“People like us can easily spark extreme hatred in some people,” Madam Sophie said.
Jackie hoped Madam Sophie hadn’t lured her here to get even for the petitions the town made against her.
“It’s not your fault,” she said.
“It kind of is. I dated her boyfriend a long time ago, and my friend Zeta—”
“No. I mean, what happened to me. You know, back when you made quite a splash with your gift.”
Jackie’s eyes grew wide. “I’m really sorry,” she said, in both sincerity and fear.
“I said it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault, either, the way people were falling all over you, tugging at you and draining you emotionally, spiritually.”
“How’d you know?”
“Who didn’t know in this county? It was in the local newspapers.”
“No, I mean about me feeling emotionally and spiritually drained.”
“I’m psychic. I know exactly how you felt. Drink.”
She took a sip. The temperature was hot, but drinkable. “What is this?”
“Jasmine tea.”
“Oh,” she said, surprised. She had thought it was some special concoction. “It’s good.”
Madam Sophie picked the silver canister from the table and removed the lid. “This, my dear, is marigold salve. It will heal the bruising.”
“Really?” She wondered if Babu knew of any home remedies she could share with her. She must have used stuff like this back in the day when she lived in the old country.
Madam Sophie smiled. “Your great-grandma has a lot to teach you. But you don’t understand her, do you?”
“How do you do that?”
“What?”
“Read my mind all the time.”
“You’re easy to read. You have so much energy. Your thoughts are always out there, hanging in the air.”
Great. Her mind was an open book.
“You’re thinking I’m a freak, aren’t you?” Madam Sophie said.
Jackie shook her head. After all, she wasn’t the one to throw stones here. Okay, maybe she did think Madam Sophie was a littler weirder than she.
“Don’t lie,” Madam Sophie said. “You think I’m different from you. You don’t really know what you’re capable of. I’m not sure if you don’t know, or if you’re just in denial. I think your intuition has been trying to tell you, but your denial keeps silencing it.” She rubbed her finger over the top of the salve. “Lift your shirt.”
Jackie did, but just enough to bare her stomach and waist where Sandra had kicked her. “I think I’ve seen enough of what I’m capable of. I pissed off a lot of people in the past week. People have either been red-hot or ice-cold toward me.”
Madam Sophie touched Jackie’s side with her index finger. The salve was cold, and Jackie flinched. “You have to learn how to protect yourself.” Madam Sophie rubbed the salve all over Jackie’s sides and stomach.
Jackie coughed. A sharp pain sliced through her side beneath her ribs.
“Some Tylenol will help too,” Madam Sophie said and then disappeared into the kitchen. When she came back, she dropped two Tylenol into Jackie’s cupped hand. “That girl that hurt you, there’s something evil about her.”
“You’re telling me.” She popped one Tylenol in her mouth, took a drink of tea, and swallowed, and then did the same for the other Tylenol.
“I don’t mean it metaphorically. You had to have sensed it.” Madam Sophie raised her eyebrows.
“She’s just plain mean.”
“She has an inner tendency to be mean. A combination of her core being and her life experiences. But she’s also one of the susceptible, and her urgency to be mean is stronger.”
“The what?” Jackie really wanted to get up and go home more than she wanted to know the answer to her question.
“The susceptible. Some people in this town have been severely influenced by the solar storm. The energy particles are still in the air. The particles disrupt the circadian rhythms of the body and can make the suicidal more suicidal, the violent more violent, and the mentally ill more ill. Spirits and demons feed off this energy too. And there’s nothing to stop them from taking advantage of the susceptible.”
Jackie believed what Madam Sophie was saying about the solar storm disrupting the circadian rhythms of the body, but she drew the line on spirits and demons. Talk of spirits and demons was nothing more than psychic mumbo jumbo.
“This isn’t psychic mumbo jumbo. It’s nature. But tell me, why is it that you have such avarice toward things of the supernatural? You’ve put up this wall. You’re making yourself sick because of it. You’re half the person you’re supposed to be. Why are you doing this to yourself? Is it out of ignorance or lack of guidance?”
“I really appreciate you helping me. I never knew you were, like, nice. But I really have to get home and give Babu her medicine.”
She nodded. “I’ll drive you.”
“But I drove. My car is parked by an expired meter.”
“I’ll drive your car and walk home.”
“I live about five blocks from here.”
“I know where you live.”
Oh, jeez. She knows where I live. Everybody knows where I live.
“I walk,” Madam Sophie said. “At night. A lot. I find the cool, damp air to be cleansing and energizing.”
Jackie didn’t want to deny her a walk or the opportunity to do another good deed. Never refuse a gift. That’s what her grandma used to tell her. “All right.”
Madam Sophie put on her coat—a pink, quilted jacket with a belt that cinched her waist. It clashed horribly with the crimson paisley of her maxi dress. She helped Jackie into her trench coat and hooked her satchel over her shoulder.
In her car, it was really strange to see Madam Sophie behind the wheel. She pictured herself at that age—boney, wrinkled, wild-haired, committing serious fashion crimes. Quit thinking. She’s reading your mind.
Madam Sophie gripped the steering wheel with both hands as she drove her home. Jackie wondered if she did this all the time when she drove or if she was just trying to soak up her vibes to learn more about her.
She parked behind Mom’s car.
“Thank you.” Jackie was still in shock that Madam Sophie had come to her rescue.
When they got out of the car, Madam Sophie handed her the keys. As Jackie took them from her hand, she wondered how much she had read off them.
“You sure you’re going to be okay walking?” Jackie asked. “My mom could drive you home, if you like.” She was hoping she’d say no. If she didn’t have to tell Mom about this, she wouldn’t.
“I’ll be fine. But you, the persecution is going to get worse. I know I can’t make you do anything against your will, but I strongly recommend you get training, learn how to protect yourself, and learn about your gift.”
The wind ruffled Jackie’s hair.
“If you don’t learn how to protect yourself spiritually and emotionally, you’ll be putting yourself in physical danger, worse than what happened to you today. I can help you.”
“I don’t think so.” Jackie really just wanted to go into the comfort and warmth of her house and never see Madam Sophie again.
“See you soon,” Madam Sophie said, with certainty, and she turned and walked away.
Chapter 22
Babu’s chair was empty, the TV tray back in its rack, and the TV off. In the kitchen, Mom sat at the table eating the mashed potatoes, green beans, and pork roast that Jackie had left warming in the oven for her.
“Where’s Babu?” Jackie asked.
“What happened to you?” Mom asked. “Is that a bruise on your face?”
“I tripped and fell. Does it look bad?”
“Well, with the smeared mascara and the swelling, it looks like you’ve been left for dead. Get some ice on that.”
She already had enough ice on it to cause frostbite, but she didn’t want to tell Mom that. “Where is she?”
“In her ro
om.”
Jackie thought it ironic that Babu included her in her prayers every day, yet her life was slipping down the drain.
“She’s got to take these.” Jackie raised the pharmacy bag.
“Good luck.”
Jackie ripped open the bag of prescriptions, shook a pill out from each of the two containers, and filled a glass of water.
She headed to Babu’s room. Listening by the cracked door and hearing nothing, she asked, “Babu, can I come in?”
“Da,” Babu said.
Jackie pushed the door open with her shoulder and lifted her hand that held the two pills. “Got your medicine.”
Upon seeing Jackie, Babu put her hands on her cheeks and ranted.
“I’m fine,” Jackie said. She set the water glass on the bed stand and sat down beside Babu.
Babu gently touched Jackie’s cheek. “Chto sluchílos’ s toboy?”
“I tripped.” She walked her fingers over her closed fist, which held the pills, and then pressed her knuckles to her thumb. “Tripped,” she repeated.
Babu clucked her tongue. Maybe, even she couldn’t believe that her prayers couldn’t keep Jackie safe.
“I’ll be okay Babu, but you, you need to take this.” She opened her hand to show Babu the pills and then tapped her chest with her other hand. “For your heart.”
Babu threw up her arms and argued.
“But, Babu, this pill will help lower your cholesterol, and this one will widen your arteries.”
She continued to rant.
Mom was right. Babu wasn’t going to take these pills. Jackie imagined herself slipping them into Babu’s food like they did a long time ago for their dog, Buddy. But Babu wasn’t a dog. She should know better. It crossed Jackie’s mind that the only person who could probably get her to take her pills was David. She pushed that thought far back in her mind.
***
At about nine at night, Jackie’s cell phone rang, and Jason’s name and number lit on the display. Maybe he heard about her downtown brawl with Sandra, and he was calling to say she got what she deserved.
“Hello?” she said, even though she knew it was Jason. She wanted to make him work at this conversation.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m… uh… sorry. Things have been crazy.”
“You’re telling me.”
“I miss you.”
“Apology accepted. I miss you too.”
Silence.
“I have a problem,” he said.
Of course he does. “Your dad again?”
“Kind of. I don’t think I should tell you over the phone. You have to come see.”
“I had a really, really bad day myself. If your dad is acting up again, if you think he’s going to go ballistic on you and your mom, call the police.”
“Uh. No. This is… well, you have to see.”
She wanted so badly to put on her pajamas and crawl into bed. Pain shot through her rib cage every time she breathed, and her face hurt like hell.
“Please, Jackie. I promise I’ll never get mad at you again. Well, if I do, I’ll try not to act like a jerk.”
“Hmm. Since you put it that way.”
“I think you should bring Babu’s chotki or a cross or something.”
Was he losing it? “Thanks for the warning. Jeez, Jason, what’s going on?”
“You just have to see. Call me when you get here, and I’ll sneak you in. I don’t want Mom and Dad to know you’re here.”
“I’m not allowed at your house anymore?”
“No, it’s not like that. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Now she was worried.
She dug through her bedroom junk drawer for her chotki and stuffed it into her trench coat pocket.
What am I doing? This is ridiculous. What could possibly be so bad at Jason’s house that it would require a holy relic?
Chapter 23
Jackie parked behind Jason’s truck in his front yard and called his cell. He didn’t answer. She called two more times. Still, no answer.
Worried that something bad had happened to him, she prowled up the front porch stairs and peered through the lace curtains on the front door. Voices, but not a soul in sight.
On the side of the house, the windows were too high to peer into, so she threw a pebble at Jason’s bedroom window. “Jas,” she called, but he didn’t come.
From the back porch landing, she looked into the window. The kitchen light was on, but no one was inside.
On the other side of the house, a light was on in the basement. She squatted and looked in. Through the orange, burlap curtains, all she could see were moving shadows. She pressed her hand against the windowpane. It was warm, like from friction, despite the fact that it was fifty degrees outside. Her palm burned as if she had scraped it against carpet fibers.
The voices were loud. Jackie suspected that the shrill, nervous voice was Mrs. C. The woman screamed, and the shadows moved. Jason yelled and then Mr. C. boomed with accusing tones. Mrs. C. said something and screamed again.
Jackie was about to dial the police, but then thought, what if it was a false alarm? What would she say? She was just snooping around the house and looking in the basement window when she noticed domestic violence about to break out? Besides, Mr. C. would think Jason called, and then he’d really kick the shit out of Jason.
She needed to get inside to make sure Jason was okay. She remembered that Jason always sneaked in through his bedroom window when he was too late coming home. He kept a crate near his window for that purpose.
At Jason’s window, she stepped onto the crate. Her nose was level with the sill and her eyes with the bottom of the window frame. She pushed against the window, trying to lift it. It moved slightly so that there was a hairline crack between it and the sill. She jimmied it again and raised it enough so that she could work her fingers into the crack and lift.
When she finally got the window open, she hooked her arms over the sill and pulled herself upward. A sharp pain cut into her side. She slid back down onto the crate. Of all the days for Jason to call and make up with her.
She took a deep breath, hooked her arms over the sill, and then jumped, pulling herself up at the same time. The movement was so swift that she didn’t feel anything until she was jackknifed across the window with the sill pressing into her gut and bruise. She had broken a sweat, despite the cold. Pushing against the inside of the window frame, she shimmied her body over the edge and dropped with a thump onto Jason’s bedroom floor.
She lay still and hoped that no one had heard her hit the floor. The voices in the basement never ceased, so she got up and sneaked into the hall, past the kitchen, and into the front room. The basement door was open.
Creeping down the stairs, she cringed every time a stair creaked. If Jason’s parents got upset that she entered the house without being let in, she’d tell them the front door was open, that Jason said to just come in. Jason would either go along with her or not say anything at all, for fear of getting the holy-hell beat out of him.
At the foot of the basement stairs, she watched them—Jason, Mrs. C., and Mr. C.
“I told you, I don’t want you seeing him,” Mr. C. said.
Mrs. C. moved toward Mr. C. “I didn’t,” she said.
Mr. C. slapped her face. Mrs. C. screamed.
“Dad, you hit Mom again, and I’ll kick your ass,” Jason yelled.
Jason yelling? How out of character.
Mr. C. drew a backhand. “Come here, you little shit.”
Against her expectations, Jason picked up the iron poker from the fireplace and raised it.
“I told you, I don’t want you seeing him,” Mr. C. said again to Mrs. C., ignoring Jason.
The poker was back in place, out of Jason’s hand. How did she miss that?
Mrs. C. moved in toward Mr. C. “I didn’t,” she said.
Mr. C. slapped her face. Mrs. C. screamed.
“Dad, you hit Mom again, and I’ll kick your ass,” Jason yelled.<
br />
The same scene happened again. They were caught in a script.
Jackie stepped in closer, but not one of them noticed.
“Jason,” she called, but he didn’t acknowledge her. None of them did.
As she got closer, the hair on her arms rose, and some of the hair on her head rose too. A tickling sensation wavered through her body like she was passing through the outer edges of some electric force.
A picture on the mantel fell and crashed to the floor, startling only her.
Inches away from Jason, she looked into his eyes. “Jason.”
“Dad, you hit Mom again, and I’ll kick your ass.” Jason went for the poker. Jackie stepped out of the way so she wouldn’t get jabbed. Another picture fell from the mantel.
“Jason,” she screamed.
The poker was back in the fireplace rack.
“I told you I don’t want you seeing him,” Mr. C. said.
Mrs. C. moved toward Mr. C. “I didn’t.”
Mr. C. slapped her face. Mrs. C. screamed.
“Dad, you hit Mom again, and I’ll kick your ass.” Jason went for the poker.
Jackie placed her hands on Jason’s shoulders. “Look at me. It’s me. Jackie.” The hair on her head shot straight up. The lights dimmed momentarily, and then glowed at their normal intensity.
Whoomp!
The lights went out, and something struck her head.
Chapter 24
When Jackie opened her eyes, Mom was standing over her, a thin curtain drawn behind her.
Mom leaned against the bed rail and touched Jackie’s arm. “I didn’t even know you left the house,” she said.
I’m in the hospital? “What happened?”
“You were hit in the head. They think with a TV,” Mom said.
“Mom! That’s totally not funny.” Her head ached.
“I’m not making that up. It was lying near you on the floor. They arrested that… that...”
“Who?”
“Bob… Mr. C.”
Jackie was confused; her mind, blank. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the events leading up to the hospital. She remembered trying to get Babu to take her medicine and then going to her room. Her phone rang. It was Jason. He was in trouble.
Possessed (Pagan Light Book 1) Page 11
