VIII
Still psychically linked with the murderous creatures he had summoned from the pit, Lavelle drummed his heels on the mattress and clawed at the dark air. He was pouring sweat; the sheets were soaked, but he was not aware of that.
He could smell the Dawson children. They were very close.
The time had almost come. Just minutes now. A short wait. And then the slaughter.
IX
Jack finished his brandy, put the glass on the coffee table, and said, “There's a big hole in your explanation.”
“And what's that?” Hampton asked.
“If Lavelle can't harm me because I'm a righteous man, then why can he hurt my kids? They're not wicked, for God's sake. They're not sinful little wretches. They're damned good kids.”
“In the view of the gods, children can't be considered righteous; they're simply innocent. Righteousness isn't something we're born with; it's a state of grace we achieve only through years of virtuous living. We become righteous people by consciously choosing good over evil in thousands of situations in our day-to-day lives.”
“Are you telling me that God — or all the benevolent gods, if you'd rather put it that way — protects the righteous but not the innocent?”
“Yes.”
“Innocent little children are vulnerable to this monster Lavelle, but I'm not? That's outrageous, unfair, just plain wrong.”
“You have an overly keen sense of injustice, both real and imagined. That's because you're a righteous man.”
Now it was Jack who could no longer sit still. While Hampton slumped contentedly in an armchair, Jack paced in his bare feet. “Arguing with you is goddamned frustrating!”
“This is my field, not yours. I'm a theologist, not legitimized by a degree from any university, but not merely an amateur, either. My mother and father were devout Roman Catholics. In finding my own beliefs, I studied every religion, major and minor, before becoming convinced of the truth and efficacy of voodoo. It's the only creed that has always accommodated itself to other faiths; in fact, voodoo absorbs and uses elements from every religion with which it comes into contact. It is a synthesis of many doctrines that usually war against one another — everything from Christianity and Judaism to sun-worship and pantheism. I am a man of religion, Lieutenant, so it's to be expected that I'll tie you in knots on this subject.”
“But what about Rebecca, my partner? She was bitten by one of these creatures, but she's not, by God, a wicked or corrupt person.”
“There are degrees of goodness, of purity. One can be a good person and not yet truly righteous, just as one can be righteous and not yet be a saint. I've met Miss Chandler only once, yesterday. But from what I saw of her, I suspect she keeps her distance from people, that she has, to some degree, withdrawn from life.”
“She had a traumatic childhood. For a long time, she's been afraid to let herself love anyone or form any strong attachments.”
“There you have it,” Hampton said. “One can't earn the favor of the
Jack was standing at the hearth, warming himself in the heat of the gas fire — until the leaping flames suddenly reminded him of the goblins' eye sockets. He turned away from the blaze. “Just supposing I am a righteous man, how does that help me find Lavelle?”
“We must recite certain prayers,” Hampton said. “And there's a purification ritual you must undergo. When you've done those things, the gods of
“Then let's not waste any more time. Come on. Let's get started.”
Hampton rose from his chair, a mountain of a man. “Don't be too eager or too fearless. It's best to proceed with caution.”
Jack thought of Rebecca and the kids in the car, staying on the move to avoid being trapped by the goblins, and he said, “Does it matter whether I'm cautious or reckless? I mean, Lavelle can't harm me.”
“It's true that the gods have provided you with protection from sorcery, from all the powers of darkness. Lavelle's skill as a
X
Rebecca was on Fifth Avenue when the thumping and rattling in the car's undercarriage began again. It was louder this time, loud enough to wake the kids. And it wasn't just beneath them, any more; now, it was also coming from the front of the car, under the hood.
Davey stood up in back, holding onto the front seat, and Penny sat up straight and blinked the sleep out of her eyes and said, “Hey, what's that noise?”
“I guess we're having some sort of mechanical trouble,” Rebecca said, although the car was running well enough.
“It's the goblins,” Davey said in a voice that was half filled with terror and half with despair.
“It can't be them,” Rebecca said.
Penny said, “They're under the hood.”
“No,” Rebecca said. “We've been moving around steadily since we left the garage. There's no way they could have gotten into the car. No way.”
“Then they were there even in the garage,” Penny said.
“No. They'd have attacked us right there.”
“Unless,” Penny said, “maybe they were afraid of Daddy.”
“Afraid he could stop them,” Davey said.
“Like he stopped the one that jumped on you,” Penny said to her brother, “the one outside Aunt Faye's place.”
“Yeah. So maybe the goblins figured to hang under the car and just wait till we were alone.”
“Till Daddy wasn't here to protect us.”
Rebecca knew they were right. She didn't want to admit it, but she knew.
The clattering in the undercarriage and the thumping-rattling under the hood increased, became almost frantic.
“They're tearing things apart,” Penny said.
“They're gonna stop the car!” Davey said.
“They'll get in,” Penny said. “They'll get in at us, and there's no way to stop them.”
“Stop it!” Rebecca said. “We'll come out all right. They won't get us.”
On the dashboard, a red warning light came on. In the middle of it was the word OIL.
The car had ceased to be a sanctuary.
Now it was a trap.
“They won't get us. I swear they won't,” Rebecca said again, but she said it as much to convince herself as
