Possess

said under his breath.
    The demoniac threw back its head and howled. “Nooooooooooooooooooo!”
    Her cell phone went off again, but this time Bridget didn’t flinch. She had the upper hand; time to finish it. She grabbed the woman by the sides of her wrinkly old face. “Tell me who you serve!”
    The tingling intensified, centering in the pit of her stomach. She loved the way the electricity snapped and crackled over her skin.
    “Amaymon,” the woman croaked. “We serve Amaymon.”
    Monsignor Renault and Father Santos gasped.
    “Amaymon knows you,” Mrs. Long said. “Amaymon knows what you are.”
    A hot wave rushed through Bridget, starting with her fingers and washing over her body. It moved down from her stomach, lower, and ignited a spark deep within her.
    The demon was turning her on.
    That was so messed up.
    Bridget tossed Mrs. Long away from her and stumbled backward.
    “What—what’s wrong, Bridget?” Father Santos asked. “Are you okay?”
    Her knees felt wobbly, but as soon as she let go of Mrs. Long, the strange sensations stopped. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
    “You must finish the banishment,” Monsignor said. His voice was flat, emotionless, but when she glanced his way, his eyes were pleading. “I know it’s difficult, but, Bridget, you must continue.”
    “No, no, no,” Mrs. Long muttered. “No, no, no, no, no.”
    Bridget swallowed hard. She didn’t want to touch Mrs. Long again, but at the same time, there’d been a brief flash of something powerful, something she’d enjoyed. What kind of a weirdo did that make her?
    “Go ahead,” Monsignor prompted. Patience was not his forte.
    You can do this, Bridge. Just get it over with.
    Bridget reached for Mrs. Long. As soon as her fingers touched the old woman’s wrinkling flesh, the powerful energy came rushing back into her body tenfold.
    “All right, servants of Amaymon,” she said. Her voice was low and breathy. Not like her voice anymore. It was too confident, too calm to be her voice. “Any last words?”
    Mrs. Long’s eyes grew wide, as if the beings inside her knew what was coming next. Her mouth opened in protest, then stopped as she began to convulse violently. The convulsions stopped as suddenly as they had begun, and when Mrs. Long opened her mouth, a single voice whispered, “Beware.”
    The warning totally caught Bridget off guard. “Huh?”
    The old lady clutched at Bridget’s hands, pulling her close. “Do not trust them,” she said so only Bridget could hear.
    “What?” Bridget asked.
    “Do not trust any of them.”
    “Who?”
    But Bridget never got her answer. Mrs. Long shuddered and fell limp in her hands.

Four
    B RIDGET’S HANDS TREMBLED. W AS THE old lady dead? Had she killed her? Was Murder in the Act of Exorcism a capital crime?
    She let Mrs. Long’s body fall against the pillows.
    Father Santos dashed to Mrs. Long’s side. He felt for a pulse both at her neck and wrist, then pried her eyes open one at a time.
    “She’s all right,” he said. “Sleeping.”
    Bridget let out a long breath.
    “I think,” he continued, looking around, “I think they’re gone.”
    “They are.” Bridget knew as soon as the words left her mouth that they were true. The chill had lifted from the room, the oppressive atmosphere evaporated.
    Monsignor nodded in agreement. “Well done, Bridget.”
    “They left willingly,” Father Santos piped in. “Before you could banish them.”
    Left willingly? That didn’t sound right. “Why?”
    Father Santos took the holy water and sprinkled it over the salt he’d laid down earlier. “By leaving of their own free will, they are able to come back. If you’d banished them, they’d be relegated to Hell for eternity.”
    “We do not know that,” Monsignor snapped. “The idea of demons acting under their own free will is ridiculous. I suggest you keep your theories to yourself, Father Santos.”
    “Y-y-yes, Monsignor.”
    “You mustn’t assume anything with these beings. It will be your undoing.” Monsignor replaced his tools in a small leather bag and opened the door. “Come now, Bridget. You should be getting home. Your family will be worried about you.”
    That was it? She’d scared off a couple of Satan’s demons, and now she was just supposed to go home and do her algebra homework?
    “But—” she started.
    Monsignor rested a hand on her shoulder and bent his face down close to hers, dropping his voice. “I know this is all very strange, but we