Saturday, February 17, 2024

The Doll and the Demon

 It’s time for Tom to meet Rachel’s mother, and an already tense evening turns sinister when they have to investigate a monster in a little girl’s closet.

The Doll and the Demon, Part One

I parked in the driveway. Rachel peered through the windshield at the house.

                  “No one knows we’re here yet,” she said. “There was that Greek restaurant down the road—”

                  “We’ve braved vampires, demons, ghosts, and killer plants,” I told her. “You can get through this.”

                  She groaned. “Fine.” 

                  At the door I pushed the bell. Rachel tapped her foot nervously. “We could still—”

“Too late.” The door opened.

                  The woman inside was shorter than Rachel, not as slender, with more gray in her red hair. But she had the same hazelnut eyes, and almost the same smile—polite, but guarded.

                  “Hello, Rachel,” she said.

                  Rachel nodded. “Hi, mom.”

 

After years of dating, living together, fighting monsters, and arguing, Rachel and I were engaged. We still hadn’t set a date—that was one of the arguments lately—but at some point Rachel had to tell her mother about it. Which raised certain issues.

                  “I hate her,” she said one morning at breakfast. “And she hates me.”

                  “Hate is a strong word,” I said, in as neutral a tone as I could muster.

                  “Okay, not hate. She just doesn’t care what I do. Never has, never did.” She stirred her Froot Loops. “I mean, her boyfriends paid more attention to me than she did—not the right kind of attention, but . . .” She ate a spoonful of cereal. “Okay, they weren’t all creeps, and some of them tried to be nice. But when you’re just starting to get psychic powers and you can pick up everything they’re thinking and feeling . . .” She shook her head. “Not that she would have understood it anyway. Or believed me.”

                  I didn’t know a lot about Rachel’s childhood, but I’d picked up a few highlights over the years. Her parents divorced when she was 11. She’d started developing her powers at 14 or so, and didn’t understand what was happening to her at all—just that she suddenly could see and hear things nobody else could. She hid all that and finally escaped to college, where she got a degree in design and came to terms with her psychic abilities.

                  We met when she was in her 30s and living in the apartment upstairs from mine. She was having some trouble with vampires, and I helped her out. We started dating, and she started helping me with my cases—I’m a private detective, and for some reason I run into the supernatural on the job way too often. Rachel’s psychic powers came in handy. Plus, she’s hot.

                  Now, several years later, we’d just gotten engaged. Somewhere in there Rachel reconnected with her mouther—her father had died when she was in college—and they’d been talking every few months. So, the last time she called, Rachel told her mother we were getting married.

                  So now we were having dinner with her.

                  “This is Tom,” Rachel said, taking off her coat. “Tom, my mother. Tobie.”

                  “Hi.” We shook hands. Tobie looked me over, smiling, as if she’d expected me to be imaginary. Then she looked Rachel up and down, nodding in some kind of guarded approval. 

                  It was a small two-story house in Cicero—not the house Rachel had grown up in. A decent neighborhood. I’d seen two parks and an elementary school driving down the street. 

                  “Something to drink? Beer, wine, soda, whiskey . . .” Tobie looked toward her kitchen. “Mike? They’re here!”

                  Mike was a tall man with a thin beard and a Chicago Bulls sweatshirt. He had broad shoulders, a thick middle, and a strong grip as we shook hands. “Miguel,” he said, “or Mike. Whatever. Can I get you something?”

                  “Daddy?” The voice of a little girl came from the living room. “You’re missing the movie!”

                  Mike chuckled. “My daughter. Just a minute, Lily!” He smiled at us. “Liliana. I get her every weekend, and one week a month.”

                  “Go ahead,” Tobie told him. “I’ll get us some drinks. Rachel?”

                  Rachel rolled her eyes but followed her mother into the kitchen. Mike led me to the living room, where a big screen TV was playing whatever the latest Pixar movie was streaming. In the middle of the floor, surrounded by a circle of toys, sat Liliana, about eight, with straight black hair, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with Ariel from The Little Mermaid.  

                  “Lily, this is Mr. Jurgen,” Mike said.

                  She gave me a split-second glance. “Hi.”

                  “Hello,” I said, sitting down.

                  Rachel brought me a beer. “Don’t get used to this,” she said, sitting next to me.

                  Tobie was carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Lily, honey? Why don’t you watch that in the other room?”

                  Lily made a face, sighed, then turned the TV off. “You can use your iPad, honey,” Mike said as she slouched from the room. 

                  Tobie poured wine and lifted her glass. “To finally meeting Tom.”

                  “And to the wedding.” Mike grinned. “When is it, anyway?”

                  Rachel and I glanced at each other. “We haven’t set a date yet,” I answered. The reason was mostly because Rachel didn’t want to take a chance on her mother showing up. Plus, we were still getting used to the idea of actually getting formally married.

                  “Are you going to take Tom’s name?” Tobie asked. “I’m Tabitha Sifuentes now.” She patted Mike’s arm. “Rachel Jurgen. Rachel Jurgen. It could work.”

                  “I’m keeping Dunne. It’s how my clients know me.” She gulped her beer.

                  “But don’t you have a new job?” Her eyes narrowed.

                  Rachel had recently gotten her degree and started working as a therapist in a mental health practice a few months ago. “Yeah, but they all know me this way, and I, uh, I just feel better with my name.” She looked at me. “Tom’s okay with it.”

                  We hadn’t actually ever discussed it. I shrugged. “I’m fine either way.”

                  “So,” Mike said. “You’re a private detective, is that right?”

                  “Yeah.” I waited for him to ask me if I carry a gun. I don’t, usually. Instead he asked me, “Is that interesting? Or just a lot of sitting around watching people go in and out of motels?”

                  “There’s a certain amount of that.” I sipped my beer. “Lots of what I do is calling people on the phone, asking questions.  I used to be a reporter, so I’m good at that.”

                  “Do you have a lot of rich clients?” Tobie asked, smiling.

                  I could feel Rachel stifle a groan. I answered, “Can’t tell you that. If you know any millionaires worried about their spouses, though, send them my way.”

                  Tobie laughed. “If we knew any millionaires, I wouldn’t be married to him.”

                  “Hey!” Mike chuckled. 

                  She leaned over to kiss his cheek. I felt another suppressed groan from Rachel.

                  “How’d you guys meet?” Mike asked.

                  We glanced at each other. “I was living upstairs from him,” Rachel said. “And the landlord said I was making too much noise, so he hired Tom to intimidate me.”

                  “What kind of noise?” Tobie asked suspiciously.

                  “Uh, I was running a sort of support group.” Rachel looked at the floor. “For women. With problems. I guess we were making a little noise sometimes—”

                  “And you got her to shut up?” Tobie was skeptical.

                  “Hardly.” I looked at her. “I, uh, helped with a problem that was causing the issue.” Vampires, but I didn’t want to spring that on them at our first get-together. “And she kindly let me take her out to dinner.”

                  “I was just hungry,” Rachel said. “But he was kind of cute. In a shelter dog kind of way.”

                  They laughed.

                  Dinner, when we got to it, was a Mexican chicken dish Mike had prepared, spicy and delicious. Rachel picked through it, eating the refried beans and rice because she’s a vegetarian, and Mike apologized several times while Tobie sighed. Lily ate a small portion, along with a few fish sticks. 

                  We chatted amiably through dinner. Mike was in construction, and he told us about his latest project, building a row of townhouses on the other side of Cicero. Rachel talked about her job, and I told a few stories about some of my cases. I kept the details vague and didn’t mention any of the monsters or mad scientists we’ve run into. 

                  Lily was quiet, but she was watching Rachel, as if she wanted to ask her questions about why she wasn’t eating the chicken or why she was hanging out with a funny-looking adult like me. Tobie mostly ignored her, but Mike made sure she finished her dinner and helped clear the table.

                  After dinner we had coffee in the living room. Lily read by herself in the corner until 8:30, when Tobie called bedtime on her. She said goodnight to me, then surprised Rachel with a hug before Mike took her to her bedroom upstairs.

                  “She likes you,” Tobie said.

                  Rachel nodded, puzzled. “Yeah. I don’t know, I’m not really a kid person.”

Tobie cocked her head. “No children for you?” 

Rachel stiffened. I said, “Probably not. I mean, things may change, but—”

Rachel’s voice was firm. “No kids. I’m not the mother type.”

“Meaning—” Tobie stopped herself. “Well, I suppose that’s your call. I suppose I wasn’t much of a role model . . .”

For a moment Rachel said nothing, letting the words hang in the air. Then she sighed. “You did the best you could, mom. I know that now. It just—was rough on me. I don’t mean—"

She clenched her jaw. “Well, when he walked on me—”

“On us, mom.” Rachel crossed her arms and stared at her. “Dad walked out on us. Both of us.”

“Yeah. You’re right, you’re right.” She nodded and took a deep breath. “But for me—”

Mike returned. “She’s really taken a shine to you, Rachel,” he said, oblivious to the sudden filling the living room. “More coffee, anyone?” He had a carafe on the center table.

No one answered right away. I finally lifted my cup. “I’ll take a little.”

“Did she complain about the monsters again?” Tobie asked as Mike poured.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I looked, but that doesn’t make a difference. She says they hide when I look for them.”

“Monsters under the bed?” I asked.

“In the closet. She’s got a crazy imagination. It doesn’t happen when she’s with my ex.” He shrugged. “Kids, huh?”

Tobie and Rachel avoided each other’s eyes as I nodded.

A few minutes later, finished with our coffee, we got up to leave. Rachel was eager to escape, and I just wanted to get home at a reasonable hour. Tobie went to fetch our coats when Lily appeared at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Rachel?” Her voice was soft, but quivering. “Will you check for monsters?”

We looked at each other, and then Rachel looked at Mike. His eyes widened, surprised. Tobie returned with our coats. “What?”

“Lily wants Rachel to, uh, check for monsters.” Mike was nervous.

Tobie sighed. “Lily, Rachel’s got to go home. Go back upstairs and your father or me will—”

“It’s okay,” Rachel said. “I’ll go. Coming, Lily.”

She took Lily’s hand and walked her up the stairs.

“Not the mother type, huh?” Tobie let out a mild snort. If Rachel heard, she ignored it. 

Rachel returned five minutes later. “She’s fine now.”

“Thank you,” Mike said. “She’s not usually that trusting with people she just met.”

She shrugged. “She’s a sweet kid.”

We got out coats on, and Rachel and her mother managed a brief hug. Mike and I shook hands. “Thanks for everything,” I said. 

“Come back again.” Tobie shook my hand. “Drive safe!’

In the car I fastened my belt. “That didn’t go so bad.”

Rachel said nothing.

I started the car. “I mean, your mother’s a little prickly, but—”

“It’s not that.” She stared out the window as I backed up, looking up toward the second floor.

“What?”

“Lily’s right,” Rachel said quietly. “There’s a monster.”

 

“What kind of monster?”

                  We were on our sofa, flipping through channels as Rachel searched for a reality show that would calm her nerves. 

She sighed. “I don’t know. I didn’t see it. I only—felt it. There. In the dark.”

                  I sipped my beer. “Is it dangerous?”

                  “It’s a monster. Not one of those cute cuddly Pixar ones. I could feel that much.”

                  “But it hasn’t hurt her.”

                  Rachel nodded. “Yet.”

                  She found a show—Return to Bachelorette Island, or something like that—and sipped her own beer.

                  “So what do we do?” I asked as a string of bachelorettes checked out a line of bachelors in Speedos. 

                  “I don’t know.” Rachel groaned softly. “Lily doesn’t even live there half the time. Does it follow her? Or is it a permanent resident of my mom’s house? I don’t know what to do.”

                  We sat watching the show for a few minutes.

                  “Does your mom know? About you being psychic?”

                  Rachel muted the TV. “You try being a teenager and explaining to your mother that you think you can hear what people are thinking, know what they’re going to say. After a while I quit trying to tell her. I couldn’t go to a therapist because they’d put me on drugs.” She sighed and drank some beer, “After I left, after college, I tried one time, but I was too angry. I couldn’t get past how she didn’t listen to me, how she paid more attention to her boyfriends than me. Did I mention she was high half the time? Or drunk? I sure reminded her. It didn’t go too good. That was before I met you. Before—a lot of things.” 

                  She crossed her arms and put her head down. I leaned over, and she let me hold her.

                  After a few minutes she sat up and turned the TV off. “But it’s not Lily’s fault. We’ve got to do something. Damn it.”

                  “Yeah.”

                  We sat there for a long time.


The Doll and the Demon, Part Two

That was Thursday night. The next day Rachel had to go into the clinic and be a therapist. I had to make a lot of phone calls trying to find witnesses who’d talk about several incidents of sexual harassment alleged committed by a CEO. I found two people who were willing to give me information, so I went to visit one at her new job and the other at a Starbucks.

                  Rachel got home at 6:30. It was my night to cook dinner, and I was finishing up some vegetable curry with rice when she sauntered into the kitchen after changing from work. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

                  “I’m going to have to call her.” She sat down and took a swig. “Mom.”

                  I nodded. “Before dinner or after?”

                  “I had to skip lunch for a meeting.” She picked up her fork. “So I’m starving. And, yeah, delaying. A little. Later.”

                  “Let’s eat.” I set out the meal and grabbed a beer for myself.

                  Afterward Rachel cleaned up, taking her time with the dishwasher to put off the phone call a little more. Finally she dried her hands, sighed, sat down, and pulled out her phone. 

                  “You okay?”

                  Rachel shook her head. “No. But Lily was really scared. You didn’t see it. None of you could feel it. I have to do . . . something.” She scrolled to her mother’s number and hit “call.”

                  Two buzzes, then: “Rachel?”

                  “Hi, mom. How are you?”

                  “Good.” She sounded surprised. “I didn’t expect—how are you?”

                  “I’m fine. Tom’s here with me.” She looked up at me.

                  “Hi, Tobie,” I said as cheerfully as I could manage.

                  “Hello, Tom. What’s up?”

                  Rachel took a deep breath. “Does that thing—with Lily and the monster—does that happen when she’s at Mike’s ex’s house?”    

                  “What?” Now she was confused. “I don’t—Mike! Just a second.”

                  “Uh, hi,” Mike said a moment later. “What’s going on?”

                  Rachel repeated her question. “I don’t think so,” Mike said. “But she might not have told me. I can get Lily—”

                  “No, not now,” Rachel said quickly.

                  “Why are you worried about this?” Tobie asked.

                  Rachel paused. “Mike, let me talk to mom alone, okay?”

                  “Uh, sure.” 

                  “Rachel, what’s going on?” Now Tobie was irritated.

                  Another deep breath. “Mom, do you remember when I was 16—I think it was 16—and I told you that that guy, Roy, was having an affair? Remember that?”

                  “What does that have to do with anything? That was—”

                  “And then you caught him? With that blond girl who was barely older than me? Do you remember that?”

                  “Of course I remember! But what does that have . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Yeah, I remember now. You made it sound like you were reading his mind or something.”

                  “Yeah. I wasn’t exactly hearing his thoughts, but I could—feel it. Strong enough to get the details, like she was blond and young. I tried to tell you—”

                  “Yeah, yeah, I remember, I remember!” Tobie was close to shouting now. “What’s your point, Rachel? What does this have to do with Lily?”

                  “I’m psychic, mom.” Rachel kept her voice quiet. “I have been since I was about 14. I tried to tell you lots of times, but you never listened. But it’s true. I see things, I sense things. And there’s something bad inside that closet.”

                  Tobie was silent for a long time. Finally she whispered, “I don’t believe it. This is crazy”

                  “It’s true, mom.” Rachel closed her eyes. “It’s true.”

                  “Well, what—this is crazy! There’s nothing in my house—this is insane! What do you think, that the bogeyman or something is hiding in the closet, invisible or something? That you’re the only person who can see it? Is this a joke? You’re, what, a ghost whisperer?”

                  Rachel was trying to breathe calmly, but her face was taut and red.

                  “Tobie,” I said, “I don’t always understand it, but Rachel is very sensitive to these things. She can pick up things I can’t, that no one else can. She knows what she’s talking about. It’s hard to believe, I know, but—it’s true. I’ve seen it. I’ve been seeing it for years.”

                  “I never met you before last night.” Her voice rasped. “I don’t know anything about you. Rachel kept you away, she stayed away, she cut me off, for years she doesn’t speak to me, and now she’s got this wonderful husband and she’s telling me about what’s going on in my house, with my husband, and I’m supposed to—what? Call an exorcist? Banish the evil spirits that no one can see? Because an eight-year-old girl is scared of her closet?”

                  I looked at Rachel, but she looked away from me. We were all silent for a long moment.

                  Finally Tobie broke the silence with a loud sigh. “Mike’s got her until Sunday night. Do you want to come out here tomorrow and—and, I don’t know, take a look at the closet or something?
                  Rachel bit her lip. “Yeah. And talk to her. Would that be all right?”

                  “I’ll ask Mike. But yeah, I’m sure it is. He liked you. And Tom, too.”

                  “All right. Thank you.”

They hung up.

                  Rachel looked at the floor for a long time. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her cry, and she didn’t now, but sniffed and wiped her eyes. “That—went better than I expected, actually.”

                  I reached for her hand. “You all right?”

                  She nodded. “When I left to go to college, I didn’t ever want to come back. I didn’t come home for the summer. I saw her maybe, I don’t know, three times before I graduated. I didn’t go to the ceremony, so she didn’t have to come to that. But I don’t know what I would have said if she did.” She grabbed a napkin to blow her nose. “It’s just—weird now. Talking to her. Seeing her. Oh God.” She shivered. “I have to see her tomorrow. 

                  Rachel is usually the one telling me what to do. It felt strange and confusing to see her so fearful and so vulnerable. “I’ll be there, if that’s any help. And Mike likes you.”

                  She rolled her eyes. “He’s a lot better than any of her boyfriends when I was growing up.” Then she stood up. “So are you.”

                  I shrugged, modest. “I try.”

                  “Shut up.” She squeezed my hand and then stood up. “Let’s see what’s on TV.”

 

So the next day we were back at her mother’s house. 

                  We sat in the kitchen. Tobie poured coffee. “Cream? Sugar?” Mike and Lily were in the back yard. 

                  “Neither,” I said.

                  She sat down. “So what do we do?”

                  Rachel and I looked at each other. I waited for her, as we’d agreed in the car. She would do the talking. I was there for backup and emotional support. 

                  Rachel took a sip of her coffee. “This is better than you make,” she told me. Then she stood up. “Let’s take a look at that closet.”

                  Tobie led us upstairs. At the end of the hall she pointed through an open doorway. “You’ve been here before,” she said to Rachel. “It’s a mess, but I have to let Mike take care of things like that. Anyway—” She shook her head. “Do you have to be alone or something?”

                  “Tom can come.” She took a step inside. “I mean, you can come too, if you want—”

                  “I’ll be downstairs.” Tobie turned and headed back down the hall.

                  We went in. Stuffed animals lay on an unmade bed. Textbooks and empty soda cans were stacked on a small desk in the corner. A small bookcase held volumes of Harry Potter, The Hobbit,  the Hunger Games books and others I’d never heard of, not being an eight-year-old girl. Clothes were scattered in the general direction of a hamper next to a chest of drawers. A sliding closet door was closed.

                  “This is a mess?” I stepped over a sweater. “She should see our bedroom.”

                  “Or your side of the office.”

                  “Hey, I clean up once a week—”

“Ssh.”  Rachel slid open the closet doors. “Give me a minute.”

She crossed her arms and closed her eyes. I stood behind her, my eyes on the closet in case its burst into flames or suddenly exploded outward in some sort of demonic fury. But nothing happened. I perched on the edge of Lily’s bed, waiting.

Rachel let her arms drop. “It’s in there. But not like the other night. Like it’s hiding, or asleep.” She stepped forward. “Let’s take a look.”

Dresses , shirts, and pants hung across the narrow space. More clothes were piled on the floor. Boxes of puzzles and games sat on a shelf.

Rachel backed away. “Check it out.”

“Me? What am I, the redshirt who gets killed before the first commercial?” 

She smirked. “I’m in charge of psychic stuff. This time you’re my assistant instead of the other way around.”

“Associate. I never called you an assistant. Hardly ever.” But I crouched down and started sifting through the clothes. “Tell me if you sense any invisible terrors about to rush out.”

Nothing, though, just piles of tops and jeans and shoes, and an empty box of crackers. Then in the back corner I found a dusty cardboard box, the top just folded shut. I lifted it—

—And a shriek shattered the air, almost splitting my eardrums. I dropped the box and fell back, clamping my hands over my ears. I looked up at Rachel, stepping back, covering her ears like me. The scream rocked the room, and for a moment I thought it would knock the bookcase over.

Then the scream went silent. Rachel blinked, rubbing her ears. “Okay . . .”

With a deep breath, I crept toward the box again. Instead of lifting it I gently pulled it across the carpet, over the sliding track, and at let it sit at Rachel’s feet.

She kneeled. Together we unfolded the flaps of the box and carefully pulled them up. No more shrieks erupted from the closet.

Inside the box lay a doll.

Not a Barbie doll. It had a long dress, a painted face, and dark red hair. Rachel cocked her head, narrowed her eyes, and reached down slowly to take it in her hands. I tensed, expecting another scream.

Rachel lifted the doll. All I could hear was my breathing. Then I heard footsteps outside in the hall. “Rachel? What was that?”

Tobie. I looked over at her. “We might have found something.”

“How did this get here?” Rachel stood up[. “You kept this? You held onto all this time, mom?”

Tobie was confused. “What? What is that?”

“This is mine.” Rachel held it out. “My doll, from when I was, I don’t know, seven or eight. Anastasia.” She looked down at the doll. “How did it get here?”

Thinking of Rachel, even a young Rachel, playing with a doll— it felt strange. I looked inside the box. It held some old crumpled newspapers, nothing else. I unfolded a page and found a date: Jan. 24, 1985.

“Did you bring it here?” Rachel was still staring at the doll. “I mean, how many places did we move before I even went to college? You carried this around everywhere?”

Tobie shook her head. “I didn’t. I don’t remember seeing that. I mean, it’s just a box, maybe—”

“When did you move in here?” I asked.

“A year ago. Ten months. Right after Mike and I—well, we got married a few months later.”

From the bottom of the stairs we heard a call. “Tobie?” It was Mike. “You okay up there?”

“F-fine, Mike,” Tobie called back. “Just give me a minute. I’ll be right down.”

“Are you okay?” I asked Rachel.

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. This is just—weird.”

“Yeah.” I glanced at the open closet. “Is this the monster?”

Rachel looked up. She peered into the closet, then down at the doll, and then she shook her head.

“No,” she said, almost a whisper. “No. It’s still there.”


The Doll and the Demon, Part Three

The next step was to talk to Lily. 

                  Mike agreed to let Rachel talk to Lily alone in the dining room. The rest of us sat in the kitchen, within earshot if Lily felt she needed help. Tobie poured us more coffee and sat next to Mike, her face stony. Mike leaned back in his chair, his eyes almost closed, listening, but his muscles were tight, as if he was ready to spring up and dash to snatch Lily away if she grew upset. 

                  We listened.

                  “Lily, I want to ask you about—the thing in your closet. Is that okay?”

                  “Y-yeah.”

                  “Your dad’s just over in the kitchen. If you want him, any time, all you have to do is say so. Is that all right?”

                  “Okay.”

                  A pause.

                  “Lily, I want you to know that I believe you about the thing in your closet. There is something there. I don’t know what, but I can feel things. Sometimes. I can feel something in there.”

                  Her voice was small, almost impossible to hear. “No one else thinks so.”

                  “Well, I do. How long has it been there?”

                  Pause. “I don’t know.”

                  “A week? A month?”

                  “It’s always been there. I think. I didn’t know what it was first. I started hearing it . . .”

                  “What did you hear? What did it sound like?”

                  A few seconds passed, as if Lily was trying to find the right words. “Breathing. First it was quiet, then it got louder. The last time I was here it started getting really loud. Like a big dog.”

                  “What did you do?”

                  “I got my dad, but then it was quiet. And my dad didn’t see anything. He said I was just having a dream.”

                  Mike grimaced. Tobie put a hand on his arm.

                  “Do you ever hear it at your mother’s house?”

                  “No. Just here.”

                  “Is it always breathing? Is there anything else?”

                  “It just gets louder. Then it stops.”

                  “Do you see anything? Does anything come out of the closet?”

                  “S-shadows. Sometimes. They go around the walls. They go back.”

                  “Are you scared when that happens? Or brave?”

                  “A little. Scared, I mean. But then nothing happens, and I go to sleep.”

                  “What happens in the morning?”

                  “Nothing. The sun’s up. I don’t hear anything.”

                  “Do you tell your dad and Tobie about it?”

                  No answer.

                  “What do they do when you tell them?”

                  “They look for it. Dad looks, usually. Sometimes Tobie. But they can’t find anything, and they tell me to go to sleep.”

                  “Why do you think they can’t find anything?”

                  “I don’t know. How can you hear it?”

                  “I’m—I have this thing. I can see and hear things other people can’t. But I’m just like everybody else. I’m just Rachel.”

                  Lily giggled. “You’re my sister. Sort of. Stepsister.”

                  “That’s right.” Rachel laughed too.

                  Tobie rolled her eyes. “I was thinking Aunt Rachel, but whatever . . .”

                  “There’s one more thing,” Rachel said. “Do you . . . have you ever seen this?” She was showing Lily the doll.

                  “No. What is it?”

                  “It was in your closet. You’ve never seen it before?”

                  “No. How was it in my closet?”

                  “Well, it used to be mine. When I was your age. My mother must have put it there when she and your dad moved in here.”

                  “Can I—?”

                  “Here. You can keep her if you want. I have a feeling she wants to be here.”

                  The dining room was quiet.

                  “Lily, thanks for talking to me.  I know this was hard for you. I have to go talk to your dad now, is that okay?”

                  “Uh-huh. Can I watch a video?”

                  Rachel hesitated. “I guess so. Thanks again.”

                  She came into the kitchen. “Is it all right? About the video? I didn’t know—”

                  “It’s fine.” Mike looked up at her. “What did you find out?”

                  “Well, you heard. She was very calm answering my questions. She was a little scared talking about—about the thing, whatever it is. But she was very open about her feelings. I could sense that she’s scared of the thing, but not terrified. The doll—she seemed to respond to it. She was holding it very protectively when I left her in there.”

                  Mike sighed. “I’m sorry, but what does this all mean? Is there really a monster? Is Lily—” He lowered his voice. “Is Lily in danger? Do I need a priest? Do we have to burn the place down?”

                  Tobie clutched his arm. “Calm down, Mike. This is all—I don’t know if I even believe any of it. She’s just an eight-year-old girl, you know?”

                  “You heard that scream, didn’t you?” I asked.

                  “Yes, but that could have been anything. Something in the pipes. Lily’s a great kid, but she’s been through so much with Mike and her mother—maybe she needs a doctor and not a psychic?”

                  Rachel bit her lip, then looked to Mike. “You’re divorced from her mother, right?”

                  “Yeah. I mean—we were never married. But we were together for 10 years.”

                  “Was the breakup bad?”

                  His face stiffened. “We were—she—I . . .” He took a deep breath. “Okay, we cheated, all right? Both of us. Not with Tobie.” He glanced at her. “I met her afterward. But at the end we were—fighting all the time. Or just not talking to each other. It was a relief when it was over. I thought it was for Lily, too, but—”

                  “Kids process breakups differently,” Rachel said, trying to keep her tone professional. “They almost always think of it as their fault. They’re scared their parents don’t love them anymore. They’re insecure, and they’ll do things for attention or reassurance. Stuff like this, to be honest. Not that they lie consciously, but their emotions get bottled up and they come out in different ways.”

                  “So she could—” Tobie started.

                  Rachel held up a hand. “I wouldn’t be pushing this as anything else if that’s all I thought there was. But I did feel something up there. I don’t know how dangerous it is. But it’s not warm and cuddly. It’s evil.”

                  Tobie clearly didn’t want to listen to any of it. Mike looked doubtful too. I watched Rachel, working to stay professional and cool as if she was talking to a patient and not her own mother.

                  She opened her mouth to speak, but Lily’s scream interrupted her.

                  It was high-pitched and jagged, like a glass window shattering in an ice storm. Mike was up and around the table before I could move, and we followed him as he dashed into the living room.

                  Lily was standing on the sofa, clutching the doll in her arms, as a dark shape—a gray, ragged cloud—loomed down over the room from the ceiling. It hung in the air like a black hole, pulsating and groaning in a loud, tuneless drone.

                  The sound was like a dragon grunting, getting ready for a roar. The cloud billowed out like smoke from a burning furnace, then drew back, then belched out again. I smelled a foul odor, like something rotting behind a barnyard, and I rubbed my eyes as the stench and the smoke permeated the air.

                  Mike snatched Lily, pulling her up from the sofa, and she buried her face in his shoulder. I fumbled for my phone, coughing but hoping to get some video. Rachel was behind me, covering her mouth and nose with her arm as the cloud plunged down. 

We stepped back as Mike carried Lily away, and then cloud began to dissipate. It stopped pulsing and started fading away like smoke in the wind, the droning sound dropping into a low hum before falling silent.

Now the living room was empty again. No trace of whatever we’d just witnessed. 

                  “What the hell was that?” Tobie asked, breaking the sudden silence.

                  I looked at Rachel. Her face was pale. 

                  I headed for the staircase. Upstairs I went to Lily’s room. The closet door was closed. My hands trembled as I slid it open.

                  A dense black fog filled the air inside. I backed away, my heart pounding. “Rachel?” 

                  A burst of smoke shot out of the cloud. A blast of heat hit my face like a scorching desert wind. I fell and rolled away, gasping, and managed to reach my feet again as Rachel came to the door. “Tom?”

                  “Wait—” I held out a hand. “There’s something in there—”

                  The cloud bulged out from the closet like a black worm poking up through the soil, and the room felt like the inside of a volcano. Rachel grabbed my arm and I staggered against the door, trying to pull both of us out—

                  And then the cloud was gone. 

                  Rachel held onto my arm as I caught my breath. “You okay?”

                  I nodded. “Y-yeah. I think so.” I looked at her. Her face looked shaken, as if she’d seen something that scared her. “What was it?”

                  “I don’t know—”

                  “Rachel? Are you all right?” Tobie was right behind her, shaking her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

                  Rachel shook her head. “Is Lily okay?”

                  “Mike’s with her now.” Tobie stepped back, peering into the room. “What happened? What’s going on?”

                  “So you believe me now.” Rachel turned. “That I can see things? Feel stuff? That’s all real? You believe me?”

                  Tobie stiffened. “You can’t—for Christ’s sake, Rachel, I never saw anything like this before! What do you want me to say? I’m sorry for everything that ever happened in your life? That thing—” She pointed downstairs. “What is that thing? That’s what I want to know right now!”

                  Rachel sighed. “Yeah. Sorry. That’s what’s important now.” She took a breath. “Let’s go talk to Lily.”

 

Lily sat at the kitchen table with the doll in her lap. Mike had poured himself some whiskey. He offered me some, but I declined.

                  We all sat. Rachel leaned forward. “Are you all right, Lily?”

                  She nodded silently.

                  “Can you tell us what happened?”

                  Lily swallowed. “I was just watching TV. Looking for something to watch. And then the doll said—she said . . .” She bit her lip.

                  “The doll?” Mike looked at it. “It talked to you?”

                  Lily nodded, crying. “I don’t play with dolls. I’m too big for dolls! But I liked her, and I had her sitting up on my lap for the TV, and she said—she said . . . shedom. Shedomar. And then the thing—the thing . . .” She lay her head down on the table, shaking. 

                  “It’s all right,” Mike said quietly. “It’s gone now. Nothing’s going to—going to get you. Right?” He looked up at us.

Rachel reached out a hand. “Can I see Anastasia?”

Lily looked confused. “You mean—the doll? Her name is Amelia.”

“You named her that?”

After a moment Lily nodded. She held the doll out for Rachel to take.

Rachel held the doll with both hands, staring at it. Tobie looked at her, grimacing. Mike was patting Lily’s arm, whispering softly to her.

“Anything?” I asked. “You didn’t notice anything before.”

She shook her head. “There’s got to be something. Maybe the other thing is hiding it somehow. I don’t know.”

“Is it safe to stay here?” Tobie’s face was a cold mixture of fear and growing anger. At the monster? At Rachel? Me? Maybe all of us.

Mike looked up, waiting for our answer.
                  Rachel shrugged. “I don’t know. Whatever it is, if it’s part of the house. Then no. If it’s somehow fixated on . . .” She nodded toward Lily, still shaking in her chair. “It might follow.”

Tobie slammed a fist on the table, startling us. Lily started to cry again.

“What is it?” Tobie demanded. “Are we all of a sudden in some kind of horror movie? What the hell is it, Rachel?”

She glanced at me. I nodded and pulled my phone out. 

I have links to lots of different kinds of databases. Some are strictly P.I.-related—property records can tell you a lot, for example, along with different kinds of demographic maps. Of course, some are for games and my favorite actresses.

Others are a little more esoteric. Like the one for demons. My job veers toward the supernatural so often that I need stuff like that. I’ve gotten used to it. Sort of.

Mike stood up. “Ice cream, anyone?” He patted Lily’s arm, and she nodded, sniffling. Tobie frowned, then reached over to squeeze Lily’s hand. 

“It’ll be all right,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.” She avoided Rachel’s eyes.

I showed Rachel my phone. She squinted to skim the brief text, stifling a groan.

“What is it?” Tobie asked.

Rachel hesitated. “Maybe later.” 

Mike came back with chocolate ice cream and bowls. We all had some. Lily started feeling better, giggling when Mike licked a dab of ice cream from her nose. Then Tobie cleaned up, and Lily got her iPad to play a game.

She stayed in the kitchen while we moved to the dining room. Tobie crossed her arms, her eyes flicking between Rachel and me as if deciding which one of us to be mad at.

I read from my phone. “Shedomar is an Egyptian demon who was known to attack families. Starting with the youngest. He, or it, would infiltrate a family through a toy or a doll—” I glanced at Anastasia. Amelia? “And then slowly corrupt the other children and ultimately the parents.” 

“Corrupt?” Mike’s frown was deep and angry. “How?”

“It doesn’t say here. I could dig deeper.” Usually Rachel does this kind of research, but I couldn’t put that on her now. “These days it might be diagnosed as schizophrenia or—”

Rachel kicked me under the table. I shut up. 

Mike and Tobie looked at each other. They said nothing, but you could see confusion and fear in their eyes.  At least they weren’t glaring at us.

“What—” Mike coughed. “Okay, what do we do?”

“I need to research it.” I said. “Rachel brought her laptop. And she knows people to call about stuff like this. But to be safe, I think you and Lily should get out of here. Spend the night at friends, or in a motel.”

“What about you?” Tobie asked.

Before I could answer, Rachel said, “We’ll stay here and figure out some way to deal with it.”

Tobie tilted her chair back, worried. “Just you two? Alone?”

Mike leaned forward. “What if it follows us?”

“She’ll leave the doll here,” I said. “Hopefully this thing is focused on it, not the three of you.” Or just Lily, I didn’t add.

Mike nodded. “Okay. Let’s pack a bag.” He stood up.

Tobie hesitated, but then she pushed her chair back and stood up too. “A motel. One with a swimming pool. She’ll like that. And I don’t want to take a chance on bringing this—this thing along to any of our friends.”

 “Right,” Mike muttered, already halfway to the living room. “Hey, Lily!”

Tobie sighed. “You guys want more coffee?”

I nodded. Rachel stood up. “Get my laptop from the car,” she told me. “You can use it while I call Carrie and some other people. Just don’t look at the file named ‘Porn.’ It’s got all my recipes.”

“So what’s in your ‘Recipes’ folder?” 

She glanced at her mother. “Nothing.”

Tobie snorted. I went out to the car.

 

I spent the afternoon researching demons online, which led to some disturbing and deranged websites. Much of what I found wasn’t worth anything—bad translations of plagiarized texts, legends that had been embellished beyond all recognition, and, of course, a certain amount of demon porn. Which I slipped into Rachel’s “Recipes” folder.

                  Rachel was on the phone, first with her friend Carrie, who doesn’t like me—although Rachel says she’s mellowing now that we’re engaged—but who knows a lot of people in the supernatural community in and around Chicago. Mediums, tarot readers, psychics, amateur demonologists, non-Catholic exorcists, and a few college professors with open minds. 

                  Mike stayed with Lily, playing games and watching TV. Lily kept the doll with her all afternoon, even when she got snacks or went to the bathroom. The monster didn’t return, but we all stayed out of Lily’s bedroom.

                  Tobie paced the house, glaring at us as she passed, but she offered coffee and sandwiches throughout the day, and one time she stood behind Rachel and rubbed her shoulders as she scribbled notes in my notebook. Rachel leaned back, closing her eyes, then squeezed Tobie’s hand. Tobie smiled and went to check on Mike and Lily.

                  At five, Mike came downstairs with two suitcases, a big one for the two of them and a small pink one with unicorns for Lily. “I got us a room at the Marriot,” he said, sitting down at the table. “We can leave anytime.” He seemed eager to get out. “What’s going on?”

                  Rachel grimaced. “I don’t know. We’ve got a couple of spells we can try. And I’ve got a recipe for some kind of brew—it’s more like a soup, but some of the ingredients have to come from Egypt and we don’t have time to get them online.”

                  “I could go look at World Market.” Tobie was next to her husband. “I think I’ve got everything else on that list. Rosemary, honey, oil—”

“It also needs a nine-year-old snakeskin. I don’t suppose you’ve got any of those lying around the house?” Rachel sighed. “We’ll be fine. We’ve done this sort of thing before.”

Several times before. We’d almost gotten killed, or worse, doing it, but that wouldn’t calm anybody’s nerves, particularly mine.

I cleared my throat. “We’ll need the doll. Anastasia, or Amelia, or whatever.”

Mike looked uncomfortable. “That might be a problem.”

“Why?” Tobie asked. “Keeping the doll, I mean.”

“They’re linked.” I’d spent an hour just on this. “The doll is a sort of protector. As long as it was in the closet, it kept the monster in the closet. When we took it out—” I glanced at Rachel. “Well, that may have been a mistake. It let the monster out. If the doll gets further away, the monster has more freedom of movement. It’s got stay here.”

Mike shook his head. “Lily won’t let go of it.”

“Well, she has to,” Tobie said. “We can just tell her—”

“It won’t work!” Mike kept his voice down, but his tone was tense. Frustrated. “She’s been holding it all afternoon. I tried to get her to put it down, I even tried to take it away from her, and she freezes up and turns red and pulls away from me. She kicked me once—not hard, but angry. We’d have to wrestle it from her. I’m not sure I can do that. Or watch any of you do that.”

Tobie frowned, as if she wanted to argue. Then she looked at us. Mostly at Rachel. “What do you think, Rachel?”

Rachel bit her lip. “It means keeping her here so the monster can’t get out. Maybe if we talk to her—”

“What are you guys talking about?” Lily was standing in the doorway. With the doll under her arm.

Mike sighed. “Come here, Liliana.”

She walked across the room and stood next to the table.

“You know we were going to go to the Marriott, and you could go swimming, and order room service? Remember?” He smiled.

Lily nodded.

“It’s so it’ll be safe for Rachel and Tom to take care of the monster. So it can’t hurt you.”

“It won’t hurt me as long as I’ve got Amelia.” She squeezed the doll. 

“It’ll be safer for Tom and Rachel if we leave her here—”

“NO!” Lily shouted and pulled away from her father. “She’s coming with me!”

“Lily, honey,” Nadiune started.

“NO!” Lily’s voice turned into a shriek. She leaned her head back, and like Mike had said, her face turned red. Then her eyes rolled back as she kept screaming, and her whole body shuddered as if she was having a seizure. “NO!”

Mike grabbed her, held her tight. Tobie came in too. She tried to pull the doll away, but Lily lashed out with a fist to her face, and she staggered back, more from shock than pain. 

Rachel knelt next to her and reached out, placing a hand on Lily’s shoulder as the girl kept shrieking. “Shh, shh,” Rachel whispered, although we could barely hear her. “It’s all right, it’s all right. Shh . . .”

Slowly Lily stopped shaking, and suddenly she was gasping instead of screaming, crying, leaning into her father’s arms. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she moaned. “I’m sorry, daddy . . .”

                  “It’s all right, Lily, it’s all right.” Mike held her tightly, looking over her head at Rachel.

                  Rachel quickly moved her arm to touch the doll. Just for a moment. Then she put a hand on Lily’s arm, but jerked it away almost instantly.

She stood up. I started to ask a question, but she shook her head.

                  Lily calmed down quickly, and Tobie brought her a juice box. Mike took her back to the living room, looking his shoulder at us as he walked away. 

                  “What now?” Tobie asked.

                  Rachel sat down and sighed. “The doll—I should have left it there. It’s—it’s inside Lily’s head now. Damn it!” She pounded her fist on the table.

                  “It’s not your fault,” I said.

                  Tobie put a hand on Rachel’s fist. “Tom’s right. You’re trying to help. Nothing is your fault.”

                  Rachel looked up, surprised.

                  Mike came back. “What do we do now?”

                  I didn’t know what to say. Try to wrestle the doll away from Lily? Would that harm her? More than staying in the house with a monster? “I hate to say this, but I think we all have to stay. Unless you want to try taking the doll away again.”

                  He shuddered. “I don’t think I can do that. You saw what happened to her. It’s like The Exorcist or something.” He walked over to the liquor cabinet and got out the whiskey. “You?”

                  I nodded. Even Rachel took half a shot. She drank it, shivered, and said, “Tom’s right. But it’s going to be hard. And scary.”

                  Mike swallowed his whiskey and poured some more. He looked at Tobie. “You don’t have to stay. You could go somewhere safe. Lily’s my daughter.”

                  She stared at him. “Rachel’s my daughter. I’m staying with her.” She looked at me and smiled. “And Tom.”

                  Rachel sighed. “All right. Let’s order pizza and start building a blanket fort.”