A Latent Dark by Martin Kee Page B

appreciate it if you didn’t smoke,” said Thomas.
    Lyle let the cigarette dangle in his mouth. He placed the silver container back in his pocket with an exasperated sigh.
    “Father Thomas,” he said. “I did not come here to get your blessing. I am perfectly capable of blessing my crusades all by myself. In fact, I did not have to come here at all. For all I care, you could have just gone on wondering why Lynn might have burned her house down. I know how touchy The Church is about suicide.”
    “Either way,” said Father Thomas. “It doesn’t do anyone much good, now that a family has been destroyed and a girl orphaned. You’re lucky if I don’t go straight to the archbishop with this.”
    Lyle laughed. It was a high cackle. For a moment the Reverend Lyle Summers looked like a corpse, animated through an electrical current and dressed in his finest white linen suit.
    “Oh, you go right ahead and do that,” said Lyle, wiping a tear. “In fact, we could both go see him together.”
    John only stared at the man. He began to say something but his mouth wouldn’t move. The Reverend Lyle Summers grinned at him.
     “I think you overestimate your pull with The Church these days, John. Now, how about we get back to the matter at hand?”
    John let out a slow breath. “Are there any remains?”
    “None,” Lyle said. “A clean burn. I’ve seen it a hundred times. The demons possess them and they lose control. Burn themselves up before they lose what’s left of their souls… not that suicide matters at that point. A damned soul is a damned soul after all.”
    “And you exorcised the premises?”
    “I did,” Lyle said with a nod, fondling the unlit cigarette between two fingers. “What was left of them, anyway.”
    “So the entire place was burned when you got there?”
    “To a crisp.”
    John gave a skeptical grunt.
    “Now,” said Lyle. “I believe I have been generous enough with your interrogation and I have a few questions of my own.”
    John leaned back in his chair and exhaled. The Reverend ignored his exasperation.
    “First, you knew that there was witchcraft in your city, and yet you did nothing. Is that correct?” The Reverend had become formal, as if recording the conversation.
    “‘Witchcraft’ is a very dated term, Reverend Inspector. You are talking like a man out of the Dark Ages. And I was going to do something until you showed up.”
    “Please,” said Lyle, “The house would have burned while you waited in your pulpit for them to invite you in. Who would be so stupid?”
    “Lynn was troubled, she—”
    “The woman was a witch,” Lyle snapped. “Her daughter was a witch and is running loose as you sit here wasting time in your nice big wooden chair.”
    “It is a mental illness. Lynn was schizophrenic, saw things that weren’t there.”
    “As did several members of your congregation, if I recall.” He whipped out a small notepad and flipped through the pages. “Dark shadows in the corner of the church. Someone recalled the woman drawing a demon out of the walls. Any of this ring a bell, Father?”
    John stumbled over his words for a moment, as if tripped.
    “People see things when they’re scared,” said John. “The mind plays tricks. What you are talking about is ridiculous, frankly.”
    “You can call it whatever you like,” said Lyle. “Trust me on this. Something big was summoned to do the damage I saw in that house. That was no hallucination.”
    I thought you said it was burned when you arrived , thought John. “You were investigating the house, Reverend. Were you at the church?”
    “The reason I am here,” Lyle snapped, “is not to answer questions. I am here to ask them.”
    John leaned back in his chair and gave a drawn-out sigh. He waved a hand. “Ask away.”
    “Let’s talk about the incident that happened to your parish,” Lyle said. “When the woman became possessed.”
    “I don’t think she was possessed,” John said. “She was very aware