Possess

understood Bridget, always seemed to know what his Pumpkin Bunny was thinking and feeling, even when she didn’t understand it herself.
    Pumpkin Bunny. Bridget’s eyes drifted to the bookshelf where her favorite childhood toy sat propped up in the corner. It had been a gift from her dad from before she could remember, a soft, fluffy stuffed bunny popping out of a pumpkin like a stripper from a birthday cake. She and Pumpkin Bunny had been inseparable. She had dragged that thing with her everywhere she went, since before she could walk until she was old enough to think that stuffed animals were lame. Its once-white fur was now yellowish gray, and its head had undergone so many surgeries, the multicolored threads from her mom’s sewing kit made it look more Frankenbunny than Pumpkin Bunny. But even when the toy had been relegated to a spot on her bookshelf, the nickname stuck. To her dad, Bridget was always Pumpkin Bunny.
    Bridget rested her forehead against her knees, closed her eyes, and listened to the sound of her breath: inhale one . . . two, exhale one . . . two, inhale one . . . two, exhale one . . . two.
    “I miss you, Dad,” she said out loud. “I wish you were here.”
    Something brushed past her leg. Something small, fuzzy, and moving quickly. Bridget’s eyes flew open. Not only was she hearing a phantom cat, now she was feeling one too?
    From deep inside her closet, Bridget again heard the faint scratching of a cat’s claws.

Thirteen
    “W HAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE not coming?” Monsignor said, holding open the door of his navy blue Crown Vic.
    Bridget glanced from Monsignor to Father Santos and back, then shrugged. “I’m not going. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
    “Bridget, I don’t understand.” Monsignor frowned and shot Father Santos an accusatory look, before turning back to her. “I thought we understood one another.”
    She couldn’t look him in the eye. “I don’t want to be like this.”
    “Like what?”
    A weapon? “A freak.”
    “Bridget, you have a gift, a gift many people would kill to possess.”
    Kill to possess? Was he crazy? Maybe kill to get rid of. Or maybe just kill.
    Monsignor knelt in front of her, his bushy white eyebrows pinched together above his nose. Bridget wasn’t sure if he was about to give her a pep talk or a proposal.
    “Bridget, think about what you’re saying.” He leaned an arm on his knee in what Bridget suspected was an attempt to look casual. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. “Think of the people you’ve helped already. The Fergusons and Mrs. Long.”
    It was true, Bridget couldn’t deny it. Who knew what would have happened that night to Danny and Manny if she hadn’t been there?
    Or maybe it was true that the demons were there because she had been babysitting at the Fergusons’. Possessions seemed to be following her around.
    Father Santos stepped between them. “We can’t force Bridget to go,” he said lightly. “I doubt her gift is as effective if she’s using it against her will.”
    Monsignor’s eyes flashed toward Father Santos with a look of what Bridget could only describe as disgust. “This is none of your business, Father.”
    “If she doesn’t want to go,” Father Santos continued with a smile, “she doesn’t have to.” He looked utterly pleased with the turn of events.
    Monsignor bolted to his feet. “I’m sorry, Father Santos. I did not realize that you were in charge of exorcisms for this archdiocese. I did not realize that you were the only senior exorcist in the United States.”
    Father Santos had to tilt his head back to look Monsignor in the face. The older priest towered above him, hands clenched at his sides, looming over Father Santos like a wave about to break on the lowly shore.
    “Er,” Father Santos stuttered. “Well, no, of course. I mean, the Vatican has, well . . . I mean.”
    Bridget almost felt sorry for Father Santos. It was like watching a rabbit go up against a grizzly bear. Slaughterfest.
    “Exactly.” Monsignor narrowed his eyes. “And if you think for one second that you have enough experience, enough faith, enough knowledge of this girl and what she is capable of, then by all means, I shall step aside and let you proceed with today’s banishment.”
    “M-M-Monsignor Renault,” Father Santos managed to spit out. “I—I’m only saying that Bridget, well, she—she should decide for herself.”
    “Really?” Monsignor swung around and addressed Bridget in