‘Like too many moderns,’ Todd added. ‘They went straight to the so-called paranormal community instead. Totally skipped the place that could have actually sorted their demon issues out. And just look where secularism got them, a little girl swinging dead on a beam.’ He put his fingers out and swung them back and forth. Swoop, swoop, swoop, swoop. Matt hated the gesture and stared at it. It was the closest he’d come so far in dropping his dumb-eyed neutral look and kicking Todd under the table. But he kept his face benign.
‘It was a very sad situation.’ Jerry sighed and lifted his coffee, only his finger was too crooked for the tiny handle. Matt saw it coming even before it happened. The cup slipped on the tip of his finger and turned a full forty-five degrees. Coffee splurged out across the tabletop. A mini tsunami of froth rushed across the table, waterfalled off the edge, and soaked into Matt’s lap.
He couldn’t help it.
Matt yelped like a Jack Russell dog and jerked back in his chair, both hands slap-wiping the liquid from his burning crotch.
‘Oh, my goodness, I am so sorry.’ Jerry leapt up and pulled his sleeve into his palm, like he might help to wipe.
‘It’s fine. Really.’ Matt stood, staring at the soaked space between his legs. He laughed. ‘It’s alright … I think I’ve only lost feeling in one of them.’
‘Pardon?’
Matt cringed. Remembered his audience. ‘Nothing. It’s fine, though, really.’
The other guy Neil had already rushed to the counter and was scurrying back with a stack of napkins. They mopped the table up, and Matt sat back into the damp patch. The three men looked at him for a few moments, with expressions that he found hard to categorise. Were they concerned or were they smirking? Then another thought.
Was that coffee spill deliberate?
’Course not. Probably not. Possibly not. He clocked Jerry’s fingers again and decided there were probably no cup handles on earth that would fit on such a bent digit.
‘Please,’ Matt said. ‘Let me get you a new one.’
Todd shook his head and silently slid his own coffee to Jerry. ‘Have mine.’ He looked up at Matt. ‘So I’m telling you, the Devil’s having a field day in this town. That’s why we’re on the streets so much. Sooner the police get that in their skulls, the better. A dog didn’t kill that girl. It was something in the dog. Something truly demonic. Not some malignant spirit … it was one of Satan’s soldiers, straight from the Bible. That’s real demonology.’
Matt waited for a moment, and took a long sip of his Americano. ‘And how will you respond if the police conclude that this whole thing isn’t spiritual at all? That it’s just physical?’
‘Oh, we’re not dumb,’ Todd said. ‘We know that’s exactly what they’ll say, but they’d be wrong. There’s no such thing as purely physical, anyway. If everything’s created by God and sustained by him, then in a sense everything’s supernatural, don’t you think? Like this table. Like your eyebrows. Your tongue.’ Todd sat back, looking at Matt’s mouth. ‘So as long as the police ignore the real cause of crime and pain we’re gonna keep the prayer pressure up. Especially when everybody around us celebrates this evil, like it’s harmless fun. I mean look …’ He gestured to the crazy-eyed paper skeleton hanging on the wall, ready for Halloween tomorrow. ‘I mean, folks are pushing the devil on their kids. So we’ll pray that they and the deluded fools like the Hodges’ll come to their senses, and stop flapping the doors of hell open and shut. Cos let me tell you this, Matt … sooner or later, things are gonna come wriggling on out. And we’ll do whatever it takes to stop that.’
‘Whatever it takes?’ Matt said.
‘Of course. Because prayer works.’
Matt waited a moment. ‘I hear you work with ex-prisoners at the church.’
‘We do! It’s a counselling group for ex-cons. We’re teaching them that their criminal behaviour doesn’t have to define them. That they can step out of it and be new men, and it’s all based on prayer. You want to know what we’re called?’
Matt nodded.
‘The Phoenix Club.’ Todd sat back, impressed with himself. ‘We’re renewing the minds of broken guys, and we’re smashing down the walls of the enemy. We restore men, Matt. And prayer is the key to it …’
Todd trailed off. His gaze dropped to the crackling sound that had suddenly broken out amongst them.
All eyes went to Neil who was tugging at his pocket. He yanked the scanner free and held it up to his ear for a few moments. ‘Oh dear.’
‘What is it?’ Todd said.
‘Oh dear … a little girl’s just admitted she got flashed at in the park this morning … sounds like it was that pervert who’s doing the rounds.’
Jerry shook his head. ‘Never stops, does it?’
‘Drink up, guys. We better go and pray over the park. Maybe find where she lives,’ Todd took a long, final swig. The others did the same. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’
Matt watched them bolt up into action, like one of them might shout Avengers assemble! at any minute. Todd swept past him in a cloud of coconut aftershave and dry-cleaned shirts. Then Matt walked them to the door as they grabbed their trusty weapons: the multicoloured sequence of umbrellas. In many ways, it felt like there should be something funny about all of this. Something cute. This little troupe of men being the spiritual superheroes of the town. Only it wasn’t that funny at all, seeing them so earnest and passionate about it. Like the Hodges and their devotion to the paranormal, they were all just obsessed with non-entities.
The bald guy, Jerry, flapped his umbrella a few times but paused before opening it fully. The door was now open, so the rain spattered inside. ‘You should definitely pass this on to the police,’ Jerry said. ‘We’ve tried, but these
