The Ghosts of Miller's Crossing Page 9

Edward repeated, “who didst fight with the drag…” but stopped as one of them left Father Murray and appeared inches from his own face. The hollow eyes locked on him, as if Edward was his prey. Frozen with fear, Edward heard Father Murray command, “Edward! Do not give in!”

  Edward started over, with fear dripping in his voice, “who didst fight with the dragon, the old serpent, and didst cast him out of heaven.” As soon as Edward uttered the last word, the creature thrust its hand into Edward’s chest, producing a cold and squeezing pain deep inside. The pain sent Edward to his knees. He grasped at his chest and fell over, the creature maintaining its grasp.

  It climbed on top of Edward and glared while twisting its hand back and forth. Edward tried to grab its arm in defense, but his hands passed right through. With a primeval scream, it twisted its arm, increasing the pain to a level that caused Edward to grasp at his chest with both hands. The look on his face told of the agonizing pain. He looked straight up through the creature and saw visions of his parents looking down at him as his thoughts shifted to his kids.

  “Thrust this up into its heart.” The voice of Father Murray cut through all the thoughts.

  The priest stood over Edward with something in his hand and then dropped it. It passed straight through the vision and landed on Edward’s chest. Using both hands, he reached for the object and gripped the bottom arm of it. He felt an electric jolt run through his arms and into his body. The feelings of fear and despair disappeared. The agonizing pain was no more. He still sensed the four spirits, but the cold and dread he felt before became something different. He was not afraid. With both hands, he thrusted the object, a simple wooden cross, up into the heart of the spirit on top of him. The creature screamed in pain as it disappeared into a cloud of mist, only to reappear a few feet away.

  Sheriff Tillingsly helped Father Murray pull Edward up. He held onto that cross with a death grip. Edward searched for answers in the men’s faces.

  Father Murray again grabbed him by both shoulders and said, “Focus. This is what you were meant to do. The power is inside you. Here.” The old priest took his left hand off the cross and shoved a book in it. The book was already opened to a page marked by a simple red rope. “Read from here.”

  Edward’s eyes followed Father Murray’s finger to a spot on the page. He heard his voice once more. “Go on.”

  Edward read, “and now valiantly defendest the Church of God that the gates of Hell may never prevail against her, I earnestly entreat thee to assist me also, in the painful and dangerous conflict which I have to sustain against the same formidable foe. Be with me, O mighty Prince! that I may courageously fight and wholly vanquish that proud spirit, whom thou hast by the Divine Power so gloriously overthrown, and whom our powerful King, Jesus Christ, has, in our nature, so completely overcome; to the end that having triumphed over the enemy of my salvation, I may with thee and the holy angels, praise the clemency of God who, having refused mercy to the rebellious angels after their fall, has granted repentance and forgiveness to fallen man. Amen.”

  Edward’s reading of St. Michael’s prayer caused the creatures to scream and howl. Fixated and fearful of the cross in his right hand, they kept their distance.

  Father Murray held his rosary up and walked toward the visions. “Come with me.” Edward followed the priest step by step.

  “With the glory and love of Christ as my sword, I command you unclean spirits to leave this world and to be condemned to the fire of Hell for all eternity.”

  The creatures were focused on the cross and moved backward as Edward brought it closer to them.

  Father Murray spoke again. “I command you to leave this place. In the glory of God and Christ our savior, I command you. In the glory of God and Christ our savior, I command you.”

  The creatures faded as Father Murray continued to recite the phrase repeatedly. A blue colored haze floated where the creatures were. It descended to the ground, disappearing among the fog and cool moist night air.

  “Where did they go?” Edward asked.

  “Where they should be. To Hell, I hope. They were pure evil.”

  “How did you know?”

  Father Murray explained rather calmly, “It’s pretty easy. It has nothing to do with how they react to us. Even the best spirits can act like that. It is the confusion they feel. It clouds their judgement. The evil ones, you feel without question. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel that when we first got out of the car.”

  He was right. Edward felt dread the first time he sensed them.

  “Let’s get out of here. The bugs are biting.” Father Murray turned and walked out of out of the woods, swatting at the swarm of mosquitoes around them. Edward didn’t notice the mosquitoes until now. He followed Father Murray and the rest of the men out of the woods. His body shook with each step. When the group emerged, they were about a hundred yards away from where they parked.

  John Sawyer called back at the sheriff, “Any more reports?”

  “A couple of friendlies, John, but it sounds like those are all handled.”

  “If it’s all right with you and the Father, me and the boys are going home.”

  Sheriff Tillingsly passed the question off to Father Murray. “Father?”

  “That is fine with me, Lewis. Thank you much, John.”

  “See you in church tomorrow.”

  John and the others loaded up in their trucks and headed off. Edward quick stepped a few times catch up with the priest. “Here,” Edward said as he tried to return the cross and book to him.

  The priest put his hands around Edward’s and the objects. “Keep them. They were your father’s, and we have a lot of training to do.” With a creak, Father Murray opened the door of his Caddy. “Lewis, see you tomorrow?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Good. Make sure Edward gets home safely. He has had a long night.” The old priest smirked.

  “Yes, Father.”

  Neither Edward nor Sheriff Tillingsly said much to each other on the entire ride home. Mostly just chit-chat like “the football team looks great this year” and such from the Sheriff. Edward gave simple one- and two-word answers. His mind was too occupied for normal conversation, but he did recognize what the Sheriff was doing. This was the second time in his life he had tried to distract him.

  Edward got out of the car and walked toward the house as the Sheriff sped off behind him. When he approached the door, a familiar chill and tingling started at the base of his neck. Instinctually he looked around. The sight he saw took his breath away. It wasn’t one or two. Not even five to ten. In the layer of fog that hung above the ground, a group of glowing individuals made of vapor and soulless eyes encircled his house. There was no sound or movement. They just hovered there.

  Edward thought to himself, well, this is new, before he headed inside.

  16

  Edward sat in a church pew alone after the Sunday morning service. He sent his children out to the car for a few minutes so he could talk to Father Murray alone. The events of the past few days had rolled through his mind, leading to sleepless nights. Safely tucked into his coat pocket were the book and the cross. He hadn’t allowed either to leave his possession since Father Murray handed them to him the night before. He laid in his bed after returning home and studied each of them, but never felt the same confidence and power surging through his body as he did in the woods. The cross was a simple wooden cross. Nothing ornate about it. The book was a simple brown leather-bound book of aged handwritten prayers and notes. There was nothing special about either item. Had he imagined the feeling? Edward dismissed that. What he felt was real, but how? Did Father Murray have anything to do with it? He needed to find answers.

  “How are you doing, Eddie?”

  “Oh, I am just hunky-dory, Father. And you?”

  Father Murray motioned with his hands for him to slide over and make room. “I am good.”

  “Last night was kind of intense.”

  Father Murray chuckled. “Last night
was nothing. They were evil, but we were never in any danger. I knew it as soon as I felt them. That is why I had you take the lead with me. Most of what we encounter is way beyond that.”

  Edward questioned, “Way beyond that? No danger? That one tried to kill me.”

  “He felt threatened and responded, but you were never in any danger. It felt that way because of how sensitive you are to them. Many we encounter, not only can, but want to harm you.”

  Edward tried to wrap his head around that. The pain he felt was real to him, and he’d thought he was moments from death.

  Father Murray could see the self-doubt and worry rush into Edward. He attempted to reassure him, “Don’t worry, we won’t take the training wheels off until you are ready. The power to do all this is inside you. You were born with it. We just have to show you how to use it. We have a lot of training to do.”

  “Training?” Edward questioned. An image of some mythical magical school popped into his mind.

  “This ability is like a muscle. You have to train to use it properly. Last night was just… a push up. Just meant to make you believe in your capability. Before last night, how much of what Lewis and I told you did you believe?”

  “Well…” Edward thought about it for just a moment, “… probably more than you will believe. I have seen them since I was a kid. So, hearing that others do didn’t surprise me. What you told me about Miller’s Crossing and what I saw last night, I still need to make sense of.”

  Edward leaned down and held his head in his hands. “So, my father and mother were like me?”

  “You mean able to see spirits?” Father Murray asked.

  Edward nodded.

  “Yes. They were just like you,” Father Murray answered.

  At that moment, Edward realized how different his life could have been. “I’m not sure you know this. I don’t tell most people about it, and need you to keep this between us.”

  “Of course. I am a priest, you know.”

  “I was put in a crazy home when I was fourteen because of what I could see. My foster parents didn’t understand me and didn’t know how to deal with me. I don’t fault them. If my parents had been alive, they would have understood and could have helped me understand.”

  “I know. There are many things that would be better if your parents were still alive. I knew about what you were going through.”

  “You knew?” Edward asked, surprised.

  “Lewis and I kept tabs on you. We tried to help, hon- “

  Edward interrupted. “You tried? I spent years, drugged every day. They treated me like I was crazy. Hell, after enough of the medication I thought they were right.”

  “We tried.” Father Murray attempted to console Edward. “Because of who you were, Lewis and I kept track of you. Lewis attempted to talk to the doctors at your facility to help explain what you had been through, to see if that would give them some perspective. We both tried to talk to your foster parents, but they sent us away and asked us to never attempt to contact you or them again.” The old priest held up a hand to stop Edward. “… and, I don’t blame them. They were trying to protect you. We even talked to Tony Yates to see if there was some legal avenue we could use. There was nothing.”

  Edward sat speechless.

  “You would have had been about sixteen when Lewis said he wanted to tell your doctors the truth. Can you imagine what would have happened then?” A wide grin stretched across Father Murray’s weathered face.

  Edward thought about how Doctor Law would have responded. “It’s a good thing he didn’t. I already had a roommate. He would have been assigned to a different room.”

  “Those without the gift can’t understand. We tried. We owed that to your parents. When you turned eighteen, we lost track of you until about ten years ago. Thank you, social media.” Father Murray looked up to the heavens with his hands pressed together in prayer.

  “Social media?”

  “What? You think because I’m old, I don’t know about such things? I post, tweet, share pictures. This church has its own page. I may be old, but I’m not dead.” Father Murray bumped Edward with his shoulder and joked, “or am I? Would you know the difference?”

  “Yep. You’re talking,” Edward said through a slight laugh.

  “Ah, well… I will teach you how you can talk to them, just like I am talking to you now.”

  The surprised look on Edward’s face said it all.

  “You just don’t know how yet. It is on one of the many pages of your family’s book I gave you last night. I think your great-grandfather added it. Your grandfather added a few pages, as did your father. You will too, in time.”

  The old priest groaned as his stood up and walked toward the front of the church. His voice echoed in the empty sanctuary. “When we found you, I came out to Portland to see you. I planned to give you the cross and book, but when I sat in my car outside your house you and your family came walking by. You seemed so happy and adjusted. I debated with myself for the next few days. On one side, you needed to know. On the other, you had been through so much. To see you happy and with a family of your own. Do I risk interrupting that? I decided then to let you live your life. You were too young to understand how important your family is in this town.”

  “I knew how respected my father was, but nothing else,” said Edward.

  “Oh, your father was special. A great man, intellectually and spiritually. Never one to turn down the opportunity to help someone, but you knew that.”

  Father Murray was right. Edward remembered many a weekend his father and he finished their chores on their property, only to head out to help someone on theirs.

  “He was a brother to me, as was your grandfather. How much do you remember of him?”

  “Not too much.” Edward was only seven when he passed away. He had a few memories of his father and grandfather out working in the pasture together while he ran around helping with his plastic tools.

  “For you to understand all this, you need to understand your history. Are you ready to take that journey?”

  His past was a mystery to Edward. He knew more about his foster family than his real family. What memories he did have, were vanishing with time.

  “Dad, can we go now? It’s hot in the car,” Sarah demanded from the church’s front door.

  Walking back toward Edward, Father Murray said, “Go ahead. Take them home. Do me a favor though.”

  “Of course.”

  “Think of your home as a museum. We left everything just as you left it. Look around. Discover yourself.”

  “I will.”

  Father Murray shook Edward’s hand. “I will be in touch soon. Keep those items safe. They are more powerful than you can imagine.”

  Edward bowed and said, “Yes, master.”

  “Oh, I am no master. You are. You just don’t know it yet.”

  That thought landed the weight of the world on Edward’s shoulders.

  17

  When Edward and his children arrived home, Sarah and Jacob ran inside to avoid melting in the heat. Edward took his time and looked at the thunderheads developing. As a kid, he would ask his father, “How long do we have today?” Meaning, how long could he play outside before the storms would force him inside. There was no such conversation with his kids. They were inside turning down the air conditioning.

  Edward walked in with the ancient Greek aphorism “Know Thyself” echoing in his mind. The pile of photo albums and old books in the dining room bookcases called to him. These were off limits when he was a child. Any time his mother saw him close to them or looking at them she admonished him, “Sweetie, you can look at them, but don’t touch. They are old.” Those books and that one antique chair in the corner were off limits. The devious seven-year-old inside him came up with an idea. He should sit in that chair while he looked through the books.

  First, Edward headed upstairs to change into something comfortable. Once changed, he found himself standing in front of the bookshelf. “Where to sta
rt?” he wondered aloud. The obvious answer was the top. He pulled the first album off, a red covered, drugstore bought photo album loaded with instant pictures pressed between the pages. Edward’s younger self was the main subject in most pictures. Christmas morning, candid school shots, and him in a few Halloween costumes. He didn’t remember ever dressing up as a dog. That was one picture he’d never let his kids see.

  He found one picture his eyes lingered on while emotions stirred inside. It was one of a younger version of himself flanked by both his mom and dad, probably the best picture he’d seen of the three of them. Carefully he removed it from the film covered page and put if off to the side. He was sure his mom would forgive him.

  Edward returned that book and retrieved a larger dust covered book. Carefully prying it open, he sensed the age of it. The pictures weathered to shades of brown, grays, and hints of faded colors. They were of his father, grandfather and various other men. Sides of the house and the old barn appeared in several of the images. One picture showed a fresh coat of red paint on the side of the barn. His father was maybe eleven years old in that photo. Someone probably wrote a date on the back, but he did not dare attempt to check.

  Page by page he flipped through. Several of the pictures showed a woman with his father. He assumed that was his grandmother. He never had the opportunity to meet or even see a picture of her before. The next picture caused a pause. His father and grandfather were standing on either side of another older man. The mystery man was holding the cross and the book, and both his father and grandfather had their hands on the objects. He studied the men in the photo. His father was only a teen and his grandfather was maybe in his early forties. The other man could’ve been in his sixties or seventies. Even with the discrepancy in age, there was something familiar in all of them. They shared the same eyes. He had to be Edward’s great grandfather.

  He tried to pry it from its page, but the aged adhesive maintained its hold. To avoid damaging it, he used a nearby piece of junk mail as a makeshift bookmark. A few pages deeper there he was again, with his father and a large group of men sitting on hay bales the barn. This scene mimicked one Edward walked in on several times when he was younger, before his father would usher him out.