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At first, it’s just whatever black liquid was inside of her, until there are tears in her eyes and she’s practically choking on her own vomit, which looks…vomit colored.
I’ve never been this glad to see someone puke in my entire life.
She looks like she’s about to faint when Misha and I grab her again. “Is it done?” Misha asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Trine?”
She looks exhausted. Her eyes flutter open, but they don’t remain open. She passes out again.
I make the sign of the cross over her forehead, wet with holy water and salt, and she doesn’t react.
“I think so,” I say. “We’ll need to keep an eye on her, obviously, but…I have faith it worked this time.”
Misha nods, his gaze darting toward Malon. “It’s because of the demon getting out of the way,” he says. “Isn’t it?”
I nod. “Maybe,” I say. “But I think he might not be a demon anymore.”
Misha shakes his head. “We can talk about that later,” he says. “Let’s go clean her up.”
“I need to bless every attendee here,” I say. “Then we can clean her up.”
He smiles at me. “Do what you need to do, Father,” he says, his eyes on Trine’s profile. She looks terrible, but there’s nothing but relief in his eyes. “I think we have time for that now.”
REI
Everyone’s fine.
Well, everyone’s vitals are fine, I don’t know if everyone is fine. I’m pretty shaken. After what we just saw, I think we’re all going to need some therapy. Once we’re done licking our wounds, obviously.
Malon and Trine are both in the same room now. It’s the one Trine was staying at the night before. She’s on the bed, wearing fresh clothes. Her hair is down and on the pillow behind her. She’s lying on her side, her eyes closed. She’s breathing slowly, deeply. She needs a lot of rest so I don’t want to disturb her. I don’t know what’s going to happen after this, but this feels right. Letting her rest feels right.
Malon is on the sofa next to the windows, his legs hanging off it. He also looks exhausted, but something has changed. I have no idea what it is. It’s hard to tell.
Luke walks into the room, no longer wearing his priest garb. He’s just wearing jeans and a t-shirt and he smells like aftershave. “I just blessed the house,” he says. “Alana is getting some rest. She’s pretty shaken up.”
“Misha?”
“Shower,” he says. “He needed it.”
“Yeah, we all look like shit,” I say.
He laughs. “How are they doing?”
“Okay,” I say. “I have a feeling they’re going to sleep for hours.”
“Ugh. I wish I could sleep for hours.”
“Same,” I say.
He sighs. “How are you doing? How’s your cheek?”
“Fine,” I reply. “All things considered. Got lucky I didn’t need stitches. I think we all did.”
He laughs. Considering how bad the fight was, I’m surprised he seems to be practically entirely unscathed. He’s always been good at dodging punches. “What happens now?” he asks in a whisper. “Like, now that she doesn’t need us anymore. Do we just leave?”
I don’t want to just leave, but if it’s what we have to do, then it’s what we have to do. The very thought of it makes me feel a little sick to my stomach. “I guess we have to wait until she’s awake,” she says. “Then we can ask her.”
I guess that makes sense. I don’t want to leave her, I want to stay here and watch over her until I’m absolutely certain that she’s okay. Until I know for sure that she won’t need us.
