bed. The seizure, though violent, was short-lived. Her mouth hung slack while white, frothy bubbles flowed freely. He wiped them away with a corner of a pillowcase.
“I’m calling 9-1-1,” Alice said, fumbling for her cell phone.
“They won’t come out in this storm.”
“I don’t care. We need help.”
A shock ran through him when he placed his hand on Cassandra’s chest.
She’s not breathing!
Brian placed a hand behind her neck and tilted her chin up. He bent an index finger and scooped it along the inside of her mouth.
“Brian, what’s wrong?”
“She’s not breathing,” he replied, panic building in his chest. He probed with his finger. “She didn’t swallow her tongue and nothing’s lodged in her throat that I can see.”
Cupping his hands together, he started giving her chest compressions. Alice stood beside him, weeping now, waiting for 9-1-1 dispatch to answer the line.
Another roar from the hurricane slammed the house.
Outside the bedroom door, they heard the slow, steady approach of footsteps.
The boy, his face thrown into deathly shadows by the flickering candlelight, walked into the room.
Alice dropped her phone and staggered back against the far wall. Her mouth hung open, locked in a silent scream.
Brian turned to face the boy, James Thomas, and shouted, “No! You can’t have her! She’s not yours to take!”
He continued with the chest compressions, his eyes darting between Cassandra and the boy who stood beside the bed, waiting.
Louisa’s voice echoed in his head.
He wants Cassandra. Right now, she’s in a place that’s not quite life, not quite death. It’s a place where the bhoot can grab hold of her. She’s in his domain.
The boy walked closer, reaching out with a tiny hand to touch her.
“Mommy.”
The words were clear, but his lips didn’t move.
“No! She’s not your mother!” Brian screamed.
“Come on baby, come back to me.” His voice quivered with desperation. His arms ached and tears stung his eyes.
One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand, push!
Cassandra’s body suddenly arced beneath him and she gasped for air.
“Mommy?”
Brian struggled to get his weight off her chest and stomach.
The boy watched him with cold eyes from the other side of the bed.
Cassandra’s eyes fluttered open. Brian pulled her body to the far end of the bed, away from the boy. He wrapped his arms around her chest, grateful to feel it rise and fall with the rush of air. Her skin was cold and clammy but she was awake and alive.
Alice stood frozen in her fear, behind the bhoot.
When he kissed Cassandra’s cold lips, she struggled to say, “B-Brian?” His name came out in a dry, pained rasp.
“Yes, Cass, it’s me. Did you hear me calling for you?”
Her eyes rolled and her head turned to the boy. His face had gone slack, emotionless. She turned back to Brian, confused. She whispered, “I’m never going to leave you. I love you.”
Brian’s body shook with sobs. “I know, honey, I know.”
He locked gazes with the boy and felt the contempt, the despair. The door slammed shut, opened and closed again with deliberate, violent force. The floor quaked and the lathing in the ceiling sounded like it was being pulled apart.
The boy reached out to Cassandra. Brian tightened his grip on her, edging her further away from the bhoot ’s grasp.
Cassandra screamed, “No! No! No!”
The image of James Thomas began to fade, becoming more ghost-like. His body turned to mist. Only his eyes stayed in sharp focus, clouded with anger, with confusion, and finally, with pained acceptance.
When Cassandra shouted, he broke apart, parts of him reduced to dark shadows fleeing in all directions like a spooked murder of crows.
Outside, the brunt of the storm passed, leaving an ear-popping silence in its wake. Their cries filled the room as the electricity returned, bathing them in soft, white light.
“I’m calling 9-1-1,” Alice said, fumbling for her cell phone.
“They won’t come out in this storm.”
“I don’t care. We need help.”
A shock ran through him when he placed his hand on Cassandra’s chest.
She’s not breathing!
Brian placed a hand behind her neck and tilted her chin up. He bent an index finger and scooped it along the inside of her mouth.
“Brian, what’s wrong?”
“She’s not breathing,” he replied, panic building in his chest. He probed with his finger. “She didn’t swallow her tongue and nothing’s lodged in her throat that I can see.”
Cupping his hands together, he started giving her chest compressions. Alice stood beside him, weeping now, waiting for 9-1-1 dispatch to answer the line.
Another roar from the hurricane slammed the house.
Outside the bedroom door, they heard the slow, steady approach of footsteps.
The boy, his face thrown into deathly shadows by the flickering candlelight, walked into the room.
Alice dropped her phone and staggered back against the far wall. Her mouth hung open, locked in a silent scream.
Brian turned to face the boy, James Thomas, and shouted, “No! You can’t have her! She’s not yours to take!”
He continued with the chest compressions, his eyes darting between Cassandra and the boy who stood beside the bed, waiting.
Louisa’s voice echoed in his head.
He wants Cassandra. Right now, she’s in a place that’s not quite life, not quite death. It’s a place where the bhoot can grab hold of her. She’s in his domain.
The boy walked closer, reaching out with a tiny hand to touch her.
“Mommy.”
The words were clear, but his lips didn’t move.
“No! She’s not your mother!” Brian screamed.
“Come on baby, come back to me.” His voice quivered with desperation. His arms ached and tears stung his eyes.
One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand, push!
Cassandra’s body suddenly arced beneath him and she gasped for air.
“Mommy?”
Brian struggled to get his weight off her chest and stomach.
The boy watched him with cold eyes from the other side of the bed.
Cassandra’s eyes fluttered open. Brian pulled her body to the far end of the bed, away from the boy. He wrapped his arms around her chest, grateful to feel it rise and fall with the rush of air. Her skin was cold and clammy but she was awake and alive.
Alice stood frozen in her fear, behind the bhoot.
When he kissed Cassandra’s cold lips, she struggled to say, “B-Brian?” His name came out in a dry, pained rasp.
“Yes, Cass, it’s me. Did you hear me calling for you?”
Her eyes rolled and her head turned to the boy. His face had gone slack, emotionless. She turned back to Brian, confused. She whispered, “I’m never going to leave you. I love you.”
Brian’s body shook with sobs. “I know, honey, I know.”
He locked gazes with the boy and felt the contempt, the despair. The door slammed shut, opened and closed again with deliberate, violent force. The floor quaked and the lathing in the ceiling sounded like it was being pulled apart.
The boy reached out to Cassandra. Brian tightened his grip on her, edging her further away from the bhoot ’s grasp.
Cassandra screamed, “No! No! No!”
The image of James Thomas began to fade, becoming more ghost-like. His body turned to mist. Only his eyes stayed in sharp focus, clouded with anger, with confusion, and finally, with pained acceptance.
When Cassandra shouted, he broke apart, parts of him reduced to dark shadows fleeing in all directions like a spooked murder of crows.
Outside, the brunt of the storm passed, leaving an ear-popping silence in its wake. Their cries filled the room as the electricity returned, bathing them in soft, white light.
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