Possess

young Tobias through the desert. Gabriel the messenger, almost girlish with his strawberry blond locks, bringing the news of the Annunciation to the Virgin Mary. Michael with his sword, his foot on the neck of a cartoonish serpent as he vanquished Satan before the Fall. They seemed to be watching over her, the only witnesses to her weekly meetings with Monsignor, shepherding her into a strange, new world.
    Monsignor finished up, carefully closed the leather-bound journal in which he’d been writing, and slipped it into his desk drawer. Bridget heard a lock click into place, then Monsignor tucked the key into the pocket of his cassock and turned his attention to her.
    “Shall we discuss yesterday’s banishment?”
    He always used that word—“banishment”—instead of exorcism. Bridget kind of liked it. Banishment sounded less icky, less Linda Blair’s spinning head and green puke.
    “Please.”
    “You did very well with your first possession.”
    “Thanks.”
    “You remembered the Rules, you followed your instincts.” He paused. “I was impressed.”
    Bridget beamed. It was high praise coming from Monsignor. It was why she’d been working so hard, struggling through the Rules and the training, hoping she would remember what to do when the time came. She wanted to leap over the desk and hug him.
    “But you still need to work on your focus before we can tackle a more complicated possession.”
    Focus. She hated that word. “Oh.”
    “These are powerful entities, Bridget. They are not just evil spirits, things of fairy tales and nightmares. Demons cannot manifest of their own accord. They must be summoned into our world through a curse or a satanic ritual, and such summoning only increases their power, as you witnessed yesterday. If you are to succeed in this career, you must learn focus.”
    Whoa, what did he say? “Career? I don’t think I—”
    “That said,” Monsignor barreled on, ignoring her protest, “you possess a remarkable talent. I’ve never met anyone with your unique abilities.”
    “You haven’t?” Bridget hadn’t thought to ask if there were others like her. She’d just sort of assumed that there were. Was she really all alone in this?
    Monsignor shook his head. “I have never seen anyone lay hands on a demoniac with the results you achieved yesterday.”
    That wasn’t particularly comforting. “Why?” she asked. “Why me?”
    “That is difficult to say. Obviously, you’ve been granted a gift.”
    Banishing demons was a gift? Some gift. Like getting underwear from Santa.
    “Your talents could serve a great many people. Think of all the Mrs. Longs you could help. It would have been many sessions, many painful exorcisms before I would have been able to free her.”
    All her fears about her new power bubbled to the surface. “What if it’s not a gift? What if . . .” Bridget bit her lip. “What if I’m somehow causing the possessions?”
    Monsignor looked confused. “I don’t follow.”
    “You said it yourself: Father Santos was sent here because the Vatican is concerned about the rise of demonic activity in the area.”
    “Yes. And?”
    “Well, I’ve been babysitting for the Ferguson twins since I was thirteen, and nothing weird or demonic ever happened before. Then suddenly I can do . . . things.” Bridget swallowed hard. She was almost afraid to say it. “This power I have—what if I summoned the demons into their house with it?”
    “Have you been performing satanic rituals without my knowledge?” Monsignor asked.
    “Um . . . no.”
    He smiled. “Then I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Besides, I’ve never heard Mrs. Long mention you before. Do you have a relationship with her I don’t know about?”
    Bridget shook her head.
    “See? You’re not causing these events. And both the Fergusons and Mrs. Long are quite lucky that you discovered your new talents when you did.”
    Bridget tried to smile. They were lucky. Not her .
    “As for Father Santos, I think the Vatican is overreacting. Throughout the years I’ve witnessed dramatic fluctuations in demonic possessions. It’s a natural occurrence.”
    “Oh. Good.”
    “So don’t worry.”
    Monsignor smiled. He looked so pleased, so proud of her. And yet . . .
    “What if I don’t want this power?” she blurted out. “What if I just want to go back to being what I was before?”
    Monsignor cocked his head to the side. “And what, exactly, was that?”
    Bridget sighed.