"Is she lost?" He knew all about wandering spirits. I trained him young, so he wouldn't be frightened of his abilities as he grew up. "I think she might be."
"Lost? No. I don't think so. But she has a problem that wasn't cleared up before she died, and she wants my help. Trouble is, I don't know if I can help her. That's all you need to know for now, kiddo. But we'll do something to keep her out of your room."
He hesitated as if there was something more he wanted to say.
"What is it? Is there something else I should know?" I waited, but after a few seconds he shook his head. The poor kid was probably scared out of his wits but didn't want to admit it. I grabbed my robe and, Kip's hand safely tucked into mine, we went to inspect his room.
Like all boys his age, his room existed in a perpetual state of disarray. I ignored the mess. Later I'd remind him that clutter attracted chaos. He let go of my hand and sat on the foot of the bed as I took three deep breaths and lowered myself into a trance, searching with the vague feelers and wisps that were my antennae.
My mind began to drift—lighter and lighter, until it felt like I was standing at the top of a cliff. Then—one long dive, down past the blur of lost sleep, through the confusion with Andrew, through worry and stress, deep into the corners of my mind—which at this point felt like the pit of my stomach. After a few minutes, a swirl of mist surrounded me that indicated I had managed to find a doorway into the energy, a kaleidoscope vortex into which I plunged and soared upward—Icarus rising like mercury on a dog day and then… I opened my eyes.
B-I-N-G-O.
There she was. Susan Mitchell. Standing by the bottom of my son's bed with a luminescent smile on her face. As I watched, a shadow rose up behind her, and I caught the merest whiff of jackal bites and crocodile smiles. Susan turned, pulling back when she saw what was there. I decided that if she was making tracks, so would we. I started to back up, pushing Kip behind me, but the apparition was growing larger, amorphous and swirling like a whirlpool of energy, and I found myself mesmerized. I couldn't look away.
"Mom? Mom!" Kip's tentative voice shook me out of my paralysis. As I broke free from the trance, I thought I caught a glimpse of cold steel teeth in the heart of the shadow. I broke into a sweat—this couldn't be good. Couldn't be safe. I had to get Kip out of the room now, but before I could move, the creature lunged, dissipating Susan's image as it shot right through her misty body on a beeline for me. Both Kip and I screamed as the thing plowed through me like a freight train.
Kip gasped and lurched forward, bumping against my back. "Mom!"
I whirled around as his scream cut short, just in time to catch him in my arms as he sprawled to the floor. "Kip? Kip?" What was happening to my son? His eyes rolled back in his head, and he began to convulse. A seizure? Could he be having some sort of epileptic fit? That glazed stare was too close to a death mask. But the convulsions stopped and, with a look that told me that Kip wasn't anywhere behind those gleaming eyes, he lifted his head and began to laugh. "Kip! Can you hear me?"
Miranda came racing into the room. She stopped cold at the sight of her brother. "What's wrong?"
"Don't underestimate me, bitch. I'm here to stay." The voice emanating from my son's mouth was dark and masculine. Miranda let out a little shriek. By now the shadow had separated enough from Kip that we could see mist rising out of his body.
Thick, like a haze of smog, the energy from everything going on threatened to overwhelm me. Kip fighting against the possession, anger fueling the spirit, Miranda's confusion and panic over her baby brother; together, these emotions formed a vortex, an undertow in a psychic whirlpool, and I was battling the current, trying to pull my son out of the maelstrom.
"In my room—get the bottle of amethyst water and my ward rune!" I yelled at Miranda, willing her to move, to break free of her fear. Her eyes darted first to Kip, then back at me. With a choked cry, she turned and raced out of the door.
I leaned over my son, forcing myself to quit shaking as I focused on the spirit that was using him as a megaphone. "Get out of my son, now!" Miranda rushed back in, clutching the bottle and my copper warding rune. She held them out to me, shaking so hard that I could barely grab hold of them.
I slapped the copper plate down over his heart, where the sigil would help me concentrate the energy. The etched rune on the copper began to glow. Using my teeth, I pulled the cork out of the bottle and splashed his face with the water. I took a guess that the spirit had entered his body through his third eye—the psychic portal on the forehead—so that seemed the most logical place from which to try and evict the bastard.
"Kneel on his other side." I glanced up to make sure she heard me. Miranda obediently dropped to the floor, but looked about ready to lose it. As if the spirit sensed what I was planning, Kip began to convulse, his body burning with fever. I pushed him flat against the floor, straddling him in order to pin him down with my knees.
I cupped my hands over the ward rune. The copper felt hot beneath my fingers. "Put your hands on top of mine. I know you're scared, but I need you to help."
"Okay…" Miranda was slow, the fear making her sluggish.
"Get your hands over mine. Damn it, move when I tell you!" She gave me a wounded look but obeyed. I inhaled deeply as I anchored into the feel of the wood floor, to the stability of the soil beneath. The tendrils of earth mana began to flow through my body, calming my raging mind. No room for doubt. No room for anger. This had to work. Kip's life depended on it.
I began to whisper, letting the words grow louder with each round. "Be gone, be gone, be gone, be gone!"
Like a bonfire sputtering at first, then catching hold and roaring to life, the force of the chant expanded, growing deeper as if it were no longer coming from my breath but out of the mouth of a wind tunnel, like some giant street cleaner sweeping away the chaos that had claimed my son. I nodded to Miranda. Trembling at first, she settled into the rhythm. Lilting and celestial, her voice darted over the words like a hummingbird hovering over a bird feeder.
I increased the urgency of the chant. Kip began to thrash, jerking wildly as a loud whoosh reverberated through the room. A rush of mist swirled up from his body and vanished out the window. Miranda burst into tears. I smoothed back Kip's hair and felt for his pulse. It was steady, and he was breathing softly, with a good rhythm. The fever had broken. As I slumped against the foot of his bed, the copper rune dropped to the floor.
When I managed to muster up enough energy, I tipped his chin. "Kip? Kip? Kipling, speak to me." His eyes fluttered, and he struggled to yawn. Miranda, weeping silently, crept over to snuggle next to us.
I kissed her forehead. "You did real good helping me, Randa. He's okay. Everything is going to be okay." I wished I felt as confident as I sounded.
KIP DOVE INTO his sandwich. I cautioned him to slow down so he wouldn't choke. Being possessed wasn't a walk in the park, especially for an eight-year-old boy, but I had the sneaking suspicion that he was a little too excited about the whole situation.
I handed Randa her sandwich and fixed one for myself. "After tonight, Susan can kiss my ass if she thinks I'm going to help her. I'll blow her ghostly butt to hell before I let her and her friend near this house again."
Miranda picked at her food.
Kip swallowed and took a sip of his milk. "Why can't you help her? I don't think that thing is her friend." He was recovering too quickly for my comfort. For once, I would have rather seen him scared witless, but I also knew that adrenaline worked wonders to overpower fear. I hoped the excitement would wear off after he had calmed down and gotten some food into him.