Free The Haunting of the Gemini by Jackie Barrett Page A

them.
    â€œOh, Jackie, I know how to hurt you! It begins with an
M
. Come on, guess.
Bzz!
Your time is up. The word is
mother
. Mother. Mother. She didn’t love you, Jackie.”
    I reached the top of the stairs and straightened my tortured back. A huge wall of fire blocked the door. I still felt the peace of the angel statue. I could do this. I smirked back at the voice and then walked through the fire. It was nothing, just an illusion, gone in an instant. I stood in the church. Light shone through the stained glass and fell on a large crucifix. It was beautiful and godly, and it did not stop him.
    â€œI’m a man with many talents . . . I go by different names. That you already know. I have workers—soldiers of destruction that don’t even realize I exist. A simple gesture from me or a flicker of a thought put into their simple minds. That’s all it takes and the job is done—and I go on . . . Now, let’s cut to the chase. One of my best and, yes, favorite soldiers is missing something. Oh, I was so proud of him. Bringing New York City to its knees, causing my favorite elements—mayhem and chaos.”
    He switched from boasting about his minion to targeting his quarry.
    â€œShe has been hiding, waiting. Getting the prized medium’s attention!” He was pleased with that. Pleased that he saw a way into me. “The girl with the gift carries a high price . . . like a bounty. What a trophy you would be. The magic you can spin excites me.”
    His voice continued to echo through the church. “What do you say we have a meeting of minds . . . You’ll get your sanity back, and my masked man stays happy—my soul eater. A fascinating young man, striking. He carried the Bible all day, stalked the streets by night.”
    He asked if I liked astrology. I braced myself as the ceiling of the church peeled away and stars appeared with lines connecting the signs of the zodiac.
    I stumbled to the front of the church, where a golden chalice sat upon a marble altar, and I prayed for God to please be with me. The altar melted away, and in its place stood a table, set for tea. A little girl was serving a cookie to a large man in a mask. As she placed the cookie on his plate, she knocked over the chalice. Blood spilled down the white tablecloth and dripped loudly onto the floor. The masked man pulled her onto his lap.
    â€œHow does it feel to have something that doesn’t belong to you?”
    I screamed so loudly my lungs hurt. “Let her go! Let
me
go!”
    His taunts continued over my screams. “No one will believe you,” he yelled as I turned to flee. “They’ll think you’re insane. A schizophrenic.” It was my deepest fear—the torment of a fractured mind, the affliction of schizophrenia. I ran.
    A gentle tug stopped me. An old man had grasped the sleeve of my sweatshirt and now chided me for running in church. As I turned to tell him that I meant no disrespect, I saw that the tea party was gone. Only the quiet altar and the gleaming chalice remained. I felt like my mind was fracturing right then and there.
    The man said he was the church’s caretaker and guided me to a pew. He sat next to me, but I stared straight ahead. I didn’t know what to say anymore. No one would believe me. Somehow, I had known this day would come.
    â€œI think I’m losing my mind,” I whispered to this caretaker. “I’m seeing things and hearing things. They appear, then disappear. I’m becoming something else . . . someone else.”
    His eyes were so kind. I went on talking, trying to explain it to him and to myself. I had always lived on that fine line that most people didn’t know even existed. I could look through a two-way mirror, an ordinary girl born with an extraordinary gift that at any moment could turn into a curse. If I was able to see demons, then they were able to see me.