Page 35 of The Preacher's Pet

I cup my hands over my face and close my eyes. The sensation of their hands all over my body feels so real, it’s as though I’m recalling an actual memory rather than a dream. I’ve never dreamed so vividly before. It was as though they’d been there with me.

Like it had happened for real.

I remember all the jars of strange items I’d seen on the shelves in their hangout spot—powders and herbs and darker things, like chicken’s feet. There had been a huge granite pestle and mortar, and candles that looked like blood dripping down them. What did they do with those things? It looked like the kind of things people would use to conduct magic.

Is that what happened? Could they have used magic to insert themselves into my dreams?

Or was that all me, and I’m just looking for some way to assuage my guilt?

Opheeeeeliiiaaaaa.

No, no, no.

He can’t be in my head now. But of course he is; what did I expect? He’s here because I’m being so bad.

Sinner.The voice says the word with guttural disgust.Whore.

I slam my hands over my ears and start to softly sing, but I can still hear him.

You’re a bad girl. You shouldn’t be doing things like that. Feeling nice between your legs is wrong. Do you know what happens to girls like you? They end up burning forever in a lake of fire. Do you want to spend eternity screaming in agony in flames, Ophelia?

I have my eyes squeezed tightly closed, but his image starts to form from the vague colors I can see behind my eyelids, so I open them again, staring at the wall, begging him to leave me alone.

“Go away,” I say firmly. “I don’t want you here. Not anymore.”

Oh, Ophelia, you’ll never get rid of me. I’ll always be with you.

He’s fading now, though. As my panic starts to abate, his presence lessens until I can’t feel him in the room. Finally, he’s gone. No longer in my head, but always in my damn soul.

Is he right? Will I never get rid of him? Is this my penance for leaving?

More than anything on this Earth, I want him to leave me alone.

Then I think of that altar in that strange abode. The Preachers do magic, don’t they? And magic is bad, it’s wicked, but maybe … maybe they can help me? Perhaps their magic will prove to be stronger than his presence.

Oh, my word, maybe they can rid me of him? It would mean telling them I hear his voice, of course, and I’m not sure I want to tell anyone. People who hear voices get put away in institutions, don’t they? That’s what I read once. It’s why it scares me so much. I bet Cain wouldn’t do anything like that, though. Could I tell him? Malachi helped me, too, with my panic attack. Perhaps he’d help with this.

No, I can’t. Inviting dark magic into my life would be a terrible thing to do, even if it freed me of my angry, dark ghost.

I’m stuck with him. For however long he wants to haunt me. For now, though, he’s faded back into the silence.

With a sigh that comes from the very depths of my lungs, I fall back against my pillows. I want to will myself into a dream-free sleep, but the other part of me hopes that when I close my eyes again, three masked men will be waiting for me.

19

ROMAN

The past coupleof days have dragged since I had the talk with Malachi. It’s already midweek, and I haven’t had a chance to speak with him again. The way he’d dismissed me has made me angry, and while I want to put things straight between us, I haven’t wanted a confrontation. I guess he’s feeling the same way, as he seems to be avoiding me.

Doesn’t he see I’m trying to help us all?

I’m the one who takes the time to try to decipher what the universe wants from us. When he said I wasn’t the leader of us all, it wasn’t true. I am, in many ways.

I started this, after all. I was doing this before I met the other two. They joined me in the world I’ve made, and now what? They are going to turn on me, over a girl. One Cain hasn’t seen for years, and Malachi just set eyes on and went stupid over.

My room is suffocating me this morning, a zoo cage today, rather than my safe space. I glance at the time on my phone. It’s mid-morning, so classes will be in full flow. It means the hallways and walkways of the college should be empty. I decide to go out and get some fresh air. Try to clear my bad mood.

A walk in nature will do me good and perhaps show me a way of communicating my discomfort to Cain. Now that Malachi hasfailed to see what I’m trying to show him, Cain is my last chance to talk some sense into my fellow Preachers.

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