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So I hang back despite how worried I am and my heart drops when I hear the sound of a lock clicking somewhere. Then I hear it–the sound of slow footsteps coming toward us.
Trine stands at the top of the stairs, peeking down over the railing, rays of sunshine catching in her wavy blonde hair. “Come on,“ she says, her voice shaky. “She knows you’re here.“
This isn’t how I pictured this, but I nod and start walking up with the rest of the guys. Trine is the only one who hesitates. She walks away from us and I let my gaze wander down the length of her body, her hips tapering into shapely legs, the suggestion of curves under her spaghetti strap dress. We follow her slowly, until she gets to the open front doors of her mom’s house.
“Mom, these are my friends,“ she says. “They’re here because they want to help, too.“
Trine must look a lot more like her father, because this woman is tall and olive skinned with a huge smile on her face, slightly graying black hair in an elegant haircut that falls just to her shoulders. Trine is short, peach-skinned. The only thing that I think they have in common is their eyes.
Wide. Brown. Beautiful.
When Aura Dawes meets my eyes, her smile turns into a grin. She looks friendly. She ushers us inside and her husband–whose name I missed and I don’t want to ask again–offers us drinks. We sit in a large, air-conditioned sunroom in the back of the house that leads to a giant wooden deck.
Trine eyes her mother’s husband suspiciously. She sits on the rocking chair across from Aura, where the rest of us file into a large red sectional. Aura Dawes clearly likes color.
“Honey,“ she says, turning to her husband. “Do you mind going to the store and getting us some snacks? I don’t think we have anything for my daughter and her friends.“
He cocks his head before his brows raise in recognition. “Yes, of course,“ he says. “I’ll be right back.“
Then he leaves the sunroom and we’re left there as Aura explains that he won’t be long, the shop is just down the road, and they’re very happy to have us no matter how surprised they are.
“So,“ Aura says, after we all have cups of coffee and we’re done talking about the weather. “Trine says that she needs my help. I assume you three are involved somehow?“
“Yes,“ Misha says, flashing Trine a sideways glance. “We’re…“
Is he going to say we’re exorcists? He normally uses some sort of euphemism. People find that easier to digest.
He takes a deep breath before he speaks. “We’re in the same business you are,“ he says, finally. “And we have reason to believe that your daughter has been targeted by some otherworldly entities.“
Aura narrows her eyes as she takes a sip from her cup of coffee, steam coming off it. She brushes a strand of loose hair behind her ear and straightens up. “There’s no need for you to beat around the bush. You can be as crude as you want. I find that much easier to follow.“
I force myself not to smile when I see the look on Trine’s face. She’s obviously used to this. I can’t say it doesn’t remind me of her.
I clear my throat, leaning forward toward her with my elbows on my knees. She turns her head to eye me suspiciously.
“We think your daughter is possessed,“ I say. “We originally performed an exorcism on her, which we believed to be successful, but it appears that something is lingering.“
Her eyes widen and her grip around the mug tightens, but she says nothing. She cocks her head and watches me. “What are you?“
“What do you mean?“
“What’s your expertise?“ she asks. “How do you know my daughter was possessed?“
I open my mouth to answer her, but Trine interrupts me before I do. “They’re professionals,“ she says, pointing at each one of us. “Rei is a psychiatrist, Luke is a priest and…“
“I’m a demonhunter,“ Misha says. “Former social worker.“
Aura shifts uncomfortably in her seat, putting her cup down on the glass coffee table in front of her. “That’s what I thought.“
“What?“ Trine asks.
“I was the one who called them, Trine,“ she says, turning to look at her.
Trine blinks. She shifts in her seat. She swallows, her jaw hardening. I think she wants to scream at her mother, but all she does is fist her hands over her lap. I want to wrap her in a hug and make her feel better, but this isn’t the time. Trine is giving herself a second to breathe before she answers her, the silence tense and stretching around us.
“Wait, I thought that was anonymous,“ Trine answers.
“We had a name, but your voice doesn’t sound familiar,“ I tell her. “And I got a name. Ilana Joslin.“
