Chapter 24
Outside, the fog grows thicker as afternoon spills into evening. Inside Saskia’s dorm, Mallory covers the floor with pieces of history.
She stands, dressed in a tank top and shorts borrowed from Saskia’s drawer, and surveys her work.
Rebecca’s letters are in one corner, her family’s obituaries in another.
The rest of the rug is littered with printed articles about the Vampire Panic, library books about hauntings, and jagged edges of notebook paper containing fragmented thoughts.
Saskia sits in the center of the chaos, cheeks flushed and lips bruised.
“There’s too much here,” she grumbles. “That historical society meeting is days away and we’re no closer to answers. I stabbed myself! You’re craving blood!” She drags a hand through her hair. “What are we going to do?”
Mallory kneels beside her. “Let’s start at the beginning. Lily died in 1890 and was buried in the cemetery beneath the gardens. Her grave was exhumed afterward, and her heart was cut out by a man named Jacob.”
Saskia leans back on her hands. “Her heart was offered to…something. She pretty much confirmed it in the prop loft.”
“Something she’s still afraid of,” Mallory adds. “It was with us in the loft, almost like it’s attached to her. But it isn’t another spirit. Lily said it was something worse.”
Mallory scoops up a library book. She thumbs the pages until she reaches the section she’s looking for, labeled “Types of Hauntings.” Saskia leans over, reading along.
“Residual hauntings, intelligent hauntings, poltergeists…” Saskia shakes her head. “None of these are right, because they’re all spirits. We need to think beyond—”
Her words dissipate as Mallory flips to a section titled “Demonic Entities.” They exchange a glance before bending again to read.
“Look.” Mallory points. “ ‘Throughout history, there have been people who have worshipped demons, providing gifts in exchange for favors, or summoning them through evocations and macabre offerings.’ ” She pauses, thinking of the raging bonfire she’s seen in her dream, the cloaked men huddled around it.
“That has to be it,” she says. “Lily’s heart wasn’t fully burned.
Maybe it was never even burned at all. It was given to a demon. And it hasn’t left her alone since.”
“I think you’re onto something,” Saskia says, tilting the book. “It says if a demonic entity is successfully conjured, it can linger in our world for years—centuries, even.” She glances up. “But ultimately needs a human host to thrive. And it can change hosts over time.”
“A host.” Mallory frowns, thinking of Ezra recounting that case from Germany, the woman who underwent sixty-seven exorcisms before she died. “Can I see that?”
She takes the book from Saskia, flipping to a section labeled “Demonic Possession.” A coldness spreads through her body at the words, and she swallows.
“ ‘According to some demonologists,’ ” Mallory reads, “ ‘possession is not always immediate. A demon can only gain entry to a human’s body after invading their living space and wearing them down psychologically. Signs of demonic infestation include cold patches, foul odors, electrical malfunctions or stopped clocks, invasive banging in groups of three…’ ” She falls silent.
Once demonic infestation is underway, it becomes challenging to evade the entity without intervention.
Most demonic entities cannot be destroyed, only weakened with certain objects like silver, iron, holy water, or holy wood.
In some cases, demonic possession is inevitable. In many, it is fatal.
Mallory absorbs the words. She brushes the bite marks on her neck and admits in a whisper: “This is exactly what Ezra’s room is like.”
Saskia studies her. “I don’t understand. What does this have to do with Lily?”
“Lily’s heart was supposed to be burned because it still had blood in it,” Mallory says, voice shaking.
“That was the so-called sign of vampirism, even though there’s a scientific explanation, like that pastor said.
Jacob capitalized on people’s fear of infection so he could offer her heart instead to a demonic entity. Her bloody heart.”
“Right…”
Mallory closes the book and turns to Saskia.
“The demon that received Lily’s heart must be the same creature that spoke to you earlier.
The same one that’s been using Ezra’s body as a vessel.
It broke him down. It possessed him.” She swallows.
“I saw it. I felt it. It’s not a vampire, but it feeds on blood.
Lily’s blood—my family’s blood. And maybe because it hasn’t gotten mine yet, it’s trying to wear me down in some way, too, messing with my head, poisoning me. ”
Saskia’s eyes widen, understanding. “Holy shit.”
But the hypothesis doesn’t feel satisfying. Instead, guilt churns inside her. Mallory suddenly imagines Ezra as a boy, poring over documented cases of possession, not knowing that the ideas that once brought him comfort would one day read like a narrative of his own undoing.
“What if it’s my fault?” she whispers.
Saskia frowns. “What do you mean?”
“This demonic creature—it wants me,” she says. “Because I’m from Lily’s bloodline. What if it’s been using Ezra to get to me? What if, all this time, I thought Ezra was some kind of monster, when he isn’t one at all?”
“Mal.” Saskia leans forward. “Ezra isn’t innocent in this. You said so yourself. He attacked you.”
“But maybe it wasn’t him.”
“You said he held you down. That he bit you. Infected you.”
“He and the demon may not be one and the same.”
Saskia’s eyes bulge. “Does it matter? He drank your blood! While you begged him to stop! And lied to you about all of this. That sounds pretty demonic to me.”
“He wasn’t—”
“Why are you defending him?” Saskia snaps. Something darkens in her eyes. “Are you still in love with him?”
“No.” Mallory shakes her head firmly. “Sas. I never was.”
Saskia sits back against the bed, blowing hair from her face. She grabs the blue teddy bear that she tossed to the floor earlier, hugging it against her chest.
“It was a lot easier to talk about Ezra before I knew what it was like to”—Saskia gestures between them, searching for an expression—“be with you.” She huffs a small laugh.
“Just a few days ago, I was terrified of you. Was convinced you were a ghost. Now I’m down so bad, I’m acting like a jealous girlfriend. ”
“Saskia…” Mallory picks at a stray flake of black nail polish.
“What Ezra and I had was momentary. Fleeting. Like a star that got too bright for its own good and had to die out. It was magic and then, very quickly, it wasn’t.
” She leans forward. “All I’ve ever wanted is for someone to see me, to know me.
But I realized recently that knowing—even acceptance—isn’t enough.
I also need safety and honesty. You give me that.
He didn’t. He lied to me, every day, from the moment we met.
Repeatedly put me in danger, possessed or otherwise, simply because it served his needs.
But you…” Her voice softens. “What I thought I had with Ezra, I actually have with you. I’m not just safe with you, we’re safe together. We’ll take care of each other.”
“How can you be sure?” Saskia studies her. “How do you know this isn’t fleeting, too?”
Mallory holds Saskia’s stare, daring to snake a hand over hers. “I guess there’s no way to know for certain.” She laces their fingers. “But I want to find out.”
“Even if it ends?” Saskia asks softly, and Mallory feels a small twinge in her chest. She doesn’t want to give weight to the possibility that Saskia could be etched in past tense one day.
Doesn’t want to confront the memory of Saskia’s bloodstained shirt and faraway gaze, the way it seemed she was ready to leave the world just as it started to light up for them both.
“Even if it ends,” Mallory echoes, squeezing her hand.
Saskia leans in, kissing her softly, searching. This time, their kiss isn’t laced with urgent hunger, but something quieter. Resolute. An agreement to step into another unknown together. To hold on to the moments that feel like magic, even if they’re temporary.
Maybe this is the bargain you make when you let yourself be seen.
“Can I tell you something?” Mallory asks, tracing the intersecting arrows of Saskia’s tattoo. “Something I’ve never said out loud to anyone?”
Saskia nods, and Mallory sucks in a breath.
“Somewhere, inside myself, I’ve always known I’m—”
Mallory pauses, tasting the word.
“Bisexual,” she continues, letting it fall into the air, syllables curling around her teeth, feeling right.
“There were girls in high school—I couldn’t tell if I wanted to be them or be with them.
But looking back, it was a crush. The same way I’d get crushes on boys.
Sometimes, it felt like I had to choose.
Like I was half this and half that. But that’s not right, either.
It’s not a fraction or something you can divide up into pieces.
It’s just me.” Mallory shakes her head. “I don’t know why I couldn’t say that until now. ”
Saskia stares at her for a moment before brushing a soft kiss to her cheekbone.
“It’s hard to find the right words,” she says.
“It took me a while, too. For a time, it felt freeing to have no label. And then, claiming one felt even better.” She rests her head against the mattress behind her.
“But truthfully, coming out isn’t necessarily something you do once and then take a sigh of relief.
I mean, I’ve had to do it over and over.
It’s like you’re defaulted to being straight until you say otherwise, which is such bullshit.
Sometimes I just want to be like, ‘Hey, I’m Saskia, and I’m a lesbian,’ to everyone I meet.
Just so they see me right away, you know?
” She huffs a sigh. “But…not everyone is accepting. People can be shitty—and sometimes those shitty people are in your own family.”
Mallory tips her head. “What do you mean?”