Chapter 17
An unfamiliar car was parked in front of Cora's house when she got home. The meeting with Frannie had encouraged her to some extent, but the stress of the last few days left her exhausted.
Shit! The last thing I want right now is company. This has been...I just want to curl up on the couch...throw a blanket over me...forget everything....
Entering the house, she recognized Father McGrath's voice. He probably brought the books he promised. She panicked.
What are they talking about? Angel!
She hurried into the kitchen. "Good afternoon, Father," she said, unsmiling, setting her purse in a corner and hanging up her keys. Today he was dressed in full clerical garb, she noted, and the stop at their house was likely one of many calls. Good-perhaps he would be in a hurry to leave.
"I just offered Father a cup of coffee and put on a fresh pot. It's almost done. You want some?" asked Cisco.
Cora groaned inwardly. Father had to leave before he said something dangerous. How was that going to happen if he was waiting for coffee and chatting? Certainly he would bring up their talk, if he hadn't already.
Maybe she could distract him. Desperately trying to figure out what to do, she bustled around the kitchen, pulled things out, put a frying pan on the stove, and began to slice vegetables and meat.
Cisco looked at Cora and narrowed his eyes. "Can't you let that go and sit with us?"
"I'll be done in a minute. Let me get dinner started," she said, and kept chopping.
"Maybe I should get going," Father said, glancing back and forth as if sensing tension.
"I'm sure we're keeping you from something important," Cora agreed. "It was good of you to bring the books, but if you're busy, you don't need to stay to be polite."
"Cora," Cisco said succinctly, with another puzzled glance at Cora. "Father was just saying it was a relief to get away from the church for a while, and he'd love to have coffee and some of your cookies."
"Oh...sorry...I didn't mean to be rude. I thought I'd taken enough of his time the other day, and now here he is doing another favor." She didn't look up from her work at the counter.
"Not at all," Father said. "I haven't had the occasion to delve into parapsychology for years. It's been an interesting diversion. I could point out some particularly informative sections of the books...," he began.
"No!" Cora interrupted, and then tried to cover her involuntary outburst. "I'm sure you marked the pages. To tell you the truth Father, it's been a difficult day and I'm not sure I'm up to discussing this now. Do you think you could leave the books and I'll call you after I read them?"
Cisco set a cup of coffee in front of Father, ignoring her words. If he had any idea she was trying to get Father to leave, he wasn't going along with it.
"We were talking before you got home..." Cisco began.
"Do you want salad with the casserole?" Cora interrupted again, before Cisco could say more, turning away to open a cabinet and retrieve a casserole dish.
"Sure. Say, would you like to have dinner with us?" Cisco invited, holding out an open hand toward Father. "Cora always cooks too much. If there's leftovers she doesn't have to cook the next night. I suspect she does it on purpose." He laughed and Father joined him.
"I'll take a pass, but can I have a rain check?" Father said. Cora let out a slow breath in relief.
"You're sure now? It's no trouble," Cisco said, waving an arm again in invitation. Cora said nothing. Cisco gave her another irritated glance, probably wondering why she was acting so unwelcoming.
"Coffee and cookies will be just fine," Father said.
"Oh, yeah...the cookies. Sorry...I forgot." Cisco went to the cookie jar and piled a mound of cookies on a plate. "You don't mind my hands, I hope."
"No, that's fine." Father tried to catch Cora's eye. "I was telling Cisco I thought these books might help figure out how to put an end to your troubles with this spirit."
Damn it!
He couldn't have said anything worse! There was no point in avoiding the subject and no telling how Angel would react now he had mentioned putting an end to her-unless Cora could salvage the situation by trying to make it look like the books would be helpful instead of threatening.
Cora put down her knife. She turned off the stove and took a seat across from the priest, looking him in the eye fondly. He was happily crunching a cookie, his cheeks full.
"Maybe we don't want to put an end to Angel, Father," she said. "Maybe we just want to understand her so I can work with her instead of against her."
Father and Cisco exchanged a look. Father swallowed and reached for another cookie. "That wasn't what I thought we were trying to do. I thought you sensed threats."
She shifted her eyes away, then resolutely back to his. "Well, that's changed. I just want to understand her better. Will these books help me do that?"
"Perhaps. But in my opinion you should decide if your problems are exaggerated reality or figure out what it is this entity wants from you and find a way to stop it. These are great, by the way," he said, holding up a cookie.
Cora turned away without reply, at a loss for what else to do. Her efforts to save the situation were making it worse.
Jumping back in, Cisco frowned and shook his head. "As we were saying before Cora got home, maybe this is all blown out of proportion. You seem to be encouraging her idea there could be some entity, as you say, visiting her. I find it hard to believe you would do that."
"Why should you find that hard to believe? I'm a priest. Who else should know about the afterlife?" Father gave Cisco a gentle smile. "Right now I'm speaking as your friend, not as a priest. Cora told me you thought she exaggerated the situation. I'm not convinced either way, but I do think she believes it's real. We should be helping her assess her problem and deal with it."
Cisco's distorted smile indicated he was dubious. "What would make you think it was real?"
"Some facts point to real experiences. Didn't you witness one this morning, the message on the computer you told me about earlier?" Father asked.
Cisco glanced at Cora before answering. "We thought that could have been a hacker. We never got an answer, but Cora was sure it was a message."
Cora was silent. Would it make things better or worse if she told them about Angel's latest message and what she now thought about the diary?
"I bet Cora thinks a hacker is improbable, and I'm of a mind to agree with her."
"You can't seriously think there is an evil spirit in the house!" Cisco exclaimed, waving his arms.
"No, but neither can I say I've excluded it. I hope when Cora reads the chapters I marked a thought or memory will prompt what we should do."
Cisco and Father glanced at Cora, who wasn't taking part in the conversation. She had to convince Angel she was on her side. If she didn't tell the others what happened that morning, would Angel suspect she was harboring secrets and become angry-and dangerous?
Cora lifted her head and looked at Father, then held Cisco's eye. "She did answer the message. She answered it after you left, Cisco."
"Right," Cisco said, shaking his head. "How did she do that?"
"When I went upstairs after you left, the office door was closed. You didn't close it, did you?"
"I don't think so. It drifts shut sometimes, though."
"It drifts over, not shut. Not clicked shut so I have to turn the handle to open it, right?"
"Uh...yeah," he admitted.
"Well, I had to turn the handle. And when I opened the door, the diary was lying open on my desk. I didn't put it there-I put it in a drawer. But when I entered the room it was open by my laptop." She crossed her arms over her chest.
"Maybe you forgot..." Cisco began.
"I didn't forget, Cisco! Please believe me and listen. I know this!" She held his eye. "And on my computer screen was a new message. It said 'Yes. Start here Darlin'."
The color drained from Cisco's face, and he appeared to be struggling for a logical explanation. "If it turns out you're telling stories for some strange reason, I'm not going to take it very well."
Cora narrowed her eyes and looked directly into Cisco's. "I'm not telling stories, Cisco. That's what happened."
"Maybe someone snuck in..." Cisco began. He was interrupted by Cora's snort and obdurate expression.
Father cleared his throat, reminding them he was still in the room. "What do you think Angel's message meant?"
"This time I'm sure I know what she wants. She wants me to read the diary, starting at the page she opened it to. There must be something she wants me to find in the diary."
"What's that?" asked Cisco.
"I haven't had time to read it yet." She threw her hands up and shook her head. "Frannie called and I had to run right out. With everything going on, I almost forgot I was meeting her today." She hoped Angel wouldn't catch the fib, and wondered if Father would figure out that the diary might belong to Angel. She looked at him to check his reaction.
Father McGrath pinched his lips between thumb and forefinger, deep in thought. Finally he said, "In view of the new message, I think we should assume there's a spiritual presence and deal with it. But I don't think it's wise to continue investigating on our own. We should get help."
"Do we really have to get someone else involved?" Cora asked, frowning. "Shouldn't we wait until something really threatening happens? All she's asked me to do is read a diary. How threatening is that?"
He placed both hands on the table and looked directly into her eyes. "The first issue here is establishing her existence. Once we accept she exists, we have to act, because we suspect she caused harm to others. We don't know how much was done already, or if or when another awful thing will happen. We should prevent that, but we have no idea how."
"I'm reluctant to call anyone in too. I agree with Cora," Cisco said, waving his arms to emphasize his opinion. "We've done all right so far. Why take that step? Even if we do, who do you go to for this sort of thing? These people who investigate the supernatural don't seem very credible to me."
"You haven't been hurt so far, and Cora thinks this entity is protecting, not threatening her. But I doubt Valerie would agree the situation is harmless." Father looked over the top of his glasses. "No-we have to act. There are reliable people in the church. Let me make some calls to see if I can find someone, and we'll stop this Angel. I'll start as soon as I get home."
Cora tried one more time. "Can't we wait until after I read the diary? I can read it tomorrow. Surely we can wait that long?"
"Why don't you bring it down and we'll read it now," Cisco suggested.
Cora dropped her chin into her hand, her elbow resting on the table. "Cisco, I'm just so exhausted. It's been the craziest day, maybe the craziest day of my life. I just don't think I can do another thing. If I'm going to tackle the diary I need a clear head, but I have to have a break. I just can't...not today."
Cisco looked at Father. "You heard her, Father. I think we wait a day, okay?"
Father nodded reluctantly. "I'll wait for your call, then, but no later than two tomorrow, all right? That should give you enough time, and I'll have the afternoon to reach people."
Father stood up, and began to put on his jacket. "Read the diary first, but check the books I brought too, at least the pages I marked with sticky notes." He zipped his jacket, patted his pockets, and pulled out a set of keys. "I loved the cookies."
Cora followed Father to the door, relieved he was finally leaving. "Thanks so much, Father. I hope you're not disturbed by our differences of opinion."
The priest smiled. "How can I be of help to anyone if I can't take a little disagreement in stride? Talk to you tomorrow."
As Cora opened the door, she heard a rustle and noticed movement in the shrubbery beside the front entrance. "What was that?" She startled and jerked back into the doorway, tense and wired after her emotion-packed day.
Cisco, who had been beside her, stepped out onto the front stoop and looked around. "I don't see anything, Cora," he said. "You're really jumpy."
"She's got reason to be jumpy, don't you think?" Father McGrath said, joining Cisco outside.
Cora glanced toward the shrubbery again nervously, but, not seeing anything out of the ordinary, stood next to Cisco as they watched Father walk toward his car. As he reached for the door handle, a large animal darted silently from the shrubbery. Catching the motion out of the corner of his eye, Father turned and jumped away in alarm, too late to prevent the animal from clamping its jaws around his ankle. He screamed in fright and pain as the creature pulled him off balance and he fell down on the driveway.
Horrified, Cora recognized the wolf, who released the hold on Father's ankle and now stood over the priest; mouth open wide, teeth bared in an aggressive grimace, it snarled and arched its neck. Father attempted to scramble away, screaming and throwing his arms protectively in front of him. The wolf slashed at his arms and Father pulled them away reflexively, leaving him momentarily exposed, and the wolf forced its body over him, ripping at Father's jacket, shirt, and clerical collar, trying to reach his throat, as Father writhed, uttering guttural screams, struggling frantically to protect his head and neck and to push the animal away.
Cora screamed, "No! Stop! Leave him alone!"
She ran to the wolf and began pounding her fists on its back, thinking of nothing but stopping the attack. Behind her she heard Cisco yell, "Cora! No! Get away from that wolf! It'll kill you!" He rushed to her, grabbed her around the waist with both arms, and pulled her away.
"Let me go!" She twisted wildly, broke away from Cisco and with both hands grabbed handfuls of fur on the back of the wolf's neck, trying to pull it off the priest. "Get away, Cisco! I mean it! I'll be okay. Call 911!" she shrieked.
Cisco cried, "We need a weapon!" and ran into the house.
Cora forced her hands around the animal's neck, interwove her fingers to lock her arms around it, and buried her face in its musty fur, straining to lift it off the priest with all her strength, heedless of personal danger.
The three struggled, Cora wrapping herself around the beast, fighting to maintain her footing and not be pulled over. Hugging it, she could sense its immense power, feel its muscles pull powerfully with each reach, each snap of its jaws, feel the chest expand with every raspy breath, smell the foul odor of its mouth. Beneath the fur, its rib cage felt thin and bony, the fur soft but dull-looking, like a starving dog.
All the while Father screamed, thrashed, batted at the wolf's face, jerked away from slashes to his hands and arms, while the wolf continued its attempts to rip at his throat.
Cisco rushed back, brandishing a golf club, watching for a way to hit the wolf without hitting Cora.
The wolf lifted its head and snarled, snapping its jaws wildly from side to side, avoiding Cora behind its back, and squirming powerfully to break her hold. Having succeeded in dislodging the wolf from the priest, Cora released it, took a step back, and stood facing it with heaving breaths, arms out and ready to grab it again if it resumed its attack.
The wolf took a stance between Cora and Father, and snarled again, staring at her, ears erect. Cora reached out an arm to stop Cisco, preventing him from swinging the club, sensing the animal was done. It backed away a step, lowered its tail, and looked from Cora to Father bleeding on the ground, then back to Cora. It looked toward the house, up at the second floor, as if watching something in the window of Cora's office.
Father clutched his neck and moaned, struggled to draw a wheezing breath, blood flowing between his fingers and dripping off his arms.
Now the wolf noticed Cisco with the golf club, lifted its tail, turned its attention to him, and moved toward him menacingly. Cisco raised the club and waited.
Cora watched the action unfold as if she were a spectator, her heart pounding.
The wolf slowly turned its attention back to the office window. It tilted its massive head to the side, hesitated, took a slow step back, turned, then raced for the farm at the end of their block, and disappeared from view.
Cora dropped to the ground beside the now unconscious priest and put pressure against his neck with her bare hand. "He's bleeding-bad! Damn it! Got to stop it! Oh, my God! Get me a towel! Call 911! Jesus, please!"
Cora looked up and saw a few neighbors, drawn by the commotion, assembling in the street, saw Jean from next door running out of her house-thank God, a nurse!- and she heard a distant siren. Help was already on its way.