by Wendy Cole
“You’re adorable.”
I growled, a genuine growl, like a rabid animal. “Go away. Leave me alone. Don’t come back. I don’t want you here. You suck.”
“And you’re adorable.”
“I’m leaving!” With all the willpower I possessed, I somehow managed to get up from the booth, grabbed my computer, and slowly walked away. If he followed, I purposely didn’t notice. My car was like a finish line, my body solely focused on reaching it.
I did, and I’d just gotten my key in the door when large hands clutched my shoulders and whipped me around. I opened my mouth, prepared to scream, yell rape, or fire, or I don’t know you combined with a knee to the groin.
Instead, I gaped. Two electric blue orbs, glowing like a neon sign, bore into me. They swirled and danced, mesmerizing until I not only wasn’t pulling away, I leaned closer.
A humming noise left Brady’s throat, deep and smooth. It vibrated his chest like a cat’s purr, and I felt it because I clung to him. Why was I clinging to him…it?
“I have to go,” I said, snapping out of my stupor.
What happened? Why had I done that? I looked up at him, and his eyes were back to normal. He stared at me intently, studying, his smile replaced by an expression made of stone.
“I have a date tonight!” I snapped, saying the first thing that popped into my head.
Wasn’t that what girls said when a guy wouldn’t back off? I have a boyfriend? Did that rule apply to these extraordinary circumstances? Something told me it didn’t.
“He’s a great guy. Amazing really. Very talented.”
Brady glared at me but didn’t speak.
“Gotta go.” I turned to get into the car and breathed a sigh when he didn’t stop me. When I had it cranked and in reverse, however, it didn’t budge.
My window started to lower, with no action on my part to make it do so, and before my brain could even process, Brady leaned into the opening.
“Don’t play games, Sweetheart.”
I turned, leaned back when his face was far too close, and glared at him. “I stopped playing games a long time ago,” I said. With that, I punched the gas, and to my relief, the car lurched backward.
Brady got out of the way with a speed that shouldn’t have been possible. I took one last look at him as I sped out of the lot.
Glowing red eyes stared back at me.
CHAPTER SIX
Those red glowing eyes set an unstoppable course in motion. I didn’t go home. I didn’t go hide in some corner of the world, or dig a hole to stuff my head inside. Although, I’d be lying if I said neither of those options crossed my mind.
No. I drove, purposefully and perhaps a bit illegally, to the only place I thought would be safe.
Our Lady of Lourdes didn’t look like the Vatican. It didn’t look like some impenetrable fortress where I could spend my days, become a nun, and be done with it all.
Regardless, I parked my car and rushed to the large wooden doors that stood somewhat ajar. Definitely not secure.
When I entered, the room swallowed me in its emptiness. Row upon row of seats lined either side of an aisle, all vacant. At the front, hundreds of candles sat, all lit, the only source of light apart from what little sun could make it through the painted window panes.
I walked forward, each step echoing as it tapped against the plain wooden flooring. I’d almost reached the front, when I saw a man, probably in his late thirties, step out from somewhere in the back. His eyes caught sight of me, and he offered a warm smile to cover his surprise.
“Hello, dear. Can I help you?”
“Are you Father Bayshore?” I asked as I came to a stop just a couple of feet in front of him.
He smiled again. “I am. Did you want to confess?” He motioned towards what looked like a large box with two doors.
I’d never been inside one but had seen enough movies to know how it worked. “Anything I say in there is confidential, right? You can’t tell anyone?”
The priest smiled. “That’s correct.”
I liked the idea. “Alright then. How do we start? Which side do I go in?”
He chuckled lightly, then motioned for me to follow him. I did, and the moment he opened the first door and waved his hand for me to enter, I stiffened.
Closet.
“It’s alright. We are all sinners. We confess so that we may be forgiven.”
I looked at the small bench inside, then nodded. My fear was irrational. I was in a church. He couldn’t—it couldn’t come here.
Father Bayshore closed the door, and a moment later, a little window beside me opened. I leaned forward and peeked through. A screen kept me from really seeing more than an outline, but still enough to know that he was there.
“How do we start?” I asked, nose slightly pressed to the opening.
He chuckled again. “I take it you aren’t Catholic?”
“Well…no. Do I have to be?”
He paused. “I don’t suppose you do, but may I ask, if you aren’t Catholic, then why have you chosen to come to Our Lady of Lourdes?”
I took a deep breath. “I need your help. There’s a—” The words locked in my throat.
“What is it that makes you pause?” he asked in a voice that was nothing but calm.
“You won’t believe me.” I heard him shuffle, saw the outline move as he too leaned closer to the opening.
“There are many non-believers in this world. I can assure you, faith is a bit of a requirement for my line of work.”
I laughed. “You’re funny. I hadn’t expected that.”
“What did you expect, exactly?”
“I don’t know.” I envisioned every priest I’d ever seen, all of them on a screen. “More stern, I suppose. Maybe some ominous bells ringing in the background.”
He chuckled again. “Well, I think that would get annoying after a while, so I’m not too sorry to disappoint.”
I chewed my lip. He seemed so easygoing. Definitely more relaxed than I’d anticipated. “There’s something, I’m not sure what, maybe a-a demon. It’s following me.”
I gave him a moment to absorb what I’d said, and it seemed to drag on for hours. “What makes you think this?” He was less playful but still calm.
“It’s happened since I was little…” I proceeded to tell him everything: each occurrence, the doctors, the pills, and my most recent problem, Brady.
Father Bayshore listened, never interrupting as the words seemed to flow out of me as if a dam had been opened. A purge.
“I need you to exorcize it,” I finally said. “It said on your website—”
“That’s not how it works, I’m afraid.” I heard him sigh. “But I will admit, your situation does sound serious.”
Serious. It sounds serious, but he couldn’t help me. “Is it because I’m not Catholic?” I’d convert. I’d convert if it meant he’d get rid of it. I’d do anything to get rid of it.
“No! It’s not that. There are rules. I need permission to perform an exorcism. There needs to be an investigation. Proof that it’s a demon—”
“Okay. When do we start? I’ll do whatever I need to.”
“I can perform a blessing. Sometimes, that is enough to fix the problem. If that doesn’t work, we can move from there.”
A blessing. “If that doesn’t work? Then what?” I don’t think that’s gonna work. Brady was blessed enough. A mental picture entered my mind at the thought, and I immediately shook it away. That was just too messed up. Crazy, even for me.
“Let’s just start with that and see what happens.”
“Can you do it today? Please?” I sounded desperate, like a person begging for their life, and I felt like that’s exactly what I was.
He paused again, then let out a resigned breath. “I can come after I leave here today, but it probably won’t be until eight. Is that too late?”
“No, no, that’s perfect. Thank you!” If there wasn’t a wall between us, I’d have hugged him.
; I watched his silhouette stand then heard the door, so I got up and exited to meet him. His eyes met mine.
“I want to help you.” He pulled out a notepad and a pen. “Write down your address.” He reached into another pocket and pulled out a beaded necklace. “Take this,” he said when I handed the pad back to him. “It’s a rosary. I know you’re not Catholic, but perhaps it will help until I arrive.”
I looked down at the gift. The beads were lime green and made of plastic, and hanging from the bottom was a crucifix. “Thank you.”
***
When I got home, Brady was nowhere in sight, but I didn’t let myself believe that meant he wasn’t around. I kept the beads around my neck, avoided the bathroom like the plague. I sat in the middle of the loveseat, keeping myself with an easy view of everything around me.
I’d been sitting like that for hours, and it was nearing eight. Almost time. Maybe, the rosary was working. Maybe, the thing couldn’t come.
“Hello, Sweetheart,” Brady said, suddenly appearing on the couch across from me.
I jumped, then gripped the crucifix. My heart beat its way up my chest and into my throat. I spent a full minute staring at him and trying to calm myself. It wasn’t working. “I thought you were gone.”
“What made you think that?” He leaned back, placing his hands behind his head. “I was just getting ready for your date tonight.”
My traitorous eyes roamed, taking in every last inch of the god-like being across from me. He was dressed to kill, and I hoped it was just for show.
“I’m surprised someone with your fashion sense hasn’t come out of the closet yet.”
His expression dropped, only for a moment, then a loud booming laugh left his lungs. “That was a good one.”
“It wasn’t a joke,” I said, managing to sound bored despite my racing pulse.
He ignored my comment, the smile still glued to his face. “So, where is this guy? I’m excited to meet him.”
“He’ll be here.” I looked to the door, willing my words to be true, then let my eyes roam to the wall clock. Seven fifty-five. Any minute now. He had to come. He was a priest. Priest didn’t lie. They couldn’t, could they?
“If he doesn’t show up, we could go out again,” Brady said, suddenly beside me.
I jumped over to the far cushion and leaned away from him.
He smiled. “I know our last date didn’t end too well. I know. You’re just so cute when you’re freaked out. I couldn’t help myself.”
“I’m ignoring you now.” I turned away, and to my immense relief, the doorbell rang.
I jumped up, and so did Brady. He kept a distance, standing in the middle of the room. He wasn’t smiling anymore when I chanced a glance behind me. I ignored the chill that ran down my spine at his dark expression and opened the door. Father Bayshore held a Bible and something silver in his hands.
“Thank you again,” I said as I motioned for him to come inside.
When I turned, Brady was right behind me. “Is this your date?” he asked, his mouth slightly open and eyes bright. I watched his expression morph, watched his smile widen, his eyes crinkled. His chest heaved as he seemed to struggle for a moment. “This is too good,” he murmured, the words barely audible.
I wasn’t feeling confident.
“Amelia.” Father Bayshore laid a hand upon my shoulder, pulling my attention back to him. “What are you looking at?”
I turned back to Brady. “He can’t see you, can he?”
Brady’s eyes glittered. “Oh no. It’s much funnier this way.”
“Is it the thing you were talking about?” Father Bayshore asked, pulling my attention back to him. His expression was concerned, but not like it had been earlier. No. He had the look. The one they all got.
He thinks I’m crazy now.
“You know, Sweetheart,” Brady started. “I hate to break it to you.” He took a step forward, his eyes level with mine. He looked pointedly over to the priest, then back to me. “I don’t think your date is gonna put out.”
“I hate you,” I growled.
“Amelia…” Father Bayshore spoke again.
“Can you do the blessing now? It’s right there.” I shoved a hand into Brady’s chest, pushing him backward.
“Aww. You want him to bless me?” Brady cooed. “I thought this was something else. How sweet.”
“Shut up,” I murmured, then turned back to the father. He was watching me closely, and if I wasn’t already crazy to him, I was about to be.
I took a deep calming breath. “Please.”
Still keeping a close eye on me, the priest opened his Bible and began to read. Meanwhile, he shook the silver item, sending water splattering out each time. His voice was a monotone chant, almost unreal, and it made him seem more his part, more what I had expected.
Then I looked to Brady, and his face was red. I sucked in a breath. “I think it’s working!”
He seemed to choke, his cheeks puffing out. Then, the minute genuine hope flooded my chest, he exploded. Not in a bloody, meaty sort of way—in a laughter sort of way.
Brady gripped his side, doubling over as he bellowed out a loud, obnoxious, roaring laughter.
“He’s laughing,” I said, voice flat, never taking my eyes off him. “It’s not working.”
“It’s not going to!” Brady roared before taking multiple deep breaths in an obvious attempt to calm himself.
“Why not!” I shouted, more to the world than him.
“Because I’m not a demon.” He took three huge steps forward, his eyes still light but his demeanor suddenly calm and smooth. Like a jungle cat, he sauntered forward until he stood almost on top of me. His warm breath caressed my ear as he leaned forward. “But, if I was a demon, I would totally be inside you right now.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I looked up, way up at the man-god looming above me, perfectly straight white teeth on prominent display, eyes glittering with humor.
“What? That didn’t work? I thought it was pretty good.”
“Go away,” I said, then noticed that Father Bayshore had stopped speaking.
When I turned to him, he was staring at me, the look returned. “Amelia,” he started, his voice cautious. “I’m wondering if other services may be better able to—”
“You think I’m crazy,” I cut him off, my voice even despite the sinking feeling in my chest. Of course. No one could help me. They never could. I wanted to curl in on myself. I wanted to just go to bed, lay there, never get up.
Brady’s large hand engulfed my shoulder in a way that made me look at him. He leaned down, his now serious face level with mine. “You’re not crazy, Sweetheart.”
“I’m just exploring all possible options,” Father Bayshore continued. “I know someone—”
Before he could finish, he choked. He jumped back, his eyes now fixed to the spot beside me. The spot Brady occupied. Brady looked bored as he casually turned to acknowledge the man. The two stared at each other for a moment, Father Bayshore’s mouth slightly ajar.
My eyes shot between them as my mind fought to process what had just happened. He could see him. He was looking right at him.
Brady muttered a solitary, “Boo.”
Father Bayshore jumped back, his Bible falling from his hands.
“See?” Brady turned back to me, no longer interested in the man. “Not crazy.” He smiled, a small smile that almost made him look sweet.
Almost. Like maybe how a lion looked sweet until it eats your face.
Regardless, my heart flipped, and my chest eased. It wasn’t better. Crazy would be better, but I didn’t want to be crazy.
I turned back to the priest who still stood frozen in shock. “Father Bayshore?”
He jerked as if reality were a rubber band that I’d just released. Shaking, he reached down and grabbed the Bible off the floor, his motions sporadic as he fought to get it back open.
When he started to chant, Brady sighe
d. “Well, you can’t say he isn’t persistent. I bet the demons don’t stand a chance against him.” Brady turned to look lazily from the man to me. “One day, you’re going to really laugh about this, and I’m going to somehow make it even funnier.”
“There’s nothing funny. None of this is funny!” I shoved him, hard, or at least, I thought it was hard.
He didn’t move. He shrugged, then turned back to the still chanting priest. Father Bayshore began to shake the silver thing in his hand again, and water flew out to land on Brady’s face.
Brady wiped it off, his expression was unamused. “I’m bored with this now,” he said, then in an entirely different voice, as if many people were speaking at once, he turned to the priest. “You’re done now. The demon left. You’re a real hero.”
Father Bayshore stopped, his eyes finding mine, and his lips lifting up into a satisfied smile. “I’m—”
“You think it’s best if you just left,” Brady continued, to which Father Bayshore, smile in place, suddenly turned. He headed for the door, and I felt as if my last chance was getting away.
“Wait!” I shouted. He kept going until the door closed behind him. Dammit! I needed him!
“You’re still betting on that horse?” Brady asked.
I turned to glare at him. “What are you?”
His smile returned. “I am Brady.”
“Not this shit again!” I rushed him, shoving hard against his chest, once again sending him nowhere.
Brady let me, his expression returned to its usual infuriating grin.
I stopped, taking two steps back and one deep breath in. “What are you?”
Brady studied me. “I don’t want to tell you.”
“Why not?” I asked between my teeth, fighting to remain calm. If I could find out what he was, then I could Google how to get rid of that—or him.
“It’s funnier if I don’t.” Brady shrugged.
“Why is everything a joke to you?” I watched his face, studying him, looking for anything at all. A clue. I got nothing.
He smiled. “It’s part of what I am, Sweetheart.” Then, he disappeared.