“Yeah,” I say softly. “She was well loved.”
“You knew her?” His voice goes up an octave.
“Yeah, she, uhh—”
My thought trails off as the pastor gets ahold of the microphone again.
“Now, everyone, please bow your heads. Let’s pray for Skye’s life on Earth and now with our heavenly father. Once you are done praying, please release your lanterns in the open air,” the pastor says. As everyone is tossing their lanterns in the air, I hold on to mine tightly, my body fully facing Ben.
“She told me she loved her dad.”
“No, she didn’t,” he says quickly.
Ben’s eyes lock on mine—a combination of honey and gold. An inherited warmth that the whole Silva clan shares. He must be so struck by my admission about her because his fingertips have loosened their hold on to the lantern.
Sending it straight up in the sky before he is ready.
“Do I know you?” His voice falters.
“I am an old friend of Skye. I was hoping to speak to you about her…”
“What are you doing, Charlotte?” Skye interjects. She is standing between us, trying to push me away. My pendant is stinging at the base of my neck as soon as she says this.
I don’t even care.
“Can we sit down somewhere quiet?” I ask.
“Sure?” Ben skeptically walks behind me. I am sure he is intrigued by the fact that he is following a stranger.
Nobody is left inside of the cathedral. At a random pew, the silence grows between us as we take a seat.
“I want to show you something.” I pass my necklace to him, feeling drawn to do it. Skye doesn’t follow me this time, but in the corner of my eye, I can see her peeking from the door.
Watching our interaction from afar.
“This looks familiar…”
Ben takes the pendant from my hand to examine it in the same fashion as his sister, caressing his fingers along the edges of the stone.
“Almost reminds me of the oval necklace my great-grandmother wore.” He gives a soft but confused laugh. The glow from it is shining the strongest light I’ve seen. His eyes widen as I watch the goose bumps raise on his arm.
I know exactly what he is feeling at this very moment.
Every LED light in the room flickers so rapidly it could send someone into instant epilepsy. The air begins to churn, picking up speed as it swirls around us.
The chant hisses at us, making us both aware of its presence.
“Duas almas incompletas.”
These are the phrases that never sounded like her. But a possessed, ancient voice filled the room. The voice that belongs to the pendant.
It is only when a large thud crashes down onto the hardwood floors that we resurface to a normally lit church. A Bible is cracked wide open on the floor.
“You are gonna think I am crazy…” I say, slipping out an awkward laugh of my own.
“Can’t be any freakier than that,” he says, pointing to the page. A highlighted portion of the text jumps out at me.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
