August Prather Is Not Dead Yet

Chapter 1-2

A young man leaned against the wall. He wore a long black coat, thin fabric that spread out behind him. The rest of his clothing was also black, save the stiff collar that broke at his throat, one square of white. His hair was a honey color and was tied back, but not very well because some had carelessly fallen into his face, highlighting dark blue eyes. He had a slightness about him that had been cut, and then bandaged over by roughly torn paper. It was the way he stood. As though he did not need to be there.

“Kate,” August said as though breaking a cast spell. “This is Father Lyosha.”

“You’re a priest?” Garnet scoffed.

“Yes,” he played back. “What did you think I would be?”

Garnet laughed. August stood between the two of them, glancing back and forth.

“You don’t look like a priest. You’re . . . pretty.”

Lyosha glared. Then he turned his head and smiled, secretly. Garnet frowned.

“I figured it out!” August exclaimed. Her voice echoed through the building.

Both Lyosha and Garnet looked to her. She held up a half-melted orange crayon.

“Of course, there is still the matter of how it climbed out of my pocket and got on that headrest . . .”

“What?” both Kate and Lyosha asked.

August stared at the crayon.

“Well, I guess you can’t get all the answers at once.” She shrugged and put the crayon back in her pocket. “Let’s go get Mitya or we’ll be late.”

Lyosha shrugged and led the way. They went into his side of the confessional and for a moment, stood all together. Lyosha hit something on the wall and the floor started to lower itself. Kate looked up and saw that the ceiling of the confessional had stars painted on it and that the lower they got, the farther away the stars seemed to become. A door opened in front of them and the chamber filled with light, glowing upward, some catching onto the stars. And she just kept looking up . . .

“Come on, Kate.” Someone grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the light.

Garnet found they were in a carpeted living room. Someone had his back turned and was playing a video game on the couch.

August had her wrist. She held onto it, forgetting to let go as she addressed the person on the couch.

“Mitya!” She waved with both of their hands. “We’re going to go on a trip. Okay?”

Mitya didn’t turn their way. Lyosha went over to the couch and plopped down beside him. He leaned over pulled the ear phones out of the man’s ears.

“Having trouble beating the level?” he asked as though no one else was in the room.

Mitya must have responded.

“Did you go to the East tower?”

“Hey, Mitya!” August tried again, dragging Garnet with her in front of the couch.

The man on the couch had dark hair and wore black-framed glasses. His eyes were dark and kind.

“Hello, August,” Mitya smiled quietly. He had the same accent as Lyosha. He hit a button on the controller.

“August wants us to go somewhere.” Lyosha looked to him, taking the controller out of his hands, hitting the button again, and then starting to play the game. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“When do you want to leave?” Mitya stood. He was wearing a suit, all black, except for the white square at the collar.

He was broader than Lyosha, probably older. Kate could see the well-toned muscles of his chest beneath his shirt.

“Who are you?”

“This is Kate Garnet,” August introduced her. “I accidentally kidnapped her.”

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Lyosha said from the couch, his fingers clicking away on the controller, his eyes never leaving the screen in front of him.

“Are you coming with us?” Mitya addressed Kate.

“I guess I am,” she tried. “I mean . . . I don’t . . . I didn’t pack or anything . . .”

“Well, Lyosha has a lot of clothes. You look about his size,” Mitya spoke in a soft, flowing voice.

“I’m not giving her any of my s**t,” Lyosha declared from the couch.

“She’s just borrowing it,” Mitya turned to him. “Lyosha, don’t be rude.”

“f**k!” Lyosha threw down the video game controller. “You made me get killed! There, game over, I lost. Now we have to start over.”

“It’s just a game, Lyosha.” That softness in Mitya’s voice tensed, becoming deeper and more permanent. Lyosha’s eyes went wide, the pupils sinking into pinpricks.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll let her borrow some clothes, Father Mitya,” Lyosha spat the name, turning off the video game and putting the controller on top of the player. “Okay, come on, Kate.”

August let go of Garnet’s wrist. Garnet followed him into a bedroom.

“It’s clean,” she said, sitting on the king-size bed. “Really clean.”

“So was the rest of the place. What did you expect?”

“You just don’t seem like a neat person.”

“Well, you don’t seem like someone I can trust.” Lyosha opened a drawer and started throwing things onto the floor.

“Neither do you. What kind of Russian priest works in a Gothic cathedral in the middle of nowhere?” Garnet laughed. “I feel like I fell down a rabbit hole here, to be honest.”

“How can you tell that I’m Russian?”

“The stacking dolls and vodka that are sitting on your bedside table gave it away,” Garnet jeered, watching clothes fly in the air and land on the carpet.

Lyosha turned and glared.

“Your name is Lyosha.” She held up her hands. “I’m not stupid, I’ve read Tolstoy and Dostoevsky. It’s a Russian name. So is Mitya.”

The boy turned back to the dresser.

“I read one of your books,” he stated. “It was good. I remember liking it.”

“Which one?”

“The one about the two kids in the hospital . . .”

Kate stiffened.

“I . . . I didn’t write that.”

Lyosha dropped the jeans in his hand and stared at her.

“But . . . I . . .”

“No,” she said. “I didn’t write that.”

“Oh.” Lyosha sunk lower. “Sorry. I guess . . . well what did you write?”

“Just a bunch of murder mysteries.” She stood up from the bed and went over to peer inside the second drawer that Lyosha had opened. She picked up a dark-green jacket and gasped. “Oh my God, this is Prada.”

“And?” Lyosha picked out a pair of black slacks and tossed them on the bed.

“Those are Armani . . .” She pointed.

“Yeah, and they’re mine, b***h. I’ve got another pair in here that are white if you want them. White isn’t favorable for my skin tone.”

“That’s a little expensive for a priest.” She picked up a V-neck T-shirt, checked the size and folded it over her arm.

“I inherited a lot of money from my parents. And then invested it.” He handed her a pair of Chanel boots. “Those should be your size. They’re too big on me.”

She scowled but looked. He was right. She set the boots down.

“It’ll be weird to wear these clothes.” She shook her head, accepting another T-shirt and a pair of black slacks.

“As opposed to what? Being naked all the time?”

“Wearing like . . . women’s clothes.”

“Well.” Lyosha looked at her a moment. “Your new low-femme look will be just as good as the high-femme look. You have nice legs. You’ll look hot no matter what.”

Garnet blinked.

“Did I just get hit on by a priest?”

“Sure.” Lyosha’s tone was flat. “Knowing August, she probably never told you how long this trip will last. We’ll probably be gone at least a week. Pack accordingly.”

“A week? Okay.”

After they both shoved everything in their piles into suitcases they returned to the living room. August was playing Pacman on the couch and Mitya was on the phone.

“Yes, that’s what you said the last five times.” Mitya leaned against the kitchen counter tapping a pen restlessly on a notepad. “Yes, it’s right here on your list from last month . . . No, faucets turning on and off by themselves is not a new phenomenon . . . Neither is the laughter coming from under the stairs . . . Children’s toys moving by themselves? Well, that started happening two months ago.”

“Who is it?” Lyosha ran over to where Mitya was standing.

“Susan,” Mitya mouthed.

“Again?”

“Yes, we’ll do the regulars . . . No, they shouldn’t be coming back, but when you build on top of a cemetery, there is not much you can do . . . See you in a few minutes . . . Good-bye.” Mitya ended the call, rubbing his temples. “Susan . . . Every first of the month . . .”

“Are you kidding? She wants us to check them out again?”

“Apparently Susan thinks that there’s a new development.” Mitya flipped through the pad of paper in front of him.

“What’s happening?”

“The same claims as last time.” Mitya shook his head. “Would you go take care of it?”

“By myself? No f*****g way. I’m not going to deal with Susan by myself.” Lyosha folded his arms and sat down beside August on the couch. “You do it.”

“Well, I have to pack.” Mitya came up and stood behind the couch. “Besides, she likes you better than me.”

Lyosha laughed bitterly.

“She likes me? The last time we went over there, she called me a communist.”

“What did you say to that?” Mitya asked.

“I told her that Jesus was my comrade.”

Mitya laughed.

“That woman is nuts, did you see her wall of crosses?” Lyosha continued.

“Makes you wonder if the ghosts are just after her because she tries too hard.”

“Ghosts?” Garnet dropped her suitcase.

“Oh, you’re still here.” Lyosha bit.

“Ghosts, yes, ghosts.” Mitya turned, a crease forming between his eyes.

“What the f**k did you think we were talking about? Do we look like exterminators to you?” Lyosha kept it up.

“So . . . you’re . . .” Garnet faltered.

“Exorcists,” they both said at once.

“Oh,” Garnet said shortly.

“Why don’t you go and take her with you?” Mitya turned back to Lyosha.

“Take her with me? What am I supposed to say she is?”

“Your sister?”

“We look nothing alike,” Lyosha scoffed.

“Why don’t you ask Kate if she wants to go?” August suggested, turning to grin at Garnet.

“Kate, do you want to go?” Lyosha tried testily.

“Okay.”

They stared at her a moment as the silence rolled by.

“Well, go get the briefcase, Lyosha.” Mitya shrugged.

Lyosha shook his head, but left the room. Garnet followed him back into the elevator. They went back up with the press of a button. Only, they didn’t stop at the confessional floor, they kept going up into the stars that Garnet had noticed earlier. When they reached close enough to touch them, the elevator stopped.

Lyosha sighed and unfastened a seamless hatch. Out of it fell a ladder, which he proceeded to climb and vanished into the ceiling. He returned in a moment with a smart black briefcase in one hand.

“You know anything about exorcising?” He folded the ladder back up into the hatch.

“Sure.” Kate scratched her head as the elevator went back down.

“Well, most of the time, we get false alarms. A lot of people think their houses are haunted and they aren’t. People have creaking stairs and doors that won’t stay closed. So usually it’s boring. You just put on a show, do a little check up to see if they have any credible activity and then, when they don’t, you leave.” Lyosha led her through the church and out the door she had entered. They went around the side of the building.

“Okay.”

GHOSTS“You don’t believe in stuff like this, do you?” he said as they drove down the empty road in his mint green Fiat.

Garnet wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I guess I don’t know,” she decided.

“Well, I wish that I could show you a more convincing house but unfortunately the Levinsons have absolutely zero credible activity. We’ve been going to their house monthly and haven’t found a f*****g thing.” Suddenly on the horizon there appeared a vast whiteness. The shape of it got larger and larger until Garnet could see individual houses standing in rows on top of rows. They all looked the same.

“They built this place recently. And they built it on top of a cemetery, so that’s provided a lot of fun for us, especially since we came out here to have some peace and quiet.” Lyosha drove through the gate. Mirage Canyon the sign read. Lyosha scoffed.

“It’s not a canyon. And it’s not a f*****g mirage, I would hope Hell is better than this f*****g little suburban deathtrap.” Lyosha drove down a windy street around perfectly manicured lawns and smooth cement driveways. “I mean, if I was lost in the desert and this was the hallucination playing in front of me, I think I’d prefer the grim reality of vultures peeling the flesh off my bones. Anyway, we’re here.”

The house that they parked in front of was indistinguishable from any other. It had a white vinyl back and a brick front. And it was two-s********e classical elements attempted a door surround but otherwise the front was flat with clean white windows looking out, without the ability to look in. Except the sign, the tell-tale sign. It had an American flag on it that said God Bless America.

Lyosha walked up to the front and rang the doorbell.

“Listen,” he said to Garnet beside him. “Just play along with whatever I decide you’re supposed to be . . . and if she asks you, I’m not a communist . . . and if I start to say ‘f**k,’ you can step on my foot, okay?”

The door opened and a spindly blonde woman answered the door. She was roughly seven feet tall and her hooked nose and beadle eyes squeezed their way out of her swollen face.