Gypsy of Spirits: Prequel to So Fell the Sparrow (2 page)

“Did you try and hide it from your father?”

Jackie laughed, though it held little humor. “I should have, but no. I was too curious, too naïve. It wasn’t until he pulled his belt on me one evening after catching me talking to Henry that I considered ignoring my gift. But even after the beating, I couldn’t resist. The dead continued to call me for help, for guidance. I suppose I wasn’t strong enough to say no to them. Over the years my gift grew stronger, and with each additional beating my father grew more and more aggravated that I wasn’t getting better. He started locking me in my room, keeping me away from outsiders. He was ashamed and frightened of me. He reached out to our priest for guidance, suggesting an exorcism. Fortunately for me, the priest evaluated my case and determined there was no evidence of demonic possession. He refused to perform the exorcism.”

“That’s good.”

An old, familiar pain hit Jackie’s heart. “It was. But
unfortunately
for me, my father decided to attempt the exorcism himself.”

Rachel’s face went slack with horror. “That’s awful.”

“Exorcisms can’t be performed by just anyone. You have to be a priest and have permission from the church itself. My father was just a tailor with no experience in rituals as damaging as an exorcism.”

The memories flooded back, blindingly hot and real. She saw herself as she had been at thirteen, wild dark hair and slender, coltish body. She’d been tied to a chair in the basement, her hands bound behind her back by twine with more of it wrapped around her chest, pinning her arms to her sides. Her legs had kicked helplessly until he bound those too.

She remembered pleading with him, begging him to leave her alone. His face had flushed red with indignation, with hate. He’d crossed her forehead, then himself, angry tears in his eyes.

Be gone, devil!
he’d cried and splashed holy water on her face. He’d thrust the wooden cross of his beloved heirloom rosary before her, as if eager to see her flesh burn from the holy image.

Except it hadn’t because she wasn’t possessed. Words could not convince him, leaving her helpless and at his mercy. Instead of showing compassion he only ramped up his efforts.

In his right hand he’d clutched the
Rite of Exorcism,
a book filled with the prayers needed for the ritual. He’d read them off fervently, feverishly, nearly mad in his attempt to free her from the Devil. To free her from her gift.

Therefore, I adjure you every unclean spirit, every specter from hell, every satanic power, in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, who was led into the desert after His baptism by John to vanquish you in your citadel, to cease your assaults against the creature whom He has formed from the slime of the earth for His own honor and glory…

“What happened after?” Rachel asked, bringing Jackie back to the present.

“He looked me in the eyes and asked me if I was myself again,” Jackie replied, remembering distinctly how there was more revulsion in his expression than concern.

“What did you tell him?”

“I said I had always been myself.” She wiped away a tear that fell down her cheek. “So he left me there and went to talk to the priest again. When the priest found out what he did, he rescued me from the basement and threatened to contact the police if my father attempted to harm me again.”

“Did he?”

Jackie brushed back a strand of hair that the wind had tossed into her face. “He kept his promise because he had to, but that didn’t stop him from forcing me to pray and fast, which the priest recommended. He spread blessed salt around my room and burned blessed incense and candles all hours of the day, consumed by his belief that I was still under the influence of Satan. We didn’t speak to each other for months.

“I had a very strict curfew. I was only allowed to leave the house for school and church, and as a result I had few friends and no one I could trust. The only consolation was that I still had Henry and the other spirits, and they kept me hopeful that my future was brighter than my father’s prison.”

“I’m sorry.” Rachel bit her lower lip, unsure what else to say.

Jackie’s mouth curved. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not. My experiences shaped and empowered me. By the time I ran away from home at sixteen, I was stronger than I ever imagined I could be.”

“So where did you go?”

“I had a little bit of money stashed away, enough to get me on a bus south. I went as far as I could go and ended up in Toledo. I found a local Catholic church and offered to clean toilets and sweep floors in exchange for a place to stay. They took me in, and also helped me get work organizing books at the local library.

“But I couldn’t stay in Toledo. I had to keep moving, to get as far away from my father as I could. A few months later I’d saved up enough money to take a bus down to Louisville where I got a job waiting tables with a room to stay in above the restaurant. It wasn’t much, but I was free.”

“Did your father ever find you?”

Jackie shook her head. “No. I don’t know if he even tried. I imagine he was happy to be rid of me.”

“But you were still his daughter, despite everything,” Rachel argued, brows creased. “He must have loved you still.”

“I think in the beginning he thought of me as his daughter, but after all the years of trying to beat the demon out of me I could see the love fade from his eyes. When he looked at me he only saw evil. It came to the point that instead of trying to save me, he was just trying to protect himself
from
me.”

“Do you think he’s still up there in Michigan?” Rachel asked. Her eyes widened as a second thought hit her. “And when he dies will you see his spirit? Then he’ll know you were telling the truth all along.”

Jackie laughed. “Not every spirit lingers, darling. Only those with a purpose to fulfill, or with a stain on their soul that holds them back. He may simply move on to his intended place.”

Rachel looked uneasy. “Wait, do you think there’s a stain on my soul and that’s why I haven’t moved on?”

“No.” Jackie turned to face her, sincerity in her eyes. “I can tell you are not stained, Rachel. You have a purpose left to fulfill.”

“To say goodbye to my parents?” Rachel wondered, sadness passing over her face.

Jackie nodded. “Most likely.”

“Okay.” Rachel took a deep breath, somewhat relieved. “We’re almost there, just a few more miles.”

Jackie’s eyes passed to the dashboard clock and saw it was nearly three a.m. Rachel’s parents were likely asleep, still grieving over the loss of their daughter. Hopefully soon they would see Rachel in a dream or hear her voice and take comfort that she was okay.

“So what happened after Louisville?”

Jackie smiled. “I saved up again and continued south until I reached the Gulf. I stayed in New Orleans for just over a year, waiting tables, making friends. I guess I really found myself there.

“I was eighteen when I met The Gypsies. That’s what they called themselves, anyway.” She laughed and her heart filled with a warm, quiet ache. “There were three of them, teens like myself that came from bad homes and were in search of freedom. They’d wafted into town in this tired old Volkswagen bus and I ran into them one day on Bourbon Street. Dominic was strumming his guitar and Hannah played her sax, while Bobby had this lovely old bass guitar that he’d inherited from his grandfather. As I was walking past them on the street something stopped me. It drew me to them, like a moth to a flame. So I sat down and just listened, and Dominic began to sing to me. He looked into my eyes and I knew I’d found a familiar soul. A week later, I joined them on the road.”

Rachel sighed wistfully. “Did you love him?”

Jackie blinked then let out a quick laugh. “Dominic? No. I’ve never been in love. Though I guess you could say what we shared was as close to love as anything I’ve ever known.”

“Did he love you?”

Jackie shot her a knowing look. “What I’ve learned is that romance is never the fairytale you want it to be, Rachel. In real life, it’s much more complicated, chaotic, and painful.”

Rachel’s brow furrowed. “So then what did you mean by familiar soul, if not soul mate?”

“I meant I saw in him the same things in myself that I’d always thought were abnormal. He couldn’t see spirits the way I could, but he did occasionally see auras and he had the most poetic, troubled heart. Unfortunately, as the years went on, he fell into self-abusive habits to cope with the emotional pain he felt, and I had no choice but to distance myself from him.”

“You didn’t try to help him?”

Jackie sighed. “There was no helping him. His demons were buried so deep, embedded in his very bones. One time he opened himself up to me spiritually, and I witnessed the events that happened in his childhood that damaged him so greatly. He’d been abused by his uncle, not just once, but continuously over the course of seven years since the age of six.”

Rachel’s face fell. “That’s horrible.”

“It was,” Jackie agreed, extending her hand outside the open window to coast the air. “I didn’t stay with The Gypsies for very long, as fate took me down other paths. Every once in awhile over the years I found my way back to them but never permanently. At some point they all split off, landing in different corners of the country. I heard Bobby died last year of an overdose in San Francisco, and Hannah is married with kids in Salt Lake City, living the white-picket-fence life.”

“And Dominic?”

“He wanders, as I do. Last I heard, he was in Massachusetts somewhere near Salem.”

“Have you ever been there?” Rachel asked, looking wistful again. “I always wanted to visit Salem.”

“I’ve been lucky enough to see most of the country and many other places. I dated a guy once who let me tag along while he backpacked through Europe. I’ve lived out of hostels and motels, and when I eventually had the chance to buy this Jeep, I lived out of it for awhile.”

Sadness darkened Rachel’s eyes. “Doesn’t it get old? Don’t you ever want something, like,
familiar
to come home to every day?”

“This life is not for everyone, but for me, it’s perfect. I guess you could say I’m a wanderer with perpetually itchy feet, taken by the wind.”

Rachel sighed. “You lead a fascinating life. I wish I could have the same chance…”

Jackie looked at her kindly. “There are great things to come for you, darling. You are not finished just because your physical body has died.”

Rachel nodded, though she didn’t look convinced “I hope so.”

“I know so.” Jackie turned her attention back to the road as it swooped around another bend and came upon a lone house in the wilderness. Rachel pointed to a small dirt driveway noticeable only because of the bright blue mailbox beside it.

“That’s it. My house.” Rachel’s hands wrung together in her lap as Jackie pulled to the side of the road. They met eyes, and Rachel shivered. “What do I do?”

“You’ll know.” Jackie’s eyes brightened as she took in the worried looking teen beside her. “I hope I didn’t bore you with the story of my life. I don’t make a habit out of telling people about my past.”

“No, it helped. It really did.” Rachel let out a rush of breath, the moonlight glowing over her hair and ghostly pale skin. “You made me feel better. I felt so lost, so afraid, before.”

“Just remember that you are not alone.”

“Where will you go now?” Rachel asked.

Jackie shrugged. “The wind carried me to you. Now it will take me to someone else who needs my help.”

Rachel looked past Jackie to her parents’ house, a bittersweet feeling coming over her. “You know, this one time my parents took me on vacation to this cool coastal town in Massachusetts. I think you’d like it there.”

“What’s it called?”

Rachel’s eyes shifted back to hers. “Mad Rock Harbor. I don’t know what made me think of it, but for some reason I have a feeling you’re needed there.”

Jackie reached behind her to pet Gatsby, her lips curving in a smile. “Then that is where I shall go. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen Dominic; maybe I’ll stop in on him.”

“See, it
is
fate.” Rachel beamed, pleased she had contributed in some small way to Jackie’s mission. She twirled a piece of her blonde hair around her finger, biting her lower lip. “Well, I guess this is goodbye.”

“No goodbye is ever permanent. We will meet again, if not in this world then the next.”

Rachel reached out to lay her hand over Jackie’s on the steering wheel. The ghostly chill sent tingles through Jackie’s skin. “Cool. See you.”

Their eyes held and when Jackie blinked, Rachel was gone. The tingling feeling remained, and she rubbed at her skin. She was pleased to help the girl find her purpose though departing was always bittersweet. She would continue on her path, while Rachel would move on to her intended place.

In the backseat, Gatsby yawned and let out a polite bark.

“I know, I know.” Jackie laughed and reached back to help him into the passenger seat. He hopped over and smiled up at her, tongue lolling out. “How does Mad Rock Harbor sound, my love?”

He barked again, stamping his front two feet excitedly.