AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What?“
“I think that I met him,“ I say. “The guy–the demon–from my dreams. I think that I met him.“
Luke considers that for a long second. We’re on the street now, the engine purring under us before we drive away. “In real life?“
I nod, my mouth dry. “That day, I was feeling like I was about to lose it and I decided to go to a crisis center. My therapist moved to Chicago and also, I haven't spoken to her about any of this. It just...I mean, is it silly if I say it's embarrassing?“
He looks over his shoulder as he pulls out of the parallel parking spot. “You can talk about whatever with me,“ he says. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.“
“Yeah, I’m not embarrassed around you,“ I say. “Just around a therapist. I don’t know how it’s going to work if they don’t believe me. Like are they going to try to get me institutionalized?“
“I don’t think they can section you in any state if you’re not a threat to yourself or others. Do you feel like you’re a threat to yourself?“
“Not most of the time.“
“Great. So that answers that question.“
“How can I go to someone and tell them that I’m okay but I think I’m possessed?“
“Well, what did you tell this guy?“ he asks. The trees above us cast shade on the small road, the AC blowing hard on us.
“Just that I was having problems sleeping,“ I say. “He told me to keep a dream journal. Then my mom said that, when it started, she had problems with sleeping too. And honestly, meeting him…the way he actually decided to see me was pretty weird.“
“What do you mean?“
“He didn’t have a reason to see me, but he still asked me to go into his office and talk to him,“ I reply, leaning against the headrest and looking up at the closed sunroof. “It almost feels like he was waiting for me, but that can’t be right, right? I mean, that’s impossible.“
Luke doesn’t answer me. He just looks ahead, his lips pressed into a thin line. His muscles strain against the fabric of his shirt, his bicep stretching the fabric as he extends his arm. I see swirls of onyx black ink over his bronze skin. He doesn’t look like a priest from this angle, not while he’s driving and talking to me as if we’d just been on a date.
He looks like a golden god, dark hair and arched black brows framing an angular face. He’s a beautiful man. Such a shame he decided to be a fucking Catholic priest of all things.
“There are very few things in this world that are impossible,“ he says. “I’ve learned that. Can you tell me what’s similar about him?“
I nod. “Sure,“ I say. “So, before I met him–the doctor, I mean–I wasn’t really able to picture the man in my dreams. The only thing I could see was that he had a tattoo, and it was like, very similar to Misha’s.“
He glances at me for a second and I unfold my arm so I can show him. “Starts from his wrist,“ I say, sliding my hand up my pulse, toward my neck. “Ends right about here. It’s a thick black line. I think there’s writing on it, but I can’t see it well enough to see what it means.“
He nods. I watch his throat work as he swallows, his Adam’s apple moving as his jaw tenses. He’s clearly trying to hold back, but I want to see his reaction. I want to know how bad this is. I need to know how bad this is.
“Before I met him, I sort of knew that was what he looked like. But then after I met him, I knew that was exactly what he looked like. It didn’t make much sense before I met him, but then it did.“
“Did he have the same tattoo? When you met him in person.”
I close my eyes, trying my best to recall Dr. Malon O’Mara’s tattoo. I can remember his face; his green eyes, his smile, even the way he was sitting. But I don’t remember any ink on his skin, and that seems like something I would’ve noticed. “No,“ I say. “I don’t think he did.“
Luke nods.
“Talk to me, Father,“ I say. “What the fuck is happening?“
He sighs. “Well, I don’t want to alarm you,“ he says. “But I think the process might be further along than we originally thought.“
“What do you mean?“
“Not to put too fine a point on it, but if we don't do something now, then I think you're fucked.“
LUKE?
There's nothing in the world that concerns me more than Trine's well-being right now. There are many things I could tell her that would only concern her, so I'm trying my best to watch my language. I let myself slip and I shouldn't have done that. I can see the worry written all over Trine's pretty face, her jaw set as she swallows.
