Tempted by Evil (18 page)

I prayed louder.

“Look at me!”

His voice rattled the furniture in the room, and in my weakness, I did as he bid me.

“Aspen,” he growled, thrusting my notebook in my face, “look at this. Something is wrong. Something is wrong with you. You're not well. You need help.”

His truth brought about a moment of clarity for me. I took what he offered, staring at the page of nonsense in disbelief. It pained me to look at the words, so I closed my eyes and ran my fingers over the indentations in the paper. I'd written with such vigor that the words were carved into the pages more so than written.

'
Words'
wasn't really an accurate description of what I'd scribbled incoherently in the book―
word
would have been. Sheet upon sheet of crisp white paper had been tainted, filled by a single noun. The varying styles and sizes swirled around the paper in a beautifully choreographed message to tell me the truth―to be certain I knew just what I was. The word I'd quickly grown to fear most of all.

Anathema.

“
It can't be true,” I whimpered, still staring at the spiral-bound notepad. It seemed so innocuous. He reached for me slowly―a gesture of consolation. I wasn't fooled. “Stay away from me,” I snarled, thrusting my crucifix toward him.

He paused.

“I need you to listen to me, Aspen. You're acting crazy right now. We need to take you to the hospital.”

“NO!” I screamed, leaping onto the bed, further away from his grasp. “Liars. They are all liars there.”

“Okay, we won't go there, but we need to do something.”

“You know, don't you? You're trying to trick me―take me! She said if you'd been doing your job, none of this would have happened.”

“Who? Aspen, what are you talking about?”

“Mother Superior . . . she told me. Told me what I am . . . ,” I snarled, crouching atop the bed. “Right before I killed her.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph―”

“Don't you blaspheme! Don't you dare use the Lord's name in vain in my presence. I will not suffer your evil!”

“I'm not evil! I'm trying to help you!”

“Then leave! That'll help me. And take your devil agenda with you. I won't be the reason . . . I won't do what you want me to do.”

He eyed me wildly from the floor below, and I watched as an unmistakable shift occurred in his gaze. Concern bled to ambivalence, then nothing at all. His expression was cold as stone.

“You leave me no choice,” he said, coiling his body to launch. Within seconds I was sprawled on the floor, pressed heavily against it by the weight of his body.

Escape was futile.

I could not fight the Shadow away.

When I awoke, my body trembled fiercely while I quickly took in my surroundings. Still on my back, I stared up at the ceiling, enveloped in blankets. The room was dark, with little light intruding through the windows. It was already night. Bile rose in my throat when I remembered what had last occurred before my forced slumber. He had come for me.

As if he had read my mind, he answered my question before I could ask it.

“I am still here,” he called out from the darkest corner of the room.

“Why?” I asked, shivering terribly. His voice had once held a certain comfort that lulled me slightly, but no longer. All I felt was fear.

“Because I couldn't leave you.”

“But I told you . . . I won't do what you want,” I pleaded, wanting desperately for Julian to come through the door and save me like the damsels in all of my favorite novels. I needed saving from many things―myself included.

“And I told you,” he growled, “I'm trying to help you. I am not what you think me to be.”

“But I―”

“Stop!” he shouted, cutting my objection off at the knees. “Do you despise me so much that you would think this little of me? Haven't I shown nothing more than concern for your well-being? Your safety?”

“Well . . . ,” I started, attempting to think hard on what he had said.

“Well, what?” he asked, stepping into the scant light the moon provided. He continued toward me as he spoke, and I instinctively retreated from his approach. “You fear me, don't you?” His voice was tainted with disbelief.

“Yes,” I whispered. I hated how small I sounded.

“Aspen,” he said patronizingly, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed, “I will not hurt you . . . I can't.”

“I think I'm going crazy . . .” I spoke to the folded hands in my lap. “I am, aren't I?”

He audibly sighed, and the bed squeaked as he shuffled his large frame closer to me. I watched while his calloused hand tentatively reached out for mine, taking it carefully in his as though his touch would hurt me. It made sense, given that only hours ago I thought he'd set me aflame.

“You're not going crazy, Aspen,” he said slowly, choosing his words with great care and incredible tact. “That's what they wanted you to think.”

“Who? Who would want that?”

He eyed me carefully, but said nothing in return. Silence crowded the room while he tried several times to answer my question to no avail. Every time he opened his mouth to try, nothing came out.

“It's going to be okay,” he said weakly, fighting to grind the words out.

“You know something,” I replied accusingly, a wave of realization overcoming me. “You don't think I'm crazy because you know of what I speak. You know about the Shadow .” He did not rebut my observation, so I continued on. “Do you know of the prophecy? The Anathema ?” His eyes avoided mine, which only fueled my growing rage. I grabbed his chin and spun his face around to mine. “You know what I am, don't you?”

His jaw flexed viciously while his silence drew on. He wasn't going to budge.

“How long?” I asked, a fury rising within me. “I want to know how long you've known. It's why you came into the coffee house that night, isn't it? Why you just happen to be around when the voices . . .”

I cut myself off.

“The voices . . . ,” he prompted.

“They tell me things,” I said, balling the comforter up in my hands.

“And do you heed their warnings?”

“I would, if they made any sense.”

“You are not evil, Aspen. You must know that.”

“I know that I killed Mother Superior. I know that I may have very well started the apocalypse, Merrick. Where’s the good in that?”

“She was evil. You did what you had to do.”

“That is not your decision to make any more than it was mine!”

“
Decisions . . .
,” he said curiously, pushing his face in nearer to my own. “Always decisions . . .”

His breath came heavy but landed softly upon me. I didn't move.

“There are no more issues to be decided on now,” I whispered. “What's done cannot be undone. What's been foretold cannot be taken back. It's only a matter of time now.”

A silence stretched between us again, lasting longer than before. Again, he looked as though he wanted to say something but censored himself before the words escaped him. I wanted to know what they were.

“I've known forever,” he said quietly, as though hoping I wouldn't hear.

“Forever is a long time.”

“You have no idea . . .”

“What's that supposed to mean?” I asked, unfolding myself from the blanket holding me prisoner.

“I've known long before you, okay?” he snapped.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Oh, yes. There's an easy thing to bring up, isn't it?” he mocked. “Hey, Aspen, I just wanted to tell you that you'll likely damn the world one day. Can I get a sugar packet for my tea?”

“You could have told me at the hospital when you kidnapped me―”

“I did not kidnap you! I got you out of there to somewhere safe.”

“And why wasn't the hospital safe?” I asked, the nerves in my belly rising while the chaos of my thoughts tried to take hold.

“I can't say . . .”

“Was it the doctors? The nurses? Was the Shadow there?” I rambled, panic taking hold.

“I
can't say,” he repeated, staring me down viciously.

“Am I safe anywhere?” I asked, swallowing hard.

He fought with himself before answering.

“
No .”

“Not even now?”

“Not even now.”

The thoughts that had disappeared with my slumber returned violently, assaulting my mind all at once.

Not safe . . .

Never safe.

He'll find you.

You cannot escape him.

Evil shall reign . . .

He will see to that.

“Aspen,” he yelled, shaking me like a ragdoll. His grip burned my arms. “Snap out of it. You have to fight. You have to fight this madness. I will help you, but―”

“I cannot win . . . ,” I stated, my fear temporarily quashed by realization. “He will come for me, and you can't keep me safe. Nobody can . . .”

“This is not over yet,” he said softly, pulling me against him while I trembled. My fear had returned as quickly as it had left.

“Can I trust you, Merrick? Can I trust your words?” I mumbled as he rocked me.

“No,” he whispered. “Not even me. You can trust no one but yourself, Aspen. It's the only way to be sure. Treachery and lies surround you. Promises are empty. Words misleading. You have to go with your instincts―your gut―when the time comes.”

My gut

My gut told me that, despite the cacophony of paranoia cluttering my mind, Merrick was not in my house, on my bed, because he wanted to harm me. He'd told me not to trust him because he was maybe one of the few people I could. His advice was selfless. He was willing to be turned away in the name of my own safety. My own sanity.

Instead, I let him stay.

A knock at the door brought me out of my drowsiness and Merrick to his feet in a flash, poised for a fight.

“Who is it?” I called out, my voice shaky. Merrick shot me a glance, pressing his index finger to his lips while he stalked toward the door.

“Aspen, it's Julian. Are you all right?” he replied, trying the knob on the door unsuccessfully. “I tried your phone, but then I checked my voicemail and realized it’s broken. Something happened today―something at the convent. I need to talk to you about it. Please, let me in.”

His voice was thick with concern, and my heart ached because of it.

“I'm coming,” I yelled, jumping up from the bed. Merrick caught my arm on the way to the door, pulling me in close to him.

“Remember what I said,” he growled so low that it was barely audible at all. “Trust nobody but yourself.”

As my nerves raced, he silently crawled out my bedroom window and disappeared into the night, leaving me alone.

“Aspen,” Julian repeated, again trying to enter the locked room.

“Sorry,” I said with a shake of my head.

Without any further pause, I opened the door to find an uncharacteristically shaken-looking Julian before me. His hair danced wildly around him and his clothes were wrinkled and askew, leading me to believe he hadn't slept at all.

“Thank God you're okay,” he gasped, crushing me into his arms―the second pair of arms to hold me that night. Strangely, they lacked a certain comfort that Merrick's possessed. As a result, I pulled away slightly. “I've been worried sick.”

“I'm really tired, Julian.” I hesitated just enough for him to question my words, and my incessant glancing at the open window in the corner didn't seem to help either. It was far too cold to have it open.

His gaze was questioning, and I squirmed under the weight of it. The voices in my head picked up speed, serving only to whip me into a mental frenzy.

Run.

Don't trust him.

Escape . . .

“Do you know what happened today at the convent?” he asked, softening his expression. “Mother Superior . . . she was―”

“Murdered.”

“Yes,” he replied, cocking his head to the side. “How did you know? The press hasn't released anything about it yet, Aspen. The only reason I know is because my dad is close with the chief of police and they were together when he got the call.”

“I know because I was there.” My reply was abrupt and short. That was all I could manage while I battled the urge to flee. “Why are you so concerned that I know this? You know how I felt about her.”

“You were there?” he gasped with disbelief. “Did you see Sister Mary Constance? She's gone missing. They can't find her anywhere.”

“She's dead too,” I told him, my voice strangely lifeless. “She's behind the wall of the bookshelf in Mother Superior's office. There's a movable panel. They'll find her corpse there.”

“Aspen,” Julian cried, shaking me gently. I hadn't realized I wasn't looking at him when I spoke.

“Yes?”

“Do you realize what you just said?”

“Yes.”

“I don't think you do. You just told me you saw two of your mentors dead, Aspen.”