Chapter 6

"Thank you for seeing me, Father."

The small hundred year-old Catholic church was across town and stood amid a grove of gnarled and twisted trees bent by the course winds which often ravaged the cape.

"You're welcome, my Dear," said the sixtyish, rather frail man, offering her a seat in his study. "Now what may I do for you? Your voice on the phone made it sound rather urgent."

"It is. I'll come right to the point. I'd like to have you perform an exorcism."

He smiled. "My dear, do you know how long it's been since the church authorized an exorcism? The belief in demonic possession is no longer a valid church tenet."

"Father, there is something -- someone in our house."

"Like a spirit?"

"Yes, except they can touch you ... hurt you."

"Mrs. Dennison, what you are talking about is not possession which is a demonic spirit inhabiting the body of a person. This sounds more like a haunting -- ghosts."

"Call them what you want. I want to know if you can get rid of them?"

"My dear, the church really doesn't get into ghost hunting."

"I know it sounds crazy. If it were happening to someone else I wouldn't believe it either, but they ARE real, Father. They've hurt me."

"You spoke of your daughter on the phone. Has she been hurt by these spirits?"

"No. So far she doesn't even know they are there."

"So you're the only one to have seen them?"

"Well, not SEE them exactly. They're invisible. But when they grab me, hurt me, they feel just like a real person."

"They?"

"There are two of them. I'm pretty certain I know who they are -- Simon and Sarah Crowley."

The priest smiled knowingly. "Ah, the Crowley's. So you've heard the stories."

"Look, I know what you're thinking; that I heard the stories and hallucinated the attacks. But I was attacked BEFORE I heard about the Crowleys.

"Mrs. Dennison, isn't it possible that -- well, that old house is out there all by itself. That in itself must be a bit frightening. Add to that the creaking of an old house and the wind that sweeps in across the cape and..."

"I'm telling you the truth!" she said, her tone taking on that of impatience.

"Yes, well, perhaps I could come out tomorrow and bless the house."

"Will that drive the ghosts away?"

"I will bless each room. If there are unwanted spirits, hopefully they will leave."

"Oh would you, Father? I'd be so grateful."

"Of course. Why don't I come by ... say about two tomorrow afternoon?"

"That would be wonderful. I don't know how to thank you," she said, rising to leave.

"Just try to relax, get a good night's sleep and I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

Lynette spent a restless but uneventful night and was feeling hopeful as the Priest drove up outside the following afternoon.

"Any more problems?" he asked.

"Not since we talked, no, but I live in constant fear that they'll..."

"Try to ally your fears, my dear. Let me get to work."

With that he placed the prayer shawl about his shoulders, picked up his bible and began reciting litanies in Latin and sprinkling water about the room.

"The holy water will consecrate the house," he said continuing the prayers and moving on to another room. The entire ritual took only about twenty minutes. He then proceeded outside and continued blessing the grounds as well. "All done," he smiled returning and gathering his materials.

"I don't know how to thank you."

"Are you Catholic?"

"No, a lapsed Episcopalian."

"Close enough!" he laughed. "Actually the Episcopal church is only a block or so from our church. Why don't you try a visit? If for any reason you don't feel comfortable there, we would be glad to have you worship with us."

"To tell you the truth, Father, I've never been much of a church goer."

"You never know. Perhaps you'll give it a try."

"Perhaps."

With a final kind smile he turned, got into his car and was gone.

Feeling better, Lynette entered the house for the first time in days without a sense of foreboding. To her the house felt different. almost as if a veil had been lifted from it -- or was it her? Unwilling to analyze too deeply, she simply enjoyed the afternoon writing and doing a little gardening.

It was Marissa's day off at the library and she was catching up on some repairs; a hinge on the kitchen cabinet which prevented the door from closing properly and after that re-caulking the bathroom sink.

She had just finished putting away the caulking gun when the doorbell rang.

"Why, Cherie, what a pleasant surprise! Come in. What brings you out this way?" she asked, ushering the teen into the living room where they both sat on the sofa.

Marissa wore jeans and blouse while Cherie was dressed in a form fitting mini skirt, her developing breasts accentuated while, by crossing her legs, the skirt rode quite high exposing a great deal of leg and thigh.

"I came to see you because I think it's time we get to know each other better."

Lynette had not yet said anything to either Marissa or Cherie about the other, but Cherie, while not actually lying to her mother, had chosen to leave out some essential details about her budding lesbianism. True, she and Trudy had kissed, but they had also done a lot more than that in the deserted band room that afternoon. And Trudy had not been the sole recipient of Cherie's wiles. At least three other girls had succumbed to Cherie's charms already and that was only at her new school. At the school back in the city, she had actually acquired the reputation of a femme fatale who had already, at the tender age of fifteen, initiated a number of other willing girls into the joys of feminine sexuality.

She was no predator and seduced only those who showed an interest and were willing, but Cherie was alluring when she wanted to be and had already become experienced far beyond her years. Whether it was innocent teen or sultry seductress that was called for, Cherie was up to the task.

She had sensed Marissa's sexual orientation within minutes of meeting her for the first time and felt immediately attracted to the lovely woman. Even though Cherie's experience had thus far been with other teens, she was determined to explore a relationship with someone more mature. Quite frankly she found high school girls too immature to interest her other than as short term amusement, and longed for more.

Cherie noticed Marissa's eyes glance to the teens' shapely legs then quickly look away. The girl smiled to herself. Marissa was already on the defensive.

"You know, I envy Mom."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because she found such an attractive, intelligent and charming woman to be her friend."

"Why thank you, Cherie, but you and I can certainly be friends too."

"I've been counting on that. Mom says you're great. Of course she'll never know just how great."

"I don't..."

"Mom's straight. She has no idea just how much of a woman you really are."

Marissa was shocked. "Cherie, I don't think that is any..."

"Of my business? Oh, but it is, Marissa. You see, you and I are more alike than you could imagine."

"Cherie! You mean... ?"

"That's right," replied the teen, catching Marissa's eyes and holding them with a knowing smile.

Flustered, the librarian's mind quickly replayed the hug Marissa had given her the other night and how they both had reacted. But she'd simply had no idea that Cherie...

"Uh, would you like something to drink. I have some tea brewing," offered Marissa trying to buy time to determine why Cherie had chosen to come here and revel such an intimate secret, and to buy herself some time to figure out how she should react.

"No thanks. I was thinking of something sweeter," said Cherie as she scooted much closer to the older woman.

"Well, I think I have some pop in the fridge. I could..."

"Sweeter still," smiled Cherie seductively and leaning toward Marissa.

The twenty-eight year old was taken aback. If she didn't know better she would swear Cherie was coming on to her. But that was nonsense. After all, she was thirteen years older than..."

By now, Cherie was supremely self confident. She saw the unsureness in Marissa's eyes and decided on a direst approach.

"Don't look surprised, Marissa. We both know why I'm here."

At last Marissa put together Cherie's moving closer, the seductive smile and the teen's arm reaching out to rest on the back of the sofa so tantalizingly close.

"Perhaps I'd better check on the tea..." began Marissa starting to arise from the sofa.

"And perhaps you'd better stay here with me," countered Cherie, her hand at last touching the librarian's shoulder.

"I ... yes, of course," mumbled Marissa, Cherie's eyes finding and holding hers.