nature. Maybe I’ll change my mind once I see what’s missing. Speaking of which, I should get going.”
“Yes, I suppose you should.”
Still, he didn’t move. “This isn’t the way I had hoped to end the evening,” he said at last.
“Why? What had you hoped to do?”
Teague pulled her into his arms and kissed her—thoroughly.
When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, he stared steadily into her face, not saying a word.
Shea blinked a time or two. “Oh,” she murmured faintly.
He brushed a strand of soft dark hair back off her cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” she whispered, making it sound like a question.
He left her slumped against the wall, breathing hard and looking dazed. Dazed, but happy.
And despite the fact that he probably wasn’t going to get any sleep at all, Teague whistled all the way back to Strawberry Point.
SIX
Shea didn’t head immediately for Massacre Island the next morning even though she was anxious to get through the rest of the photo albums. She went first to the Liberty Public Library to see what information they had on possession. There she enlisted the aid of Emily Freitag, the local librarian. Ms. Freitag was eager to help Shea locate sources for her hypothetical psychology research paper since she herself had a strong interest in psi phenomena, having grown up in a haunted house.
As she put it, “I’ve always adored reading about ‘ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggety beasties / And things that go bump in the night.’”
Since Ms. Freitag looked like the stereotypical librarian, prim and elderly with a salt-and-pepper bun, lavender-flowered dress, and glasses slipping halfway down her nose, her tastes surprised Shea, who’d had the woman pegged as the Danielle Steel type.
“I’m mainly interested in actual case studies of possession,” Shea said.
“Hmm.” Ms. Freitag adjusted her bifocals. “There was that incident with the boy in suburban Washington—the one William Blatty based
The Exorcist
on.”
“Isn’t that movie about a girl who’s possessed by demons?”
The librarian nodded. “Right. In the book and the movie. But the actual case involved a little boy, and in my humble opinion, it sounded more like poltergeist activity than possession.” She fell silent for a moment, staring fixedly at her computer monitor.
“Anything else?”
“Of course there are always the poor deluded souls who’re convinced they’ve been possessed by Elvis or Napoleon.”
“I don’t think so.”
Ms. Freitag frowned. “How about that little girl from Illinois,” she said slowly, frowning fiercely as she dredged the details from the depths of her memory. “Funny name. Yancy? Delancey? Something like that. She was purportedly possessed by the soul of another girl who had died some years before.”
“That sounds more like it,” Shea said.
The older woman gave her an odd look. “More like what?”
“More like what I’m interested in,” she said hastily. “Not possession by demons or celebrities but by plain ordinary people.”
“Plain, ordinary
dead
people.”
“Okay, dead people, but ordinary people who lived ordinary lives, not devils or demons or even historical figures. Where could I find something about the girl with the odd name?”
Ms. Freitag tapped away at the keyboard, thenprinted out a list of relevant references. “Good luck,” she said.
Volumes had been written on the topic of possession, much of it scientific or pseudo-scientific, and none of it describing phenomena resembling that of her own experiences. Even the story of young Lurancy Vennum, the Watseka Wonder, whose body supposedly had been inhabited for some months by the spirit of Mary Roff, a girl who’d died twelve years previously, offered little parallel.
Lurancy hadn’t just inherited Mary’s memories; she’d also inherited the girl’s identity. Her own personality had disappeared. For the period of her possession, she had recognized her own
“Yes, I suppose you should.”
Still, he didn’t move. “This isn’t the way I had hoped to end the evening,” he said at last.
“Why? What had you hoped to do?”
Teague pulled her into his arms and kissed her—thoroughly.
When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, he stared steadily into her face, not saying a word.
Shea blinked a time or two. “Oh,” she murmured faintly.
He brushed a strand of soft dark hair back off her cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” she whispered, making it sound like a question.
He left her slumped against the wall, breathing hard and looking dazed. Dazed, but happy.
And despite the fact that he probably wasn’t going to get any sleep at all, Teague whistled all the way back to Strawberry Point.
SIX
Shea didn’t head immediately for Massacre Island the next morning even though she was anxious to get through the rest of the photo albums. She went first to the Liberty Public Library to see what information they had on possession. There she enlisted the aid of Emily Freitag, the local librarian. Ms. Freitag was eager to help Shea locate sources for her hypothetical psychology research paper since she herself had a strong interest in psi phenomena, having grown up in a haunted house.
As she put it, “I’ve always adored reading about ‘ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggety beasties / And things that go bump in the night.’”
Since Ms. Freitag looked like the stereotypical librarian, prim and elderly with a salt-and-pepper bun, lavender-flowered dress, and glasses slipping halfway down her nose, her tastes surprised Shea, who’d had the woman pegged as the Danielle Steel type.
“I’m mainly interested in actual case studies of possession,” Shea said.
“Hmm.” Ms. Freitag adjusted her bifocals. “There was that incident with the boy in suburban Washington—the one William Blatty based
The Exorcist
on.”
“Isn’t that movie about a girl who’s possessed by demons?”
The librarian nodded. “Right. In the book and the movie. But the actual case involved a little boy, and in my humble opinion, it sounded more like poltergeist activity than possession.” She fell silent for a moment, staring fixedly at her computer monitor.
“Anything else?”
“Of course there are always the poor deluded souls who’re convinced they’ve been possessed by Elvis or Napoleon.”
“I don’t think so.”
Ms. Freitag frowned. “How about that little girl from Illinois,” she said slowly, frowning fiercely as she dredged the details from the depths of her memory. “Funny name. Yancy? Delancey? Something like that. She was purportedly possessed by the soul of another girl who had died some years before.”
“That sounds more like it,” Shea said.
The older woman gave her an odd look. “More like what?”
“More like what I’m interested in,” she said hastily. “Not possession by demons or celebrities but by plain ordinary people.”
“Plain, ordinary
dead
people.”
“Okay, dead people, but ordinary people who lived ordinary lives, not devils or demons or even historical figures. Where could I find something about the girl with the odd name?”
Ms. Freitag tapped away at the keyboard, thenprinted out a list of relevant references. “Good luck,” she said.
Volumes had been written on the topic of possession, much of it scientific or pseudo-scientific, and none of it describing phenomena resembling that of her own experiences. Even the story of young Lurancy Vennum, the Watseka Wonder, whose body supposedly had been inhabited for some months by the spirit of Mary Roff, a girl who’d died twelve years previously, offered little parallel.
Lurancy hadn’t just inherited Mary’s memories; she’d also inherited the girl’s identity. Her own personality had disappeared. For the period of her possession, she had recognized her own
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