Be Not Afraid

by Cecilia Galante

  A silent, thundering moment passed.

  “I know the whole thing sounds surreal,” he went on. “And trust me, if I hadn’t already seen the things I’ve seen with my own eyes, if it wasn’t happening to my own sister, inside my own home, I wouldn’t believe it either.”

  “All right, so what happens?” I asked. “I mean, after the real demon manifests?”

  “Well, then the actual battle begins. The priest has to try to get it to leave the person’s body. They use all sorts of different prayers taken from a book called The Rite. There’s prayers for luring the demon to speak, and prayers for getting it to leave the body. But leaving is the last thing the demon wants to do. So it will torment the priest and say all different kinds of things to get him to break.” Dominic’s knuckles turned white against the steering wheel. “The thing is, by that point, it’s the actual demon doing all the talking. Which means that everything that is said is a lie.”

  “A lie?”

  “Yeah.” Dominic made a sharp right onto Greenbriar Lane. Two more miles and we would turn onto the paved road in front of his house. “It’s the devil speaking, Marin. The devil is all about lies. I mean, one of his nicknames is the Prince of Lies. He’ll say or do whatever he needs to say to get the exorcist to doubt himself and give up.”

  “Like about my mother,” I said. “About my gift being evil.”

  “Yes,” Dominic said. “Exactly. But the exorcist knows not to listen. He just keeps at it and at it, no matter what. Until it leaves again.” He shifted in his seat, glancing in the rearview mirror. “It’s not always as easy as that, of course. Some exorcisms can take weeks or even months. And some never work.”

  “So a demon can just stay in the person?” I asked. “Forever?”

  “Or until the person goes insane. Or kills themselves. But that’s the only thing the demon wanted in the first place.”

  I could not be sure if the wave of nausea that swept over me then was due to the sudden swerving of Dominic’s car or the words that had just been spoken. Either way, I clapped my hand over my mouth and brought my head down between my knees.

  “Marin?” Dominic reached out and touched me on the back. “You okay?”

  I didn’t answer. A nameless fury was surging inside, an urgency that coursed through me like blood. Why were we doing all this? Where were the adults? Why weren’t they taking over, assuming charge of things the way they were supposed to be doing? Or were we really the only ones with the answers? The only ones who knew, when all was said and done, what to do here?

  “I really think that with Father William in the room,” Dominic said, “and you believing in what you have, that we have a chance.”

  I sat back up, smoothed my palms over my cheeks.

  “I told you the pain in my wrist is gone.” He lifted his hand, twisted it from side to side as if to demonstrate. “That can’t be an accident. Think of all the times you’ve held my hand, Marin. All the times I’ve held yours.” He flushed. “I mean, it hasn’t been a lot, but it’s been enough, I guess.”

  He believed me.

  He believed in me.

  It couldn’t be so hard for me to do the same, could it?

  “Father William’s going to be there?” I struggled to buckle my seat belt with my free hand, a ridiculous thing, since we were less than a half mile from his house, but it was the only thing I could think of to do, maybe even the last protective gesture I would make for myself. And yet maybe, if Father William was going to be present …

  “Yeah. My mom called him this morning.” Dominic leaned over, clicking the buckle into place for me. “I told them they had to, that there were no other options left. They were totally against it at first, but when I told them the whole story …” He looked at me, waiting.

  “Tell me they laughed.” My voice was fierce. Dangerous.

  “No.” He sounded awestruck, as if he still didn’t believe it. “They didn’t laugh at all.”

  I felt my shoulders loosen. “Do they believe she’s possessed now?”

  “I don’t know what they believe. But they called Father William. It actually took a while to convince him to come. He kept saying he wasn’t an exorcist, that there was no way he could do anything. But then my mother got on the phone. She was crying. She told him Cassie was dying, that at the very least, he could come be with her, even deliver last rites if he had to.” He rubbed his cheek. “I guess it worked. He’s on his way.”

  The priest was on his way.

  And now so was I.

  Mr. Jackson met Dominic and me at the top of the stairs, his relief palpable as he caught sight of my casted arm. “Oh, Marin. Thank God you’re okay. I was going to drive to the house today …” He coughed, his fingers tightening over his mouth. “I’m so sorry. For all we’ve put you through.”

  The moment was interrupted by a loud crashing sound above. I yelped and then pressed my good hand over my mouth, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. Small pieces of plaster fluttered down like dusty snowflakes, coating the green rug. Another crash, louder than the first. This time, a picture hanging in the foyer slid off the wall, the glass smashing into a thousand pieces. The sound of a scream ricocheted through the walls, and the banister winding its way along the staircase trembled.

  “Come on.” Dominic pulled me toward the stairs. Mr. Jackson’s face twisted in anguish as we moved past him, but he did not say anything.

  Dominic held my hand as we ascended the steps, and he did not drop it when we caught sight of Father William standing just outside the door. The priest limped over, his eyes sweeping over my cast. “You’re all right?” he asked.

  “Just a broken arm.” I squeezed his hand. “You came.”

  “I don’t …” His face was ashen. “I don’t know what I can do.”

  “Have you seen her?”

  He nodded. “She’s in terrible shape.”

  “She’s possessed,” I said tightly. “Like I told you. You have to help her, Father. You have to.”

  “There’s no way we can know if she’s actually possessed, Marin.” The priest searched my face. “I told you, that’s up to a professional to determine.”

  “You don’t have to believe us,” I said. “Maybe it won’t matter. Maybe just having you in there will help.”

  “I’m here to deliver last rites, Marin. I told you before, I’m not an exorcist.”

  “You can still help her, Father,” I said, gripping his hands. “You can still try.”

  “Why aren’t you listening to me?” An incredulous expression passed over his face. “It’s not possible.”

  “Anything’s possible,” I said. My brain was moving a mile a minute. “Think about the doctors who told you you’d never walk again after you broke your neck. What would have happened if you’d listened to them?”

  Father William gazed at me silently.

  “You believed in yourself. You wanted to walk again. And you did, despite what everyone else around you was saying. I know you haven’t been trained as an exorcist. But you’re a Catholic priest, which is one of the strongest weapons we have right now in this house. You’ve got to believe that you can help.”

  “Marin.” He took a step toward me, as if getting ready to shake me by the shoulders, but I warded him off, taking a step in the opposite direction.

  “Just try!” I almost screamed. “Why can’t you just go in and try? That girl in there is almost dead and you’re going to stand here and argue about not having the right credentials? Please, Father! I’m telling you—”

  “Did you bring the book, Father?” Dominic interrupted, putting a hand on my shoulder. “My mother said you were going to bring the prayer book you need to do an exorcism. Do you want me to get it for you? Do you have it here?”

  “In the car,” Father William said hoarsely. “Inside a black bag on the front seat.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Dominic raced toward the steps, bounding down them two at a time before disappearing through the front door.

&
nbsp; Father William held my gaze for a long, silent moment, and for the first time, I could see the fear in his eyes. His lips were dry and cracked, and when he ran a tongue over them, the tip of it shook. I reached for his free hand and took it.

  “I’ve only read about exorcism rituals,” he whispered. “I’ve never actually done one. It might not work.”

  “I know. But we have to try.”

  “We?” He shifted his cane, leaning heavily against it. “You can’t come in there with me, Marin.”

  “She has to be in there.” Dominic burst out from the top of the stairs again, panting heavily. “Cassie knows Marin can see the demon inside her. She believes Marin can help it leave.” He glanced at me. “And I think she can too.”

  If Father William understood that Dominic knew about my eyes, he gave no indication of it. “It could be dangerous,” he said instead. “If the demon manifests …” His face paled a bit, as if the reality of the situation had finally dawned on him. He reached inside the black bag, pulled out a purple stole, and draped it around his neck, patting the ends in place against his chest. “You musn’t listen to anything it says.” His voice was different now, a man preparing for battle. “You know everything the devil or his minions say is a lie. Everything.”

  “I know.”

  “Stay behind me.” Father William took a small booklet out of the bag Dominic had given him. The title on the cover read The Rite. “I’ll be saying a lot of prayers from this book and moving around, holding a crucifix.”

  “Cassie needs to see her,” Dominic argued. “Marin has to look at her or touch her.”

  “Fine.” From inside the bag, the priest plucked a small plastic bottle of water with a picture of a crucifix on the front. “Just try to stay out of the way. I don’t want to trip over you or worse, have you trip over me.” He unscrewed the top of the bottle, flicking a few drops of the water on me and then against his own face. “Holy water,” he said, recapping it once more.

  “It helps?” Dominic asked.

  “Everything blessed by God helps,” Father William said. He looked at Dominic as if seeing him for the first time. “You haven’t seen the demon, have you?”

  “Me?” Dominic looked startled. “No. God, no.”

  “Fine.” Father William nodded once. “Then you’ll have to wait downstairs. We’ll come get you when we’re done.”

  “But I’ve—” Dominic protested.

  “Absolutely not.” The priest held up his hand. “Marin and me only. Or I don’t go in.”

  Dominic and I exchanged a glance.

  “It’s okay,” I said, taking his hand. “I’m in good company.”

  “I’ll be right outside,” he said, squeezing my fingers. “Right here. The whole time.”

  I nodded.

  “Okay, then?” Father William asked.

  I squared my shoulders and took off my sunglasses. “Yes.”

  It was time.

  If Cassie’s room was cold before, now it was achingly so, the frigid air knifelike inside my lungs as I drew a breath. I could feel the tiny hairs inside my nose freezing, and the tips of my fingers began to feel numb. But it was impossible to focus on my discomfort when I saw Cassie across the room. She was still tied to the mattress, still dressed in the same clothes, but everything else about the girl I had once known had vanished. Her neck was elongated and swollen, like something out of E.T. The skin on her face was stretched taut, a hide pulled over a board and scraped raw, and her eyes bulged from their sockets, as if something from the inside was pushing on them.

  Even more terrifying was the blackness inside, which engulfed everything, from the top of her head to her feet. A low, wheezing sound drifted from her lips, like something was literally sucking the life out of her. Despite her physical agony, a horrifying sneer was plastered across her lips, and her tongue moved suggestively in and out of her mouth. Worst of all were the noises: grunts and groans that emerged from behind her gasping mouth, interspersed with odd cackles and hysterical laughter. It was no longer Cassie Jackson in that room. I knew the demon had taken over completely. It had manifested.

  Father William approached the girl cautiously, limping, a rosary entwined in his right hand, a wooden crucifix in his left. He had left his cane by the door. “Hello, Cassie,” he said.

  “Cassie doesn’t live here anymore,” the demon hissed. “She’s decided to … go elsewhere.” She tittered hideously, as if letting us in on a horrifying secret.

  “Where has she gone?” Father William’s voice shook.

  “Farther down.” Cassie’s lips curled back. “Where it’s warmer.”

  Father William was already reciting a prayer of some kind, and he stood over Cassie, pressing one end of the purple stole against her forehead.

  “In nomine Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.”

  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

  The exorcism had begun.

  A litany of prayers poured from Father William’s mouth as he read from the black book. He knelt next to Cassie, still pressing the ends of his purple stole against her forehead. His voice shook. “God, creator and defender of the human race, look down on this your servant whom you formed in your own image and now call to be a partaker in your glory …”

  Cassie rolled and writhed under his touch, desperate to get away from the purple and white silk garments. Her body gyrated, first to the right, and then to the left. Tennis-ball-sized shapes appeared along the sides of her neck and then the tops of her arms with such speed that it looked as though the entire length of skin might split beneath them. Suddenly, her screams turned to pitiful cries, a horrible, mournful noise that leaked out of her. “It burns!” she wailed. “Please. Take it off! You’re hurting me!”

  Father William removed the stole from her forehead and placed it against the right side of Cassie’s neck, directly over one of the horrible shapes. Beads of sweat appeared along his hairline, and his eyes were as wide as bottle caps. “Hear, Holy Father, the groaning of your supplicant Church: do not suffer your daughter to be possessed by the father of lies.…”

  He spoke with effort, and I could hear the strain in his voice, the thick pull of fear from somewhere deep inside. For some reason, the red shapes glowering at the base of his spine seemed to be getting larger by the minute. Taking a step forward, he shook holy water onto Cassie’s feet and then her face, reciting a prayer to Saint Michael.

  “Nooooooo!” the demon screamed. “Stop it! Stop it!” Cassie threw her head back and arched her spine. Her toes were rigid. “The one you pray to is not with you!” she hissed in a strangely metallic-sounding voice. “No one is with you, Priest. You are alone. Deserted.”

  Father William stiffened at the demon’s words. His whispered prayers got louder as he continued to recite the rosary, but his words shook audibly.

  “Father!” I said, trying to make myself heard over the demon’s words. “Don’t listen!”

  He nodded blindly, his lips still moving over the silent words of his prayers. He turned back to Cassie, squaring his shoulders as if to brace himself. The red orbs inside his back were twice the size they had previously been, and the back of his shirt was damp with perspiration. He held the crucifix over her upturned face and bellowed out a plea:

  “Hear God, lover of human salvation, the prayer of your apostles Peter and William and of all the saints, who by your face emerged as victors over the Evil one: free this, your servant, from every foreign power and keep her safe.…”

  “Shut up!” the throated voice inside Cassie commanded. “Your words are useless! You are completely powerless over me! There is nothing you can do! Nothing!”

  Father William reached out with his right hand and pressed it against the middle of Cassie’s chest. He was fumbling, stammering, trying to get more words out, glancing at the book and then back at the girl. The lifted crucifix made a strange shadow along the shredded skin of her face, and the swollen shapes along her neck were ringed with pink mark
s. Suddenly, she jerked her head out from under the priest’s hand and then turned, clutching at her throat, moving toward him, her mouth opening and then closing like a gutted fish. A new voice emerged from her mouth, childlike, desperate. “Oh, Booey! Booey!”

  Father William’s face paled as Cassie clawed at the knees of his pants, burying her face against his legs. “Booey, help me! I can’t breathe! Please, Booey!”

  Father William took a step back, his mouth ajar, the rosary in his hand forgotten. He looked stunned. Lost.

  “Don’t listen to it!” I grabbed Father William by the wrist.

  But it was clear that he could not hear or see anything except the innocent voice coming out of Cassie. “Booey, please!”

  He fell to his knees, a bone cracking beneath the skin, his face gray. “Booooooey!” the demon wailed again in the child’s voice. “I can’t breathe! Booey, help me! It’s so dark! Please!”

  Father William staggered to his feet.

  And then he turned and stumbled from the room.

  I followed, the sound of the vile cackling behind me as I slammed the door. Dominic was on the floor, knocked down by Father William’s abrupt exit, and he leapt to his feet as he saw me, reaching for me with both arms.

  “What happened?” he asked, clutching at me.

  “I don’t know.” I twisted out of his hold, moving toward the priest, who was at the other end of the hall, both hands covering his face.

  “Father.” I stayed a few feet behind, not wanting to frighten him. “What’s wrong?”

  He sank to the floor at the question, as if it had undone him, one hand still covering his face.

  I slid down next to him, inches away. “Is it because of Booey?”

  His head lurched up so quickly that I reared back. I stared at the sorrow swimming there in his eyes, the absence of hope.

  I knew that look.

  I did.

  “Who’s Booey?” I asked.

  He set his jaw with deliberation, even as the tears streamed down his face. “I’m Booey,” he said. “Booey was my nickname growing up, the only way my little brother could pronounce Billy. That day in the pool, when he was calling for me …” He broke off, his eyes searching something in the distance. “The demon knew. It knew.”