The Good Demon Page 16

  Richard put his mouth on my breast and bit. I think that’s what did it.

  I felt the world change colors, I felt light swirl and grow magnificent, and I knew She was taking over, tingling into my palms, into my fingers and my head, into my lips, my eyes. I felt the colors reverse themselves and finally I knew this boy for what he really was.

  The whole world went blank for a minute.

  I couldn’t see. I couldn’t feel anything.

  It was like the way people talk about those isolation tanks, where you’re floating on salt water and there’s no lights and you can’t see anything, you can’t feel or smell anything at all. You start to forget that you even exist.

  It’s nice.

  I awoke on all fours, hissing and growling. I had a warm coppery taste in my mouth, thick as syrup. Richard Holbrook stood about four feet from me, eyes wide with fear. He held his hand, blood gushing all down it. I guessed that was what was in my mouth. I guessed that was what tasted so good.

  I felt wild. I wanted more. I wanted to rip Richard’s head off.

  A pair of hands grabbed my arms, yanking me back. I tried to bite at them—I tried to snap at them with my teeth. I was flipped over and pinned down again. It was Larry. Mom came running out, screaming. I wanted to stop, I wanted to calm myself, to tell them I was okay. But I couldn’t get back control of my body. She was raging, She was too strong, She had all of me. I kept biting at Richard. I wanted to kill him.

  “Go on home, Richard,” said Larry.

  “But I’m bleeding everywhere,” he said. “That crazy fucking girl bit me.”

  “Get your ass on home,” said Larry. “Or I’ll tell your parents you came here to rape my stepdaughter. I will have the cops here in ten minutes.”

  I was wild, flailing, gnashing my teeth at everyone.

  I saw Richard Holbrook stumble off to his car, heard it crank and saw headlights disappear down the drive. Larry flipped me on my stomach and pinned my hands behind my back.

  “Get the duct tape,” he said.

  “You can’t do that to her,” said Mom.

  “Just hurry up and get the goddamn duct tape.”

  Mom went to the house and came back with the tape. Larry bound my wrists together, and then my ankles. He picked me up, careful to hold my face away from his body, and carried me. Larry dropped me on the couch. I flopped off onto the floor.

  I couldn’t stop. I was screaming in Her voice, gnashing my teeth, yelling in languages I didn’t even know. She was out of control. There wasn’t a single part of me that wasn’t Her.

  “Jesus help us,” said Mom.

  Through my mouth She screamed agony in fire.

  “Calm down now, baby,” said Mom. “I love you, darling. God’s going to take care of you.”

  She roared like flames lapped at her feet.

  Larry began to sing a hymn, “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God,” in his reedy pitchy voice.

  She shrieked like he’d chucked Her right in the flames. Oh it hurt, Christ it hurt, I could feel the fire rip through my veins like they were filled with tar, like the word “Christ” was a match tossed and my blood was all gasoline.

  “My God,” said Larry. “She ain’t crazy. She’s possessed.”

  Mom just wept and wept.

  I started hyperventilating, until I couldn’t breathe anymore. Just before I blacked out I felt Her let go of me, I felt my breath return to normal, I wasn’t even scared anymore, and She sang inside me as I passed out.

  A few hours later I woke up locked in my bedroom. I was still taped up, so tired I could hardly move. I heard my mom and Larry whispering from downstairs through the vents.

  “You should have seen her when I first got out there,” said Larry. “Heard all that screaming. She looked like an animal.”

  “But the boy was trying to hurt her,” said Mom. “She was just defending herself.”

  “Christ, Suzanne, she nearly ripped his throat out.”

  I should have let Her do it. I never should have tried to stop Her.

  You never should have gone out there in the first place, She said. I told you not to.

  “You were right,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  It’s not your fault. It’s his. It’s his fault and no one else’s. But it’s too late now. They’re going to take me away from you.

  “What?”

  They’re going to call a preacher, and he’s going to steal me from you.

  I began to cry then.

  Don’t worry, She said. I knew this would happen, sooner or later. Don’t worry at all. I have a plan.

  “What kind of plan?”

  I felt Her smile inside me.

  I can’t tell you yet, She said. It’s a secret.

  Soon Mom came upstairs. I was docile and quiet. Mom un-duct-taped me. I had peed the bed. I watched while Mom stripped the sheets. She kissed me on the forehead and cried.

  Mom said things like, “Oh, my baby girl, your face is gone ghost-white.” Mom cried and cried over me. Later she brought me a bowl of soup.

  I wanted to run, to flee and never come back, but I had no money and nowhere to go.

  I was trapped.

  They called their church in the morning. The big First Baptist church, the one the Holbrooks went to, didn’t do things like that—casting out demons, speaking in tongues, all that wild heathen stuff—but they knew someone who would. The church denied all liability of course, and no one could know how Mom and Larry got this particular preacher’s name. That was fine. Larry wanted it secret.

  And Reverend Sanders came to save me the very next day.

  My phone buzzed. I jolted upright, swiping a long string of drool from my chin. I must have fallen asleep. The clock said three P.M.

  “Hello?” I said, disoriented. I didn’t even look at the number calling in.

  “Clarabella?”

  “Roy! You’re back early!”

  “Yep. Dad said he had to get back to town and take care of something. He’s at his office now.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “Yeah, it does,” said Roy. “But I wouldn’t know. He hasn’t been telling me much lately. Honestly, he seems pretty freaked out.”

  “About what?” I said.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “That’s what’s bothering me. He just keeps saying, ‘This town is filthy with evil. It’s rotten from the top down.’”

  “Jeez. I’m sorry, Roy,” I said. “Can I help?”

  “Any chance you got your mom’s car today? I got a feeling Dad won’t be home till pretty late tonight.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  I ran to the bathroom and brushed all the puke out of my mouth. Then I got in Mom’s car and drove straight for Roy’s house. I already felt so much better. I had really missed him, even more than I realized. The past few days had been a sort of dark, haunted nightmare, and, well . . . I was just so happy to see Roy.

  I swooped into his driveway and Roy jumped in the car. I kissed him twice on the cheek and let him put his arms around me. It felt so good to be held like that, to be warmed by his body after these long lonely days. Roy pulled back from me and looked me deep in the eyes. I felt my heart spark a little bit.

  Behind me the Wish House spirit crept closer.

  “Did you feel that?” said Roy. “It’s like it got cold in here all of a sudden. I’m chilled all over.”

  He held his arm out to me, and the flesh was goosebumped.

  “No, Roy. I didn’t feel anything,” I said. “Nothing at all.”

  I wished I was a better liar.

  “So, tell me about your trip.”

  “Well, it was kind of weird,” he said. “My dad spoke to this youth retreat, right? It was all homeschooled kids, about our age. I spent most of the time in the crowd with them, getting preached to.”

  “That’s strange.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. Dad was all jittery too, nervous-like. I don’t think he slept half the time we were gone. I’d wake up
in the hotel and he’d be sitting up in bed, staring at the TV on mute, muttering to himself.” Roy must have seen the worry on my face, because he laughed. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. I mean, he gets like that sometimes. Usually around this time of year, about when Mom died.”

  “I’m sorry, Roy.”

  “It’s okay. My dad can be pretty eccentric. I’m kind of used to it at this point. But what was really weird was the sermon he decided to preach on. He said he picked it just for me, that it was a message he wanted me to hear.”

  “What was it about?”

  “That’s the thing,” he said. Roy ran his hand through his hair, like he was embarrassed to tell me. “It was about purity.”

  “Purity?”

  “You know. Like sexual purity. Virginity and waiting until marriage, all that. How important that stuff is. How sex can open up a whole world of problems.”

  “It’s weird that he singled you out like that.”

  “Yeah,” said Roy. “It’s like he knows something’s up.”

  Roy looked so sad it almost broke my heart. It was nice to hurt for somebody other than myself for once.

  “But something is up, isn’t it?” I said.

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Roy smiled at me. “I guess it is.”

  We spent the rest of the time making out. It was like time spent healing. I just hoped I wasn’t being selfish and getting Roy sick. When I dropped off Roy back at his driveway a couple of hours later I felt better than I had in days. It was amazing the way closeness to another person could patch you up like that, if only for a little while. I only wish Roy could have stayed with me longer, but he promised his dad he would clean up the house before he got home. Roy didn’t want to give him anything else to be suspicious about. We had only been apart ten minutes before I started missing Roy all over again.

  Maybe that was why She wanted me to be nice to Roy in the first place. Maybe She knew how hideous it would be without Her, how sick and lonely I would feel with Her gone, like my soul was chucked under the wheels of a garbage truck. Maybe She knew that Roy, for all his dorky loser backwardness, could soothe that pain for a little while. Yeah, that had to be it.

  “Thank You,” I whispered to Her, “for giving me Roy.”

  Back home I already felt better. I sat on the porch again for another hour, trying to get Eyeball to come and sit on my lap. He wouldn’t do it, no matter what I offered him, no matter how many treats. It was like he was afraid of me, of the Wish House spirit hounding me around. It was weird. He was never scared of Her, you know?

  I went upstairs and took a shower. I stayed in the water a long, long time. It felt good, like the best kind of warm blanket. The shower is such a private place. Sometimes I like to curl up in a ball, like I’m warm and safe and a baby again. I know that’s weird, but I do it a lot.

  It was coming close to nighttime, and I knew it would be any moment before the Wish House spirit spoke and Gaspar revealed his boon. I was so close to having Her back. I was so close to being happy again.

  I got out and started to towel-dry my hair. The mirror was all fogged up. I moved to wipe it with my hand, but then I stopped.

  Words began to appear on the mirror, written in the steam as if by an invisible finger. I watched it etch, letter by letter, my fate:

  Bring me the boy.

  Jesus Christ. It wanted Roy. Gaspar wanted Roy.

  It didn’t make any sense. I was the one asking for my demon to be found. I was the one who had to walk through that awful old house all by myself. None of that had anything to do with Roy. It couldn’t. Was that why She wanted me to be friends with Roy? So I could hand him over to Gaspar? What would he want with Roy?

  I knew the answer had to lie with whatever happened to Kevin Henrikson. He was the last kid to be delivered to the One Wish Man, right? Other than me, I guess, and Gaspar didn’t want me.

  I wished I could talk to Cléa. That girl knew all about what happened to Kevin, and it seemed like she had the power to do something about it. But Cléa was dead. I guessed the best I could do was talk to the person who knew both Cléa and magic, who probably knew a hell of a lot more about what was happening than she let on—Miss Mathis.

  I still had a couple of hours before Mom got home. I had to go see Miss Mathis, even though Uncle Mike said she was dangerous, that she was evil. Even if it turned out she was a part of the Paradise Society and she’d lock me up with Luther Simpkins, I had to try. This was too important. Roy’s life could be at stake.

  I threw on some clothes and drove to Miss Mathis’s house.

  There was a sign on her door, same as usual. But this time, it said MADAM IS OUT. TRY AGAIN LATER.

  Well, that didn’t help me any.

  What was I supposed to do now? Gaspar wanted Roy and I didn’t know what for, I didn’t know why. I had all these names—Miss Mathis, Kevin Henrikson, Gaspar, the Paradise Society, Cléa—all of them swimming around in my head, clattering against each other, not making a damn bit of sense. Someone had to be able to explain it to me. Someone had to know something.

  I was about to turn back into my neighborhood when I had an idea. Roy had said his dad was scared about something, right? And that the whole town was rotten through with evil. He had even mentioned secret societies and cults. Did Reverend Sanders know about the Paradise Society? Could he give me some answers?

  I couldn’t stand the man. I absolutely did not want to even be in the same room as him. Besides, what would Roy say if he found out I went to see his dad behind his back? But maybe Reverend Sanders knew something I didn’t. He sure knew how to cast out demons, and that was power, something I didn’t have much in the way of right now. Roy said his dad wouldn’t be home until late. Maybe he was still at the church. I would have to suck up my pride, bury my anger. It wasn’t just me and Her at stake now, it was Roy, too.

  I was off to find the man who had ruined my life.

  •

  The church Mom and Larry went to—First Baptist, the one all the rich and popular folks went to—was massive, big as a high school campus, complete with an exercise facility and basketball courts. It had beautiful stained-glass windows from the 1800s and life-size oil paintings of all the previous pastors. The youth group room (which I walked by once, curious) had a movie projector and a pool table and a giant sound system.

  Reverend Sanders’s church was nothing like that. It was tiny, for one, an ugly red-bricked government-looking building just off the highway. The patch of grass in front of the church was brown and dead, and the parking lot had potholes all over it. Inside, the carpet was grey and dour fluorescent lights turned the walls a seasick yellow.

  First Baptist was like God’s house if God was an investment banker, all splendor and gadgets. Roy’s dad’s church looked more like the county DMV.

  The receptionist’s desk was empty, the computer turned off. Still, the air conditioner hummed and the ceiling lights blinkered and the place was unlocked, so I knew Roy’s dad had to be here somewhere. The Wish House spirit hissed in my ears to stop, that I shouldn’t go anywhere near this place, but that didn’t slow me down any.

  I walked down a long hallway, peering into dark rooms and passing locked doors, until I came to a door labeled REVEREND CLIFF SANDERS, HEAD PASTOR. I took a deep breath and knocked.

  I heard the sound of shuffling papers. A man’s voice said, “Come in.”

  Reverend Sanders wasn’t wearing his suit. That’s the first thing I noticed about him. He wore a University of Southern Mississippi T-shirt and his hair was all wild grey-and-black tangles, reading glasses perched on his nose. His office was dark and windowless. An old IBM computer sat on his desk amid piles and piles of papers and one of those green accountant-looking desk lamps. The walls were covered in bookshelves, volumes dangling over the edges, all with a lean to them like they could topple over and squash him at any moment.

  Reverend Sanders scribbled furiously on a yellow legal pad. I realized the Wish House spirit hadn’t followed me in,
that it was afraid of Reverend Sanders. I was still a little afraid myself.

  “Yes?” said Reverend Sanders. “Can I help you?”

  “Hi, sir,” I said.

  Sir? Was I serious?

  “I just had a few questions for you.”

  “I’m sure you do,” he said, not looking up. “We all have questions, don’t we? That’s what this whole business is, the asking of questions. Most of them unanswerable, of course. Who can ask something of God and know for sure he got an answer? Impossible, really. But we ask anyway. And we pray for faith. Now, what can I do for you?”

  Reverend Sanders took off his glasses and squinted at me. I could see a little bit of Roy in him, the slightly befuddled look on his face, the tilt of his head to the left as he peered at me. His smile seemed kind. This man looked nothing like the fierce Bible-thumper who stole Her from me. He seemed more like a sad librarian, or some kind of thwarted philosopher. There was nothing scary to him at all.

  “I’m not so sure you remember me. My name is Clare . . . Clarabella . . .”

  His face darkened.

  “I know who you are.”

  “Yeah. See, I wasn’t sure if you recognized me at first.”

  “I didn’t. And honestly, I’m a bit surprised to see you here. People don’t tend to want to see folks who cast demons out of them again, even under the best circumstances. Reminds them too much of hard times, like bumping into your old bail bondsman. Besides, I didn’t exactly get the feeling that you wanted me there in the first place.”

  I didn’t, I wanted to say. You ruined everything.

  “I wasn’t entirely in my right mind at the time,” I said.

  “Oh, hogwash. I know the difference between a girl and a demon talking. I knew you didn’t want me there, plain as day.”

  “Then why did you come?” I shouted. My eyes blurred with tears. Hold it back, Clare, I thought. Don’t let him know how much it hurt.

  “Because it wasn’t up to you,” he said. “Last time I checked, you’re under your parents’ authority. They called me. I did what I was asked to do.” Reverend Sanders leaned back in his chair. “And frankly, you’ll thank me for it one day. Or you would if only you could see how things would have turned out having that demon inside you your whole life.”