of the exorcism. Wouldn’t Gabriel have taught Jessie how to resist the effects of holy water the same he had silver?
As if in answer to his question, the dark mark faded right before their eyes. Jessie let out a soft breath and short moan. “You can do that again if you want,” she said. “Shouldn’t bother me now.”
The hand Caruthers had used to draw the cross still hovered over Jessie’s head. It began to tremble. He closed the hand into a fist and pressed it against his lips.
“You all right, Father?” Lockman asked. The guy looked ready to snap.
But Caruthers nodded, pried his fist away from his mouth, and set his shoulders with new resolve. He handed the chalice over to Truman, which Truman took with quivering hands of his own.
Caruthers reached into his pocket and withdrew the rosary he’d held earlier. He dangled the cross over Jessie’s head and began swinging it in a slow circle around her face.
“Spirit, I call you by name. Gabriel Dolan, do you hear my voice?”
“He can hear you fine,” Jessie said.
“Jessie, I need you to remain silent from here on. I only want to speak with Gabriel directly.”
That set off a spark in Lockman. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The only way to draw out the spirit is to commune with him directly. Now, please. Stop interrupting and let me do this.”
Lockman crossed his arms and could feel the tension in his biceps. He did not like where this was headed.
Truman slowly backed away as if afraid sudden movement might set off an explosion. Not exactly comforting behavior from one of the so-called experts.
The only thing that kept Lockman from calling off the whole thing was the memory of Kate’s face when he told her he was taking Jessie away from her and she could never see her daughter again. A reminder of all the horror he had brought on the two women he loved most in this world. Jessie was a vampire because of him. Gabriel’s soul literally haunted her body because of him.
If he could do anything to repair some of that damage, he had to try. Evicting Gabriel from her mind would go a long way.
He set his jaw and let the priest continue his ritual.
“Gabriel Dolan,” Caruthers said in a deepened voice. “Christ’s power commands that you speak to me.”
Jessie’s eyes twitched under the lids as if she were in REM sleep. Her hands clawed into the recliner’s arms. Her breath quickened.
The tendons in Lockman’s neck felt ready to snap. He gritted his teeth and kept silent.
“Gabriel. Do you hear me?” The rosary swung above her face and cast a moving shadow across her features. “Answer me.”
The air took on an electric quality. It smelled like burnt wires. The hair on the back of Lockman’s neck and arms stood on end.
“Something’s happening,” Truman whispered.
Caruthers shot him a dirty look, then returned his attention to Jessie. “Christ demands a response.”
“Then why don’t you fetch him and we’ll talk.”
The words came from Jessie’s mouth, but sounded nothing like her. Not just the tone or inflections. Somehow her voice had actually changed, as if it weren’t her speaking at all.
The change wasn’t the strangest part, though. Lockman recognized the voice. It sounded like him.
The father licked his lips. His voice had the slightest tremor. “The Lord is always with us.”
“See? That stuff always confused me. I thought we were talking about Jesus, not God.”
“They are one in the same.”
Jessie’s eyes snapped open. Her gaze locked onto Caruthers. She grinned. “Mortal religion is so strange.”
“Gabriel?” the father asked.
“Who else?”
Lockman couldn’t hold back. “Get out of my daughter you son of a bitch.”
Caruthers glared at Lockman. He didn’t say anything, though.
Jessie grabbed the rosary still swinging above her and jerked it out of the father’s hand. She gave the wooden cross on the end of the bead chain the kind of look a four year-old gives a mound of
As if in answer to his question, the dark mark faded right before their eyes. Jessie let out a soft breath and short moan. “You can do that again if you want,” she said. “Shouldn’t bother me now.”
The hand Caruthers had used to draw the cross still hovered over Jessie’s head. It began to tremble. He closed the hand into a fist and pressed it against his lips.
“You all right, Father?” Lockman asked. The guy looked ready to snap.
But Caruthers nodded, pried his fist away from his mouth, and set his shoulders with new resolve. He handed the chalice over to Truman, which Truman took with quivering hands of his own.
Caruthers reached into his pocket and withdrew the rosary he’d held earlier. He dangled the cross over Jessie’s head and began swinging it in a slow circle around her face.
“Spirit, I call you by name. Gabriel Dolan, do you hear my voice?”
“He can hear you fine,” Jessie said.
“Jessie, I need you to remain silent from here on. I only want to speak with Gabriel directly.”
That set off a spark in Lockman. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The only way to draw out the spirit is to commune with him directly. Now, please. Stop interrupting and let me do this.”
Lockman crossed his arms and could feel the tension in his biceps. He did not like where this was headed.
Truman slowly backed away as if afraid sudden movement might set off an explosion. Not exactly comforting behavior from one of the so-called experts.
The only thing that kept Lockman from calling off the whole thing was the memory of Kate’s face when he told her he was taking Jessie away from her and she could never see her daughter again. A reminder of all the horror he had brought on the two women he loved most in this world. Jessie was a vampire because of him. Gabriel’s soul literally haunted her body because of him.
If he could do anything to repair some of that damage, he had to try. Evicting Gabriel from her mind would go a long way.
He set his jaw and let the priest continue his ritual.
“Gabriel Dolan,” Caruthers said in a deepened voice. “Christ’s power commands that you speak to me.”
Jessie’s eyes twitched under the lids as if she were in REM sleep. Her hands clawed into the recliner’s arms. Her breath quickened.
The tendons in Lockman’s neck felt ready to snap. He gritted his teeth and kept silent.
“Gabriel. Do you hear me?” The rosary swung above her face and cast a moving shadow across her features. “Answer me.”
The air took on an electric quality. It smelled like burnt wires. The hair on the back of Lockman’s neck and arms stood on end.
“Something’s happening,” Truman whispered.
Caruthers shot him a dirty look, then returned his attention to Jessie. “Christ demands a response.”
“Then why don’t you fetch him and we’ll talk.”
The words came from Jessie’s mouth, but sounded nothing like her. Not just the tone or inflections. Somehow her voice had actually changed, as if it weren’t her speaking at all.
The change wasn’t the strangest part, though. Lockman recognized the voice. It sounded like him.
The father licked his lips. His voice had the slightest tremor. “The Lord is always with us.”
“See? That stuff always confused me. I thought we were talking about Jesus, not God.”
“They are one in the same.”
Jessie’s eyes snapped open. Her gaze locked onto Caruthers. She grinned. “Mortal religion is so strange.”
“Gabriel?” the father asked.
“Who else?”
Lockman couldn’t hold back. “Get out of my daughter you son of a bitch.”
Caruthers glared at Lockman. He didn’t say anything, though.
Jessie grabbed the rosary still swinging above her and jerked it out of the father’s hand. She gave the wooden cross on the end of the bead chain the kind of look a four year-old gives a mound of
Similar Books
