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CHAPTER 5

Love. Peace. Joy.

Did these things really need selling? Weren't they what everyone usually wanted anyway?

Maybe it was the church that needed selling. Or the faith that the church was about. Mae noticed none of the banners said "Faith," even though it would have fit. Maybe faith was more like a drug and less like a candy. Maybe it was only good once you got into it. She wouldn't know. She'd never even felt faith, so far as she knew. What did it feel like?

Could it be what she needed? Wouldn't that be funny if the exact thing she needed had been this spooky, hold-your-breath-and-believe thing her mother had been dabbling in her whole life, but been too considerate to force on Mae? Would that even make sense?

But no. Focus, Mae. One question at a time. This visit isn't about faith. If anything, it's about the opposite.

Pastor K wasn't in the sanctuary. Mae'd already peeked in the woods, just in case, since she would have been more comfortable talking out there, but no luck. She peeked down the hall. Her mom was at the desk, per usual, and normally Mae would have been glad to say hi, but somehow today she didn't want Mom knowing she was here, especially given the baseball bat she was toting around. She'd been planning to see her that evening and tell her all about her trip to Turtle Rapids, but didn't want to have a whole thing here. Mae felt guilty about it, but that was how it was.

So she started peeking in doors at random. Eventually she found the staircase to the basement and sprang down, and there was the pastor, pouring out a little bag of red discs on a table. There were lots of tables down there with things on them.

"Hey Pastor K," said Mae, setting her bat down by the stairs and walking around a table she'd been tempted to vault over. Churches were about discipline.

The pastor looked up in surprise. "Mae Borowski. You startled me."

"Sorry. Whatcha doing?"

She gestured to a metal cage thing filled with ping pong balls. "Getting ready for bingo." Her voice was non-judgmental, like always. She could have had an edge to it, as if to say Isn't it obvious what I'm doing? But that wasn't how Pastor Kate rolled.

"So this is what bingo looks like! I've never played it." Mae picked up a card covered with letters and numbers in little squares.

"To be honest, you're not missing much. It's more about gathering together in a common activity."

"I like that! Gathering together is good. Activities aren't bad either."

The pastor looked up from her work. "You're free to stay if you like. There's a suggested donation of a dollar a card, but you can play for free."

Mae was a little tempted. "Is it fun?"

"Depends. If you like putting discs on squares until you have five in a row, then it's fun."

That didn't sound all that fun to Mae, but she knew fun was the sort of thing that could sneak up on a person. "We'll see. To be honest, I was planning to come to service on Sunday, and I was gonna use the days in between to work up my nerve."

Pastor K didn't smile, but her face was definitely brighter than before. "In that case, I'll look forward to seeing you. Is there any particular reason?"

Mae exhaled. She wasn't quite ready to come clean. "I guess I just need… something, and I figured this might be it."

"It could be. It could very well be. Maybe you should try bingo tonight, just to get used to the crowd. No pressure. No spiritual strings attached."

"Are there spiritual strings attached to normal church?"

The pastor paused for a moment before answering. "If there weren't, it wouldn't be very satisfying. But this church doesn't require you to do anything you don't want to do."

"Or to feel any way I don't want to feel, right?"

"Right. I actually believe that a person can't simply choose to feel how they want. Feelings aren't chosen. They're experienced."

That seemed reasonable. "What about songs? I remember not knowing how the songs went and getting embarrassed about it."

"Well, the words are in books. And so is the music, if you can read it. If not, you'd be surprised how many parishioners are faking it."

"Really? But it sounded really good."

"You'd be surprised how many people can be singing off key in a group performance that still sounds really good."

That sounded kind of like a metaphor. Pastor K was good at this. "I play bass, but I never learned to read music."

"There's still time to learn."

Well that was true. There was still probably time to learn. "That's the sort of thing I should've been learning in college," Mae realized. "That and how bingo works." She tapped a pile of chips, collapsing it further.

"What did you study in college?"

Mae hated this question. "Like, stuff. History a little. Math I should've already known. Basically, whatever you think I should have learned in college, you can assume I didn't learn it."

"I take it things didn't go well?"

"Yeah. They didn't."

The bingo-running adult stepped around her table so that she could face Mae without dealing with bingo-ey things. "So are you just here to visit, or…?"

Well, here she was. At the crux of things. "So… you know how you told me once if I had any questions, I could come to you?"

The pastor nodded. "You can ask anything you like. It doesn't mean I'll have the answer, but I'll listen."

Mae suddenly felt weird, asking a question like this in a room full of bingo supplies. But she couldn't back out now. "So… there's God, and there's Satan. And there's all the angels, and demons I guess. But…" The pastor watched her carefully. "Is there… anything else out there? Any other… creatures that are… like, as strong as the angels, but not angels?"

Pastor K took a deep breath. "Well, Holy Scripture describes a lot of strange beasts that only appear in one or two stories. Most of them show up in prophets' visions. Sometimes they're helping enact the Eschaton, or end of the world. Sometimes they're attending to God, or to one of his Heavenly Princes. Is that the sort of thing you're wondering about?"

Mae wasn't sure. "What did they look like?"

The pastor's face tightened. "Anything and everything. A lot of them had more than one head, or were covered in eyes. They tended to be combinations of real creatures. Some of them had way more wings or horns than you would expect. Some of them were half person, half beast."

That sounded really cool, and Mae made a mental note to try reading at least the good parts of Scripture. "Do you… do you think they're real?"

The tip of the pastor's tongue appeared, pressing upward in concern. "That's hard to say. The prophets were still just people, even if they were granted divine clairvoyance. They may have misinterpreted what they saw, or exaggerated and embellished. But I believe they did see things that were true, and they did their best to describe them."

This was less than satisfying. "Well if these crazy things are real, where did they come from? I mean is there anything in Scripture about that?"

"Precious little. 'No creations of God's are more inscrutable than life'—that's from Marvels 8. Presumably they're direct creations of God. But when God created them, or why, is pure speculation. If they exist at all." She took a step closer, peering evenly at Mae. "May I ask why you're interested in this line of questioning?"

Mae felt defiance welling, but reminded herself that this woman was on her side. "I've had dreams. Really intense dreams. Over and over, night after night." She figured she'd tell some of the truth, but not all. Just in case. "And I dreamed of creatures beyond what we know. One of them was a giant black goat with a crazy weird mind. It tried to talk to me. It tried to tell me things."

There was some fear in the pastor's face; she drew back her chest before speaking. "And you feel sure that these weren't just dreams? Ordinary percolations of unresolved issues in the mind?"

"I don't know what a percolation is, ordinary or otherwise, but no, I'm pretty sure they're real. And I'm scared. I thought maybe you'd have some advice for me."

"Well. Mae. I may be able to advise you, but I have to warn you that I'm inclined to think of your dreams as just dreams. Maybe not ordinary dreams… it may be that you require clinical attention, for example. But I very much doubt that any of the beasts of Scripture are out there trying to talk with you."

Well, damn. Just because Pastor Kate was approachable didn't mean she wasn't a typical adult. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I've never heard of it happening. Not in the modern age. I have my doubts about the literal reality of the monsters in Holy Scripture—there's too much potential for them to have been embellishments, or mistranslations, or symbols. Or even just misremembered details of prophetic dreams. And Mae—sometimes dreams do seem real. We don't always occupy the same state of consciousness when we dream. Some dreams take place in a different mental state, and they feel so different to us that we assume they must be special, or real. But that isn't really the case."

Mae sighed. She didn't want to spill the whole truth to a person who might not believe her, but this was going nowhere. "Fine. Then let's just pretend that the things I've been dreaming of are real. Can we do that? Assuming they are real, what should I do? What if the goat thing wants me to set it free, so it can go back where it came from? Is that something I can even do?"

Pastor K let out a harried breath. "Mae, you asked about beasts beyond our perception apart from angels and demons. Right?"

"Right," said Mae.

"Assuming that this thing is real… how are you sure it isn't a demon? Demons are often associated with goat imagery."

Somehow that hadn't occurred to Mae. "Maybe… maybe it is a demon? But… what would that mean? What are demons, really? Are they always evil?"

"They're usually considered to be the fallen angels who allied with Satan's rebellion. Are they always evil? I can't say for sure, but we don't have any examples in Scripture or tradition of non-evil demons. It really isn't known whether they follow Satan's orders or act on their own."

Great. "Is… is there any way to tell a demon by looking at it? You know, in case I dream of it again?"

"You know, Mae, you may want to consider seeking professional therapy for this. It seems like these dreams are bothering you a lot. Have you told your parents about them?"

Mae was suddenly super-conscious of the fact her mother was currently in the building right now. "No… I kinda… don't want to put this on them." Please don't tell her, she pled with her eyes.

"I understand. You used to see Dr. Hank about… personal issues, didn't you?"

Oh, no. "I'm not seeing him again. No way. I don't trust him."

The pastor was silent a moment. "Well. In that case, I'll just ask you this: why would you even consider working with a demon? None of the stories I've heard about demons involve people working with them and everything turning out great."

She made it seem so ridiculous. "So… what do I do if I dream about it again?"

"Assuming it really is a demon? Reject it. Just completely reject it and don't let it influence you."

"What, like, 'I reject you, hellspawn'?"

"Sure. Or say a prayer to keep yourself safe." Then she hesitated. "I feel like I should add a caveat. if these dreams really are just dreams, which I'm ninety-something percent sure they are, I might be giving you bad advice. It might be what you really need to do isn't reject this dream creature at all, and you really should get help from a medical professional. Even if it isn't Dr. Hank."

Mae tried not to tune out this part of the pastor's advice, but she couldn't help it—she knew it was wrong. The part about demons, though… might make sense. What was she thinking, trying to help a demon? Even if it was to help it get home? "If I help a demon get back to Hell," she muttered, "is that good or bad?"

"I don't know the answer to that, Mae," said Pastor K. "But if I were you, I'd stay away from anything demonic. A lot of people care about you. You know that, don't you?"

She remembered being here when she didn't know where she was; a room of people saying things about her and hoping she'd wake up. Pastor Kate had led that living wake, or whatever it was. "Um. This may sound weird, but… could I maybe get a hug?"

The pastor smiled with embarrassment. "I was actually thinking about offering earlier, but I decided against it."

Mae opened her arms. "Well, good thing for you I believe in second chances."

They hugged. It felt good, and Mae wanted to melt a little, but she still felt a little uneasy, knowing the pastor didn't fully believe her. She stood there taking in the church basement, the bingo supplies… the fact that she was cared for here, if not exactly loved.

"I'd like to hear about how this develops," said Pastor K. "Will you come again and tell me?"

Decision time. "I'll tell you more than that," said Mae.

"Oh?"

She felt, and again resisted, the urge to jump on the table. "I'll tell you about Bruce."

Pain struck the pastor's face, though she tried to hide it. "What about Bruce?"

"He never went home to his family. Probably they didn't even want him back. The story he told me, and I told you… he made it up."

"I have to say… I'm not entirely surprised. But how do you know?"

"The demon thing told me. He's living in the woods. In a ditch."

The pastor's eyes narrowed. "You saw it in a dream?"

"Close enough. A vision, more like. When the eclipse happened."

"Were you outside watching it at the time?"

"Yep. Blacked out, scared all my friends. You probably think I'm crazy, huh? But I'm the good kind of crazy. I think." She hoped, at least.

"I don't think you're crazy, Mae. But I do think you need serious medical attention. I really think you ought to tell your parents about all this."

"Don't you want to help Bruce?" Mae asked. "He's living near some town called Mannetsburg. His beard's a real mess. I think he needs help."

"Mannetsburg? I don't know it. Is this also from the dream?"

Somehow, she didn't want to mention Broderick. Pastor K already didn't believe her—Mae didn't want her to think she was even more crazy. "Yeah. It's in Foxwood. I'd go, but I don't have a car. I think the demon wanted me to sacrifice Bruce to it, but I want to help him instead."

"Sacrifice? This is getting pretty serious, Mae."

She nodded. "I know. I'm freaking out a little about it. But I'm trying to keep together."

"I can't drive to Foxwood just based on a vision you had. It's still probably just dreams, even if one of them did come at a strange time."

"What if it weren't dreams?" Mae demanded, putting her hands on her hips. "What if you knew he really was struggling to get by in the woods? Would you go then?"

Pastor K hesitated before giving a little nod. "I would."

"He's not your neighbor anymore."

"No. But I care."

"There's probably a thousand homeless guys closer to here than that. Maybe ten thousand. They'd probably be easier to help." Mae didn't know why she was being a jerk about this—maybe to test the pastor?

"I know. But I'm human that way. I form connections with people."

Mae nodded. "You should go, then. Because it's true. All of it. I may be messed up in the head, but the demon goat is real either way. I'm serious."

"I'm sorry, Mae, but it's just too much for me to believe."

You know those eighteen guys who disappeared last fall? Mae wanted to say. But she didn't. She knew any further explanations would just result in the pastor urging her harder and harder to get help, and maybe eventually telling her parents about it. Mae wanted to go on a road trip with Pastor K and really get to the bottom of all this. Make excuses to her parents and to the town council. Have an adventure. But it would mean telling everything. Implicating her friends in the collapse of the mine. Making people think she was more unhinged than she actually was. Maybe she should do that, but she couldn't.

"Okay. That's fine. There's a guy who's going to help Bruce, and I'll just have to write him letters and make sure he actually does it. You can stay here and… preach, or talk, or whatever you do. But Black Goat is real. It really is. You came to a town with an honest-to-god monster in it, probably a demon, and you could have done your clergy magic on it. But you're gonna miss your chance. And you'll probably never get another chance."

Pastor K hesitated for a long time. "You know I don't have 'clergy magic', right?"

Mae shook her head. "I'm a college dropout who never paid attention in Sunday school. I don't know anything of the sort."

"I don't have clergy magic," said the pastor.

"Bet you do," said Mae.

Pastor K sighed. "Is it possible we could discuss this after bingo? People are about to show up."

"Fine. I'll come by tomorrow. …Just tell me one thing."

The pastor inclined her head.

"Were you called to this?" Mae asked. "To being a pastor?"

She nodded solemnly. "I believe I was. It was a steady, growing desire, and not a sudden spark. And I wasn't sure at first. But that's actually how it is for most ministers."

"Did you ever dream of exorcising a demon?"

Pastor K stared as if she were about to say something. Then she tilted her head the other way and said: "Bingo. People coming. I can practically hear them on the stairs."

"Right," said Mae. "Talk to you later."

She turned and traipsed back to the stairs, picking up her bat as she went. "Just saying," she added as she went. "Wouldn't want you to miss your one chance."

The pastor watched her as she left. Mae found herself breathing hard once she reached the top of the stairs. She hadn't realized how nervous she was.

"Mae?" Soft footsteps pattered closer. Oh geez—she should've been more careful.

"Hey Mom," she said, turning.

"Sweetie! I didn't think I'd see you here. Are you just back from the eclipse? How was your trip?" Mom's words were kind, but she was obviously concerned—she didn't move in for a hug.

"It was… it was great. Interesting. I was actually planning to tell you all about it at home."

"Well… you still can, if you prefer. You just dropped in to let me know you were back safe?

Mae scratched her neck, swinging her bat incidentally as she did. "Actually, I came by to see the pastor. I had some questions for her."

Mom's concern took over her face fully—no more holding back. "Oh."

Did she think Mae was pregnant again? Better placate her. "I've decided to come to service! Next Sunday. I'll give it a try."

Mom smiled, but even now it wasn't an all-the-way smile. "That's great, honey! I'm glad you're giving it a go."

"Yeah! And… the trip went fine, mostly. We're all back safe."

"Sweetie…"

"What's wrong, Mom?"

She gestured with her eyes. "You know, it's not really okay to bring a weapon into church."

Mae looked at the bat. "Oh right. Um…"

"What's with the bat, sweetie? I thought you were done with those."

So that was why she was concerned. That made sense. "Hey Mom… I'm really sorry to make you worried. Like, all the time. Now, and when I dropped out, and when I got shot at, and… and when I beat up Andy Cullen. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, sweetie. Just—"

The tone of her voice didn't say It's okay. "No, it's not. It's really the opposite of okay. I hate worrying—I don't want to make people do it for me. And…" This was weirdly hard to say. "I love you, Mom. I don't want you to worry. But…" Mae scrunched her face and sighed. "I'm just gonna be carrying a bat around for a while. I can't tell you why. I'm not out to hurt anyone. And I don't think anyone's trying to hurt me. I just… I just need this with me, to feel comfortable."

Mom looked so sad, all of a sudden. "It's like a binky blanket?"

Good enough. "Yeah, Mom. It's like a binky blanket. Did I have one of those?"

"You absolutely did. We had to distract you with a root beer float and one of those handheld video games to get it away from you. When it was ready to be thrown out."

"Aw, Mom! You couldn't let me keep my binky? Just 'cause it was a little messy?"

"It was falling apart. We didn't want you breathing in the fumes."

"Blanket fumes?"

"Tiny flakes of blanket. We gave you a new one, but you didn't really care as much for it. You cried for a week."

Mae could almost remember. "I'm still just a big kid, aren't I? I'm not growing up. Still with my binky blanket. Only now it's a binky bat."

Now Mom did move in for the hug, bat and all. "Just don't swing it at anyone. I love you, sweetie."

"Love you," Mae returned.

But all the way home, she felt dirty. This isn't a binky, she told herself. It's a weapon of destruction. It's a weapon of liberation.

She kept it with her through dinner. Through telling Mom and Dad (and, for some reason, Germ, who'd randomly showed up) about her trip… but leaving out the weird parts. And all through watching TV with Dad, she kept her bat with her. Dad raised his eyebrows at it, but didn't object.

"Everything going okay with you, Mae?" he asked.

"Fine," she replied, in the tone of voice that meant Of course not everything's fine, but when is it ever, and can we not talk about it? He didn't push the issue.

She took the bat upstairs with her and sat with it while she chatted on her laptop. She set it on her desk as she wrote a letter to Broderick. She took it to bed with her and cuddled it like a security blanket. She fell asleep holding it.

But it wasn't a binky bat. It was a weapon of liberation.

If she carried it with her all day long, she reasoned, then maybe, just maybe, it would show up in her dreams. And if she dreamed of Black Goat, and she had her bat with her, then she would swing it, and swing it, and swing it until the tear in the ground that was the sky reopened, and she would set that crazy demon free.

At least that was the plan.

A/N: Tuesday night bingo. It's on the sign.

Figuring a couple more chapters to go, but I'm really not sure. I'll post them on Mondays, though not necessarily next Monday-my main job's resuming after a summer break.