Harvey Loveless Mysteries 3: Support

I have to think that every church has one of these: a grimy room specially made for support group meetings. The Sunday parishioners get gothic ceilings, stained glass windows, and paintings of naked people flying through the clouds. We get a water heater, metal chairs and a coffee pot from when the first Bush was in office.

Not that we needed the space. We had five this week, four participants plus Father Gregor. He sat directly across from me in our little circle. He was young for a priest, probably late 20's, but I respected him more than any priest I'd ever met. I don't know if he took this job voluntarily or if he ticked off a higher up, but he always acted like he genuinely wanted to be here. Support groups were never fun, but this one was exceedingly looked down upon.

I always thought it was funny, if someone voluntarily drinks and wants to stop then they're a hero. If someone is born to become a monster and don't want to they are still labeled with the monsters.

Father Gregor started out with the serenity prayer. Our group had just whole hardheadedly ripped off the Alcoholics Anonymous protocol, including the steps, though recovery had different meanings here. Some of us will never truly recover.

After a short silence Nick was the first to speak. He was a little shorter than me but outweighed me by at least 100 pounds. All of it was pure muscle though, which he tried to hide under baggy jeans and an oversized sweater. He kept his blond hair at a close military style length, and never used product in it. I always meant to ask him why he didn't attend the survivor meetings, since he wasn't like the rest of us, but it seemed like too personal of a subject to broach.

"A woman came up to me at the gym this week," he said, never looking up from his massive hands. "She said she'd seen me around before, and wanted to say hi. I tried to act cool but at one point she touched my bicep and I cringed away. I smiled and said I was sore. She seemed weirded out but was still friendly and kept talking. I think we had a real connection."

"That's great!" said Father Gregor, real enthusiasm shining through is green eyes. "I'm glad! That's such a good step forward. Remember that God did not make women to be our enemy."

I glanced at the woman sitting directly opposite from Nick, though she didn't seem to notice the comment. She was, as usual, staring at her gloved hands as though she was looking for the answer to all of life's mysteries in the silk.

"Thanks, Father" Nick said, turning a little red. It's unusual to hear a priest praise a young man for being touched by a young woman, but in this case it was a positive step. At 18 Nick was at a party where he got drunk and went to bed with a pretty girl. Halfway through the act she shucked her skin and revealed herself to be a massive insectoid creature, trying to get his DNA. By that point Nick was past the point of no return and she got what she came for. He'd been terrified of women ever since.

The woman in our circle, Alice, looked up and said she wanted to go next. Her eyes were abnormally large and seemed to portrude in an unusual Steve Buscemi if his mother was part iguana sort of way. Her mouth was a little too wide when she spoke, and her unusually pale skin was pock marked with scabs and scars, many of which were self inflicted.

"I haven't found new scales in over a week," she said enthusiastically. "The doctor says that my showers are fine and that it's sea water that's a problem. I can even do salt water since its something in the ocean itself that triggers... episodes..." She trailed off, her enthusiasm draining away like a balloon with a hole.

"Have you been to the beach this week?" asked Father Gregor, concern in his eyes.

"No, I haven't" she said quietly, returning her odd gaze to her hands. "I've been taking extra shifts so I'm too busy to go, but I've wanted to." She wore a red gingham waitress uniform complete with apron and name tag. Her "skin condition" was listed as a medical issue so her employers let her keep her gloves though it was a mystery to everyone how she kept them so clean.

"That's good! Remember about idle hands..." said the Father, smiling at her kindly. The mention of hands made hers twitch a little. I'd never seen her without the silk gloves, but from what I'd heard about the operations on her fingers she'd been through, I don't think I wanted to. About every six months they would have to go in and remove the excess skin growing between her fingers. She always seemed much happier after the operations, and I think her next one would be coming up soon.

Alice was a result of a similar DNA collection process Nick had gone through. A race of sea beasts had been breeding with the residents of a coastal town for centuries before the city was raided and its residents quarantined. Some of the lines had moved away from the town beforehand, and some of their children still showed signs of their heritage. The most extreme would grow gills, scales and webbed digits coupled with an extreme urge to return to the sea and join the bizarre underwater race.

Attention turned to the last member of our little meeting, besides yours truly. The man was in his mid fourties, though he looked far older than he did. He was wearing stained sweat pants and a thin blazer, and rocked a beard that would be the envy of any hipster. His eyes were always darting around the room, occasionally stopping on something in the middle distance only he could see, at which point he would close his eyes and count to ten before going back to his searching.

"I... I think... I slept last night... No dreams..." he said. His voice was shaky like he just emerged from a polar bear plunge.

"Nate that's great news!" said the Father in his usual upbeat tone. "Is the medication helping?"

"I... Think so...." he said before snapping his eyes shut and counting to ten quickly. Six years ago he was a stock trader who had made the wrong investments to the wrong people and had ended up owing more than he had. In a desperate move he'd turned to magic hoping to gain the ability to see a little into the future and know what stocks to trade when. The ritual had gone wrong somehow and the creature he had dealt with for power gave him the ability to instead see the unseen world, meaning that he now saw the plethora of spirits and demons that surrounded humans on a constant basis. He lived in the church now and worked as its janitor. Apparently his wife remarried recently in another city.

Nate never looked directly at me.

"And how are you, detective?" the Father asked turning to me, his wide grin as warm and friendly as it would be meeting at a summer barbecue.

I inhaled slowly. "I cast three spells last night."

"Oh Harvey, what happened?" Asked the priest, his concern genuine on his face.

I explained the circumstances of the previous night, with the cult and the woman on the table, leaving out Detective Holms' visit this morning.

"Harvey, do you know Luke 22:42?"

"I had no idea she was my sister and she kissed me anyway?"

The priest looked confused for a minute before breaking out in laughter. The rest of the group followed nervously.

"No no, it says "Saying, Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done."

I nodded my head in agreement although I had no idea what he was talking about. To be honest I'd never read the Bible cover to cover. Not for its length or even language, I was just a little weary of religious tomes. In my experience they usually lead to trouble.

"I think that while your condition is not ordained by God, it can be used for good. And if you use it for his will, to help those in need, you can sanctify it, make it into something good that he can use."

  

It wasn't really what I interpreted the passage to mean, but the rest of the group nodded in agreement so I did as well. The meeting wrapped up with a small discussion on the meaning and significance of step two, most of which was done by Father Gregor. We adjourned with another recitation of the serenity prayer and one of those freestyle prayers the priest liked to do. While everyone was standing up, stretching, shaking hands and meandering towards the coffee and doughnuts I casually said "Hay has anyone heard about a fake Necronomicon floating around?"

The room froze and all eyes fixed on me. I'm apparently not as great at acting casual as I thought I was.

Father Gregor spoke first. "Harvey, you remember the first rule: We are here to recover not gain more dark knowledge?"

"I know," I said feeling slightly sheepish. "It's for a case I'm working on. The thing's bogus anyway."

"I would still rather you didn't bring things like that up in meetings," he said, the concern in his voice turned down and the dad authority turned up.

  

The members resumed their activities and I headed for a doughnut. I knew better, I know I knew better, but it was worth a shot. As I decided between cream filled or chocolate covered Nick sidled up to me.

"I need your help," he whispered, trying to look like he was getting a doughnut but was instead shuffling them around the box.

"Well, the cream filled is out, but the chocolate is good" I said as I took a bite of my newly acquired doughnut."

"No, I mean, I need your help, with something else" he whispered nervously. Nate came up to pour a cup of coffee and Nick immediately walked away, tilting his head in a way that meant I was to follow him. I rolled my eyes and did so.

  

"Look, is there somewhere we can talk, in private?" he asked, still glancing at the others in the room.

"We are talking in private" I said while still chewing on my doughnut. The kid was young, probably early twenties, and I figured it was about time he learned how to ask for something directly.

"I mean, like your office? Can you meet me at your office in like, an hour?" He asked.

I rolled my eyes again and fished a card out of my coat pocket and put it in his beefy hands. "In one hour." I said and headed for the door.

~~~

The best part about my office was that there was a door in the back of it that, when cleverly opened with the cunning use of a doorknob, lead to my apartment. Waiting for Nick was far less of an inconvenience than I wanted him to believe, simply because people who knew me and what I did tended to think that I would do odd detective jobs for them for free. When he got here I was going to tell him that if it wasn't group related I'd be charging him for his time, though I can't imagine what it would be if it was. Did he want me to be his sponsor? In his case he wasn't really trying to recover from using magic, nor was he fighting off the urge to do solo reenactments of "The Little Mermaid" every night, he was just afraid of women. What would he want me to do, get him girls? Did he think I was a pimp?

It was nearly ten, near the time we were supposed to meet and I sat with my feet propped up on my desk and my laptop on my legs going over the case notes from the last few months. Seven cults. I hadn't really thought that much of it honestly. A busy season, yes, but I'd rather deal with kids in Halloween costumes than the real thing any day of the week.

A knock came at my door. I want to say that it sounded nervous, but that was probably just projection. Plus not many people knock on a detective's door at 10:00 at night and are excited. The two groups just don't seem to meet.

"Come in" I yelled, putting my computer down on my desk and adapting a more professional posture. I only had my desk light on, less for effect and more because I preferred not to waste electricity.

Nick stood in my doorway, his huge form taking up most of the space he occupied. He came in nervously and stood at the other end of my desk, his hands clasped tight in front of him.

"Have a seat," I said, "Take a load off."

As he sat down I heard my poor guest chair groan in protest once again. If I kept getting larger gentlemen in my office I'd have to upgrade sooner rather than later.

He kept staring down at his hands in the poor light. He'd yet to say a word. "Can I help you?"

"I... I...." he said "I think I have a problem."

  

"Yes," I said, starting to lose patience. "We've established this, hence why you're here."

"The black spot, how did you get it?"

I was taken aback by the question. The group knew I did magic but I had only told Father Gregor why and how.

"How do you know about...."

"I think I have one" he blurted out.

I was again taken aback. I swore I could feel the black tendrils on my chest twitch at that point, as impossible as it was.

"Um... Okay..." I said not sure what to say. It's not a feeling I have often and not one I'd like to have again.

"I noticed it a few weeks ago. I talked to Father Gregory and he said you had a similar problem. I wanted to bring it up but I didn't know how and then when you brought up the fake book..."

I perked up at that. "Wait, what? You know about the book?"

"Yeah," he said. "Someone in my dorm had a copy and I thought it might have some answers so I took it. And now I think I've been tainted".

"Okay" I said, putting my fingers on my head to preemptively nurse the headache I could feel coming on. "You can't get tainted from a fake Necronmoicon. It doesn't have any power. It's just-"

"But I was!" he yelled then collected himself. I was surprised, this was the most emotional I'd ever seen him get.

I had an idea. "Nick, why don't you show me the taint and I can tell you weather or not it is what you think it is."

Nick looked nervous. "Don't you need more lights?"

I shrugged and clapped my hands twice. The room lit up in an instant. He jumped and I had to stifle a laugh. When I'd first moved in here the voice had whispered that I could use my powers to turn on and off the light to the point where I thought that alone would drive me insane, so I installed a Clapper. Problem solved.

"Okay," said Nick as he stood up. I figured it had to be an errant mole or a rash, something stupid that I could tell him was fine and at worst send him to a dermatologist. At the very least I expected it on his arm or chest, so I was a bit surprised when he started undoing his belt and unzipping his pants.

"Woh Woh!" I said, throwing my hands up. "I said show me THE taint not YOUR taint."

He didn't stop as he pulled down his pants, revealing form fitting UnderArmour underwear. I wasn't sure when he dropped them what I was more surprised by: The fact that there was a man bare from the waist down standing in my office, or the fact that starting at his genitals and tendrilling across his hips and up near his naval was the same black coloring that I had coming from my chest.

"I um..." I said. "I'd like to see this fake Necronomicon and talk to the friend who had it. Also I'll take the case"