The wraparound porch was long and sheltered with pretty white awnings and posts. A pair of wicker rocking chairs sat beside a table still set for afternoon tea. Insects had laid claim to the biscuits on the plate and the tea in the china cups had grown moldy. A string of rosary beads lay on the ground as if someone had dropped them in a great hurry. The screen door looked scratched and the mesh torn as if someone had tried to rip it from its hinges. Xavier and Gabriel exchanged uncertain glances.
“Here goes,” Xavier said with a heavy sigh. He reached out and lightly pressed the brass doorbell. Immediately the sound of chimes echoed dimly from within. For several long minutes they were met with nothing but silence.
“They can’t ignore us forever.” Ivy folded her arms across her chest. “Ring again.”
Xavier obliged, holding the bell down longer. The chimes reverberated more loudly this time, sounding almost ominous as if heralding a message of impending disaster. If only the sisters knew that help was waiting outside. There was a rustling sound in the foyer, but the door remained unopened. Ivy or Gabriel could have blown it apart in a heartbeat, but I supposed that wasn’t the best impression to make when trying to convince a nervous nun that you’re on the same side.
“Please open the door.” Gabriel leaned against the fly screen, his words coaxing. “We’ve come to help.” The door opened a crack, the security chain still on. A face appeared and surveyed my brother with caution.
“My name is Gabriel, this is my sister and these are our friends,” he continued soothingly. “May I ask your name?”
“I’m Sister Faith,” the nun replied. “Why are you here?” She was soft-spoken, but I could hear her voice was distorted with fear. Ivy decided to step forward and declare their intentions.
“We know about Sister Mary Clare and the cause of her illness,” she said in a voice filled with compassion. “You don’t have to hide anymore. The creature that has overtaken her — we can send it away.”
“You can do that?” Hope crept into the nun’s voice, but only for an instant before she became suspicious again. “I’m sorry I don’t believe you. We’ve called on every priest and minister in the county. They’re powerless against it. What makes you any different?”
“You have to trust us,” Ivy’s said solemnly.
“Trust is somethin’ we’re a little short on these days.” The nun’s voice broke off with a quiver.
“We know things,” Ivy pressed. “We have knowledge others cannot possess.”
“How can I be sure you’re not one of them.”
“I take it you believe in God, Sister,” Gabriel said.
“I’ve seen things …” Sister Faith’s voice faltered, as though she were unsure what to believe anymore. Then she remembered herself. “Of course I do.”
“Then believe that He is here now,” Gabriel said. “I know your faith has been tested in the extreme, but it is not without cause. You have been touched by darkness, but you have not been broken. Now you shall be touched by light. Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven. Let us in, Sister; let God return to your home. If you turn us away you are succumbing to darkness.”
Molly stared openmouthed at my brother and there was a dead silence from inside the house. Then, slowly, the security chain was released and the front door of the abbey swung open. Sister Faith stood in the doorway, her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh my stars,” she whispered. “So He has not forsaken us.” Sister Faith was a robust-looking woman in her sixties with pale skin and a fresh-scrubbed face. Faint wrinkles were etched around her eyes and mouth and I wondered how many of those she had accumulated over the last few months. A lamp on the hall table illuminated the wide foyer and curved staircase, but there was a stale smell in the air.
While Gabriel and the others made their introductions I moved away to study the framed black-and-white photographs on the wall. The glass in every frame had been shattered so the images were blurred, but I saw they recorded the official opening of the convent in 1863. Originally the convent had been built to house a group of Irish nuns who ran it for half a century as an orphanage and refuge for young women who’d fallen into disrepute.
Sister Faith led us silently past a parlor where rows of thin mattresses had been lined up on the floor — the sisters were clearly too afraid to sleep upstairs. As we climbed the sweeping staircase I caught a glimpse of the storerooms, infirmary, and a rustic-looking kitchen all located on the ground floor. The place would have been beautiful once; cozy in winter, bright and airy in the summer, but now it was a broken home. The kitchen floor was littered with broken utensils as if someone had thrown them around the room. Broken chairs were stacked in a corner and torn linen lay in a heap by the door. I guessed from these observations that the sisters had tried to expel the demon on their own with little success. I looked away from the shredded pages of a Holy Bible. The sight made something deep inside me churn. It was strange to visit an earthly location so damaged by demonic activity. Something fierce and terrible had shaken the house to its very foundations, knocking over ceramic vases and toppling furniture. It was also stiflingly warm, and even in my spirit form I felt the heat crawling across my skin as though it were alive. Molly immediately tore off her jacket, but the others didn’t move, despite their discomfort.
On the second floor we passed the sleeping quarters with rows of cell-size bedrooms now stripped of their mattresses and the communal bathrooms. Finally we stopped at a winding mahogany stairwell leading to the attic where Sister Mary Clare had been isolated for her own safety as well as the safety of others. Sister Faith hovered uncertainly at the foot.
“Can you really return Sister Mary Clare to the hands of God?” she asked.
“We’ll need to assess her condition before we can answer that,” Gabriel replied. “But we will certainly try.”
Ivy touched Sister Faith gently on the arm. “Will you take us to her?”
The nun peered worriedly at Xavier and Molly. “All of you?” she asked in small voice. “Are you sure about that?”
Gabriel gave a tight smile. “They’re tougher than they look.”
At the top of the stairs was a single locked door. I could sense the evil pulsing behind it even in my astral form. It was like a physical force, trying to repel the presence of Ivy and Gabriel. In addition to the mustiness there was another smell seeping from under the door, the smell of rotting fruit when the flesh has turned saggy and gray and insects have begun to burrow into it. Xavier flinched while Molly coughed and covered her nose. My siblings showed no reaction. They stood together, shoulders touching in a gesture of complete unity.
“I do apologize about the smell,” Sister Faith said self consciously. “But there’s only so much air freshener can do.”
Outside the door, only a candle lit the tiny landing. It sat on an antique dresser dripping wax onto its silver holder. Sister Faith dug into her deep pockets to produce an old-fashioned brass key. Behind the door we could hear muffled thumps, ragged breathing, and the screech of a chair being dragged across timber boards. A sound like grinding teeth and a sharp crack like snapping bone followed. Sister Faith crossed herself and looked desperately at Gabriel.