Chapter 4 #4
Mack’s hands curled into fists, and I think he, too, already dreamed of punching her parents. “Let’s be frank. We’re here to do a home evaluation of your daughter’s environment and determine if it’s safe for her to live here. Your denial of her abilities is not winning you any points.”
“What do you mean, a home evaluation?!” Mrs. Fairchild demanded, voice going shrill. “Why would you take her?!”
“Because your neglect of her is abuse.”
The way their jaws dropped, like they were floored we’d accuse them of abuse, in turn surprised me.
“Gwyn told me flat out that the only time she’s gotten proper medical attention after being hurt was because the school called her an ambulance.
You’re not even addressing basic needs with your only child, and you’re surprised you’re being accused of neglect and abuse? ”
Neither of them could meet my eyes and made uncomfortable throat-clearing noises.
“On top of that, I’m also told you’re considering sending her in for an exorcism?”
At that, Mrs. Fairchild’s head snapped back up and she growled, “What else am I supposed to do? She’s clearly possessed or the devil’s in her ear! There’s no other explanation for this behavior of hers! We’re God-fearing people, we don’t welcome the occult in this house!”
I’d talked to brick walls before with better results. “And it didn’t occur to you maybe she really is psychic, that you should at least get her tested and rule the possibility out?”
“We don’t welcome the occult, I said! That includes any psychic behaviors!” She eyed Mack with disgust. “Charlatans, the lot of them.”
McNair was going to need to put me in cuffs in a minute, because if she made another dig at Mack, I was going to lose my temper.
“Well, your belief system is about to cost you your child,” Mack informed her flatly.
“You mean you’re going to take her away from us if we don’t agree she’s a Medium?”
“I mean, madame,” Mack said icily with murder in his eyes, “that if you refuse to support your daughter and give her the help she so desperately needs, then I cannot in good conscience leave her here.”
She stared back in growing fear, her eyes going to Gwyn, who refused to look at anyone. “But she’s not a Medium! She’s just hallucinating.”
And Mack’s patience hit zero. I admit, I wasn’t far behind him. “Gwyn, go pack. Two bags, whatever you can’t live without. Don’t worry so much about the clothes.”
She nodded and quickly left the couch, immediately darting to her room.
Mr. Fairchild went to stop her and I stood to block him immediately. “No.”
He got right in my face, so angry he was purple with it. “You cannot take my daughter like this!”
“Well, sir, which would you rather have? A daughter healthy and living, or one dead? Because at the rate things are going, I doubt she’ll survive to high school graduation.”
He stared at me, still breathing fire. “What the hell does that mean?”
“This town is overly haunted with very mean ghosts. She’s getting chased daily and you won’t even give her salt to defend herself. Did you really think she just tripped into a ravine?”
His gaze fell from mine, his face tinged with guilt but also mulish.
“But you can’t just take her!” Mrs. Fairchild wailed, her eyes pleading with us.
Mack glowered. “Let’s be clear. I have emotional and physical scars because of people like you. People who denied me training and safety, like you’re doing to your daughter now. I will not allow Gwyn to live through hell.”
Something about his words stopped her. Mrs. Fairchild stared at Mack, really looked at him, confusion sweeping over her face. “What do you mean, denied you training?”
“My mother kept me with her, much like you’re insisting on, when she knew damn well something was up with me.
In my case, my mother at least believed I was a Medium.
But because I was stuck at home, with no idea how to defend myself, I was in a constant battle.
Much like your daughter, I had no friends, I could barely catch four hours of uninterrupted sleep a night, I was constantly running from ghosts trying to hurt me—and there was no reason for it.
Except my mother’s stubbornness. Madame, whether you believe in ghosts or not is moot.
Your daughter is clearly struggling, and she clearly needs more help than you’re giving her. Why haven’t you gotten her help?”
She stared at him, affronted. “Well, I’m sorry if I didn’t get her to a priest before this! Or send her into a psych ward!”
What. The. Hell. That was her answer?
I rethought letting Gwyn have any contact with this woman. Either parent, really.
A piercing scream rang from the back of the house. I sprinted, pocketing my phone and drawing my rock salt pistol as I moved. Mack was right behind me—I could hear him moving.
When I reached the back bedroom, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. An energy was tearing through it like a tornado, swirling so fast it tore up everything—bedding, books, knickknacks, all of it. I couldn’t see the cause, but I could guess. Gwyn huddled in the corner with her hands over her head.
“Brandon, the gun,” Mack urged me.
I slapped it into his hand, and he took three quick shots into the room, the rock salt hitting something. The whirling abruptly stopped. Then the window exploded out as the entity fled. The silence in its wake was just as loud as the whirlwind before it, cut only by Gwyn’s sobs of terror.
I immediately checked Gwyn over, not seeing much. Just her hair mussed up, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You okay?”
She nodded, sniffling, but her hands latched on to my shirt.
Yeah, I didn’t blame her. Turning my head, I demanded of my fiancé, “What the hell was that?”
“That, mon cher,” he said grimly, “was a six. Gwyn, up you come. I cannot leave you here any longer, this place is too defenseless.”
I pulled Gwyn up, keeping her tucked under my arm. Her parents stared into the room as if they couldn’t believe what their eyes saw. McNabb looked grim.
“The two suitcases,” Gwyn whispered, pointing at two purple hardcases lying on their sides.
Oh, she’d packed already? She must have just thrown things in. I nodded, handing her off to Mack, and grabbed them. Heavy, as expected of a teenage girl.
“Wait,” Mr. Fairchild demanded. “Wait, you can’t just take her and leave. I don’t understand what’s going on! What the hell happened in here?”
I tried to be patient—in his shoes, I’d be putting up a whale of a fight too. “That, sir, was an entity. A ghost who went on a rampage. Your daughter’s untrained power is attracting the wrong type of attention right now. It’s why we can’t leave her here.”
Her mother scoffed. “Oh, she did this. She threw things around to make it look like a ghost tore up her room. She’s done it before.”
“You and I both saw things being thrown around with Gwyn huddled in a corner,” Mack snapped. “That’s some trick for her to pull off. Not to mention, how do you explain the window breaking outward when no one threw anything at it?”
She stared at the window, and you could see the barest flicker of curiosity, like she realized he was right and she had no explanation.
And still, neither parent looked to see if their daughter was hurt. Scared. Nothing. God, no wonder she had latched on to Mack and me so fiercely. The first adults to not only believe her but prioritize her safety. It made me all the more determined to protect her from here on out.
“No, she’s just figured out some trick. Likely from the internet.
” Mr. Fairchild’s mind closed off again immediately.
I could physically see it happen on his face.
“I told you, she’s not a Medium. She’s a teenage girl who wants to be special, that’s all this is.
Gwyn, what did you do in here to create the whirlwind?
Don’t you understand what kind of trouble you’re bringing down on our heads by acting like this? ”
Where was Don when I need him? I needed his patience. I struggled with the urge to restrict Fairchild’s airway.
I sighed. Can’t punch people, me. Be an adult. “McNabb?”
“Yup.” He took hold of both parents and pulled them away from the door, clearing us a path. “Come this way, Fairchilds.”
I seriously owed him a beer. I carried the suitcases as we walked out of the damaged room. We beelined for the door, letting McNabb handle the upset parents. Gwyn wouldn’t even look at them or say goodbye as she marched through the front door.
Did it count as neglect if you ignored a child’s desperate plea for help? I thought so. I had issues with Mack’s mother, but at least Adelle had believed her son. And gotten him help, eventually. These parents would never do so.
Both parents called after Gwyn desperately. I was in no mood to linger and make it easy for them to kick up a fuss. Mack loaded Gwyn into the back, climbing in with her. I threw both suitcases into the trunk before getting into the driver’s seat.
McNabb lost control over Mr. Fairchild and he sprinted out the door, pounding his fists on the window next to where Gwyn sat. “Gwyn! Gwyn, get the hell out of that car, now! What are you playing at? Why are you doing this to us?”
Gwyn rolled down the window a few inches.
Her voice was firm as she spoke, no waver in her words.
“If I stay with you anymore, I’ll wind up dead, and you’ll blame it on my klutziness.
I love you, Dad, but I can’t live with you anymore.
I’m tired of you acting like I’m a liar when it’s you who can’t see the truth. Let’s go, Brandon.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She had spunk, this kid. And her parents were going to grovel a lot when they finally did come around. It might take twenty years for it to happen, with the way their minds were closed, but I looked forward to the day.
I put the car in reverse, not too bothered if I accidentally ran over his foot.
Unfortunately, he backed off a pace, still yelling, desperately trying to get me to stop.
I didn’t. I put the pedal to the metal as soon as I was in the street and got as much distance between us as I could. Definitely needed to switch hotels.
“Ma petite, how are you?” Mack asked gently.
Gwyn sat on his question a few seconds before answering in a soft voice.
“I don’t know. I thought if two FBI agents told them about me, they’d finally believe me.
I’ve been treated like a liar my entire life, and that burned, but I thought with you and Brandon telling them, they’d finally admit they were wrong.
They’d stop acting like this. Why couldn’t they believe you? ”
Poor kid. My heart broke all over again. Tears streamed down her cheeks unchecked. This had to feel like a hot poker to the heart. Mack wrapped her up in his arms, hugging her, and I saw her lean against him.
“Some people can’t admit when they’re wrong. And sometimes people hold so tightly to convictions, they can’t see anything else.”
She didn’t say anything in response.
“Mon cher, I’ll call Sylvia and report in.”
“Okay.” Something we definitely needed to do. “I’ve got the footage on my phone…which is still running, come to think of it. Stop the recording and send it to her, would you?”
“Sure. I’ll request a new hotel while I’m at it.”
Probably the safer bet. The hotel rooms were kinda small, the bathrooms more so, so I was okay with moving somewhere larger.
“Mack?” Gwyn snuffled. “When you talk to your boss, tell her I don’t want to speak with my parents for a while.”
And who could blame her?