Sunblocked Summerhouse Read online

  He climbed into bed and thought about Wynne. He'd have to convince her to explain.

  Tomorrow.

  Chapter Eleven

  The lights were working perfectly now. She awoke with all of them brightly lit. Wynne sighed with relief. She had been worrying that she had gone from one infected building, dripping with ghosts, to another. Her long legs slid into her pants, and she immediately realized they were two inches too short. She tried not to think about it.

  She was thin too, much more than she had been before. Her jeans now gaped at the waistline.

  The past needed to stay behind her.

  She tried to focus on the present. "Calleo, I've made you dinner," she hollered.

  Wynne opened a can of tuna, the scent now permeating the room. Calleo came hesitantly, his white eyes with their black pupils staring at her. He was hostile. It was unnerving, not just that his face was so much different with the colorless irises, but the way he stared. As if he thought she was contagious.

  She slid the tuna onto a plate for him instead of on the floor. He didn't purr, instead walking forward with his tail low to the ground. His back arched, and he was baring his teeth at her. Wynne tried not to take the hostility personally, but scowled. Calleo carefully reached his paw out and pulled the plate toward him, farther from the girl.

  "Fine. I'll leave," she said with an angry tone in her voice. It hurt; she no longer could talk with Pear, and the cat hated her. He immediately hissed at her while she left the kitchen. She went up to her room and noticed the badly scrawled scrap of paper sitting on her bed.

  I want to play with you Wynne.

  From Pear.

  Her blood ran cold. How did Pear get this note to her? Did the child use the devil inside her to reach across the world and drop her a note? How had she done it? There was an odd familiarity from it, though. As if she had seen it before.

  She stared at the paper, flipped it over, and on the other side was a drawing of Pear and Calleo. Calleo still had colored eyes. Wynne suddenly remembered that she had been using this scrap as a bookmark. She hadn't seen the back of it in a while. She didn't remember Pear's note, but… surely it had been there this whole time.

  But how had it gotten on the bed?

  She turned and found the book on the floor. It was one of the exorcism guides. It had been pushed behind the chair and torn open. There were long claw marks from the cat. Calleo. Wynne pressed her lips tightly together in a moment of fury.

  This was not a note from Pear anymore; it was a message from Calleo. "Calleo! I know that Pear needs me, but what can I do? I'm not an exorcist! They won't let me talk to her!" Her voice bounced around the room angrily. But it was to no avail; he’d never hear her.

  She knew the child needed help. But Calleo's message was unbearably hurtful, just like his hostility.

  She never even looked at the page he tore. The top said, “St. Peter’s Guide to Exorcism.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Gregory rapped lightly on the door, and it only took a moment before Wynne answered.

  "I want to know what happened to your cat. I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about it," Gregory blurted out. "I've been reading this book where it says that cats can see spirits… I know you don't believe this stuff—but you do have that Ouija board." His words were coming out like a waterfall, tumbling out.

  Wynne stared at him wide-eyed. "What did you say?"

  "Cats, they can see the layers of the afterlife. There's always a little bit of bleed-through, sometimes more than others. Especially… in places like this house," said Gregory as he stepped into the little entry way, trying to hand her the book he was holding. The pages fluttered with the force of him handing it to her.

  "Bleed-through," said Wynne, testing the words on her lips. She hadn't really considered what to call it. "Like layers of a painting. The layer underneath might not have the full picture,” said Wynne, contemplating how this idea transformed her earlier experience.

  "What happened to your cat?" said Gregory. His eyes were wide and he was absolutely convinced she was going to tell him.

  "I don't think we should talk about it,” said Wynne hesitantly. "I don't even know what to tell you."

  Gregory stared at the gorgeous girl with the long, straight hair. "Okay, but then can I use your Ouija board?" Gregory begged. "We could do it together." He grinned his most winning smile.

  "Why?" asked Wynne, and her hair was standing straight up. She did not think this was a good idea. Her heart was pounding a warning in her ears. She just wanted to rescue Pear.

  "Please?" Gregory said. They heard a clunk in the hallway behind them. Calleo dropped what he was holding and ran to Gregory, purring as he walked in a figure eight between his legs. Then he ran back to the item he was laboriously dragging towards them. It was the Ouija board.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Wynne stared at the box and whispered, "No. We can't do this. What if she comes back?"

  "Who?" said Gregory, excitement brewing in his voice. "I haven't talked to a ghost, not in a long time. Tell me who we are going to contact."

  When Wynne heard him, she shook her head. "I'm not telling. We aren't going to do this." Calleo hissed at her.

  But it was too late; Gregory was already determined. He marched down the hallway, through the kitchen, and into the formal dining room. It took him mere moments to set up the board and light one of the blood-red candles. Wynne whispered, "She's too powerful. Please don't wake her up. Don't let her know where we are."

  "Don't worry. I've got this. I've dealt with ghosts before,” said Gregory. He had a confident smile to her terrified hesitance. He reached over and took her hand. "Give me a chance." Then he placed her hand on the Planchette with his. He stared at her as she trembled. She tried to gain strength from him.

  "Are there any spirits present?" asked Gregory and slowly the glass slid to yes. Gregory had an excited grin permanently formed on his face. He didn't expect it to work so easily.

  "Will you talk with us?" said Gregory.

  The glass slid again to yes.

  "Have you possessed this cat?" asked Gregory. His voice was trembling with excitement. He glanced at Wynne and the terror on her face. She looked like she was holding her breath, and her eyes were shut tight.

  The glass hesitated but then moved to no very slowly.

  "Have you possessed Wynne?" he asked. The glass slid to the word yes. He looked up at the girl quizzically, then back down the message. Wynne had her eyes shut and didn't see.

  For the first time, Wynne asked the ghost the question. "Do you possess Pear?" There was a certain accusatory tone, as if Wynne was overly confident in her answer. The glass slid to no. Wynne burst into tears. "Turn it off; there is no hope."

  Gregory stared up at her. "Pear?" He quickly slid the glass to goodbye.

  "The Glassco girl.” She looked down at her hand and then looked back up at the boy.

  "I think that you are in more trouble than her,” said Gregory.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Wynne pressed her hand into her face and sobbed. "What do you mean?"

  Gregory tried to console her. "I think… I think we can handle this. I think we will be absolutely okay. Whatever is in you, we can get it out." He scooted closer to the tall girl and threw his arm around her shoulder. The gesture was awkward, as though he had never attempted to hug a girl before in his entire life, but Wynne didn't notice. She was still mid-weeping. "We are gonna be okay."

  "I don't think we can get rid of it. You're right; Calleo used to have odd-eyes, one yellow one green. And now, the little girl I was nannying, she has odd eyes." She sat up suddenly and stopped wailing. Her voice lifted another octave higher. "What about my eyes?" The last question was practically a shriek.

  She stood frantically and ran to the nearest mirror.

  But her eyes were still brown.

  "How did you get rid of her?" asked Gregory. He had followed her to the mirror in her bathroom. He wasn't sure how to re
spond to her behavior.

  He was staring at her staring at herself in the mirror. There was awkwardness hanging in the air between them.

  "Calleo… he… we pushed her through the layer. And back to wherever it is that ghosts go,” Wynne said nervously. "Into hell, I think." She flicked her eyes at Gregory. He reached up and shoved his long, sandy hair out of his face.

  "You helped push?" asked Gregory with no regard to how strange the topic of conversation was.

  "Yes, but Pear did most of it. It's in her eyes now. So… How can I…" And she burst into tears again. She could not get it together. She was so afraid. She clearly remembered her body stretching out into a hulking monster. And chasing Pear around the penthouse. The idea that it was still inside her terrified her. What if… what if she could never lead a normal life again?

  "Well, I've read a lot about exorcism,” said Gregory calmly. "I also know a guy who kinda dabbles in the sort of thing. I'll give him a call and we will come back tomorrow night. You and I, Calleo; we will figure it out."

  "I don't want to awaken it further,” said Wynne and she stood and pointed towards the door. "I think it's been enough for tonight. Thank you for coming, Gregory. It's time for you to go." Gregory awkwardly stood and shrugged and shuffled his way out the door.

  Wynne started gasping as soon as the door swung shut. Her heart was crashing inside her chest and the air from the room seemed thin. She closed her eyes and dry heaved. How could Gregory imply that she still had a ghost inside her? She couldn’t.

  How dare he. She picked up the Ouija board and tossed it in the trash with shaking hands. Calleo sat on the kitchen counter and stared at the Ouija board. He had an arrogance about him, something she always hated about the cat. He somehow managed to stand in a room as though everyone else was beneath him. Wynne marched to the bathroom and stared at her eyes again. But they still looked perfectly brown. She could not be possessed.

  But her shirt seemed even shorter than it had this morning. A tiny bit of flesh between her pants and midriff was starting to show. She looked at her hands and stretched her arm to see if they seem abnormally long. They seemed the same; nothing was changing. Then she turned and looked at her outfit again, and her jeans were definitely shorter. They came just above her ankle when she put them on this morning. When she bought them, she bought them long enough to touch the floor while she walked, and now they were ankle-length. Or… this morning, they were ankle-length. Now they didn't quite touch her ankle.

  She put the entire thought out of her mind and decided to take a shower.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gregory hurried to his little apartment and quickly called his friend. "Hey, Mike?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I have a bit of an issue,” said Gregory, running his fingers through his sandy hair. "I think it's a real one. I think it's a real ghost this time. It’s… inside a girl."

  "A possession,” said Mike. He sounded like an older man, with a firmness to his voice. He seemed to be extremely confident about the situation, despite having barely heard a sentence.

  "Can you help?" asked Gregory, cutting straight to the chase.

  "Of course. You know my fee,” said Mike.

  Chapter Sixteen

  In the morning, Wynne took the pants and shirt and shoved them into the trash can. Obviously, they were shrinking. No other explanation for the problem. She begged herself to believe it while jamming them in the trash bin. She slipped into a pair of shorts. Her mind was playing tricks on her. She didn't want to think about what would happen if she grew and stretched herself out. Would she be like silly putty? Grow until she was big as Alice in Wonderland, dwarfing the house?

  Would she have to stick her arm inside the window and beg for someone to give her the magic drink that would shrink her back down?

  She didn't want to think like that. She didn't want to think about being possessed at all. Calleo would still not come near her.

  But finally, the doorbell rang, giving her a break from the terrible thoughts.

  She answered the door and the first thing Gregory said when she opened the door was, "Did you grow?" His mouth was agape.

  Immediately, she shoved him. "No." She started to shut the door, leaving him outside.

  But before the door could shut completely, a large army boot shoved its way between the door and its closure. "I'm Mike,” said the man. He was older, much older than either of them. His hair was gray and still had specks of black in it. It was combed back neatly. Then he had a red backpack on his back. "Gregory told me all about you, Wynne." He pushed gently on the door with his right arm and Wynne stepped back and let him enter. There was a sense of authority from the man, as though he was more smug than Calleo.

  "I'm here to help,” said Mike. Gregory slipped in after him and led the trio down the hallway, through the kitchen to the formal dining room. Mike walked to the table and set down his red backpack. He unzipped it and carefully started picking out several objects.

  "Help how?" she said, her eyes slanted slits of suspicion.

  "Gregory told me that your cat is not possessed, but you are." Mike cleared his throat slightly, pulling out another bundle of things that Wynne didn't particularly recognize. There was an assortment of plants, jars, and a crystal ball. The last thing he pulled out was a large silver mirror. "I find this to be inaccurate. I've never seen a single cat that wasn't at least a little possessed," Mike said with a smirk.

  Wynne drew back, glaring at the man. He was setting up the large silver mirror to stand on the center of the table. She could see his fluffy stomach shifting under his button-up shirt.

  "I can't tell if you're trying to be funny,” said Wynne. Her tone was flat, and she was particularly unhappy. Mike seemed like a powerful authority, like meeting a principal. But he didn't seem like he was going to be able to help her. For one, Calleo had not come by at all. He did not greet the new strange man. Wynne wondered suddenly if this was why she liked Gregory so much, since Calleo had given her permission.

  As if her thought of the cat conjured him forth, Calleo suddenly stood in the doorway, looking in nervously. He sniffed at the air, then stared at Mike. Immediately, he trotted over to Gregory and did a figure eight around his feet, purring intensely. But then as Mike lifted a thin blood-red candle out of his backpack, the cat let out a hiss. His tail went straight up in the air, the tiniest tip of it flickering back and forth, when he suddenly ran for his life.

  Wynne was immediately covered with goosebumps.

  "You scared the cat,” said Gregory with a frown. He was starting to really grow on the cat, and he became uncomfortable with the idea that Calleo would be running around scared. "What's the plan, Mike?"

  "The plan is simple." He carefully set the candle in front of the mirror. He stood on the chair and hung the crystal ball. It was faceted on all sides, so when the light shone through, it lit up the room like a disco ball. It only took a few moments for him to set it all up. The candle, the crystal ball, and the mirror. "I'm ready. Come have a seat." He carefully took the plant clippings, branches, leaves, and assortment of other stuff that he had and laid them in orderly rows in front of him, the way a doctor would arrange scalpels and other surgical instruments. He lifted the first one and said, "First, we will purify you with sage."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gregory confidently watched his friend set up, completely oblivious to Wynne's reluctance to the entire affair. "Nothing else you need, Mike?"

  "No, sir,” said the older man with a firm authoritative voice. He was the kind of man you expected to lead in the military, not dabble in exorcism.

  "Let's turn off the lights and come have a seat." He motioned for Wynne to sit at the head of the table. She sat with her arms crossed and her eyes tiny little slits of anger. He lit the candle directly in front of her and in front of the candle was the mirror reflecting the light up to the crystal ball. Little tiny dots of flickering light lingered on all the walls. Mike smiled at Wynne, noticing her discomfort
. "Don't worry; this won't hurt you, or it."

  "I'm not worried that we will hurt it,” said Wynne, her face in a tight little line. "Are we even sure that I'm possessed?"

  "You heard the Ouija board,” said Gregory.

  "Sure, but I've heard a lot of weird things. That doesn't mean that I'm possessed,” said Wynne furiously. She pointed at Gregory and her hand seemed unexpectedly longer than it should be. She fumbled and pulled her arm back in. There was a steady ache in her bones and joints. She attributed this aching to the painful stretching and growth of her bones that was suddenly happening. Her shirt had gotten loose around the waist as if her body had pulled thin in the middle. She swallowed. "Okay. Do your best."

  "How do we start?" said Gregory.

  Mike picked up one of the branches and held it over the candle. It caught fire. Smoke started to pour from the branch in a long slow and steady burn. "Blessed be the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. This is a time of remembrance. And to this we will become. Spirit of the Lord God is the only spirit welcome here. So I say to you, child of God, tell me the name of the one inside you," he said.

  Wynne's stomach tightened painfully. Like a large belch, a single word came bursting out her throat that she was completely unprepared to say. The word came out like vomit. "Boy."

  "Boyd?" asked Gregory. He was grinning. "That's an old-fashioned name."

  "I'm not sure that's what she said,” said Mike, looking around nervously. "Did you say boy?"

  "Boy is not a name,” said Gregory logically, then he turned and stared at Wynne. "Wynne, do you know what you just said?"