Standing in the cool darkness outside of Billy’s home, the image of Billy’s final horror-struck expression lodged in Lassi’s mind like a splinter. She longed to take a blow torch to the horrible death memory, obliterating it from her mind. Sighing, she reached up to massage her temples. When she lowered her arms, she bumped her elbow against the side mirror of the Skoda, hitting her not-so-funny funny bone.
She rubbed it, muttering, “Fecking car. Fecking boyfriend. And fecking Ballynagaul.”
Hot tears pricked against her eyes.
Bres stood next to her, staring vacantly at the dark harbor, his arms crossed over his chest.
The boats creaked and shifted in the wind. Lights from some of the vessels danced along the water. A clang, clang, clang from a bell buoy marked time. The wind whistled through the masts of some of the ocean craft. The air smelled of fish, seaweed, creosote, and engine oil.
Lassi’s eyes sought the lit window of Billy’s house. Absentmindedly, she picked at the sleeve of her woolen jumper which poked out the edges of her raincoat.
Cillian was inside the house, performing whatever priestly tricks he knew to guide Billy to the afterlife. And he was pissed at her.
So, she stood moored to Billy’s driveway, her legs heavy with guilt and shame for having dragged him away from here to go look at a closet full of spider webs.
“How did it happen?” she asked Bres in a shaky voice. “The end of Billy, I mean. Cillian and I weren’t gone that long. He didn’t appear to be that close to death when we left.”
Bres startled out of his reverie. He shuddered, turning so his soulful eyes could meet hers. “He seemed somewhat stable, you’re right. But minutes after you left, he started screaming, moaning, and mumbling something about ‘make it stop. Make it go away.’ It all happened too fast. I called you as soon as I could.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. When he looked up, his eyes were moist with tears. “And his face…I’ve never seen such a look of absolute terror. I doubt I’ll get it out of my mind anytime soon.”
“I understand. Billy’s freaking final expression is haunting me, too.” She leaned closer, letting her arm lean against his.
Bres blew out a long, deep breath, nudging her with his shoulder. “Well. I’d best arrange for transport to the morgue.” He pushed away from the car and retrieved his phone from his coat pocket. Then, he stepped away from her to make the call.
Cillian emerged from the house.
She straightened, watching him carefully to try and discern what kind of mood he brought with him.
He strode toward Bres and said something. Then he headed toward her. As he approached, his dark expression said everything.
“Let’s go,” he barked.
She shoved away from the side of the Skoda, plastering a placating smile on her face. “Where to?”
“You said Siobhan is at the Conway’s, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.” Lassi fished for her car keys in her jacket.
“Then that’s where we’ll head next.” He gave the locked door handle of the Skoda a few impatient tugs. “Bres can take care of the rest of Billy’s needs.”
She quickly pressed the unlock button, not remembering locking it in the first place.
He opened the door and slid in, back to his simmering, stone-faced self.
She entered the other side of the vehicle, powered it up, and drove toward the Conways’ home, not interested in trying to force him out of his fugue.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “I did what I could. Even his spirit was terrified. I couldn’t find him at first.” His voice cracked. “He was running, running, trying to escape whatever hunted him.”
“Hunted him?” Lassi trembled.
“I’m afraid so,” Cillian said. Then, he slipped back into his moody silence.
A few minutes later, they pulled up to the Conway house. They exited the car and tromped toward the front step, as distant as two countries with hundreds of miles separating their shores.
All the lights were still on in the house.
Lassi knocked.
Mary answered, looking far less frantic than she had a short time ago. “Oh, good. You’re here.” She smiled warmly. “And Cillian.”
“Mary,” he said, nodding grimly.
Mary’s gaze slid toward Lassi.
She gave a subtle shake of her head.
Mary stepped aside for them to enter.
Cillian strode past her like a zombie.
Lassi followed.
Siobhan sat in the front room, nursing a cup of tea. The quilt lay tucked around her legs. She, too, appeared much calmer.
“Hello, Lassi. Cillian.” She smiled in a weird sort of too-many-anti-depressants kind of way.
“You look better,” Lassi said, stepping toward her, frowning slightly. She perched on one of the recliners.
“I mixed up a mood-enhancement herbal formula,” Mary said. She beamed and settled into one of the armchairs. “It seems to be doing the trick.”
Lassi gave Cillian a side-eye. “Can it work for anyone? I might need that formula.”
Cillian ignored her. Instead, he flashed Siobhan a reassuring smile, crossing the room to sit by her side.
“How are you, Siobhan?” he said with practiced, priestly ease.
“I’m okay,” she said.
“Lassi and I went over to your house earlier,” he said, inclining his head in Lassi’s direction.
At least he knows where I am.
“You did?” Her face brightened.
“Yes.” He reached for her free hand and captured it between his hands. “We saw the cobwebs but not the spiders.”
“There were dead ones,” Lassi interjected.
Cillian grimaced but didn’t look at her. He kept a steady, reassuring gaze trained on Siobhan. “Right, there were a few dead ones but nothing alive.” He paused as if sorting his thoughts before speaking. “And we saw the shadows, too. I don’t know what’s causing them, however. I could try a generic blessing of the house, but I don’t feel that would work.”
“What about an exorcism?” Lassi asked.
Cillian stiffened like she’d stuck a rod up his anus.
What, do you think I’m just going to stay mute this whole time while you talk? Lassi pressed her lips together and imagined shooting darts from her eyes at the side of his head.
“An exorcism wouldn’t help either,” he said. “It doesn’t feel like demonic possession. There's no ‘intelligence’ to it, per se, and no other evidence leading me to believe it’s a demon at work. Besides, demons possess people, not structures.”
Siobhan sipped her tea, her eyes glazed with her strange herb-induced calm. When she lowered her cup, she said, “So what can we do? I need to be able to walk in the door to my house and not be scared out of my wits.”
Ryan entered the room, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. “I can help. Maybe I can dig up some records of your house, Siobhan. I can check with the courthouse.”
“I’ve lived here nearly three hundred years, Ryan,” Cillian said. “You think I’d know if something was amiss in that building.”
Ryan’s face flushed. “Well, Cillian, you’re right about that. You have life experience and all. But the house was here before you were first…conceived. Er, when you were alive in the 1700s.” He lifted his mug to his lips and took a long, slurping sip. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Just because I know what you are and how old you are doesn’t make it easy to speak in a normal conversation. And records have been kept on Ballynagaul for a long time. All I’m saying is you never know.”
Cillian nodded. “You’re right, Ryan. It’s worth a shot. I’m not thinking clearly tonight.”
Ryan nodded, beaming. “I don’t think any of us are.”
Cillian’s shoulders rose and fell, powered by a long sigh.
Lassi longed to comfort him. Either that or rip the clerical collar from his neck and bang his bones until he couldn’t speak a full sentence.
Siobhan’s hands abruptly flew to her head.
“Oh!” she exclaimed.
“What is it?” Lassi said, slipping into nurse mode. She shoved away from the recliner and hurried to Siobhan’s side.
“This ghastly headache. It’s been threatening me all day. It suddenly got worse. And my ears are ringing something fierce.” Siobhan smashed her ears with her palms. “Uh! Make it go away.” She began rocking back and forth. “Oh, this is awful. This sound…it’s like a haunting lullaby.” Her eyes looked like vacant pits. She trembled, staring at Lassi from some fathomless depth. “No, it’s like a keening…a wicked wailing. It’s horrible. Make it stop.”
“Cillian, get my medic kit out of the car, would you please?” Lassi said, crouching in front of Siobhan.
He leaped to his feet and hustled toward the front door. A startled exclamation came from his mouth. “Oh! Hello, Bres,” he said from the hallway. “Everyone’s in the front room. I was just going to get Lassi’s kit.”
“For?” Bres said.
“Siobhan.”
“I’ve got my bag. Save yourself the trip.” Bres made haste into the room, medical bag in tow. He slid past Ryan and went to Siobhan’s side. “What is it, sweetheart? What’s the matter?”
“My head. This headache is splitting me apart. And there’s a ringing in my ears, clanging like ethereal church bells.” Gritting her teeth, she slapped at her ears. “Make it disappear.”
“Easy, Siobhan. I’ve got you.” Bres grabbed her wrist.
“Maybe it’s Paul,” Siobhan wailed. “Maybe my wee Paul is trying to contact me. What if he’s not okay? What if he’s taken a turn for the worse?” Her eyes took on that same crazy haunted look from earlier. She started to bolt to her feet.
“It’s not Paul,” Bres soothed, blocking her from getting up. “I called the hospital on the way over here. He’s fine.”
“But what if he wakes up and misses his mama?” Siobhan cried. “And I’m not there to comfort him.” Violent shakes tossed her head back and forth, flicking tears from her eyes. “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.”
“I’ll head over to see him,” Lassi offered, wondering how in the stars she’d be able to stay awake.
Ryan and Mary stood ill at ease in the doorway.
“Lassi, no. You need sleep,” Cillian said.
“I’m fine,” Lassi said. “Who else can go? You? You never learned to drive. And, Mary and Ryan need to rest.” Her gaze skipped to her two tired friends.
“Lassi, prepare an injection of Clonazepam, would you, please?” Bres said.
“Right away.” She retrieved the locked box of medicines he kept in his kit. “Ryan, get me a glass of water from the kitchen. Let’s make sure Siobhan is hydrated.”
“Coming right up,” he said, scurrying away.
“She’s already got a potent relaxation draught in her system,” Mary said, wringing her hands.
“What kind?” Bres asked. He rummaged around in his medical kit and pulled out a pair of purple nitrile gloves. After pulling them on, he retrieved his blood pressure cuff and stethoscope.
“It’s my Moon Dust formula. You know the one.” Mary’s voice shook as she spoke.
“I do.” Bres grew thoughtful while affixing the cuff to Siobhan’s arm.
Siobhan continued to whimper.
“Well?” Lassi said. “Yes, or no?”
“One sec.” Bres fit the ear tips into his ears and positioned the diaphragm of the stethoscope at the soft inner skin of Siobhan’s elbow. He pumped up the cuff, then manipulated the air release valve. After he removed the ear tips, he nodded. “Go ahead,” he answered. He turned to Siobhan and said, “This will ease the pain.”
“Okay,” Siobhan said, through gritted teeth, tears lingering at the corners of her eyes.
Lassi donned nitrile gloves, unlocked the box, and fished out a vial of Clonazepam. She peeled the wrapper from a sterile syringe and filled it with the clear liquid. Then, she handed an alcohol wipe to Bres and held the syringe at the ready.
Siobhan jerked backward and squeezed her forehead between her palms. She let out an eerie, high-pitched wail.
Gooseflesh peppered Lassi’s arms, accompanied by a shudder. Siobhan’s wail sounded like it slithered from the pit of Satan.
“You’re going to be okay, Siobhan,” Bres said, his face suddenly pale. He gripped her arm and swiped the skin clean with the wipe.
Ryan hustled into the room with a water bottle. He twisted off the cap and handed it to Bres. “Here you are.”
“One minute, Ryan,” Bres said.
Lassi extended the syringe toward Bres.
“Here, Siobhan. This will take the pain away,” he said. “You’ll feel a little prick.” He jabbed her arm with the needle.
She winced. Within minutes, her eyelids began to flutter.
“What did you give me? I’ve got to go check on Paulie,” she said, in a dreamy voice. Her head fell back against the sofa.
While Mary tucked the quilt over Siobhan, and Ryan handed her the water, Lassi gathered her belongings and crept from the room, not giving Cillian another glance. Her only thought was to get as far away from him as she could. Waterford City hospital, here I come. And, please let Paul be all right.