Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
As usual with diabolical possession, I smelled the afflicted long before I saw them.
The afflicted stank.
Not like sweat or unwashed bodies. Worse. Decay and burning sulfur and something sweet underneath, fruit rotting in summer heat. My stomach rolled, and I had to breathe through my mouth as I finally stepped into the tiny back bedroom.
Mrs. Klein’s sister’s name was Iris, but there was nothing flower-like about the creature who stood against the far corner.
Her forehead was split open, apparently from where she’d been banging it into the wall.
Blood streamed down her face in a thick, smudged line, the same color as the smears on the faded wallpaper behind her.
She huffed in low, short breaths, clearly aware I was there, though she wouldn’t look directly at me.
Her hair was lank, the color of dirty snow, and her thin housedress was stained with food, sweat, and grime.
My gaze swiveled back to Mrs. Klein, as neat and carefully pressed as an old sheet, smelling of desperation and stale tea, and my question must have been obvious.
“She hasn’t let me near her in days.” Mrs. Klein’s smile was tremulous, apologetic. “It gets better. She’ll wake up.” She fluttered her hand. “She’ll wake up from this, and she’ll be fine. Or at least, she always used to wake up, come out of it. This time…” Her words trailed off.
“How long has it been this bad?”
The smile slipped a little. “Since I spoke with Rabbi Mordechai. Since he told me he would come.”
I nodded, a sliver of apprehension worming through me at what I was going to attempt alone. Still, I couldn’t back down now. Didn’t want to back down, I realized.
It was more than time.
Relief knifed through me. “Yeah, well. Don’t leave me hanging here,” I muttered, so softly Mrs. Klein couldn’t hear me, Iris couldn’t hear me. I could hardly hear myself…but someone could.
A soft, curling sigh drifted up within me, and I realized I’d never—not once—asked the voice within me for actual help before. I’d cursed it, tried to drown it out, damned it, begged it to leave. But I’d never asked it for assistance. Maybe that wasn’t allowed?
Too late now. And I needed all the help I could get.
I took a step toward Iris, and the woman seemed to snap to awareness, pressing herself against the wall.
“Aggie, get her away from me!”
Mrs. Klein jolted at her words, visibly shaken. “Iris?” she asked, and by the eagerness in her voice, I could tell that the sister probably hadn’t said anything intelligible in the past few days.
“Get her away, now. Please.” Iris lifted quavering fingers to smooth her hair back against her skull, as if that was all she needed to do to set herself to rights.
“I’m okay, Aggie, I just had a spell. You know how my spells are.
” Iris’s face tried to work its way into a smile, despite the line of blood trailing down her cheek.
“Iris, there’s nothing to worry about.” Mrs. Klein shifted forward, then faltered, her eyes flicking to me, as if checking for my approval before she continued toward her sister.
Instantly, I sensed the danger. “Mrs. Klein—”
“I said get her away!” Iris’s fingers had clamped onto her own head, twisting into her hair, pulling it out by the roots. Mrs. Klein stopped, paralyzed. New blood welled against her sister’s brow. “Now. Make her go now. She’ll hurt me.”
“She won’t, Iris,” Mrs. Klein tried again, her words desperate. “She’s trying to help.”
I began with the first psalm, the one Mordechai always started with, the one that flowed like a cool mist from his lips but sounded harsh and jangly coming from mine. “Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High, will rest in the shadow of El Shaddai—”
“Make her go-o-o-o.” Iris’s cry stretched out too long this time, and her fear was palpable, a living thing.
I didn’t stop my recitation. If anything, my words gained strength as I spoke them, even as my stomach twisted and rolled. “…Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence…”
“How can you do this to me?” Iris clenched her hands into fists and banged the wall behind her.
Surprise, rage, indignation, and horror all played over her face, its thin skin stretched to the point of translucence over bulging veins.
Her mouth gaped, displaying worn-down teeth and a pale, twisting tongue, trying to work up enough saliva to spit at me.
The first bug crawled out from her cracked lips.
I took another step toward the old woman.
As Mrs. Klein half-sobbed, Iris screamed something I couldn’t understand, then jerked against the wall as if I’d shoved her.
I tracked her movements, seeing and smelling and tasting her truth like I always did, even when I didn’t want to.
Beneath the spit and thrashing, I caught a flicker of what Iris once had been—a happy woman, a contented wife, comfortable and neat… and not alone.
“No,” the creature in front of me wailed now, spewing more bugs—fat ground beetles, earwigs, even a couple glossy roaches. Her eyes rolled back in her head so fast, I almost didn’t catch her glance as it raked across my face.
Almost. But not quite.
Got you.
I might have laughed if my stomach weren’t heaving. Fear churned through me at what would come next, but I’d done it. I’d seen the thing inside Iris. And it’d seen me too.
You’re so good at this, the voice whispered.
“Focus,” I thought back, but my pulse quickened anyway as the ghost of a laugh slipped through me, and for a second—just a second—I rode that pleasure, savoring it as I stared into Iris’s eyes.
“I see you,” I hissed.
The old woman spasmed, her stasis cracking with another slam of her head against the wall. Her scream became a howl of anguish. Then she tried to climb into the wall, scrabbling at its surface as her sister gasped. Apparently, this was a new experience for Mrs. Klein.
Not for me.
I stalked toward the creature hiding within Iris, certainty locking into place with each step.
The temperature dropped. Not gradually, but all at once, like someone had opened a freezer door. My breath misted in the suddenly frigid air. Behind me, Mrs. Klein whimpered.
The lightbulb overhead flickered. Once. Twice. In the stuttering light, I saw something jitter in Iris’s shadow. Something with too many angles, that didn’t match her movements.
“I see you,” I hissed.”
Anger licked and rattled through me, my inner voice howling with full-blown rage.
How dare you try to get away—how dare you? You know why I’m here. You all know, have always known. All of you know.
Iris’s gnarled fingers clawed at the faded wallpaper already shredded to tatters.
The place suddenly reeked like an outhouse, the stench overwhelming.
Mrs. Klein staggered back, retreating to the doorway of the room.
She gagged for air and retched loudly, desperate not to leave her sister but unable to come any closer.
I smiled, leaning forward into the rotted stench of Iris’s breath.
“Bring it, you bastard,” I muttered.
It was showtime.