Lauren caught the subway back out toward Brighton after leaving Curran. She wasn’t entirely sure what she hoped to discover going back to the school, but the old nun there had been the only help she’d gotten so far.
And there seemed to be something about her that led Lauren to believe she knew more than she let on about what they were going through.
Or I might just be imagining it, she thought. Throngs of students crammed the car, pushing their bodies into the other passengers. They passed through Kenmore Square and thankfully most of them got off to head to Boston University. Lauren found a seat and sat, staring out of the window.
The train roared up Commonwealth Avenue, its windows streaked now by the cold rain falling out of the black sky. Lauren fingered her cross and felt its cool metal soothe her.
If only it was that easy for Steve. She frowned. Certainly seeing a best friend raped and then almost getting the same treatment would make anyone hate the Church. After all, Lauren could sympathize to some degree. After her brother had raped her, she’d lain awake at night questioning in much the same way Steve had.
But her path had led her back to the Church, not away from it.
Not like Steve.
We’re so different, she thought. So different. And yet very similar.
She smiled at the thought of having him as a boyfriend. She quickly chastised herself for thinking such a foolish thing. He was a cop, after all. She was going to become a nun. There was no way it could work.
It shouldn’t work.
She shouldn’t desire him at all.
If only it was as easy as her mind told her it should be.
If only this whole thing hadn’t happened at all. She’d never have known someone like Steve existed. And each of them would have gone on with their lives blissfully unaware of the other.
God works in mysterious ways, she smiled.
Maybe she was supposed to know Steve. Maybe they figured into one another’s lives in way they couldn’t yet see.
She sighed and went back to looking out of the window. Maybe she just had a silly crush on him.
The rest of the trip passed without event. Lauren got off at the final stop, skirting the campus of Boston College and heading down a side street toward the seminary and academic buildings of the Archdiocese. Streetlights overhead cast long shadows that danced ahead of her on the sidewalk. The rain had stopped for the moment.
She turned into the grounds and headed for the administration building again. It was almost six o’clock but she knew a lot of the staff kept late hours. She hoped the old nun would be working still.
A cold wind kicked up some dead wet leaves and scattered them by her feet. Lauren looked around. She felt weird. Like someone was watching her.
She whirled, eyes scanning the deep dark but finding nothing.
You’re being silly now. After all, evil wouldn’t come here, would it? This was sacred ground, owned by the Church.
She reminded herself then that evil had breached the library with ease. Why should the school grounds keep it at bay?
At the admin building, she tugged on the door and it opened. She walked a bit faster toward the office.
The outer office where the old nun had sat the other day was empty. Lauren slumped against the wall and exhaled in a rush.
“Can I help you with something?”
Lauren whirled almost dropping her purse and jumping out of her skin at the same time.
Sister McDewey.
Lauren put her hand on her chest and felt her heart jumping around inside.
Sister McDewey frowned. “Did I startle you?”
“A bit.”
“I’m so sorry. I thought I heard someone and came to see.”
Lauren nodded. “It’s all right. I’m just a bit tired is all.”
“Your studies?”
Something like that, thought Lauren. “I was looking for the old nun who was here the other day.”
“You mean Sister Donovan?”
“I never got her name.”
Sister McDewey’s face creased with concern. “She’s not doing too well, I’m afraid.”
“How do you mean?”
“She took sick quite suddenly. The doctors aren’t sure she’ll make it much longer.”
“She’s in the hospital?”
“No. She said she wanted to be at her home. It’s close by. She’s got someone looking after her all the time now.”
Lauren frowned. “I wanted to thank her for helping me.”
“Oh?”
“She directed me to some valuable resources in the library that helped me with a project.”
Sister McDewey smiled. “Sister Donovan always had a great head on her. So many facts and figures rattling through there. I can’t tell you how many times she helped me. We’ll all miss her terribly.”
“She’s not dead yet.” Lauren hoped it didn’t come out sounding as bad as she thought it might have.
But Sister McDewey frowned. “Lauren, don’t be like that. The doctors were quite sure in their estimates.”
“I’d like to see her one last time.” Maybe she can give me some final words of advice.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“What can it hurt? A simple thank-you to let her know how much she helped? It might do her some good.”
“Are you sure there’s not some other reason?”
Lauren smiled. “What other reason would I have for bothering a woman close to death?”
“I don’t know.” Sister McDewey considered her for a moment and then nodded. “Very well. Her address is just a few blocks away. Do you know the neighborhood?”
“Well enough.”
“Then here’s how you go…”
Outside again, Lauren felt the first drops of cold rain hit her face. She opened her umbrella and hurried along the slick sidewalks toward the street Sister McDewey had pointed her.
Had she fooled Sister McDewey? Lauren sighed. She guessed it didn’t really matter. There were some things she was prepared to do in the interest of the world that might not jibe with the Church’s official position. And she was prepared for those decisions.
Her heels clicked on the cement and echoed out into the growing darkness. Breezes roared off to her right side, making the huge linden trees wave and sway, their branches clawing the fabric of night.
The house was small. A simple ranch with a single floor, painted in white with black shutters. There was nothing amazing about it. It was as ordinary as any other home nearby.
Lauren rang the bell.
The door opened a moment later. A young nun peered out through the screen door.
“Yes?”
Lauren smiled. The rain had increased making her face wet. “I’d like to see Sister Donovan, please.”
“She can’t be disturbed now. She’s asleep. Come back tomorrow.”
Lauren pressed closer to the door. “Please. It’s very important I see her right now. I understand she may not have all that much time left.”
“She can’t be-“
A voice behind the young nun interrupted her. “Let her in Mary, it’s all right.”
The young nun frowned but unlatched the screen door. Lauren ducked inside as a huge peal of thunder broke out behind her and the sky pissed down with cold rain.
“Just in time, aren’t you?”
Lauren looked and saw Sister Donovan wrapped in a robe standing in the doorway of another room. The young nun rushed to her side.
“Sister, sit down.”
“It’s okay Mary. I’m all right. The good lord doesn’t want me checking out just yet. I’ve got a few more things to do here before that happens.” Her eyes twinkled and she winked at Lauren. “Now, would you be a dear and go fetch me a cup of tea? Just a little sugar to sweeten it if you would. I so hate the bitter taste of sugarless tea.”
Mary looked at Lauren. “You’ll watch her?”
Lauren nodded. “We’ll be fine.”
Mary left the room. Sister Donovan waved at Lauren. “Come into my room, dear.”
Lauren walked down the narrow hallway. On the green walls there were scores of framed pictures of a younger Sister Donovan in various countries around the world. Has she really been to all these places, thought Lauren.
“I did a lot of work overseas. I told you that, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“Those pictures, they’re all I have left aside from the memories. I guess that’s the way it is when you do God’s work.”
Lauren ducked through the doorway into the bedroom. A large crucifix hung on the wall. She spotted an oxygen tank on the floor next to the bed with an air mask lying atop it.
Sister Donovan sat down in an easy chair and then reached for the air mask. She took a few deep breaths and then laid it back down.
“Funny how quick life can go on you. I saw you yesterday. Would you have thought I was close to dying?”
“Not at all.”
“Must have been that silly cigarette.” She laughed. “Ah well. We’ve all got to go sometime.”
“Sister-“
“You found the library all right?”
“Yes. No problems.”
“And you found what you were looking for inside the room?”
“The key you gave me opened the door, yes.”
“Not about the key, dear. About what you found inside the room.”
“Yes.”
She leaned back. “So, you know then.”
“About the Soul Eater.” Lauren felt a chill even as she said it.
Sister Donovan reached for the air mask. “Yes.” She inhaled deeply and coughed a bit. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in many years.”
“But you know all about it?”
Sister Donovan shrugged. “I only know some of it, hon. There was man who knew much more than any of us ever did.”
“Graham Westerly.”
Sister Donovan smiled. “So you know that, too.”
“His name was erased in the margin of the book.”
“Done so by those who didn’t want there to be a record of his work. It’s tough to explain I suppose, but there are those in the Church who think such things as demons and possessions and all the other tools of evil shouldn’t be discussed at all. Almost as if they think if they don’t talk about it, it will go away.”
She smiled. “But evil doesn’t go away simply because we don’t believe or acknowledge it. It simply continues to grow in power. And when we finally do acknowledge its existence, sometimes it’s too late to stop.”
Lauren leaned forward. “There have been two deaths in Boston so far that seem attributable to this Soul Eater.”
Sister Donovan nodded. “He’s been at work for many years now. Boston, I fear, is the last stop for him on his global travels.”
“He’s been around the world?”
“Oh yes. For many years. You see, the Soul Eater isn’t mortal. He’s a demon in the form of a man.”
A demon? Lauren shivered again. It was one thing to read about such things, but to actually know one was prowling Boston terrified her. “But for what purpose?”
Sister Donovan looked up as Mary reentered the room with a cup of tea. “Here you are, Sister.”
Sister Donovan smiled. “Thank you Mary. Now be a good soul and leave us for a bit so we might talk, all right?”
“Very well. Best to drink the tea before long, though. Otherwise it will be cold.”
“I will. Don’t you worry.”
Mary left and Sister Donovan set the cup down. “She looks after me wonderfully. She can’t be faulted for not wanting to let you in earlier.”
“Of course not.” Lauren tried to smile but desperately wanted to get back to discussing the Soul Eater.
“Graham Westerly was a man born to studying the occult. Fortunately for the rest of the world, he did so out of good rather than evil. He traveled extensively cataloging a veritable grimoire of evil. Demons, wraiths, poltergeists, he documented them all.”
“And the Soul Eater?”
“He found him, so to speak, as well.” She coughed again. “Apparently, throughout time, the Soul Eater has appeared in various accounts of the Church. In years bygone, he would appear in small hamlets and towns far removed from the big cities. For what reason, we never really knew. Not until Graham came along.”
“You sound like you knew him.”
Sister Donovan smiled. “I wasn’t always a nun dear. When I met Graham he was already forty years old. And I, well I was considerably younger. We fell in love. He took me along on some of his trips.”
“What happened?”
“He disappeared on a journey into the South American jungles in 1947. He’d picked up the trail shortly after World War 2 ended. Heard about something happening in Rio de Janeiro.” Sister Donovan’s eyes seemed wistful. “I was sick here so he left me behind. Reluctantly. I never saw him again.”
Lauren shivered as the room suddenly seemed to get colder.
Sister Donovan reached for the mug and took a sip of tea. “I became a nun soon after, thinking I could best continue his work that way. I never expected to run up against so much pressure to not delve into arcane subjects like Satanism.”
Lauren could imagine how it felt. “But you did anyway.”
“What I did was travel doing missionary work while covertly trying to continue Graham’s work. I did a lot, I suppose. Most of it is in the form of-”
She stopped.
“Sister Donovan?”
The old nun’s eyes went wide.
Gasped.
Grabbed her throat.
Lauren sprang from her chair. “Sister!”
Sister Donovan slumped out of the chair to the ground. Lauren yelled out. “Mary!”
But Mary didn’t appear. Lauren knelt over Sister Donovan’s body feeling for a pulse in her neck. She found a thready slow drum. Sister Donovan's eyes fluttered, already dilating.
“Too late…dear.”
“Hang on!” Lauren turned. “Mary!”
Sister Donovan’s hand reached for Lauren. “Remember…he lives best…through the evil…of…others…”
Sister Donovan’s hand fell away. Her eyes went black.
Lauren stood.
Felt a huge rush of cold air sweep into the room, scattering the books on the shelves. She screamed. Around her the blast of wind howled and roared.
Lauren clutched her cross and prayed, her voice ringing out above the windstorm.
“No!”
The wind died down.
And she heard the laughter.
Low.
Soft.
It vanished within a few seconds.
Lauren turned and hurried from the room.
And almost stumbled over the body of the young nun.
She knelt and looked at Mary’s face.
Dead.
Another blast of cold air screeched into the house.
Lauren stood and ran.
She didn’t look back.