Possess

around her, and they continued to dance. But Bridget felt stiff, on edge, like she was tensing up in expectation of a punch to the gut. That lovely sensation of abandon had vanished.
    “Yesssss,” the voice hissed again. “It is the hour. We are ready.”
    This time Bridget pushed Matt away, her eyes scanning the room, waiting for any sign of the telltale vertigo that usually announced a demonic presence.
    The DJ started a bass-thumping Ke$ha remix that set the whole dance floor screaming with glee. Students rushed forward in a dizzying blur of dark and light that made Bridget stagger. Matt caught her arm. “You want to get something to drink?”
    “Yeah, thanks.”
    They headed to the refreshment table, where Matt ordered them two glasses of sparkling apple cider. Bridget downed hers in one gulp, wishing there was booze in it. If ever she needed a drink, it was now. First the church, now the gym. Demons. Why were they here?
    “We are ready!” There were several voices this time, all speaking in unison. Bridget could feel the demons gathering in strength—like the rhythm of a collective breath heaving in and out—but the atmosphere of the gym hadn’t changed. The temperature hadn’t dropped and the air didn’t have that dense, meaty feeling as if it were thickening with every passing moment. The demons were somewhere close by, but not in the gym.
    “Bridget, do you need to sit down?” Matt was staring at Bridget’s hands; they were shaking. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”
    “No, it’s just . . .” It’s just what? I can hear demons in the walls and I’m having a tough time ignoring them, even with your cute, boyish smile?
    “Just what?”
    “We are ready for the Master! Ready for the Master!” The voices were shrieking now. A nasty, bone-chilling howl that shook her to the core. “Slit his throat! Spill his blood for the Master!”
    “No!” Bridget yelled out loud.
    “Bridge?”
    Bridget spun wildly around the gym, a kaleidoscope of streamers and swirling lights, flailing arms and spinning bodies. Another murder. There was about to be another murder, and only she could stop it. All she had to do was figure out where the voices were coming from.
    Bridget ran for the back door of the gym into the south courtyard of St. Michael’s Prep. The whole courtyard was awash in strange, dancing lights—blues and greens, reds and purples. Bridget looked up and saw that the stained glass windows of the church looked alive as light flickered and lapped at their panes.
    Matt trotted up behind her. “Bridget, what the hell is going on?”
    She held up a hand. “Shh!”
    “Don’t shush me. Look, I told you I didn’t hear anything.”
    “You wouldn’t.” God what was he going to think of her? A complete loony? Shake it off, Bridget. It doesn’t matter. She had to find where the voices were coming from.
    “Blood! Blood! Blood! The Master demands blood!”
    The church.
    She ran for the side door of the church, but Matt grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?”
    “The church. Matt, please, you have to let me go. Something terrible is going to happen.”
    “In the church?”
    “I think someone’s about to be murdered.”
    “Murdered?”
    “I know you think I’m crazy, but you have to believe me.”
    Matt forced a laugh. “Bridge, come on. How could you possibly know—”
    A bloodcurdling scream pierced the courtyard.
    Without a word Matt and Bridget sprinted toward the church. Matt reached the door first and twisted the handle, but the door was locked. Bridget veered right and made for the door to the sacristy. She yanked it open and ran through the priests’ dressing area, out onto the altar.
    “Not enough! Not enough! Not enough hatred! Not enough pain for the Master!” the voices wailed in agony.
    The atmosphere inside the church was heavy and thick. There were hundreds of candles lit, standing all around the altar, like she’d interrupted some kind of ritual. Footsteps echoed through the church, and somewhere near the front entrance, a door opened, sending a gust of wind racing through the sanctuary. It snuffed out the candles and plummeted the church into darkness.
    “You have failed. You have failed the Master!” The demons were losing power, their numbers dwindling with the wispy smoke of the extinguished candles, their voices fading into the darkness. “Failed, failed, failed, failed, failed.”
    The oppressive energy in the church evaporated. The entities were