Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ethan dialled the number on the pad of paper, knowing he didn’t have much time. He’d woken up an hour ago to a clear mind. Wherever Vinny was, he wasn’t resisting the pull toward the phone or blurring Ethan’s vision so he couldn’t read the code words and numbers.

A receptionist picked up on the first ring. “Hello, Samsara Health Clinic. My name is Amber. How can I assist you today?”

“Hi. I’m Ethan. And I need to schedule an abortion.”

“Hi Ethan. That’s not a problem.”

There was zero judgement in her voice. Ethan was relieved, especially as he began to answer her questions about his medical history and she didn’t find his trans timeline, or his deeper voice, odd. She asked for his last period, he told her five years ago, and they carried on trying to track down the date of conception without too much fuss. Before Jacob, there hadn’t been anyone else for a couple months. No one else could have gotten him pregnant.

“Sounds as if you are under our fifteen-week care period. You came to us just in time. Anything else, you’d have to find another doctor.”

“Well, that’s a relief. Something going right.” Ethan reeled. His head pounded. Panic returned. Oh, God. They’d wasted all this time on pleasantries and math stats when they should have scheduled a date and time before Vinny came back into focus. Ethan coughed and muffled his own voice.

“Ethan,” Amber said. “Are you okay? Are you calling from a safe place?”

“Not really.” Something inside him shifted. His insides turned to mulch. When he spoke again, a hint of decay bloomed on his tongue. “I’m a special case.”

“I’ve noted your trans status. I’ve pulled up your health card information through our system,” she said. “We’ve handled trans clients in the past, so we have doctors who understand.”

“No, no. The person who gave me the card said you handled different cases.” Ethan still couldn’t bring himself to utter supernatural. Amber not batting an eye at the trans status seemed surreal enough. He struggled to read the code words Jacob had written down for him to say. “I’m a…marigold? Marginal?”

“Oh.” She didn’t confirm or deny what word was correct, but she understood his meaning. Ethan swore she switched computers before typing again. “Okay, I’ve noted you require a doctor with specific training. You’re human, so is there another species we need to worry about?”

Ethan did his best to describe the situation to her. When Vinny spoke—cursing in Hindi, louder than Ethan realized or anticipated—her voice was visibly startled, but she didn’t hang up. She even recited some of the Latin phrases Ethan knew from his transportation. It didn’t exactly push Vinny out of his body, but he seemed cowed.

“How did you do that? He won’t move at all for me when I say those words.”

“Phone lines operate on a specific plane of magic. Incantations are always stronger over the phone, since it’s easy to close your eyes and diminish a conjurer in front of you, but you can’t close your ears. Voices become magnetized over the phone. Stronger than ever before. Now.” She said the words again, as if to ensure Vinny stayed gagged for the rest of the conversation. “We’ve made a note in your file about your condition. You can keep some spirits at bay during the procedure with a saltwater mixture.”

“Okay, that’s good.” Ethan had been drinking more and more saltwater since he remembered a line in the contract that forbade it. It made him feel even sicker than normal and made him drink twice as much water to counteract the dehydration effect, but it was something. From what he could gather from Amber’s instructions and all the strange occult books he’d seen in Aurora’s apartment, there was no real cure for this. Only a bunch of hodgepodge suggested methods of making the spirit release its hold. Ways to weaken it—like saltwater and Latin phrases over the telephone—but nothing could ever make it truly go if it didn’t desire the leaving.

“But if he’s attached to my, you know,” Ethan said, “and you remove it, he will go too, yes?”

“We’re hoping. There are risks, of course. Even without this added complication. Abortions do carry some minor health concerns,” Amber said. “We will have a package for you to sign when you get here, and someone will explain the procedure in more detail. Since this is a human foetus, though, I think you’ll be fine.”

Ethan swallowed. He hated thinking of it as anything more than an anchor object he was going to dispose of—even if that was sort of the case. It wasn’t human. But it was hard to not think of it as tearing away a piece of himself. Ethan pushed his thoughts aside, focusing on another brand-new medical package he’d have to review and sign. At least this would be off the books. He wouldn’t have to worry about Dr. Bergen’s office finding out, either through medical charts or the pregnancy showing up in his blood work in two weeks. It could be a random interval of his life, now done.

Jacob texted him an hour after he made the appointment. Tessa sent some information on how to cast out the spirit. But they’re all focused on destroying objects. Nothing on how to get rid of something or someone who’d already stayed inside too long. I’m sorry.

When Ethan didn’t respond, Jacob soon added, How are you doing?

I could be doing better. I’m leaving soon. I have an appointment for tomorrow at nine in the morning.

Ethan rose from the bed immediately after hitting Send. He picked out two sets of clothing, extra underwear, and socks, and added them to his backpack. He read about normal abortion procedures online at least a dozen times, piecing it together with what he’d already known through TV and Judy Blume-esque books. He would need someone to drive him there and back, but no one would do it, so instead he planned on taking the GO bus and train to Toronto and maybe bribe his sister to take him back—if she wasn’t busy. Maybe he’d get Aurora to take him back—if she wasn’t terrified of him. If both those options fell through, or if he just couldn’t bear telling anyone, then he’d pay an Uber driver the hefty fee and hope he got back home without being robbed or possessed again, knowing his luck. He wrote out a list of things he needed, drank another glass of saltwater without puking, and realized he had a message from Jacob.

At the place I gave you? You’re leaving already?

Ethan didn’t have the energy to type out the game plan, so he didn’t. He still wished Jacob would take him, but it seemed pointless and pathetic to beg again. Ethan finished packing his backpack, took a bus to the train station, and found the direct route to Toronto without issue. He’d kept music in his ears and his vision fixated on the multiple webpages he had open, oscillating between a supernatural site that was loaded with pop-ups and a pristine medical site about abortions. He’d also recorded his voice saying the Latin words and played them back. His voice sounded strained, warped. But it did the trick. He stayed focused, focused, focused until the bump of the Go train disrupted him.

He dropped his phone. Headphones came out of his ears. The voice recording stopped and deleted unexpectedly.

And Vinny got back inside his head.

“All right. I love trains. They always seem to arrive and never depart. Always on a journey, but never reach the destination. Like you,” Vinny said. “You’re not leaving. This is only the first stop of our time together. There will be no end.”