“I thought you’d be expecting me,” Jackie said.
Mr. Davis held onto the open door. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“Well, here I am.”
He stared at her like she had caught him with his pants down, which she kind of did.
“I’d like to help,” she said, “but you have to let me in.”
He furrowed his brow and then swallowed. Finally, he opened the door further and stepped out of the entranceway. She took it as an invitation to enter.
Inside, the living room was completely trashed: the sofa heaped with clothes and books, and the coffee table cluttered with empty beer bottles, a half bottle of rum, class essays, and Mr. Davis’s infamous red pen.
Mr. Davis, slumped-shouldered, said, “I just wanted to talk to my wife. To tell her I’m sorry she had to suffer. That I miss her.”
Jackie drew a blank at first, but then it all came together. “Oh. And you let Trish bring over her Ouija board?”
“She showed up at my door with it. She was trying to get me to switch her class hour. She convinced me she could contact the other side.” He pointed to a closed door off from the living room. “We did it in there, where she died.”
Jackie wondered what havoc the solar storm could have wreaked in that room. “So, what’s going on?”
“I didn’t want to ask you to come, but it keeps asking for you.”
“What does?”
“It won’t let me sleep. Alcohol helps, but now, I think I’m going to lose my job.”
Poor Mr. Davis must think he’s being haunted. She touched Mr. Davis’s arm to console him.
The bedroom door flew open.
Mr. Davis startled and stared horrified at the open door.
“Trish?” she called out and took a step forward.
Bam! A powerful force slammed into her and knocked her to the floor. She sat there, jaw-dropped, legs outstretched. Something clamped around her ankles, like two invisible hands, and jerked her forward. She fell backward. Flat on her back, she was dragged across the living room floor, her satchel slipping off her arm. Frantic, she clawed the carpet to keep from being pulled into the room.
But she was.
And the door slammed shut.
She sat in the dark, her heart racing. The force released her ankles, but then something slithered across her lap. Afraid to move, she sat still, every muscle in her body frozen. The something slithered around her side and her back, and coming full circle, it cinched her waist and squeezed her ribs. She could barely expand her lungs to breathe.
A tall votive on the dresser lighted, illuminating a picture of the Virgin imprinted on the glass. Across the wall by the bed, moved a shapeless shadow. It morphed into a shadow of a snake. Slithering along the wall, it divided into two snakes. Entwined, the snakes crept from wall to wall, circling the room like creatures on an eerie carousel.
The dresser mirror glowed and then lit with a scene of people holding candles and singing in front of a huge icon of the Virgin of Vladimir on her front lawn. Flowers, tiny icons and statues, and stuffed animals were propped around the icon.
A hot breath warmed her neck, startling her and sending a chill down her spine.
“Heal me,” a demonic voice hissed. In the mirror, she saw herself at twelve in the grocery store on her hands and knees, heaving chunks onto the polished floor, the woman with the scarf tied around her shaved head bent over her.
The scene changed to Father Dmitriev placing the Holy Eucharist on her tongue. It looked like there was two of him, superimposed. One of him had demonic features—a stretched face, pointed beard, and eyes deep-set and glowing. She screamed out in pain as the Eucharist seared her tongue. Father Dmitriev and his demonic double pointed their finger at her.
“She’s possessed,” they said in unison.
With fear washed across her face, she pointed to the iconostasis. “The Virgin,” she said before the disbelieving congregation. “She spoke to me. She showed me a sign.”
The demon mocked in a girlish tone, “The Virgin. She spoke to me. She showed me a sign.”
A multitude of voices laughed.
“Liar,” the demon said gruffly.
The image changed to her and Trish in the school hallway, a vehement crowd gathered around them.
“You’re nothing but a fake. She lied,” Trish said to the crowd. “She never saw the Virgin.” Trish’s features contorted, and her eyes burned red as she glared at Jackie.
Jackie closed her eyes and envisioned Babu and her light. She imagined the light pushing against the serpent wrapped around her body.
“Babu is a witch,” the demon whispered.
Her eyes popped open. It read her mind.
A multitude of voices whispered around her, but she couldn’t understand what they were saying. In the mirror, Babu and Madam Sophie were hanging upside down from the iconostasis in Holy Resurrection Church, their hands tied behind their back, one leg crossed behind the other forming a triangle.
“Babu is a witch. Babu is a witch,” the multitude of voices said.
The scene switched to Babu standing at a meager wooden alter. Crippled and sick villagers were lined before her. The two women from the photo were at Babu’s side, praying as Babu laid her hands on each of the sick.
The mirror turned dark, and all reflection was lost. Then out of the darkness, three figures emerged, dressed in black dresses and headscarves. They were standing in front of a wooden building, just like in Babu’s photo album.
The voices whispered, like gossip, and then grew louder, and the rhythm of the words grew faster.
Babu ran from the churchyard, escaping an angry mob, some waving their fists and staves. She ran into the forest, just like she and Babu did in Jackie’s dream.
“You persecuted her because she was a healer.”
“Babu is a witch,” the demon said.
“You’re lying.”
The two snake shadows circling the room had multiplied, and the walls were crawling with a multitude of serpentine figures.
She closed her eyes and envisioned Babu sitting in her bed, a country quilt spread over her legs, her chotki entwined in her fingers, and a white light surrounding her as she prayed. “Babu’s not a witch. She’s a devout woman,” she whispered.
The serpent constricted, squeezing her body. She envisioned Babu’s light filling her, protecting her from the serpent. The serpent’s grip loosened slightly, but only to slither around her neck and constrict again.
Struggling to breathe, Jackie sank her fingers into the taut, smooth flesh wrapped around her neck. She couldn’t fight it. Not with her own strength. Not with Babu’s light.
Where was Mr. Davis? Why wasn’t he helping her?
She kicked, trying to scoot backward toward the door. If she banged her head against it, maybe Mr. Davis would open it and break the spell.
She could barely move.
Dizzy and weak, she let her fingers slip from the serpent, and her arms dropped to her sides.
I’m going to die. A silent acceptance washed over her.
Wheezing, she remembered and reached for her coat pocket. The boa constrictor–sized serpent bulged under her arm, shortening her reach. She flopped onto her back. Raised inches off the floor, she bent at her waist. Her fingers brushed the cloth of her trench coat as she searched for the pocket opening. Pulling her coat pocket within reach, she was able to slip her hand inside.
The lightweight rope tickled her palm. Yes! It was still there. Thank you, Jason.
She pressed her thumb and index finger to a chotki knot and frantically prayed.
The serpent’s strength slowly weakened. It loosened from around her and slithered off. She hit the floor. She lay there clenching the chotki and gasping for air.
The votive flame went out, and the door opened.
Slowly, she got up from the floor.
Mr. Davis stood at the open door, his eyes looking more bloodshot than before. “Is it gone?” Mr. Davis asked.
“How the heck would I know?”
“I thought you knew about these things.”
In the living room, she grabbed her satchel, which was lying crumpled on the floor, and she beelined to the front door.
Mr. Davis trailed her. “Will it come back?”
“Probably, but not for you.”
Chapter 52
The encounter with the serpent had left a bad taste in Jackie’s mouth, like metal on her tongue. Her senses had dulled too. She wasn’t picking anything up, no emotions, that is. This would have been a good thing to her in the past, but now, she just didn’t feel like herself.
Her throat had been sore since the incident, as if the demon had stuck its head down it to peer inside her. What had happened at Mr. Davis’s house contradicted all she had believed in, shattered the values she had laid in place to make her believe that she was okay and the rest of the world was insane.
Chapter 53
Over a week had gone by and still, every day, Jackie awoke feeling blah, like something inside her had died. How long would this feeling last? She wished it would pass. Perhaps it was true that once you had tasted evil, you could never get the taste out of your mouth.
She didn’t tell anyone about the incident, not Jason, and not Zeta. To tell them would be like saying, “I’m not the person you thought me to be. My thoughts are false. My world is false.”
She had buried the chotki in her bottom dresser drawer. It had been a tool for the moment. A last resort. But what did she know about God? He was miles away from her heart. She hadn’t known Him since she was a child. Perhaps she really never knew Him at all.
What she needed was to restore her balance. She needed Babu’s light, but Babu wouldn’t come near her. For some reason, she frightened her.
She would have to heal herself.
Legs folded Lotus-style, her hands resting lightly on her knees, palms up, she tried to envision Babu’s light, but the light was dim. Maybe it was because Babu was afraid of her.
She envisioned another light. One that she made up as being somewhere buried inside herself. It was as tiny as a pinhead, or maybe more like a pinhole with light creeping through.
She breathed deeply, taking in the minuscule amount of light, and then she exhaled, casting out the negative energy. Every time she took in a new breath, her senses grew duller.
Her cell rang. She jumped.
It’s just a phone call, not a demonic presence.
“Hey, girl,” Zeta said. “Where you been hiding? It’s Halloween. Did you get your costume?”
“Got it.”
“Jason and I will be over at five.”
“All right.”
“You okay?”
“Dandy.”
“Something going on between you and Jas?”
“No.”
“I hope not. That boy can’t say one sentence without including your name.”
Jackie sighed.
“You’re not thinking of breaking up with him?”
“No, we’re good. It’s me. I just don’t feel like myself lately.”
“It’s the party.”
“No, I’m okay with the party. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t sound convincing.”
Jackie wasn’t convinced either.
Chapter 54
Zeta adjusted the wings on Jackie’s Halloween costume so that the tips extended above Jackie’s shoulders. Then in one gruff move, Zeta bent one of the wing tips downward.
In the freestanding oval mirror in her room, Jackie beheld herself. Calf-high boots with straps and buckles, opaque-black tights, a silken and vixen mini dress, and two black wings—fittingly, one broken.
“I thought you were going as a zombie nun.” Zeta was dressed like a zombie school girl—her hair disheveled, her face white with thick black circles around her eyes, her white blouse sleeves cut at different lengths and ragged, and her over-the-knee socks torn.
“Fallen angel seemed more appropriate,” Jackie said.
Jason sidled behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He was dressed like a zombie priest, although he kept telling her that he was only a seminarian. “It’s okay that we don’t match,” Jason said. “You can fall into my arms anytime.” He kissed her neck. The gentle tickle of it shivered down her nape and across her shoulders.
“Would you two get a room already?” Zeta rolled her eyes.
“We already have one.” Jason squeezed Jackie tighter.
She pressed her fingers into his arms to keep them from constricting and suffocating her. “We have a party to go to, remember?” she asked Jason’s reflection in the mirror.
His dark zombie eyes were glossy and burning with desire.
She spread his hands apart, breaking his hold. His hands fell to his sides. Facing him, she took one of his hands into hers and gently kissed it. She wasn’t ready for what was on his mind, and she didn’t want to hurt him by telling him that. She had already made him suffer long enough with not being able to touch him all these years, but she was still scared to truly open up to him. Perhaps it was because she had shut everyone out for so long, she didn’t know how to behave in any other way. It didn’t help that this blah-ness was making her feel even worse.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said.
Downstairs, Mom was kneeling at the coffee table beside two-year-old Mathew, picking candy out of his pumpkin bucket and inspecting each piece. The room reeked of sugar and chocolate.
Amused, Andy sat in the armchair and watched Mom work. Jackie still couldn’t get over how Mom landed a guy ten years younger than herself. She guessed Mom was still young at heart, even though her divorce and drinking weathered her a bit.
“Jackie, remember how I used to do this for you?” Mom asked.
“Ugh. Don’t remind me. My bucket sitting on top of the fridge taunting me. You divvying out a few pieces a day.”
“That’s because I loved you and didn’t want you getting sick. What time you coming home?”
The question threw Jackie off guard. “At curfew, like always, unless you’re bending the rules.”
“No. It’s just that Andy and I are going to watch Night of the Living Dead. Thought you’d like to join us. Zeta and Jason, you’re welcome too. It’d be like a family night.”
Zeta and Jason shrugged as if considering it.
“I don’t know how long we’ll be out,” Jackie said.
“If it’s nine thirty or ten-ish we could wait.”
“We’re good. You guys go ahead.”
Mom looked uneasy.
“Mom, really. Maybe some other time.”
“All right, then. Be home by curfew.”
“Yes, Mommy.”
Babu hobbled out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee in each hand. She looked at Jackie and shook her head. Jackie found this odd. Babu had always accepted Jackie’s goth-ness. Ever since that night Jackie came home shaken from Mr. Davis’s house, it was as if Babu had been afraid to get close to her. If Babu was like her, Babu must have sensed that she had made contact with a demon, the same one that persecuted her back in the day. But, it wasn’t like they could discuss it. The simple Russian phrases Jackie knew could never describe to Babu what she had witnessed or what she saw in the mirror. But Babu knew something was amiss before it had happened and had tried to warn her.
Babu gave one coffee to Andy and set the other on the coffee table near the heap of candy Mom had already inspected.
“Bye, Babu.” Jackie forced a smile, trying to look happy and normal so Babu wouldn’t worry.
Babu signed the cross in the air and said something to her—or to God—in Russian.
“Take care of my daughter,” Mom said to Jason, a warning look in her eyes. Mom may not be psychic like her, but even Mom knew what was on Jason’s mind.
“I will, Ms. Turov,” he said meekly.
Jackie yanked his arm and dragged him out the front door. Zeta followed, laughing.
; ***
The party was walkable, just a block past Dad’s house. Only his upstairs bedroom light was on. Avoiding trick-or-treaters, no doubt. Jackie hoped he knew that without candy, the scant bit of Halloween decorations he put out wasn’t going to keep his house from getting TP’d. She might even do it herself!
Jackie still couldn’t wait to see the expression on everyone’s face when she walked into the party. She had gotten invited through Zeta, who got invited from someone in her art class, who was invited by the girl who lives there. And of course, Jackie invited Jason. No big deal. These parties were all word of mouth.
The front yard was full of teens in costume with red plastic cups in their hands. Music pounded, vibrated through Jackie’s body, but beside that, she felt nothing, sensed nothing. She would have thought she was perfectly normal for once, if she didn’t feel so blah.
The crowd of teens standing in front of the house parted for her, Zeta, and Jason. In fact, for her it parted wider.
Inside, the house was packed with people, which made it harder for them to clear a space. Will glared at her from the stairs. He was wearing a blood-red tunic trimmed in black—an executioner’s costume. And he had his arm around some other girl. Shouldn’t he be with Sandra? Jackie gave him a look, like “what’s with you and the new chick?”
Sean, dressed like a football player—what else—punched Will’s shoulder. He was sitting a step above Will. Will turned and whispered in Sean’s ear. John, dressed like a clown, joined the conclave.
Jackie touched Zeta’s shoulder. “I’m going to tell them to kiss my—”
“Just let it go,” Zeta said.
“They make me sick. The self-righteous sons of—”
“Jackie, let’s just have fun. Ignore them.”
“Come on, babe,” Jason said. “I’m not dressed for a fight.” He straightened his priest collar.
“Fine. And never call me babe.” Jackie knew if there was a fight, she’d win. She imagined crumpling Will and Sean like tinfoil. Her face burned.
“Wow,” Zeta said, “I’ve never seen you get so angry before. Come on, let’s grab a beer.”
Possessed (Pagan Light Book 1) Page 23
