Page 111 of Deliver us from Evil

“Watch it,” he says. Crosses his arms. He and Apollo share a look, and then drop their gazes. “We couldn’t.”

“It’s a video?”

They nod, still looking down.

Christ.

There’s a mess of noise from the phone. Rube turns it on its side, lifts his chin a little. But he’s holding it. He’s watching it.

I shift a little, peering over his arm at the screen.

Darkness. Then a flash of light. Pale blue carpet. Neat, clean. Suggestion of furniture which quickly resolves into a dark blue chest of drawers painted with big yellow stars. There’s a red toy robot on top, and a random assortment of He-Man action figures.

Jesus Christ.

But Rube says nothing.

And we keep watching.

The view pans to a bed. There’s a little boy sitting on the side. He has tear tracks down his face and his red Spiderman T-shirt is damp with spilled tears. He’s still hiccupping, and as the person holding the camera phone goes closer, he lifts a little fist and wipes it over his eyes.

“Hey, Justin,” someone croons softly. “Don’t cry.”

The boy frowns hard at the person holding the camera. “I wuh-want my muh-m-mommy.”

“Oh, I know. I know. She said she’ll be here any minute now.”

I glance up at Cass and Apollo. They’re staring at us now, both wide-eyed, like they’re waiting for us to shout Uncle.

The kid’s not even in a basement. Yeah, I couldn’t go down into the dark earlier, but he’s in a bright and sunny room.

Pussies.

But then I hear Rube swallowing. I look back at the screen.

It’s gone black.

My stomach clenches.

Light returns. It shows a slim figure walking away from the camera that resolves into a young, pretty woman.

Late twenties.

Dark, curly hair.

Bright blue eyes.

Freckles.

She goes to sit beside the little boy, and puts an arm around his shoulder. He cringes away, but she just ducks her head a little closer.

“Would you like some cookies and milk while you wait for Mommy?” she asks.

The little boy looks up at her, wary, and shakes his head.

“Are you sure?”

He drops his head a little. Sniffs.

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