Insanity

by Susan Vaught

“Let’s go.” Trina stood. “We’ve got a name. Maybe we can call him out.”

  “You got a ritual for that?” I asked her. “Because without a thin spot, we won’t be calling anything out from the other side.”

  Trina just stared at me, and I knew she was getting mad. Imogene didn’t seem to notice her at all as she got up again and this time pulled down three books, from three different shelves. She opened them all at once.

  I got to my feet and went to watch what she was doing, Cain following behind me. Imogene’s knotty fingers flew across the pages so fast I could barely follow. She flipped sections, closed first one book and then the next, until—

  “Here.” She tapped an entry.

  Trina came to stand beside me, and she was the one who read it out loud. “‘Bridgette Harper.’” The entry had admission dates for Lincoln Psychiatric, and a star by one of the dates with the note “baby girl born” scratched out to the side.

  Trina’s eyebrows shot up. “Bridgette—as in, Forest’s mother?”

  Imogene nodded.

  “Harper.” I stared at the name, and then at “baby girl born.” “You don’t think—”

  “I do.” Imogene closed the book. “Most of the Harpe folks changed their names to outrun what happened. Some changed it a lot and moved west, like old Wyatt Earp’s folks. But some stayed local and just went with ‘Harp’ or ‘Harper.’”

  “But Forest can’t be one of them,” Trina said. “She’s not evil.”

  “Evil gets chosen by the person, not the blood,” Imogene said. “She’d be the balance to her great-greats, as good as they were bad, by her own choice. Big Harpe likely feels he’s got some claim on her, and having her might make him strong enough to do things we ain’t seen from a shade afore.”

  “Is he right?” I asked.

  “Can’t say. But he was big into blood magic.” Imogene’s frown deepened every line on her face. “I’d bet he thinks he can use Forest somehow, make her open thin spots for him to come and go as he wants.”

  Trina shook her head. “She’ll never do that.”

  “Then he’ll kill her and try to take her power for his own,” Imogene said matter-of-factly.

  That should have scared me stupid, but all I could think was, Forest might still be alive. If that bastard needed her for something, maybe he hadn’t killed her. My hand dropped to the back of Cain’s neck, and I slid my fingers deep into his matted fur.

  Trina grabbed my other arm and dug her fingers into my wrist. “Let’s search the hospital.”

  “Couldn’t hurt to try.” Imogene’s voice came out as cool as a winter midnight. “Find what spirits you can, and ask what they know.”

  “You’re not going?” I asked her, fighting back a wave of worry.

  “I’m tired, boy,” Imogene admitted. “I think I might do more good here, readin’ over the books.”

  That felt like a lie, and Imogene didn’t meet my eyes when she said it. Instead, she turned her attention to Trina. “What you got left in your witch bag, girl?”

  “A few powders to slow down an attack,” Trina said. “And my willow charm.”

  I winced at the thought of her charm. It was a lot bigger than the willow circles we had carried, and strong with Addie’s magic. Problem was, when Trina used it, it was about as predictable as lightning strikes in a thunderstorm. That thing might help us, or it might blow us to bits.

  Trina seemed to read my thoughts and shrugged. “It’s better than nothing.”

  Before I could offend Trina any more, I gave a whistle to Cain, and he looked up at me with his red-fire eyes.

  “Hunt,” I told him.

  The hound stared at me for a second. It had been a while since I let him take the lead, since Forest didn’t like scaring things, even ghosts.

  Cain’s jaws pulled back and his tongue lolled out in a nasty imitation of a human grin. He thrust his nose against the floor and whuffed a breath, scenting the tile. From there he moved to the record-room door, then on out into the bell tower. Trina followed him, but I stayed long enough to give Imogene a hug and a kiss on her wrinkled cheek. Her eyes looked as dull as rain clouds, and her skin had a chill, but she smiled at me.

  “Go on with you,” she said. “Find that girl and bring her back.”

  “I will,” I said.

  As I left the room, I heard her whisper, “You better.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Hope rushed through me even though I knew we were likely on a fool’s errand. Cain led us across the grounds and into the hospital, then up some steps.

  I knew he was leading us to a spirit who likely couldn’t help us a bit, but what if ...

  Over the years, Lincoln had kept its doors locked in lots of different ways. They were using fingerprints now. Staff stuck their thumbs against a pad by the handle, something beeped, and the locks turned loose. I didn’t need any of that. I poured my power into the metal door, willing the black fog to pull out bolts and loosen connections. When I thought I’d done enough, I gripped Trina’s hand and pulled her through with me. Cain barreled in behind us, then ran ahead as the door’s mechanism went solid again.

  We followed him onto a ward filled with patients. There were men and women, old folks and young folks, all circling around like they were getting ready to leave for a meal or a group session or something.

  Cain went straight to a younger girl with blond hair, oily skin, and vacant eyes. A faint silver glow around her told me she had some Madoc blood. She didn’t care that a barghest was drooling on her feet, but when she saw Trina and me through the glamour I’d put on us, she pointed and hollered and backed against the blue wall. My heart gave a twinge as I imagined how mad Forest would be about me scaring the girl, so I whistled for Cain and held up both my hands to show the girl I meant her no harm.

  She only hollered louder.

  She’d probably need a shot. Forest was always telling me how the shots hurt and how the medicine made people slow and confused.

  There’s no excuse for scaring people when you don’t have to.

  Yeah. I got that, but I wasn’t very good at not scaring people, especially without Forest there to bug me about it all the time.

  A few seconds later, the hospital staff had the girl surrounded. They talked to her quiet-like, but her eyes stayed glued to Trina and Cain and me. My feet seemed to grow roots where I stood, but Trina thought faster than me. She walked straight up to the girl, slipping between hospital staff so easily they probably didn’t even notice the breeze.

  “It’s okay,” she told the girl. “We’re not here to hurt you. We’re just looking for some people.”

  The girl’s crying eased to puppy whimpers, and she focused on Trina. Her eyes seemed too wide and her face too flat for how scared she was. I got the idea she was hearing things even as Trina tried to talk to her.

  Trina gave me a quick, sharp look over her shoulder. “Can’t you help her be less afraid? Use some healing or something?”

  I shook my head. “Won’t work on folks who are sick in the head. Trust me. I’ve tried.”

  “Oh.” I couldn’t see Trina’s frown, but I heard it.

  The girl whimpered louder, and a nurse went to get the medicine. We were running out of time with this one. She likely couldn’t tell us anything that would help us get to Forest, but I kept right on hoping.

  “Have you seen anything unusual today?” Trina asked the girl. “You know, like us?”

  The girl just stared at Trina, her mouth open and chin trembling.

  As the nurse came out of the medication room toting a syringe, Trina tried again with, “Has anything else scared you today?”

  The girl’s eyes darted from Trina to the ceiling to the wall. Her jaw clenched, then turned loose, and her teeth chattered for a moment. Then she leaned away from the staff who were trying to make her happy and told Trina in a whisper, “He did.”

  “Who?” Trina got closer to the girl. “Who is he?”

  The girl pointed down the
hall away from us, toward the corner that led to the far section of the unit. “Him,” she said, nodding like we knew who she meant. “He came when the walls rattled, but I think he’s been here before, lots of times, only we just couldn’t see him.”

  “She’s talking crazy,” Trina said. “I don’t think she knows anything.”

  “What does he look like?” I asked the girl, careful to stay in front of Cain just in case she decided to notice the monster dog and start shrieking again.

  The girl’s eyebrows lifted, and she laughed and waved at Trina’s face. “Her,” she said, and laughed again. “He looks like her.”

  I held back a sigh as the nurse arrived with the girl’s shot. The girl raised her arms like she was going to fight, but Trina shook her head. “Let them help you. It’ll make you feel better.”

  The girl kept her fists up for second, but then she put them down. The nurse and some helpers got to her and put the shot in her hip, and I didn’t know whether to feel glad or pissed. I knew the girl was scared to death by us and the shot and whatever else she was hearing or seeing—but would the medicine make things any better for her?

  What would Forest think?

  It hurt to wonder, so I walked away, taking Cain with me. Trina hesitated, then followed. When we rounded the corner in the direction the girl had been pointing, we didn’t find anything. The hallway was empty, the rooms deserted. I felt like I had swallowed hot iron, my throat burned so bad. I knew the girl wasn’t right in the head, but I guess I’d wanted her to be telling the truth.

  I stared at the locked double doors leading to the next unit as Cain sniffed the floor.

  “Let’s go up first,” Trina said. “I hate the basement.”

  “And you say you’re searching for something.” The deep voice behind us made us both twitch and turn so quickly that we bumped into each other.

  The blond girl with Madoc blood stood behind us, swaying because the shot had already made her sleepy. Her eyes were partway closed, and a guy in hospital scrubs hovered close. Now and again he had to touch her elbow or catch her at the shoulder to keep her from collapsing.

  “You need to go to bed,” he told her. “I’ll help you.”

  The girl pulled away from him and called him a name. He didn’t fight her or say anything back, just kept her on her feet as best he could.

  Cain slid between me and the girl, growling low in his throat.

  “Did some nasty demon voice come out of that woman a second ago?” Trina asked, eyeing the sleepy patient. “When she said something to us?”

  “Yeah.” I studied the girl, feeling wary and glad Cain was there, and that I still had my bone knife tucked in my belt. “Didn’t even sound female.”

  The girl watched us through half-shut eyes, then glanced at Cain. “The Lord is my light and salvation. Whom shall I fear?” Each word sounded raspy and deeper than the one before. “Certainly not you.”

  Her features shifted like sand until she looked stern and old. The tight lines of her face made me feel sick. Something had gotten ahold of her now, for sure.

  I drew my knife as Cain snarled.

  “Move back,” I told Trina.

  She ignored me. She had her head cocked, like she was listening to her own voices. “Light and salvation—that’s Psalm Twenty-seven,” she muttered. “From the Bible.”

  The girl’s face worked like she was fighting whatever had taken hold of her words, but she lost in a hurry.

  “Get out of the way,” she said, and the words echoed with hisses and scorn. She was talking to Trina, who pulled her willow charm from her pocket and held it in front of her.

  “Don’t!” the thing in the girl growled.

  Cain snapped his jaws, flinging drool as my heart thumped. I didn’t know what scared me more: the possessed girl, or that charm.

  “Show yourself,” Trina demanded.

  The charm didn’t do a thing, and the girl laughed, too low and too long. Then she swore and sagged toward the floor. The guy in scrubs caught her before she hit the tile, scooped her up, and began carrying her toward her room as he hollered for help.

  Trina kept holding up her charm, but her arm shook. We both watched as some of the ward staff vanished into the girl’s room, followed by a nurse who stepped in and closed the door. Cain padded away from us, stopping just in front of the doorknob. He stood very, very still, tail out, nose extended, until he reminded me of some kind of Satanic pointer dog.

  Even after a few seconds of quiet, I still had my knife raised, and Trina had that charm pointed at the closed door.

  “Why was she talking like that?” Trina asked.

  “Possessed by a spirit,” I said.

  “Possessed?” Trina held her shaking arm even straighter. “Like in The Exorcist? You and Imogene never said anything about ghosts being able to possess people.”

  “Yeah, we did. Remember Captain James? We thought maybe he was possessed.”

  Trina snorted her opinion of that.

  I lowered my knife, then tucked it into my belt. Best to set a good example. There was nothing to see here, and nothing more to learn.

  The moment Trina lowered her willow charm, the door to the girl’s room burst open.

  Trina yelled, and so did I. Cain scrambled backward, and Trina and I leaped sideways as a black cloud boiled out of the girl’s room. It rolled toward us, covering the floor and walls and blotting out light as it came.

  I lunged toward the cloud before it could get to Trina.

  The storming darkness splashed across me. It felt like buzzing ice water, stinging and freezing as it clawed its way under my skin, into my body, into my being. I shouted and swung my fists through the vapor, but it didn’t do any good. The cloud poured into me.

  My heart thundered and my body rattled until my teeth knocked together. Images and feelings and ideas blasted against my thoughts. I pushed back, but inky waves crashed over my awareness. I saw Trina—truly saw her. Somehow I knew her as a baby, and I could tell how much stronger and older she was now. I was pissed. In a rage. Happy. Surprised. I couldn’t hear, and yet I could hear everything.

  “Reproach hath broken my heart; and I am full of heaviness,” my mouth said in a low, awful voice. “And I looked for some to take pity, but there was none.”

  “Psalm Sixty-nine.” Trina had her charm back up, only it was pointed at me now. “What are you playing at?”

  Cain turned on me, his fire eyes wild with uncertainty. He bared his teeth and growled at me. I tried to will him to back down, but I couldn’t direct my thoughts or say a word on my own. Disgust and disapproval stacked up in my chest until I thought my ribs would crack from the weight. These were not my feelings. I wanted to yell and rip myself away from whatever had taken hold of me, but it was way too strong.

  Move to the door.

  A command I couldn’t resist. I stumbled toward the end of the hall, then reeled like the ground was cracking underneath my feet. The metal double doors stood in front of me, then parted like cold mist. I staggered forward—

  And fell straight into hell.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  My knees cracked against tile even as my hands grabbed for the back of a chair to break my fall. Bright colors blinded me, and my ears popped like somebody had thrown me down the side of a mountain. I tried to find Trina in my mind, or reach out to Imogene, but they were closed away from me.

  The spirit yanked me to my feet, and I found myself face-to-face with an older lady dressed in a pink housecoat and slippers. Hundreds of tiny black bugs crawled all over her. Thousands. Maybe millions. She screamed and scratched at them, and blood dribbled around the scurrying legs and wings.

  My insides churned. I tried to reach for the woman to scrape the bugs off her, but my fingers stayed locked around the wooden slats of the chair back. My head forced itself to the left, toward a guy sitting in a chair in the doorway of his room. He looked to be maybe twenty, with thick brown hair and a beard.

  You can’t hide! boom
ed a voice from the ceiling, and the guy winced. The ceiling hissed at him, then muttered in different voices I couldn’t make out. He stared at his feet, and his face turned to a mask of terror.

  I let go of the chair and turned away from the guy toward an older man with a crew cut and big, wide eyes. He was walking quickly toward a black wall in the center of the hall. The wall looked wavy and wrong, and when he reached it, he spun around and walked back toward another wall just like the first one. Faces popped out of the walls, groaning and twisting and moaning. Holes opened where their eyes should have been. The man tried not to look at them, but when he did, he choked out little screams and walked faster.

  You can’t hide! shouted the ceiling. They’re coming. Do you understand? You can’t get away. You’re dead!

  The scratch-scratch of scurrying bugs muffled the ceiling’s yelling, and I could have sworn they were chewing on something. My eyes flicked back to the woman they were attacking and saw blood dripping off her fingertips and pooling on the floor in front of her bug-covered feet.

  If I could have covered my ears and slammed my eyes shut, I would have done it, but instead my body fell forward, barely missing one of the walls full of faces. Arms reached out of the tarry depths for me, fingers closing inches from my nose.

  I staggered one step past the walls, then two, then three and four, until I stood in front of a much older lady. Her loose gray hair looked wet, like she’d been sweating, and she waltzed in a small circle as tinkling music played. It seemed faraway and old-fashioned, and she looked so sad I wanted to cry for her.

  On I went down the hallway, in control of nothing. On my right, a middle-aged man wearing paint-flecked jeans swung his fists at bats that dived at his shoulders and face. On my left, a young guy listened to whispering voices telling him he was rich and famous. He laughed and nodded, and a girl in a chair a few feet away yelled at him to be quiet. Then she went back to chattering at a black shadow beside her. The shadow said something about killing her family, then shook a fist at her as she started to cry.

  How dare you ignore their agony? asked the voice in my head. Look upon their suffering and deliver them!