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It was all eerily quiet now — or rather, if the demons were making a ruckus, the sound wasn’t traveling as far as the garage. I suppose that made sense; despite the monsoon storm earlier, the night was still warm, and now a little muggy, thanks to all the rain. Most likely, my mother and Tom had the windows shut and were running the air conditioning, which meant there was a perfectly logical reason for why I couldn’t hear anything.
“Guess I’d better go check it out,” I said, and my mother made a muffled sound of alarm.
“You shouldn’t go in there,” Tom told me.
I shrugged. Whether he believed the casual act, I didn’t know, but it was just as important to me to pretend this was another day at the office as it was for him to believe me. Honestly, I couldn’t think of many things I had less inclination to do than walk into that house. However, I’d promised to help, and I’d come all the way over here, and so it was silly to stand out by the garage and do nothing.
“It’ll be all right,” I assured him. “I just want to listen to what’s going on. I don’t plan to go upstairs.”
Those words seemed to relieve Tom a little bit — he hesitated, then glanced down at my mother and said, “That sounds like it should be okay.”
“I don’t know,” she replied. Despite the muggy warmth of the night, she had on a sweatshirt and was hugging her arms around herself, as if she’d picked up a chill she couldn’t dispel. Maybe even her hot flashes weren’t enough to keep her warm in this sort of situation. “I don’t think it’s worth it, Selena. It’s just a house.”
Maybe that was true, but now my professional pride was involved. I needed to know just what the heck was going on in there.
“I’ll be careful,” I said. “And I’ll be out here at the first hint of any trouble. I’ve got my running shoes on, see?”
And I lifted one foot to show off my lime green Keds.
That gesture earned me a weak smile. “If you’re sure….”
“I’m sure,” I said firmly. “Just wait here. I’ll be back in five.”
Before either of them could offer any further protests, I turned and headed up the flagstone path to the front porch. As I approached, I had the stray worry that maybe they’d locked the door as they left, and I’d be forced to head back and get the key.
But no — when I put my hand on the knob, it turned easily enough.
I pulled in a breath and stepped inside.
And immediately thanked the Goddess that I’d gotten a mouthful of damp night air while I was standing on the porch, because I definitely didn’t want to breathe in any of the fetid odor that immediately surrounded me. It smelled like a wet skunk had rolled in road kill and then rubbed its stinking fur over every surface in the house.
I wanted to gag but somehow held it together. From the stairwell came the same moans and screams and horrible giggling laughs that I’d heard before, only even louder this time, more strident. Those sounds were interspersed with pounding noises that sounded as though they were emanating from inside the walls.
Even though I wanted to turn and run, I made myself take a step forward, and then another. Maybe it would have been better if I’d been brandishing a cross in one hand and a vial of holy water in the other, but all I had with me was the jar of moon water I’d grabbed as I left the apartment.
It would have to do.
I fished it out of my purse and unscrewed the lid, and took a quick breath. The air seemed to stink even worse this time, and I swallowed. I honestly didn’t know how long I’d be able to hold out in here.
Heart pounding, I approached the stairwell. All right, I had promised my mother and Tom that I wouldn’t go upstairs, but I figured it should be safe enough to stop in front of the first step.
“This isn’t your home!” I cried out. “By all the gods and spirits, by all the powers of the four quarters, I banish you from this place!”
And I splashed some moon water onto the banister and the steps.
I didn’t know what I’d been expecting. Some kind of a reaction, even if it was derisive laughter at my puny efforts.
But nothing happened. The moaning and the shrieks and the giggles continued, and the pounding still came from inside the walls. It was like I wasn’t there at all.
Which maybe was a good thing. If the demons were ignoring me, that meant they probably weren’t inclined to do me bodily harm the way they had poor Brant Thoreau.
“I mean it!” I called out. “Leave this place, or I’ll come back with the big guns!”
Exactly which big guns, I wasn’t sure. Maybe the “Neil” person Brant had mentioned on his recording. I somehow doubted the priest at the local Catholic church would be too interested in lending a hand — the couple of times I’d met him, he’d seemed like a stuffy individual, not the sort of person to get involved in an exorcism.
Or maybe he just hadn’t approved of the pentacle I had hanging around my neck at the time.
Everything went dead quiet. For a second, I just stood there, goggling at the sudden silence.
