chapter 6

Those red glowing eyes set a course in motion that there was no stopping. I didn't go home. I didn't go hide in some corner of the world, or dig a hole to stuff my head inside. Although, I'd be lying if I said neither of those options crossed my mind.

No. I drove, purposefully and perhaps a bit illegally to the only place I thought would be safe.

Our Lady of Lourdes didn't look like the Vatican. It didn't look like some impenetrable fortress where I could spend my days, become a nun and be done with it all.

Regardless, I parked my car and rushed to the large wooden doors that stood somewhat ajar. Definitely not secure.

When I entered, the room swallowed me in its emptiness. Row upon row of seats lined either side of an isle, all vacant. At the front, hundreds of candles sat, all lit, the only source of light apart from what little sun could make it through the painted window panes.

I walked forward, each step echoing as it tapped against the plain wooden flooring.

I'd almost reached the front, when I saw a man, probably in his late thirties, step out from somewhere in the back. His eyes caught sight of me, and he offered a warm smile to cover his surprise.

"Hello, dear. Can I help you?"

"Are you Father Bayshore?" I asked as I came to a stop just a couple of feet in front of him.

He smiled again. "I am. Did you want to confess?" He motioned towards what looked like a large box with two doors.

I'd never been inside one, but had seen enough movies to know how it worked. "Anything I say in there is confidential, right? You can't tell anyone?"

The priest smiled. "That's correct."

I liked the idea. "Alright then. How do we start? Which side do I go in?"

He chuckled lightly, then motioned for me to follow him. I did, and the moment he opened the first door and waved his hand for me to enter, I stiffened.

Closet.

"It's alright. We are all sinners. We confess so that we may be forgiven."

I looked at the small bench inside, then nodded. My fear was irrational. I was in a church. He couldn't– it couldn't come here.

He closed the door, and a moment later, a little window beside me opened. I leaned forward and peeked through. A screen kept me from really seeing more than an outline, but still enough to know that he was there.

"How do we start?" I asked, nose still slightly pressed to the opening.

He chuckled again. "I take it you aren't Catholic?"

"Well... no. Do I have to be?"

He paused. "I don't suppose you do, but may I ask, if you aren't Catholic, then why have you chosen to come to Our Lady of Lourdes?"

I took a deep breath. "I need your help. There's a–" The words locked in my throat.

"What is it that makes you pause?" he asked in a voice that was nothing but calm.

"You won't believe me." I heard him shuffle, saw the outline move as he too leaned closer to the opening.

"There are many non-believers in this world. I can assure you, faith is a bit of a requirement for my line of work."

I laughed. "You're funny. I hadn't expected that."

"What did you expect, exactly?"

"I don't know." I envisioned every priest I'd ever seen, all of them on a screen. "More stern, I suppose. Maybe some ominous bells ringing in the background."

He chuckled again. "Well, I think that would get annoying after a while, so I'm not too sorry to disappoint."

I chewed my lip. He seemed so easy going. Definitely more relaxed than I'd anticipated. "There's something, I'm not sure what, maybe a– a demon. It's following me."

I gave him a moment to absorb what I'd said, and it seemed to drag on for hours. "What makes you think this?" He was less playful, but still calm.

"It's happened since I was little–" I proceeded to tell him everything. Each occurrence, the doctors, the pills, and my most recent problem, Brady.

Father Bayshore listened, never interrupting as the words seemed to flow out of me, as if a dam had been opened. A purge.

"I need you to exorcize it," I finally said. "It said on your website–"

"That's not how it works, I'm afraid." I heard him sigh. "But I will admit, your situation does sound serious."

Serious. It sounds serious, but he couldn't help me. "Is it because I'm not Catholic?" I'd convert. I'd convert if it meant he'd get rid of it. I'd do anything to get rid of it.

"No! It's not that. There are rules. I need permission to perform an exorcism. There needs to be an investigation. Proof that it's a demon–"

"Okay. When do we start? I'll do whatever I need to."

"I can perform a blessing. Sometimes, that is enough to fix the problem. If that doesn't work, we can move from there."

A blessing. "If that doesn't work? Then what?" I don't think that's gonna work. Brady was blessed enough. A mental picture entered my mind at the thought, and I immediately shook it away. That was just too messed up. Crazy, even for me.

"Let's just start with that and see what happens."

"Can you do it today? Please?" I sounded desperate, like a person begging for their life, and I felt like that's exactly what I was.

He paused again, then let out a resigned breath. "I can come after I leave here today, but it probably won't be until eight. Is that too late?"

"No, no, that's perfect. Thank you!" If there wasn't a wall between us, I'd have hugged him.

I watched his silhouette stand then heard the door, so I got up and exited to meet him.

His eyes met mine. "I want to help you." He pulled out a notepad and a pen. "Write down your address." He reached into another pocket and pulled out a beaded necklace. "Take this," he said when I handed the pad back to him. "It's a rosary. I know you're not Catholic, but perhaps it will help until I can arrive."

I looked down at the gift. The beads were lime green and made of plastic, and hanging from the bottom was a crucifix. "Thank you."

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When I got home, Brady was nowhere in sight, but I didn't let myself believe that meant he wasn't around. I kept the beads around my neck, avoided the bathroom like the plague, and instead chose to sit in the middle of the loveseat, keeping myself with an easy view of everything around me.

I'd been sitting like that for hours, and it was nearing eight. Almost time. Maybe, the rosary was working. Maybe, the thing couldn't come.

"Hello, sweetheart," Brady said, suddenly appearing on the couch across from me.

I jumped, then gripped the crucifix. My heart beat it's way up my chest and into my throat. I spent a full minute staring at him and trying to calm myself. It wasn't working. "I thought you were gone."

"What made you think that?" He leaned back, placing his hands behind his head. "I was just getting ready for your date tonight."

My traitorous eyes roamed, taking in every last inch of the god-like being across from me. He was dressed to kill, and I hoped it was just for show.

"I'm surprised someone with your fashion sense hasn't come out of the closet yet."

His expression dropped, only for a moment, then a loud booming laugh left his lungs. "That was a good one."

"It wasn't a joke," I said, managing to sound bored despite my racing pulse.

He ignored my comment, the smile still glued to his face. "So, where is this guy? I'm excited to meet him."

"He'll be here." I looked to the door, willing my words to be true, then let my eyes roam to the wall clock. Seven fifty-five. Any minute. He had to come. He was a priest. Priest didn't lie. They couldn't, could they?

"If he doesn't show, we could go out again," Brady said, suddenly beside me.

I jumped over to the far cushion and leaned away from him.

He smiled. "I know our last date didn't end too well. I know. You're just so cute when you're freaked out. I couldn't help myself."

"I'm ignoring you now." I turned away, and to my immense relief, the doorbell rang.

I jumped up and so did Brady. He kept a distance, standing in the middle of the room. He wasn't smiling anymore when I chanced a glance behind me.

I ignored the chill that ran down my spine at his dark expression and opened the door. Father Bayshore held a bible and something silver in his hands.

"Thank you again," I said as I motioned for him to come inside.

When I turned, Brady was right behind me. "Is this your date?" he asked, his mouth slightly open and eyes bright. I watched his expression morph, watched his smile widen, his eyes crinkle. His chest heaved as he seemed to struggle for a moment. "This is too good," he murmured, the words barely audible.

I wasn't feeling confident .

"Amelia." Father Bayshore laid a hand upon my shoulder, pulling my attention back to him. "What are you looking at?"

I turned back to Brady. "He can't see you, can he?"

Brady's eyes sparkled. "Oh no. It's much funnier this way."

"Is it the thing you were talking about?" Father Bayshore asked, pulling my attention back to him. His expression was concerned, but not like it had been earlier. No. He had the look. The one they all got.

He thinks I'm crazy now.

"You know, Sweetheart," Brady started. "I hate to break it to you." He took a step forward, putting his eyes level with mine. He looked pointedly over to the father, then back to me. "I don't think your date is gonna put out."

"I hate you," I growled.

"Amelia..." Father Bayshore spoke again.

"Can you do the blessing now? It's right there." I shoved a hand into Brady's chest, pushing him backward.

"Awe. You want him to bless me?" Brady cooed. "I thought this was something else. How sweet."

"Shut up," I murmured, then turned back to the father. He was watching me closely, and if I wasn't already crazy, I was about to be.

I took a deep calming breath. "Please."

Still keeping a close eye on me, the Priest opened his bible and began to read. Meanwhile he shook the silver item, sending water splattering out each time. His voice was a monotone chant, almost unreal, and it made him seem more his part, more what I had expected.

Then I looked to Brady, and his face was red. I sucked in a breath. "I think it's working!"

He seemed to choke, his cheeks puffing out. Then, the minute genuine hope flooded my chest, he exploded.

Not in a bloody, meaty sort of way. In a laughter sort of way. Brady gripped his side, doubling over as he bellowed out loud, obnoxious, roaring laugher.

"He's laughing," I said, voice flat, never taking my eyes off him. "It's not working."

"It's not going to!" Brady roared before taking multiple deep breaths in an obvious attempt to calm himself.

"Why not!" I shouted, more to the world than him.

"Because, I'm not a demon." Brady took three huge steps forward, his eyes still light but his demeanor suddenly calm, smooth. Like a jungle cat, he sauntered forward until he stood almost on top of me. His warm breath caressed my ear as he leaned forward. "But, if I was a demon, I would totally be inside you right now."

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