“Demon! You will stop perversing this child!” another robed man accused, flipping the page and continuing his shouted bullshit while I rolled my eyes, though, I was more than a bit thankful he managed to pull me from that flashback before it could take hold of me completely.
“I’ll be back,” the bishop said as he bolted from the room, casting me one last look that showed every ounce of his worry and remorse. He believed me and was questioning Gran.
“The bishop thinks your gran is lying about your possession, but the others don’t,” Monty informed me. He stopped in front of a robed priest, putting his shadowed hand on his head. “This one here has plans for you. Plans that might make me have to kill him. That could be a fun way to end the night, filleting this man alive.” He let out another growl, one that shook the walls of the basement and gave every man pause.
“So would untying me,” I told him. From the wide, fanged grin my imaginary friend heard me. But in response, he simply disappeared, leaving me alone with my fate.
“Get the holy water! She’s brought an army!” They were chanting faster now, and I spotted a silver dagger in one man’s hand. Fear pulsed through my veins at the sight of the weapon, and I fought against the restraints. I wasn’t going to die down here. Not at their hands and certainly not for something I couldn’t fucking help.
Where the fuck is Monty?!
“Stop that,” Gran bit out. I whipped my head to the side to see Gran standing next to the bishop, who didn’t look very happy. “This has to happen.”
The thick wooden cross in her hand was clenched in a tight fist, and I knew it wouldn’t only be a mentally taxing night, but a painful one too.
If there is a God, he’s obviously not here with me now.
* * *
“Your mother was justas lost as you are, you know,” my grandmother ranted as I tried to finish the stale sandwich as quickly as possible and not choke to death. It was the first food I’d been given in two days. I was starving and weak from hunger and torment. It didn’t help that I was barely able to get up from the chair I was tied to. If I hadn’t threatened to piss myself, they likely wouldn’t have let me up at all. At this point, I was pretty sure my lungs were full of dust. “The Lord is said to test you, and I’ve certainly faced my tests with you, Harlow.”
“I’m sorry it’s so fucking hard for you to deal with my mental health,” I said, muttering sarcastically. My filter was gone, thanks to the shit her and her crazy church had put me through. Her shrewd eyes narrowed on me, and she tried to figure out if I was being an asshole or truly sorry. The smack of her cane on the table meant she figured out it was the former. Before I could snatch my hand back, she slammed it down again, right on my knuckles. I bit back a scream as blood seeped from my skin.
How could she hate me this much? I swore she only had the cane to hit me with, she was agile for an old lady, and I knew deep down only a deal with the devil himself kept her alive.
She was the epitome of school marm, with her long floral dress, intensely tight bun, and permanent scowl. I hated her more than I hated anyone else in my life.
“There’s no such thing as bad mental health. Depression, bipolar, schizophrenia... it’s all just the devil trying to lead you astray from the Lord,” she scoffed. “You just didn’t pray hard enough, girl. Too lazy to give it a real try.”
“Yes, little human, pray harder,” Monty mocked my grandmother as he appeared on the table next to me. I should have been startled by him, but the familiar chill that always crept down my spine when he was near, told me he was coming. His long shadow-coated legs were tucked close to his chest and the fire within him burned bright as he stared straight into my soul.
“Maybe I should have yelled Scripture just a bit louder when you were praying the demons away,” I deadpanned as I ate the last bite and stood. Getting dizzy from the sudden movement, I had to brace myself before I fell again. That set her off a second time. She snatched the plate I just ate from and threw it, shattering the china against the wall. You’d think she’d have a bit more respect for the church.
“Don’t you patronize me, Harlow, I’ll throw you out on your ass!” she shrieked loud enough her face turned a violent shade of red. The old bat was going to kill herself if she didn’t calm down. It would be poetic justice if that happened, but I wasn’t going to be that lucky. Even the devil didn’t want my grandmother yet.
The bishop stepped in then, a priest standing next to him as he stared at my grandmother with more than a little suspicion now. He was the one who had found out about my diagnosis and ran out during the exorcism. Whatever he had done hadn’t stopped him from coming back though. She stood tall and proud, unbothered by his gaze.
“Father Lane, please take Gloria to the library to take a breath. I’ll take care of the girl,” he promised. The priest nodded before leading my grandmother away. Of course she didn’t miss the opportunity to give me her usual warning glare, promising pain if I spoke ill of her. She opened her mouth to speak but didn’t dare protest an order from a bishop.
“I didn’t do anything,” I argued weakly. He had an intimidating aura around him, and of all the clergy I’d met, he was above them all.
He nodded once and I saw the pity in his gaze. It had my teeth grinding in annoyance. I fucking hated pity. It was useless, a lazy reaction at seeing something you knew was wrong but had no intention of fixing.
“Come, Harlow, let’s take a moment in my office,” he said, leading me up the stairs and down the hall. I followed for now, unsure where this was going, but hoping this was the end to my torture. I was no longer restrained, but the priests we passed in the hall kept my urge to run at bay. Sure I was faster, but I was easily outnumbered and would never make it to the door.
A petite woman, who refused to make eye contact, walked past as we entered. I nearly screamed at the figure looming over her. It was like someone took a person and stretched them, their features blurred out like a painting someone poured water on. “There’s hot chocolate waiting on your desk, Your Excellency.”
“Thank you.” He dismissed her with a wave and gestured to a chair across from him at the desk. Two cups of cocoa were waiting, like he’d had this planned all along. Strange. To distract myself, I glanced around. Everything about the office screamed money. So much for the church giving back, they used it on themselves. The furniture was made from a polished dark wood, most of it easily weighing more than both of us combined. Every tome that lined his bookshelves looked older than Jesus himself.
He went to the fireplace and added another log before going to his chair. His face was grim as he stared into the flames, his gray hair trimmed and tidy every other time I’d seen him was now disheveled. Like he’d run his fingers through it many times. “Have some.” The mug was gently placed in front of me, and I was more than a little suspicious. “It’s safe, I promise.”
I didn’t bother to tell him that his words meant nothing to me, instead I took a sip of the rich drink. My stomach churned uneasily as he watched me over his own mug. Pale green eyes studied me, and I shifted in my seat, putting my mug down and waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Let me be frank with you, Harlow. I did approve of this because of the information presented to me. Now I am not in agreement, and we will be evaluating your situation again. I am not so outdated that I discount the impact of mental health. With your background and previous trauma, it’s not at all surprising.”
My cheeks warmed at the mention of my past, knowing damn well he’d read every inch of my files, likely including my therapy notes.
I shivered, but it was not from being cold and wet, thanks to the latest round of holy water. Instead, it was from how deeply he was trying to study me, to find cracks in my armor. His frown deepened at my discomfort, and that threw me off more than anything.