by Tom Lewis
****
“He seems nice,” Alison commented as they drove home from Hillview.
Cassie shrugged. “He’s okay.”
“What’d you guys talk about?”
Again, the shrug. “Just stuff.”
“Was he helpful?”
“He’s trying to be. But I don’t think he can help me.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because he doesn’t think it’s real. He thinks I’m imagining it. And fixing my brain isn’t going to make that thing go away.”
Cassie watched as her mom took a deep breath, then relaxed.
“Look, I get it, Mom. I know it sounds crazy, and I don’t know if I would believe it if someone was telling me all this, but it’s real. And I really need you to believe me.”
Alison glanced over at Cassie and could see the desperation and sincerity in her eyes. Switzer was right that Cassie really did believe this. “I’m trying, Cass. And for the record, I don’t think you’re making this up.”
“But you don’t believe there’s a ghost.”
Alison thought about it for a moment. “I’m going to be honest with you, Cass. It’s still too new to me.”
“Will you at least try?”
Alison nodded. “I will. And will you work with the doctor?”
“Okay.”
Alison gave her a smile. This was going well. But there was something still pressing on her. “I need to ask you something, Cass. And please don’t get upset.”
“What?” She could already feel herself tensing.
“Have you been thinking about killing yourself?”
Cassie just stared at her. Unbelievable. So that’s why she was being so nice. “Is that what Switzer told you?”
“Don’t be upset. I’m just asking.”
“Would it matter if I said I was? You guys don’t believe me anyway, so why would you believe that?”
“Can you cut me some slack here, Cass. I’m trying.”
Cassie looked at her again and could see the pain in her eyes. This really was tearing her up inside, and she did seem to be trying.
“The answer’s no, Mom. I don’t want to kill myself. What’s waiting for me after death is way scarier than life.”
It was dark by the time they arrived home. The remainder of the drive had been quiet. Cassie regretted the tone she had taken with her mom. It was obvious Switzer had told her something when they spoke after her session, and whatever it was, at least her mom wasn’t yelling like she had earlier. Points for Switzer.
As soon as she got inside, she headed upstairs to her room and booted up her laptop. She pulled up Kyle Martin’s website blog, “Evil hides in the Periphery,” and there was his drawing of the Shadow to greet her.
She looked again at Kyle’s photo, and he honestly creeped the hell out of her. Like Charles Mason creepy. And that’s exactly why she needed to talk to him — because if anyone had answers about that thing, it was him.
She hesitated a moment, then scrolled down to the “Contact” button at the bottom. She was only going to ask him about that thing, and that was it. No harm in doing that, right?
She clicked the “Contact” button, and a messenger window popped open. She typed in the message: “Kyle? Are you online?” and clicked “Send.”
She waited several minutes for a reply, and when none came, she headed to her bathroom to get ready for bed.
She returned several minutes later, brushing her teeth, and found he had replied: “Yes.”
She sat down with a mouth full of toothpaste and quickly typed a new message: “I see it too. What is it?” Again she clicked “Send.”
This time his response came within seconds. It consisted of only two words, but those words froze the blood in Cassie’s veins.
“A demon.”
Cassie stared at those words for almost a minute before sending a new message: “How do you know?”
Again, his response came within a few seconds, and she felt another chill: “The same way you know.”
She thought about his message for a moment, and he was right. She did know. She had known since the night of the Black Mass, and maybe even before then.
Her hands shook as she typed back a message: “Can we meet?” As scary and odd as this guy seemed, there was something much scarier after her. And she needed to talk to someone who understood.
Seconds later his response popped up, and Cassie wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or frightened.
“Sure. Just say where.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Kyle
Justin was at his locker, talking to his buddies Daryl and Tim. They’d been at it for a while now, and Cassie knew this because she’d been watching them from behind her locker door down the hallway. She needed to talk to Justin, but there was no way she was doing it in front of his asshole friends.
She was supposed to meet Kyle that afternoon, and in case he turned out to be as scary as his photo looked, she wanted someone there with her. And that someone was Justin. She knew the old Justin would come in a second — he’d always had her back. But that was in the pre-Molly days, and this new Justin was uncharted territory. And asking him in front of the assholes almost guaranteed a “no.”
So she had waited and waited for the assholes to leave. But now it was almost class time, and there was still no sign of the assholes leaving. She was going to have to do this in front of them. And this really sucked.
She strolled over while they were in the middle of laughing at some joke Tim had cracked. Instantly the laughter stopped, and the boys all turned to stare at her.
This definitely sucked.
“Hey,” she said to Justin, ignoring the stares from the assholes. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Well, check this out,” Daryl jumped in. “Thought you said she wasn’t your girlfriend, J.”
“She’s not.” Justin frowned at Daryl before turning back to Cassie. “What is it?”
“Can we do it in private?” She was noticing the assholes’ stares now.
“Ooh, private,” Daryl jumped back in. “You know what that means, don’t ya? Means the little pee stick came up positive.”
Justin spun around. “What?”
“Means you’re gonna be a daddy, J.” Daryl and Tim cracked up.
“Would you just fuck off,” Justin said, then turned back to Cassie. “I really need to get to class.”
Cassie took a deep breath. Here it goes. “Okay. I’m supposed to meet someone after school today, and I was hoping you would come with.”
“Why do you need me to come?” he asked.
“In case something goes bad.”
“Oh, so you want Justin to be your bodyguard?” Tim clarified.
Cassie looked at him and nodded. “Kinda. Yeah.”
“Well, ain’t that sweet,” Daryl jumped back in. “Justin, the bodyguard.”
“Will you carry my books for me, Justin?” Tim cut in.
Daryl cracked up. “Will you wipe my ass for me, Justin?”
Justin shook his head in annoyance. “Will you kiss my ass for me, Daryl?”
“Only if you wipe it,” Daryl laughed back.
Cassie watched this back-and-forth exchange and finally turned back to Justin. “Please. It’s really important.”
“Ya hear that, J?” Daryl hopped back in. “Your girlfriend here says it’s important.”
That was it. She’d taken this asshole’s shit for too long. She turned to him. “Why do you always have to be a dick to me? I never did anything to you.”
It caught Daryl momentarily off guard, but he quickly recovered. “Uh, maybe it’s ’cause you’re freaky as all fuck.”
“But I’m not like that anymore,” Cassie protested. “Can you just cut me a break? Please.”
“Guess we’ll see, won’t we?” he said smugly.
She knew her plea with him had gone nowhere. Way too much damage had been done during the Disturbances. She couldn’t recall if she had encounter
ed Daryl during that period, but she had encountered people he knew, and those people had talked. And they had been scared shitless.
Cassie turned back to Justin to make a final plea. “Will you help me?”
Daryl looked at her, then turned to Justin. “Maybe you oughta cut your girlfriend some slack there, J. The chick needs your help.”
“Would you just shut the hell up?” Justin was growing impatient. “She’s not my girlfriend.” Then, turning to Cassie, “You said it was this afternoon?”
She nodded. “Yeah. We’re supposed to meet at three.”
Justin’s face looked visibly relieved. He turned to the assholes. “Didn’t coach want us to meet him after school?”
“When did that ever stop you,” Tim looked at him with a smirk.
“Yeah. We’ll just tell coach you’re busy being a bodyguard for your baby mama.” Daryl cracked up at his own joke, and Tim joined in. Justin wasn’t amused.
And neither was Cassie. She took a final look at Justin, and just shook her head in disappointment. “Forget it.”
She turned and hurried off down the hallway. She had to get as far away from those assholes as she could. And that now included Justin.
****
It was early afternoon when Sean spotted Father Jenkins locking the back door of the church. He walked over and joined the elder priest.
“I need to talk to you about something, Father. You have a couple minutes?”
“Of course,” Jenkins replied, sliding the keys into his pocket. “Shall we do it on our way to the rectory.”
“That’s fine,” Sean said, and they began walking. This would be a conversation Sean had rehearsed most of the afternoon, but finding a place to start was proving more difficult than he had expected.
“I don’t think I’m over Amy’s death,” Sean finally admitted, “and it’s affecting me in more ways than I would have thought.”
“How so?”
“I think I first noticed it during that class lecture where the topic of demons came up. It was subtle, but it was something I don’t recall feeling before.”
“And what might that have been?”
Sean shrugged. “Hostility, maybe? Like I said, it was subtle.”
“Might it perhaps have been a resistance?”
Sean thought about it and nodded. “Yeah. I guess you could describe it that way.”
Jenkins seemed to nod knowingly. “And did you feel this when you and I spoke about demons?”
Sean nodded. “Yeah. I felt it then too.”
“And how does this relate to Amy’s death?”
“I never felt it before then. I’ll be honest with you, Father, I came back from her funeral with a lot of nagging doubts, and they’ve only grown worse.”
Again, Jenkins nodded. “The age-old paradox — how can a loving God allow bad things to happen to good people?”
“I’m one of those people who’s asking that question now.”
“And what is it you tell yourself for the answer?”
Sean shrugged. “That’s the problem. I don’t have an answer. At least not one that’s adequate.”
“Then tell me what answer it is that comes to you.”
“I don’t get what you mean.”
“When that voice inside whispers to you, what does it say?”
“You mean the first thing that comes to mind?”
Jenkins nodded. “Most often that’s the case. Yes.”
“That the whole thing’s a fraud. That if there is a God, then he’s indifferent to us.”
Jenkins seemed to anticipate this answer. “When these doubts come, do you find yourself engaging with them?”
“What do you mean?”
“Suppose I were to say something that you knew was untrue, would you attempt to correct me?”
“It depends on what it was. But probably.”
“And you would be right to do so. Now let me ask, when those doubts come, do you attempt to correct them?”
Sean thought about it. “I think maybe I did at first.”
“And you encountered that resistance when you did?”
“Yeah. It was persistent.”
Again, Jenkins nodded knowingly. “I suppose those doubts have a thing or two to say about the Eucharist.”
Sean stopped walking just outside the rectory door, and Jenkins stopped along with him. Sean looked at him as his memory flashed to the Mass he had said earlier that week.
Jenkins seemed to read the answer in Sean’s expression. “I’m going to assume it was rather derisive.”
Sean thought about it another moment then nodded. “It was.”
“Did those doubts have anything to say about those in attendance at the Mass?”
Again, Sean’s memory flashed to the moment he had concluded the Consecration, and his derisive thoughts of those parishioners who watched in awe and reverence. “It wasn’t kind.”
“And is that how you feel?”
Sean shook his head. “No. Not at all.”
“I see,” Jenkins nodded.
“There’s something else, Father. The other day when I was hearing confessions, I heard Amy’s voice come from the other side of the screen. There was no one in there.”
Jenkins raised his eyebrows at this. “And what did this voice say?”
Sean hesitated a moment. “It’s pretty vulgar.”
Jenkins smiled. “I’m quite sure I’ve heard it before.”
“It said, ‘Are you sorry you fucked me, Sean?’ Amy and I had had... an encounter once. No one knew about it.”
Sean watched as Jenkins again nodded knowingly. It was as if a final missing piece of the puzzle had fallen into place for Jenkins. “You know something about this,” Sean observed.
Jenkins nodded. “I know that those thoughts, and that resistance you felt, none of them were prompted by yourself.”
“Then where did they come from?”
“Come inside with me for a moment,” Jenkins said, opening the door to the rectory. “I have something that may provide you with some clarity on this.”
Sean followed Jenkins upstairs to his study, where Jenkins removed a book from his bookcase and handed it to Sean. Sean flipped it over and read the title — A Case for Demonic Possession.
“The danger with demons, Sean, is that to disbelieve in their existence is to be disarmed against them. It’s why a demon will strive to sow seeds of doubt to undermine one’s faith. And you, my friend, are in the process of being disarmed.”
****
The autumn sky had grown dreary and overcast, and a light rain peppered down on Cassie as she shuffled down the lonely neighborhood block.
The street was lined on either side by wood-paneled houses, set back from the road behind grass yards spotted with leaves. Tall elms arched their branches over the road in a canopy of shade.
With the exception of the soft rain, as it pattered down on the leaves and sidewalk, the neighborhood was quiet. There were no sounds of traffic or animals or anything to disrupt Cassie’s memories of the bruising she had just taken from Justin and the assholes. She felt completely alone.
She was so lost in this morose that she failed to notice the man walking his small dog, who had just rounded the corner onto the street. The man paid no attention to Cassie, but his dog seemed curious about her. It was in the way animals detect subtleties beyond humans’ five senses.
And it sensed something was wrong.
Suddenly the dog barked and startled Cassie from her thoughts. She looked across the street and saw it tug furiously at its leash to get loose and come at her.
Cassie was annoyed, like everyone gets when stupid yapper dogs won’t stop barking. But something vicious spoke in her mind’s ear — something subliminal, vague, and ferocious.
I could crush you.
It was the influx of hate she had felt forced on her in class the day Becky Styles jabbed the pen in her eye. The barking stopped abruptly as the dog sensed something no human eye could detect. It
continued to stare at her a moment, with the knowing look in its eyes that it had challenged something it shouldn’t have.
Within a span of seconds, the dog’s look went from confusion, to wounded, to scared. With a terrified whimper, it retreated behind its owner’s leg and began trembling.
I could crush him too, and you both die.
The dog urinated on itself. Its startled owner looked down at it, then over at Cassie. But all he saw was a young teen girl standing there. Or was there something more?
With a worried look, he scooped up his trembling dog, then hurried off down the street.
As they disappeared around the corner, Cassie snapped from the momentary daze that had gripped her. She had heard those thoughts as they pressed on her mind, and in her annoyance at that stupid barking dog, she’d allowed herself to indulge in them. And that willingness to let them in scared the hell out of her. She had to get to Kyle and find out what to do.
She had just started down the block again when she became aware of a sudden stillness — all around her, the sounds had faded. Even the patter of rain was gone. It was the eerie stillness she had felt outside her house the night she saw Rex staring into the forest.
Something was coming.
She first sensed its approach in a light breeze that stirred through the trees. On that breeze came a faint echo of whispers. It was a cacophony of them, each overlapping the other, like multiple recordings played in reverse. There was no language, or pattern, or even actual words — only a single message, conveyed in her thoughts.
Die!
A car horn and screech of skidding tires brought her around. She had wandered into the street while entranced by those sounds and now stood within a foot of the front end of a car. The driver’s door opened, and a boy stepped out that she recognized from the photo on the website.
“Hey. Your name Cassie?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’m Kyle Martin. You were hearing them just now, weren’t you?”
How did he know?
She nodded. “I think so.”
He nodded knowingly. “You better get in.”
He was every bit as scary and sketchy as he appeared in his photo, with his long black hair, dark circles surrounding his eyes, and that pentagram tattooed into his forehead. She also noticed a twitch as he spoke, like someone maxed out on their nicotine dosage. Yet no matter how alarming or unsettling he might appear, he represented her best hope. So she got in.
