Page 109 of The Exorcism of Faeries
“We take off the masks,” Sonder answered. “We keep going on our own. Do you agree?” He looked across the car at Atta.
“I do.”
She didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. There were overlapping lullabies on rotation in her head, but not the kind that lull to sleep, the kind that usher in nightmares.
Atta
Sonder and Gibbs made everyone a hearty meal of salad, shrimp, lamb, and roasted potatoes.
Atta could tell he was thrilled to have the house full, but she also knew that excitement would wear off soon, and he’d wish they were alone again as recluses. They all gathered around the massive, polished oak table in Murdoch Manor’s formal dining room and came up with their next steps.
To say Imogen wasn’t convinced would be an understatement, but they couldn’t very well have her wandering about the manor and stumble upon something, or walk on eggshells in their discussions because they’d left her in the dark.
After a dessert of espresso and madeleines, Gibbs handed everyone detailed schedules as Sonder spoke. “Emmy and Gibbs will take all Stage 1s and the stray Stage 2s. Marguerite will handle Stage 2s as long as there is someone to accompany her. Atta and I will do so on a rotation. We will also be handling all Stage 3s and Stage 4s.”
He looked pointedly at Imogen. “You will remain in this house.” She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand. “Call foul, abduction, whatever you’d like all you want but you’ll be dead inside a week if you choose to be an eejit.”
Imogen’s eyes went from slits to saucers. “I should call the Garda on the whole psycho lot of you.”
Done with her attitude over the last two days and her one attempted escape, Sonder rose and stomped off, returning with the kitchen telephone he’d apparently ripped from the wall if the outlet cover and bits of plasterboard dangling from the telephone jack were any indication. He slammed it down on the table. “Be my fucking guest. It’s your death, not mine.”
Imogen gaped up at him, a madeleine still between her fingers. “No, thank you,” she said meekly.
Sonder ignored her and returned to his seat. “Next schedule, please, Gibbs.” Another paper landed in front of each of them, save for Imogen. “This is the schedule for who has the great honour of watching over Imogen and at what times during the night. Nighttime is when we most suspect an Inhabitation attempt.”
Imogen snatched a schedule from Gibbs next to her and scoffed. Emmy was looking at the other paper, her nose scrunched. “I’m not so sure I’m ready for this. It says our first exorcism is tomorrow. I literally just started learning two days ago.”
“It isn’t as complicated as it seems,” Atta reassured her. “I could ward the cellar and let one of the faeries out as a trial run if you’d like.”
She could tell by Sonder’s face that he didn’t like the idea, but he didn’t fight her on it.
“Sure.” Emmy nodded and looked at Gibbs. “It’s a good idea.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“We’ll head down in a few, then,” Atta decided.
“I have papers to mark tonight.” Marguerite stood, wiping her mouth delicately with a cloth napkin and laying it on the table. “I’ll meet you at the first appointment in the morning, Sonder.”
Gibbs began clearing the plates, but Sonder waved him off. “Go with them to the cellar, I’ll clean all this up.”
“Am I free to watch the telly,” Imogen sniped with her arms crossed, “or do prisoners not get the privilege?”
Sonder pinched the bridge of his nose. “Someone else please deal with her. I need a cigar.”
Gibbs got Imogen settled in her guestroom for the evening and met Emmy and Atta down in the cellar.
When they weren’t studying the creatures, they kept them locked away there with a plethora of wards that, coupled with their various levels of embalming fluids, had thus far been successful.
Emmy approached the third they’d trapped alive, using a specially prepared dose of one part Sonder’s embalming fluid, and two parts Yarrow, Rue, St John’s Wort, iron, and moonwater mixture. It left the creature suspended in mid-flight, but its heart beat and its eyes blinked. Every so often, it managed to gnash its pointed teeth.
Emmy moved down the line to one of only two faeries they’d left almost untouched. “Why do you keep them? It seems dangerous.”
“It is,” Atta confirmed. “But we need to understand them. I told you our theory for why they’re Inhabiting humans, but we still aren’t quite sure where they’re coming from.
Liar, Liar, trapped in briar, sliced by thorns and thrown in the fire.
The faerie slammed against the glass of its enclosure, startling Emmy. Atta swore the creature laughed. She could hear it clanging around in her skull.
