The cops finally let us go home after I told them everything I knew several times while they tried to decide whether I was crazy, lying, or playing some kind of game with them.
“So you’re saying they’re both possessed by a demon.” The detective was a tall, skinny white man named Hendricks. “And Parks was going to be an exorcist for them?”
“Something like that.” Rachel was talking to another cop a few desks away from me. At least they hadn’t split us up in separate interrogation rooms. “Parks used to be a priest.”
Hendricks sighed. “And this demon, Malik? What is he?”
“Persian. I don’t know much more than that.” I rubbed my eyes. “Look, I’m telling you what I know. The cops in Chicago know me, they’ll tell you I have some pretty outlandish stories, but—”
“Yeah, we’ve heard of you out here, Jurgen.” He looked at his notes, then waved to the cop talking to Rachel. “You done?”
“Yeah.” The other cop, a woman, grimaced. “You can go as far as I’m concerned,” she told Rachel. “Why you’re going with him—”
“He’s cute, in a funny-looking sort of way.” Rachel stood up and waved to me. “Let’s go, lover.”
I grinned. But my mood plummeted again when I thought of Oscar Parks lying behind the church. Dead.
Back home Rachel headed straight to the bedroom. “That was fun, but I’ve got to go to bed,” she told me, unbuttoning her shirt. “I mean, except for the dead guy. You okay?”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “I’m going to check my email.”
“Don’t stay up all night. I’ve got a big project due tomorrow, and I don’t need you being grouchy in the morning.” But she walked over to kiss my cheek. “I’m sorry about Oscar.”
“Yeah,” I said again. “It’s okay. Get some sleep.”
I stayed up to check my messages and drink a beer, thinking about Parks and praying to a God I didn’t quite believe in that Zack or Leonard hadn’t sent me an email that would send me right out into the night again. And also, oh yeah, that Zack was all right.
When I went to bed, I dreamed about vampires. Some of them chased me. Some of them tried to bite me. One tried to seduce me, until I woke up sweaty and irritated to my insistently buzzing alarm.
After my shower and my cereal I took my coffee into the office, hoping to catch up on other cases. Rachel came in at 8:30, earlier than usual, in sweats, with a Batgirl mug. She grunted at me and slumped down in front of her computer to tackle her project, whatever it was.
We worked in silence until my phone buzzed around 11 a.m. “Damn it.”
“What?” Rachel glanced over her shoulder.
“Jessica Stavic.”
“Great.” She kept working.
I picked up my phone. “Tom Jurgen speaking.”
“It’s me. Jessica? From last night? I just—I got a call from Zack just now.”
I hid a sigh. Why couldn’t these people leave me alone? But curiosity and stubbornness won again. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He says—he said his brother tried to kill him.”
Oh hell. “Why?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t sound very rational, you know? Something about bringing something together. I don’t know.”
“Is he with Leonard right now?”
“No. I don’t think so. He says he ran away. He wouldn’t tell me where he was, or maybe he didn’t know. He did say there was a church—”
“What church?” I realized my voice was a little too loud and too tense, so I took a breath. “Sorry. You probably don’t know.”
“Nope. But he said the guy at the church yesterday told him about it. Told him to ask for someone—and I don’t know who, before you ask.”
“Yeah. Okay, thanks.”
“I just wanted to let you know. Does this help?”
“Maybe. Thanks again.” I hung up.
“What’s going on?” Rachel had turned in her chair, watching me suspiciously.
“Zack. Leonard apparently tried to kill him.” I was on my computer, looking up the church in Woodridge.
“What the hell? Wouldn’t that—” She paused. “Oh.”
I looked up. “What?”
“The demon is split between them, right? Maybe if one of them dies . . .”
“It becomes one demon again?” I thought about it. “I wonder if that’s better or worse.”
“Worse for the one who dies. So where is he now?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” I got the church’s number and punched in the digits.
The secretary left me on hold until Father Ross came on the line. “Yes, Mr., uh, Jurgen? How can I help you?”
“Father Ross, when you talked to Zack yesterday, did you mention a church in Chicago he could go to?”
“I, uh, well . . .” He cleared his throat. “I told him I know a priest at St. Ledas, father Medina. He’s performed exorcisms. I thought he might be able to help. Zack didn’t want to leave, or go outside, so I told him I’d try it myself, but then you showed up— ”
I was already looking for the address. “Thanks, Father. Have a, uh, blessed day.”
He hung up. I stood.
Rachel crossed her arms. “Where are you going?”
I pointed at the computer screen. “To see if Zack is there. Looking for an exorcism. Maybe I can help.”
Rachel groaned. “I’m coming too.”
“What about your project?”
“I’ll get an extension. I haven’t done that yet since I’ve been there.” She headed for the door. “What are you waiting for? Vamonos!”
I knew better than to argue with her. “To the Batmobile.”
St. Ledas was on the west side of Chicago, a small church in a small neighborhood. I found a parking spot down the street, but we waited in the car for a few minutes, looking for any sign of Zack. Or Leonard.
Rachel grunted. “You didn’t bring Donald, did you?”
“I forgot.” Actually, I had thought for a moment about bringing the handgun, but decided not to. Leonard wasn’t with Zack, anyway. We’d be fine.
She sighed. “Okay. Are we going in or what?”
I opened my door.
The church was crammed in between two apartment buildings. A metal gate was open. We walked up a short sidewalk surrounded by grass and flowers to a front door. I pulled it open, and we stepped inside.
A hallway ran from side to side. An empty desk sat by the door. The entrance to the sanctuary was off to one side. A security camera was mounted in a corner of the ceiling.
“Hello?” I called. “Father Medina? Zack? Hello?”
No answer. I looked into the sanctuary, Rachel behind me, and called again.
Then a dog came racing up the hallway, barking furiously. I jumped, backing up, trying to get between it and Rachel before it leaped on us and tore our throats out.
“Sebastian.” A mild voice from the end of the hall chuckled. “Settle down, boy. Is this how we treat visitors?”
Sebastian, a small beagle, began darting in circles in front of me while Rachel punched my shoulder and laughed. The speaker was a short man in a black T-shirt and a priest’s collar, smiling as he walked down the hall.
“I’m Father Medina,” he said. “May I help you?”
“My name is Tom Jurgen.” I handed him a card. “This is my associate Rachel. We’re looking for Zack Rupp, Is he here? Has he been here recently?”
Father Medina stared at my card, frowning. “I think Zack mentioned you. It’s hard to tell, he’s rambling a lot.”
“What about his brother Leonard? Is he here?”
“No.” He shook his head.
“Where’s Zack?”
He gazed at Rachel and me, as if praying for heavenly advice. Finally he said, “This way.”
We followed him down the hall and up a flight of stairs. At the top he opened a door into a small room with a sloping ceiling.
Zack sat in a chair, asleep. Snoring softly.
Father Medina folded his arms. “A friend of mine in Woodridge told me he might be coming. He warned me that Zack doesn’t seem very stable. He told me why.”
“A demon.” Rachel looked at Zack. “I can feel it all over the room.”
He looked her over—not the way men usually do—and smiled, glad somebody understood. “Yes. I’ve been preparing for the ritual, because it’s going to be pretty complicated. Because—”
“Because the demon is split between two people,” I said. I didn’t want him thinking Rachel was the only one who believed in demons. “Zack and his brother Leonard.”
“Precisely.” The priest picked up a book from a table in the corner. “There’s no precedent for this kind of thing, not that I can find. If I had both of them together—”
“Leonard has killed people,” I said. “Two that we know about. Maybe more. It’s the demon, I know, but he’s dangerous. The police are looking for him.”
Father Medina set the book down. “I don’t—Zack is scared of him, but I didn’t know what that meant.”
“He tried to kill Zack,” Rachel said. “Maybe to have the demon all to himself.”
He looked at the door. It had just a flimsy deadbolt. “This is beyond my experience. I’m bound to help whoever I can, but I don’t think I’m—”
Downstairs Sebastian started barking again.
Rachel staggered, and grabbed the wall to keep her balance. “It’s—it’s him.”
Damn it. “Stay here.” I pulled the door open. “The demon’s name is Malik, by the way.”
“Tom—” Rachel fumbled in her pocket. “Take my—”
“I’ve got some.” I slammed the door behind me and turned to the stairs, one hand in my jacket pocket.
Leonard was halfway up the steps.
He was taller than I expected from his picture. His face was red, his hair tangled, his chin and cheeks bristly. He seemed to be muttering to himself as he mounted the steps, Sebastian behind him, barking frantically. Leonard kicked at him, but he stayed on his heels, nipping at his shoes.
“Leonard!” I held up a hand, palm out. “It’s me! Tom Jurgen! Stop!”
He blinked, as if trying to remember the name. Then he shook his head. “Get out of my way.” His voice was a growl.
“Let’s go downstairs.” I tried to keep my own voice from shaking. “Zack is fine. The priest here it taking care of him. You should really sit down and—”
Leonard lunged at me. That’s when I saw the knife in his hand.
It had a long blade, stained with—what? Dried blood? Probably. Fortunately he was five or six steps below me, and before he could reach me to do any serious damage I had my pepper spray out. It wasn’t a handgun, but I always carry some, and the spray could slow down or stop bigger men than Leonard. Even vampires and other monsters.
Leonard screeched in anger as the spray hit his face, and he staggered back down two steps, coughing and slashing with his dagger. I stayed above him, the sprayer in my fist.
Sebastian darted up and chomped at his ankle. He was a small dog , but his jaws were apparently strong and his teeth sharp enough to rip through his sock and draw some blood. Leonard howled, kicking viciously, and then he lost his balance. With a shriek, he tumbled backward down the stairs.
He flipped over, bouncing at each step, legs flailing, his hand still tight around his knife as the dog jumped back and forth, barking and nipping at his arms and legs.
Then Leonard hit the bottom. His neck bent sharply, and the knife dropped from his hand. His fingers twitched as his body shuddered.
Then he went limp.
Sebastian barked, running down the steps until he reached Leonard, and then started backing away, whimpering. He edged forward once and sniffed at Leonard’s scalp, then turned and fled.
I clambered down the steps, out of breath. Leonard wasn’t moving, but he was still breathing. Blood seeped from the back of his skull.
I kept my pepper spray tight in one fist as I knelt next to him and planted a hand on his chest. His breathing was shallow. I kicked the knife across the hall and felt for the pulse in his neck, half expecting him to lurch up like the killer in a slasher movie. But his body was motionless.
“Tom?” Rachel, at the top of the steps. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I think so.” Should I start CPR? I grabbed my phone to call 911. “What about up there?”
“Yeah, we’re—wait.” I heard her footsteps. “What the—Tom, get up here!”
I ran up the stairs, talking as fast as I could to the 911 operator, hoping I was making some kind of sense. Then at the door, I stopped, looked inside, and hung up.
Father Medina was struggling with Zack, who was trying to get past him to the doorway. Rachel blocked him, the stun gun she always carries in her fist as Zack squirmed and twisted in the priest’s arms.
Zack was growling, his face red like his brother a few moments ago, sweat running down his cheeks and through his shirt, his eyes burning like flame. “Get—off of me! Get away!”
“It’s him.” Rachel glanced over her shoulder at me. “He’s all Malik. He’s all inside him. What happened to Leonard?”
I didn’t have time to answer. Zack succeeded in shoving Father Medina to the floor, but then Rachel jabbed him with her stunner. He howled, but hurled himself forward, and Rachel spun and fell on the floor, cursing.
I dropped my phone and grabbed my spray just as Zack rammed into me. I toppled backward, but I managed to spray his face as I fell. He kicked me but bent over, clawing at his eyes, shrieking in rage.
Sebastian was there too, barking and circling him warily. He tried to kick the little dog away, but then Medina was on top of him, pulling one arm back until Zack yelped and pounded a fist at the floor. He tried to roll over, but I jumped on him too, grabbed his other arm, and yanked it back until his face went white with pain and his howls of rage became grunts and gasps of pain.
“We have to restrain him.” Medina was panting as he held onto the arm. “I don’t have anything—stay still, Zack!—to hold him down, but we have to do something if I’m going to perform the ritual.”
“You may not have time,” I said as Zack rolled back and forth, groaning as he tried to break free. “I had to call 911 for Leonard. I think he’s dead.”
“That’s why—okay, that makes sense,” Rachel said, keeping her stun gun close to Zack’s neck. “He suddenly went crazy. Crazier. That must have been the other half of the demon reuniting with him.”
Zack’s body sagged, like a child suddenly running out of energy and deciding to take a nap. Medina sighed and wiped a hand over his forehead. “I don’t know what to do. I mean, I can try to do the exorcism, but—”
I lifted a hand. Shouting below, someone calling, “Hello?” The cops.
“Stay here.” I left Rachel with Zack and the priest and made my way downstairs. Slowly. Hands on top of my head. I was glad now I hadn’t brought Donald with me.
Two paramedics were crouched over Leonard’s body, trying to bring him back to life. Two cops stood next to them: a female, Hispanic, talking into her radio and a male, Black, with his hands on his hips staring up at me.
“His name’s Leonard Rupp,” I said carefully, staying a few steps above the body so the paramedics could work without bumping into me. “He’s wanted for the murder of Oscar Parks in Woodridge and a woman named Carol Beck in Wicker Park.”
The male cop crossed his arms. They looked huge enough to crush me. “And you?”
“Tom Jurgen. I’m a private detective—”
“Oh, hell,” the cop said. “Not you. Please, not you.”
I shrugged. “Sorry. The thing is, we’ve got a priest performing an exorcism upstairs, and—”
“Shut up. Just shut up.” The cop shook his head. “Diaz, call it in. Get Cruz and tell him this is going to be complicated.”
Two weeks later my phone buzzed at 9:30 a.m. Zack. “Tom Jurgen speaking. Hi Zack.”
At Zack’s name Rachel swung around in her chair. “Is he—”
I held up a hand and put the phone on speaker as Zack said, “Hi, Tom. I was going through my brother’s emails, and I found your bill. I made a payment to your account.”
“Uh, thanks.” The invoice wasn’t very much, and I wouldn’t have bothered him over it. But every little bit helps pay the cable bill. “How are you doing?”
“Fine, I guess.” Zack sighed. “It’s still sort of—strange. I’ve got a new therapist, she’s helping.”
“That’s good.”
The cops had put Zack in Northwestern’s mental health unit. After a day or so, Father Medina had finally persuaded them to let him try an exorcism. Apparently at least one doctor there had seen a case of demonic possession before. After a few days, Malik was gone.
The cops took me downtown and questioned me for hours, but in the end they couldn’t charge me with anything. Leonard had been carrying the knife he’d used in the two murders, and a camera in the church hallway had caught at least part of Leonard’s attack. They cut me loose, but I had to take an Uber to pick up my car. Rachel had already left for class.
“Yeah,” Zack said. “The nightmares are still bad. I wish—I don’t know. But thanks. For helping.”
We hung up.
“You okay?” Rachel asked.
“Yeah.” I sipped some coffee. “I mean, I wish I hadn’t killed his brother, even by accident, but at least the demon is gone. So, glass half full, I guess?”
“I can’t wait until I can treat people like him. I’m going to be great.” She turned back to her computer.
I watched her for a few minutes, my mind on Zack and Leonard. Then my phone buzzed. A client. Time to get back to work.
# # #
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