Possessed (Pagan Light Book 1)

by JoAnne Keltner

  Walking along a row of antiques, Jackie opened herself up to the object that held the strongest emotions. She was drawn to a curio made of cherrywood. She touched it, closed her eyes, and envisioned it coated in dust, sitting in the corner of an unused room full of objects no one cared about. Neglect was the prominent emotion. She removed her hand from its surface, took a deep breath, and imagined her breath soaking up the feelings of neglect that had settled inside her. Then, she exhaled, imagining the negative energy flowing out of her. She did this several times until she was cleansed.

  That was easy, but neglect was a mild emotion.

  She searched for something stronger. Her intuitive antennae went up as she approached a wooden headboard set. She touched the headboard’s scrolled design and closed her eyes. She envisioned a dim room with curtains drawn and an old man wrapped in dirty sheets, his mouth agape, his lips parched, and his eyes glassed over. The stench of death filled her nose. His son, his only living heir, visits with apathy. He asks the nurse how much longer his father has to live. The old man can’t talk. He stares, eyes frozen open, glazed with death, and his mouth full of stink and rot.

  A bad taste settled on her tongue and her insides felt hollow, as if a disease had eaten her organs and the marrow inside her bones. Her legs gave away and she collapsed. Lying curled on the floor, she couldn’t get up. Her hand was no longer touching the headboard, but death was with her.

  Breathe. Do the cleansing breaths.

  She inhaled, but tasted the putrid air of decay. She coughed and gagged.

  Quiet. Don’t draw attention.

  She tried to hold back the need to gag.

  The camera. If she looked at the headboard through the camera’s lens, maybe she’d be able to disconnect from the emotion.

  She willed her fingers to touch the camera and bring it to her eyes, but her arm muscles wouldn’t respond. She couldn’t even crawl away from the headboard. Her heart raced.

  The store lady and the retired couple were talking about antique pipes. No one knew that she was lying there, and if they did, what would they do, call an ambulance? Another day or two in the hospital was the last thing she needed.

  Babu, help me.

  She imagined lying beside Babu in her bed, her fingers entwined in hers, Babu’s light flowing through her, cleansing her body of decay, pumping life into her dead muscles.

  Jackie crawled a few feet away from the headboard. Her strength renewed, she took in a full breath. Holding it, she let it absorb the traces of death still clinging to her cells. Then, she expelled the tainted air. She did this several times until she was able to get up off the floor.

  The store lady was ringing up the retired couple’s purchase at the counter. “How’s it going?” she asked Jackie.

  “Fine, I think I got what I needed.”

  Babu’s light. It was her crystal, her chotki, her talisman.

  Chapter 37

  As Jason drove Jackie to his house Monday evening, she sat silently in the passenger seat, except for her fingers lightly tapping the door arm. They hadn’t said much to each other since they had left her house. They had awkwardly hugged on the front porch. It just didn’t feel right to her. She didn’t want to be Jason’s girlfriend. She just wanted to be his friend, but she didn’t want to tell him this. Not today. Facing Steve Murphy’s violent energy was scaring her more than the thought of being romantic with Jason.

  “Jackie?” Jason asked, jolting her from her thoughts. He was holding open the passenger door for her. “We have to hurry. Mom will be back from Bible study in about forty-five minutes. Are you ready for this?”

  “I hope so.”

  ***

  In the basement, Jason lit an incense stick and placed it in a holder while Jackie rubbed her hands together briskly. Madam Sophie said the incense would aid in the healing process by making the energies flow more easily.

  “Jason, no matter what happens, I want you to stay right here by the stairs. Don’t come near me.”

  “But what if—”

  “Jason, I mean it. Swear.”

  “Okay.” He didn’t sound that convincing.

  She took the incense holder from Jason and entered the area where the negative energy was the strongest: the center of the room by the recliner and fireplace. The hair on her arms rose. The flyaway ends of her hair did too.

  She placed the incense holder on the fireplace hearth and then sat down in the recliner and spread her fingers on the arms. She rubbed over the hole in the fabric she had created the last time she sat there. Then she focused on Steve Murphy, trying to recall the image of him from the pictures in the news stories she had read. She imagined that he was sitting in this recliner and she was inside his body.

  Her finger wormed into the hole in the recliner arm, breaking the last of its bare threads. Heat ignited inside her. Sweat broke on her face, forehead, and scalp. Her fingernails clawed into the recliner’s arms as she rocked the recliner back and forth in short, jerky movements.

  Nothing ever goes my way. I work my ass off at the garage only to get stiffed out of a raise. My dickhead boss and his lame excuse that they ain’t getting the customers they used to gripes my ass. Wouldn’t stop him from giving himself a raise. His big house and built-in swimming pool. He ain’t hurting. I’d like to take a lug nut wrench to the side of his head. I’d like to take a lug nut wrench to the side of Marianne’s head. Marianne won’t let it rest. Thinks I’m screwing up at work is why I ain’t getting no raise. She’s always bringing up things I done. I know she’s messing around on me. She thinks I don’t know. She thinks I’m stupid. I’m tired of supporting that…

  Jackie’s body trembled like a teakettle ready to blow its whistle. The objects in the room were trembling too: the pictures on the wall, fireplace tools, flat-screen TV. She wanted to rip the recliner to shreds with her bare hands.

  “Jackie!” Jason yelled.

  An object flew past her head and slammed into the wall behind her.

  Don’t let Steve Murphy control you.

  She closed her eyes and imagined she was sitting beside Babu on her bed. A candle was burning by the Virgin icon on her dresser, and Babu was squeezing a chotki bead between her thumb and index finger. Jackie wanted to scream and throw things, grab the chotki from Babu’s hands and tear it to shreds, knock the candle over and set the room ablaze.

  The fireplace tools clanked violently, and the pictures on the walls rattled.

  “What’s going on down here?” Mrs. C. asked.

  “Mom, you’re back,” Jason said.

  “What’s she doing? What’s she doing to my home?”

  “Mom, she’s trying to help.”

  “She’s cursing it. Make her stop.”

  “She’s not, Mom. She’s trying to, uh, get rid of the negative energy.”

  Please go away. Let me finish. Babu is slipping away from me.

  The recliner spun around twice, so fast that Jackie was pinned in place by its force.

  “Get out,” Mrs. C. screamed. “Get out of my house.” She entered the highly charged area and stood before Jackie, her hands on her hips.

  Jackie wanted to strike her, to bash her head against the fireplace stones. “Babu,” she said with clenched jaws.

  Mrs. C. slapped Jackie’s face.

  Jason tugged Mrs. C.’s arm. “Leave her alone.”

  “Get out,” Mrs. C. screamed. “I heard what you did to Peggy’s daughter, Sandra. Get out of my house, you witch!”

  There was too much anger in this room.

  Fight it. Think of Babu.

  The soothing drone of Babu’s Russian prayers and the gentle roll of her tongue over r’s filled Jackie’s head. Pure white light surrounded her, bright and clear like Christmas pin lights. It filled her head, her heart, and her body. The recliner shuddered. Objects flew over her head and smacked the wall behind her. The TV fell from the stand and crashed to the floor.

  “How dare you let her into our home to work her magic?” Mrs. C.
said. “She’s destroying our family.”

  “She’s not. Leave her alone.”

  “Get out!” Mrs. C. scratched Jackie’s arms, trying to uproot her from the recliner.

  Jackie fought the urge to sink her claws into her, to tear her to shreds like she wanted to do to the recliner. The recliner jerked hard to the right, throwing Mrs. C. backward and onto the floor.

  The recliner spun. Jackie closed her eyes and envisioned Babu, the candle burning in her room and the icon of the Virgin. She envisioned Babu rolling the chotki beads between her fingers, and she listened to the drone of her prayers. Babu’s energy squelched the anger and frustration. She breathed and imagined her lungs filling with Babu’s light. Then, she exhaled, letting the energy flow out of her hands and into the recliner arms. She envisioned it flowing through the chair, into the floor, and spreading to the walls.

  The fireplace tools clanked. The pictures on the walls rattled violently.

  “Stop it!” Mrs. C. covered her ears.

  Immersed in the light, Jackie continued to take full breaths and exhale, letting the calming energy flow from her hands.

  The recliner slowly stopped spinning like a Tilt-a-Whirl ride coming to an end. Pictures fell from their hooks and crashed to the floor.

  Everything became still, except for Mrs. C. crying for her to leave.

  “I think I did it,” Jackie said to Jason.

  “I don’t understand what’s going on,” Mrs. C. said between sobs.

  “It’s going to be okay, Mom.”

  “Make her leave,” Mrs. C. said. “I don’t want her in this house ever again.”

  “Mom, she—”

  “It’s okay,” Jackie said. Dizzied from the spinning recliner and the scent of incense, she couldn’t lift herself out of the chair. “I don’t think I can get up.”

  Jason helped her.

  She threw her arm around him and used him for support.

  “Inviting devils into this house,” Mrs. C. said. “Now I know that’s what you do with that creepy makeup and your black fingernails. Devil’s child. I’ll have to get Pastor Phil to cast the devils out. Yes. That’s what I’ll do. And then Bob can come home.”

  Mrs. C. was still ranting when Jackie and Jason walked out the front door.

  Jason drove her home and helped her up the stairs to her room. He helped her out of her coat. She kind of liked Jason taking care of her for a change.

  When Jason left, she fell asleep and had a horrible dream. She dreamed that she was in Jason’s basement about to be beat to death for witchcraft. Mrs. C. accused her of being a witch as the congregation from Holy Resurrection bore witness. Sandra was there, too, pointing at her from her wheelchair and telling everyone she put a curse on her. Father Dmitriev struck her first with a golden candlestick. David was there, too, but he couldn’t save her because she had chosen the other side by taking the power to heal into her own hands. He stood there, helplessly, as the congregation came at her and Babu with anything they could readily pick up—umbrellas, canes, candlesticks.

  Babu took her hand, and the basement walls disappeared, revealing the edge of a forest. “Prikhodi,” Babu said, and they escaped into the dark forest where it was safe. But they were alone and hiding.

  Chapter 39

  At school, Trish—an extra dose of eyeliner beneath her eyes, lips painted blood red, and wearing her Catholic school-girl-gone-bad getup—shot Jackie a daggered look from her locker.

  “I wish she’d just stop,” Jackie said to Zeta. “What did I do to her? What did I do to anybody?” She slammed her locker door shut. “Everybody hates me.”

  “Hey, not everybody,” Zeta said. “Don’t count me in.”

  “I know. Thanks.”

  “Hey, did you help Jason with his problem?” she asked, carrying on her sick, running joke.

  “I hope I did. I gave it my best.”

  Trish shot her another look.

  “Beware the wrath of Trish,” Zeta taunted, smiling and showing her devious eyetooth.

  ***

  In study hall, Jackie sat at a different table than Trish. From several tables over, Trish’s gaze bored into her. She couldn’t study.

  She had enough of this. This was childish. She had always been a good friend to Trish—a true friend—and now this was how Trish treated her?

  Jackie strutted over to Trish’s table. Ignoring Jackie, Trish doodled in her notebook.

  “Trish!”

  She turned her head slowly to look at Jackie. Her lips were drawn as tight as a Victorian purse string, and she had a vehement glare in her eyes.

  “This is silly,” Jackie said to her.

  Trish’s eyes widened as if Jackie had pissed her off by belittling her attitude.

  “How about we talk about this,” Jackie said. “Okay?” She straddled the bench, even though Trish didn’t respond. “Why are you so mad at me?”

  “You should know.”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t be asking.”

  “Jason was mine, and you stole him from me. You never liked him until I did.”

  “Whoa. Jason and I are just friends, just like before. Nothing’s changed.” Why did she have that achy feeling in her chest, like she was lying?

  “Oh, yeah? Is that why you two were all over each other in your bedroom?”

  “Ah... that. How did you, uh, know...?”

  “Jason told me. He said your kiss was incredible, that he never felt anything like it before. How could you? You knew Jason and I did it.”

  “No, actually, I didn’t. I knew you guys made out. I didn’t know you went that far. Anyway, to set the record straight, he kissed me.”

  “And then you kissed him back.”

  “I was, like, in a trance. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  “Jason and I are just friends.”

  “Don’t you think he deserves more than that? How dare you kiss him if you don’t love him?”

  Trish’s words nailed her in the gut. She hadn’t meant to kiss him. Or had she? She didn’t know. She didn’t know what was real when it came to her emotions. “I’m sorry. I’ll talk to him. Honestly. I’ll try to make this right.” She couldn’t make him love Trish, but she could be honest about her own feelings.

  As Trish studied her, Jackie felt her distrust.

  Back at her table, Jackie couldn’t concentrate on her homework. She couldn’t think logically at all. Solving life’s problems was more difficult than solving trigonometry problems. There were just too many factors—human factors. But one thing was for certain: she had to have a heart-to-heart with Jason.

  Chapter 40

  In the lobby of the Starlight Hotel, three scroungy-looking guys in their late forties were sitting on dirty couches watching TV. So was this where you went when your life hit the shitter? They needed to add a Starlight Hotel square to the Game of Life. When you land on it, you leave your family pegs in the car, and go live in squalor.

  The elevator was out of order, so she and Jason walked up a cruddy stairwell to the second floor. Afraid to touch the door handle, she pushed the stairwell door open with her shoulder, contaminating the arm of her trench coat instead.

  “He’s in room 2B,” Jason said.

  The hallway smelled like somebody, or everybody, pissed in it. She wanted to throw up. She covered her nose with her hand, the only way she could zip herself up to this.

  Jason knocked on a grimy, yellow door. The number 2 was crooked and leaning against the letter B.

  The door opened. Mr. C. looked like he had just come home from work. His hair was sweaty, and his shirt and jeans smeared with grease.

  She was still angry with him for hitting Jason, for being the jerk that he was. Despite the violent energy in the house, he was still mean to the core.

  “Hey, Dad.” Jason sounded lighthearted, hopeful.

  “Hey,” Mr. C. said. “Come on in.”

  That was odd, Jackie thought. She didn’t detect any tension w
ith Mr. C. The energy in the room was tranquil, lonely, and remorseful.

  “How’s your Ma?” Mr. C. asked Jason.

  “Psycho,” Jason said.

  Great. That’ll get him to come back home.

  Mr. C. raised his beer bottle to his lips and took a swig. Then he looked at them. “I don’t have no pop or nothing, just water. Got one cup, though. You’d have to share.”

  “We’re good.” She didn’t even want to sit on the couch, let alone put a dirty glass to her lips. She knew she and Jason would laugh about this later—if they didn’t leave with a life-threatening disease.

  “Dad, you need to come home. Mom’s depressed without you.”

  “It ain’t been good there,” Mr. C. said. “I don’t know what’s been getting over me. I’m better off here.”

  “I don’t know, Dad. Mom entertained Pastor Phil for two hours yesterday.”

  “That dirty, rotten snake.”

  “Mom wants you to come home.”

  “I know. She called yesterday evening crying. Said something about your friend here inviting devils into the house.”

  Oh, jeez. That’ll get him to go home too. If I were him, I wouldn’t go back either.

  “What were you two doing in the basement to set her off like that?” Mr. C. asked.

  “We were kind of trying to get rid of the bad vibes,” Jason said.

  Mr. C. leaned back into the couch and picked at the beer bottle label with his thumbnail as he studied Jason.

  “We thought there might be some bad energy in the basement, since every family fight we had happened there,” Jason said.

  “Bad energy,” Mr. C. repeated. “Huh.”

  “Yeah, and Jackie and I got to investigating and found that the former owner killed his wife in the basement.”

  “You know about that?” Mr. C. asked.

  “You knew about it?” Jason said.