TWENTY-THREE

ONE LOOK AT RAY ANNE’S PAINED FROWN and I knew that of all the things I’d ever done that had disappointed or hurt her, I’d never wounded her like this. She’d given me no choice, but I still felt like a traitor. Like I’d betrayed my best friend.

The next two hours were a stressful mess as the four of us sat facing one another in the Greiners’ living room, Jackson rolling around on the carpet while Ray’s tearful parents asked one pointed question after another. Ray Anne kept downplaying things, trying to ease her parents’ concerns and keep them out of her business, which obligated me to recite things she’d said and done that pointed to a need for intervention—all while being careful not to slip up and mention any spirit-realm factors.

It felt like I was on the witness stand, testifying against my girlfriend. Ray Anne refused to look at me.

In the end, her parents insisted she move out of her garage apartment and back into her old bedroom in the house for now, where they could keep a closer eye on her. And Mrs. Greiner went online right then and made Ray Anne appointments with not one but two counselors. Tensions were high—so high that Creepers kept poking their hideous heads into the house and scoping out the scene, but none was willing to set foot in a den of Lights.

There was that tantalizing scent that always filled the air when the Greiners—a shackle-free family—were all together, but that wasn’t enough to lift Ray Anne’s mood, even a little.

Come to think of it, with her senses disabled, she couldn’t even smell it.

She finally looked in my general direction, and there was no disguising her scowl of contempt. I could only hope she saw the compassion on my face.

Mrs. Greiner said she wanted to be alone with her daughter, and about that time, Jackson started throwing a fit. I did something I never thought I’d do. I offered to take the playpen thing to the church and watch Jackson for the night—you know, to give Ray and her parents a break. Ray Anne didn’t like the idea of parting with him, but she might have felt differently had I told her that “Eva” threatened that Mother Punishment would be here soon, coming after him. And Ray wouldn’t be able to see her.

I’d been around Jackson a lot, but never babysat him—or any kid—in my entire life. I didn’t think Mrs. Greiner would trust me with the little guy overnight, but surprisingly, she welcomed it.

I followed Ray Anne into her apartment, and she gathered Jackson’s things in cold silence. It felt like I’d lost her—her trust, for sure—but if I hadn’t confided in her parents, I’d have run a greater risk of really losing her. Like, permanently.

“Don’t worry,” I told her. “Your parents love you. They’re doing what’s best for you.”

She ignored me.

I knew her parents really would do anything to protect their daughter, but I also understood they seriously underestimated the role spiritual forces played in a situation like this—not because they didn’t believe on some level, but they’d never witnessed it or seemed to ever take it in consideration in connection with their son’s suicide. Kind of like, out of sight, out of mind.

Ray Anne headed toward the door with Jackson’s belongings, but I stood in front of her, stopping her in the doorway. I wanted to tell her I loved her, once and for all, but the risk of rejection was at an all-time high. “I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

She stared back at me with heavy, hopeless blinks.

Seeing Ray Anne like this, so broken and crushed, was a bigger nightmare than the one I’d had where bats plunged down Molek’s throat and I was nearly choked to death by a possessed shadow. Worse than every other fearful thing I’d lived through. And I couldn’t fix it.

It was 11:00 p.m., way past Jackson’s bedtime. I did my best to give him a decent sponge bath in my bathroom sink, then I put him in his pj’s and set up his foldout crib in the corner of the room. It felt different being alone with him, like I was guarding Fort Knox all by myself.

At least the snake nest was gone from my room and nowhere near him. There was a strong chance the astral-projecting witches might show up outside again tonight, but they knew better than to barge into the building, much less my room. And if Mother Punishment came sailing through the walls, hunting for Jackson, I still trusted he was safe with me. The same all-powerful Name I’d seen restrain every force of evil that sought to harm me was sure to work on her, too. There was only one bizarre exception . . .

Nothing I’d said had driven away the invisible crying infant or the stalking presence from the sanctuary when they’d come to torment me. At least there was no sign of them at the moment.

Jackson started fussing, and I mixed formula in a bottle. I daydreamed again about what it would be like for Ray Anne and Jackson and me to pack up and flee Masonville. Turn our backs once and for all on this toxic, murderous town and do what was best for us for a change.

I gave Jackson his bottle, then walked around the room with him, patting his back, trying to get him to fall asleep the way I’d seen Ray and her mom do. Within minutes, his eyes drifted shut, but a slamming sound overhead woke him, followed by quick footsteps. Jackson had heard it, so I knew it was a material world intrusion. Finally an actual break-in?

I felt completely vulnerable with Jackson in my arms—like a squirrel forced to defend its young against a pit viper. And the only Masonville cop I trusted had been murdered.

In the seconds it took me to set Jackson in his playpen and grab my baseball bat, the prowler began stomping down the creaky third-floor steps, then the hallway, stopping outside my room.

I dropped to the floor and spotted two semicircular shadows looming in the gap beneath my door. I grabbed my cell, resigned to dialing 911, praying an emergency operator would answer right away.

I held my breath and kept silent, but Jackson started crying. There was no hiding now.

“I have a gun.” I announced my lie loud and clear.

Then came a knock. Not an aggressive pound, but a polite tap.

Seriously? “Uh . . . who is it?”

“It’s me. Gentry.”

I sighed long and loud, grateful it was only him, yet still taken aback. I opened the door. Gentry’s eyes were bloodshot, like he’d either been crying or getting high. He wore one of his signature hoodies, of course, and clutched a duffel bag. “My stepdad kicked me out. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

I was willing to invite him in, but first I wanted to know, “Did you break in upstairs?”

“I knocked and knocked on the front doors of the church but figured you couldn’t hear me. I walked around the back of the building and saw the open third-story window, and I mean, a tall ladder was right there.”

I didn’t recall an open window when I’d been in the storage room the night before, but it was possible, I guessed. “And you knew this was my room?”

“No.” He shrugged. “I thought maybe it led to another hallway or something and I’d find you eventually.”

I welcomed him inside, and he furrowed his brow when he saw Jackson fussing in his playpen.

“He’s not my kid.” I was super self-conscious that I was caring for a baby. “I’m just watching him for the night.”

A sense of self-loathing washed over me. Had I really just referred to Jackson like he was some random child I happened to be stuck with, just to save myself a little awkwardness?

I walked over and picked him up. Gentry closed the door to my room, then leaned against it. “Whose kid is he?”

“Dan and Jess’s son.”

“So . . .”

“Yeah, he’s the one Veronica kidnapped.” I went back to patting Jackson’s back and shushing him, feeling awkward again.

Gentry finally set his bag down, and the cuffs on the ends of all four of his chains clanked against the floor. He took a narrow-eyed, scrutinizing glance around my ugly room.

“I used to have a really cool apartment,” I said. “I’m just staying here to help out for a while.” Wow. My pride was relentless. “So what happened with your dad tonight?”

“Stepdad.” Gentry sat but stayed by the door, still feeling unwelcome, I think. “He accused me of stealing and pawning some of his tools, and no matter how many times I swore I hadn’t done it, he wouldn’t believe me. He called me a liar and told me to get my stuff and get out.”

Gentry had been accused of being a traitor and punched in the mouth, then called a liar and kicked out of his home, all in one day. “Dude, sounds like it’s been rough.”

He nodded. “You think I could crash on your floor tonight? I promise I’ll figure something else out tomorrow.”

I already had one houseguest, but that wasn’t why I was reluctant. Gentry was housing evil; I’d seen it in him this morning. I didn’t want him near Jackson while I slept.

“Ah, if it’s not cool with you, I mean, I can leave.”

I couldn’t exactly explain my hesitation, and it wasn’t like I could try casting the Creeper out of him. Gentry would have freaked, I’m sure. At the same time, he was safe here with me from the spiritual powers that were out to eliminate him. So, the only solution I could come up with was to commit to myself that I’d stay up all night and keep an eye on both Gentry and Jackson.

I gave Gentry a pillow and the only extra blanket I had. Meanwhile, Jackson was asleep again, so I laid him in his playpen. The smell of detergent on his pj’s was the same as Ray Anne’s clothes, and it made me really miss her. Surely she’d understand soon why I’d done what I did today. And she’d start winning the battle against her soul and be strong again. And still want to be with me and marry me someday in the gazebo by the lake.

Gentry spread the blanket out on the floor and sat on it. “My brother Lance said you’d changed and gone all psycho and stuff, but, I mean, you seem alright to me.”

I sat on the foot of my bed. “Unfortunately Lance and I didn’t see eye to eye on some things.”

“He said you claimed you could see messed-up stuff on people and scary creatures everywhere.”

It was basically an accurate description.

“Is it true?” Gentry probed. Unlike this morning, he was looking me in the eye. That repulsive mask of addiction faded in and out as my thoughts jumped all over the place, my compassion coming and going. “Can you really see stuff?” he asked me.

I’d never had a shackled person believe my paranormal accounts, but if he was at all open to the truth, it was worth the long shot . . .

“There’s a world that exists on top of our world, Gentry. And yes, I see it.”

I expected him to laugh and grow scales over his eyes. Instead he asked, “Something happened in the woods, and that’s when it started, right?”

Another detail Lance had obviously blabbed to him. But I didn’t want to make this about how I’d gained my powers, and I definitely didn’t want him knowing about the well on my property. God forbid curiosity get the best of him and he’d go serve himself a drink like Walt and Marshall had.

Okay, I’d served it to them. But I’d miraculously managed to forgive myself for the lethal outcome and vowed I’d never tell another soul about the well, much less where it was.

“Gentry, what matters is that there really is a fight between good and evil—a literal war—and you’re right in the middle of it. You and the others in your support group.”

Sure enough, those vile black scales I’d once seen on Jess and my mom began sliding up his eyeballs—a sickening manifestation of spiritual blindness.

I figured I’d shut up before his eye sockets became solid black, overtaken completely—a truly terrifying sight. But something else happened. About the most incredible thing I’d witnessed in a while, which was saying a lot.