Possess

the chair. Two orderlies came running across the room.
    “It’s okay.” She could sense it in his touch. The demons had left, back to wherever they’d come from or perhaps someplace better. Bridget had no idea; she only knew that the body and mind of Milton Undermeyer were now free.
    The orderlies kept their distance, confused by what was happening. As Bridget held him upright, Undermeyer’s lids flitted open. His eyes darted around the room—to the orderlies, to the television, to the straitjacket that held him, taking in his surroundings for the first time. Finally they landed on Bridget.
    “You.”
    She smiled. “Yes.”
    “They’re gone?”
    “Yes.”
    Undermeyer’s chest heaved. “I didn’t kill your father.”
    “I know. I know it was Monsignor Renault. You’ll be getting out of here soon, I promise.”
    “How can I ever thank you?” His voice sounded so old, so frail. Bridget caught the orderlies exchanging glances.
    Bridget winked. “Just don’t tell anyone.”
    Matt was leaning against the truck, waiting for her. He had taken his arm out of the sling and was slowly flexing and bending it in front of him. When he saw Bridget coming down the stairs, he straightened up.
    “Well?” he asked.
    Bridget nodded. “Done.”
    He reached his good hand toward her. “What did it feel like?”
    “It felt . . .” She laced her fingers through his, and a feeling of comfort and love and hominess enveloped her. “It felt right. Like this.”
    “It does feel right.” Matt pulled her close. “I’m glad you don’t hate me anymore.”
    “Me too.”
    He gazed down at her, and the longish strands of his hair hung in front of his eyes. She reached up and brushed them off his forehead, then stood on her tiptoes and kissed him playfully on the lips. The tingling began immediately, but Bridget didn’t pull away. Instead she relished the sensation for a moment, letting her tongue graze Matt’s upper lip. Then she pushed the feeling away, relegating it to the other part of her, the Watcher part. Separate.
    “I’m still going to keep an eye on you,” Matt said. “You’re trouble.”
    “Tell me something I don’t know.”
    “From now on, consider me your guardian angel.”
    Bridget snorted. More like the other way around.
    Matt pulled his head back. “What’s so funny?”
    Bridget ignored him. “So what duties go along with being a guardian angel?” she asked.
    “Well, for starters,” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist, “I’m never leaving your side.”
    “That’ll make gym class a little awkward.” Bridget smirked.
    But Matt’s face was serious. There wasn’t even a hint of levity in his eyes as he held her body firmly against his. “Bridget, I mean it. I want to be there for you. I want to be with you.”
    “You are.”
    “I mean forever.” He paused and Bridget’s stomach got all fluttery. “I love you, Bridget Liu.”
    He loved her. She’d known it somehow, known it since before her confrontation with Amaymon, before he helped her unravel the mystery of her dad’s death, before they shared that first kiss. But the warmth spreading throughout her body told her something even more important.
    “I love you too,” she said. She didn’t care if she was going soft. She loved Matt Quinn.
    He leaned down and kissed her. Bridget closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of his soft lips against her own. It was a sensation she wanted to feel every day.
    Matt was the first to break the kiss. He brought his hand to her cheek and caressed it. “Now what do you say we get the hell out of here? This place gives me the creeps.”
    “Agreed.” Bridget smiled and opened the passenger door. “Besides, we’ve got to get home. Sunday night. Shepherd’s pie.”
    “I wouldn’t miss it.”
    Bridget took one last look at the Sonoma State Hospital as Matt circled out of the parking lot. She had no idea what the future would bring them, and even though she felt a slight pang of guilt for bringing Matt into her world of angels and demons, of Watchers and Emim, she couldn’t for one moment picture going forward without him.
    Good or evil, they’d face it. Together.

Acknowledgments
    To Ginger Clark, my fearless, amazing, ballsy agent. She’s been a friend and ally, and she’s never given up on me. I count myself lucky to be one of her clients.
    To Kristin Daly Rens, my wonderful editor, who understood this novel from the get-go, whose notes and vision totally resonated with