“Maybe there’s an undoing ritual in the book.” Dominic was riffling through the pages of the little green book. “You know, that’ll tell us how to get the spirit out.”
“What do you mean, us?” I already missed the feel of his hand in mine. And right now, I wanted it more than ever, if only to help ease my own fear, which was starting to encompass a lot more than just the facts of Cassie’s situation. Things were happening too fast, charging ahead at full speed before we had a chance to come to any real conclusions about anything. What if we were wrong, and it didn’t involve Cassie’s grandmother at all? What if it was some kind of evil demon or crazed spirit? Then what? “Dominic. There’s nothing we can do about this. We have to get a—”
“Wait, look!” His eyebrows shot up as he pointed to a page. Across the top of it, the heading read EXORCISM OF CONJOINED SPIRITS. He slapped the back of his hand against the book. “I knew it! We can undo the conjoining ritual with this. We can totally help her!”
“An exorcism?” I repeated. “You’re not serious.”
“It’s right here.” He pointed to the page again. “Look, it’s right here.”
“You’re out of your mind.” I made a point not to look at the book. “Have you ever seen The Exorcist? Do you know what happens during those things?”
“That’s just a movie, Marin.” Dominic was studying the page, his eyebrows furrowed into a knot. “You know, like The Exorcism of Emily Rose and The Haunting and all those other ones. They amp up all the special effects to make more money. None of that shit really happens.”
“Oh yeah? You know that for sure?”
“Marin.” Dominic looked up from the page. “This is real life, okay? Just listen for a minute.”
I swallowed hard, a slow dread already beginning to move through my veins. “Dominic, I really don’t think that—”
“It doesn’t say anything here about the red room or candles or anything.” He began to read aloud, his excitement mounting: “ ‘Before a conjoined exorcism can begin, the afflicted person must be lying supine on the floor.’ ” He looked at me. “Supine?”
“I think that means flat on her back. But, Dominic, I don’t—”
“ ‘After the afflicted has been settled comfortably,’ ” he pressed on, “ ‘he or she must be in the presence of a single being that possesses a buried heart’ ”—his forehead wrinkled and his voice slowed—“ ‘and a hidden trinity. BE FOREWARNED! This ritual cannot be completed without specific said objects, and should not even be attempted unless both are present.’ ” He looked up at me. “What the hell is ‘a buried heart’ and ‘a hidden trinity’?”
“No idea.” I paused, and then unable to help myself: “They’re not talking about a real heart, are they? Like in a dead person?”
“I don’t know.” Dominic’s eyes were as wide as nickels. “What do you think?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.” I shook my head. “But getting a real heart is totally impossible, unless you’re some kind of crazy person who goes and digs up corpses. And the hidden trinity must be some kind of code that, like, only your grandmother understood. Neither of those things makes any sense.”
“I agree.” He reached up to pull on his earlobe. “Help me figure it out. Just keep talking.”
“I don’t want to keep talking.” I got up and paced the length of the room. Sunlight filtered through the big windows, illuminating a pocket of dust motes; they hung suspended in the air like tiny stars and then vanished again. “The only reason I’m even here is because I wanted to find out more about what happened that day in the room behind the closet.”
“All right.” He interlaced his fingers and locked them behind his head. “Fine. Then I’ll just talk to myself.”
I gazed out at the beautiful scenery through the glass pane: a white, kidney-shaped pool surrounded by deck chairs and tables looked out over a sweeping vista of manicured lawns and cypress trees. A man in jeans and a red baseball cap was riding a mower over the grass, and farther out beyond the pool, another man was washing a black car in the driveway of a four-car garage.
“A buried heart,” Dominic murmured behind me. “Buried as in what? Literally buried? Like in a graveyard, maybe? Or maybe it’s just underneath something. Closed off, in some way. Shit, I don’t know. How about just a heart? Heart as in …” He exhaled again, a loud, painful sound. “As in love? As in … what?”
He’d said his father was in the local office today, that he lived more or less in the tall building downtown. So who was the guy on the lawnmower? And who was the man washing one of their four cars? Did they have a staff? People who just took care of the grounds? I’d never known anyone like that.
“Maybe it doesn’t have to be a real heart,” Dominic continued. “Maybe it can be fake or plastic. You know, like something the Tin Man gets. In The Wizard of Oz. A symbol, you know?”
“The Tin Man gets a plastic heart with a stopwatch on it,” I said without turning around. The man on the lawnmower was creating wide, even swaths in the grass, neat as a ruler. “I doubt that’s what the people who wrote that book had in mind for an exorcism ritual.”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I just … I mean, I can’t imagine my grandmother ever doing anything with a real heart. She used to freak out if she saw a worm on the sidewalk. Besides, the only thing I ever heard about her was that she was just a medium. She wasn’t into black magic or anything. As far as I know, she didn’t go around visiting graveyards or sacrificing dead animals for exorcisms.”
“Maybe she never did a conjoining exorcism,” I said. “And no offense, but I think there’s a lot about your grandmother that you probably never knew.”
He didn’t respond, and I squeezed my eyes shut behind my glasses, wishing for the second time today that I could take my words and put them back in my mouth. I waited, biting my lip. The lawnmower guy had started back down the slope again. Tiny bits of grass spit out from one side, and I could see a series of dark blue ovals under his right arm.
“You’re right,” Dominic said. “She might’ve been someone else entirely when she went into that closet and did her witchcraft. Probably someone I wouldn’t even recognize.” He sighed. “All right, what about a hidden trinity? Do you think that could be as literal a thing as the heart?”
I turned around, crossing my arms over my chest. I’d talk him through this last part and then I was done. I wanted to go home. Besides, it was getting late. “The only time I’ve ever heard anything about a trinity was in church.”
“Right. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Are you Catholic?”
“Marin,” he said, smiling a little. “We both go to a Catholic school.”
I rolled my eyes. He sounded like Lucy. “I’m pretty sure there’s lots of students at St. Anselm’s who aren’t Catholic.”
“Yes, we’re Catholic,” Dominic said. “We used to belong to St. Ignatius’s, but we haven’t been in a long time. My dad knows the priest there. Father William?”
I nodded. “He’s friends with my grandmother.”
“Do you think the trinity means something inside a church?”
“Maybe. Except that it says it has to be hidden.”
“Well, the only Holy Trinity I’ve heard of isn’t exactly visible. But it’s not exactly possible to get, either.”
I thought for a moment. “The word trinity actually means anything with three parts, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Well, then, maybe it can be anything. You know, like a branch with three leaves on it. Or a set of something, like three pictures or three cups.” I shrugged, getting frustrated. “Except that they all have to be hidden. So I don’t know.”
“No, no, I think you’re right about the first part, though.” Dominic wagged his finger in my direction. “I think that’s the way we’ve gotta be thinking. Now we just have to find a set of three things that’s hidden.”
“Yo
u mean you just have to find a set of three things that’s hidden.”
“Yeah.” He leaned back into the couch again. “Shit. This is going to be a lot more complicated than I thought.”
“And you might not get it,” I added. “Or you might get the wrong things and make something even worse happen.”
“We’ll get it,” Dominic said, and then caught himself. “I’ll get it.” He paused, watching me. “I have to. This is my only chance, Marin.”
“It’s not your only chance.” I moved away from the window and took a step toward him. “If you really think there’s a spirit inside your sister, Dominic, you should go tell someone—”
“Who?” Dominic’s eyebrows narrowed as he cut me off. “Who am I going to tell? My parents? They don’t know jack-shit about my sister and me, okay? As far as they’re concerned, Cassie and I are two of the most perfect children on the planet. If I went and told them that I think my grandmother’s spirit is living inside her, they’d laugh in my face.”
“Then tell them about what happened in that room! Tell them what she did! What happened that day!”
“You’re not listening to me.” Dominic clenched his jaw. “They won’t hear me, Marin. They don’t ever hear me, because they’re not here.”
“They’re here now,” I protested.
“Just to get Cassie settled.” His voice fell, and he wrinkled his nose, as if trying to hold back tears. “My mom told me this morning. Now that they’ve gotten a diagnosis and everything’s set with the nurses and the medication, they’re going back. To Florida.”
I staggered backward, aghast. Who were these people? And how could they treat their own children like strangers? Worse than strangers.
“I probably should tell someone.” Dominic’s voice was conciliatory. “And I will. But I’ve got to try this first. I have to. And then if it doesn’t work, I’ll tell whoever we need to tell about everything that happened. I swear.”
I stared at the floor, running a fingertip over the curve of one eyebrow. An already insane situation had somehow just leapfrogged into complete madness. Dominic Jackson was going to perform a conjoining exorcism on his sister in the hopes of extricating their dead grandmother’s spirit from her body. It sounded so ridiculous that I might have laughed if my heart wasn’t lodged in my throat.
Dominic leaned forward, trying to catch my eye. “I know you think I’m crazy, but there’s a really good chance that it’ll work. The ritual that Cassie did worked, right? Why wouldn’t it work for me?” His face twisted in desperation. “If I can just figure out what a buried heart and a hidden trinity are and then find some way to get them, I can save her without anyone ever being the wiser.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” I said. “I just think your idea is.”
“What idea?” We both turned as Mrs. Jackson appeared in the doorway. She was as beautifully dressed as she had been yesterday, this time in a silk dress that wrapped around at the waist and cobalt blue heels with gold trim. The yellow ball in the center of her chest looked slimy, as if it had been coated in fungus. It swayed like Jell-O as she moved, and she had too much makeup under her eyes, which gave her a strange, alien-like appearance. I felt a surge of hate as I looked at her. She was an awful, selfish person.
“Oh, hey, Mom.” Dominic shoved the little book inside his back pants pocket. “Marin and I were just talking.”
Mrs. Jackson’s eyes swept up and down the length of me. Her red lips pursed. “Oh, hello, Marin.” She looked reproachfully back at Dominic. “What are you two doing here? You didn’t go up to see Cassie, did you? I don’t want her getting all—”
“No, Mom, she was just helping me with some of Cassie’s school stuff.” Dominic glanced in my direction, shooting me a “just go with this, okay?” kind of look, and then refocused on his mother. “You know, filling me in on the stuff she’s been missing. It’s no big deal. Don’t get excited. She was just going home anyway.”
Home. The word had never sounded so good.
“Yeah, I have to go,” I said. “I’m actually kind of late.” I took a step out of the sunroom, avoiding Mrs. Jackson’s stare.
“Right behind you,” Dominic said.
I waited until he brought the Jeep to a halt at the first stop sign inside the development. Then I turned in my seat, shifting my knee up, a fence between us. “I know you’re hoping I’ll change my mind about all this, but I won’t. If you’re that set on doing it, you’re gonna have to do it by yourself. I’m sorry, but the first time was too much. I just can’t go there again.”
“I know.” A muscle pulsed in his cheek. “It’s okay.”
I lowered my leg. I’d expected a fight. An argument, at least.
He pushed down on the gas, navigating the car onto Reynolds Avenue. Between us, his track-and-field medal swung behind the mirror; sunlight glinted off the edge, splashing pale, watery shadows across the upholstery. I picked at the trim along the edge of my seat, trying to ignore the vague disappointment curling up in my chest. How could I be disappointed? I didn’t want to do this. Not even a little bit.
“What’s the real deal with your parents?” I asked, switching subjects. “You know, with them not being around and thinking you guys are perfect?”
His hands tensed on the wheel, and for a moment, I wished I hadn’t asked. But then he rocked his head from side to side as if warming up for a fight and took a deep breath. “I probably made it sound like they’re terrible people, but they’re not. They’re just really into their own lives.” He shrugged. “They’re used to doing their own thing, living life on their own terms. They were raised the same way. Their parents were always jetting to one place or another, so I guess that’s all they know.” He bit the inside of his cheek as he made a right on Main Street. “As far as thinking that we’re perfect, they just sort of follow our progress through the nannies’ reports, which are usually glowing.” He lifted one eyebrow, allowing a tiny grin to slip onto his lips. “The not-so-glowing ones usually don’t get sent. Which means that my parents are pretty much in the dark when it comes to any of the bad stuff that happens. Unless it’s an emergency or something, like with Cassie the other day.”
I stayed quiet, listening. For as absent as Mom had been, sleeping through her days, sometimes for weeks at a time, she had always been there for me. Or at least she’d tried to be. I’d gone into her bedroom once or twice during those times and sat next to her on the bed, holding her hand, asking her how her day went, and she had made the effort to sit up both times and talk. The conversation had been stilted and I’d gotten the feeling that part of her, maybe even most of her, wasn’t hearing the things I’d said, but still. She’d sat up. She’d tried. From what Dominic was telling me now, Mr. and Mrs. Jackson didn’t even try.
“They do love us.” He glanced in my direction, checking to see if I believed him. “I mean, there’s nothing they haven’t given us. Ever.”
“Except their time.”
He squinted, as if the light behind the windshield had gotten too bright. “Right. Except their time.” He snorted, and the movement seemed to drop something he’d been holding in, crack some part of the façade. “Sometimes I think they see us more as pets than kids. You know, just something to have because everyone else has one. We add a little bit more to the status report in their social world.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
“It used to a lot more when I was younger.” He shrugged. “Not so much now that we’re older. You can get used to anything, right?”
“Depends on what anything is.” I paused. “Do you really think they’d laugh at you if you told them you thought Cassie had somehow summoned your grandmother’s spirit? I mean, that’s serious stuff, Dominic.”
“I know. But even if they didn’t laugh, it would take a lot to convince them. In their world, the doctor’s word is golden—nothing else matters. As far as they’re concerned they’ve already been given a diagnosis and medication to treat it. Throw in the twenty-fou
r-hour nurses, pay the bill, and the case is closed.” There was a bitterness to his voice that hadn’t been there before, and I wondered if he ever had moments where he missed his mother the way I still missed mine. Even if she wasn’t there for him. Even if deep down, he wondered if she loved him at all.
“Sometimes I think the worst thing about parents is that they forget they were kids once,” I said. “And that they used to feel things too. Just like we do.”
“Yeah.” Dominic turned his head, startled for a moment, and then looked back out at the road. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”
We’d reached the dirt road by then and drove in silence down the length of it. My legs felt rubbery for some reason, as though I’d just gotten off my bike after riding thirty miles uphill, and my hands were cold. It had been a long time since I’d had such an intense conversation with someone, and while parts of it had been uncomfortable, I wished other parts of it would never end.
“Well, here we are.” He pulled the Jeep into my driveway and leaned his head against the seat. He looked drained, as if he had just run a race, which he sort of had. It had been a long day. For both of us. He let his head loll to one side until he was looking at me. “You’re a really incredible girl, you know that?”
I dropped my head, traced an imaginary line on the fabric of my jeans.
“Hey.” He reached out and rested a hand on top of my wrist. “I mean it.”
I looked down at his fingers, at the blue sphere inside his wrist. It would take less than a second for me to bend down and put my lips over it, let them linger there for a moment until he could feel how much I felt for him. I slid my hand on top of his instead, felt my fingers close around his. He leaned closer, brushing my unkempt bangs along the top of my forehead. “It’d be nice to look into your eyes one of these days,” he said. “Instead of always looking at my reflection in your sunglasses.”
I dropped my head and pushed them farther up along the bridge of my nose. “I have to wear them,” I lied.
Be Not Afraid Page 14
