Headcanoned with and beta-ed by graceonce
Music: Numb by Marina and the Diamonds
Lana wasn't allowed to room at the cathedral with the sisters and so she'd headed home and at the blonde's insistence, had let her come too. The girl had no want to stay inside the church, shivering when the brunette had found her in the chapel, down on her knees and crying silently. Ribbons hung from her nails, and for a moment Lana had wondered who she'd clawed. but she'd only torn skin from her own forearms, the wounds bleeding onto the floor. But she had no scars, no scrapes. She'd picked herself off the floor, pushing away Lana's help.
The brunette had ignored the marks seared into the nearby wooden cross.
It'd been so long since she'd been in her own apartment and she profusely apologized for the mess, but the blonde had only smiled as she'd followed her in shyly.
"Kitchen over here, though you know I can't cook. Bathroom, and bedroom. Which you can have tonight, I've only got one bed," Lana told her. "Rent's not easy in the city." She did a little turn on herself. "That's it, I think."
"It's funny, you know?" Mary murmured. "We've known each other almost a year and I've never been here, I didn't even know you lived in this neighborhood."
"We're too busy for the mundane," the brunette teased. She glanced around. "Plus this is basically like living in a shoebox."
"It's comfortable."
Lana smiled and Mary turned away, eyes bright blue.
"You have a nice view."
"Which is why I pay so damn much."
"Language," Mary chastised lightly.
Lana shook her head. "Tea? Coffee? I've got the instant sticks, I can't mess those up."
"I think I just want to rest, Lana."
The brunette nodded. "Let me just get some new sheets for you."
"I can use yours," Mary said softly. "I wouldn't want to trouble you further." She glanced up. "And maybe I want to roll around in your sweat."
Lana breathed in, black eyes tearing from golden ones. "I'll get some sheets."
"Thank you," the blonde murmured back.
Lana wrote while Mary slept in the next room. She climbed up on her kitchen counter, the meager space there was, and she hid in the corner of the room with her notebook on her lap, scribbling into it. The Robichaux case was taking form, she had her introduction, her characters. Characters she wasn't sure now she'd really met, between the Goode woman and her redheaded partner. She circled the word 'peculiar' by their names, then underlined it. Something to stress.
The spirit itself had been easy. It'd held onto the child for a moment, almost as if begging, as Bes's lovers usually did. But it'd given up, Mary's voice soothingly sweet though the Latin was nothing but threats, golden eyes blazing. It was a blue gaze that had told the creature it'd be alright. Lana had felt her heart constrict then, the girl's compassion shining through her torture.
Mary had told her the same thing the first time they'd met.
Lana'd been late that cloudy day, Father Timothy's directions to the home more than vague, her purpose to the afternoon still truly unexplained. Though she hadn't cared, she was a writer and the church would pay her. She'd write The Even Newer Testament if it meant she could eat, no matter the heresy.
The front door had been left open and she'd walked in carefully, the blonde at the end of the hallway looking up, surprised and perhaps scared. Names had been exchanged and she'd relaxed.
And Lana had seen her first exorcism.
A young boy, eleven or twelve, blood pouring out his mouth and screaming obscenities that had made Lana flush a whole set of colors. Her whole past divulged in a matter of minutes.
She was shaking when it was over, no more and no less than the young nun, and Mary had uttered those words, hand to her shoulder.
"It'll be alright."
She'd been so sure of herself, even with tears streaming down her own face and her knees knocking together in fright. The brunette had known from that moment that the girl was weak, naive, but so undoubtedly strong in her belief of God and men. Of experiences. It had surprised her, awed her into a lingering silence she wasn't able to shake off that night.
She'd signed the father's contract the next morning, Mary's faith coursing through her veins.
But now Lana wasn't so sure anything was alright. Or would be.
Her pen ran but no ink came forth, words trailing off, and she bit at the inside of her cheek. She hadn't bought any refills before New Orleans. She glanced towards her room; Mary seemed to be sleeping and so she climbed down onto her linoleum floor, slipping into her shoes.
The day was entirely colder than their stay in the south had been and her scarf was woolen, green like the dress Mary had been wearing the day she bought it. Then she'd been laughing carelessly, blue eyes bright and breath clouding in front of her as Lana had held the garment up to her, comparing the hues.
When she came back to her apartment the girl was sitting where she'd been, on the counter and with her gaze turned outside. She didn't shift when Lana closed the door.
"I went out. You were asleep so I figured I could," the brunette started. She shoved her scarf into the tiny space she called her closet. "I got breakfast. Or, dinner. Breakfast for dinner. I went to the bakery."
"A woman after my own heart." Mary looked to her, smiling, and Lana breathed out. "Pain au chocolat?" she asked, hope tainting her features.
"What else? And I've got chocolate bars in the cupboards," Lana confided. "You can make it an extra chocolate pain au chocolat." The blonde giggled lightly, hiding in her shoulder, and Lana shook her head. "You know my accent is horrid."
"I like it."
The brunette smiled as she placed her purse on the counter. "Come on, hop off. I'll get some plates out." Her eyebrows raised and she turned to slip her coat off. "If my mom were here she'd ask if Merlot went well with what we're gonna have."
"Lana?"
"Yes."
"You don't have a kitchen table."
The woman turned back around, flushing. "Oh, uh, no. I don't. Usually I eat on the counter, when I'm alone. There's enough space for that. I have the floor to offer you."
"Like children," Mary said, smiling. She slid off the counter and Lana moved past her to grab two plates, two glasses. The chocolate.
They sat with their backs to the wall, Lana's head tilted back and her knee up to her chest while Mary crossed her legs at her ankles, tugging her skirt down her thighs self-consciously. She ate slower than the brunette, almost thoughtful as she chewed. She picked at her dinner with her thumb and forefinger and brushed crumbs from her knees periodically, and finally she let her head fall to Lana's shoulder, sighing. Lana didn't shift, choosing instead to raise her hand and brush her hair out of the girl's way.
Mary burrowed a little further. "What did Timothy say."
"It's a house case."
"Oh."
"We have to be there in the morning, imperatively."
The girl's frown deepened.
"Are you," Lana paused. "Do you think you're strong enough?"
"I'm as strong as I can be," the blonde muttered. "I'll only get weaker as the days pass. As the days have passed." She closed her eyes when Lana pressed a kiss in her hair. The brunette's fingers passed through sunshine kissed strands and she placed her cheek to the girl's head.
"You're very strong still," she whispered.
"I wish I could believe you." Mary glanced up. She began stammering. "You'll tell me if you need to sleep, right? I know I slept earlier and I'm not tired now but I don't want to impede on your rest whatsoever. This is your home after all and-" Lana silenced her, intertwining their fingers.
"I'm fine right here, if you are."
The blonde nodded lowly. She looked down to their hands. "Thank you." Sun shone in her golden eyes, her scowl light. "I wish I could say it was your sins that fueled you on now. Fueled you to help."
Lana breathed out. "You can't?"
"God touched your heart when it comes to her. Me. Your ulterior motives are..." she trailed off.
"I don't have any ulterior motives. She knows that."
Mary scowled fully. "As do I," she snapped. And she softened. "As do I."
It was a rude morning to Lana, her eyes narrowed against the rising sun and her mouth turned down in a grimace, the instant coffee almost as disgusting as what she'd make herself. Mary had declined and Lana watched her from the counter as she prayed to the morning light, down on her knees and rosary swinging from her fists against her chest. An action she still had some peace for.
The blonde held onto a map of Boston and its surroundings, seated in the front seat beside Lana as she studied it with a light frown.
"There should be a dirt road."
"That's all there is around here," Lana sighed. "We've just passed Dullard Street, how far are we now?"
"That was it."
The brunette glanced at her, smiling wryly, and paused on the road to make a u-turn, tires raising dust behind them. She took the right that had previously been a left, fingers tapping against the wheel.
"Number twenty-two," Mary informed her. "Evens on the right," she added, looking outside.
"Twenty-two Dullard Street. How dull."
The blonde shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "Not everyone can live in downtown Boston."
"I don't either," Lana sighed. "But how I wish I did."
Mary glanced at her curiously. "Really?"
"Wouldn't you?"
The girl shrugged. "I like your place."
Lana's eyebrow quirked. "Your vow of poverty, Miss McKee?"
"I'd feel out of place, I think. With the lavish lifestyle they keep there."
"I'd swim in it," the brunette said, suddenly serious. Mary shifted beside her. "I'd want it. I'd want the recognition for all the shit I'd gone through to get there. I have gone through." She looked to her passenger. "Don't you want to be recognized for what you've done? For what you're doing?"
The blonde looked back out the window. "Helping people is recognition enough."
"You have that. Helping people. I'm just a writer. And I won't be recognized for anything but my writing, people gushing over my words and my prose. And that's hard. Breaking through with words. It'll take me years, or a miracle. A horrifying miracle. I think I'll have earned my place when I get there, and when I do I'm going to enjoy it."
"You help me plenty, Lana," Mary offered softly.
Lana paused, clicking her tongue. She glanced into the rearview mirror, gaze narrowed. "Sorry."
"Whatever for?"
"For being so selfish. It's not very catholic of me. And it's just a place anyway, isn't it? Downtown?" She laughed lightly, smile returning as she flushed. "Father Timothy talked of ambition, you know?"
"A great trait and a terrible flaw."
"As he said." Lana braked and they came to a slow stop, dust overtaking their windows. "I think this is it."
A solitary mailbox rose out of the ground feet from the hood of the car, a '22' painted on its side, and Mary looked over the green box, its little red flag lying flat on its side. There was no house, but a road trailing off into the distance, a cottage at the end if she squinted hard enough.
"Do you feel up to some exercise?" the brunette asked.
"Your heels are taller than mine."
Lana grinned and reached over into the glove box, fetching her notes as Mary moved back to give her space. "I'm only trying to keep up with you." The blonde shook her head, smile wide, before she climbed out of the car and closed the door behind herself. She waited for Lana to join her at her side before beginning to walk, rosary maddeningly swinging from her fist. The brunette had hers deep in her pocket.
"It's a mom, a dad, and two kids," Lana finally said.
"Why is it always children?" Mary asked softly. The brunette shook her head, throat tight as she let the blonde overtake her. She wanted to speak of innocence, of open hearts, but the girl's rigid bones stopped her. "Is everyone safe?"
"So far," the brunette answered. "They're just scared out of their minds."
"As anybody would be."
Are you? Lana implored. Are you?
Mary glanced at her, suddenly weak-kneed, and her fingers intertwined before her. They were shaking but in her own grasp stilled momentarily. "Would you mind knocking?"
The brunette smiled, breathing out, and she nodded. "Of course. I've got it."
The blonde murmured her gratitude, grasping for her own composure as her fingernails raked along the brunette's elbow. She pulled away to face the cottage, beads sifting through her fingers.
Lana knocked on the door and stepped back, glancing over her shoulder to look at Mary, her gaze narrowed but not unkindly. She only turned back when the door creaked opened and she flashed her best smile. Her TV smile. But there was no one there. She frowned momentarily, her head cocking to the side, and her black eyes traveled down the doorway until she met a hazel gaze.
A child stared back, chestnut hair falling down into his eyes in bangs that hadn't been cut professionally. He threw his head back and his hair shifted back behind his ears.
"Hi," she tried.
"Hi."
"My name's Lana," she continued.
"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," he replied.
Lana nodded. "And I suppose that makes sense. Is your father home?" When the boy only stared back, she smiled lightly, teasingly. "Just nod yes or no, then." He grinned and nodded before stepping back into his home and leaving her at the door, his feet padding on the wood beneath him. Mary stifled a laugh behind her and she shook her head, lips tugging up.
A man came into view, an older version of the child, and he watched them for a moment as he dried his fingers on a towel. He finally placed it into his back pocket and held out his hand.
"Kit Walker."
"Lana Winters."
"You're the," He paused and glanced back over his shoulder, but the child was gone. "You're the exorcist."
"Sister Mary McKee-" Lana turned and motioned to the blonde. "Is the woman you're looking for."
The man nodded. "Sister. It's a pleasure."
"It's all mine, Mr. Walker," she replied.
"Won't you come in?"
Lana let the blonde step in front of her, the girl shy though she towered above both the reporter and the home owner. She waved lightly at the boy who'd, after all, hidden into the couch cushions. The girl next to him waved back instead. She wasn't older than the child, her eyes the same color as his, her nose just as upturned. They looked like his father, and from behind Mary Lana understood what Father Timothy had meant. The girl had dark skin, a contrast to the boy's white tone. Mary's frown wavered but she said nothing, though her gaze shone gold with unshed potential and scathing remarks.
"You want some coffee? Something to eat? Julia here baked cookies this mornin'."
She turned back, blue eyes wavering. "Thank you, you're very kind."
Kit moved to the counter and reached for a tin box. "You kiddin'? It's the least I can do for you showin' up this quick." He glanced sideways. "Hey, kids, ain't there a sand castle you wanted to finish out in the box?"
"Can we have a cookie too?"
"One. Don't spoil your dinner or your mother'll get me."
The two slid off the couch and reached into the tin, though the boy was less hasty in leaving the house, gaze heavy and trained on his father. But he closed the front door behind him with some finality.
"Are they safe?" Kit blurted.
"Mr. Walker?"
"My kids. Are they safe, Sister."
Mary smiled reassuringly and he softened.
"Sorry, I'm on edge about this, you know?"
"There's no need for you to apologize." The blonde took the treat offered to her and passed it to Lana. "Father Timothy wasn't very explicit in his details, could you explain to me what's going on?"
"Didn't have time, did he?" Kit said. "It's pretty fucked up." He glanced up.
"Sorry."
"No worries."
"I've said worse," Lana murmured from behind her baked good.
"And we've seen enough to be able to handle this," the blonde added. "Everything'll be alright, Mr. Walker."
"You sound extremely sure of yourselves," he said dubiously.
"We've done this long enough," Mary replied, smiling. "Explain?"
He nodded and bit into his own cookie, crumbs falling to the countertop. "We're talkin' some kinda, demonic ghost." He shook his head. "I've seen the movies." Mary refrained from correcting him. "It won't let us sleep, whatever it is. It smacks walls and turns lights on and off and it's grabbed at my girl more than once, tugging her out of bed. She's got bruises all over. I'm afraid it won't just be bruises in the near future."
"And your son?"
"He hasn't been touched yet." Kit frowned. "Does that mean anythin'?"
"I can't say," Mary replied. "Your daughter, she's seen this entity?"
"She says she has, yeah."
"Has she described it?"
He shook his head. "She's too scared."
"We'll have to talk to her, Mr. Walker," Lana said softly. "If you don't mind I'll simply take a few minutes with her later today."
He looked between the two women and finally acquiesced. "If it helps." He leaned back on the counter.
"Is there anything else you can tell us?" Mary asked.
"Yeah it, uh, likes to scream? It shrieks. But I have no idea what it's sayin'. The first few nights I just told my kids it was an owl or somethin' but then it started calling my name. They didn't take that super well."
"Name recognition," the blonde murmured. Lana glanced at her, pen tapping against her thigh.
"Can you get rid of it?"
"'It' is a quick term, Mr. Walker. Whatever lives here could be a multitude of creatures and entities, your symptoms are too common. There's no straight answer I can give you until I have a good look. If you'll let us, we'll spend the night here to assess the situation."
Kit nodded between them. "Yeah, yeah sure, of course. Whatever this needs."
"Is there somewhere you can send your children for the night?" Lana asked. The man looked to her, finding her at the window and watching the two kids in the yard.
"My wife's mom lives in town."
"Send them to their grandma's, then," the brunette said. She turned. "And you? Got anywhere to stay?"
He glanced at the blonde. "I'd like to stay."
Mary bit the inside of her cheek, blue eyes finding black ones. "That isn't something I'd recommend." She wrung her fingers together. "It's not always safe."
"It's never safe," Lana corrected.
"I'll be careful. Please," Kit said. "This is my family we're talking about. I can't stand by and do nothin'. It was already embarassin' enough to have to call you guys, bein' able to do jack shit myself. Sorry Sister."
Mary implored Lana with a glance but the brunette wouldn't meet her gaze, her own on the young man. She sighed. "Do what you will, Mr. Walker." He expressed his gratitude with a strong handshake and went to pull her in but refrained, suddenly awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot.
"You wanted to talk to Julia, right?" he asked Lana. "I'll get Thomas out your way."
She eyed him. "You don't want to sit in on me speaking with her?"
"I can trust you, can't I?"
He moved past her and into the front yard, leaving the door open, the breeze flitting through.
Lana's shoulder bumped into Mary's. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm tired," the girl said softly. "But I feel physically strong. Which is ironic. Or maybe it's an oxymoron."
"It's neither," the brunette replied. "Physically?"
"Like I'm being fed." She felt the older woman shudder against her. "But it's not off of you today. There's something stronger here than your sins." She closed her eyes. "Is it a terrible thing if I say I like this surge of power?"
"As long as it doesn't feel like touching a live wire."
"Ms. Winters? Julia's out by the swings."
"Thanks." She let her hand fall down Mary's back. "I'll be done soon. Be careful." She reached up, intending to leave a kiss to the blonde's cheek, but Kit's gaze burned into her back and she clicked her tongue instead. Her heels clacked on the hardware floor before they padded on soft grass.
The swing by the girl's was empty and she sat down in it gingerly, weight dipping the leather down, her heel running grooves into the dirt. Thomas had been led inside by his father, hand in his.
"I'm Lana."
"I'm Julia Walker. I'm in first grade."
"A big girl, then?"
"Well I'm not a baby anymore." The girl scrunched her nose. "I have a friend who has a baby brother. He's really small and he can't do anything but cry. And he's ugly. Do you have a baby?"
"No, I don't."
"Why not?"
"I just don't."
"It's okay, Ms. Winters. I don't like babies either."
"Do you know why I'm here, Julia?"
"For the ghost." She glanced up, frowning lightly. "Right?"
"Your father told me it bothers you. Can you tell me how?" Lana waited as Julia considered. "I'm here to help."
"She likes to whisper in my ear."
The brunette reached for her notebook but left it in her pocket, afraid to scare the girl off. It would be almost too adult of a reaction from her. Her hand fell back to her lap. "She?" Julia nodded softly. "Do you know what she looks like? Have you seen her?"
"She only speaks to me and touches me. I haven't seen her. Not really. Just wisps of smokes and bright eyes."
Lana squirmed. "Touches you?"
"Yeah, she grabs my foot and pulls. Or she ties my hair to the bed." Julia looked down. "We had to cut off a few inches because daddy couldn't untie me." Lana glanced over the girl, berating herself when she realized she hadn't noticed the handful of curls shorter than the others. "She says it's my fault."
The brunette glanced sharply at her. "Your fault?"
"I don't know what she means," Julia said quickly. "I haven't done anything."
"I didn't say you did," Lana assured her. "But think hard, you're sure you don't know what she means?"
"Most of the time she doesn't speak in English ," the girl muttered. "I have no idea."
The woman let her hand trail to Julia's hair, patting her curls tame. "Thank you for speaking with me. You did great."
"I like talking. I just wish it was about something else."
"Me too, darling." Lana looked to the house, suddenly feeling watched, and a pair of hazel eyes stared back from behind one of the windows. "He's a quiet one, isn't he? A little pensive?"
Julia looked up.
"Your brother," Lana added.
"He is thoughtful, daddy says. But he talks. Just not lately," the girl replied. She continued to swing lightly. "His mama died."
The brunette's foot stopped its digging. "Oh."
"Yeah. She just, wasn't there to wake us up one morning. Daddy said she had an accident." Julia glanced back over her shoulder. "We buried her out in the yard."
"I'm sorry."
Julia shrugged, pushing Lana's comment away. And the brunette knew she was dealing with it, albeit silently, and that she wouldn't talk again. She left her there, swinging in the breeze, unable to give anything more than a comforting squeeze to the girl's shoulder. She'd only ever dealt with coming loss, not loss felt.
Kit had left his front door unlocked and Thomas ran past her when she entered, glancing back momentarily to frown at her. He disappeared to his sister's side.
Mary's hands were in the air as she stood in the far hallway, her blue eyes closed and her golden head thrown back, and Kit watched from the sofa in the living room, worry in his frown, looking so much like his son. He let Lana sit at his side, moving so she could be more comfortable.
He scratched at his chin, gaze on the floor. "I hate to ask, but what's she doin'?" he whispered.
"I don't really know. It's complicated," she admitted. "Feeling for something. Lost souls is my guess."
Kit shifted his weight, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back on the couch. "You, uh, you follow her 'round, then? You with the church too? Like a guardian or somethin'?"
Lana glanced at him. "I'm not ordained, but yes. A guardian of some sorts. I make sure she doesn't get into trouble."
"That sounds like a heck of a job to be paid for."
"It's a perk. I'm a journalist," she precised. "Her journalist." He nodded but didn't seem to understand. She didn't continue.
"How long you been doin' this? You two look comfortable with each other," he added. "But you don't seem to really know what's goin' on either."
"Maybe I simply prefer not to divulge. Maybe there's nothing to tell."
"Fair enough."
"Lana?"
The brunette glanced up into a blue gaze, the noon sun throwing gold into the girl's eyes. She excused herself to Kit in a whisper and crossed to where the blonde stood. She'd turned her back to her.
"Are you hungry? I think I'm hungry," Mary murmured.
"Mary?"
The girl turned her gaze on her, inquisitive. "Would you like to get lunch?"
Lana frowned but the blonde ran her nails down her hand, raking deep, squeezing tight, and she nodded. "It's a good idea." Mary walked towards Kit who'd stood after Lana, hands deep in his backpockets as he watched them carefully like a lost child. He was so young.
"I have a few things to fetch and lunch to grab, but we'll be back before sundown," the blonde told him. "Thank you so much for your hospitality, Mr. Walker, and for you letting us into your home."
"I called you here," he pointed out.
"I meant the church," Mary confessed. "I think we both know that we're not welcome everywhere on a range of topics."
"I called you here, Miss McKee. You're doin' me one hell of a favor," Kit repeated. "Drive safe when you come back, alright? The road can get slippery when it rains. And it looks like it might rain."
The girl's back was rigid until they were far from the cottage, two pairs of childish eyes gazing them over. Lana's fingers itched to press to her back to support her.
"Thank you," Mary breathed. "For letting me leave so fast. I was being suffocated. Smothered."
"Are you alright?" Lana asked lowly.
The blonde closed her eyes, letting the older woman guide her down the driveway. "I'm calm, Lana. That house is, so powerful. It's being fed, it's keeping calm. But the power is breath halting."
"Was it feeding you still?"
Mary glanced at her, confused.
"You said when we first walked in that you were being fed. By something else than," Lana swallowed, "Me. It was feeding both you and the entity?"
"Did I?" the girl asked softly. "Well whatever I said, I wasn't wrong."
OOOoooOOO
They passed one other car that night on the dirtroad, an old, beat up pickup truck painted in scabs of blue and orange rust. And though Lana only saw a black woman in the front seat, she couldn't help but know that her daughter and her new son lay splayed in the backseat, sleeping.
Like Mary wanted to sleep next to her.
The girl yawned again, blushing when the brunette glanced at her, and she waved her away before she could ask. "I'm fine."
"You slept last night."
"And this morning," the blonde agreed. She looked outside. "I'll sleep when dawn comes. This is priority."
"I know it is," Lana said.
"Though I wish I'd had more time between New Orleans and here," Mary continued. "But it's priority, right? Demons over me." The brunette scowled. Her left hand left the wheel and she placed her elbow on the window's edge, biting at her thumbnail as she mulled over her words, her mind.
"Don't miss the exit, Lana."
She brought her hand back to the steering wheel, thumb glistening with saliva. She quickly wiped it off in her lap. "Sorry." The fingers on her right hand drummed on the leather but she stopped abruptly, though Mary didn't seem to be listening. But the blonde reached over and intertwined their hands, sighing when Lana did.
"You're never nervous, I always am," Mary murmured. "What's wrong?"
Lana breathed in. "Everything lately, it seems." She tugged Mary's hand off the console and to her lips, pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles before she let go and took the turn she'd missed that morning. The blonde's hand fell to her own knee, picking at the threads on her dress's skirt as the journalist parked, the back of her hand red with lipstick.
"Be careful stepping out, will you?" Lana said. "It's muddy." But she was quick in rounding the car and helping Mary out, gaze on the horizon and her frown deep. She didn't respond when the blonde thanked her and she let the sister overtake her while she rooted in the car's trunk for her equipment. The Walker home guided them with twinkling lights in the falling darkness.
Kit let them in quickly, apologizing for the mess he was trying to clean, building blocks strewn about the stained rug. He pressed the toys to his chest, looking around with a hand to his curls as he scratched errantly.
"I'll go put these away, I'll be right back."
He disappeared into the hallway, rounding the corner, and Mary let out a sigh, eyes narrowing as if she were in pain. Lana thought she could see tears building at her eyelashes.
"The feeling is so different," the girl said. "So potent." She glanced at the brunette. "What it was before was tainted, unpure. This is raw."
"Are you going to be alright?" Lana asked. She stepped closer, shadowing the blonde. "Can you handle this?"
Mary's eyes closed and she fell into the armchair nearest to her, upper body swaying lightly. "Anchor me down," she prayed. Lana replied with a positive hum, unsure if the sister talked to God or her.
Kit came back with his hands in his pockets, as if he didn't know where else to put them, and he watched the blonde for a short moment before clearing his throat. Her eyes snapped open, sky blue, and he smiled awkwardly.
"Sorry, Sister. What's with the bag, Winters?"
Lana glanced down at the duffel at her feet and she prodded it with her the tip of her heel. "We're going to catch a ghost, aren't we, Mr. Walker?"
"You got like, nets in there or somethin'?" he joked.
She shook her head, breaking into a smile. "It's not that simple."
"Wish it was," he answered. "Sister, do you need a glass of water? You're lookin' pale."
"No thank you, I'm quite alright. Lana, will you need help setting up?"
"Stay, I've got this."
She reached for the bag and placed it on the couch before unzipping it, pulling out cameras that Kit eagerly took into his own hands.
He pulled on a string until he reached the end of it. It fell through the end of his fingers and back to the floor. "Trip wires?"
"Corporal forms aren't unheard of."
"Christ."
He let Lana take one of the cameras and one of the tripods she'd miraculously stashed into the duffel somehow and she walked to the corner of the room, surveying the angles before setting them up. She taped them together unceremoniously and the young man watched, unsure, but he didn't mention it.
"You two work alone? With all this equipment?"
Mary shook her head. "If you know of anyone who'd wish to help us, let us know."
"You've got a point. You two are brave souls for doin' this. I know too many men who'd turn tail and run."
The blonde let out a sigh but Kit ignored it.
"Do I have permission to enter your daughter's bedroom?" Lana asked. "If the entity is attached to her, I'll need that room surveyed."
"Go right ahead, yeah. It's down the hall on the left." He watched her leave, hands deep in his pockets. He looked to the blonde and found the girl's blue eyes on the floor, and he sniffed as if he were sick. "So what's gonna happen tonight, Sister."
"We're going to wait for it, and we're going to identify it. It's why Ms. Winters is putting up cameras and voice recorders. And then tomorrow we'll work on a solution, Mr. Walker. Once we know what were up against." She shifted her gaze. "I'm afraid tonight won't be very exciting."
"I'm done with an excitin' life," he muttered. "I've had enough excitement."
"How's Julia?"
He glanced at the blonde. "A little banged up. Bruises, you know? Lots of nightmares. But I think Thomas is more afraid than her."
"How so?"
"He thinks that when it, whatever it is, finally gets to him, it'll be to do things much worse." He scratched at his ear. "I've tried tellin' him it ain't so, but when he's got an idea in his head he won't let it go. The both of them." He looked up. "You think it'll show up even without the kids around?"
"I've got an inkling," Mary murmured.
Lana came back into the room, the roll of tape around her wrist like a bracelet. "That's all of them." She passed Kit, brushing past him. "I hope you made coffee, it's going to be a long night." She leaned into Mary she put away the tape, her cheek rushing across blonde falls. "It'll be alright. Just long," she continued, though her dark eyes were fixed on the nun. The girl nodded weakly.
The brunette settled herself down in the armchair farthest from the coffee table, sharp gaze on the camera in the corner, and Kit followed Mary down onto the couch, rubbing his palms together.
It didn't take long for a book to fall from a shelf, falling face down onto the floor, its spine arched. Kit ignored the noise but Lana fixed her attention on it. To the young man, objects falling in a house where children lived and played was normal. But his kids were long gone.
Mary heard the whispers first when the clock struck one, her head tilting to the left as she listened, Lana's fingers picking at a scab as she watched the girl narrow her eyes, unable to understand. Kit watched, breath baited, and he nodded when the brunette asked if it seemed familiar, her voice low, the whispering lower.
The voice moved through the living room, seemingly hovering over the rug before it moved down into the bedrooms.
"It's sentient," Mary said.
Kit glanced between the women. "Is that good or bad?" The brunette shushed him as she stood and he fell back into the pillows, worry flashing across his features.
A scream tore through the house and Kit shuddered openly, hazel eyes shutting as Mary's grip tightened on her skirt and her knuckles turned white.
The thing continued to wail and Lana tip-toed to the end of the living room, pushing her hair back behind her ear as if it would help.
"Is the camera snapping?" Mary hissed out. The brunette waved her hand at her but nodded as she continued to tread carefully, clicks echoing in the house.
The book suddenly slid across the floor and slammed into her shoe and she yelped despite herself, shaken as she searched for balance. Her black eyes darted up to meet Mary's gaze and the blonde stared back, halfway out of her seat. Kit began to move towards her but she threw her hand up.
"Don't move, Mr. Walker," she warned. "And don't do anything rash."
"You think I would?" he asked. "This is much too excitin' for me already."
"Let it pass through. Let it calm down," she added.
It screamed again as her words fell flat.
Kit let out a sudden yell, doubling over with his arm to his chest, and Mary rushed to his side.
"Où est mon fils!"
His head snapped back as if felled with a blow and he tripped over himself, falling onto his backside with a grunt. The back of his skull cracked onto the floor.
The window panes shook as the creature screamed again, its shrieks ear splitting, and the three of them brought their hands to their ears, Mary's knees buckling beneath her. A rush of wind pushed past them, whipping their bodies forward and pulling Kit back to the floor as he struggled to stand.
The house fell quiet, the boy staring up at the ceiling and Lana with her hand outstretched towards Mary.
They breathed out of sync, chests rising as the house creaked around them painfully, as it settled back into a quiet stupor. As if it'd been slapped across the face and left to wonder. Lana felt as if she'd been hit herself, her fingers shaking before her.
The wood groaned but all they heard now was their respiration.
"Is it over?" Kit asked, voice strangled. "I can't feel my legs. My arm-"
The brunette hurried to his side. "Sit still."
"I can't move," he protested. He let out a sharp cry when she pressed her fingers to his forearm and he pulled back, trying to edge away. "Goddamn it!"
"Is he hurt?" Mary asked. Lana glanced up and the blonde bit the inside of her cheek, looking away. "Did you bring the first aid kit?"
"It's in the duffel."
Kit raised his head as best he could from the carpet. "Should we be movin' around like this?" he hissed. "What with that thin' walkin' around?"
"It's gone for now, Mr. Walker," Mary assured him. "It's used its resources."
"Resources?"
Lana took the bandages that were handed to her. "She means energy. Entities have to store a lot of energy to be able to be heard, seen, or felt, in our world."
"I don't mean to be rude, ladies, you know your jobs and all, but this creature shows up every night. Hasn't it got tired by now?"
"Your demon's holding onto a lot of grief and rage to appear so often," the blonde said. "A lot of anger to appear so loudly and to leave such marks."
Kit followed a blue gaze to his arm and he stared as Lana did. Fingers had punctured his skin as if holding on tight to his arm, pulling him this way and that. Claws that had raked red lines before embedding deep into his flesh.
"We're going to have to wash that out-"
"What, with alcohol?"
"It has to be disinfected."
"Oh god." He looked up. "I don't do wounds, Ms. Winters."
"Grow a spine, Mr. Walker." Lana stood and held out her hand for him to take.
"And here I've always told my kids to suck it up when I cleaned their scrapes. I'm gonna cry ain't I."
"Most likely."
He tittered on his feet and she righted him before pushing him towards the bathroom. He went slowly, his hand to the back of his head and his steps unsure, but Lana held back and turned to face Mary.
"Are you alright?"
The girl nodded, chest rising and falling heavily.
"Do you have any ideas-?"
"It's not a demon."
"That's good."
"No, Lana. There's a demon. But it's not whatever just attacked us."
Black eyes blinked and finally Lana walked away, spine arched as she was sure Mary's was bristling.
Kit was waiting sitting on the toilet when she walked in and he looked up, somewhat lost.
"Not whatever just attacked us?" he echoed lowly.
Lana sighed as she sat on the bathtub's edge. "I can't say yet, Mr. Walker. We have evidence to go through. Mary is simply making a guess."
"An educated guess, I'm sure."
"You weren't supposed to hear," the brunette added. He laughed breathlessly as she reached for the gauze and the rubbing alcohol and he quickly turned serious to Lana's amusement. He gritted his teeth when she cleaned his wound, grunting and groaning and tilting his head back and forth. He jumped as she bandaged his arm but quieted down, watching her carefully.
"Not too tight?"
"It's fine. Thanks," he replied. He flexed his fingers and let his elbow fall into his lap. "I'm screwed, aren't I." He didn't wait for her answer. "Is everythin' okay?"
She glanced up, momentarily pausing as she cleaned the sink. "What do you mean?"
He shook his head. "You know what I mean, but it's fine if you don't wanna talk."
"I don't know what you mean."
He shrugged, hazel eyes on the blood underneath his fingernails.
They relayed each other from there, Mary taking the first watch though Lana had fought for her to sleep first, but the blonde had insisted. It's gone for the night, Lana. This is just formalities now.
She took the second, watching over the girl as she slept fitfully on the couch, Kit wheezing out snores at her side. He woke abruptly when she shook him and he rubbed at his eyes. He mumbled at her but she couldn't understand and ignored it.
"I need a cigarette," she told Kit. "Do you think you can-?"
"Only if you let me have a break after you," he muttered. "I'm gonna finish a pack after this shit." She nodded and he placed his had back on his pillow, eyes remaining open as he waited for her to go and come back.
She left the living room quickly, closing the front door behind her before reaching for her lighter. Plumes of smoke rose from her cigarette and her mouth and into the pre-dawn air, clouding with her breath when she paused to sigh out.
She was about to stomp out the rest of it, feeling nauseous after the first half, but she turned as a creak sounded out from where the swings were. She froze abruptly, fingers threatening to lock painfully as golden cat eyes watched back from the playset.
Mary stood slowly, her own ember ashes dusting out into the wind, and she carefully made her way over, foot in front of the other in a calculated manner that was so utterly not her.
Lana glanced back behind her, the door still closed, and she thought she heard the blonde giggle as she approached the patio. She was sure she'd left the sister in the living room, on the couch.
The girl ascended the stairs slowly, with a grace that wasn't her body's, and placed herself before Lana, their chests meeting when she breathed in to smoke. The brunette watched her, flinching when tainted air was pushed back into her face. She almost wanted to swallow it. Mary smirked.
Lana picked the cigarette from in between rose tainted lips and let it fall to the ground, crushing it beneath her heel and into the white wood. "It's not your body."
"No, it's not. Not yet," the blonde admitted, huffing out the last of the smoke. She looked out into the pitch black. It took her a moment to speak again. "She's strong, unfortunately. By now I'd have her sniveling like a cow. A pig. A horse waiting for the whip." She grimaced, a child who's tasted something unpalatable. "Why hasn't she fallen to me? How does she resist all I have to offer?"
"A whip and a sob?" Lana questioned. "She's got a good heart. Pure. Innocent. God-given."
The devil sneered. "God," she spit. "A tale for children."
"And you?"
"A nightmare."
"All that you have to offer."
The devil glanced her over, gaze narrowed. "Why do you love her so?"
"She's got a good heart," the brunette repeated. The stub of her cigarette began burning at her fingertips.
The golden eyed creature's grin grew. "And you?"
"Not."
"How sure you sound." The blonde pouted mockingly.
"Ask your God," Lana snapped back testily. "He has something to reproach me."
"So you fuck girls. I hardly care," the girl breathed. "Neither would He."
"I thought he was a children's tale."
"Oh, sure."
Lana glanced at her.
"No, Lana. Make girls come all you want with your tongue to their lips. What he doesn't like is you harboring feelings for one of his wives." The blonde motioned to her body.
"I would never," the woman growled, tearing her gaze away.
"I know that," the devil's eyebrow raised. "Do you?"
"I care for her," Lana enunciated thickly. "I respect her."
"Not in your dreams."
"Then you know nothing of my dreams." She threw a disdainful look to the creature inhabiting the young sister. "I know what you're doing. It won't work."
"It almost did." The devil peered at her curiously. "What are your dreams then, Lana? If not her?"
"Her happiness," Lana answered immediately. She looked up, dark gaze blacker than the night surrounding them. "You have no place in this happiness. And I will acquire it for her."
The blonde grinned. "How ambitious are we, Ms. Lana Winters." She walked away, humming and tittering aimlessly, as if gloriously drunk. She glanced back, cat eyes disappearing in the darkness. "I will break you. The both of you. And I will watch your bodies dance in the Hellfires."