The Psychic Legacy

Chapter 13: Motivation

A booming voice echoed through the room, even from the other side of the door. "Ready yourself," someone called. "We're preparing for the exorcism now—we'll come for you soon." The retreat of the stranger's footsteps echoed after them, growing more distant.

I swallowed hard. The exorcism... It would be a total understatement to say I wasn't looking forward to it. The spirit inside me didn't seem psyched about it either. They were shivering, though they didn't say anything.

I looked at Luc. "What are we going to do?"

He was just slumped against the wall. His face was still blank. "Go through with it," he said, his voice empty and flat.

"What?" I shouted. My voice rang through the small cell. "You want me to go through the exorcism?! I can't—I can't go through that again—"

"That presence that's possessing can't stay," Luc said, his empty eyes finally dragging to meet mine. "One way or another, it needs to go. And it doesn't appear we're going to get another chance to do it my way..."

"No!" I said, leaping to my feet. I scanned the room again, looking for some way out of the tiny room that we had somehow missed before. "We have to get out of here!"

"And how do you propose we do that?" Luc snapped. His voice was sharp, but at least there was light in his eyes again. "What are you going to do, Rachel? You're not—" he stopped himself.

But I knew what he was going to say—you're not psychic. Even though it wasn't exactly news to me, it still hurt. He really didn't think I could be of any use.

He took a deep breath before he continued. "Even I can't break through these barriers and if I'm not strong enough to take them on, then Tory, Ethan, Polly—they have no chance in hell. And that's if they even know where we are..."

I continued to search the room. "Well, that doesn't mean that we have to—" I started, but my voice suddenly cracked. Sudden tears spilled down my cheeks. I swiped at my cheeks to chase them away. "We don't have to just give up."

The spirit tensed, gently squeezing me. If I didn't know any better, it had felt like... like a hug... from the inside. Weird.

Be brave, the stranger's voice whispered inside my head. I'll help you.

How? I asked back.

They didn't reply.

"I'm not asking you to give up," Luc said, sitting up. "Just try and cooperate with them, Rachel. Maybe it will be easier if you don't fight them."

I opened my mouth to object when another pounding knock reverberated through the door. Luc got to his feet, too.

"It's time," came the same booming voice from the other side.

The door opened. I scrambled away, pressing myself against the far wall. Three women appeared behind the door. They stepped through into the room, blocking the only exit. There was nowhere to go. I felt like a mouse cornered by a cat.

The women that stood before us were all very different. One couldn't have been more than eighteen, with thick black hair; the other—the one in front—was middle-aged, with silver running through her taut red bun; and just behind her was a hunched old woman, completely bald, who looked older than Matilda, even older than Ethan's grandmother. Each one of them was wearing a blue cloak and carrying a thin wooden staff that was covered in intricate carvings.

"Now, please don't resist," said the eldest one. "We don't want to hurt you."

Bullshit. I scowled at them, shrinking back against the wall.