The New Neighbor (28 page)

“Mom?" Robby said quietly outside the bathroom.
 

"Robby? Robby, please, do me a favor. Take your sister and ... and just go out for a while, okay? Will you do that for me?"
 

"No, Mom."
 

"Puss-puss-puss? Kitty-kitty-kitty?”
 

"Go to a movie, okay? There's money in the ceramic elephant in the kitchen. You can take the car."
 

“No, mom, I'm
not
leaving while he's like this."
 

"Oh, h-he-he's just up-upset." Her voice sounded thick with tears. "He'll be fine after while."
 

"C'mon, Monroe ... where are ya, fella ... kitty-kitty-kitty ... "
 

"He's
not
just upset and he
won't
be fine." Robby hissed. "
Nobody's
gonna be fine. Mom, this is happening to everyone on Deerfield, I think. I think this is probably what happened to the Garry's."
 

“
Robby
," she gasped at him for suggesting such a thing. "Your father is just a little –"
 

"It's
her
, Mother, and you
know
it."
 

"I ... Robby, you're ... I don't know what you're talking about."
 

"Come out and talk to me. Please."
 

"No."
 

"Because you're afraid of him. See? It's
her
, Mother, she's sucking the life out of
all
of us, sucking out everything that's good and –"
 

A piercing snarl sounded from the guest room.
 

"Gotcha!" George shouted with a laugh.
 

"
Leave him alone
!" Karen shouted from the bathroom.
 

George stepped out of the guest room carrying Monroe by the nape of the neck. The tip of his tongue poked from the corner of his broad grin.
 

“Dad?" Robby said.
 

He pushed Robby aside as he walked by briskly.
 

"Damn you, George!" The lock rattled, the door opened and she stepped into the hall. "Leave that cat
alone
!"
 

His laugh faded as he rounded the corner toward the kitchen.
 

She followed him.
 

Jen's door opened and she peeked out cautiously. "What's –"
 

"Just stay in there for a while, okay?" Robby said, then followed his parents. He was halfway to the kitchen when he heard the Cuisinart come on.
 

Karen screamed.
 

Robby stumbled to a halt in the kitchen as George backhanded Karen in the face, slamming her against the refrigerator. She slid to the floor as George removed the plastic top of the Cuisinart and held the squirming cat over the opening.
 

"Dad,
stop
it!" Robby shouted as he dove forward, wrapped his arms around George's waist and tried to pull him away from the counter.
 

George swung his elbow back hard and caught Robby's chin. Robby hit the floor hard and slid backward over the tile. His teeth had closed on the inside of his lip and he could already taste blood.
 

George pushed the cat's behind into the transparent plastic casing. Monroe was too fat, though, and stopped within an inch of the spinning blades.
 

Karen screamed incoherently, reaching out to George imploringly.
 

"You don't
need
it anymore!" George roared. "You've found
another
pussy!"
 

Robby got to his feet as Jen came in still wearing her crop-top and panties. She screamed shrilly, relentlessly.
 

Robby went for his dad's shoulders, screaming in his ear, "Dad, will you stop and look at what you're doing,
think about what you're
–"
 

George shook Robby off, turned and backhanded him with a fist. His knuckles hit Robby just below his left eye and returned him to the kitchen floor.
 

Turning his back on the others, George used both hands to push on the cat. The animal fought and clawed and spat and released a long, piercing yowl.
 

Karen and Jen continued to scream.
 

None of them heard the front door open, but they all heard the booming voice.
 

"
George Pritchard
!"
 

The screaming stopped.
 

All four heads turned to see Pastor Quillerman standing in the kitchen doorway.
 

None of them moved.
 

Pastor Quillerman crossed the kitchen and jerked the Cuisinart’s plug out of the wall, glaring at George.
 

"I think," he said, his voice a low rumble, "that we should talk."
 

Chapter 18

Into Temptation

For a while that morning, bars of sunlight had managed to pierce the blanket of clouds overhead. It had even looked, briefly, like the clouds were going to break up and give way to blue sky. But it wasn't long before the sunlight was swallowed up and the sky was once again a low ceiling of grimy steel.
 

The street was thick with reporters from all the local television stations and some from Sacramento and San Francisco, even a couple of networks – CNN and MSNBC.
 

Although it was the reason they had all come to the neighborhood, there was very little activity at the Garry house. A police officer had arrived earlier that morning with a man and woman – presumably relatives, because they looked grief-stricken, but they wouldn't speak to any of the reporters – and had taken them through the house. Then they'd gone, leaving the house dark and empty once again.
 

But the Pritchard house had captured their interest. They all knew it was the home of Robby Pritchard, who had discovered the carnage down the street, and who had been the killer's best friend. But there was more.
 

There was all the angry shouting that had been taking place there, and that gaping hole in the side of the Pritchard house that had seemed to be as much a mystery to Mr. Pritchard that morning as it was to all of them. And those three strange words written in the circle on the front door. What language was that? Or were they names, perhaps? And what significance did they have on the front door? Who was that man who'd limped into the house without knocking earlier? And what about all the screaming they'd heard in there just a little while ago? Was there some connection between the Garry killings and the Pritchard family? Were the killings cult-related, perhaps? Were the boys involved in devil worship?
 

The reporters had caught the scent of a story they could milk, and they weren’t going anywhere until they got some answers. They'd moved their cars and vans up the street and parked them in front of the Pritchard house, where they waited for someone to come out and talk to them, or for something to happen, anything at all.
 

When the front door opened, they rushed forward.
 

It was that limping man again. He came out onto the sidewalk and waved at them, smiling as they came forward. Before the barrage of questions could begin, he spoke.
 

"I'd like to have a word with all of you, if I might. It'll just take a moment.”
 

They moved in close and waited for him to go on.
 

"I am Jeremy Quillerman, the Pritchards' pastor. Needless to say, they're very upset about what has happened to their friends. In fact, the entire neighborhood is grieving today. I encourage you to keep that in mind. I know it is your business to report the news, but ... there is no news here, I'm afraid. Only tragedy. The writing on the front door is simply vandalism. The nasty hole over there is best dealt with by a carpenter, not reporters. So, please folks...until something else comes up, why don't you go back to your places of employment and write your stories. The people here have suffered a great loss and a great shock. They're in no condition to answer questions now." He smiled again, nodded with a finality and said, "Thank you for your time." Then he turned and headed back into the house.
 

The reporters fired questions like bullets, shouting to be heard. He didn't even slow his limping pace. He went inside, closed the door and locked it.
 

They grumbled to one another as they turned and went back to their cars and vans.
 

* * * *

While Pastor Quillerman was outside, no one in the house moved from where they were when he left.
 

George was sitting at the dining room table with his head in his hands, eyes hidden from the dull, glaring light that shined in through the sliding glass door behind him.
 

Karen was leaning against the lip of the kitchen counter with Monroe in her arms, stroking the agitated cat and making soft, soothing noises.
 

Robby and Jen stood quietly in the living room, staring out at the reporters.
 

A bit earlier, Pastor Quillerman had explained to the family everything Robby already knew about Lorelle Dupree and, once again, Robby had been surprised that the pastor knew everything Ronald Prosky had known. Quillerman seemed to take it all in stride, as if this sort of thing happened all the time. Of course, it
didn't
. It
couldn't
. But Robby couldn't shake the feeling that it happened more often than he wanted to imagine and that more people were aware of creatures like Lorelle Dupree than he wanted to know.
 

According to the material Prosky had given Robby, Lilith had given birth to as many as a hundred infants an hour ... but for how many hours? How many were out there? The possibilities made Robby feel very small and vulnerable.
 

As Quillerman headed back up the walk, Robby whispered, "I told him everything, you know."
 

Jen's head snapped toward him. "You mean ... about us?
Everything
?"
 

"Everything."
 

Quillerman came inside and beckoned Jen and Robby to follow him into the kitchen.
 

"I spoke to them," he said, "but I doubt it will do any good. Once they’ve found a story, reporters are a little like ants and roaches – impossible to get rid of, because if one goes, there's always another to replace it. So, I guess we'll just have to do this in front of them."
 

Until that moment, Quillerman had gotten virtually no reaction from the family. There had been a few monosyllabic responses and odd facial expressions, but mostly they'd avoided his gaze and remained silent. But then:

"Do, uh...do what in front of them?" George asked from the table, lifting his head slowly. His face looked heavy, the skin sagged and drooped beneath his eyes and along his jawline.
 

"Deal with this problem we've been talking about here," Quillerman replied.
 

George stood. "Well,
we
haven't exactly been talking.
You've
been talking. And we've listened to your, um ... your story. Now I think you should go."
 

Quillerman's eye moved from George to Jen to Robby to Karen and back to George again. "You know," he said quietly, "you've been coming to church all these years and I've never been here to your house. I've never invited you to
my
house. I know pastors of other churches who know each and every member of their congregations well. They see them socially. They are considered friends of the family. Unfortunately, I am not made of the same cloth. Of my many faults, I'm afraid my greatest is the distance I tend to keep between myself and the members of my congregation. If I were closer to my congregation, perhaps I would have seen this coming. I might have been able to prevent your involvement. “

“Mr. Pritchard, what’s happening here is not something you can dismiss. It will eat you alive if you let it. You've already allowed it into your home, then into your mind, and the next step is –"
 

"Pastor," Karen said, still cradling Monroe in her arms, "we appreciate your concern, but the idea of Lorelle Dupree being a ... a
demon
is –"
 

"Crazy? I suppose it does sound crazy. But the world is full of things that sound crazy. That doesn’t make them any less real. But we have protected ourselves from them, shut them out so we aren’t exposed to them. So much of what we do is just an effort to shut out all the things that seem crazy ... or scary. We’ve created religion, ritual, tradition ... even the family is a protective measure, a way of insulating ourselves from the frightening darkness beyond the glow of our fires. I, of course, play a part in that insulation. Religion is one of the things people turn to for comfort and reassurance when they get a glimpse of the unknown. In the end, all we really have is each other. And that’s why I’m here. Your neighbor knows this. She is pitting you against each other right now, and you will – “
 

”
Get the fuck out of my house
!" George roared, taking a couple of steps toward Quillerman.
 

Dead silence fell over the room as the pastor stared at him, a look of satisfaction on his face, then: "You see?" he whispered. "This is not how you normally behave, George.” He looked around at all of them. “This is not how any of you behave. Can’t you see what she’s doing to you?”
 

George's fists were clenched and trembling at his sides. He opened his mouth to shout something again, but Robby spoke up quickly.
 

"Dad, you
know
it's true! She tore a hole in your bedroom wall. She
flew
through your bedroom wall! She
chased
me! She's not human, Dad, and you know it." He looked at Karen and Jen, too. "We
all
know it. So why don't we
admit
it and stop letting her
do
this to us!"