"The tree?" Trevor asked. "Not the goat?"
"The man was going to sacrifice the goat. Therefore, the spilling of blood would have represented life. The snake would have slithered through the blood on the fresh dirt and then slipped into the tree. You said the tree looked very old, because it was tall and wide. The snake would have taken shelter in the tree, which would have summoned the demon to our world. Then, when the man was confident that the demon had been successfully conjured, he would have cut the tree open to release the demon."
The silence in the room seemed to cling to Conner's skin like a fine mist. Again, he was sweating, and his nerves burned like fire. He understood that the information he'd just heard was affecting him to such a degree that he was uncomfortable with the comprehension of what had taken place at Lake Bantam.
Adam let out a drawn-out "fuck."
"The goat," Conner said, "was the one thing that the man no longer had, so he used Jared?"
"Yes," Stella replied. "I'm sure he could have gotten another goat or some other animal. But it was about timing. You guys set the goat free when he was already set to perform the ritual. So, Jared was the replacement for the goat."
Adam jumped to his feet, gulping air like it was difficult to breathe. "I screwed up. I screwed up so bad," he cried out. "Everything was my fault."
Lou appeared surprised by Adam's quick retreat to the window overlooking the street. Stella swiftly stood with a sympathetic glimmer in her eyes, but Conner cast her a look that signaled don't even bother.
He and Trevor huddled close to Adam, resting their hands on his shoulders and tilting their heads close to his.
"It wasn't your fault," Conner said. "You didn't cause this to happen."
Adam nodded. "It was my idea to set that damn goat free. I made you guys help me. We should have just left it tied to the tree."
Trevor said, "It was that man's fault, Adam. Not yours."
Adam shook his head and sniffled. "I always screw things up. Just like my parents said, I don't think about the consequences."
"You didn't know," Conner said. "How the hell could you have known what was going to happen?"
"I'm the one who said there was some voodoo crap going on."
"Shut up," Trevor said, cupping the back of Adam's neck. "We all made a choice to set that goat free. We did everything as a group. All four of us took part in the whole thing."
Stella appeared at the window. "Adam, you can't blame yourself. It's just like Trevor said, the four of you had the experience together. No one should assume full responsibility for what happened to Jared."
Lou added, "It was the man who instigated everything. All four of you were victims." He waved everyone back to the sitting area. "Let's take a moment to settle down, then we can finish our conversation."
Conner kept a watchful eye on Adam, searching for any sign that Adam might give rise to a verbal outburst that he'd later have to apologize for. That was Adam's way—keep everything knotted up inside until he couldn't work out the knots on his own.
"What about Jared?" Trevor said. "If this ritual thing was supposed to conjure the demon into the tree, why did it possess Jared?"
Stella lowered the mug of cocoa to her lap. "From what I've been told, it's possible that since Jared wasn't sacrificed, the ritual technically wasn't completed. So, Jared became a kind of portal. And once the demon thoroughly overpowered him, it would break free from Jared's body into our world."
"But Jared died," Lou said. "So the ritual came to an abrupt end."
Adam cleared his throat and relaxed in the chair. "Maybe Jared dying completed the sacrifice part of the ritual."
Lou offered a congratulatory smile. "Well, that's something I never considered."
A phone chimed with a notification.
Stella crossed the room to the dining table and glanced at her cell. When she returned to the sofa, she said, "Conner, you mentioned that Jared had done an online search for cambion."
"Yeah."
"We've pretty much agreed on the fact that the man at the lake couldn't have conjured a cambion. A half-human, half-demon. That would be like trying to resurrect a corpse, unless he wanted it in spirit form. If so, this man probably believed that he was the cambion. We think he was trying to summon his father."
Trevor narrowed his eyes at Conner. "Cambion? You never told us anything about that."
"It was at the lake," Conner replied. "I just thought it was weird, and with everything that was going on there, I didn't want to bring it up. I didn't want to make things creepier than they already were."
"You should have told us."
"Yeah," Adam said. "You should have said something."
Irritated by his friends' attitudes, Conner sighed. "We didn't even tell each other about our creepy experiences with Jared until a few days ago. Now you're going to give me hell about this cambion crap?"
Trevor groaned dismissively. "Well, you could have told us then. Or after your interview with Lou."
Rising to his feet, Conner shouted, "All of this is crazy! The lake and the man with the damn goat. Jared and the snake. The possession. All of it's effing surreal. Now Jared's dead, and you want to give me a hard time about some stupid half-demon-human-thing."
"I'm just saying."
"Saying what? That I somehow screwed up or let you down or whatever because I didn't tell you guys about some cambion?"
"Hey," Lou hollered. "Everyone calm down. This isn't the time to start turning on each other. We're all working together here."
Conner sat, focused on slowing his breathing.
Hanging his head, Trevor rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry, man. I don't want to start a fight. We're tighter than this crap."
Conner stared at his shoes, the heat of his anger cooling.
Trevor gripped the nape of Conner's neck and brought their heads together. "I'm sorry."
"I know. I'm sorry too."
After several seconds, during which Conner felt the built-up tension diminish, Stella said, "I'm interested in the etchings on the tree. Did you guys see what the four symbols were?"
Trevor shook his head.
"At first," Adam said, "I thought they were, like, the four elements or something like that."
Conner drew in a deep breath. "I only recognized fire and snake. I don't even think I tried to figure out the other two."
Reclining, Lou crossed his legs, setting a foot on his knee. "Well, I suppose it doesn't make much of a difference to understanding what Jared went through. It's value probably lies with the ritual the man wanted to perform."
Adam shot to the edge of his chair. "Jared's bedroom."
Eyeing him with a hint of piqued interest, Stella asked, "What about Jared's bedroom?"
"There's something etched into the floor under his bed."
"What is it?" Lou asked.
"Don't know. The cops showed up before we could see it."
In unison, Stella and Lou responded, "What?!"
"Later," Conner said. "But yeah, there was something scratched into the floor. A word or a picture."
Lou cast his eyes from Stella to each of the boys. "Then we need to go check out Jared's bedroom."
TWENTY-TWO
Mr. Smith had not been receptive to Lou's request to inspect Jared's bedroom. According to Lou, Mr. Smith was offended by the mere suggestion of allowing a paranormal investigator to explore the room once occupied by his deceased son. Yet Lou had persisted, explaining that there might be valuable information in examining the etching on the floor, which the existence of Mr. Smith had claimed ignorance. So, Lou prodded a bit more, saying that the etching on the floor and the interview with the priest would complete the investigation. Then he could successfully present Jared Smith's story as a tragedy, not a scary tale to enthrall the public and satisfy the morbid curiosity of thrill seekers.
To seal the deal, Lou had asserted that the future buyer of the house might sensationalize the etching as a newly discovered detail to the narrative of Jared Smith
. In his opinion, interest in Jared and the Smith family would flourish once again.
So, Mr. Smith agreed, stating that he'd arrange for someone to give Lou a key the following afternoon. After one hour in the house, Lou would need to return the key, and then Mr. Smith and his family would officially no longer participate in Lou's investigation.
Conner had listened to the phone conversation with fascination. Lou was a smooth talker, for sure. But Conner also recognized the dedication Lou devoted to his work. It was then that Conner realized that agreeing to assist Lou was the best decision he, Adam, and Trevor had made. Without Lou's involvement and input—as well as Stella's—he and his friends would have remained lost and tormented by what had happened to Jared.
"We get to go with you, right?" Conner asked Lou.
He seemed to ponder the question, but Stella said, "They should."
"I wasn't gonna flat out say no," Lou replied. "I was just wondering how seeing Jared's bedroom again might affect the guys."
"We'll be fine," Trevor said. "We want answers just like you do. And once we know the whole story, it'll be easier for us to accept everything that's happened."
Adam agreed. "There's no school tomorrow anyway. So we're all going together."
Lou walked the guys to the parking lot. Once they arrived at the car, he lit a cigarette and thanked them for their time. "We're all doing a great job putting this story together. And you guys should be proud of yourselves."
Adam, cheeks pink from the cold, hugged his peacoat to his torso. "I feel better, now that it all makes more sense to me."
"Yeah," Trevor said. "Doesn't change what happened. But I feel better too."
Conner breathed into his cupped hands. "I guess I do. I still feel like I need to know what the priest says. And about the etching on the floor. Then I'll believe that we know all we need to know."
Nodding in understanding, Lou said, "Tomorrow will be a big day. I'll let you guys know as soon as we're done speaking to Father O'Leary. Then we'll see you in the afternoon."
Conner opened the driver's door, then paused. Looking back at Lou, he said, "Thank you."
"No, thank you," Lou replied. "Like I said, we're doing good work, and you guys should be proud of yourselves."
Puffing on his cigarette, he watched the boys drive down the street and then turn at the corner. He and Stella still had to discuss the interview with Father O'Leary. With her departure on Wednesday, they couldn't afford to have holes in the priest's account of the possession and the exorcism. They needed every detail they could get.
As he finished smoking, he thought of the production deal with the cable network. He desperately wanted the Jared Smith story to snag the producer's interest. Yet he also wanted Conner, Adam, and Trevor to have some sort of closure at the end of the investigation. A couple days ago, he'd perceived the boys as arrogant, entitled, jock punks. Now he viewed them as good kids who'd also suffered because of what had happened to Jared. And when all was said and done, he wanted to provide them with a degree of comfort and understanding. It was both the least and the best he could do. After all, he'd promised them nothing. But for once, he decided he couldn't leave an investigation without giving something valuable in exchange for what he'd taken.
During the drive to Trevor's house, no one said much of anything. But when Conner turned onto Trevor's street, he asked, "You guys think the seizure–seeing–the–devil stuff was just a mass hysteria thing like Lou said?"
"Yeah," Adam said. "The way he and Stella explained it, it makes sense. Don't you think?"
Conner's mood brightened at the thought. "Well, it gives me hope that the shadows and nightmares are basically just because of the stress and drama of it all. It's causing us to imagine stuff that really didn't exist in the first place."
"I hope so," Trevor said. "I seriously don't want to have nightmares again. I can handle a few more, but then it all needs to just disappear."
Conner parked the car along the curb. He slapped his hand firmly onto Trevor's shoulder. "I'm sorry I got upset with you earlier."
"It's okay."
"I know it's okay. But I want you to know I'm sorry. I love you, man. Nothing's going to tear the three of us apart."
Trevor raised a fist. "Brothers."
"Always and forever." Conner bumped fists with Trevor.
Outside the car, Trevor leaned in through the passenger window. "I'll come over in the morning."
"See you then," Conner replied.
Adam situated himself in the front seat, then called out to Trevor, "Hey! Sweet dreams."
On the porch, Trevor hollered back, "You too, bro."
* * *
When Conner returned home, his family was nearly finished with dinner, their plates decorated with the remnants of brown gravy, small clumps of mashed red potatoes, and stray peas. "Roast beef," his mother said as he sat at the dining room table. "Did you guys eat out?"
"No." He tugged the sleeves of his sweater to his elbows. "I'm not really that hungry," he said, dropping two slices of beef onto his plate.
"What took you so long?" his father asked.
"We got our stuff and then we met with Lou."
"That paranormal investigator?"
"Yeah. We talked about stuff, and he answered our questions. So, I think we all feel better about everything."
His mother set Mason's empty plate on top of hers. "That's good. But how did Lou help you accomplish that?"
"Just answering our questions. The whole thing with Jared is so surreal, it's hard to understand."
"I'm not sure I believe it," she said with an air of polite delivery.
"Mom, I'm sure a lot of people think the whole possession story is a bunch of BS. Fine, so be it. But there's a lot more to the story. So, right now, it only matters that we feel better. It doesn't matter what other people think."
"Would you care to share that story with us?"
"No," he snapped. "I'm sorry. It's just been a crazy week. Right now, I want to talk about something else."
Conner expected his words to swathe the room with a veneer of tension, like a dense fog that hovered inches above their heads. But it didn't materialize.
His mother smiled kindly. "Then let's talk about Thanksgiving. We're going to have a full house on Thursday. I'm going to need your boys' help with a few things."
Mason groaned. "Oh, jeez. Like what?"
"Well . . . there's going to be fifteen of us. I want to set out the nice glasses and the formal dinnerware. All your things lying around the house need to be taken to your rooms. That sort of thing."
Conner drizzled gravy onto a heap of mashed potatoes as he listened to his parents discuss Thursday's menu. He exchanged an amused glance with Mason. The brothers knew Thanksgiving would be a day-long event that would eventually test their patience, forcing them to retreat to their bedrooms to avoid the lingering family members who never seemed to know when it was time to go home.
* * *
Adam carried a plate with two sandwiches and chips upstairs to his bedroom. Settled on his bed, he scarfed down the food while scrolling through Instagram. He'd forgotten to bring a drink with him, but he didn't want to leave the safety and comfort of his bedroom.
Neither of his parents were home. Both of their cars were gone, so Adam assumed his mother was with a friend or running an errand to occupy her mind while her husband continued to pursue his infidelity. On nights like this, the undeclared divide in the family seemed to run deeper and wider. Going downstairs for a drink in a house that was void of warmth only made Adam lonelier. And it further reinforced the idea that his family was no longer the family unit it had once been.
He hated being alone in the house. During the past week, his fears about the man at Lake Bantam and Jared's death had festered. His fright had developed into a tangible tic that he fought hard to control, like resisting the dirty, bad habit of biting one's nails. Although the conversation with Lou earlier in the evening had soothed his anxious thoughts, he was still
afraid.
He peered out his window, across the street to Conner's house. His best friend's bedroom light was on. He contemplated asking Conner to come over or inviting himself to sleep curled up next to his buddy. But he resisted his dependency on Conner's ability and love to make him feel safe.
Situated against the headboard, he hugged his knees and thought of the affirmation the basketball coach had suggested he focus on before a game. Every day my skills become stronger and stronger.
The skill to not let fear overwhelm him.
The skill to not let loneliness scar him.
* * *
Trevor felt like a worm squirming on the end of a hook—helplessly anchored to the metal piercing its body but hopeful for the bite that might end its prolonged misery.
"Ma!" he muttered from his favorite comfort spot on the sofa. "Please don't give me a hard time."
"I hope you and your friends put some serious thought into helping out this Lou guy."
"It's not like he's taking advantage of us. He talked to us and explained stuff. We feel better than we did a week ago."
His mother looked to her husband for support. “What you think, Steve? Is Trevor doing the right thing?"
"Diedre, Trevor is a smart, young man. You know he wouldn't do this if he didn't think it was the right thing to do. Let him see this through. If this is helping the boys, then let it."
She sank back in the armchair. "All right. Maybe I'm being too pessimistic. And suspicious. And overprotective."
"Ma, I love you, but you need to start loosening the umbilical cord. I'm going to college next year. You can't protect me forever."
"Besides," his father said, "Trevor said the investigation is nearing its end. This will all be over soon enough."
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