Summoning the Night (Arcadia Bell #2)(53)

A short Earthbound man raised his hand and stood. The congregation applauded. Brother Paolo walked to the fiery summoning circle and stood next to Merrin, who laid his hand on Paolo’s shoulder. “What is your question for the demon before us?”

The man cleared his throat. “I’d like to know if my brother will survive open-heart surgery next week.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. The demon standing in front of him didn’t have that kind of information. He wasn’t an oracle, for the love of Pete. I expected Merrin to tell poor, misguided Brother Paolo this. Instead, he was rephrasing the question in Latin. Did the demon even speak Latin? He seemed to be listening to Merrin. His tail flicked lazily, but he remained silent. Merrin pressed him for an answer.

“Pedicabo te,” came the demon’s reply in deep voice.

Merrin’s face tightened. Lon quietly snorted in amusement beside me.

“Yes,” Merrin said hurriedly. “He says your brother will survive.”

The congregation applauded.

“I don’t recognize that verb,” I whispered to Lon as Brother Paolo returned to his seat. He didn’t look all that happy about the news. Maybe he was hoping to inherit his brother’s bank account. “What did the demon say?”

“He threatened to sodomize the magician.”

Frater Merrin’s voice bellowed over the opera epic crackling from the speakers as he called out the banishing words to release the imprisoned demon, who immediately disappeared. A shame. I was starting to enjoy this ridiculous farce.

The altar girls poured black sand over the summoning circle, extinguishing the dwindling ring of fire. More applause erupted throughout the temple. A creepy hosanna-filled hymn followed. These people were one big, collective mess.

A potluck dinner, of all things, was announced. The congregation exited the temple into a room off the foyer. Lon and I stood up and hung to the side, nodding politely as people passed us. The last couple headed out of the beaded curtains. Lon tapped my arm. We strode to the front of the room, ignoring the weak protests of the altar girls, and marched up the set of stairs after the retreating figure of Frater Merrin, who climbed to a small loft room.

Stormy daylight filtered in through a window of glass bricks and cast a hazy light over a mussed up bed and a rack of clothes. An old theater makeup dresser stood against the wall, its mirror bordered with round light bulbs.

The magician turned around. “You’re not allowed up here,” he warned. Mismatched eyes—one blue, one brown. We were standing in front of the man who’d taken a big bite out of Cindy Brolin’s arm. I felt a little sick.

“Don’t remember me, Frater Karras?” Lon asked.

The elderly magician squinted, then picked up a pair of wire-rim glasses off the dresser, hooking the curved ends over his ears. “My goodness, is that Butler’s kid? Well, I’ll be damned . . . it’s been a long time since I’ve set eyes on you.”

“Since your ‘accident,’” Lon confirmed. “The one that caused you to hurt your back so badly, you couldn’t work for the Hellfire Club anymore. What year was that, again?”

“Oh, a long time ago, to be sure.”

“Around the time of the Sandpiper Park Snatcher,” Lon said, hand sliding inside his jacket.

I searched the magician’s face for some spark of guilt, but he simply nodded and smiled tightly. “Yes, sometime after that. How’s your father?”

“Dead.”

“Oh? I’m sorry to hear that.” The regret in his voice almost sounded genuine.

Lon unholstered the Lupara from inside his jacket.

The magician took a step back in alarm and held up his hands. “What is this?”

“Let’s talk,” Lon demanded.

“Talk? About what?”

“For starters, why don’t you tell us about Jesse Bishop? We found your handiwork in the cannery. Was he your assistant? Did he help you snatch those kids, or did he catch you with your pants down?”

The magician’s eyes remained steady, but his fingers curled up under the edges of his robe sleeves like snails retreating into their shells. It took him several moments to answer. When he finally did, he sounded exhausted. Demoralized, almost. “You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“Why don’t you explain,” Lon suggested. “We’ve got time. Why don’t you also tell us why you were biting the kids you kidnapped thirty years ago?”

That got the man’s attention. A wave of surprise shadowed his face. “It’s no use, because you won’t believe me.” He backed up another step and hit the dresser, steadying his fingers on the edge of it. “There’s something far bigger going on that you can’t comprehend. The best thing you can do right now is forget you ever saw me and leave it alone.” His hand inched further back along the dresser top as he spoke. “Because it won’t end. If he’s not successful this time, he’ll just keep trying. Thirty years are nothing to him.”

“Who will keep trying?” Lon asked. “We saw Bishop’s bones. We know he’s dead.”

Merrin sighed. “Bishop was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Then who are you talking about? Why are the children being taken?”

Did Lon see Merrin’s hand moving? I stuck my own hand in my pocket, ready to retrieve my small caduceus.