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My plan is to tell her everything, but I don’t know where to start, and even Dom hesitates as we approach her room. The door is open, with gear already in the hallway, but Trine is sitting up on the bed, looking down at her phone, when we come in.
“Where’s Misha?” I ask.
She looks up at me and shrugs. “He went for a walk,” she says. “Said the vibe in here was suffocating.”
Dom looks at me for a second. I walk into Trine’s room, closing the door behind myself. “There’s something we need to talk to you about.”
Trine puts her phone down next to her, her brow furrowed. “Okay. Is everything okay?”
“Uh, hard to know,” Dom says. “This is a little strange. Have you felt anything weird while you’ve been here?”
“Weird how?” Trine asks.
“I don’t know, disturbances in sleep, nightmares, visions…”
She shrugs. “Nightmares are nothing new for me so I don’t really keep track of them. I haven’t had any visions or anything, but it hasn’t been easy to sleep here. I…uh, I don’t know, I’ve had this sinus headache since I got here. It’s probably nothing, but after everything that’s happened, it’s kind of hard to tell.”
“Can I try something?” Dom asks.
Trine raises her eyebrows. “Sure,” she says.
He takes something out of his pocket–it looks like a standard sharpie, but there are no markings on it–and grabs Trine’s hand. He presses the tip of the sharpie against the palm of her hand, leaving a black line on her skin, then grabs her so she can ball her hand into a fist.
“What is this?” she asks.
“It’s just a little something that might help,” he says. “We saw something today, something…weird and disturbing. I think it might end up targeting you. This is just a sigil, it might protect you.”
“A lot of ‘mights’ in that sentence, Dom,” I say.
He chuckles dryly. “Well, I don’t know if it will work. All I can do is try.”
“Right,” Trine says. I don’t say anything, I just keep watching as he takes the same knife he used to attack the creature and drives it into the palm of his hand. He wraps his fingers around Trine’s and I watch as the blood drips from his skin onto hers. Trine grimaces, but she doesn’t pull away. She looks up at him instead, her eyes narrow. “Did you tell Misha about this?”
“Not yet, but I’m sure he’ll find out,” I say. “Listen, Trine, we saw something. On the roof. That’s why it was important that we talk to you.”
“I’m not like, possessed anymore,” she says softly. “But Misha and the rest of the guys, well, they’re protective of me. They say I’m more likely to be receptive to things that aren’t there, and, well, Mal…you remember Mal, right, Alana?”
How could I forget? The hot ginger boyfriend. The one who might’ve been a demon. “Yes,” I say.
“Well, he thinks that they’re going to keep coming after me no matter what,” she says. “And that I can try and run away from them, but they’re going to find me, and when they do, I should be ready to fight them.”
“And what do you think, T?”
She shakes her head, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to defeat non corporeal beings, if that’s what they are. What difference does it make if I’m prepared if I can’t see the fucking things?” she says, trailing off slightly at the end. “When I was little, my dad insisted I needed to learn how to shoot. Now I wish I could ask him how a gun helps against a demon. But I can’t, because demons are real, but I still can’t talk to my parents, so that’s pretty cool.”
Trine sounds bitter, which surprises me. I know she’s been through a lot, but she’s seemed happy since she moved to Boston with her four boyfriends. She meets my gaze and grimaces. “Sorry,” she says. “I’m really tired. I promise I appreciate this.”
Dom moves away from her. “I’m going to go fill Misha in now,” he says. “Since he’s technically my client.”
I appreciate him letting us have some time. I sit down next to Trine as she unfurls her first. “This is gross,” she says.
I laugh. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be you.”
She shakes her hand off, little droplets of blood falling upon the floor and her jeans. “Do you think it’ll still protect me?”
“I have no idea,” I say. “Maybe if you lick it off?”
She glares at me, then laughs. “You’re gross.”
