Page 83 of The Spirit Key
I reached out for Tim, enjoying the connection between us. “That, my friend, is a question many who came before us never answered. Maybe there isn’t a way. I don’t know. If he’s been around as long as Sofia says, maybe he’s too powerful for us to beat.”
“Bullshit!” Tim stood, nearly knocking me to the floor, and glared down at me. “If he’s that strong, why does he seem to be afraid of you? And why didn’t he kill you the first time he showed up? No, there’s a way to beat him—we just have to find it.”
George cleared his throat. “Maybe Timbo is right. If you think about it, he could have killed us both without breaking a sweat. He had us, and I admit that. What was to stop him from just finishing the job?” He turned to Tim. “Were you aware of what was happening?”
Tim’s mouth thinned out into a harsh line. “Yes.”
“And what was on your mind at the time?”
“How much I didn’t want to hurt anyone, especially Scotty.”
“I believe you held him back and prevented him from killing us. He taunted us as we left, saying he could do it, but then why not? It couldn’t simply be that he chose not to.”
Tim scratched his cheek, then reached out and touched my eye where the bruises were dark and painful-looking. He traced his finger over my face, drawing in a breath when he saw the chipped teeth. His hand continued to drift, coming to rest on my arm.
“I can feel him inside me now. It’s like he’s inside a prison and banging on the bars, demanding to get out. In my mind I can see what he wants, and it terrifies me. It used to be children he showed me, but now it’s Scott dying at my hands. I think he knows that Scott can hurt him or force him out or… something.” Tim turned pleading eyes on George. “Please tell me I’m right.”
“Your mother never said anything about him to me. There were a few times she and Beth would come in, looking ragged, and we’d have to sit down and meditate to help them recenter themselves. Sometimes those became marathons, because the two of them were whipped. When I asked what happened, they were always tight-lipped and just said whatever they were doing hadn’t gone well.” George got up and poured us a bit more tea, then took his seat again. “The fact that you can feel him inside you concerns me. He’s strong and seeking to get out again.”
Tim drew in a breath. “A smart man would say kill me, but I’m not strong enough to give up now.” He squeezed my hand again. “I found out that my life is going to be shorter than I expected it to be, and at some point, Scotty and I are going to lose each other for a while. I fully expect to live every damned moment with him until that time comes. I will not let this thing inside me win.”
The conviction in Tim’s voice had my heart swelling with pride. And then, like a bolt from above, I knew the answer.
“He’s afraid because you love me.”
George’s brow wrinkled. “I’m sorry, what?”
“It makes sense! With the exception of Sofia and Vano, the other people who filled the roles of lock and key were friends, maybe the best of, but they didn’t have a bond of love. Whoever that thing is inside you, he’s terrified because he wants total control, but as long as I’m alive, he can’t have your whole being to himself.”
George pulled a face. “That seems like a stretch.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Tim walked behind me and kneaded my shoulders. “My love for Scotty is what dragged him under. When Scotty called to me, I heard him and fought my way back. I could feel the spirit’s anger as it was forced down again, and his hatred of Scott intensified.”
“And it’s Tim’s love and need to care for me that it’s trying to break. When I was gone—no, when I ran away—Tim was filled with hurt and anger. When you take into consideration that he was also losing his mother, he became receptive to the spirit, which fed off the dark emotions. But deep down, buried beneath the layers of resentment, was still a bit of love.”
“No, there was a lot of love.” Tim leaned down and kissed my neck. “I never stopped loving you.”
I was about to stand when he chuckled.
“He’s wailing. Making demands of me. I know Sofia said I can’t contain him, but right now it seems like he wants out and can’t get free.”
That set me wondering. “What if leaving isn’t as easy as we thought? Maybe the host has to die in order for him to escape.” In my head, thoughts flashed at the speed of light. Somehow, my mind saw so many possibilities about the spirit, but then it screeched to a halt as I realized the truth. “He takes disenfranchised people. The homeless, probably, because no one will miss them. They’re desperate, hurting, and he’s willing to exploit that. He gets into a body, starts whispering dark thoughts to them, and then, when he’s broken their wills, he pushes them down into the pit he resided in, and they’re lost there forever. Then he starts remaking them, turning them into someone respectable, someone kids won’t be afraid of. Once he’s done that, he picks up where he left off, taking them in and killing them. If the police catch them, being locked away until the host dies is no big deal. Even Sofia said so. Hundreds of years is nothing more than the blink of an eye for a spirit.”
George arched his eyebrows. “Where did you come up with this?”
“I’m not sure. It was…. Um.”
“Like a story played out in your head?”
I nodded.
“Did you know that Rebecca told me when she interacted with spirits, she got to see fragments of their lives?”
“So do I. Mine are more fragments of their deaths, though. In the case of this spirit, I can see what the victims see and the face of those who killed them. And recently, I’ve seen a lot of kids with bruises on their throats.”
“They need you to make it right.” George drew in a breath. “They’re being drawn to you, wanting you to set them free.”
I swallowed hard. “All those kids. How the hell long has he been doing this?”
