We sat in silence for a long time. Jackson came to me and put his head on my leg.
“Why did he hate you so much?” I said.
“Thomas?” she questioned.
I nodded.
“I don’t know that he hated me more than anyone else,” Gigi said.
“When you came up, he said he hated you the most, or they did,” I said, realizing that though it was Thomas’s voice, it was not him speaking.
“They weren’t talking about me,” Gigi answered. “I was praying the Hail Mary. They were talking about Mary, a human child, a girl who they had no power over. She never doubted God’s complete love for her. She said yes to him and her yes changed the world, changed eternity. She gave birth to our Savior, the Savior who defeated them. Nothing is more humiliating for demons than being reminded they were beaten by a little girl,” she said with the slightest of grins.
I did not speak, only stared out the window.
Gently squeezing my hand to get my attention, Gigi said, “You should shower and sleep.”
I ran my fingers through my hair, pushing hard against my scalp—hoping in some small way the action would make me forget.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep for a few days,” I said. My voice sounded almost as thick as Gigi’s, even though my nose was not broken.
My voice hitching, I said, “He said … there was little hope … for Luca?” Thomas’s last words to me had been repeating in my mind over and over again for the last few hours.
“Little hope in the demons’ minds,” Gigi said slowly, adding clarity to their vile words. “Luca’s soul wasn’t at risk. It probably never has been.”
My mind reacted as if wading through muddy water. “But there was hope for me?” I said with no emotion.
“Demons rarely give up. Their entire purpose for existing is to hurt God. They do that by destroying us, by convincing us to choose an eternity without our Creator. I imagine there have been very few souls they have lost hope in, especially at such a young age. Luca is unique, a remarkable boy,” she said, her focus drifting off.
“Thomas was remarkable in his evil,” I said, sliding my dirt-encrusted nail across the wood grain of the table.
Gigi sat up straighter. “I would not say that. Thomas, I don’t think, was any different from the rest of us. Like most of us, he underestimated how deadly evil is—or perhaps never believed in it. I can’t blame him for that. Evil has done all it can to trick us into doubting its existence. Seances, Ouija boards, these are considered party games, not openings to darkness. That’s when evil flourishes. When we pretend it doesn’t exist.”
“It happened so fast,” I said, pulling the blanket tighter around me as I desperately tried to fight the darkness that felt as though it would suffocate me. “It’s like he changed overnight.” The thought made me choke.
Gigi placed her arm around my shoulders. “From the outside, yes, but we could not see his heart. There the transition was slower. There he had likely been changing for years, though it was the inn that made that change visible,” she said with muted grief.
“How … how could the inn or any place do that?”
At this she released my shoulders and went to the kettle. She poured more hot water into her mug that was mostly full.
“I don’t know,” she said, turning to face me. “I don’t understand how such darkness can exist in silence—waiting to attack whoever comes near it. I know only that that’s what the inn is and has been since long before you or Thomas were born.”
“How do you know that?”
She exhaled slowly. “That is a long, sad story. One that involves another boy. A boy who, thankfully, lived.”
“Dad?” I said with fear as I remembered the demons’ words to him.
“Not tonight, Siena. I’ve been through enough,” she said, wincing as she absentmindedly touched her swollen face.
“Dad made the inn evil?” I asked.
“No,” she said emphatically, and then paused, her expression turning sorrowful. “I don’t know,” she said tearfully.
“You don’t know?”
She shook her head. “Please, not tonight,” she said, sounding so old.
My heart broke for her. She had shared every moment of pain I experienced in my life and had so many more of her own.
I could not cause her more pain, not tonight. “Where is Luca?” I asked.
“Upstairs,” she said with relief that I was not asking her to tell me what she couldn’t. “He’s in a guest room near my room. Sam and Jason are in a room next to Lisieux’s. Your sisters are together in Lisieux’s room. They didn’t want to be alone.”
A slim beam of sunlight hit my face as clouds parted. “How are they?” I asked, squinting.
“No one should ever witness what we witnessed, especially not such young children. But they will be okay. We’ll help them. They will heal … we all will.”
We sat in silence as I wondered if she was right. Would we heal? Or would we simply learn how to manage the wound?
Her words broke the silence. “Is your father on his way back?”
I shook my head. “He was still with Thomas’s parents.”
“He won’t leave until they do,” she said. “He must be exhausted and so must you. If you won’t sleep, at least shower and put on dry clothes.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“I did sleep for a few hours, at least,” she said, her voice tired.
She watched me push myself up from the chair and start slowly toward the stairs.
“Leave the blanket,” she said. It was covered in dirt and seawater. I dropped it near the stairs. I would pick it up later.
Every step felt like I was climbing a mountain; my legs and mind ached. Gigi was right. I needed sleep.
In my room, I left the light off. I went into the bathroom and shut the door. Only then did I turn on the light. My eyes blinked, adjusting to the brightness as I stared at myself in the mirror. My hair was tangled from the wind … coat, ripped and dirty … jeans, layered in mud, even after the soaking rain. Looking at myself, I wondered how the police thought I got so dirty. We hadn’t told them about crawling under the house to rip Luca from the grave Thomas had stuffed him in or the terror I felt when Thomas’s hands ripped up the floor above me, his pale, bloody arms descending into the dark abyss in front of me.
I fell into the mud—that’s what I told them, thinking back to my conversation. It wasn’t a lie, not a complete one.
I peeled off my clothes and entered the shower. The warm water stung my frozen skin. I was colder than I’d realized. The water burned; I turned the dial to a cooler temperature. Gradually I warmed and the water cooled. I turned the water warmer and warmer until it was where I usually kept it.
I opened the shampoo bottle, squeezing some into my palm. I washed my hair; the tangles were too tight for me to pull my fingers through it. I should have used conditioner to get out the knots, but I didn’t. I ran the soap along my body, rinsed, and turned off the water. I stood, dripping in the cold air. I shivered—the action reminded me to reach for a towel. I dried my skin. I went to my closet and pushed my damp arms through the gray robe. My feet became cold after a few steps on the hardwood floor of my room.
I went to the window. Drones circled overhead. Below, my dad made his way up our yard, helping to support Thomas’s mother, who was walking as if she was drunk. It was not from alcohol; it was from grief.
My father lost his wife and I lost my mother. Brenda and Phil lost their child. Both killed by evil.
I went to bed, my dripping hair soaking the pillow.
Twenty-Seven
When I awoke, the day was gone and the house was silent. I looked at the clock on my desk. It was close to midnight. I went to the window. The moon shone brightly. There were no drones and no lights at the beach. The news crews were gone and so were the police. I wondered if they’d be back tomorrow or if their time on our property was over.
My stomach
growled. Ignoring it, I went back to the warmth of my bed. Dreams of Thomas intruded on my sleep. Occasionally, Luca was there too. Always with kind eyes, always with caution, trying to keep me from getting too close to Thomas. Sometimes I heard his words, other times they were muffled. In every dream Thomas died; no matter what I did, he died.
The next time I opened my eyes, the sun had brightened my room. The sound of Avi talking to someone carried through my window from the yard below. I lay, eyes open, staring at the window for what felt like hours and seconds all at the same time. I didn’t want to get up; I didn’t want to face the day, whatever that might bring. I wanted only to sleep. I closed my eyes. Sleep didn’t come. My stomach growled. How long had it been since I’d eaten? Two days, I figured, after my brain slowly started to clear.
I forced myself to sit. I remained in that position as the minutes clicked by on my clock. I willed my legs to move, my feet touched the floor. I held the robe tight around me as I stood and shuffled to the window.
Avi was talking to Luca. As if by some strange chance, he looked up and our eyes met. He stopped the game he was playing with Avi and Jackson, and gave me a small wave. I raised my hand and stepped away from the window.
I felt a surge of emotion as I remembered Luca stuffed, unconscious, under the inn, Thomas’s bloodied hands descending into the darkness. I clasped the robe’s collar tight around my neck as my body crumbled onto the bed. I fought to keep the fear from overtaking me.
It’s over, I repeated again and again in my mind. It’s over. Thomas can’t hurt me anymore and he can’t hurt Luca or anyone else I care about.
There was a knock. I stared at the door, wondering if I had imagined the sound. The knock repeated, and the door opened ever … so … slowly.
“Can I come in?” Luca asked.
I pushed myself into a sitting position. “Yes,” I said, my voice hoarse.
Opening the door all the way, he entered my room.
“How are you?” he asked, going to the chair by my desk and sitting down.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “How are you?”
“Better, now that you’re awake,” he said, sounding relieved.
“Were you worried?” I asked.
“I was,” he said, his amber eyes on mine.
I blinked and turned my head. “You worry about me a lot,” I said.
“I didn’t have a choice before,” he said.
I returned my gaze to him. “Why did you not have a choice?”
Now he was the one who turned away. He went to my window. “No wonder you saw me,” he said.
“You weren’t exactly hidden,” I said. “Why did you not have a choice?”
Still facing the window, he peered out toward the beach and the inn. “I felt the cursed object. It was like a beacon for the demonic,” he said, then left the window and returned to the chair.
“Is that what was in the metal box?” I said.
“Yes.”
I didn’t want to believe him. I wanted to blame the bizarreness of his words on his own lack of sanity, but that was no longer possible.
“That’s gone now.” I paused. “Thomas took care of that,” I said, my voice breaking at the mention of his name.
Luca nodded slightly. “Yes, it is gone.”
I cleared my throat and my mind of the memory of Thomas throwing the metal box from the cliff.
“Where is everyone?” I asked, sure if my dad was home, he’d be in here and Luca would not.
Luca leaned back in the chair, his arms falling loosely onto his lap. “Your dad took your grandma to the doctor.”
I felt a prickle of fear. “The medics said she was fine.”
“Yes, they did,” Luca said, “and she says she is, your dad wanted to make sure. She didn’t want to go, but he insisted.”
My body slouched, feeling tired again. “What about everyone else?” I asked.
“Sam and Jason are at work. Your sisters are downstairs. Lisieux is reading, and Avi and I were playing, now she’s on a screen.”
“That explains why she’s so quiet,” I said.
“Your dad told me I could,” he said, mildly defending his actions. “I called him when you woke up. He said to give Avi her tablet and come check on you.”
“He sent you into my room when he wasn’t home?” I raised an eyebrow.
He leaned forward, his bent arms leaning on his knees, his expression serious and sincere. “Siena, the kind of guy Thomas was … that’s not me. Your dad understands that.”
“Great, you aren’t possessed,” I said sarcastically.
“I meant, before he was possessed,” Luca said sadly.
“My dad had no problem with Thomas. He might have even liked him. Before, I mean.”
“A lot happened while you slept the last day and a half,” Luca said, as if that explained why my dad trusted him so completely.
“Like what?”
“Your dad has remembered things, things he’d forgotten. Things that I’ve only heard a few words of, but even that little bit is not mine to tell you,” he said, while the questions formed in my mind.
“It has to do with you?” I asked, confused.
Luca shook his head softly. “It has to do with good and evil. Your dad knows I’ll never hurt you.”
I watched him. He was beautiful in the truest sense of the word.
“No,” I said, “you won’t.”
He stood and went toward my bathroom.
“What are you doing?”
“I can smell your clothes from here,” he said. “They reek of dead fish and sulfur.” He shuddered as he gathered the mud-caked clothes and wrapped them in a towel.
“I’ll get them,” I said, and started to get up from the bed.
“I’d rather be the one to deal with them. You have dealt with enough,” he said.
“You were the one stuffed under a haunted inn, left to die,” I said, my voice shaking with exhaustion. “And you’re up and walking around and I … I feel so weak.”
He looked down at the towel of bundled clothes and then back to me. “We’ve both been through enough.”
He strode toward the door.
“Why?” I asked. “Why are you so much stronger than me?”
“I’m not stronger,” he said, carefully securing my clothes in the towel, placing the bundle outside the door to my room. “Thomas wasn’t my childhood friend. His death is tragic and I feel it, but not like you do.”
“It isn’t that,” I said. “Or that’s not all of it. There’s something else, something more.”
He leaned against the door frame. My tired mind was trying to figure out a riddle I couldn’t understand.
“You’re awake now,” he said softly.
“Yes, I slept for a long time,” I said.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said as he moved into the room and leaned against the wall closest to the hallway. “Since people have existed, so has evil—a constant force trying to pull us away from good, or away from God, I guess.” He paused here, as if this was part of the mystery he, too, did not understand. “There have been times in the past when evil didn’t hide. In those times, people were more connected to the world and so it could not. Now we are disconnected, so now it hides, it’s warfare subtle and strategic though no less dangerous than when it openly roamed among humanity. Even now, in our disconnected world, most can feel a sort of invisible draw toward the divine, and so evil pretends there is no force trying to keep us from the good. This is how evil wins most often, by working in strategic silence. And it wins, more times”—his voice solemn—“more times than anyone would imagine.”
“It was not silent with Thomas,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as possible.
He moved away from the wall, taking a subtle step toward me. “It was, at first. It grew slowly, pretending it was all a game, pretending the fear others felt for the inn and curse surrounding it was ridiculous. In his prideful false belief that he was different from everyone else�
��so different, the rules of goodness didn’t apply to him—he gave himself over to it.”
“How can you know that?” I said, sitting straighter.
“I’ve known others like him,” Luca said, his voice remaining steady. “In the end, it was too strong for any of them, it was no longer silent. It was no longer hidden.”
“Is that what happened …” I hesitated.
“Go ahead,” he said, his eyes not leaving mine.
“Is that what happened to o-others you knew?” I could not say “your mom.”
“Yes,” he said, his voice as intense as his gaze.
I lowered my eyes, my fingers absently picking at the feathers sticking out of the pillow I held on my lap.
After a moment I spoke. “You’re right. In the end it was no longer silent.”
“It’s the silence that makes the difference, and the silence that makes you and I different.”
“You and I?”
“The world you now recognize as real is the world I have always existed in. For me, it has never been silent. For you, it must be like waking from a dream.”
“Into a nightmare,” I said sorrowfully.
His features relaxed, making him look as gentle as a young boy. “At this moment it must feel that way,” Luca said, “but that’s not what it is. It’s waking from a dream into a beautiful reality. Because it’s real, it has real dangers. But it also has real truth, goodness, and beauty—aspects I am just beginning to understand.”
My shoulders slumped. If I was being honest, I preferred the dream. “Thomas said there wasn’t much hope for you.”
The softness of his expression faded.
“No hope for the demons to get you, I mean.”
“Perhaps not,” he said with sincere humility. “Though if that’s true, it’s only because they are as clear to me as you are. It’s much easier to fight what you can see, or at least feel.”
I hesitated. My voice betrayed my fear. “He said there was hope for me.”
Luca released his hands from his pockets and moved cautiously to the side of my bed, crouching beside it. He locked his eyes on mine. At his closeness, my mind became alert.
“The demons inside Thomas underestimate you and they underestimate me,” he said with such confidence that in anyone else it would reveal dangerous pride.
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