The Banishing (26 page)

* * * *

The plan sounded perfect in her head, but doing it would be,
could
be, something else entirely. She knew that.

Mark would get home around six. Melissa would give him a drink of something—and in it, she would add sleeping pills. A safe amount, but enough to wipe him out. She knew what the limit should be. There
had
been helpful things she had come to learn while working at the ICU.

Mark would be out like a light.

Then, Josh—if there was any part of him capable of helping her out with this—would drive Mark to the nearest hotel and reserve a room for him, put him to bed, and leave him there to sleep it off. Mark wouldn’t know anything.

Meanwhile, Melissa would have time to do the banishing ritual.

The problem was the pact itself—the person to be offered to the demon instead of Mark. His replacement. Somebody she could have move in—even if just for a short while. It wouldn’t have to take long…hadn’t it only take a few weeks before Mark changed? The temper tantrums. Arguments. Then, the raised fists.

The phone rang. It was Sharon.

Melissa picked up the call, and then, all her answers came at once.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“Why do you sound so happy?”

Sharon’s good mood radiated down the line. “Jonathon!” she said, her voice light, happy.

“What about him?” Melissa tried to remain calm, despite the storm raging in her head. She paced her lounge, the phone pressed to her ear.

“I really think he could be the one.”

Melissa smiled to herself. “Didn’t you say that about the last…two?”

Sharon sighed. “Yeah, well. Third time lucky, right?”

“I’m glad it’s going so well for you. I didn’t think it was anything, you know, serious.”

“Neither did I, but he said those three magic words this morning, when I phoned him on my break.”

“He told you he loved you?”

Sharon burst into laughter, again, and Melissa couldn’t help but warm to the sound of her friend’s obvious happiness.

“I’m so glad for you. Really. You deserve it.”

Then, the idea came. The thought came. Unbidden. Almost forbidden, at first, but it settled itself into her mind, and Melissa spoke the thought aloud without thinking it further. “While we’re on the subject of you and Jonathon,” she said, her voice low and hesitant, “how long are two going to keep staying over at each other’s homes like lovesick teenagers? If it really is that serious, then maybe you should think about finding a place together.”

Sharon paused. Silence down the line for a moment, then; “I don’t know. We haven’t really spoken much about it, but—”

“Much?” Interrupted Melissa, trying to find a way to her opportunity. “He
has
mentioned it, then?”

Sharon laughed. “Well, yeah he has but nothing definite. He just mentioned it in passing, and—”

“Why don’t you grab the bull by the horns and bring it up to him?” Melissa said, more forcefully than she intended. Desperation spurred her on, and at the same time, a feeling of nausea swept over her. The betrayal of every word she was speaking stabbing at her conscience like knives. What am I becoming? How did I get here? She turned, looked over at the photograph of Mark, and felt a fresh wave of resolve. Wasn’t this what she
had
to do? Right now, wasn’t this a case of saving the man she loved?

“I could do that, but there’s no rush,” Sharon said, breaking into Melissa’s thoughts.

“My advice to you is don’t sit on this. Look what happened to the last two. I want this to work out for you. You can’t be afraid of commitment.”

Sharon sighed heavily. “What is this? How did we even get onto the topic of moving in together?”

Melissa reigned her thoughts and her words back, trying to remain calm and to dress her desperation in shrouds of casualness. “I just…Mark and I have been talking,” she lied, “and we decided that after all we’ve been through recently, we just want a new start. We’re talking about moving, and quickly. We just want to do it as quickly as possible.”

“Mark wants to move, and so do you? Wasn’t that place the so-called house of your dreams?” Sharon retorted. Melissa picked up on the change in her friend’s tone. Was she sensing something wasn’t quite as it seemed?

Melissa forced a laugh. “Yeah, well, a lot has happened between us, and I think we’re making amends. I just want to draw a line underneath it and start afresh, you know? So we’re looking for a quick move.”

“Selling?” Sharon asked.

“Renting the place out. Somebody can stay there…look after the place. You were the first person I thought of, actually. I thought things were going so well with you and Jonathon, now—”

“I’m not sure. It’s a nice idea, but—”

“It’d be cheap. It could be on a temporary basis, until you decide if you want to stay. If you want to stay, then I can lease it to you for as long as…well, whatever. If you decide you don’t want to stay, I suppose Mark and I could sell it or whatever…”

Sharon was silent at the other end. Her silence felt like an ocean of eternity.

Finally, Sharon broke the silence. “It is a nice place, I suppose. Are you sure this is definitely happening? There‘s no point in even considering this if you‘ll change your minds by tomorrow—”

“Mark said he wants to. We want out any day now. We are letting the place furnished, too. Surely it’s better than your little one bedroom flat. I’ll match the price you’re paying on your flat,” Melissa ranted, desperate to convince her friend.
What’s gotten into me?
Melissa thought of her friend on the other end of the phone, remembering how she’d been there for her, a good friend. Could she do this to Sharon? The more worrying thought persisted, ugly and ruthless in its truth: What would happen if she didn’t take this chance, if she didn’t ask Sharon to do this? How long did Mark have left before he lashed out and did…something more than what he’d already done. Melissa tried to mold the idea into something more manageable, but it was the undeniable truth. Mark could kill her. He could kill himself if this went on. How far can a demon take him? Can the road go on much further?

Sharon sighed. “You’re seriously letting me have a two bedroom house with a garden and garage for $450 a month?”

“Sure. Only because we want to get this done quickly. By the time we’d advertise it, pay agents fees, and everything else, it will take ages—and a lot of money. Mark can’t be bothered with all that. Besides, it’s only a temporary thing, right?”

Sharon chuckled. “Shit. I don’t know. I’d have to talk to Jonathon about it. I mean, it’s a good offer and everything. It’s just I never exactly planned on this. Do you know what I mean? You kind of dumped it on me, Mel!”

Melissa grimaced, stunned and unsure of what to say. The women were silent for a moment, then Sharon said, “Look, I’ll take it, if you’re sure. Even if Jonathon doesn’t come with me, I can still afford it. That’s if you’re sure you will accept $450 a month.”

Can it work without Jonathon?
Melissa didn’t know. The thought jutted in her mind, awkward and immobile.
Would the demon touch Sharon if it couldn’t get Jonathon?
“I’m sure he’d want to though, right?” Melissa pressed.

“It
would
be lovely,” Sharon admitted. “Why don’t you give me an hour. I’m going to his place after work, and I’ll let you know what he says.”

“Okay, but please get back to me as soon as you know. It’s kind of important. If you don‘t want it, I need to find someone else.”

“Thanks, Mel,” Sharon said, and Melissa could feel her smile travel down the phone. “You’re a good friend, offering me the place first. Especially a house like that. You could easily get $600 a month for a house like that.”

“What are friends for?” Melissa said, her face stony, flat, and lifeless.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Melissa was in the bedroom, staring at her reflection. Naked, she let her eyes roam every inch of her body, every mark and blemish on her skin, and winced at the sight.

The ugliness. The bones that jutted out. A hideous reminder of the last few months. With every day that she was losing Mark, she was also losing herself. Dying a little, each day.

That’s why I have to do what I have to do.
After she hung up the phone, she vomited in the toilet, barely reaching the bathroom in time before her stomach lurched violently contracting. Eventually, her body had succumbed, and she ended up on her knees, her head tilted forward, bringing up nothing but liquid and bile.

It was what she had done—to Sharon—and what she was about to do that had made her sick. Sick with guilt, and she knew it.

Father Owens’s words rang in her mind, like an omen. A warning.
A price to pay for what she was doing
, and she knew it was true. Melissa knew what she was doing was wrong, but one look at Mark, one more night of being hurt, punched, kicked, humiliated, raped…she couldn’t take it. If her memory didn’t carry the man she loved so strongly, she couldn’t have done any of it. Mark lived there, and she saw the good soul he was—the man he was—and wanted him back. She knew then and there she would have done anything.

What lived in the house, the rooms that caged something so dark, so malevolent, had pushed her to this. Melissa tried to balance out the act. Settle the bill in her mind. The banishing ritual was the only real answer she had found. It was her only chance at getting back the normal, happy life that she craved. Getting her love back.

The phone rang, cracking in the silence. Melissa ran to the phone. “Hi, Sharon?”

A laugh down the line confirmed what she needed to know. Without having to ask, Melissa simply said, “When are you moving in?”

Sharon shrieked and shouted, “Any day you want! Jonathon says he’ll come with!”

It felt wrong—disgusting, even—but it had to be this way.
Wouldn’t anyone else do the same for the one they love?

She promised to call Sharon tomorrow, then hung up. There was nothing to do now but wait until Mark returned.

Then, the banishing would begin.

* * * *

She pulled on a black sweater and jeans, brushed through her hair, went downstairs, and sat in the lounge.

Waiting, waiting.

Waiting.

The clock on the fireplace ticked slowly, each second agonizingly slow. Time had reached a plateau and begrudgingly moved forward in tiny, infinitesimal steps.

When she heard the van pull up outside, she leapt to her feet, ran to the front door, and opened it, stepping aside so Mark could enter.

She smiled at him—at the hope she now had—and moved forward to kiss him as he entered, but he raised his hand and pushed her away. His eyes were shadowy and black and his body hunched forward, as if he was carrying the weight of the world.

Melissa shut the door behind him and followed him into the kitchen. “How was your day?” she asked, watching as he poured himself a glass of water from the tap.

“Fine.” His voice was low, almost a growl.

“Things will be okay, you know?” she said.

He turned to her, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve and smirked.

“What’s funny?” she asked, suddenly scared of the look passing over him.

“Nothing.”

He threw the glass in the sink and turned back to her. “Actually, you are,” he rasped.

“What?”
Shit. Not now.
Melissa took a step back and leaned against the kitchen doorframe.

“You’re funny!” he repeated. “Your funny little life with your funny little shit-fucking job, and your funny little body that even an animal wouldn’t want to fuck—”

“Stop it!” Melissa shrieked, surprised at the power in her own voice.

Mark, silent for a moment, smirked again. Something dark slivered beneath his eyes, and she saw it for what it was; the thing living beneath him, enjoying its taunts, its wicked, ugly ways. “Stop it,” she repeated, but now her voice was barely a whisper.

Mark walked slowly over to her, his eyes steadying on hers. When he was standing in front of her, he leaned forward so that his mouth was to her ear and whispered, “I want to fuck you, tonight.”

Melissa almost gagged at the smell emanating from her husband. It was a deep, musky, dirty, decomposing odor that seemed to seep from his body, from his every pore. She tried to back away, but he leaned forward and grabbed her by the wrist. “If you don’t,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper of air, “you will die, and I will do it. I will enjoy it. I will love it. I will love seeing you breathe your last breath, and—”

“You want to do me?” she exploded, her face reddened with anger, with a rage she didn’t know she was capable of feeling. “Me? Funny, little me? I thought even an animal didn’t want to fuck me? What does that make
you
?” she roared.

Mark’s face rippled, as if something shifted beneath his skin, and he lifted his hand to her face and punched her hard. She felt her lip split, the skin torn open, in the same place he had hurt her before. She reached up, touched her face, and when she looked at her fingertips, she saw that they were covered in thick, red blood.