HARVEY STARED INTO THE MIRROR AND BARED HIS TEETH, LONG SHARP FANGS glinting white. He stuck out his tongue and waggled it around, hissed, and clamped his mouth shut--"Ow!" He stuck out his tongue again and rubbed it, chastened.
"Quit hogging the mirror, you turd!" Esmeralda pushed around him and looked at herself, first one side and then the other, pulling the string that made her wings flap. She stood admiring herself till Harvey pushed her away again.
"Go away! I was here first."
"Like it's your mirror. I'm older than you so I get to use it first."
"Do not! I'm Dracula and I'll bite you." He launched himself at his sister's arm, sinking his teeth into her wrist. Ez screeched and backed into the wall, wrenching her arm away so abruptly she took Harvey's teeth with it. Harvey himself tripped over the rug and fell.
"I hope that hurt!" Ez snapped, and started hitting him with her wand.
"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Harvey tried to block the blows with his arms. "Cut it out, Tinkerturd!"
"I'm not Tinkerturd, you fart! I'm a fairy godmother and I have the power to turn you into a frog!"
"I don't turn into a frog. I turn into a bat. A big bloodsucking bat!" Harvey jumped up again and spread his arms threateningly, sticking his fangs back into his mouth and baring them. Ez let out a little shriek and ran off, Harvey following flapping his arms, Ez pulling the string like mad.
Kat ducked out of the way as they ran past, their feet thudding on the floor and down the hallway. She tried to catch her balance, the big laundry basket she was carrying out to the utility room nearly carrying her over. A moment later there were two shrieks and the kids ran past again, this time followed by their adoptive uncle, sporting Harvey's fangs and fake claws on his fingers. At first Kat thought he was wearing makeup under his eyes but then realized he really did look that way.
"Ghhaaaaahhhh!" Damien hissed in his throat, cornering the kids in the utility room. They cowered behind the freezer, trying to disappear beneath a pile of fallen coats. "I'm Gartan. I eat fairies and vampires for breakfast! Ghrrrhhhhh!"
Ez and Harvey whimpered and started pulling the coats over themselves.
Kat leaned against the doorjamb. "That's really scary, you know. Careful or they might bite back."
Damien stood up, finally seeing her. "Oh. Hi, Kat." He looked ridiculous smiling at her with those fangs and long black claws. She rolled her eyes and walked across the room to deposit the laundry over by the washing machine.
"So you're going as Gartan on Halloween. Wonderful idea. Considering I've never heard of him."
"I just made him up," Damien said, joining her. "C'mon, Kat. Use your imagination."
"Yeah! Gartan's evil!" Harvey shouted, burying his sister in coats.
"Gartan's got to go visit his police friends," Kat replied, glancing back at him. Harvey pouted and kicked at a coat, which yelled, "Ow!"
"Yeah, I suppose I should," Damien said, pulling off the claws. "Still I hate to be seen without these. I'll be back later on, Kat, and maybe we can catch a bite together."
Kat had to turn away so he wouldn't see her grin.
"Is that a smile? Come on, you really did find that funny. Shame on you."
"Careful or I might bite back."
Damien held up a hand. "Ooooo. Stop. There's kids in the room."
Harvey made a face. "C'mon, Ez. They're getting all mushy."
"Again?" Ez said, finally breaking free of the coats and following Harvey out of the room. She dared to turn around and make kissy noises, then dodged and went running when ten black fingernails came flying at her.
"An Officer Haley called," Kat said as she sorted through the laundry. "He said you didn't have to visit them today because nothing's up." [Note--then why did she just say he had to visit the police? Cripes.]
"Nothing? Really? That's rare." He pulled out the teeth and made a sucking sound. "I hate how these things make you drool. Guess I can see why Harv [sic] likes 'em so much." Kat grimaced and he gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I better get them back to him before they get all germy. Ha ha, germy. You have the controls."
"Aye-aye, Captain." Kat ignored the look he gave her, instead picking through the clothes.
Damien walked into the den and set Harvey's false teeth down on the coffeetable where he'd be sure to find them. He glanced up at the air vent in the ceiling, set in Harvey's floor, sheerly out of habit. He could hear the two of them up there, talking about whose costume was better and how much candy they were going to pick up on Halloween. He wished he could listen to their prattle without feeling the slightest bit of anxiety creeping up in the back of his head. Luther had called Leslie; did that mean he had other things in mind, too? Like leaving a message on Damien's machine? Every time something happened with him and Scorpio he hoped it was the last. He was guessing now that that would never be true.
Guys like Luther just don't give up.
He picked up a paperweight and looked at it for no reason, setting it back down, the phrase running through his head like a mantra. Guys like Luther just don't give up. He started filling in other names. Guys like Derrick just don't give up. Guys like Mulroy just don't give up. And then, with some surprise--Guys like me just don't give up.
Well, at least he was in esteemed company, at least when it came to not giving up.
If they didn't need him down at the station, then he was going to do something else instead. Sitting around the house didn't make any sense. He'd never liked just sitting around the house very much. It was dull.
He decided his uncle must be at home right now, not the church; he'd go see him, talk with him about what was going on. Maybe bring up what Mulroy had told him, even if it was hearsay. He understood that just because Mulroy didn't appear to be afraid of water didn't mean he was lily white; there was more than one Satanic cult in the world. He didn't think them above working together once in a while. But so far the detective had been candid with him, at least as candid as he could be. There had to be something good in that.
Plus, his uncle had to know about this Johansen guy. That was someone definitely worth keeping an eye on. Like Mulroy, he found it a little too convenient that the state should send somebody from the Petoskey post to fill in for Danser. After a year, no less.
He went back out through the utility room, Kat barely taking any notice of him as he retrieved his jacket from the pile made by Harvey and Ez, put it on, and went outside.
"There's a certain smell to this time of the year. I used to call it Halloween. Now I just call it Autumn." [Note--it's the spicy smell of rotting leaves.] Father Damien turned from looking out the window at the orange and red trees surrounding his house, giving a faint smile to his nephew. It looked much colder outside than it actually was; Damien couldn't remember a Halloween when it hadn't been raining. Right now the air was misty, the grass and fallen leaves soaked straight through.
He believed he understood what his uncle was talking about. "Let me guess, Uncle. It's kinda like old wet things--old wet dirt, old wet clothes, mildew--but it's also kinda spicy. And smoky. With a little bit of a bite to it."
The priest looked at him with some surprise. "Why--yes, that's it. That's it exactly. I never really knew how to describe it but you got it just right. How did you know that?"
He smiled slightly and lifted a shoulder. "I thought I came up with the same idea."
His uncle smiled back. "Maybe it's not so unique after all. Come in the kitchen and I'll get you something to eat."
Damien followed him and sat down at one of the stools lining the counter, glancing out the sliding doors to his left as his uncle moved around. "Just dropped by to update you on how things're going down at the station," he said. "You weren't there yesterday; but there's a new guy working for them. Sergeant Johansen." Father Damien gave him a brief look before continuing, fetching a pitcher of orange juice and pouring some into two tall glasses. To Damien it looked like summer was going into the cups; he wondered what fall would look like. Tomato juice? "Already Mulroy doesn't like him."
"Mulroy doesn't like him? That's odd."
"Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know if we should trust either of 'em--but I tried that old water trick with Mulroy at Pizza Hut."
This time his uncle's glance was longer. "Water trick? You spilled water on him?"
Damien nodded. "He pretty much saw right through it, but it didn't bother him. That's not to say he's clean as a whistle. But this Johansen guy, you should've heard him..."
Father Damien set the orange juice down in front of his nephew, along with a ham sandwich. That also brought back a few memories; once they'd invited Derrick over for ham sandwiches, and that meeting hadn't gone too well, either. Damien picked it up and took a bite. "He's from the Petoskey state post. He says he's been sent to fill in the vacancies left by Danser and Mabarak till we can get someone else more permanent. Though God knows why they'd bother sending someone in now."
"Danser died over a year ago," Father Damien said, his voice slightly strained. "And Mabarak wasn't exactly a loss. I don't see why it took them so long."
"Kinda convenient, though, don't you think?"
"Too convenient. What else?"
"He says everything we do goes through him first. That ticked Mulroy off no end. Guess he likes working solo."
"Wait--the Petoskey post? Why from so far away? Couldn't they find anyone closer?"
A shrug. "Apparently not. But there's something fishy about him."
"Don't tell me you're going to go spill some water on him, too."
"Nah. I don't think it'd do anything." Father Damien gave him a strange look, and he felt he had to explain. "Don't get me wrong--I'm not saying he's not with them. But I have the feeling he really isn't with them. At least, not directly. But maybe something else."
"Such as?"
"I don't know, Uncle. That's just it. He isn't exactly acting like one of them, but there's something funny about him anyway."
"Maybe getting him dunked wouldn't be such a bad idea. They did that in old times, you know; dunked people in water, just to see if they were witches or not."
"You should know. You wrote the book on witches."
His uncle smacked him lightly in the back of the head and got up to go to the fridge. "So that's pretty much all that's been going on? Nothing else's come up with this Laws lady?"
"Kat says Haley called with no news. Haven't heard from Mulroy either. I'm supposing she's okay for now." He paused and tapped a finger against the glass. "Hey, Uncle, what is it exactly that detectives do first in a case, even before examining all the evidence?"
"First?" Father Damien frowned at him. "I'm expecting they question the witnesses. At least, that's how it always goes on TV."
"Right," Damien murmured. He stood up and finished his sandwich. "Feel like paying Ms. Laws a visit, Unc?"
"What for?" Another frown. "What've you got up, Damien?" [Note--eh!! I do believe he means, "What are you UP TO"!!]
"Nothing, Uncle. I just want to see how thoroughly Mulroy and the others've talked with her."
"But you were there, and I was too, when they talked."
"But there's a few areas I'd like to go over in a little more detail. You game?"
Father Damien sighed. Whenever his nephew got something like this in his head, there was no use trying to get it out. "I guess. Let me clean up this mess of yours first and then we'll go see Ms. Laws."
When they rang at the address they'd been given by Officer Haley a dark-haired woman answered the door, glaring at them suspiciously. Damien gave what he was certain was a foolish grin when a voice from inside called, "Who is it, Naomi?"
"Two guys, Les. Should I tell 'em to go away?"
Damien and his uncle could now see Leslie approaching from further inside. She saw them and her face brightened. "No, it's all right, Nay. They're friends. Let them in."
The woman she'd called Naomi backed away from the door, but the look she gave Damien as they entered made him think twice about calling casually on anyone again.
"It's so nice of you both to visit," Leslie said, leading them into the living room and gesturing to the couch. "I've been trying not to go out as much, with what's going on and all; it gets so dull just sitting around here. Not that there's much else to do. Can I get either of you anything to eat? Something to drink?"
"A drink, maybe," Father Damien said, with a polite smile. Leslie turned to the door but Naomi blocked her way, spreading her arms wide.
"Ah-ah," she said. "I'll get it. You sit down." She disappeared into the kitchen.
Leslie rolled her eyes. "Naomi Banks. She's a little overprotective. Especially now that I've got one in the oven. I'm sorry if she was rude to you on your way in; her idea of a man is someone who marries a woman and does all the work for her."
Damien couldn't help but to smile at that one. "Yeah, sounds kinda like my girlfriend Kat sometimes."
Leslie's smile grew; she looked almost ready to laugh. That would have been a good thing. Then it grew a little strained and she smoothed out the velvet on the arm of the chair she was sitting in, across from them, on the other side of the coffeetable. "It really is good of you to visit," she said. "Can I ask why?"
"I just wanted to clear up a few things. Things Detective Mulroy went over at the station. If you don't mind."
"Of course not. He called you in on this, too."
Damien raised an eyebrow. "He did?"
She nodded. "I guess he's heard of you, or something. When I first came in Officer Haley directed me to him, and he brought you up. He said something about you being involved too." She gave him a curious look. "These Scorpio people--they're after you, too? Why? What do you have that they want?"
Damien's smile was crooked. "It's kind of hard to explain. When did you say this started up?"
"About two months ago. Late August. I just started getting these weird phone calls out of nowhere, somebody saying 'He's ours.' [Note--missing comma.] It was the same voice as on that tape you played. The second voice. The weird one, I don't know..." She trailed off, then murmured, "'...Don't bother tracing the call,' or something..."
Damien nodded. "His name's Luther Broderick. He's the one in control. But they have others. I've met a few of them." He tried not to let the unpleasant feelings surface in his expression, though Leslie's own words made him frown. "Late August, you said? That's when it started?"
She nodded. "About two months ago. I remember because that was when Naomi started bugging me about getting a man."
"That's when they came after me," Damien murmured, turning to his uncle. "And after you. The last day of August, a couple months ago."
"So these two things were going on at the same time?" Father Damien raised his eyebrows. "Luther must have had a very busy summer, chasing after both us and Leslie."
"You?" Leslie's voice drew them both back. "You said they were chasing after you?"
Damien forced a smile and nodded. "Last summer. They kidnapped my uncle because they wanted something of ours. These necklaces." He pulled out his own, a silver D, to let her see it. She leaned forward so he pulled it off and handed it over to her. "There's three of them, and Scorpio wanted them. It's a little hard to explain..."
"There's something funny about this," Leslie murmured, tracing the D with her fingers. "It feels almost like there's something coming from it. Emanating from it or something, I don't know...like it has some kind of power." She shook her head abruptly and gave a slightly embarrassed smile, handing it back. "Sorry about that. Guess it's my advanced state, making me say silly things."
Damien took the necklace back without saying a word. He and his uncle shared a glance. They both knew the D's weren't supposed to do anything without each other, but whatever it was, Leslie had felt it. Somehow.
Naomi arrived with a tray and four mugs of tea. She set it down and set a cup in front of each of the others; when she set down Damien's, last of all, it struck the tabletop a little hard, spilling some of the tea out and spattering his hand. He drew back with a hiss, rubbing the burnt spot.
"Sorry," Naomi said in a flat voice. She took a chair away from him, over at the end of the table, closer to Father Damien. [Note--what I meant was, she sat some distance away from him, not that she actually took away his chair. Heh.] When Damien looked up he caught a "Sorry about that" glance from Leslie, who in turn shot a dirty look at Naomi. Naomi flushed and looked away.
"Sorry," Leslie said. "The glasses get a little hot, and hard to hold, I suppose--"
"No problem," Damien said, picking it up. It wasn't that hot at all. "Cutting your fingers on guitar strings all the time, a little scalding tea won't hurt you."
Naomi flushed harder and gave him a dirty look. "You're a musician?" Leslie said, her face brightening again. Damien nodded and she went on. "I thought there was something familiar. Your name, I mean. I thought I heard it somewhere before... How on Earth does a musician get tied in with a cult?"
"Long story." He didn't really wish to go into it; Father Damien picked up where he left off, talking while Damien sipped his tea.
"His parents are involved, actually. He's been trying to get them out."
"Oh. I see." A sympathetic tone entered her voice; Damien seethed inside. That was exactly why he hadn't wanted to bring it up. There was nothing he hated more than sympathy from people who had no real right giving it. [Note--that sounds kind of snotty. I think what I mean is, Damien doesn't like getting false sympathy, AND he just doesn't like being pitied. The latter of which seems to apply more in this case.] "I guess that does tend to get one involved. Just how big is this cult, anyway?"
"No one's really sure about that. From all their propagandists have told us, though, you'd think it's some worldwide thing. Detective Mulroy appears to agree."
"Worldwide. That's horrible." Almost unconsciously, she placed one hand on her belly, staring at the wall between them. "Then they could be everywhere."
Darn right, Damien thought, and a picture of Johansen flashed in his head.
"How many of them have you met?"
"I'm not sure, exactly..." Father Damien paused in thought. "Well, a year ago, there was one--Derrick Grant, his name is. Not a very pleasant fellow to meet out on the street."
"Or anywhere else," Damien muttered. He remembered Kat telling him how Derrick had threatened her and the kids with a gun.
"There was this other one, he shot an officer who worked at the station. Sergeant Danser. They never caught him. Danser's post has just been filled in, as I've been told."
"That's terrible," Leslie said, her voice barely above a whisper.
[Note--spoilers for D Is For Damien.] "Then there's Luther, and there was Lieutenant Mabarak..." Father Damien gave a little shudder and shook his head. "Thank goodness though, none of us has to worry about him anymore. Scorpioans don't have much luck with water. Lieutenant Mabarak drowned in an accident on Lake Huron."
"Accident?"
This time both Damien and his uncle answered her: "Long story."
A nod. "I see."
"I'm sure there're plenty of others, though," Father Damien added. "There was another one I saw several times when I was trying to get Lilith and Lucifer out; I don't know his name, but I'm supposing he must have been powerful, at least in this branch of the cult."
Damien's ears perked up. He hadn't heard of this before. "What's he look like?"
"Oh. I'm sure you've never seen him. Or remembered him, at least. A little taller than Derrick, not quite so tall as Luther. Kind of dusty brown hair. Brown eyes. Never smiled. I saw him a few times, and Lilith warned me about him. I wish I could remember his name; it began with a G or a J or something." He sighed and shrugged. "As far as I could tell, he was either second in command or very close to it. You remember when we were looking for the last D, I told you probably four people had known about it," he said to Damien. "The former high priest, Miss Clare, your father, and someone else. This person was probably the someone else I was thinking of. I'm not sure if he's still with them now." [Note--this cultist's name is Gregory, and he appears in a secondary role in later stories.]
"Derrick's second in command now, remember? If this guy is still with them, he'd have to have been moved down a notch or two. Because Mabarak was also pretty high up. You saw how the other cultists followed his orders."
Leslie listened to them without cutting in. She didn't have anything to contribute to the conversation, and preferred to hear what they knew. It might end up helping her out, sometime. [Note--well, so much for fixing the shifting POV...]
Naomi just eyed the two with suspicion. She didn't like how much they knew about this cult, and why the police would be calling in a couple of total strangers on something this important. She wasn't going to trust them. Even if one was a priest. [Note--good Lord! Now I'm in her POV, too??]
"Well, whoever he is, if he's still with them, we'll have to keep an eye out for him," Father Damien sighed wearily. "Because he's still on their side. Someone was helping them find that last D. It must have been him. Your father hid it in the tunnel, but Bodine found out and fortunately enough for us left it there. He's probably kicking himself in his grave right now with how things worked out."
Damien was only half listening; as his uncle trailed off he sat up straighter and turned to him, pointing a finger.
"He is still with them! Remember? Miss Clare? When she was telling us about the D's she mentioned his name. You were right. It was Gregory. I remember that. She said he was important in the cult, and he was the one helping them."
Father Damien's look grew strained. "Well, then there's another one to watch out for. Too bad we don't have a police sketch artist with us, I'd have him make a drawing right now so we could keep our eyes open."
"Don't worry," Leslie cut in. The other two looked at her with some surprise, almost having forgotten her. She gave a small smile. "I'm going to be keeping my eyes open for everything."
Damien smiled back, though it was awkward. "Don't try to worry too much. I hear stress is bad for babies." She did laugh a little, this time. "Besides, me and my uncle'll be keeping our eyes open for you. And Haley and Mulroy. Jones, too, if we can ever get him out of bed."
"It is his new shift," Father Damien agreed.
That set all three of them laughing, except for Naomi, who stood up to leave the room, not bothering to listen to the rest of their conversation.
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