by J. S. Bailey
“Then why haven’t you?”
“Perhaps they were waylaid.”
“Right.”
Thane rolled his eyes. “Come see me, Bobby. I’d love to chat face to face again.”
Thane disappeared.
BOBBY WASN’T overly worried about what Thane claimed to be able to do to him. Bobby’s gift of Prophecy enabled him to sense oncoming danger if someone he knew was about to be harmed, so he would just have to have someone with him at all times.
Easy peasy.
After Bobby finished breakfast, he went into his living room and stared at the photographs he’d placed on shelf hanging over the couch. He’d never been greatly fond of family photos, but Carly had persuaded him to ask Charlotte, his stepmother, to make copies to take home with him after his biological mother’s funeral.
In Carly’s opinion, having the sources of Bobby’s inner demons on display at all times would prevent him from bottling everything up like he’d done for so many years, and if nothing was bottled up anymore, the demons Bobby drove out of the possessed would have fewer painful things to toss back in his face to distract him from his task, like when Bradley’s demon had forced Bobby to relive some of his past sins back in July.
Several photographs of a young Adrian Pollard (donated to Bobby by her sister, whom he hadn’t met until after Adrian’s funeral) smiled back at him from silver frames. Another photograph showed Adrian and Ken, Bobby’s father, striking a pose in front of a lake ringed by autumn foliage. Adrian’s stomach bulged with late pregnancy, and it tore Bobby’s heart into pieces knowing that he was the source of the baby bump and that Adrian had left them just a few weeks after the picture had been taken.
The pictures Charlotte had given him were mostly of Ken, though some featured Bobby as well.
No pictures of Adrian had been permitted in the Roland home during Bobby’s occupancy thereof.
As Bobby stared at the photographs of his late parents, the realization that he was officially an orphan crossed his mind, and his eyes filled with tears.
“I can’t let anyone else get hurt,” Bobby said to the young Adrian immortalized before him. In the picture, she was roughly the same age Bobby was now. “And I won’t.”
Bobby put on jeans and a sweater and ran a comb through his hair before setting out toward Arbor Villa Nursing Home. Before turning the key in the Nissan’s ignition, he dialed Carly Jovingo’s number to ask if she wanted to come with him, but after half a dozen rings it went to voicemail.
Oh well. If Thane influenced one of the nursing home employees to come after him with some improvised weapon, he would just have to fend for himself.
When Bobby backed out of the driveway, his hands shook so badly he could hardly steer right. Willing himself to be calm, he put the car in gear and went.
TRAFFIC WAS light, so it didn’t take long to reach Arbor Villa. The fountain outside the nursing home had been shut off due to the freezing temperatures, and Christmas lights had been strung all along the sandy brick building’s façade to give it some semblance of cheer.
Hopefully this wouldn’t be a mistake.
Bobby went inside the building and approached the front desk, on which sat a miniature Christmas tree and a tiny Nativity scene. The woman who’d greeted him upon his other visit offered him a welcoming smile.
“I’m here to visit Nate Bagdasarian,” he said to her, maintaining a calm demeanor even though his insides were tying themselves into knots. “I wondered if I could go back and see him.”
Her smile faltered. “I’m sorry, but who did you say?”
“Nate Bagdasarian. He lives in Room 39. My friends and I visited him this past summer.”
Her eyes narrowed in deep suspicion. “You must have the wrong nursing home. We have another location called Arbor Meadows just north of Hillsdale. You might consider trying there.”
“But he’s not at Arbor Meadows,” Bobby said. “He’s here. Like I said, I visited him. He’s about forty, has reddish-brown hair, is confined to an electric wheelchair…”
“Sir, we’ve had no such resident, and I’d know if we had. I’ve worked here for eight years.”
“I—I don’t understand.”
“I’m sure it’s a simple mix-up.”
“It’s not a mix-up!” It was all Bobby could do to keep from shouting. “If you don’t believe me, I can have my friends tell you—”
A phone on the desk buzzed, effectively interrupting him. “One moment, please,” the woman said, looking relieved at the disruption. “I have to take this call.”
Bobby gritted his teeth. What in the world was going on?
His first inclination was to wait and continue to press the woman for information once she’d hung up the phone. While the woman continued to talk with no end to the conversation in sight, Bobby changed his mind and casually strode past the desk and down the hallway toward Room 39, mind whirling.
He came to Room 39 and knocked.
A messy-haired young woman with bags under her eyes opened the door. A rail-thin man who was most definitely not Thane lay on the bed while others sat around him talking in low tones. “What do you want?” she asked, looking Bobby up and down with disapproval.
“I—I think I must have the wrong room.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “Um, Merry Christmas?”
A thin, brown eyebrow rose. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”
The woman started to close the door, but Bobby said, “Wait.”
“What?”
He nervously cleared his throat. “How long has your…grandpa?”
“Uncle.” Her tone was flat.
“Well, how long has he lived here at Arbor Villa?”
Throwing a glance behind her, the woman stepped out into the hallway and closed the door. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “How is my uncle any of your business?” Tears threatened to spill from her eyes.
Might as well be honest. “I kind of lied when I said I had the wrong room. Someone I know used to live here, and I thought I’d stop in and see him.”
“You think he died and no one told you?”
“I don’t think so. Maybe they transferred him somewhere else, or something. I hope your uncle is okay.”
The woman heaved a long sigh. “Uncle Pete had a bad fall a few months back, and he’s been living here while he recovers. He moved in back in October.” Her jaw tightened. “I hate seeing him like this, but at least he’s got us to come in and visit. They say having visitors works wonders.”
I’ll bet Graham thought that, too. “I’m sorry. I hope he gets better soon.”
“Thanks.” She placed a hand on the knob. “I hope you find out what happened to your friend.”
Bobby frowned as unpleasant thoughts tumbled through his mind. “Me too.”
CARLY JOVINGO sat in the armchair beside the fireplace paging through War and Peace when it occurred to her that once again she hadn’t heard a peep out of her phone all morning. And with all those jobs she’d been applying for the past few weeks! Weren’t any of them going to call her in for an interview?
She stood up, stretched, and went to her purse, remembering she hadn’t turned the volume back on after she and her mother had gone to see a movie the previous evening. She hadn’t told Bobby, or anyone else for that matter, that’d she’d been looking for work. Come February she would be twenty-two, and while she’d done plenty of grueling work for Randy Bellison over the years, none of it had been for pay.
On Thanksgiving she hadn’t heard the end of it from her maternal grandparents, at whose house they had gathered to stuff bellies and faces. When are you going to get a job, Carly? Why aren’t you in school? Do you really want to live with your parents for the rest of your life? Get a little ambition, for God’s sake.
And so, with great reluctance, Carly had set out and applied for exactly nineteen part-time positions ranging from pizza delivery person to hotel maid. It wasn’t like Bobby had been sending anyone her way to counsel at the safe ho
use. A part-time job wouldn’t interfere with her duties as counselor when she didn’t have anyone to counsel.
Carly dug out her phone and saw that she had thirteen missed calls, all from Bobby.
Uh-oh.
She dialed his number. He answered it before the first ring could complete. “Where have you been?” he asked, sounding breathless. “I’ve been trying to call you.”
“So I’ve noticed. What’s going on?”
“Thane’s gone.”
“What?”
“He’s not at the nursing home, and no one there remembers him. I’ve asked about half the staff.”
“What were you even doing there? Did you talk to any of the residents?”
“A few. They all acted like I’d flipped my lid. Thane showed up in my kitchen earlier and wanted me to come see him. I was stupid for going, I know, but it is what it is.”
Carly felt cold inside. Thane had tormented her just for the fun of it and made her relive what was easily the worst day of her life. A cruel part of her had been hoping the man had died and took his nasty ability with him. “What exactly did he say to you?”
“Long story—okay, not really—are you home?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I’m coming over.”
Carly regarded her book with sorrow. The long months of normalcy had finally come to an end.
“WOULD YOU like some coffee?”
Bradley Scholl jumped and peered up at the priest, who had just cooked a batch of pancakes and set a heaping plate of them out on the kitchen table for him to devour. “Yes, please. And thank you.”
Bradley had managed a few hours of sleep after coming to Father Preston’s house and had nightmarish dreams featuring shapeless monstrosities that mocked him in the dark. When he awoke, he found himself staring at a crucifix hanging on the wall across from the twin-sized bed Father Preston reserved for guests. The sight of it had turned his stomach, and when Bradley made to rush from the room, he found that the door had been barricaded from the other side.
Bobby, the tall man named Frankie, and the priest all claimed to want to help him, but it seemed more and more like they just wanted to lock him away like some kind of animal.
Bradley rubbed his eyes as Father Preston glided toward the coffee maker and set about filling it with grounds and water. The man didn’t look like a priest at all without his black shirt, Roman collar, and slacks—this morning he wore blue jeans and a navy blue cable-knit sweater. Maybe Father Preston thought he would look less intimidating that way.
“Go on, eat,” Father Preston said to him once the coffee started brewing. “You’ll need your strength for when Bobby comes back tonight.”
Bradley reluctantly stabbed a pancake with a fork and laid it on the plate set in front of him. He’s going to poison you, whispered a voice. He doesn’t want to help you at all. Just look at the fear in his eyes!
The voice was right—the priest did look scared. He was afraid of Bradley? What had Bradley ever done to anyone?
He stared dubiously at the pancake, too worried to eat it.
Father Preston sat down across from him, looking about a million years old. “Bradley, you need to trust that I mean you no harm.”
Bradley made no reply. Instead he stared at the blue and white checkered tablecloth, wishing he were back in his lab looking at leaves under the microscope for the sheer joy of it.
“I’m going to be honest and say I’m not used to working directly with people in your position,” Father Preston went on, “but I think that if you trust me, it will work out in both our favors.”
Bradley squinted up at him, unconvinced. “He said I have a demon in me.”
“Yes.”
“Then why’s he dealing with it and not you? And when is he coming back?”
“Tonight, I would assume. You can call and ask him if you’d like.”
Interesting, how Father Preston didn’t answer his first question. One might have thought the man was being evasive.
The coffee maker beeped, and Father Preston rose to fill the mugs he’d left out on the counter. Bradley finally cut off a small portion of pancake and poked it into his mouth.
“Do you mind if I hide in my office for a bit?” Father Preston asked, setting Bradley’s mug on the table. “I need to work on my notes for the Interfaith Conference.”
Bradley almost choked on the bite of pancake. “The what?”
Father Preston’s eyes narrowed. “The Interfaith Conference. Some local religious leaders and I wanted to assemble it to address matters of faith and life to anyone who’d like to attend. It should be interesting—aside from me, we’re having a rabbi, a Methodist minister, a Mormon bishop, an imam, and a humanist.” He smirked. “I can’t help but feel it’s the setup to some irreverent joke.” He paused. “Why do you ask?”
“Because…because…” Bradley could feel himself trembling. “I’ve just remembered the terrible thing I overheard!”
BOBBY SCREECHED to a halt in the Jovingos’ driveway, noting that Carly’s red Chevy Aveo was the only one present. He half-wished her father was there so he could hear what Bobby had to say, too.
Carly waited in the doorway when he got out of the car, her long auburn hair flowing over her shoulders and the burnt-orange tunic sweater she wore over black leggings.
“Do you ever wonder what it’s like to have a normal life?” Bobby asked by way of greeting, striding past her into the warm house.
Carly closed the door and folded her arms. “I was starting to have one until you called me just a bit ago. Now why exactly did you go visit Thane? Surely you weren’t thinking of bringing him Christmas presents.”
Bobby started pacing back and forth in front of the crackling fire. “I told you, he contacted me again this morning.”
“Via apparition, you mean.”
“Yeah. He wants me to turn myself over to him so he can kill me.”
“Does he really think you’re that stupid?”
“He says if I don’t, he’ll kill you.”
Carly’s face paled a shade. “Just me?”
“And other people. Probably everyone I know.”
Her jaw clenched. “He’s bluffing. We know he can’t kill anyone.”
“Did you forget what he made Graham do to Randy?” Bobby stopped pacing to regard her. Though his awkwardness would never permit him to admit it out loud, Carly looked beautiful today.
The thought of Thane influencing someone to murder her made him want to put a fist through a wall.
Carly plopped down in a chair, on the arm of which sat a book the size of a small school bus. “I haven’t forgotten. But why has he waited so long to come after you again?”
“He was probably giving himself time to come up with some harebrained plan to do me in.”
“Don’t forget his other plans nearly worked.”
Bobby knew she was right. First Thane had caused Graham to snap and try to kill Randy—twice!—and when that failed as Bobby became the Servant, Thane began appearing to Bobby pretending to be an angel, simply so he could encourage Bobby into reckless behavior that nearly got him killed.
And it was all because Thane had made a deal with an evil spirit that promised him a healed body in exchange for a murdered Servant.
Made sense in a skewed sort of way.
“What I don’t get,” Bobby said, “is why he’s vanished. He wanted me to confront him, so I go to the place where he lives and find he isn’t there. Where else am I supposed to go?”
Carly chewed on her lip. “That is fairly odd. Do you think he really was there and made you think he wasn’t?”
“I don’t think so. I didn’t sense his aura.”
“Hmm. I’ve got nothing.”
Bobby’s phone rang. He pulled it out expecting it to be Bradley and was surprised to see the caller was Lupe Bellison, Randy’s wife.
The two had married in a small ceremony back in October, and since neither had parents, Phil had given Lupe away at the alta
r. Carly and Allison, Phil’s wife, had lit the candles that were then used to light the Unity Candle.
It could never be said that the Servants didn’t consider each other family.
Frowning, Bobby held the phone to his ear and said, “Hello?”
Lupe’s voice burst so loudly from the phone’s speaker he had to hold it away an inch or two to prevent deafness. “Oh, Bobby, we have bad news. Or good news. I don’t know how to put it.”
Bobby’s gut clenched into knots. “Is everything okay?”
“I still don’t know how to put it. Randy is in our room crying. Graham’s daughter called. Graham—he passed away this morning. A heart attack, she said.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” Bobby heard himself say. Graham had been effectively paralyzed following a severe brain aneurysm, and since he’d been in prison at the time, the state turned him over to his family so taxpayers wouldn’t have to fund his care.
“No,” Lupe said softly. “It isn’t. But he was Randy’s friend long ago, and he hasn’t forgotten that.”
“Is there going to be a funeral?”
“Kimberly said they’re having a family-only service but wouldn’t say where. I wondered…I thought you might come by and try to cheer Randy up. If you have time, that is.”
Bobby looked up at Carly. “We can do that,” he said.
“WE’LL HAVE to make this quick,” Bobby said to Carly when they arrived at Randy’s house together a few minutes later. He still wanted to be able to stop and pick up a few Christmas gifts and then finish delivering the canned goods to St. Augustine’s before returning to St. Paul’s to help Bradley, who hopefully had gotten some rest.
Carly nodded. “Do whatever you need to do.”
Neither of them made a move to get out of the car. Carly leaned her head back into the seat and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Ugh. I don’t even know how to react to this whole situation.”
“Me neither.”
“Part of me wants to be happy that Graham’s gone for good.”
