Larry Lanigan was semi-conscious when the ambulance arrived. and he didn’t seem to remember talking to me, so I just told the paramedics I’d seen him jump through the window, leaving out Vivian Carroll and the others. No point in confusing them with the true facts.
Then I checked my list of bars and nightclubs. Only two names left. I took an Uber to the first one, a few blocks off Michigan Avenue. By this time in the evening—8:30—it was noisier and more crowded than the ones I’d visited previously. Without Rachel I had a harder time getting anyone to pay attention to me, but I managed to show Vivian’s picture to a dozen customers, plus all the bartenders and other staff members I could flag down.
No one had seen her tonight. I didn’t see her anywhere. So I left.
One more place on the list. But I hesitated. Was I missing something? What if she went somewhere else? I called Valerie again.
“I can’t think of anything.” She sounded exhausted. “I can’t focus. I just keep seeing it over and over again, the black smoke and me with the gun and Ben—Ben falling down . . .”
I had another call coming in, so I let her go. “Tom Jurgen speaking.”
“Yeah, Mr. Jurgen?” I didn’t recognize the voice right away. “This is Rod? I’m the bartender at Angelo’s. You were here tonight asking about Vivian? She’s here right now.”
I called Rachel as I looked for a cab. “Do you want me to come up there with you?” she asked.
“No. Keep looking through the book. Did you guys find anything yet?”
“Georgeanne’s looking at a long chapter at the back. It might have spells for casting out demons. Or it might be recipes for barley and lentil soup. She’s not sure yet.”
“Let me know either way.” A cab slowed near me.
Vivian was gone when I reached Angelo’s. The bartender shook his head. “She just left with two guys. I didn’t know them. Sorry.”
“Thanks for calling.” I slid a $20 across the bar to him. “Did you hear anything about where they were going?”
“No. I never saw the guys before. It seemed like she was hitting on them, and they looked kind of surprised. Older guys, your age—sorry, I mean—”
I laughed. I’m in my 40s, and the bartender was 25. “No problem. Thanks again.”
I hustled down the sidewalk toward the Carrolls’ apartment. It was the most logical place for her to go if she wanted some privacy for possession.
In the elevator I called Rachel again. “Anything?”
“I’m sending you what we’ve got.” She sounded annoyed. “Georgeanne’s not sure of the translation. Or we can just send you the Latin.”
“Send me both.” I wasn’t sure I could pronounce any Latin correctly, but I’d have to try either way. “Wish me luck.”
“Just be careful.”
Yeah. I hung up. The elevator doors opened.
Breathing slowly, I made my way down the hall to Vivian’s door. I pressed my ear against it, listening. Nothing.
Slowly, as silently as I could, I turned the key in the lock and pushed the door half an inch. Now I heard voices murmuring inside, and I smelled incense burning.
I checked my phone. Rachel had sent two emails, one in English and the other a screenshot of the Latin spell.I knew I’d mangle the Latin, so I expanded the English as much as I could, took a deep breath, and pushed on the door.
Candles and incense sticks burned on a table in the center of the living room. The shades were shut tight, so shadows filled the room. Vivian stood with her back to the door. The two men faced her, their eyes wide. Their shirts were off, and their chests were heaving as if they were hyperventilating from the incense fumes.
They didn’t react to me. They wobbled unsteadily on their feet, staring at Vivian. Her arms stretched forward as if reaching for a hug as she chanted words in a language I didn’t recognize. Not Latin.
One of the guys twitched, then toppled to the floor, his body shaking. The other just stood there, oblivious to his friend’s distress.
Vivian stopped chanting. Her head started to turn—
I darted forward and shoved at the middle of the back. She shrieked in surprise, twisting, and fell to her knees.
“Get out of here!” I shouted to the guys, but they were too lost in the demon’s spell to break free quickly. So I brought up my phone and started reading:
“Demon of Hell, leave this world! Demon of Hell, leave this woman! Demon of Hell, leave this place! I cast you out, demon of Hell, back to the hell from whence you came!”
Yeah, it sounded cheesy. I wondered about Georgeanne’s translation. Maybe it worked better in the original Latin. It didn’t seem to be having much of an impact on Balmon now.
Vivian rose to her feet, her burning red eyes like flaming arrows about to launch at my heart. Her mouth opened, the jaw dropping down like a trapdoor, and darkness poured from her lips.
I staggered back, waving my arms as the darkness attacked my face like a swarm of bats. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe. Or move. I was paralyzed, trapped in a black shroud as I stumbled blindly backwards, trying to reach the door, trying to get away—
Then everything went black.
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