by Meg Cabot
Well, not unless I asked for it.
"Hey," I said. "I need to talk to Bryce for a second. Do you guys mind?"
The girl on the end of the bed looked taken aback. "So talk to him. We're not stopping you."
I looked her right in the eye and said, in my firmest mediation voice, "I need to talk to him alone."
Somebody whistled low and long. Nobody else moved. At least until Bryce went, "Hey, you guys. You heard her. Get out."
Thank God for morphine, that's all I have to say.
Grudgingly, the senior class filed out, everybody casting me dirty looks but Bryce, who lifted a hand connected to what looked like an IV and went, "Hey, Suze. C'mere and look at this."
I approached the bed. Now that we were the only people in it, I was able to see that Bryce actually had a very large room. It was also very cheerful, painted yellow, with a window that looked out over the garden outside.
"See what I got?" Bryce showed me a palm-sized instrument with a button on top of it. "My own painkiller pump. Anytime I feel pain, I just hit this button, and it releases codeine. Right into my bloodstream. Cool, huh?"
The guy was gone. That was obvious. Suddenly, I didn't think my mission was going to be so hard, after all.
"That's great, Bryce," I said. "I was real sorry to hear about your accident."
"Yeah." He giggled fatuously. "Too bad you weren't there. You might've been able to save me like you did yesterday."
"Yes," I said, clearing my throat uncomfortably. "You certainly do seem accident-prone these days."
"Yeah." His eyelids drifted closed, and for one panicky minute, I thought he'd gone to sleep. Then he opened his eyes and looked at me kind of sadly. "Suze, I don't think I'm going to be able to make it."
I stared at him. God, what a baby! "Of course you're going to make it. You've got a busted collarbone, is all. You'll be better in no time."
He giggled. "No, no. I mean, I don't think I'm going to be able to make it to our date on Saturday night."
"Oh," I said, blinking. "Oh, no, of course not. I didn't think so. Listen, Bryce, I need to ask you a favor. You're going to think it's weird – " Actually, doped up as he was, I doubted he'd think it weird at all. " – but I was wondering whether, back when you and Heather were going out, did she ever, um, give you anything?"
He blinked at me groggily. "Give me anything? You mean like a present?"
"Yes."
"Well, yeah. She got me a cashmere sweater vest for Christmas."
I nodded. A cashmere sweater vest wasn't going to do me any good. "Okay. Anything else? Maybe ... a picture of herself?"
"Oh," he said. "Sure, sure. She gave me her school picture."
"She did?" I tried not to look too excited. "Any chance you've got it on you? In your wallet, maybe?" It was a gamble, I knew, but most people only clean out their wallets once a year or so....
He screwed up his face. I guess thinking must have been painful for him since I saw him give himself a couple pumps of painkiller. Then his face relaxed. "Sure," he said. "I still got her picture. My wallet's in that drawer there."
I opened the drawer to the table beside his bed. His wallet was indeed there, a slim black leather deal. I lifted it up and opened it. Heather's photo was jammed between a gold American Express card and a ski lift ticket. It showed her looking extremely glam, with all her long blond hair flowing over one shoulder, staring coquettishly into the camera. In my school pictures, I always look like somebody just yelled "Fire!" I couldn't believe this guy, who'd been dating a girl who looked like that, would bother asking a girl like me out.
"Can I borrow this picture?" I asked. "I just need it for a little while. I'll give it right back." This was a lie, but I didn't figure he'd give it to me otherwise.
"Sure, sure," he said, waving a hand.
"Thanks." I slipped the photo into my backpack just as a tall woman in her forties came striding in wearing a lot of gold jewelry and carrying a box of pastries.
"Bryce, darling," she said. "Where did all your little friends go? I went all the way to the patisserie to get some snacks."
"Oh, they'll be back in a minute, Mom," Bryce said, sleepily. "This is Suze. She saved my life yesterday."
Mrs. Martinson held out a smooth, tanned right hand. "Lovely to meet you, Susan," she said, giving my fingers the slightest of squeezes. "Can you believe what happened to poor little Bryce? His father's furious. As if things hadn't been going badly enough, what with that wretched girl – well, you know. And now this. I swear, it's like that academy were cursed, or something."
I said, "Yes. Well, nice to meet you. I'd better be going."
Nobody protested against my departure – Mrs. Martinson because she couldn't have cared less, and Bryce because he'd fallen asleep.
I found Adam and Cee Cee standing outside a room across the hall. As I walked up to them, Cee Cee put a finger to her lips. "Listen," she said.
I did as she asked.
"It simply couldn't have come at a worse time," a familiar voice – male, older – was saying. "What with the archbishop's visit not two weeks away – "
"I'm so sorry, Constantine." Father Dominic's voice sounded weak. "I know what a strain this must all be to you."
"And Bryce Martinson, of all people! Do you know who his father is? Only one of the best trial lawyers in Salinas!"
"Father Dom's getting reemed," Adam whispered to me. "Poor old guy."
"I wish he'd tell Monsignor Constantine to just go and jump in a lake." Cee Cee's purple eyes flashed. "Dried up, crusty old – "
I whispered, "Let's see if we can help him out. Maybe you guys could distract the monsignor. Then I'll just see if Father Dom needs anything. You know. Just real quick before we go."
Cee Cee shrugged. "Fine with me."
"I'm game," Adam said.
So I called, loudly, "Father Dominic?" and banged into the father's hospital room.
The room wasn't as big as Bryce's or as cheerful. The walls were beige, not yellow, and there was only one vase with flowers in it. The window looked out, as near as I could tell, over the parking lot. And nobody had hooked Father Dominic up to any self-pumped painkiller machine. I don't know what kind of insurance priests have, but it was nowhere as good as it should have been.
To say that Father Dominic looked surprised to see me would have been an understatement. His mouth dropped open. He seemed perfectly incapable of saying anything. But that was okay because Cee Cee came bustling in after me, and went, "Oh, Monsignor! Great. We've been looking all over for you. We'd like to do an exclusive, if that's okay, on how last night's act of vandalism is going to affect the upcoming visit of the archbishop. Adversely, right? Do you have any comments? Maybe you could step out here into the hallway where my associate and I can – "
Looking flustered, Monsignor Constantine followed Cee Cee out the door with an irritated, "Now see here, young lady – "
I sauntered over to Father Dominic's side. I wasn't exactly excited to see him. I mean, I knew he probably wasn't too happy with me. I was the one whom Heather had thrown Father Serra's head at, and I figured he probably knew it, and probably wasn't feeling too warmly toward me.
That's what I figured, anyway. But of course, I figured wrong. I'm pretty good at figuring out what dead people are thinking, but I haven't quite gotten the hang of the living yet.
"Susannah," Father Dominic said in his gentle voice. "What are you doing here? Is everything all right? I've been very concerned about you – "
I guess I should have expected it. Father Dominic wasn't sore at me at all. Just worried, that was all. But he was the one who needed worrying over. Aside from the nasty gash above one eye, his color was off. He looked grey, and much older than he actually was. Only his eyes, blue as the sky outside, looked like they always did, bright and filled with intelligent good humor.
Still, it made me mad all over again, seeing him like that. Heather didn't know it, but she was in for it, and how.
"Me?" I
stared at him. "What are you worried about me for? I'm not the one who got clobbered by a crucifix this morning."
Father Dom smiled ruefully. "No, but I believe you do have a little explaining to do. Why didn't you tell me, Susannah? Why didn't you tell me what you had in mind? If I had known you planned on showing up at the Mission alone in the middle of the night, I never would have allowed it."
"Exactly why I didn't tell you," I said. "Look, Father, I'm sorry about the statue and Mr. Walden's door and all that. But I had to try talking to her myself, don't you see? Woman to woman. I didn't know she was going to go postal on me."
"What did you expect? Susannah, you saw what she tried to do to that young man yesterday – "
"Yeah, but I could understand that. I mean, she loved him. She's really mad at him. I didn't think she'd try to go after me. I mean, I had nothing to do with it. I just tried to let her know her options – "
"Which is what I'd been doing ever since she first showed up at the Mission."
"Right. But Heather's not liking any of the options we've put before her. I'm telling you, the girl's gone loco. She's quiet now because she thinks she killed Bryce, and she's probably all tuckered out, but in a little while she's going to perk up again and God only knows what she'll do next now that she knows what she's capable of."
Father Dominic looked at me curiously, his concern over the archbishop's impending visit forgotten. "What do you mean 'now that she knows what she's capable of?"
"Well, last night was just a dress rehearsal. We can expect bigger and better things from Heather now that she knows what she can do."
Father Dominic shook his head, confused. "Have you seen her today? How do you know all this?"
I couldn't tell Father Dominic about Jesse. I really couldn't. It wasn't any of his business, for one thing. But I also had an idea it might kind of shock him, knowing there was this guy living in my bedroom. I mean, Father Dom was a priest and all.
"Look," I said. "I've been giving this a lot of thought, and I don't see any other way. You've tried to reason with her, and so have I. And look where it's gotten us. You're in the hospital, and I'm having to look over my shoulder everywhere I go. I think it's time to settle the matter once and for all."
Father Dom blinked at me. "What do you mean, Susannah? What are you talking about?"
I took a deep breath. "I'm talking about what we mediators do as a last resort."
He still looked confused. "Last resort? I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."
"I'm talking," I said, "about an exorcism."
CHAPTER 16
"Out of the question," said Father Dominic.
"Look," I said. "I don't see any other way. She won't go willingly, we both know that. And she's too dangerous to let hang around indefinitely. I think we're going to have to give her a push."
Father Dominic looked away from me, and started staring bleakly at a spot on the ceiling above our heads. "That isn't what we're here for, people like you and me, Susannah," he said in the saddest voice I had ever heard. "We are the sentries who guard the gates of the afterlife. We are the ones who help guide lost souls to their final destinations. And every single one of the spirits I've helped have passed my gate quite willingly...."
Yeah. And if you clap hard enough, Tinkerbell won't die. It must, I thought, have been nice to see the world through Father Dom's eyes. It seemed like a nice place. A lot better than the world I'd lived in for the past sixteen years.
"Yes," I said. "Well, I don't see any other way."
"An exorcism," Father Dominic murmured. He said the word like it was distasteful, like mucus, or something.
"Look," I said, beginning to regret I'd said anything. "Believe me, it's not a method I recommend. But I don't see that we have much choice. Heather's not just a danger to Bryce anymore." I didn't want to tell him what she'd said about David. I could just see him jumping out of bed and hollering for a pair of crutches. But since I had already let spill what I was planning, I had to let him know why I felt such an extreme was necessary. "She's a danger to the whole school," I said. "She's got to be stopped."
He nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course, you're right. But Susannah, you've got to promise me you won't try it until I've been released. I was talking to the doctor, and she says she might let me go as early as Friday. That will give us plenty of time to research the proper methodology – " He glanced at his bedside table. "Hand me that Bible there, would you, Susannah? If we can get the wording correctly, we just might – "
I handed him the Bible. "I'm pretty sure," I said, "that I've got it down pat."
He lifted his gaze, pinning me with those baby blues of his. Too bad he was so old, and a priest, besides. I wondered how many hearts he'd broken back before he'd gotten his calling. "How could you possibly," he wondered, "have gotten anything as complicated as a Roman Catholic exorcism down pat?"
I fidgeted uncomfortably. "Well, I wasn't really planning on doing the Roman Catholic version."
"Is there another?"
"Oh, sure. Most religions have one. Personally, I prefer Mecumba. It's pretty much to the point. No long incantations, or anything."
He looked pained. "Mecumba?"
"Sure. Brazilian voodoo. I got if off the Net. All you need is some chicken blood and a – "
"Mary, mother of God," Father Dominic interrupted. Then, when he'd recovered himself, he said, "Out of the question. Heather Chambers was baptized a Roman Catholic, and despite the cause of her death, she deserves a Roman Catholic exorcism, if not burial. Her chances of being admitted into heaven at this point aren't great, I'll admit, but I certainly intend to see that she gets every opportunity to greet St. Peter at the gates."
"Father Dom," I said. "I really don't think it matters whether she gets a Roman Catholic exorcism or a Brazilian one, or a Pygmy one, for that matter. The fact is, if there is a heaven, there's no way Heather Chambers is getting in there."
Father Dominic made a tut-tutting noise. "Susannah, how can you say such a thing? There is good in everyone. Surely even you can see that."
"Even me? What do you mean, even me?"
"Well, I mean even Susannah Simon, who can be very hard on others, must see that even in the cruelest human being there can exist a flower of good. Maybe just the tiniest blossom, in need of water and sunlight, but a flower just the same."
I wondered what kind of painkillers Father Dom was on.
I said, "Well, okay, Father. All I know is, wherever Heather's going, it ain't heaven. If there is a heaven."
He smiled at me sadly. "I wish," he said, "you had half as much faith in the good Lord, Susannah, as you have courage. Listen to me now for a moment. You mustn't – you must not – attempt to stop Heather on your own. It is extremely clear that she very nearly killed you last night. I could not believe my eyes when I walked out and saw the damage she caused. You were lucky to escape with your life. And it is clear from what happened this morning that, like you say, she is only growing stronger. It would be stupid – criminally stupid – of you to try to do anything on your own again."
I knew he was right. What's more, if I really did go through with the exorcism thing, I couldn't let Jesse help me... the exorcism might send him back to his maker, right along with Heather.
"Besides," Father Dominic said. "There isn't any reason to hurry, is there? Now that she's managed to hospitalize Bryce, she won't be up to any more mischief – at least not until he comes back to school. He seems to be the only person she entertains murderous feelings toward – "
I didn't say anything. How could I? I mean, the poor guy looked so pathetic lying there. I didn't want to give him more to worry about. But the truth was, I couldn't possibly wait for Father Dom to get out of the hospital. Heather meant business. With every day that passed, she would only get stronger and nastier, and more filled with hate. I had to get rid of her, and I had to get rid of her soon.
So I committed what I'm sure must be some kind of mortal sin. I lied to a priest.
/> Good thing I'm not Catholic.
"Don't worry, Father Dom," I said. "I'll wait till you're feeling better."
Father Dominic was no dummy, though. He went, "Promise me, Susannah."
I said, "I promise."
I had my fingers crossed, of course. I hoped that, if there was a god, this would cancel out the sin of lying to one of his most deserving servants.
"Let me see," Father Dominic was murmuring. "We'll need holy water, of course. That's no problem. And of course a crucifix."
As he was muttering over his exorcism grocery list, Adam and Cee Cee came into the room.
"Hey, Father Dom," Adam said. "Boy, do you look terrible."
Cee Cee elbowed him. "Adam," she hissed. Then, to the father, she said brightly, "Don't listen to him, Father Dom. I think you look great. Well, for a guy with a bunch of broken bones, I mean."
"Children." Father Dominic looked really happy to see them. "What a delight! But why are you wasting a beautiful afternoon like this one visiting an old man in a hospital? You ought to be down at the beach enjoying the nice weather."
"We're actually here doing an article for the Mission News about the accident," Cee Cee said. "We just got done interviewing the monsignor. It's really unfortunate, about the archbishop coming, and all, and the statue of Father Serra not having a head."
"Yeah," Adam said. "A real bummer."
"Well," Father Dominic said. "Never mind that. It's the caring spirit of you children that should most impress the archbishop."
"Amen," said Adam solemnly.
Before either of us had a chance to berate Adam for being sarcastic, a nurse came in and told Cee Cee and I that we had to leave because she had to give Father Dom his sponge bath.
"Sponge bath," Adam grumbled as we made our way back to the car. "Father Dom gets a sponge bath, but me, a guy who can actually appreciate something like that, what do I get?"
"A chance to play chauffeur to the two most beautiful girls in Carmel?" Cee Cee offered, helpfully.