her
demon and cancel the spell. At
this point, as he followed up his exhortation with prayer, there was a movement
that was visible only to the priest, himself, as he looked down into India's
face. India's eyelashes fluttered
faintly and the small finger on her left hand twitched ever so slightly as she
seemed to struggle back to the light.
A war, Hildebrand could imagine, between God and Satan was at that
moment being waged in India's unconscious mind. If only he could talk to the previous, unpossessed India, he
might find out more about the spell.
Surely she would fear for her immortal soul. “What's he doing now?” Elijah whispered into Blaze’s ear. “I dunno. I've never seen a spell reversal
before, only read about them,” answered Blaze, doubt growing in his mind. Alice was praying feverishly
now on her knees as the priest again shouted into India's face: “Awaken child
of perdition. The demon will
gladly escape from your dying body now.
You are no good to him anymore.
Come forth as I offer you the Last Rites or forever burn in the fires of
hell!” India's eyelids opened slowly. With the tube down her throat, she
could only make a croaking sound as she tried to speak. She seemed to be filled with great
misgivings for her predicament.
She knew she was dying and she had heard the priest’s prayer. (At least this is what they all wanted
to believe.) “Praise
the Lord!” Alice wrung her hands. “She's
awake! I heard her make a sound!”
Blaze lurched toward India's bed. “Here,
give her this pad and pencil if she can't talk,” Elijah said, handing the
priest the stationary he found lying on the end table near her bed. The
priest stood there in momentary shock as if he could not believe his own
powers. “Blink your eyes three times if
you wish to receive the Last Rites and fear for your immortal soul.” In what
looked to the group like voluntary eyelid flutters, India signaled to the
priest. Mortimer fell to his knees
as did Alice again, while Elijah staggered back to the window in
disbelief. Blaze, ignoring his
rabbit foot, now pulled out his crucifix and kissed it tenderly as if it was a
living thing. The priest wasted no
time in giving her the Last Rites in the hopes that it would prove to be a
buffer against the internal battle she would have to fight to rid herself of
her demon and thereby cancel the evil spell. “This
is so bizarre!” exclaimed Alice, withdrawing back into the room. “A defrocked
Catholic priest is giving the Last Rites in the presence of a sorcerer and
Protestant preacher. What would
Sam say now?” Elijah
shushed her gently and said under his breath “Sam is a cat, my dear. The Lord must hear this heretic's prayer.”
qui
nos praecesserunt cum signo fidei, et dormiunt in somno pacis.
Ipsis, Domine, et omnibus in Christo quiescentibus, locum
Christum
Dominum nostrum.
During
the Last Rites, India Crowley's body remained motionless except the slightest
movement of her eyelids and little finger of her left hand. There was no demonic agitation or
terrible sounds, which was evidently due to her condition. Clearly India was dying, and her demon
had greatly diminished powers. At
least this is what Hildebrand thought as he called upon the demon to come out,
the very act of which he hoped would reverse the spell. “In the
name of Jesus Christ, the Savior, God incarnate, the Holy Ghost, I demand that
you depart this woman, Indian Crowley, who has asked forgiveness of Christ to
die in grace with the Holy Catholic Church!” And
then India's inert body was suddenly animated. It began to twitch terribly as if a palsy now afflicted
it. Her eyes opened wide and her
pupils rolled around crazily in their sockets. A low howl deep in her throat rose to a terrible pitch “ooooooooO!” “Uh
oh!” Blaze said with a gasp. “She didn’t
blink at you,” Elijah observed, “she’s having a convulsion!” “Get
out of here--all of you!” the priest cried. “Anyone in this room when the demon
is exorcised risks becoming his next abode. You Blaze are especially susceptible. You'd be a perfect base for mischief of
his kind!” “But I want
to help,” Blaze protested weakly, following Alice Wagnall quickly out of the
room. A sigh of relief
escaped the sorcerer’s lips as he
contemplated what the sorcerer had said. “You too!” the priest
pointed to Elijah. “You're not immune to him either!” “But what about you?” the preacher asked, looking
with horror at India's twitching body. “He
cannot enter my soul,” the priest explained, pushing him out the door. “He’ll
try to physically kill me, but I’m not afraid. You, on other hand, must not afford him another home when he
finally leaves. If my prayers are
strong enough, he will leave this place quickly and, unless I'm mistaken, begin
looking for another host in the first victim on hand.” “I'm not leaving you,” Elijah's jaw
was suddenly set. “If anything happens to you, who will finish the
exorcism? We can't take the
chance.” “You
cannot finish an exorcism, my dear fellow.” the priest shook his head. “You're
not qualified to do such a thing.” “Why,”
Elijah frowned, “because I'm not a Catholic.” “No,
that has nothing to do with it,” the priest explained, looking back nervously
at the woman. “You may not approve of what I'm doing.” “Oh,” Elijah frowned, “and
what is that?” “There's no time for this!” the priest cried.
“Please exit at once!” “Do
you, in fact, know what you're doing?” Elijah asked, as the priest shoved him
out of the room. “Trust
me,” were the priest's last words as he shut the door.
******
Elijah
felt relieved to be shut out of this dreadful business. He had sensed by Mortimer’s
secretiveness that the defrocked priest was going to mix Roman Catholic
Christianity and conventional sorcery together. Now he was convinced of it. In good conscience he could not allow himself to be a part
of this abomination. In his own
personal brand of born-again Christianity, he considered it the worst form of
heresy, and yet he wanted the terrible dilemma confronting them resolved. He had, after years of preaching on the
street, been confronted with something more terrible than the dark environs of
Skid Row. He told Alice and Blaze
that he was going to the hospital chapel to pray directly to God. The Lord, he reminded Alice, did not need
formulas or ritual to answer prayer.
Citing the Centurion who approached Christ on behalf of his dying
servant, he reminded her that it wasn’t necessary to be there to pray for
someone in distress. Prayers could
be answered from afar. Elijah and
Alice left together to find the chapel. Blaze insisted on keeping watch at India Crowley's door. The terrified look the sorcerer
registered in her room was still frozen on his face. “Please hurry back,”
he called to them as they walked down the hall. “Don't
open that door,” Elijah said over his shoulder. “Wait until he invites you in!” As
the pair entered the All Faiths Chapel of the county hospital, they glanced at
the Christian cross on one side of the room and the Star of David on the other
side. In the back of the room,
Elijah gathered with a glance, was a gilded Buddha in one nook and a New Age
crystal for self-meditation in a special niche in the wall. Moving to the crucifix, not sure
whether to kneel, stand or sit in the pew closest to this Roman Catholic symbol
of Christianity, they stood there a moment contemplating what sort of prayer
they would give God for such a problem in such an ecumenical and eclectic room.
******
The
nurses on duty, in fact, believed the priest was giving India Crowley the Last
Rites; otherwise they would have stopped these strange goings on at once. To camouflage the words he was saying,
Mortimer used Latin, which he felt both the Lord and the demon understood. The nurses had peaked in on him only
once since allowing him to enter India's room, concluding that the “kyria
sanctum and agnus dei” he threw in for effect was part of an authentic Catholic
prayer. At the very moment that
Elijah Gray and Alice Wagnall were settling in prayer on their knees in the
chapel, the priest Mortimer Hildebrand was calling again--this time in
English--for the demon to exit his host. “Unclean
spirit I said depart this innocent victim . . . All right she's not so innocent!” he cried out in
exasperation. “But she's a child of God, whose gone astray and no longer needs
your service. Out demon! In the name of the Savior, Jesus Christ,
out out out!” But
India did not move at all now and, in fact, appeared to be giving up the ghost,
herself, which could mean her spell would die with her and her victims would
forever remain cats. Canceling
India's spell, he believed, required her to be conscious; India was in a deep
coma now. After trying to exorcize
her demon several more times, Mortimer was reminded of the main difference
between this attempt and his two previous spell-reversals that resulted in
canceling the spells: the previous witches had been wide awake and had been
cooperative. They had repented of
their mischief. To add to the
difficulties of this session was the fact that India was not repentant. Even if she was conscious,
her cooperation could not be guaranteed.
He therefore needed her to be awake and alert, so he could explain the
mortal danger her soul was in and how he could help save her if she sought
God's forgiveness and mercy. Another
thought that had nothing to do with the success and failure of his mission plagued
him now: once again there would be no eyewitnesses to these events. On both occasions no one, including the
press, had been on hand to witness the bewitching and it had been foolish for
him to tell eyewitnesses that he was performing anything but an exorcism. He had been branded a lunatic by
the public and a heretic by his church.
In addition to performing the spell-reversal secretly again, it appeared
this time that he was going to fail. His
arrogance had blinded him to the truth.
Slumping down in his chair, Mortimer looked up at the ceiling a moment
in helpless despair. “Lord,” he
murmured, “I can’t do it this time!
In my vanity and conceit I assumed too much. I've never worked with an unconscious witch before. Please give me the wisdom and strength
to save this poor wretch and those unfortunates under her spell.” “May I come in,”
he heard a familiar voice breaking into his prayers. “Yes-yes,
come in sorcerer,” the priest mumbled hoarsely, without looking around.
“There's no danger in this room unless our subject dies. Her vital signs are still arcing on the
monitors, but for all practical purposes she may as well be dead. I never counted on a subject being this
unconscious and close to death. I
know of no special prayer or exhortation for this. I'm sorry, but all I've done is pray myself hoarse.” “If I may say so,” Blaze said, taking a seat
next to the slumping priest, but sitting on the edge of the chair as if he
might want to make a fast retreat,
“I've never attempted something like this either, but I wouldn't give
up--not completely. You need
modern medicine to help cancel this spell. You need more than prayers right now. If the doctors can't bring her to,
there's nothing we can do.” “Then
you are saying, in fact, that we should just give up,” Mortimer replied
accusingly, looking askance at the sorcerer, aware of the other man's fear. “It
took courage for you to enter this room O'Dare. You may go now.
I will stay with the subject until she dies.” At that point, however, there was a rap on the
door. A short, gaunt, bespectacled
doctor whizzed in, carrying the patient's chart in one hand, wagging his finger
at the officiating priest with the other hand for allowing someone else to be
in the room. “Oh,
it's all right doctor,” Blaze reassured him, standing up and moving out of the
way, “I'm India's favorite uncle.
She would want me to be here at the end.” “Hmmm. .
. . I guess it won't hurt,” the doctor sighed, after looking down at the
patient and inspecting the monitors by her bed. “I'm not sure if she'll ever
awaken. I'm afraid, in addition to
being filled full of lead, she's taken rather a bad fall: massive skull
fracture, broken neck and internal injuries made all the worse by bullets penetrating
her lungs and liver.” At
just that moment, Elijah and Alice were returning into the room also,
overhearing what the doctor had just said to the two men. Elijah’s face was grave with concern as
he placed a hand gently on the doctors shoulder. “Doctor,” he intoned softly, “as her
spiritual family, may we pray together in her room? Your chapel is far too ecumenical for our tastes. Did you know that you even have a
Buddhist statue in one corner of that room? Perhaps if her priest, myself, my sister Alice, and the
sorcerer--I mean uncle--pool our spiritual energies together we might gain
God's ear.” “No
loud noises,” the doctor wrung his finger. “The nurses said you were shouting
in here. We have other critically
ill patients on this ward!” “Certain
moue!” Blaze clasped his hands together and bowed. The doctor now gave
the sorcerer a dubious look. When
he exited the room, Elijah searched the room for another chair but realized
that Alice would have to sit on the floor as he, himself, unless one of the other
two men were gentlemen enough to offer her his seat.” “Well, what do we do
now?” Elijah asked, scooting down at the nearest wall. “I just couldn't pray in
that chapel, not with that hideous portrayal of Christ on the wall and all
those idols around the room.” “Did
they really have Buddha in one corner?” the sorcerer inquired, turning around
in his chair. “Oh, Miss Wagnall, how rude of me,” he said apologetically,
knocking himself deprecatingly on the noggin with a thumb. “Thank
you, but this floor is comfy enough.” she sighed, resting her forehead on her
knees. “This is a nightmare,” she
suddenly cried, “a living hell!” “The
only one,” Elijah said, looking abstractedly at the ceiling, “who is in danger
of hell is India Crowley. She’s in
the worst nightmare of us all. Her
soul is in danger of eternal fire!" “Nonsense!”
Blaze pshawed, with a snarl. “You worship a God of wrath with an unforgiving
nature. My God forgives the weak
and lowly. He would never consign
a soul to everlasting hell!” “His
god lives in hell,” Alice murmured into Elijah's ear. “God
is universal,” the sorcerer declared. “He doesn't speak merely to Christians
and Jews. He listens to Buddhists,
Hindus, and Muslims. He listens to
primitive headhunters on the Amazon and to the lowest urchin on the street.” “We
would expect you to make such a statement,” Mortimer clucked, a look of amused
contempt on his face. “Now I might include Jews and Muslims as my neighbors in
heaven, but Buddhism is actually atheistic and Hindus, who are polytheists and
idolaters, believe in reincarnation, not heaven. Perhaps a wino or derelict would merit paradise, but do you
really believe we'll find many cannibals or headhunters topside?” “This is all academic,” Alice looked up
with tears in her blue eyes. “You men deal with words. The preacher and I deal with
faith. The Lord, in his infinite
wisdom, has decided to leave things as they are. My fiancé and those other young adults of Shadow Brook Arms
will remain cats. God has spoken!” “Amen,”
Elijah said, bowing his head. “You accept
this?” Blaze stood up and looked down at them with amazement. “Has it ever
occurred to any of you,” he looked around the room, “that God has nothing to do
with it this time. You people
blame Him for everything! This, we have already established, is
the devil's work.” “And no,” he looked over at Elijah now, “get it through your
thick skull that I don't worship Satan.
Most witches and sorcerers fear him even more than Christians. In the words of Sherlock Holmes, they
know his game! Quite often he is
the reason behind a malady, which requires a spell, but not always. Sometimes, those things you blame on
God such as illness and war, are based upon human interest or just dumb luck. .
. . God does not prevent us from dying of cancer, so why would he prevent us
from being turned into cats.
What’s worse? I’d rather be
a cat! This time we are not
dealing with dumb luck or human wickedness, however; we are dealing with the
great architect of evil--the genuine article. We need a powerful witch, not God, too reverse this spell!” “I'll
having nothing to do with witchcraft,” Elijah rose up as if to go. “Neither
will I,” Alice vehemently shook her head. “Humph!
. . . Where exactly would you find such a witch?” Mortimer seemed to explore
the idea. “. . . . I can't believe that God will standby and let the forces of
nature take control. He's helped
me twice now to reverse this sort of spell. Perhaps the preacher’s right: all we need is stronger
faith.” “What
makes you think that God reversed those spells?” the sorcerer dared ask,
wincing as the priest rose up from his chair. “Perhaps God allowed these
natural forces to do his work for him.
How do you explain the cures of the savage pygmy in Africa or shaman in
American Indian lore. . . . Why can't you all broaden you're definition of
faith to include other peoples, who simply use other methods to achieve the
same ends.” “Because,
my dear sorcerer,” Mortimer’s voice dripped with sarcasm and he gave him his
most severe frown, “Christianity is not merely a matter of technical results;
it is built upon grace and the belief in the hereafter.” “Oh come now, my dear fellow,” the sorcerer snickered, “you are a
defrocked priest, a heretic who reverses witches spells. I would think you, of all people, would
understand the broader meaning of God.
Are you trying to tell me that, after being cast out into eternal
darkness by the Holy Mother Church, you still embrace Catholicism? Have you learned nothing from your
heresy and God-given gifts of exorcism?
You need the forces of nature as much as I. Is not nature a creation of God?” “Hah,”
Mortimer snarled with contempt, “an
oxymoron!” “Wait a minute! Maybe I haven’t been paying attention,”
Elijah interjected irritably, “but having Mortimer Hildebrand solve our problem
was your idea. Have you lost faith in him too?” “Faith
is the problem here,” Blaze replied,
“not the good priest's efforts.
I'm quite sure he’s successful when his subjects are conscious. But India Crowley’s unconscious, and
her demon will not budge until she dies.
Also, she’s unrepentant.
She can’t help us by her faith.” “There's
that word again,” Alice said sarcastically. “You’ve practically redefined it for us! Faith in what, mister O’Dare: God,
nature, or the devil?” “All
right, very well, she’s got a point,” Mortimer suppressed a yawn. “Witchcraft,
if that's what we choose to call it, requires the powers of God to achieve such
ends. This means having faith, not
simply having knowledge of occult paraphernalia and spells. We are dealing in God-given power,
sorcerer. There is no such thing
as magic per se.” “Oh,”
Blaze pursed his lips, “then what do you call Christ's raising Lazarus from the
dead and all those other miracles performed in both the Old Testament and New
Testament of the Bible. There's
millions of miracles reported by witnesses. Call it God's magic, voodoo, sorcery or what-have-you. But the fact is they have no basis in
logic or science. Abracadabra,
hocus pocus, or whatever--they're just that: magic! Why can't you believe and accept magic for what it is and
from other practitioners if they're working for the same ends?” Elijah
looked at O'Dare in disbelief.
“Are you seriously suggesting again that we find this Queen of the
Witches and turn India Crowley over to her now?” “Do you really
know such a witch?” Mortimer drew close to Blaze. “Or is this just more of your
theatrics sorcerer?” “I
have a register of witches,” Blaze explained, looking over to the preacher.
“You saw it, remember?” Elijah nodded
grimly. “The truth is,” said O'Dare,
wavering in the preacher's glare, “he didn't want me to use a witch. He made a great fuss, so I turned to my
register of priests, who perform exorcisms and such. There is a small number, of which you, Father Hildebrand,
belong, who, in the course of their exorcisms, can also reverse spells.” “So I wasn't your first choice,
eh?” Mortimer scowled at the sorcerer. “. . . . Well, you didn't tell me that
she was unconscious either. I
cannot call on her demon without her being awake or repentant, can I? I'm afraid the power of prayer in this
case requires consciousness of the subject.” “I
cannot support this,” Elijah shuddered, setting his jaw. “Neither can I,” Alice
snorted. Remembering what her fiancé had said to India during the
Halloween party, she quoted self-righteously from Exodus 22:18 and Deuteronomy
18:10: “A witch is an abomination to the Lord. . . Thou shalt not suffer a
witch!” But
the sorcerer, who had suggested just such a person in the first place and had
come up with Mortimer as an alternative, now felt vindicated. “If you will not
try to save these poor souls by any method at hand, I shall go it alone!” he
declared turning on his heel as if to leave. In
truth he did not want to handle this alone. He had never done the real magic required of sorcerers. He was, in fact, a burnt out executive,
whose wife had left him with three spoiled daughters and who, after a ruinous
divorce, had begun dabbling in the craft as a hobby to spice up his life and
make up for an unfulfilling career. Now
Blaze O’Dare (alias Horace M. Dwyer) had his big chance, and if it meant that
he was only being a manager and coordinator, as he had been in his previous
life, that was all right with him.
This would be the ultimate success story for him. He was a main player in an ongoing
pageant and miracle. He had
redefined himself after stumbling onto the greatest adventure of his life. “I
will agree to help you only if you promise to make Christ the center of you
rituals and ceremony,” Mortimer said, wringing his gnarled finger at the reluctantly
retreating Blaze. “Of
course,” Blaze said dubiously, “we will need all the help we can get.” “No, you can't do this. Listen to what he's saying,” Elijah
pleaded for reason. “He's going to get a card-carrying witch to break the
spell. You're hoping he will allow
Christ into the picture, but by definition that is quite impossible. It’s an oxymoron, as you said
yourself. Alice is right: suffer
ye not a witch! Have you forgotten
the Salem Witch trials and the Spanish Inquisition? Christianity will have nothing to do with magic and
spells. Witches do not call on the
powers of righteousness to break their spells or work their incantations.” “Mister
Gray,” Blaze looked irritably over to the apoplectic preacher, “don't quote us
scriptures or try to use your archaic Judeo-Christian ethics on me! Christianity, the priest has at least learned, is a dynamic
and ever-changing phenomena. Those
folks during the Salem witch trials or the Inquisition didn't know what witches
were any more than they did in the Old and New Testaments. They thought they were all bad. But they weren't all bad; many of them
were just trying to serve mankind in the same way clerics and missionaries have
done and do today.” “Listen,
sorcerer,” Mortimer wrung his finger at him again, “let me make this perfectly
clear. As far as I'm concerned,
witches are by definition bad. Do you really expect the preacher and I
to forgot five thousand years of history and tradition, simply because we are
confronted with the unknown. I
believe that God will make plain to us his purpose here, just as he did for me
in the past.” “Not for one
moment,” he spoke to Elijah this time, “will I forgot who is at the center of
all miracles,” “for miracles, not magic,” he concluded, looking back at the
sorcerer, “are at the center of such phenomena. I speak from faith as well as experience sorcerer; while you
are speaking merely on behalf of occult tradition.” The preacher would not budge on this issue. Alice shook her head vigorously once
more. “No,
priest, we can’t equivocate here,” Elijah reiterated stubbornly, folding his
arms. “We are Christians, not practitioners in diabolic rites. This is black magic--nothing more: a
thing of the devil!” “Ye
shall not suffer a witch!” came Alice's refrain. The
foursome quarreled for several moments as India Crowley's life hovered over the
abyss of death. No one agreed with
the sorcerer, but Mortimer was greatly torn by his own unorthodox faith and the
fear that this dreadful demon's magic would not be undone. The two witches he had known personally
in the past had been evil witches whose magic he had to undo but only after
their death bed repentances. Both
witches had, of course, died embracing the Lord. He had never known a good witch, especially one with
allegedly such great power. But
what if such a witch really existed?
Did he, through his own arrogance again, have the right to stand in the
way of those poor creatures’ only chance for salvation, even if it was provided
by such questionable means? How,
for that matter, could Blaze O’Dare’s super witch not be guided by God if she
had such a saving power?” “All
right, sorcerer, . . . we’ll find your super witch,” he said with resignation,
looking back at Elijah and Alice. “I just hope that the good preacher and Miss
Wagnall will add their prayers to ours.
We need all the help we can get!” While
the preacher and Alice Wagnall lingered in the room, the priest followed the
sorcerer into the hall. He had
hoped that the other two would join them, but it appeared as if he was the only
one who was going to support the sorcerer in this dreadful affair. Elijah
turned to Alice finally, the terrible dilemma registering on his freckly face.
“. . . . Those poor souls are trapped in feline bodies. I will continue to pray for them. . . .
You go back and take care of the cats.
I must tag along and make
sure
that God is truly represented in this affair.”
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