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He takes a breath, straightens up and gazes into my face. His brow knits in concern. “They’ll keep him alive as long as they need to.“
I chew on my lower lip. “Yeah,“ I say. “That goes for all of us, right?“
“Misha thinks that they work on our timeline, but I think that things are a bit less straightforward than that,“ he says. “I think they possess people and keep them around as long as they’re useful. And once they realize they’re not useful, or things don’t go the way they expect them to, then I think what happensisstraightforward. They feed on the person they’re possessing until they’re a husk of their former selves and they slowly lose everything to this process, to this…to this sickness.“
“Is that where you come in?“
He shakes his head. “No. I think that once the demonic presence has written off the possessed, we’re likely to be too late. We can try, but it’s all a hail mary.“
“But why do you think they targeted my mom and I specifically?“
“It’s hard to say,“ he replies. “But you were both women, extremely talented…hard not to see a similarity there. And once the demon takes place, it feels like a curse. It runs through your family’s blood, the same as genetics would.“
I swallow. “So I shouldn’t have children.“
He blanches at that, his hand suddenly flying off mine. “I didn’t mean to imply that. I don’t want to have a hand in your reproductive choices.“
I sniffle, the sugar on my tongue and lips suddenly too much. The ice cream was delicious, but at this point, it’s making me nauseous. I kind of wish I hadn’t had it in the first place.
Something about all this is making me feel sick to my stomach.
“I’m not saying that it’s not something you can cure,“ he says. “Obviously I believe you can cure it. But I do think that, the longer we wait, the harder it’s going to be. And I don’t want you to suffer, Trine. Not if you don’t have to. So I’m going to do anything in my power to stop that from happening.“
I rub my temple, my head suddenly throbbing. “But what if itistoo late?“
“It isn’t,“ he replies. He traces the outline of my face with a finger. This clearly isn’t just a supportive gesture. It’s something more, and if anyone knew he was a priest–if he was wearing his collar right now–I’m sure this would be scandalous. But, as it stands, we just look like any couple.
Talking quietly, in hushed voices about something serious, sure. Even then. To the naked eye, we look completely ordinary. I think Luke is probably taking advantage of that, of the anonymity that not looking like a priest gives him. I wonder if he wears it so that other people know or if it’s to protect himself from…I don’t know, people like me, I guess.
“It’s not too late, Trine,“ he says when I say nothing else. “We’re going to try until we’re sure you’re rid of this. Completely. Then you can go on living your life without any weird impositions, without…you know, without us. You don’t want three random men in your life.“
The thought of losing them makes my nausea worsen. “That’s where you’re wrong,“ I say. “I don’t just want you in my life. I need you.“
“Right,“ he says thoughtfully. “But you shouldn’t have to. Don’t you see how things will be much better for you once you don’t need to have us around anymore?“
I want to believe him. I just don’t know if I can.
TRINE
I’m aware I can’t avoid going back to my mom’s house forever, so we need to get back at some point. I can’t just leave Rei and Misha there. I know that there’s still plenty to talk about, a lot of research to do.
Talking to Luke has helped. I have to steel myself to go back, and I know I have to do more research because I need to not have a demon possess me anymore. That seems like the most sensible way to go about this.
“We need to go back,“ I say. “Thank you for hanging out with me. And for talking me down. I don’t think I realized how much I needed it.“
“Of course,“ he replies. “That’s what I’m here for.“
I smile at him. I hand him the keys to the car and he doesn’t ask me for an explanation. I don’t need to tell him that I’m feeling too overwhelmed to think about doing anything right now, including something as simple as driving.
Once we’re in the car, I shift uncomfortably. I think I need to tell him about the counselor at the crisis center. It feels like important information. It might hinder me to keep it to myself. They’re all trying to help, right?
Even then, this feels like a secret, and my heart beats fast in my chest before I can force myself to speak. “There's something I need to tell you.“
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. His long fingers wrap around the wheel, the suggestion of ink under his sleeve just enough to peak my curiosity. I don't want to ask him about it. He can tell me, when–if–he feels like telling me.
He waits for me to say something.
“I think I met him.“
