Ursula was in the middle of a sentence when she heard the bell on the front door tinkle. She scowled at her screen, typing madly to get her thought down before she lost it forever. Whoever had come into the shop could just cool their heels. It couldn’t hurt. If she let them wander around on their own they might be seduced into buying something. Gods knew she needed the cash. Sales had been slow, lately and she hadn’t sold a story in ages.
She clicked the save icon, trying to recall the last time she had dusted the display cases. Another click replaced the text screen with a slide show of pastoral scenes set to soft choral voices singing nonsense, just in case she managed to talk them into the back of the shop for a private reading. People expected theater with their fortunes.
Rising from her low stool, Ursula slipped her bare feet into her sandals and tugged at her dress, smoothing the wrinkles from the skirt as best she could. Just before she passed through the velvet curtains that guarded her inner domain, she remembered to pull the scrunchy out of her hair, tossing it into a convenient basket on a nearby table while she shook out her pony tail.
An old woman stood in the center of Ursula’s small shop, dressed all in black, in a style that had been popular decades ago. Widow’s weeds, thought Ursula, clothes worn as a public badge of mourning. But who did that anymore? Certainly no one on this continent in the last century. The woman was a puzzle. Everything about her was jarringly out of place, from the perfect coil of silver hair caught up with tortoise shell combs, to the real silk stockings and the expensive leather shoes on her feet, to the matching purse over one arm. Yet here she stood, in a seedy little shop just off the edge of the busiest market district in the city’s vast urban landscape, out of place, out of time, stiff as a board and pinched face, as if she had just caught a whiff of something rotten and feared it might be on the bottom of her shoe. Ursula paused, admiring the single minded determination it took to be so untainted by modern sensibilities. She was a true monument, this lady, to the indomitable human spirit.
“May I help you?” Ursula asked, gliding out of the shadows at the back of the shop.
The old woman turned, a frigidly polite mask replacing the look of disapproval. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but that was the only hint the woman gave to indicate her surprise. Ursula expected this, though it always puzzled her. Were they surprised because she did not look the part of a fortune teller? Perhaps it was her Nordic coloring or perhaps it was the fact that age had yet to leave its harsh mark on her face, nor done more than frost her hair a lighter shade of pale. Ursula looked at herself in one of the many mirrors that lined the shop walls. Maybe it was her wardrobe. A breezy sundress covered in giant white hibiscus flowers printed on a field of scarlet was probably a bit overwhelming for someone in deep mourning.
“I am an educated woman. I have been to the best schools. I do not believe in this,” said the woman informed Ursula, gesturing regally to include the sum total of the room.
Ursula glanced around, wondering what had offended the old woman the most. Was it the naked terracotta women on the wall, dancing joyfully with light feet and round bellies, their breast ripe as melons? Was it the cases full of semiprecious crystal balls, athames, witches herbs, sweet grass braids, sage bundles and amulets? Was it the tarot cards and rune books? Was it the ancient stone frieze depicting the birth of the world in Mayan glyphs or the parchment paintings of Mayan snake gods devouring their human offerings? Was it the dark stare of Anubis peering out from the alcoves papered in pages from the Book of the Dead? No, that was too mundane. Perhaps it was the African fertility totems set strategically under the down lights to illuminate their wooden erections? It surely could not be the countless demon masks collected from all the island cultures of the Pacific rim that snarled down from every wall, for few except their artists knew their true purpose. To be quite truthful, if it had been Ursula standing there, it would have been the prices that induced such a look. Everything in her shop was outrageously overpriced.
“Well,” shrugged Ursula, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “I have been to University, too. It did not take. They did not teach what I needed to learn, so I had to find other teachers. What can I do for you?”
The woman pressed her lips together, loathe to say what she needed to say.
“Would you like a reading, perhaps? I can throw your cards,” Ursula suggested helpfully.
“I do not believe in the gypsy arts. They are for the weak minded and the easily fooled,” the old woman said angrily.
“There are many charlatans in the practice, that is true,” Ursula agreed, clasping her hands together so as to appear non-threatening.
“There are no crucifixes or crosses on your walls,” the old lady accused. “Where are your Madonnas?”
Ursula raised her eyes and looked around. That was a fair criticism. The only icons were of the star and circle nature. No crosses were allowed here, no figures that glorified pain, no paintings that encouraged the perversion of the Divine Feminine. “Perhaps I have too many bad memories of being brutalized in the presence of such objects. I find no comfort in them. If you need religious artifacts, I can give you the address of a store with good quality merchandise.”
“Your family was Catholic, then?” the old woman asked hopefully, as if this was a trait that made Ursula less alien and therefore less threatening. Ursula pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. Of all the things that defined her, being indoctrinated by a death obsessed religion was not even a blip on the radar of her identity.
“As a matter of fact, they were, but I was referring to all my past lives. I have ten thousand years of memories. Modern religions do not fare well in any of them.”
The woman’s mouth opened and then snapped closed, her lips disappearing into tight lipped anger. Ursula gave herself a mental shake. It did her bottom line no good if she purposefully baited her potential clients before they had the opportunity to opened up their pocket books. Usually she was kinder but something about the old lady set her teeth on edge. Ursula was damned if she was going to play toady to her regal rudeness. She cocked her head and waited. If given half a chance maybe she could get the woman to shake off all the baggage that went with her obvious wealth and power and remember that she was human.
“You are quite rude. I wonder that you have any clients at all,” the woman sniffed arrogantly, when it became apparent that Ursula was socially challenged.
“Yeah. Well, you’d be surprised,” Ursula said dryly.
The woman lifted her chin and stared down her nose at Ursula, her eyes retreating behind a wall of pride. Ursula caught the hint of just how much pain she kept in there, in the dark, alone behind all those walls. Ursula, while pitying her, betrayed nothing and continued waiting.
“My name is Alexandra Fox,” the woman said at last. “You were recommended by Father Harris, the priest at San Ignacio’s. He said you might be able to help me.”
Ursula grimaced. She did not like priests, as a general rule and Father Harris least of all. If Pablo Harris had sent this woman here, then the old woman’s situation must be very ugly indeed.
Only a fool would get involved. A very curious fool.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Ursula said, stepping close to offer her hand. The Alexandra Fox stared down at it, nonplussed at its presence. After a moment she extended her fingers gingerly. Ursula took the cold hand into hers, palm to palm, enclosing the thin, fragile bones in the heat of her own and shook it gently. You could tell so much about people by their hands. Alexandra did not use those hands for anything manual or mundane. She had people. People who did things for her. People who cleaned up her messes. Ursula looked up into her eyes as Alexandra jerked her hand away and hid it behind her.
“Father Harris,” Ursula prompted in the uncomfortable silence. “Surely he had nothing good to say of me. I am surprised that he sent you here.”
“He said you would surely go to hell when you die, but that would not be for a very long time, as Satan did not need the headache, just yet,” Alexandra said, watching Ursula’s reaction to that insult.
Ursula laughed. “Too true. Father Harris is a canny old bastard. Give him my regards next time you see him.”
“I do not think he wants to hear about what goes on between you and I. The Church’s policy on exorcism is not popular in the public press these days.”
Exorcism. Ursula bit her lip, dismay and disgust warring inside her. She might have known. Pablo Harris knew his limits. He only served those of his congregation whose problems could be handled through blind faith and prayer, which left the other 50% to healers such as herself. She studied the old woman and toyed with the idea of tossing her out of her shop. This could turn into a big payday, and as attractive as that thought was, no amount of money made exorcisms palatable. Ursala ground her teeth and silently cursed the priest and all his ilk. Ursula turned away, letting her eyes wander over the masks on the walls, weighing her options. In the end, it was not the woman’s obvious need but the stack of unpaid bills sitting on her desk in the back room that tipped the scales.
“Exorcism, is it?” Ursula said brightly. “Are you sure you do not need a doctor or a psychiatrist, instead?”
“We have been to see many men with walls full of degrees and diplomas but none of them have cured my granddaughter. She is dying from something they refuse to acknowledge.”
“So,” sighed Ursula, almost to herself, “you have left it until the very end, when the choice is death or dancing with the devil, is that it? Why can it never be sooner? Now I must deal with a failing body as well as a failing spirit.”
“I have her medical records, here,” Alexandra said, reaching into her purse.
“Stop,” Ursula said, throwing up her hands. “Keep them. I do want need to see them.”
Alexandra paused and looked up, surprised.
Ursula shrugged apologetically. “If an exorcism is truly needed, no medical history can help me. If it is not, I will let you know and attempt to heal what can be healed. Imbalances in brain chemistry are a very tricky thing and the healing might take years. What do the parents think of my coming to see their daughter?”
“They will do as I say,” Alexandra said. From her tone, it was apparent that she ruled her children with an iron will.
Ursula raised an eyebrow.
“I control the purse strings,” the old lady said firmly. “If they want to see a dime more of my money, they will do as I say.”
“How old is your granddaughter?”
“She just turned eleven.”
Female. Early onset puberty was probably causing an identity crisis exacerbated by a hormonally induced chemical imbalance. Ursula already had the bill written up in her head, with a fee under ‘additional expenses’ to cover her annoyance factor.
“Perhaps we should enlist Father Harris’s help. He might be useful in keeping the parents calm while I work.” A smile tugged at the corner of Ursula’s mouth. It would be fair revenge, to enlist his aide with the parents after he had tried so hard to dodge this toxic bullet.
Ursula crossed the room and stepped behind the counter that held a computer station and a phone. She found Pablo Harris’s cell phone number in her client database, picked up the phone and dialed.
“This is Father Harris,” the priest said brusquely.
“Guess who is standing in my waiting room, you old fraud?”
“Ursula? God, she didn’t waste any time. I only gave her your name this morning.”
“Yeah, go figure, what with her grandchild dying and all,” Ursula said dryly. “What is the deal with the parents?”
“I only see them on Holy Days of Obligation, and I think that is because Mrs. Fox browbeats them into coming. The little girl comes every Sunday with her grandmother but not lately.”
“I wasn’t asking about their faith. Are they going to be a pain in my arse if I take this job on?”
“I think they are the source of just about everything that is wrong with the family, if that’s what you mean.”
“That’s exactly what I mean. I am thinking I will need you to keep the parents occupied while I work.”
Pablo swore softly. “You know I am not a certified exorcist. Ever since that fiasco in Germany, priests need to go up the chain of command almost to the Pope to get permission to even pretend they know anything about demon possession. It will be my head if the church got wind of my participation in any of your unholy rituals.”
“You don’t even have to be in the same room. I just want you to accidentally show up and help Mrs. Fox contain the parents. It would be unfortunate if they walked into the room at the wrong time. And before you answer, let me remind you that you owe me a favor.”
There was a long pause.
“Fine. But we need to do it quick and quiet. This cannot get out and if it does, I will deny everything.”
“Same here. My reputation will be crap if it gets out that I hang around with priests. I am going to put you on speaker phone so that between the three of us we can come up with a good day and time. Ready?” Ursula pressed a button and replaced the phone in its cradle. “You’re on.”
“Alexandra,” said the priest, “Are you still determined to go through with this?”
“My granddaughter is dying,” Alexandra said to the room. “I need something done. Now is not soon enough.”
“I can have Father McGuire take my place at the Parish Counsel meeting tonight. He and Sister Bernadette can usually keep the power players from bleeding the coffers dry. After dinner, then?” suggested Father Harris. Ursula looked up at Alexandra, hoping she would say no. The old woman nodded.
Ursula suppressed a snarl while she brought up her schedule on the computer screen. “I’ve got book club tonight,” she said, shaking her head regretfully. Alexandra Fox gave her a grim stare. Well, fine, Ursula sniffed to herself. The bill just got padded with a ‘rush’ fee. “Uh. OK. I guess I can bail. The book sucked anyway. Eight o’clock, then, Pablo? Alexandra will give you the address,” Ursula said, glancing at the time as she revised her evening schedule in her head. Six hours. By all the gods, she hated being rushed. She would not be eating, of course. The nausea was already climbing up her throat. If this was a true demonic possession she would go to bed tonight with a migraine after puking her guts up.
***
Ursula pushed the button on the intercom unit set inside the portico of the large stone house. The beauty of the ornate carving in the stone arch and the intricate patterns in the massive wooden doors was ruined by a very ugly security gate and the wiring conduits that fed the intercom and the security cameras set high up out of reach of thieves and scavengers. While she waited, Ursula turned to admire the tree lined avenue full of other large stone houses. Old money lived here, old money soaked in the pain of its victims. Ursula did not envy any of it.
A stocky woman with a face like a Mayan statue answered the door. She might have been thirty or she might have been sixty. It was hard to tell with such flawless genetics. She, like Alexandra, dressed in elegant black, though her dress and shoes were more utilitarian than fashionable. Less than companion and more than maid, Ursula surmised.
“My name is Ursula Domino. Mrs. Fox is expecting me.”
“Yes, miss,” the woman said, in heavily accented English. “She said to bring you right up.”
“Has Father Harris arrived?”
“Yes, miss.”
Ursula’s guide led her around the staircase to an elevator. She pushed the button and then waited patiently while eying Ursula out of the corner of her eye.
“Do you take care of the granddaughter?” Ursula asked.
“Miss Olivia? Yes, miss. The nanny and the tutors were let go months ago.”
“How is Olivia tonight?”
“Restless, miss. She knows you are coming even though no one has told her.”
Ursula grunted. That was not a good sign. The elevator arrived. They both got in. The maid pushed the button for the third floor.
“Why do you think Olivia is ill?” Ursula asked.
“It is not my place to say,” the maid said carefully.
“Why do you think Father Harris cannot help her?”
“The Christian god is very young.”
“Ah,” Ursula nodded, unable to control her grin. “In other words, there are things far older than human that walk this planet. You are very wise. What do you advise I do about Olivia?”
“In my village, we would take the demon possessed into the mountains. If they found their way home, they were meant to live.”
“Huh,” Ursula sobered, “I’ll bet very few ever came home.”
“No, but it was not meant to be,” the maid said with a shrug as the door slid open.
Ursula followed her to a doorway at the end of the hall. The maid knocked quietly, then opened the door into a sitting room papered in pink rose buds. Overstuffed chairs covered in muted floral fabric anchored the center of the room. The rest was a chaos of shelves and baskets full of toys, books, and crafting supplies. A child’s drawings were taped everywhere. Father Harris and Mrs. Fox sat silently in the chairs, the unrelieved black of both their outfits sucking the light out of the room. Ursula, dressed from head to toe in scarlet, clashed horribly with the pastel palette of the room.
“Miss Domino, ma’am,” the maid announced to the room. Ursula stepped into the room. The maid retreated, pulling the doors closed with a soft click. The finality of the sound sent a shiver down Ursual’s spine. She tugged her shawl around her and nodded to Mrs. Fox and Father Harris, choosing to ignore their disapproving looks. Instead, she studied the darkly dressed couple hovered in the background. They were young, the woman surely not yet thirty, the man perhaps a few years older. It was hard to tell. His addictions were aging him prematurely. They were dressed in formal evening clothes and stood guard near a set of doors that led further into the apartment. The man looked angry, the woman close to tears. Heated words had already passed between the occupants of the room, it seemed.
“Good evening, Miss Domino,” Alexandra said. “This is my son, Guillermo and his wife Anna. They have been informed of the purpose of your visit.”
“Hello,” Ursula said. “You can call me Ursula. Is the child in there?” Ursula gestured to the doors. An animal howled somewhere beyond them. Nice effect, Ursula thought wryly, careful to keep any reaction from her face. The father looked away, embarrassed. The mother shuddered and pressed her hands against her cheeks.
“She does not want to see you,” Anna said, a note of hysteria in her voice. Guillermo graced the room with a haughty sneer and looked away again. Ursula looked at Father Harris expectantly.
“We have been over this, Miss Anna,” Pablo Harris said calmly.
“She has been through so much. Why can you not leave her be?” Anna shouted, as if volume alone would win her argument after reason had failed. The priest rose and crossed to the young woman, trying to calm her with soft words. Ursula was starting to dislike the parents a great deal. It made her want to hurt them.
She looked at the husband.
“Your mother seems to think Olivia is demon possessed. Do you disagree with her assessment?”
“My mother is,” he growled, teeth clenched around his pent up rage. He stopped, looking in Alexandra’s direction. What ever he wanted to say did not get said. “My mother is a woman of deep faith,” he said, evenly. “I envy the certainty it gives her.”
“Do you have an alternate explanation to her belief?”
“The drugs were working,” Guillermo said. It was a plea directed at his mother.
“Drug induce catatonia is not what I want for Olivia,” Alexandra snapped. Her annoyance spoke of old arguments gone stale. Ursula did not wish to hear them aired again in her presence.
“I do not care, to perfectly honest,” she said firmly, cutting the debate off at the knees. “I just wanted to make sure you were clear on why I was here. I am going to go into that room alone. I am going to lock the door behind me. If, in fact, your daughter is possessed and I can do nothing about it, I will come out of that room with one of three recommendations. One of them, the worse case scenario, will be that you lock your daughter up in an institution for the criminally insane for the rest of her life. Are you prepared to follow my advice?”
Anna cried out and Father Harris hugged her to his chest as she began to weep.
“God!” cried Guillermo in agony, “this is my child you talk about.”
“You are still young,” Ursula said coldly. “Have another. Have ten more. Adopt. Become foster parents. Answer my question. Are you prepared for the worst?”
“You are a heartless monster,” Guillermo hissed.
“Yes, I am. I will not deny that. Shall I tell you what the other two options will be? Either your child is a religious zealot or she is a very emotionally damaged child. One will require years of reprogramming. The other will require years of family therapy. Are you willing to go to a professional and spill all your dirty little secrets so that your child might have some semblance of hope for a normal future?”
“They will do what is necessary,” Alexandra Fox said coldly. Ursula turned her head and noted the iron will behind the old woman’s eyes.
“All right,” Ursula said to the old woman. “Then I will warn you that if she is indeed possessed and if I am successful there will be consequences. The transition could very possibly kill her body. This would be a kindness. Or the reverse might happen. The demon might leap back across the Veil, but tangled in her spirit as it is, it might take her with it, leaving an empty husk with only a heart beat but no brain activity. This would be less than kind but only for those of you whom she leaves behind. Prepare yourselves for this.”
Anna whimpered but Alexandra ignore her, hunched over and lost in her own world of pain. Ursula looked at the old woman and waited. Alexandra looked up to find herself under scrutiny. She lifter her chin and threw her shoulders back.
“When my granddaughter first learned to talk,” Alexandra said softly, “she would bring me her favorite toys to share with me, because she thought I needed to smile more. She did not merely walk, she danced. She sang songs that she made up in her head all day long. She has not sung one note since…..” Alexandra’s voice began to shake with the emotion behind her words. She paused, but when she continued, her voice was strong and determined. “I want that back. I want to hear singing in my house again. Do what you must.”
“Fine,” Ursula said, nodding. “No matter what you hear, I need you to promise to stay out of that room until I come out.” Ursula looked pointedly at the parents.
“I will not leave my child alone with you,” hissed Anna, her face contorted into a snarl.
“I see you were ready to go out, tonight,” Ursula said acidly, “leaving your child alone in the dark with something so heinous she has gone insane trying to deal with it.”
“That is not fair,” shouted Guillermo angrily. Anna paled but did not protest.
“No, it is not. But it is true. Which tells me where your priorities lie. Please do not waste my time pretending to be a good parent. Let me ask again. Will you let me do my job?”
Guillermo scowled and looked away, a pout on his lips. Ursula took this as an assent. She crossed to the doors, empty handed, and pulled them open.
An emaciated child in a filthy flannel nightgown sat on a stained mattress in the center of the room. A shadow hung about her, turning her face pale and her eyes into black holes. The room reeked of cleaning solution but underneath that smell was the acrid smell of human waste. The floor had been stripped down to bare wood, the walls devoid of decorations. Tattered blankets lay in a heap in one corner of the room and pieces of plush toys were scattered everywhere, eviscerated and bleeding stuffing. The windows were covered by sturdy wooden shutters instead of curtains. Padlocks kept them closed. Ursula took a big breath and walked into the room, locking the doors behind her.
The little girl watched Ursula intently. Something alien glittered behind her eyes.
“Ah ha,” the demon growled out of the little girl’s throat. “What pathetic soothsayer have they dug up out of the sewers today? Come to pray over me, witch?”
Ursula ignore the insults. Instead she turned towards the nearest wall and began to walk a circle around the room, her fingers trailing lightly over the paint.
“You cannot contain me, witch, with your pathetic circle,” the demon snarled.
“No, I am sure I cannot,” Ursula agreed. Something primordial stirred in the back of her mind. She could feel its coils tense and flex along the length of her spine. It sniffed the air and tasted the walls through her fingers. She pressed it down, trying to contain its excitement. “You are very smart, for a demon. Why did you not pretend to be the little girl? I might have proclaimed you sane and gone away?”
The little girl snarled, a frightening and unnatural expression for such a young face. The thing in Ursula’s mind snarled back and pressed its coils against the walls she had built around it, wishing to be set free. Not yet, she thought, not yet.
“Did not think of that, did you? Too busy being naughty and playing hooligan in a body that is not yours, yes? Not so smart after all, are we?” Ursula said as she completed her circle and turned her full attention towards the child.
“I know you,” the child hissed, “Do you not fear that I will reveal your true nature to the good people in the next room?”
“Be my guest. I am sure your reputation for truth telling and honesty has impressed them all. Make your story truly astounding, that they might fall down in wonder at the fantastical manifestations of the universe. But might I suggest that you convincing them that you are sane, first.”
“I hate you,” cried the child petulantly.
“No, you don’t,” Ursula said kindly. The child pouted. “Tell me one thing before I decide what to do with you.”
“Will you grant me mercy, if I do?” it said, the demon voice grating harshly out of the child’s mouth.
“Mercy? Am I not always merciful? It is you who will determine your fate. Tell me this. Did the girl invite you in or was the husk empty and too inviting a playground to pass up?”
The child glanced over Ursula’s shoulder, towards the doors into the parlor and smiled wickedly. “I never come unless I am called,” it said and then it cackled insanely, obviously amused by its own joke.
Ursula raised an eyebrow and waited silently, while the creature that was her true nature twisted and writhed inside her, wanting to be free. The air turned cold. It was drawing more and more energy out of the room and the environs beyond. The little girl’s breath formed clouds that drifted away on an invisible breeze. Ursula had very little time.
“The truth. I will have it from you,” she insisted, and she let a little bit of the wall slip away, giving the demon a taste of what was about to be. The child screamed, throwing itself away from Ursula, scrabbling across the floor to stop, cowering, in the far corner. Ursula followed.
“Tell me what I need to know,” Ursula insisted.
A sly look crossed the child’s face.
“Little Olivia is in here with me. Do you want to talk to her?”
“No, not really.”
“If you kill me, I will take her with me into the underworld. You will have lost and I will have won,” it crowed in delight.
The thing inside Ursula flicked out a long tongue of bright energy towards the demon, tasting the air.
“Do you think I care for one paltry human?” it purred softly. “Their species is a blight upon this planet. Do with her what you will. I will not negotiate for her life. Did she invite you in, thinking you were a manifestation of her god?”
“They sit in their churches worshiping a tortured demigod, whispering prayers twisted by two thousand years of human vanity. It is all so …. delicious,” the demon whispered, licking its lips hungrily. “The broken ones, the hurt ones, they pray the hardest, with their eyes closed and their hearts wishing for miracles. It is ever so easy to step….”
“So. I have my answer,” thrummed the thing that rose out of Ursula, uncoiling endlessly, spreading its claws to catch at the world and hold it steady. The child cringed, putting its arms over its head.
“Beware the prayers said in despair. The universe will always answer,” whispered the little girl.
“Yes, I know,” the monster said kindly as it expanded to fill the room, devouring everything within.
Ursula came back to herself. The power that had filled her mind was fading and the beginnings of a migraine sent tracers of lightning across her vision.
The child lay like a heap of rags in the corner. Ursula picked her up and laid her on the mattress. With the last vestiges of the waning power, she ran etheric fingers through the child’s body from head to toe. The demon was gone. She chased the remnants of its footprints away with a thought, then set her palm on the frail chest. There was a heart beat but it was soft and irregular. Ursula opened up a channel, letting the child’s body take what it needed.
When Ursula opened the door four pairs of eyes stared at her.
“She still lives,” Ursula said, squinting against the growing pain in her head. Anna broke free from Father Harris’s grip and pushed past Ursula. Ursula ignored her, crossing the parlor, her eyes on the exit.
“Well?” Father Harris prompted her. Ursula turned, confused.
“Well, what?” Ursula she asked, unable to hide her exhaustion. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep for a week. “Oh, yeah. The demon is gone but that does not mean there won’t be others. Get her and the entire family into therapy. Would that I could encourage your church to do the same. Must you teach them the occult without teaching them the tools to manage it? It just boggles my mind, that this has never occurred to the priesthood in all this time.”
“We have had this argument before,” the priest said impatiently. “I cannot undo the Dark Ages, the Crusades, four hundred years of witch burning and Constantine’s apotheistic melding just to save a few hyper religious young girls.”
“No, no, of course not,” Ursula agreed faintly. “Every mega corporation must be prepared for a little collateral damage.” She felt Alexandra’s eyes on her and turned her head to meet the old woman’s glare. There was something she needed to say. What was it? The old woman opened her mouth but Ursula held up a hand to forestall the impending castigation.
“I do not have the energy to listen to denials or claims of innocence. Olivia has been abused. Children who have been loved and nurtured have natural defenses against events such as this. Children who have been hurt, emotionally or physically, not just once, but repeatedly, lose those natural barriers. I do not care who is the perpetrator. It does not matter. Stop it. Fix it. Heal it. My exorbitant fee will be double if I have to return to this house again.”
Ursula turned back towards the exit, her hand reaching for the door handle that would lead her out of this nightmare.
“You assume I will pay this bill,” Alexandra said haughtily. “You were not in there for more than fifteen minutes and you carried no holy oil or holy book. Why should I believe that you did anything at all?”
Ursula looked over her shoulder and met the old woman’s eyes. The monster inside her licked her lips, tasting the air of the room.
“Believe what you want,” Ursula purred, “I will collect in the end. I always do.” She jerked the doors open and strode out. She had no patience for the elevator so she took the stairs, dancing down three flights, the trailing bits of her skirt and shawl flying behind her like wings of a scarlet bird.
The Mayan maid rose from a hard backed chair in the foyer and moved to open the doors for her.
“All is well with Miss Olivia, then?” she asked, her face averted, eyes looking anywhere but into Ursula’s eyes. Ursula smiled, wondering where this woman had acquired her wisdom.
“She will need guarding but I think it is safe to say we do not have to take her into the jungle just yet,” Ursula said. The maid opened the door and held it open for her. A flash of silver at the maid’s wrist drew her eye. Ursula recognized the Mayan glyph in the heavy silver bracelet. “She will need a friend, someone who remembers the old ways,” Ursula added.
The maid glanced up at her face out of the corner of her eye and saw the direction of her gaze.
“Yes, miss,” the maid said calmly.
***
Ursula unlocked the back door to her shop and let herself in. She set the security alarm and then took the stairs to her apartment on the second level. The scarlet shawl dropped to the floor unnoticed, while she undid the fastenings on her dress. She stepped out of it at the foot of the spiral staircase that led up to the roof. At the top, she kicked a doorstop under the security door to prop it open while she struggled to undo her bra one handed. Looking up, she found the stars she needed to orient herself in the night sky. Luck or providence had chosen this night, without clouds or moon. A small jungle of potted plants lined the rim of the roof, effectively screening the center from any human eye. She could be naked up here and no one would notice. Within moments, naked was what she was.
The migraine was a bleeding wound inside her skull. Ursula stumbled into the center of a very complicated star and circle pattern etched into the ancient stone tablets that tiled the roof of her building. Bending over, she retched. After a few dry heaves, the demon came tumbling out, to splatter wetly onto the stone. It squirmed, making soft squelching sounds as it tried to sort itself out. Ursula studied the thing. It was like watching a hole cut into the very fabric of reality. Starlight sparkled along its slime coated sides, otherwise it would have been invisible. It looked like a large toad that had been cross bred with a garden gnome.
“So, I get to live, then?” it croaked.
“What makes you think that?” Ursula asked, pulling a dagger out of thin air.
The demon leaped away but ran into the maze of energy at the edges of her circle and found itself back where it started. It cursed loudly, stomping its froggy feet.
“What is your problem?” it snarled in frustration. “There are nearly 8 billion humans. Can we not share the wealth? You are no different than me, taking bodies and pretending to be human, all the while feasting on the souls. Be a little more understanding, can’t ya?”
“I am nothing like you,” purred the monster with the long forked tongue. The transparent blade flashed in the starlight and found the heart of the transparent demon. Blade and demon imploded into nothingness. “And I don’t share,” Ursula added.
***
Ursula was busy coaxing the imps and dust bunnies out from under a display case when the bells tinkled above the door. She had only just cornered the little demons and was loathe to let them go, so she did not look up right away. Someone cleared their throat politely, trying to get her attention.
“Hang on a minute,” she grunted, jamming the bristles of her broom back into the dark corners. Shadows chittered angrily at her and then scattered, fleeing the sharp tines of her energy. “Ya gotta roust the little buggers out, occasionally, otherwise they think they own the place,” she said brightly, pulling her broom out and shaking off the cobwebs. Looking up she met the intimidating stare of Alexandra Fox. “Oh. It’s you.” Ursula rose to her feet and shook out her skirt. It was black and full of stars. “Come to yell at me about the bill?”
Alexandra said nothing. She simply handed Ursula an envelope. Ursula took it between thumb and forefinger and held it out, away from her body like some long dead mouse discovered behind a bookshelf.
“Dare I look?” Ursula asked, eying the old woman.
“It is a check to cover your invoice, with an added gratuity as a thank you.”
Ursula raised an eyebrow. “How is Olivia doing?”
Alexandra pressed her lips together and looked away for a moment. Ursula sighed. Even with the resiliency of childhood, a full recovery had been too much to hope for.
“I know a few good child psychologists if you wan…..,” Ursula began.
“She sang, this morning,” Alexandra blurted out. “I had given up hope that I would ever hear her speak again, but this morning I heard it. Soft, yet clear. She was singing to herself when she thought no one was listening.” Alexandra bit her lip against the happiness that was trying to break out of the prison inside her heart.
“Uh,” Ursula said, reaching out a hand to awkwardly pat the old woman on the shoulder, “I am happy for you.”
Alexandra glared at her. Ursula hastily withdrew the offending appendage.
“You are a very strange woman, Ursula Domino. Normal people would take more pleasure in accomplishing what you do. “
Ursula shrugged. “Does the good mother take pleasure in knowing how to wring a chicken’s neck or wiping a baby’s bottom? One does what one must. I am not egotistical enough to be proud of that fact.”
“If you advertised your skills, you would have more customers,” Alexandra pointed out.
Ursula smiled enigmatically and extended her hand to the old woman. “I am sure you are right. I will look into that,” she said, knowing she would not.
Alexandra took the offered hand and shook it, recognizing the dismissal.
When the shop was empty, Ursula opened up the envelope and whistled softly at the amount written on the check. The next six months were going to be fat and happy times. She shoved the check into her pocket and picked up her broom again. Something hissed softly at her from the shadows under her cash register.
Ursula smiled in anticipation.
