“I guess I can bite the bullet for one more day,” said Jill, making Dennis shake his head at the vague innuendo. “What about you, Den-Den?”
He slid down the wall to hold his head in his hands, mumbling, “You know what that nickname does to me.”
“Everything does that to you lately.”
He looked up at her and bit his palm comically. “Let’s move on.”
When Jill turned back to McGlazer, it was with a graver expression.
“Uh oh. You kids aren’t…the ‘P’ word, are you?”
“Not at present,” said Dennis. “Right now, we need to ask another big favor, which is…access to the church’s sublevels.”
* * * *
McGlazer recalled last November 3, going back under the church, with the terror he had just lived still fresh on his mind and nerves.
First, there was a closed-door meeting in the same Community Center office where he now sat with Dennis and Jill. Hudson, Yoshida, Dennis and Pedro, all bandaged and scarred from their own battle with a pack of werewolves, crowded together to listen, as he and Stella gave their account of the nightmarish events in the church’s hidden basement.
With his body under the control of Conal O’Herlihy, the reverend had taken DeShaun and Stella down into the subterranean chamber—unknown to him before then—where he force-fed them a rare mushroom that induced visions, mind control and a form of zombification.
Stella’s engineer husband, Bernard, drafted by Stuart Barcroft, had thought ahead, bringing several strips of classroom-grade magnesium with him when he and Stuart set out to rescue their wife and friend. Once ignited, these simple chemist’s wares vanquished O’Herlihy’s army of mushroom-covered ghouls and gave Reverend McGlazer a chance to eject the malignant spirit of O’Herlihy.
After the meeting, Hudson and Yoshida collected some chemical hazard suits from the local fire department as protection from the mushroom’s hallucinogenic spores. Bernard got his hands on more magnesium, and with Dennis along to keep him busy (not drinking), they entered the chambers. After a brief debate over preserving the stone caskets that contained O’Herlihy’s fungus guardians, all agreed it was best to destroy everything; all traces of the mushroom, the caskets in the anterooms, even the symbols painted on the walls were blasted off with a high-pressure hose after Yoshida took pictures.
Once it was all over, there was nothing but stone rubble and empty space.
They decided to shutter the building and keep the mushroom monsters a secret while maintaining close watch to ensure the threat was truly over.
To be extra sure, they would wait through the coming Halloween, of course.
Hudson and Yoshida, though frequently griping about how much of their job was off the books these days, were nonetheless vigilant in making regular patrols of the chambers. McGlazer, always joining them, was nevertheless unsettled by those first few steps, even with the high-powered hunting lights the deputies used.
Dennis’s request seemed reasonable enough on its surface.
“Why the catacombs?” McGlazer asked the musicians.
“I explained to you about the new sound…” Dennis began.
“For now, anyway,” Jill contributed. She had made it clear she was far from sold on the idea of going pure death rock, as opposed to the punk/psychobilly fusion that was their basic sound.
“At least for this demo,” conceded Dennis.
“Sure.”
“It’s gotta be deep. Dark. You know, foreboding.”
Dennis produced a mini-recorder from his back pocket and played a snippet from “Is Everything Real?” by The Frozen Autumn, then fast-forwarded to Ghosting’s “Disguised in Black.”
McGlazer nodded. “Yes, I see what you mean.”
“So what do you think?”
“It is close to Halloween, you know.”
“I know,” Dennis said, “and you wanted to wait till after to figure out whether to reopen or not. But the thing is, we’re on a tight schedule to get this into the studio guy’s hands. And with the joint’s history and all…it would just be perfect.”
Dennis’s gaze was too imploring, so the minister looked to Jill—and immediately understood why Dennis was having such trouble keeping his hands off her.
“We’ll make sure Hud, or Yosh, or somebody is there to babysit the whole time. Keep the doors opened, have Bernard stand by with his weird science.”
“Well, you’ve given me a lot to consider,” McGlazer said.
“Take the night, Rev,” said Dennis. “Whatever you can do is great. On either deal.”
“We better go,” Jill said as she rose. “Or we’re gonna have one hungrumpy meathead bassist on our hands.”
“‘Hungrumpy’,” McGlazer repeated with a laugh.
“Feel free to work that into your next sermon.”
* * * *
Stella parked in the Grand Illusion Cinemas’ massive lot, which hadn’t filled to anywhere near capacity for a year now. It was the most convenient spot for the Riesling family to meet after Candace’s session. “We’ll walk down Main Street,” Bernard said as he took Emmie’s little hand. “We’ll find something fun.”
A light, musky breeze caressed their hair as Stella and Candace walked the block to the little beige building that housed Dr. Lanton’s office. Though the single-story structure was surrounded by azaleas through the summer, its autumn sparseness made it appear abandoned.
Stella watched Candace to see if she would raise her face into the wind, as she, Stella, did when she was the same age. But Candace only stared ahead.
“Candace, baby…are you nervous?”
“Not really. Doctor Lanton is nice. I like her.”
“Is there anything you want me to bring up?”
“Just remember to tell her the pills are working. Okay?”
In the waiting room, Candace stared at the four placid abstract pastels on the wall, going from one to the other repeatedly until she was called.
“How are you sleeping, Candace?” asked the pixie-faced therapist.
“Well…”
Stella found Candace’s uncertainty perplexing. The girl always made a point of saying how glad she was to be sleeping again, how grateful she was for her new life.
Dr. Lanton examined the girl’s face closely, then asked a series of questions that were vague and pointless to Stella’s ears. “How about just Candace and I talk for a few minutes? Would
