CaptainHowdy.com The #1 Exorcist Fansite Since 1999
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Chapter 5
Chris stared at the Ouija board, unable to move. All about her, the sounds of the party continued, though there was a certain electricity in the air, a current that seemed to be flowing in her direction – or, perhaps, in the direction of the board. Or from it, she thought, and shivered.
It lay there in quiet menace, daring her to approach.
“Really, Chris, you must sit down,” Shirley was saying, her tone a friendly mixture of antagonism and curiosity. Other seated guests offered similar invitations, and Chris recognized many of them as fellow actors, some as athletes, and at least two as politicians. For not the first time, she wondered what lay behind their smiles. Regan might still be in the dark, but Chris herself sure wasn’t: she knew that her career had been ruined by the scandalous events in Georgetown even before her talent agency had dropped her, an act they had performed with far less courtesy than the kind they’d employed when collecting their previous, exorbitant fees. No, there was no longer a rivalry betwixt Shirley MacLaine and Chris MacNeil, for it was no longer a contest, which meant that this party was either a celebration of MacLaine’s victory, a pity party for Chris, or perhaps a sickening mixture of both.
She looked back at the two young men who had been watching from across the room. This isn’t to say that they had been the only ones watching her; quite the opposite, actually. Chris had felt like a curious animal on display in a Human Zoo. But those two boys had been different.
As Chris turned toward them, the one with the slightly longish blonde hair stood up and made his way through the crowd, excusing himself politely as he navigated through the throng. He made his way toward the stairs, leaving the second, slightly weasly one behind to maintain his vigil. Of the first, Chris thought: If Regan sees that boy, she’s going to become a teenager tonight. The thought made her think of when she first laid eyes on Howard, all those years ago –
“So, who is this ‘Howdy,” Chris?” Shirley asked, tearing Chris from her thoughts like flesh from a wall. “Don’t keep us in the dark, here.”
Chris sat on the couch beside a famous basketball player, staring at the board. “Come on, Shirley, you don’t believe in these things, do you?”
“Very much. You mean to tell me you’ve never seen a ghost?”
Chris shook her head.
“Come on, never? You’ve never seen or heard something you can’t explain?”
Chris forced a smile. “We star in movies, Shirley. We should be the first ones to know that they’re just make-believe.”
Shirley’s smile hardened, but remained. She sipped at her chardonnay. “I have a particular interest in such things, Chris. You might call it something of an obsession. You’re familiar with reincarnation, are you not?”
“I once saw the Dali Lama levitate.”
“So you do believe in the paranormal.”
“’Psychic’ does not mean paranormal. Mind over matter.”
“But what is the mind that controls the mind that controls the matter?” Shirley leaned back. She looked like a queen lounging upon many velvet pillows. “If it is possible to return from the dead, what gateways are there to choose? New bodies? Spectral non-bodies? Or what if it were possible to become something greater?”
She turned toward the weasly young man with the glasses, wearing his white dress shirt, black slacks and plain tie. Sensing this, he looked away from Chris, becoming visibly uncomfortable.
“Mormons,” Shirley intoned. “They go in pairs, you know. Missionaries. Each is randomly sent to a city he’s never visited, and is given a partner he has never met. Two young men, total strangers in a strange land, each there to keep the other in check. To make sure that each has his mind and heart in the right place. With Heavenly Father.” She turned to Chris. “That’s what they call God. They’re a most unique religion, Chris. Their beliefs on the nature of the afterlife are fascinating, to say the least.”
The missionary had gotten up and fled from observation, disappearing into the crowd.
“They’re not usually allowed to socialize,” Shirley went on, “but I promised them that there was no better place to find lost souls than a Hollywood party.” She laughed, and the surrounding guests laughed too, the response a strangely artificial thing. “But they interest me,” Shirley went on. “Their ideas, I mean. And speaking of interesting, do let’s talk about this ‘Howdy’ fellow you seem intent on avoiding.”
Shirley knew something, Chris realized. Something more than the typical tabloid fodder about the deaths of Burke Dennings, Lankester Merrin and Damien Karras
(dear, sweet Damien)
at the MacNeil home all those weeks ago. No, she knew more. But how? How was that possible?
Finally, she replied in a voice that was tense and terse despite all efforts to sound friendly; she’d simply had enough. “I don’t believe in ghosts. Nor do I believe in reincarnation. And even if I did believe in those things, I really don’t believe that our magical gateway to communication is a board game made by Parker Brothers. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s late, and my daughter and I had a long trip.”
She stood, bidding a retreat through the crowd, sensing that all chat had died to a murmur. They were all listening! she thought of the hundred-plus guests, knowing that it was unreasonable to think so, but unable to help it. This party, the conversations: all of it felt so artificial. A ruse. She went from room to room, looking for Regan, but her daughter had vanished.
She was just about to go through the front door to see if Regan had gone home when she felt a hand upon her arm. She spun around to see the missionary with dark hair, the one who had been listening to their conversation from afar. Instinctively, Chris pulled away, but his grip was tight.
“Let go of me!”
He said nothing.
“Let go of me or I’ll scream!”
“It won’t do you any good. Not here, anyway.” He leaned close. “They’re all wearing masks.” He turned around, making sure that all guests were a reasonable distance away, but the two of them were alone in the foyer. “My partner and I were here to see you. We must talk immediately. It’s of the utmost importance.”
Her mind was reeling. “I’m not interested in your religion, thank you, so if you’ll please let go…”
He did. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking away in shame. “But I had to stop you, I had to talk to you.” His eyes lifted. “We were sent here. To find you. To find Regan.”
Chris’ breathing stop.
“She’s in terrible danger, Mrs. MacNeil, and if we don’t act quickly, no exorcism in the world will do her any good.”
Do you mean Dalai Lama? Chris saw a buddhist monk levitate. I loved the conversation about Mormons but it’s not Shirley’s belief according to her books.
Well, I can’t wait to read Chapter 6. 🙂Yes, Dalai, not Dali. But just because Shirley MacLaine doesn’t believe in Mormon beliefs NOW doesn’t mean that she wasn’t investigating them THEN — so wait and see where the story goes. You will be thrilled, amazed and inspired. And maybe even a little scared. 😉
Think about it this way. Remember that picture you posted, of Regan and Sachi together, like twins? And Chris and Shirley are supposed to be rivals who look a lot alike?
Man, this sounds great already. How are you posting so fast?
Nice real-world homage, cause I heard somewhere that Bill originally wanted Shirley to play Chris in the film of The Exorcist.
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