The Clairvoyant

Chapter Six: Priest's Sin?

   Mary's legs itched, but she couldn't scratch them because her arms were full. If she so much as stepped wrong, her tray of soft drinks would topple. Curse these fishnet stockings.

    She was appeased when she delivered the tray to the table, however. Her burden was unloaded, and the first thing she did when she got back to the kitchen was scratch her itchy legs. How fishnets could ever have been popular, she didn't know.

    "What are you doing Mary?" Barney's harsh southern drawl asked. "Do I pay you to stand still?"

   "No. But you don't pay me very much to move either."

  "Get out there - table thirteen wants you and Wanda is having a fit over it." His eyes roamed her body. "Though I can't imagine why they'd want you."

   "Thanks Barney, I think you're hot too." Mary grinned as her employer's sleezy smile faded.

    Mary rolled her eyes as she strutted in her heels across the diner. The last time - which was also the first time - someone had requested her, they had left her a nice tip. She figured she'd try to turn on the charm now and see if she could beat that amount.

   Wanda, the waitress who usually worked table thirteen was standing with her hands on her hips, disgruntled and clearly offended. "Well why would you want her?" She whined in the voice of someone who had been smoking for fifty years. Her chest was nearly bursting out of her dress as she huffed.

    "What Wanda. Is it ao hard to believe someone came to this shit-shack just to see me?" Mary pouted. She was disgusted with herself... but acting payed the bills.

   Wanda snorted. "Fine, take her," she said to the customer at the table. "Enjoy the innocent tramp." She shuffled away, swaying her hips in a way she thought was tantalizing. Mary wanted to vomit.

"Okay. What can I start you off with, liquor, scotch? Then she saw who was sitting at the table and she wanted the ground to swallow her up.

   "O-oh! Father T-Thomas." Her green eyes widened. She didn't quite know why she suddenly felt naked, but she didn't like it.

   She put a hand over her flat chest, peeking over her neckline and fidgeted with the hem of her dress, wishing it were longer. Oh what he must think of her! Working at Barney's Diner with women who - wait. Why was he here? The hypocrite. Mary folded her arms and glared. So the priest sinned too, hmm?

  "Hello Miss Ripley, please sit down," Father Thomas said, standing up and gesturing for her to slide into the booth across from him. She did, staring at him, waiting for an answer. He had come here for something concerning her, and he was nervous. Faintly scared. Her eyes narrowed, trying to pick up on what else he was feeling.

   "Er... I hope I'm not bothering you..."

   "You're not."

    "Could you... please... not stare at me like you're reading my mind, because I think you're reading it wrong."

  He unbuttoned his jacket, showing off his collar.

   "That means nothing. But tell me what I can do for you? I will warn you though, if it's what all the other men eating here tonight want, I won't oblige."

    Thomas Blundell was insulted at first, that she would ever think he would do that. He respected women and furthermore, he was a priest. He made vows to never indulge in the sins she was speaking of. But then he saddened. She couldn't know too many nice men to be thinking that, could she?

    "Miss Ripley, I tried searching for your number in the phone book, but you were not listed. Yesterday I tried visiting your house, but you were not there. I know that showing up to where you work might be a bit... impolite, but I really would like to know what you were thinking if doing about the Greenville House."

    Mary shivered at the memory of it. One week ago and she still was terrified.

  "Nothing. I can't do anything."

   "But you... didn't you claim to be one of the strongest psychic mediums -"

   "That is one of the reasons, Father. I am a risk to myself and to anyone with me in that house. I could become possessed. I could become a murderer. The second reason, however, is why I won't do anything about it though," she said, waving the first thought to the side. "I don't have enough information. The author of that book I showed you knows much more than I do. She didn't put all of what she knows on paper though because people wouldn't believe her, they'd do something stupid, or the other side would be displeased."

   The other side? Father Thomas was surprised.

    "Is the author still alive?"

   "Yes, but she's ancient and hasn't writte anything in at least three decades."

   "Where does she live?"

   "Maryland. Why?" Mary was now suspicious.

   "I have a proposition. You need more information and I need to fight the devil. Let's go get that information and come back and free the house."

   "Clarify what you mean by fighting the devil?"

   "My conscience cannot allow me to remain silent while a demon ravages and tears at the safety of a community. God tells us to -"

   Mary interupted, laughing. "So you are saying you have to fight a demonic house to clear your guilty conscience so you can say you carried out God's will?" Mary was still cracking up and a few people were turning to look at her. "Forgive me father for I have sinned!"

   Thomas fought back the urge to smile. It was kind of funny in a very wrong way.

    "So will you agree to go to Maryland?"

   Mary stilled. "You're a liar. You aren't telling me the real reason you want to exorcise the house. But I'll go."

   "Mary!" Barney waddled over to table thirteen. "You've been here for eight minutes, what are you doing?"

    "Excuse me, she's taking my order and helping me decide whether or not I should get a Pot Luck Double or sirloin," said Father Thomas amicably. Mary chuckled to herself when he glanced down at the menu on the table and picked the two most expensive things.

   "Well pardon me. Mary make sure you tell your friend here about our various liquors. Excuse me."

    Barney immediately left, impressed and unbelieving.

    Father Thomas turned back to Mary like he did this every day. "Why do you need information?" And let's get off the subject of my lying, shall we?

    Mary leaned back against the crackes leather seat.

   "Why? Because I never get into something without knowing all the details. Which I always know, curtesy of my little... curses."

   "Talents or gifts," The priest said. "The Lord has blessed you.

  Mary scoffed. "Cursed me. They are curses. But anyway, I can't defeat an enemy I can't see, so obviously... I need to see it before I fight it.

   "Anywho, I have to get back to work; my shift's over soon. Did you want to order something or did you just want to come for business?"

   "Actually I am hungry, but I really don't like the funny looks everyone is giving me."

   "Well it is not every day that you see a priest come into a bar and ask for a rendezvous with the trashy help."

   She began to rise.

   Thomas had no idea what made him do it, he just wasn't ready for her to go. His hand shot out to take her wrist, and at the contact, Mary gasped. Flashes came to her. A boy hiding behind a tree, a spotted rocking horse, a woman lying in bed with abnormally white sheets...

   Thomas withdrew his hand, feeling a sting at her cold skin. He had no clue what slideshow was being played out in her head. "What time do you get off your shift?"