Chapter 32 #2
“Oh—of course he is.” Max squeezed my hand, but there was nothing more I could do than squeeze it back.
Part of me was glad that Mr. Bell was on the premises.
Part of me rejected that as being anywhere close to a good idea.
There were too many people in the house, suddenly.
It felt as stuffed as Joe’s lake cottage, with nowhere for anyone to go.
“Well, c’mon, Delia!” Claire’s teasing voice floated back to me. She was already halfway across the broad lawn. “Geez, you’d think you never saw a horse before!”
I took a step toward her, disengaging Max’s hand—and Steve was right there. “I actually haven’t seen a horse in person before,” he said, his voice a little rough as he stared after Claire. “Isn’t that crazy?”
I couldn’t link my hand in his—that would be too weird. This was Steve. But I patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. “Let’s go be crazy together, then.”
The smile he sent me made my stomach burn in sudden, freezing panic. I welcomed that pain though, savored it. It made me feel human.
I needed to remember what that was like, hold on tight to it.
I needed to remember who I still was without him.
The thought sent a spike of something through me—not quite fear, not quite grief. Palemerious wasn’t dead. Exorcists didn’t kill. So he was just...gone. Ripped out. I’d thrown him out into the bright and endless day, and now I was alone in my own head for the first time in—
How long? When had he first slid into me, defiling me with his manipulation? How many years had he been my closest companion?
I shook the thought away. It didn’t matter. He was gone. I’d won.
So why did it feel like losing?
Aunt Emily didn’t come back that night.
At one point, Max called to make sure Mrs. Bell had left the lake cottage safely behind, but she was staying with her sister.
She didn’t like being alone when John wasn’t in the house.
There was no message from Emily, no indication of when she’d be back.
Mrs. Graham rolled her eyes, her face a little too tight, her smile a little too desperate.
Mr. Graham was in a good mood with her sister gone, however, and she wanted—desperately—to keep him that way.
I didn’t blame her. I’d seen the way her husband had looked at her, the gun between them on the bed. I’d want to keep him happy, too.
In the end, Max just shrugged. “She knows the way here. She’ll come back when she’s ready.”
Steve took a couch in the living room while Claire and I shared the guest bedroom with self-conscious awkwardness. Though Steve hadn’t seemed to care, neither of us had any intention of sleeping in one of the more open rooms, or even on the porch. A room with a door was the only viable option.
“So, it’s Sam, right? Sam’s the problem child here?” she asked.
I looked over at her. I felt worse than ever about her being here, but it wasn’t my fault, really. I’d wanted her to know where I was, that was all. I hadn’t invited her to come out here—or Steve, for that matter.
Of course, I hadn’t texted either of them to keep them at bay. So…maybe I had wanted someone here.
Either way, she needed to know the truth.
“Sam is part of it, yeah. But he’s not all of it.”
She went completely still, her gaze glued to my face. “The dad?” she whispered. “The dad seems wound tight. The house? Is the house bad too?”
“I don’t know,” I shook my head. “I’m not some kind of demon whisperer or anything. I wasn’t brought in during the discernment part. I just helped with the identification once Rabbi Mordechai had figured out there was a problem.”
Her eyes went wider. “But you could tell, right? You were in that lake cottage, and you said you just knew.”
My lips twisted in something close to a smile. “Well, a guy shot himself after living as a shut-in for seven years in that place. I had a few clues.”
“Jesus.” She held her hand to her neck, her fingers grasping the gold cross she wore around her neck. That made me feel unreasonably better. Not for my sake, but for hers. “So, right? It’s the dad as well?”
I sighed. “It’s—probably the dad. I wouldn’t trust the dad, anyway. But the mom doesn’t seem to have it altogether, either. And the grandma—I don’t know what to think about her.”
“Grandma Kate? No way.” Claire’s voice was firm, absolute, and I blinked at her. “That lady held onto Sam like she was worried he’d be ripped from her arms at any minute.”
“Yeah, well. Sam is clearly messed up.”
“You’re not going to make me believe that the grandmother is. She had a bible.”
I sighed. “She did. I’ve never been up to her room, though.”
“Well, duh: grandma. You don’t want any part of that.”
“I thought you were on her side.”
“I have a grandma of my own who lives with my parents. My mom’s mom. Trust me, you do not want to go into any old lady’s room. That’s totally daughter or daughter-in-law work, not granddaughter.” She looked around the space. “You think we should just…go to sleep?”
“Last time something happened, it was in the middle of the night. The mom and dad—well, they got into an argument. It wasn’t pretty, but it was loud. And that night, Max and I were out on the back porch.”
Her eyes popped wide. “You and Max—wait, what?”
Suddenly, a loud booming sound echoed through the room, like an airplane breaking the sound barrier or a bomb going off.
Claire screamed at the top of her lungs which drowned out any response I could have made, but while she curled up on the bed, yanking the covers, I threw them off, racing to the door.
“Where are you going?” she squeaked. “Don’t leave me!”
“What?” I turned around and saw her sitting in the bed, her eyes huge, her face white with fear. “Well, come on then. We have to go.”
“I can’t—” she began, but I waved that off.
“I got stabbed by flying knives already today and I’m still moving. If I can, you can.”
My shoulder screamed as I threw open the door, the half-healed wounds spitting fire. I tasted copper in the back of my throat but ignored it.
We raced into the hallway, and Steve was right there—fully dressed.
He never undressed when he slept, and the sight of him brought a strange, reassuring comfort that I completely didn’t deserve.
Another boom had rattled the house again, and Max shot up the corridor, rounding the bottom of the stairs. “Delia!”
“What the hell was that?” I demanded.
“Blunderbuss. I think it’s coming from the barn.”
“Blunder—are you insane? What the hell is a—”
“Stay inside.”
His dad was already halfway across the lawn when we got to the back porch, and Max took off after him. Claire, Steve, and I were right on their heels, though. With the only potentially sane people in the house on the outside of the building, I sure as hell didn’t want to be inside it.
John Bell was coming out of the barn, bounding toward us.
He carried an old-fashioned gun low and at his side, but he didn’t look like he was going to shoot it anymore.
He looked crazed, his hair standing on end, his jacket half pulled on over his T-shirt and jeans.
“Get back, boy!” he yelled, his gaze pitched skyward, and Max skidded to a stop.
“Sam—Sam, no!”
We whirled around. Mrs. Graham was leaning out a window, looking up, up—toward the grandma’s room. And then farther still.
“Holy Shit,” Max breathed. “Sam!”
Walking around the top of the house was the seven-year-old boy.
There wasn’t any sort of barrier on the roof, nothing to block someone’s fall, and we all froze—arms out, legs wide, as if we could possibly catch Sam when he eventually fell clean off the roof.
“How in the…how’d he even get up there?” Max gasped, his face ashy in the outdoor lights.
“Kate’s room,” Judith shouted. “There’s a door, but it’s always bolted. Always!”
Claire stood clutching her necklace, staring up at the spot where Sam stood. “It’s not like he’s even looking where he’s going. And where’s Grandma Kate?”
“The doors to the third floor are locked. I can’t break them down,” Mrs. Graham wailed. “Frank, do something.”
“Shit.” Mr. Graham stood pole-axed, watching his youngest son teeter on the edge of the roof.
“Fire department?” John Bell offered as he pulled his phone from his jeans pocket. “Police?”
“Whoever is closest.” Max broke out of his thrall first, pulling on his dad. “Ladder. We need to get the ladder.”
Claire, Steve, and I gravitated toward each other as Max and his father ran for the barn.
Phone to his ear, John Bell kept pace with Sam as he tottered on the top of the roof, as if he would somehow be able to catch the kid if he fell.
Something kept nagging at me, though. How was Sam even up there?
How in the world had he gotten past the grandmother, who was his staunchest protector?
The men were fast, bringing the ladder from the barn and setting it against the wall. It looked impossibly tall, and Mr. Graham moved to go up it only to have Max shove him aside. “Brace it!” he yelled, as Steve bolted forward to take the other side of the ladder.
I pushed Claire forward, too. “Help them.”
“Where are you going?”
But I was already heading out. I had to go at this a different way. There was no way that Mrs. Graham would take her attention off her son long enough to batter down her mother’s door. But I could. With the right props, anyway.
I took off for the barn.