The Iron Bells

by Jeanette Battista

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I wake the next morning with a horrible crick in my neck and a dull ache in my back.. I stretch carefully, mindful of my sore neck and back and think about what I have to do today. If Ryland is moving up the timetable on the Gate mission, I have to free Patrick now. I have an idea of what I'm going to need to do, but I can't do it alone. I need at least one more person.

  I already know who I'm going to ask. I throw on fresh clothes before making my way to Dham's room. It's late enough that he should be awake. I think. I knock lightly, just in case. After a few moments, the door opens.

  "Hi Dham." I stand there for a moment admiring his face before I continue.

  “How are you feeling?” He peers over my shoulder, as if he can see through my clothing. “How’s the back?”

  "It’s fine. Look, I was wondering if you had time to help me with something?"

  "Sure, Am." He runs a hand through tousled hair. He blinks sleepily at me. "What kind of something?"

  I hesitate. There's a part of me that doesn't want to tell him, not yet. But that wouldn't be fair to him—how is he supposed to make an informed decision if I don't tell him the truth? He's going to find out soon enough. And I don't want him tricked into helping me. "Come up to my room, and I'll show you."

  He laughs. "Well that's an invitation I can't refuse."

  I blush, realizing how it must have sounded. I begin to stammer out an explanation, but Dham stops me. "It's okay, Amaranth. I'm kidding. I'll be up in a sec."

  I troop back upstairs, resisting the urge to beat my head against the wooden banister for being such a complete idiot. What is wrong with me around him? Okay, he's quite cute, but I'm so off-balance when I'm with him. If I'm not being unintentionally rude, I'm being ridiculously dorky. Couldn't I just stabilize to mildly geeky and be done with it?

  Dham's as good as his word and follows after me a few moments later. When we get to my room I close the door and gesture for him to have a seat anywhere. I begin to pace as I try to think of where to start. "I need your help. It's about my friend, Patrick."

  "Do you need me to help you look for him?" I'd filled in Dham about Pat's disappearance to explain my absences, but hadn't told him much else.

  I shake my head. "I've found him actually."

  "That's great!" He sees the look on my face and his happy expression fades. "That's not great." His brows draw down in confusion. "Do we need to bust him out or something?"

  "Kind of." I chew my lip, then sigh. I gesture at the pile of paper sitting on the bed next to him. "I've been doing some research and I think I've found a way to get the demon out of him."

  "Exorcism?" He sounds dubious, as well he should; exorcisms have been notoriously hit or miss when dealing with demons, and now I know why. Most of the time the demon would not be expelled at all, or the possessed would die during the process. Exorcisms were only used as a last resort, especially since there weren't enough holy clerics around to perform them.

  "Not exactly." I take a deep breath. "He's had the demon bound inside him. I'm going to try to break that binding."

  "I don't get—"Dham's eyes widened in horror. "Our guide to the Gate? Patrick's the one they got?"

  I nod. “I didn’t know when I asked Ryland to help me find Patrick that he’d use him for this.” I drop my head in my hands, feeling betrayed all over again. My voice is full of anger and hurt.

  "A, you can't be serious." Dham's voice is hesitant. "Have you tried talking to Ryland?"

  I get up to pace. "I already have. He knows I know, but he doesn’t care. That’s how I got the assignment on your team. I blackmailed him."

  Dham stands up and walks over to me. "Look, I know it seems harsh, but he's got a good reason for doing it." He puts both hands on my upper arms and forces me to look at him. "We need a guide to get into Christ Church. Think of the Gate, of the good we can do."

  I meet his eyes, trying not to feel hopeless. "Dham, please. Patrick's not just my friend, he's my family—the only bit I have left. I can't just leave him to this—not after what happened to my mother." My eyes drill into his, serious and unblinking. "If it were your friend—your family—would you stop? Would you just let it happen?"

  He blanches, skin growing paler and I see the hurt hovering behind his eyes. I remember that he's lost a sister and wonder the circumstances behind it. Did I just push him too far? Had he been faced with a similar decision and made a different choice?

  We stand there in silence for what feels like hours, although logically I know it can't be more than a few seconds. I lower my eyes, positive that he's going to refuse to help now that he knows what I'm truly asking. "I'm sorry I ask—"

  "Okay," he says at the exact same moment.

  My eyes flash back up to his face. He doesn't look happy, but he seems decided and steady. "Are you sure?"

  He nods. "I don't particularly like it. But you're right." He releases my arms to rub his face. "If it were my friend, I'd want to help. It isn't right what Ryland did." His hands drop to his waist, where the belt that holds his bells usually hang. “Do I need to get my bells?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think they’ll be necessary.” And they might attract attention. I narrow my eyes at him. "We could get in a lot of trouble."

  "Now you're trying to talk me out of it?" His smile chases the shadows from his face.

  "Just warning you." I expected to be relieved if he said yes, but my stomach feels like it's tying itself in tighter knots. My voice comes out harsher than I want it to.

  He leans in close, so close that his breath tickles my ear. "I'll tell you a secret." I can feel my breath hitching as my heart begins to race. I wonder if he can hear the staccato quicktime beat of it. "I don't mind some trouble if you're with me."

  I can feel the blush creep up my face, the heat of it burning in my cheeks. My stomach clenches, the knots in it forgotten. I duck my head, hoping he won't see the effect his words have on me. I can't get a handle on him—one minute I think I'm imagining that he could possibly like me and the next I'm blushing at his attentions.

  "I…uhm…okay," I manage to stutter out, sliding away from him. He straightens, looking completely nonplussed by my withdrawal. Could I have imagined the undertones in his voice? Had he just been teasing me? I grab my notes and shove them in my backpack. It's already loaded down with the supplies I'll need: candles, salt, knife. I sling it over my shoulder. "Let's go."