by J. S. Bailey
“He did?” Phil asked her.
“Yes, just a few days ago. John and I were down by the pool when Nate came in. It’s all perfectly normal.”
“He came in alone?”
“Yes.” The woman’s eyes appeared glassy like she wasn’t fully awake—not surprising given the lateness of the hour.
“Did someone drop him off, then?” Phil asked.
“I believe he drove here himself. It’s all perfectly normal.”
“Ma’am, I mean no offense when I say this, but your son is quadriplegic. He couldn’t have driven here, and if he did, it’s by no means normal.” Just what had Thane done to these people? Their grasp on reality seemed nearly nonexistent.
“How could he be quadriplegic?” Shirley Bagdasarian said. “He’s been walking around here just fine.”
“That’s his apparition. It isn’t real.” A low pain started throbbing behind Phil’s eyes. This little visit was proving stranger than he’d expected. If he’d been a wiser man, he would have stayed at Randy’s house with Ashley to make sure his daughter stayed completely safe from whatever terror Thane had planned next.
The Bagdasarians stared at Phil as if he were mad. He continued anyway. “You’re his parents. For the love of God, you’ve got to do something to stop him.”
The couple said nothing. Shirley continued to stand in the doorway in her swimsuit, and John put a hand on his chin as if brooding about something.
“I don’t know how I can get this to sink in any better,” Phil said. “Your son is a monster, and he’s done something to you just like he’s done to other people. Something bad.” He cringed inwardly at his lack of eloquence. He’d never been one for saying much, opting to think rather than speak, and unfortunately his words now were having little effect on the couple.
“You shouldn’t talk about him like that,” John said without warning. The man stood. “He’s part of our family. Who are you to come in and say he’s a monster?”
Phil looked toward the doorway again. Shirley hadn’t budged.
“Your relation to him doesn’t change what he is,” Phil said. “I’m sorry.”
Shirley’s lip curled, though her eyes remained glassy. Phil was starting to think maybe it wasn’t from fatigue after all.
The next thing Phil knew, something black and fluttering appeared from nowhere and bore down upon him, and a sudden pain brought darkness.
THANE GLARED at the back of the seat in front of him, more than irked at the young woman sitting in the seat to his right, who had chosen to mock him even further by leaning her head against his shoulder like they were lovesick teenagers.
He’d never been so humiliated in his life, and he’d seen more humiliation than most.
He checked the time on his cell phone. Three in the morning, and instead of relaxing in a warm bed, he was cramped in an economy-class seat while cruising 30,000 feet above the surface of the Earth.
He’d wanted first class, but Mia had told him that would be a waste of money that could be better spent on the poor, so she forced him to get the cheaper seats instead.
Most of the passengers around them seemed to either be sleeping or in a late-night stupor. Lucky them.
“I get the feeling you’re not entirely comfortable with me,” Mia said so unexpectedly that Thane jumped.
He leaned to his left in an attempt to remove her from his other shoulder. “I can’t imagine what gave you that impression.”
“I guess you don’t like women, then.”
“Not particularly, no.”
“Oh, I see. Helps explain your fascination with this Roland guy.”
Thane counted to five before replying. “I’m not interested in women or men.”
“So you’re asexual.”
“If you want to call it that.” He shifted in the small seat, wishing that Mia could have chosen to talk about anything other than this.
“It must get lonely for you,” she said.
“Hardly. I’d always wanted to think of myself as self-sufficient, before the accident.” Thane hoped she’d just close her mouth and let him rest a little. Upon landing in Cincinnati, he’d be running on pure fumes.
“I’m not much into relationships either,” Mia went on. “They just complicate things.”
“I’d pity anyone stuck in a relationship with you.”
Mia laughed, and a few nearby passengers stirred. “I’m not as cruel as you think. I’ve had boyfriends before, and I never felt the need to control either of them. It was just…boring. We’d go to dinner and see movies and hang out on the couch watching Netflix, but it just wasn’t me.”
“And what is ‘you’?”
“I don’t know.” Mia frowned. “Sometimes I think I know, but then I wake up in the morning and wonder why in the world I do what I do. I’ve left a few jobs feeling like that. You think you’re making a difference in the world making $4 coffees; then you open your eyes and ask yourself what it’s all for.”
“How old are you, Mia?”
“Twenty-four, not that it matters. Sometimes I wonder if anything does.”
Twenty-four. Just like Thane thought, she was barely more than a child, and already undergoing an existential crisis. How droll. “May I ask you a question?” he asked.
“Sure, but don’t count on an answer.”
“How did you acquire your…ability?”
“Not like you got yours.”
“Then how?”
Mia faced the window, which showed only blackness at this late hour. “I’ve never really understood. Something bad happened to me when I was little. It has to have sprung up from that. Like I had to evolve mentally in order to survive.”
“Let me guess,” Thane said, his interest now more than piqued. “Someone tried to hurt you, and you found a way to control them so they’d stop.”
“Basically.”
“What did you do to them?”
“One had a gun. I made him stick it in his mouth and blow his brains out.”
“And the others?”
“I made one run out of the house and into traffic. He got hit by a bus. I made the last one untie me and call the cops before hanging himself with a necktie in his closet.”
Thane’s skin crawled at the casual way she spoke of the murders. Not that he had any qualms about killing, but to hear her speak of them felt unnerving for a reason he couldn’t place. “How old were you when you did all of this?” he asked.
Mia gazed toward the back of the seat in front of her. “I was nine years old. I just did what I had to in order to survive. Don’t we all?”
Thane sighed. “You know, Mia…I think I underestimated you.”
“How do you mean?”
“At first I thought you were just after my parents’ money, and maybe you are still, but I think I’m okay with that.”
She laughed. “I didn’t think you cared much for them in the first place. But you were saying?”
“You’re a powerful woman, and by the look of it, you came into my life right when I needed it. Bobby and his friends won’t stand a chance if we work together.”
“Well, duh. That’s the point I’ve been trying to make all along. You’re too used to working alone, I think.”
Maybe so, Thane thought.
“Thane?” Mia said.
“What?”
“I’m sorry about the violin. That was immature of me, having you smash it. I can get you a new one once we’re finished with this Bobby business.”
Thane shook his head, hoping she wouldn’t see the mirth that had sprung into his eyes. Here she was, helping plot a murder, and caring more about a musical instrument than she did about Bobby Roland’s life. Perhaps the two of them were more alike than he’d thought.
Bobby was going to be so, so screwed.
BOBBY ROSE sometime in the wee hours of Tuesday morning to use the bathroom and get some water to soothe his burning throat. He had already decided that he and Carly would head back to Oregon once the sun rose. To
think they’d wasted an entire trip! What had gotten into him?
He passed through the entryway and came within inches of knocking over the small table that held Charlotte’s favorite blue and white antique vase that she’d stuffed full of fake white roses, letting out a small sigh of relief. Charlotte’s father had purchased it as a gift on a business trip to China thirty years ago. She’d have killed Bobby if he’d broken it.
He stood at the kitchen sink, staring at the clock and wondering how he was going to explain his actions to Randy and the others. If he’d stayed home, Bradley wouldn’t have run away. He wondered what Bradley had been doing since his escape from Father Preston’s house, and if he was even remotely okay.
Bobby set his empty glass upside down in the sink and turned to go back to bed, then nearly went into cardiac arrest when he saw his doppelganger standing between him and the kitchen table.
“You’re not real,” Bobby said to the image of himself. “I know that now. You’re just in my head to torment me.”
“You’re the one who isn’t real,” the doppelganger said. “So what are you doing in Charlotte’s kitchen?”
Bobby’s skin crawled to hear his own voice coming out of that…thing. “This is all very hilarious. Now why don’t you leave?” he said, doing his best to maintain the pretense of bravery. The doppelganger surely couldn’t hurt him, could it?
The doppelganger scowled. “You’re the one who needs to leave. Maybe you should just kill yourself and do the whole world a favor.”
Even though he knew it was stupid, he lunged at the doppelganger and made to strike him across the face when a voice behind him said, “Dude, what are you doing?”
The doppelganger winked out of existence, and Bobby found himself alone in the kitchen with Jonas, who stared at Bobby’s clenched fist like it might be something dangerous.
Bobby hastily lowered his arm. “Jonas, you scared me. I—I must have been sleepwalking.”
Jonas crossed his arms. “You never used to do that.”
“How would you know? I haven’t even lived here for two years.”
“Yeah. I know. It’s all Mom ever talks about, how you left us. It gets super-annoying after a while.”
Bobby blinked. “She talks about me?”
“You were her first kid. Apparently that makes you special.”
“But I’m not her kid. We’re not even related.”
“She doesn’t seem to think of it that way.” Jonas shrugged. “You’re just going to leave again in the morning, aren’t you? And then you won’t call for months, and I’ll have to keep listening to her moan about how her precious little Bobby doesn’t give a rat’s ass about either of us. Am I right?”
Bobby stared at his brother. Did he really upset Charlotte that much? “I’m sorry,” he said.
Jonas gave a little sniff. “Sure you are. You’re so sorry that you’re just going to change your mind and stay here with your girlfriend for good, right?”
“Jonas, look. I can’t stay here. I’ve got important work to do back home, and I can’t do it if I’m living here.”
“You’re a janitor at a church. Those are some lofty ambitions you’ve got, bro.”
Bobby clenched his teeth and counted to five before speaking. “There are things about me I can’t tell you. Things I can’t tell anyone.”
“I’ll bet your girlfriend knows.”
“Will you stop calling her that?”
“What? I know it’s true. I guess you’re just treating her the same as you treat us. Like we’re not worth it.”
Cool it, the Spirit advised just as Bobby considered punching the smug look off his brother’s face.
Bobby’s shoulders slumped. “Fine. I wasn’t sleepwalking; I came down here to get a drink and saw a demonic doppelganger of myself standing right here. I’m not just a janitor. I’m an exorcist, too. And the demons don’t like it.”
Jonas’s jaw stiffened. “You’re nuts is what you are. I’m going back to bed.” He stormed off in the direction of the stairs, and Bobby stared after him for a long time, unsure of too many things.
“LET’S GET a move on,” Bobby said that morning after Carly had risen. Jonas had gone off to school and Charlotte departed for work, so it was just the two of them.
“Are you sure we should be leaving so soon?” Carly asked as she nursed a coffee at the kitchen table. “It just seems like we’re acting too fast.”
“I can’t stay here anymore. There’s too much drama.”
Carly raised an eyebrow, but Bobby didn’t elaborate. The morning was surprisingly sunny, and the light streaming in through the kitchen window made it a very different place from last night when demons both real and imagined had roamed.
“I was thinking we could go around to a few churches and ask if anyone there knows of anyone like you,” she said. “Just because those Thompson people didn’t pan out doesn’t mean no one else will.”
“Carly, this is freaking Eleanor we’re talking about. We’re more likely to run into drug dealers than Servants.” He winced as invisible knives stabbed his esophagus. “My throat is on fire.”
“Maybe you should see a doctor.”
“Nah, I’ll be fine. Just need some more medicine and I’ll be as good as new.” He swayed in his chair and hoped Carly didn’t notice.
Carly reached out and put a hand on his forehead. Her touch felt like ice. “I could practically roast marshmallows over you right now.”
“So it’s a fever. I’ve had those before.”
“Bobby, I’m not kidding. You’re burning up. How about we find an urgent care and see what you’ve got before you end up contaminating an entire airplane? They do have those in Ohio, right?”
“I don’t want to go to the doctor. It’ll just delay us from getting back.”
“I’m going to chalk up your stubbornness to germs befuddling your brain. It’s been my sworn duty to help the Servant in any way possible, so we’re going to the doctor. Is that clear?”
“It sounds like you aren’t giving me another choice.”
Carly grinned. “He finally gets it.”
Bobby wanted to say more, but at that moment he happened to peer down at his arm, or rather the ugly red gouge that reached halfway from his wrist to his elbow. A small amount of blood trickled from it, and it stung.
“That’s odd,” he said. “I didn’t notice this when I got up.”
“You probably just scratched it on the corner of something,” Carly said.
“I don’t remember scratching it.”
“And I don’t remember getting the bruise that’s been on my ankle for days, but I’m not going to let it worry me. Besides, it’s just a scratch. It’s not like you’ve just noticed your hand is missing.”
SINCE BOBBY was not currently in possession of a vehicle, he and Carly walked the five blocks to the Rivertown Urgent Care over on Jessup Street. His teeth chattered the whole way over, and the moment they reached the door, Bobby turned and stared out at the street with narrowed eyes.
“What is it?” Carly asked.
Bobby frowned. Nothing around them appeared out of place—no one in sight gave them undue attention, for example—yet he couldn’t help but feel that someone had been out there watching him, studying him, unseen. “Probably nothing,” he said as a sharp pain shot through the deep scratch on his arm, reminding him of its unexplained presence.
The waiting room inside teemed with coughing, hacking people of all ages, and in the corner a teenage girl kept hurling into a plastic bag. “I’m going to catch malaria sitting in here,” Bobby muttered after he gave the receptionist his insurance card and other information.
“But at least your sore throat will be gone, right?” Carly’s smile didn’t do much to hide her revulsion. If she didn’t get sick too just from breathing the air in here, it would be a miracle.
Minutes ticked by at a sloth-like speed. Bobby checked the time on his phone for what was possibly the hundredth time when he finally said, “I
’m going to call home just to let them know I’m doing okay. If they call me back before I come back inside, come and get me.”
Carly nodded, and Bobby slipped out the door and breathed in the frigid air, which felt almost divine compared to the germ-infested cloud inside the clinic. If only he could go in for an appointment with zero other patients in the waiting room, he might be more open to doctor visits.
He pulled out his phone and dialed Randy’s number. While it rang, a shout off to his left caught his attention. A short way down the street, a dinged-up gray Ford with Wisconsin plates had parked along the curb, and a twentysomething woman seemed to be arguing with a jack while an older man stood off to the side, cackling at her.
The moment Bobby laid eyes on the woman, his mind filled with a blinding white light like a supernova going off in his skull. What the…?
Before he realized what he was doing, he snapped his phone closed and broke into a run.
TUESDAY MORNING, Kaori Saito hummed to herself as she drove westward along U. S. 52, admiring the river scenery to her left. She and Matt hadn’t gotten too far since Maryland, having run into a demoniac in a small West Virginia town whom Kaori took it upon herself to cleanse, but now they were on the road again, and it all felt so good.
“Breakfast doesn’t sound like such a bad idea,” Matt said at around nine o’clock. They’d been on the road since five-thirty, opting to take the rural highway over the interstate. Interstates got boring after a while, and Kaori felt no sense of overwhelming urgency to get to wherever they needed to go.
“More like second breakfast,” Kaori said. “Did you forget we ate already?”
“That was hours ago. I’m positively wasting away over here.”
Kaori glanced to her right. Matt had his eyes closed and held his hands behind his head. He wore a serene smile. “Yeah, you’re practically see-through. I’ll keep an eye out for restaurants.”
Mile after mile passed by. Kaori drove through tiny river town after tiny river town, seeking out anything that remotely looked like a place to grab some grub, but all she could see other than ramshackle houses were gas stations and mom-and-pop supermarkets that weren’t even open yet.
