My reflection looked normal. Same pale face, same tired expression. Same empty definitely-not-possessed hazel eyes?—
Except.
For just a second—the barest flash—I could have sworn they looked darker. Larger. Like the pupils had swallowed the iris whole.
I blinked. Nope, normal again.
“I don’t see anything,” I said, handing the mirror back too quickly.
Mordechai took it, still watching me with that unreadable expression. “No,” he said quietly. “I don’t suppose you would.”
Setting aside the mirror, Mordechai raised his hand, his mouth moving with words I couldn’t quite make out. Then I realized he was giving me a blessing. A blessing! I didn’t need it, didn’t want it, but still…
The image seemed to loosen in my mind, and I breathed easier.
“Darkness knows your weaknesses, Delia,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Your past and every hidden thought. First, it will try to frighten you. Then it will try to seduce you. And when you confront it directly, it will trick you, make you see that which isn’t there, and expose you to all who might tear you down.”
Seduce me?Of all Mordechai’s words, those were the ones that caught me, pulled at me, like fingers twining through my hair, tugging my head back, my chin up, exposing my mouth and my neck to hot, hungry?—
The air conditioner chose that moment to kick on, and I nearly jumped out of my chair. I drew my arms into my body, hunching over, wishing I had a sweater. “It doesn’t do that to you.”
“Doesn’t it?” Mordechai looked old again, but his eyes were serious. “You aren’t wearing the Hamsa hand amulet I got you, Delia. You should, now more than ever.”
I shifted uneasily. “You said I didn’t need that stuff.”
He didn’t look away. “You may not, but it is protection, and protection is grace. As agonizing as evil’s attack on your flesh may be, Delia, the attack on your mind is far worse. There is always pain. Always. But bodily pain fades. Wounds heal. A torn spirit is far harder to repair. Youcannotlet that happen. It’s why you should never confront evil alone and unprotected.”
“But Ihelpedher!” The anger burst out of me unexpectedly, fueled by a wave of indignation. “It left. I got rid of it.”
“Youdidn’t, though, yes?” Mordechai lifted a weathered hand again. “It’s not by your strength but by the Almighty’s power. And by His hand you are a witness to an act of grace, over and over again.”
Something slithered inside me then—fear, apprehension, resentment, outright pain. I stiffened in my chair, unreasonably angry. “Whatever, Mordechai. Don’t act like either one of you is doing me any favors.”
His smile was gentle. “I know I’m not. You’re the one helping me.”
And just like that, the anger bled away.
“Oh. Well, fine.” I nodded again at the papers on his desk, desperate for a change of subject. “So, what’s that about? It looks like a lot more information than you usually get.”
He didn’t glance at the files, though I was doing my level best to read everything upside down. There were letters and what looked like copied pages from a journal. The letter was new. The copied pages looked old, though. Tattered, even. A sudden thought struck me. “Is this some sort of cold case? Like an unsolved mystery you’ve been asked to consult on or something?”
I tried hard not to watch the paranormal reality TV shows about ghost hunters or demon chasers, but suddenly everything on the rabbi’s desk made sense. Of course, someone from a TV station or whatever had come to him with a case thathad some sensationalistic angle. Of course, they’d asked for his help. People tracked Mordechai down all the time, even though he didn’t exactly advertise. He only went to temple on rare occasions, and he’d taken me, like, twice. I’d fallen asleep both times, but he’d kept trying for a while after that. I couldn’t remember when he’d stopped suggesting I go.
I scooted the chair a little bit closer to him. “That’s it, isn’t it? A cold case. And who’s the guy? Is he still a college kid or has he grown up now?”
Mordechai was watching me with interest now, but I couldn’t read his face. Nothing new there. “He’s twenty-seven, so hardly a kid. Only a little older than you.”
“Ah—right.” My stomach tightened again, but Mordechai kept going.
“He’s the one who contacted me. Why have you singled him out from the others?”
“What others—” I frowned and looked down at the pictures again. The buildings, the horses. And therewereother people in the photos too, I realized. People I had totally missed during my first glance through, somehow. They stood in front of the house, then back at the fence watching the horses. Even in the picture with the guy, they ranged around him in a stilted family portrait—Grandma, Mom and Dad, a much older sister or a young aunt holding a little boy, and the guy who looked super young, no matter what Mordechai said. All of them smiled at the camera.
“Oh.” I struggled to come up with an excuse. “Well, I noticed him more is all, I guess. Who are these people?”
Mordechai tilted his head, and once again, I had the feeling he was looking not at me, but past me. Like he wasn’t seeing me at all, but imagining this poor family and their problems. That tracked, I supposed. Because if nothing else, these people clearly had problems. That fact shimmered off the pages in front of Mordechai like a living thing.
After a second, though, the rabbi shrugged. “I don’t have enough information yet.”
