Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board

Alternate Epilogue - Part 6

We drove across town with Trey thrashing around in the bed of Henry's pick-up truck, crudely held in place by more strips of duct tape securing him to the truck's aluminum body. I barely breathed throughout the entire drive, worried that I might look in the rearview mirror and see Trey's body levitating back there, or that we might be pulled over by the cops at any given moment and questioned about why we were transporting one of our peers in such an inhumane manner during a snowstorm.

When we arrived with Trey, Violet unhappily informed us that she had prepared a bedroom on the third floor by removing all of the furniture other than the bed. It took the full strength of me, Henry, and Mischa to lug Trey's body up three flights of stairs. The demon inside of him must have known what we were planning to do, because Trey's body went slack and then contracted into a ball repeatedly, causing all of us to lose our hold on him more than once. It was shocking to me how much weight Trey had lost since the last time I'd seen him. I wondered if the demon had been allowing him to eat at all while he'd been away at school.

"How long is this going to take?" Violet asked us with her arms crossed over her chest once we'd dropped Trey on the mattress in the bedroom. Unbelievably enough, he seemed to be loosening the duct tape around his wrists. It was only a matter of time before he broke free—and I didn't want to be confined in that room with him when he did.

I shrugged in response to Violet's question. Father Fahey hadn't answered his phone when we'd called the St. Monica's rectory and left a message. There was a possibility that the church office's receptionist had left early to get home, and Father Fahey was ignoring calls to the main line. Through the bedroom's one small window, I could see that the falling snow was so thick that the roads must have been treacherous. "Not too long," I lied, reaching for the booklet of prayers in my back pocket. Panic was rising within me about the possibility of having to drive the demon out of Trey's body on my own, without help.

Trey was grunting and kicking in my direction. "I thought you said he was coming after me," Violet snapped suspiciously. "It seems like he's a lot angrier at you." She put her hands on her hips and glared at me. "You know what I think? I think you lied to me, McKenna Brady. Whatever it is you're about to do, I don't think I want you doing it in my house."

I rolled my eyes at her and turned to Henry, the peacekeeper, for assistance. Having no love for Violet since Mischa and I had just explained to Henry the role that she'd played in his sister's death, he replied sharply, "Fine. We'll be on our way then, and you can deal with Trey on your own. I don't believe we've formally met. I'm Olivia's brother, Henry. You might remember meeting me at Olivia's birthday party."

Scowling, Violet threw her arms up in the air. "Trey Emory is not my problem!"

"This is all your fault, Violet. Therefore, it's your problem," Mischa stated matter-of-factly.