I’m suddenly like a volcano about to erupt. A vein in my forehead begins to pulse. I’m clenching my teeth together so hard, it’s a miracle they don’t crack. I cross my arms to keep my hands from grabbing something and throwing it across the room.
Keep calm. Don’t freak out. Remember: You need him to agree to let you help.
“I’m sure you have questions,” he says.
Oh, I have plenty of them. But let’s start with “Why didn’t you tell me?” This comes out as a yell, because the volcano cannot be contained.
“I thought maybe it would be better, easier, for you if you didn’t know the truth.” Uncle Roy runs his fingers over the report, smoothing the pages in a way I imagine he’s probably done a thousand times before. “In the beginning, I figured I could bring her back quickly. I never expected it to take this long. Or to be this difficult.” He gives me a tiny smile. “Shelby, this may surprise you, but I don’t have the answers to everything. And while my intentions were good, I see now that keeping this from you was not the best idea.”
It’s superweird to hear Uncle Roy admit that he’s wrong about something. He’s always so infuriatingly sure of himself.
Knowing what happened to her isn’t easy, but it’s better than thinking she took off without a backward glance, with no thought of me. I feel guilty for believing that she would ever abandon me.
“I am very sorry,” he says. “I hope that you can forgive me.”
I get that he was trying to protect me, but I can’t let him off the hook so easily. He knew I blamed myself for her leaving.
“You told me she was in Rome training at some top secret school for exorcists.” So top secret that even Google couldn’t turn it up. I know; I tried to find it many times.
He shifts uncomfortably. “Yes, well. The school does exist, but Robin has never been there,” he says. “As you’ll know from the file, she’s still in Seattle. At least, she was up until three weeks ago.”
I am trying to tamp down my fury. It’s probably best if we don’t talk about how he lied to me right now. I need to focus on moving forward.
“I think I’ve figured out a way that we can get her back,” I say.
Uncle Roy shakes his head. “I can’t let you be a part of this; it’s much too dangerous. Your mother would not want—”
“You can’t even get near her,” I interrupt him. “But I can. She’ll let me get close to her.” She may be possessed, but she’s still my mom. Some part of her will recognize me. I’m sure of it.
He gives me a look filled with such sadness that tears sting my eyes. “That has occurred to me. It’s part of why I’ve pushed you so hard to train all these months. But this demon … it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I fear…”
“What?”
“I fear that there isn’t anything left of her to save.”
My stomach drops. I think of what happened to poor Peter Satterley, how he’s now a living zombie. That can’t happen to my mom.
“Shelby, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I’ve tried to exorcise this demon a number of times. It’s much more powerful than I am,” he says wearily. “And it’s had a hold on Robin for too long.”
“She’s still in there. I know she is.” She has to be. “You can’t just give up on her!”
“I’m not giving up on her. I won’t ever stop trying to save her. But I’m not as young as I used to be,” he says. “I can’t promise you that I can bring her back.”
“Then let me help you! We can do it together.”
But he’s already shaking his head before I even finish the sentence. “I’m sorry, Shelby. What happened to your mom … I can’t risk that happening to you, too. Robin would never forgive me if I put you in danger.”
“You put me in danger all the time. How is this different from any other exorcism?”
“It’s very different,” he says. “You’re personally involved.”
“So are you!”
Uncle Roy’s mouth purses. “The answer is still no.”
“Come on! I have been training for almost six months. I’m ready.”
“Shelby,” he says. “This is not up for discussion.” What he doesn’t say but I hear is that he doesn’t think I’m good enough. He doesn’t believe I can save her.
I grab my bag and stalk out of the kitchen in a huff. I’m so tired of all his rules, of how he determines what I can and cannot do, how he refuses to listen to reason. It’s his way or no way, and I’m so done with it.
* * *
I spend the rest of the day wandering around Belltown, the last place, according to Uncle Roy’s report, that my mom was seen. I’ve brought my holy water and crucifix just in case, even though I know that the chances of bumping into her are infinitesimal. She’s probably long gone from this area. She might not even be in Seattle anymore.
Eventually I get tired of walking around. When I get a text from Vanessa asking if I’ll meet her at a tattoo parlor in Capitol Hill, I take it as a sign that I should give up for the day—my mom would definitely want me to stop my best friend from doing something stupid.
I stand at the bus stop in front of a boutique near the Space Needle. I watch a woman in the window slide a gauzy white peasant blouse onto a mannequin. She leaves the window but returns a minute later with a long green cardigan. I watch her dress the mannequin, her slender fingers doing up the tarnished gold buttons. It reminds me of the way my mom used to dress me when I was little, the feel of her soft hands helping me put on my jacket. My throat starts to ache.
My eyes are stinging. How could I have just accepted that she left? Why didn’t I push Uncle Roy harder for the truth?
And the worst part is that I know he’s right. Even if I find her, it’s a long shot that I can help her. Whatever demon has its grip on my mom, it’s strong enough to have kept her away from me. After so many months, her spirit will have been pushed deep, deep down. If I actually succeed in expelling the demon, there might not be anything of my mom’s spirit left.
As the bus rumbles to a stop in front of me, I wipe away my tears with the sleeve of my jacket. I know what Uncle Roy says is true—that my mom would not want me to risk my soul to save her. But I also know that there’s no way I won’t try.
Chapter
12
“ARE YOU sure about this?” I ask Vanessa as she’s about to pull open the heavy glass door to the tattoo parlor.
“For the billionth time, yes,” she replies. “It’s not a big deal, Shelbs. It’s just a little piercing.”
“It’s a tongue piercing. And when your parents see it, they’re going to ground you forever.” The O’Malleys are hardcore-Catholic strict. Vanessa’s curfew is eight o’clock—no jokes. They don’t like her talking to any boy who isn’t connected to her by blood. They are definitely not going to be down with a tongue piercing.
“It’s just a tiny one. They probably won’t even notice,” she says. “Besides, I don’t need their permission. I’m sixteen. And it’s my body.”
Her parents will notice, but there’s no point arguing with her when she’s clearly made up her mind. The bell above the door rings as we enter the Ink Factory, a small, cozy shop with hardwood floors and exposed brick walls. A couple of reclining black leather chairs, almost like what you’d see in a dentist’s office, are parked in front of tall, gold-framed mirrors. The front counter is made of amber glass blocks with a polished granite top. The place smells faintly of antiseptic.
The guy standing behind the counter glances at us, and my heart stops. He looks very familiar. Like an older, heavily tattooed version of Spencer. He’s Spencer with five years of hard partying under his belt.
“Hey, don’t you think that guy looks like Spencer?” I whisper.
Vanessa has zero chill, and she openly gives the guy the once-over. “Practically identical. But they’re brothers, so I guess that makes sense,” she says, making no effort to lower her voice.
All the blood drains from my face. I grab
her elbow. “What?”
“I might have mentioned to Spencer that I wanted to get a piercing,” Vanessa says, carefully removing my claws from her arm. “And he might have mentioned that this is his brother’s shop. He said he’d meet us here.”
I feel a flush rise through me. Butterflies immediately take flight in my stomach. When I sent him that heart-eyes emoji this morning, I thought I’d have a bit more time before I saw him again.
“Why didn’t you warn me?” My voice sounds unnaturally high. She could have at least given me a heads-up. I would have dashed home to change out of my threadbare jeans and ancient T-shirt. At the very least, I would have brushed my hair!
“Because I knew you would freak out and get all obsessive,” she says. “I wanted to spare you the angst.”
“I’m not angsty.” I expect to see Spencer at school, but having him sprung on me in the wild, when I’m not prepared, has my entire body vibrating with nerves.
Vanessa snorts. “Please. Shelby, you need to learn to relax. He’s just a boy.”
The guy—Spencer’s brother, Mark—is flipping through a thick blue binder, but I’m certain he’s only pretending to be busy to spare me the humiliation of knowing that he’s heard every word. He’s wearing a long-sleeve white T-shirt, his dark hair swept back from his forehead with a red bandana. Just behind him, lying on a fluffy purple cushion, is a massive black Rottweiler. The dog starts to growl as we walk toward the counter.
“Cerberus, knock it off,” Mark says, shaking his head. “Sorry. He’s usually pretty friendly.”
That dog looks the opposite of friendly. He looks like he would happily make a meal of us. Also, I’m pretty sure Cerberus is the name of the three-headed dog that guards the gates of the underworld. Which seems fitting.
Mark flips the binder closed. “How can I help you ladies?”
“I want to get my tongue pierced,” Vanessa says.
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
He nods. “All right then.” He hands her a consent form, and Vanessa scribbles her signature, then slides it back across the counter. While Mark goes over the logistics of what he’s about to do to her tongue, I look around at the different-size picture frames covering the walls. The frames showcase a bunch of tattoo options, everything from skulls and crossbones and four-leaf clovers to big red hearts. One tattoo in particular catches my eye—it looks kind of like a bar code, but instead of a bunch of different numbers, there are only sixes—666, to be precise.
The number of the beast.
I glance uneasily at Spencer’s brother. He’s leading Vanessa over to one of the leather chairs. Mark sits on a rolling stool in front of Vanessa, so they’re eye level, and slides on a pair of rubber gloves. “Okay, let’s see what we’re working with,” he says. Vanessa sticks out her tongue, and he grasps it between two fingers and leans forward, lifting it up to check for I-don’t-know-what. Then he grabs a marker and draws a small dot in the center of her tongue.
Mark picks up something that looks like a pair of salad tongs and squeezes Vanessa’s tongue with it. He holds up a long needle and says, “Hold still. You’re going to feel a little pinch.”
This is when things start to get a little fuzzy. I’m suddenly sweaty, and my legs feel like they’re not strong enough to support me. I slouch against the wall.
“You all right?” Mark asks, glancing at me.
“I’m fine.”
Why did I just tell him that I’m fine? I’m not fine at all. The room is dim, like someone just turned down the lights.
“You might want to sit down,” he says. “Put your head between your knees.”
Good idea.
I drop into the chair next to Vanessa and bend over at the waist, letting my hair graze the floor. My vision slowly starts to return.
“Deep breath.” I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or Vanessa. A second later, I hear her grunt, and Mark says, “All done. You’re a champ.” I hear the castors on the stool roll as he stands up. “I’m going to get you some ice to help with the swelling.” He pats my back and says, “I’ll get some for you as well.” His footsteps cross the store and disappear into another room.
Vanessa glances at me, her eyebrows raised. “Tho othay?”
“I’m fine.” I sit up slowly, feeling ridiculous. I can face down a demon with no problem, but I almost faint at the sight of a needle? Pathetic.
She stands up to check out her piercing in the thick-framed gold mirror hanging on the wall. She sticks her tongue out to show me the tiny silver ball.
“Cool.”
Vanessa shifts her gaze to the doorway Mark went through. “He’s cute, right?” she asks. Her words still sound a bit garbled, and I can hear the ball click against her teeth.
I know where she’s going with this, and I need to head her off at the pass. “Sure. But he’s also, like, way old.”
“He’s not that old.”
“Vanessa, he’s at least five years older than we are,” I say.
“Five years is nothing.”
“Tell that to the judge.”
She swats me on the arm. The bell over the door rings, and Spencer walks in just as Mark returns with two cups of ice. I’m used to seeing Spencer in his Catholic uniform, but he’s even hotter in jeans and a T-shirt. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in short sleeves, and the sight of his bare arms, his just-the-right-amount-of muscles, gives me all sorts of dirty thoughts. He glances at me, and I’m sure he can probably see the cartoon hearts in my real eyes.
“Little brother,” Mark says. “What’s up? Didn’t know you were coming by.”
“Came to see these two,” Spencer says.
Mark gives me a wide smile. “Ah, you must be Shelby, then.”
I smile back at him. He knows my name, so clearly Spencer has mentioned me. A good sign.
He hands me a red solo cup of ice. “You all right now?”
“What happened?” Spencer asks.
“She was just feeling a little faint,” he says as I shake a piece of ice out of the cup and put it against my forehead. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. Spence here can relate, can’t you, bro?” He grins. “Fainted dead away when I tried to pierce his ear last year.”
Spencer shakes his head. “Not a story I’m excited you’re sharing.”
“Oh, come on,” Mark says. “We’re all friends here.”
Vanessa laughs, like he’s just said something extraordinarily witty. She tucks one long black curl behind her ear, and she actually bats her eyelashes. It’s the most superobvious display of flirting ever, and Mark doesn’t even notice. I inwardly cringe because I know his obliviousness will just make her want him more.
He turns to me. “So, Shelby. I’m having a party next Friday,” he says. “You should come. Keep my little brother company.”
Before I can answer, Vanessa says, “We’re in.”
“See, little bro? That’s how you ask a girl out.” He chuckles and punches Spencer in the shoulder.
“Smooth, Mark. Thanks,” Spencer says, rubbing his shoulder.
Mark winks at me. He gestures for Vanessa to follow him up to the counter so she can pay for her piercing.
Spencer scrubs a hand through his thick, dark hair. “So that didn’t exactly go as I planned.”
“It’s okay,” I say.
“No, it’s really not. But I’ll wait until you’ve left before I murder him.” He gives me a half-smile. “I was going to ask you to come myself. I would have worked up the nerve eventually.”
I smile back at him. I’m not totally sure this is a date—for all I know he’s asked half of St. Joseph’s to come to this party. But, aside from the time Spencer drove me home, we’ve never hung out outside of school before. A party is a lot less pressure than a date, and it’s a good way for us to get to know each other better.
“So you’ll come?” He rubs the back of his neck. He usually has such a tight hold on himself, so seeing him so nervous makes something bloom
inside my chest.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I say.
I am in danger of falling very hard for Spencer Callaghan.
Chapter
13
VANESSA’S PARENTS made her take out her tongue piercing, because of course they did. They also grounded her, but she somehow managed to convince them to let her stay over at my house this weekend, although she held back the part about going to a party. I guess her parents figure she can’t get up to much trouble staying over in the home of a priest, but what they don’t realize is that Uncle Roy is not a prison guard; he pretty much lets me come and go as I please.
“So did you ask Spencer if Mark’s single?” Vanessa says, sliding on her purple aviator sunglasses. We’re sitting on the school steps, the remains of our lunch littered around us.
“No, but I did find out that he’s twenty-three,” I say. “I’m pretty sure that if you got together, your parents would have him arrested.”
“What are you going to wear to the party tonight?” Vanessa’s trick when she’s presented with something she doesn’t want to hear is to change the subject.
“I haven’t thought about it.” I don’t have a lot to pick from. Uncle Roy isn’t cheap, exactly, but he’s not down with paying for anything that he believes costs more than it should. And never is this more evident than when I have to buy clothes. He gives me some money to compensate for the time my exorcism training eats up—time I could be spending at a part-time job to earn money that I could use for a decent pair of jeans—but trust me when I say that his stipend doesn’t get me very far.
“Maybe I should just wear this,” Vanessa says, smoothing her kilt over her knees. “Aren’t most guys into the Catholic school girl look?”
“Ew,” I say.
Vanessa laughs, even though I totally wasn’t kidding. And I’m not sure she was, either.
“Maybe I should get a tattoo,” she says. “Somewhere my parents won’t see it. A four-leaf clover would be cute, don’t you think?”
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