He’d passed that night with the light on, flipping through his Bible without seeing the words, mumbling catechisms and the Lord’s Prayer. He’d tried to speak to his priest about the incident, but the modern church was more interested in pop psychology and public relations than battling ancient evil, and so little Rodney was left on his own. Fortunately, the Internet and a New Age bookstore had provided an armchair education, and soon he was secreting away holy water in preparation of the coming Armageddon, when the Fallen would have their day.
The Roach had become an informal demonologist, working outside the church, moving in a world that bordered between low-budget horror movies and La-La Land. He’d taken up ghost hunting almost as a cover, since the equipment reassured many of the clients who consulted him. The Roach never charged for his work, believing it a calling from God, and he’d joined Spirit Seekers International because the group would provide more opportunities for service.
Only problem was, these days, he wasn’t so sure which side he served.
God promised eternal peace and joy, but it was a delayed gratification. Lucifer and his gang gave you everything you wanted, and right now.
But Lucifer played a game of bait-and-switch, with the catch being you only thought you wanted something, and when you got it, you realized it wasn’t so good for you. And when you wanted another person, and consumed her against her will, then it wasn’t so good for her, either.
Eat her like a cracker. Bread of life, bread of death, it all comes down to crumbs floating in the chalice.
“You picking up anything, Roach?”
Cody gave his sparkling gaze, and The Roach was nearly disgusted by the innocence and light that swam in The Future of Horror’s eyes. Angels weren’t born, they were made, and they pissed him off royally.
There but for the grace of God go I. Maybe you’re taking my dance card on the head of a pin.
“There are five here,” The Roach said. “Two of them are the bad-ass variety. The rest are impressions that don’t even know they’re dead.”
“We’ll slap the MAC Attack on them and pin them down.” Cody was rigging motion detectors in the large dining hall to work in sync with the cameras, all linked to a couple of eight-gig hard drives that could store two days’ worth of data. Audio, thermal image, spot temperature, electromagnetic activity, all measurements were recorded and correlated with the exact time so that anomalies could be cross-referenced. Cody’s MAC Attack did everything but give the ghosts an anal probe, and The Roach was sure that feature would be added once he patented his system and marketed it to the UFO crowd.
“You were right about the crawl space,” Roach said. “That entity’s so old it doesn’t even have a name.”
“I’m just afraid of what’s going to happen once all these paranormal tourists start stirring things up.”
“Come on, Cody. You’re not afraid of anything.”
Cody flashed his smile, and heavenly light practically sparkled off his teeth. No wonder Kendra was sweet on him. If Wayne didn’t watch it, he’d be raising an extra generation, and it wouldn’t be a virgin birth, either.
“Nothing sticks to you that you don’t invite, right?” Cody said.
True dat, little friend. “But you can be tricked.”
Cody perched a tripod in the corner of the dining hall. “Other people can be tricked. Not me.”
“You just haven’t been presented with the right temptation yet,” The Roach said, thinking of Kendra.
“Oh, I’ve had a few,” the teen responded. “Jesus wandering in the desert and all that. Keep your heart pure and you’ll be okay.”
Cody reeled out some black, plastic-sheathed cables, keeping them out of the traffic areas as he set up his sophisticated data-collection system. The paranormal field had exploded with technical gear in the last decade as profit margin sparked its own brand of ingenuity. While a few technogeeks had invented tandem devices to combine various measurements, Cody had developed software that charted information from multiple sources. All the MAC Attack needed was a marketing push and Cody would be set for life.
“We’ve got a visitor,” Roach said. A shadow shimmered in the cut glass of the ornate dining-room door. The round tables were bare, covered by white linen and an air of expectation, as if invisible diners had eaten and were now waiting for dessert.
The door creaked open and in came Kendra. “You guys ever heard of a light switch?”
She flicked on the electric chandeliers, but an incipient gloom still clung to the corners like a permanent stain.
“Ghost hunters do it in the dark,” Cody said.
“Yeah, yeah, and all night long, too. I’ve heard it before. When you going to come up with some new stuff?”
Cody looked past the camera he was mounting to Roach. “I’ve got to get this lady on my payroll.”
“You don’t have any payroll,” Roach said. “Remember, you’re the ‘future of horror.’ You ain’t happened yet.”
As Kendra approached, Cody made a show of swiveling his camera toward her, as if recording her walk. She immediately broke into a stilted, filly-like strut, like a model on a runway. She was overdoing it, a little uncomfortable in her flirting.
“I’m too sexy for my shoes,” she rapped, in a send-up of the old Right Said Fred song.
“Paranormal poster child,” The Roach said. “You’ll be ready to take over for Digger any day now.”
“Cool it, Roach. I’m not legal yet. Besides, I’m going to art school.”
Cody propped a ladder against the wall. “You don’t believe in any of this stuff, do you?”
Kendra sat down on one of the tables, and it wobbled, throwing off her calm insouciance. “Nothing personal, Cody. But I’ll believe it when I see it, and you haven’t shown me anything yet.”
Whoa, she’s good. Roach ogled her as much as he could get away with, noticing how much her figure had filled out in the past year. The pesky little brat was swelling into a full-blown tart. If I were 10 years younger and had a shred less morality...
“What does Digger think about having a heathen in the family?” Cody climbed the ladder to tape a remote thermometer to the wall.
“I don’t think he’s noticed,” Kendra said. “But I talk to my mom all the time.”
“Communing with the dead?” Cody said.
“I call it praying,” Kendra said. “Your mileage may vary.”
Roach checked the electromagnetic levels in the room and marked them down. While Cody’s program would record the data automatically, Roach still found comfort in pen and paper. He’d seen computers go dead along with other equipment, especially when demons needed a handy power source while entering the physical realm.
“Better watch your aura,” Cody said. “Roach says there are some Dark Ones here.”
“I don’t get it,” Kendra said. “If God has the power to throw angels out of heaven, why would He allow them to hang around down here and tempt people with evil, possess them, or whatever?”
“God needs somebody to do His dirty work,” Roach said. “Keeps his hands clean.”
“What do the demons get out of it? I mean, Lucifer got tossed out on his buns because he wanted to be top dog, and now he’s sitting around plotting his comeback?”
“That’s what the Book of Revelation is all about,” Roach said, though that biblical text was clouded by metaphor and poetic nonsense. “The Fallen go for it, they get Earth for a thousand years, just enough for them to get a taste, and then–whammo–God yanks the bone out of their mouths.”
“Okay, so they’re waiting for their day in the sun,” Kendra said. “Then why are they messing around in the meantime? If demons walk among us, how come none of us are possessed?”