CHAPTER 5

 

 

The father pushed me back onto the couch, and stooped beside the box. Only a little bit of mist spewed from the lid. There wasn't enough for the red clawed hand to bother with. Father Malone gently picked up the box and sat down in his old chair. He set the box on his lap and smiled.

"See? A gentle hand and patience are rewarded," he told me.

I slid down the back of the couch and frowned. "I just wish we knew if this would work."

The father tilted his head to one side and studied me. "How did you happen to come to know Roland?" he wondered.

I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

He shrugged. "We have time to kill."

I snorted. "I thought priests were supposed to refrain from murder."

Malone smiled. "Generally speaking, but I am curious. How did you meet him?"

"He just sort of floated into my life," I admitted.

"Might I take that literally?" he asked me.

"Only if you promise not to stake him," I returned.

He raised an eyebrow and glanced down at the box. "I see. Roland is quite an unusual person, isn't he?"

"You have no-" I jumped when my phone rang in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw it was from Candy. "Do you mind-?"

"By all means," he invited me.

"Hello?" I answered.

Candy's voice was an octave higher than usual. "Misty,whatthehell'sgoingonatthediner?" she asked me. "TheplaceisclosedupandIcan'tgetaholdofRalphandthereareabunchofflyingfishinthere."

"Breathe, Candy, and slow down," I pleaded. "I can't understand a word you're saying."

She took a deep breath and breathed out. "I wanted to know what happened to the diner. It's closed up and I can't get a hold of Ralph and there's a bunch of floating things in there that look like fish and should I call the policeoristhisnormalwhatamI-"

"Candy, another deep breath," I instructed her.

She breathed in enough oxygen to support a third-world country for a year and breathed out. "What in the world is going on?"

"Ralph's not feeling well, so the place is closed up. If anybody's going to be poisoning people at the diner, he wants to be a part of it," I told her.

"What about those fish?" she asked me.

"It's a prank somebody pulled on Ralph, and he didn't get the joke," I explained.

"Those don't look like a prank," she argued. "They look really real."

I forced myself to laugh. "Oh, come on. It's not like the diner is haunted and needs. . .an. . .exorcist." My eyes slowly swiveled over to Father Malone who sat innocently cradling the Devil's box.

"Hello? Misty, are you still there? What was that about the diner?" Candy asked me.

I continued to stare at Father Malone as a crazy idea formed in my mind. "Never mind, it's not important. How about you go back home? Ralph'll call you when the place opens back up."

"All right, but if you see him first you tell him I'm taking my vacation time starting now," she told me.

"Sure, sure. Talk to you later," I replied. I hung up and leaned forward towards the priest. "You don't happen to have any other hidden skills besides boxing, do you?"

"I know how to knit," he admitted.

"I'm talking more of the paranormal kind," I replied.

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid I don't follow."

I held up the phone. "That was my coworker telling me the diner that I work at is still possessed by dead devil fish."

He blinked at me. "You have shown me a great many things that have stretched my knowledge and belief in the supernatural world, but I must admit my belief can't stretch that far."

"Then get ready for another stretch because these fish things are real, and they're going to ruin my boss' life if we don't do something about them," I told him.

"Is your employer a godly man?" he wondered.

"No, but he signs my paychecks, and in my book that makes him just a step below God," I quipped. "Anyway, it'll ruin my day if I have to start looking for another job. That's why I need your help."

"But how can I help?" he asked me.

"I want you to exorcise the fish, and I'm not talking about taking them for a walk," I revealed.

"I'm afraid my skills don't extend to that area," he admitted.

I nodded at the box that sat in his lap. "If you can tame that savage beast you can try to save some possessed soles."

A smile slipped onto his face. "I suppose there's no harm in trying." He paused and furrowed his brow. "Is there?"

I shrugged. "You do have to dodge the pots and pans, and the place smells really bad, but the fish aren't really dangerous."

Father Malone stood and carefully slipped the soul box into my bag. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Father Malone was still without a car, so I drove him to the diner. The parking lot was deserted, a depressing view at the noon hour, and the blinds in the windows were shut. I parked in the back and led the father up the stairs to the rear door. I'd forgotten to return Roland's skeleton key, so we had easy access to the kitchen.

"Hang on to your collar," I warned him as I swung open the door.

The door opened to reveal the chaotic scene from the night before, but with a fresh dose of nasty-smelling air. The stench was a mix of dead skunk, a sewer treatment plant, and the guy's locker room after a particularly muddy football game. The smell wafted over us like an unwanted ex at a frat party. I clapped my hand over my nose and even the good father cringed.

"Lord give me strength. . ." I heard him mutter.

"And a lot of dumb luck," I added as I boldly stepped inside first.

Father Malone followed and we stood shoulder to shoulder beside each other. We both tilted our heads back and looked at the ceiling. The school of fish floated in a lazy circle near the stained tiles. Their crates sat on the floor beneath them covered in rotten food and broken pots and pans.

"So what do you think?" I asked him without moving my head.

"I believe I will refrain from fish this Lent," he commented.

"I meant about the problem," I rephrased.

"There is certainly otherworldly forces at work here," he told me.

"Think you can use that prayer of yours and see if you can exorcise it?" I asked him.

"I can certainly attempt it," he offered.

Father Malone handed me the bag with the soul box and moved to the middle of the room. The fish took notice of his presence by floating lower so they spiraled just above his head. He clasped his hands together and bowed his head.

"Our Father who-" He'd hardly hit the 'who' part when one of the fish sailed down and used its tail to smack him on the cheek.

Father Malone stumbled back only to be attacked by another fish. His turned cheek was slapped. The other hundred floated down and readied their tails. The process would have been repeated ad infinitum if he hadn't ducked the next block and hurried back to my side near the door.

"You think they might prefer the Latin version?" I suggested.

He rubbed his cheek and frowned. "I will try."

The father stepped forward and clasped his hands again. That was as far as he got before the fish, evidently atheistic, flew at him. He ducked and dodged, but they got in a couple of good slaps that rang through the kitchen. Father Malone picked up a large frying pan and used it as a guard. He tried to get back to me, but they barred his path.

"Maybe another prayer?" I suggested. I winced when one came up behind him and knocked him on the back of his head.

He spun around and knocked the fish away. It tumbled for a few feet before it righted itself and flew back at him. At the same time another half dozen got in a few more whacks. In a few seconds he was covered in splattered dead fish goo and moldy food from the refrigerator.

One of the fish slammed into his face and knocked him back towards the swinging doors. Father Malone straightened and glared at the offending fish.

"Lord forgive me, but to hell with these foul creatures," he snapped.

Father Malone tossed down the frying pan and threw a punch. It landed square against the flat side of a nearby sole fish. The fish stiffened and fell to the floor where it lay there like a frozen tuna. The other soles scattered, but the good father had good aim and he knocked them down one at a time until there were known standing. Er, floating. They lay in stiff piles with their backs twisted, and their mouths and eyes wide open in surprise.

Father Malone stood in triumph over the lost soles. He gasped for breath and slime dripped from his red knuckles.

"I guess they needed the prayer beaten into them," I quipped.

Father Malone stood straight and coughed. "Perhaps, but what are we to do now?"

I nodded at the crates. "They came in those, so let's hope for a miracle and see if they fit back in their packaging. Then we can get them in my car."

"And then?" he wondered.

"Then we wait for Roland to wake up and tell us what to do next," I replied.

A few minutes and a lot of dead fish tossing later the crates were full and their lids were nailed down. We stepped back and admired our work of the twelve crates piled in the trunk and back seat of my car. The car was backed up to the rear door.

"Are your days generally this exciting?" Father Malone asked me.

I shook my head. "No, the days are my break. The nights are when things get fun, like that one phantom lady."

"How did that end?" he wondered as he looked me over with a teasing smile on his face. "I hope you weren't turned into a phantom."

I grinned and patted my stomach. "I could use the weight loss, but Roland and I kind of made her explode."

He raised an eyebrow. "That's possible?"

"Yeah. She got so mad at seeing her husband married to their servant that she blew up," I explained.

He chuckled. "A pity the church doesn't know of such a trick."

"Yeah, well, I wish I knew a trick to get rid of these fish," I commented as I sat down on the rear door steps.

Father Malone joined me. "You haven't any idea who sent the fish?"

"Well, there's some sort of a connection between the fish and a guy we both know," I told him.

"Do we?" he wondered.

"Yeah. Let's just say it's not the guy you work for," I explained.

Both his eyebrows shot up. "You mean-?"

"Yeah. Red tail and all," I confirmed.

He pursed his lips. "You certainly have a formidable foe."

I snorted. "You're telling me. I just wish I had his address so I could drop these fish back on him."

"Surely he has some location or representative that is used as his base of operations, as it were," Father Malone mused.

My eyes widened and I snapped my fingers. "That's it!" I leaned over and gave the father a hug. "You're a life saver!"

Father Malone chuckled as I released him. "A priest can receive no higher praise."

I had a plan. Now all I needed was an undead partner to put it into action.