We’re pulling into the church parking lot, gravel grinding under the tires. It’s hard to find a spot—the place is crowded.
“I hope he’s here again tonight,” Aunt Nellie mutters.
“Who? Edgar?”
“Bob told me there’s been a special speaker at the Bible studies. Edgar speaks first and then this other man. He’s an expert in myths and lore, and Edgar says he can help us, teach us how to lock the demon down permanently.”
“Is this someone Edgar met at college?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where did he study?”
“I don’t know, Cathy.” Aunt Nellie turns off the car and gets out. “Come on. You’ll be waiting downstairs in the children’s hall during the Bible study.”
“Why?” I hop out and slam the car door. “I’ve been going to church every week for years, and suddenly my pagan vibes are too dangerous to be in the same room with everybody else?”
“This isn’t a joke.” Aunt Nellie grabs her purse from the back seat, shuts the door, and locks the car. Her face is grim. “You should care about how you affect others, Cathy.”
“And you should care aboutme.” Impulsively I catch her arm as she’s walking past. “But you never have, have you? For years, you’ve known something was wrong with me. You thought I wassick, mentally and physically, and yet you never asked me for details, never really tried to help or give me any support.”
“I gave you a job,” she replies, acid searing her tone. “I didn’t fire you when you left in the middle of your shift over and over again. I pretended not to know when you followed young men to their cars and went off to fornicate with them.”
“You knew about Dad’s drinking,” I say, breathless and furious. “You must have known. You had to know that he hit me, hurt me, scared me, and you didnothing.” The last word fractures, split by a sob. “You knew I missed my mom, that I was coming apart, that I was miserable. Did you realize that Dad took my paychecks? I begged you to pay me in cash, and you wouldn’t. The only money I could keep for myself was my tips from the café.”
“Your dad was entitled to that money. Room and board, honey. The price of being saddled with a creature like you for a lifetime.” She’s coming unglued now, showing more emotion than I’ve ever seen from her. “I wish I’d known what you were, what my brother was dealing with all those years. I could have helped him with you, given him some relief. What must he be feeling, knowing he spawned a demon with your corrupted mother—”
I’m bursting, on the verge of exploding—it’s either scream at her or slap her, and a scream could cause way more damage. So I slap her face.
“Hey!” someone shouts from across the parking lot, and a couple men start running our way.
I back away from Aunt Nellie, while her gaze burns into mine.
I’m pretty sure I just ruined any chance of getting my phone back, so I speak my mind, even though I’m shaking all over. “I’m not a child. You can’t treat me like this—it’s not right. I want to leave Wicklow. I want my phone and my purse.”
“And where will you go?”
“I’ll get an Uber. Go to a shelter until I can get a job. If you care about me at all, you’ll let me leave. Let me do this.”
“Pastor says you’re our responsibility,” Aunt Nellie says quietly, soft ice in her tone. “It would be wrong to inflict you and your curse upon anyone else. If you’re feeling this way, maybe you shouldn’t work at the store anymore. We’ll discuss other options.”
The two men who saw me slap her come jogging up, and they’re joined by a third man and a couple of women, all forming a jagged circle around me. I kick myself inwardly for thinking I could reason with her, for not running when I had the chance. I should have shut the hell up and taken off down the road. But without my phone and card, I’d have even less chance of making it anywhere else.
Aunt Nellie turns deliberately away from me and nods to one of the men. “Put her downstairs.”
The two men don’t touch me, but there’s a clear threat of force if I don’t obey. I could try a scream, but it wouldn’t knock all of them down, and if I ran, that would incite a full-on chase. They might shoot me with more than a taser this time.
If I let them take me downstairs into the children’s hall, maybe I can find a phone and make a call while they’re all upstairs for Bible study. I think I remember there being a pale blue phone at the end of the downstairs hallway—the old-fashioned kind of wall phone with a loopy cord.
I relax my stance and let the two men escort me into the church, then down the steps to the children’s hall.
“No kids down here tonight?” I ask.
“They’re all upstairs. Joining us for the Bible study,” replies Mr. Berg. He’s on my left. On my right is Mr. Dawson. Mr. Berg’s stomach growls loudly as they walk me down the hall.
“Hungry?” I ask sweetly.
He clears his throat. “Deprivation of the body brings strength to the soul. Like Jesus fasting in the desert.”
