The New Neighbor

already allowed it into your home, then into your mind, and the next step is -'

'Pastor,' Karen said, still cradling Monroe in her arms, 'we appreciate your concern, but the idea of Lorelle Dupree being a… a demon is -'

'Crazy? I suppose it does sound crazy. But the world is full of things that sound crazy. That doesn’t make them any less real. But we have protected ourselves from them, shut them out so we aren’t exposed to them. So much of what we do is just an effort to shut out all the things that seem crazy… or scary. We’ve created religion, ritual, tradition… even the family is a protective measure, a way of insulating ourselves from the frightening darkness beyond the glow of our fires. I, of course, play a part in that insulation. Religion is one of the things people turn to for comfort and reassurance when they get a glimpse of the unknown. In the end, all we really have is each other. And that’s why I’m here. Your neighbor knows this. She is pitting you against each other right now, and you will – “

”Get the fuck out of my house!' George roared, taking a couple of steps toward Quillerman.

Dead silence fell over the room as the pastor stared at him, a look of satisfaction on his face, then: 'You see?' he whispered. 'This is not how you normally behave, George.” He looked around at all of them. “This is not how any of you behave. Can’t you see what she’s doing to you?”

George's fists were clenched and trembling at his sides. He opened his mouth to shout something again, but Robby spoke up quickly.

'Dad, you know it's true! She tore a hole in your bedroom wall. She flew through your bedroom wall! She chased me! She's not human, Dad, and you know it.' He looked at Karen and Jen, too. 'We all know it. So why don't we admit it and stop letting her do this to us!'

George stared at his son intensely for a long moment, then backed up slowly and lowered himself back into the chair. He leaned forward on the dining room table. His arms began to shake, just a little at first, but when he tried to speak they got worse.

'Well, whuh-what… what do we, um… wh-what're we supposed to… I mean, what's -' He stopped suddenly, arms quaking so hard they rattled the table. He slapped a hand over his mouth, closed his eyes tightly and pressed his arms down on the table hard to stop the shaking. After sitting like that for a while with the others staring at him, he pulled his hand away and muttered, 'What've we done?' Then, quickly: 'I-I mean, no, no, I mean, what'll we do?'

Pastor Quillerman turned to Karen and, with nothing more than a tilt of his head and the look in his eye, asked her if she agreed.

She looked away from him, rubbed her cheek against the top of Monroe's head then made a movement that might have been a conciliatory shrug.

Jen frowned, then nodded slowly.

Quillerman already knew how Robby felt, so he didn't bother asking.

“First,” the pastor said, “you need each other. So whatever animosity you may feel toward each other right now, whatever feelings of anger or betrayal have been created by this situation – you need to let go of them. You need to forgive one another. And yourselves. She will use whatever she can to pull you apart. You've opened yourselves up to her and now she knows all she needs to know to finish her work in this house.'

George asked hoarsely, “And… what is that work?”

'Well, apparently she's already finished with the Garrys. And from the looks of things when I arrived here, she came close to finishing with you this morning. Murder and suicide are among the signatures of the succubus.”

'Then what?' Robby said.

'First, we have to gain the support of everyone on this street who has been seduced by Lorelle Dupree. That won't be easy, especially with all those reporters out there, but we'll do our best -' He turned to Robby. ' – won't we?'

Robby nodded.

'I have to drive over to the church to pick something up,' Quillerman said. 'It won't take long, but should you need me, I’ll give you my cell number.”

'What are you getting?' Robby asked.

'Something to make it a little easier to talk to your neighbors. “

Robby followed Pastor Quillerman to the door, where the man turned to him.

'You seem to have the best handle on all of this, Robby,” he whispered. “Help them. They'll need it. I'll be right back.'

He was gone.

Robby turned and started back toward the kitchen. The closer he got, the worse his feeling of dread became. What was he going to do? What could he say to them?

Karen was gone.

George was still seated at the table.

As Robby walked in, Jen started out.

'Where you going?' Robby whispered.

'My room. I-yum…I think I'll take a nap, maybe.' She looked tired and a little confused as she left.

Robby went to the table, scooted a chair over and seated himself close to his dad. 'You okay?' he asked.

He didn't answer for a while, then: 'Yeah. Yeah, son, I'm fine.'

'Where'd Mom go?'

'I don't know.'

Robby stiffened before speaking again, bracing himself, knowing he might be making a mistake. 'Don't you think maybe you should… you know, go talk to her?'

George rubbed both hands over his face, slowly massaging his eyes, then stood. 'Yeah. Maybe I should. Right now, though, I'm gonna do something about that hole in the bedroom wall.' He walked away slowly as he muttered to himself: 'Have to call a carpenter… may be get that tarp outta the garage… cover it with that for now… “

Robby was alone.

* * * *

Outside, only a few of the reporters remained, and they were taking cover because the sky had become even darker and threatened more rain.

A thin, low mist permeated the neighborhood. It had appeared out of nowhere in seconds, swirling over the ground, seeping through shrubs, curling around the corners of houses and licking teasingly at the walls.

When the mist first moved in, a few dogs barked wildly up and down the street and a cat darted in several directions – from yard to yard, from one side of the street to the other – before going up a tree, as if to get away from the mist.

Other than the animals, however, no one paid the mist any attention… so no one noticed its swirling movement just beneath Jen Pritchard's bedroom window.

* * * *

Jen took the straight-back chair away from her dressing table, turned it around and straddled the back, leaning her chin on her wrists. She'd opened a package of Pop Rocks and put a few of the little pebble-like candies in her mouth. They fizzed and popped. She felt like she had a head full of Pop Rocks. Her thoughts exploded before she could complete them, then a new one would begin, only to end abruptly before another began to take shape.

What had they gotten into? Was it too late to get out?

When she thought of the things she'd been doing, she felt sick with self-hatred, as if Pastor Quillerman's arrival had been a glass of ice water thrown in her face that had startled her into hyper consciousness.

She wanted to go back to the day before Lorelle Dupree's arrival and do something that might have prevented all that had happened afterward. But what could she have done? There had to be something she could have done or said that might have strengthened the connection