Her lips never stopped moving.

The fourth stage, the final stage: “I attack this evil. Bind its powers, end its darkness, confine its wrath…. I command this demon to leave, transfer to these objects forever. I command it to leave this body. I command it never to come back.”

The shrill wail that ricocheted off the surfaces of their house was inhuman, not of animal, not of man. It was a sound not of this world.

Vera finished the last line of the final blessing and opened her eyes.

The rotting, tortured being crashed back to earth, muscles convulsing, tendons popping. Blood poured from its nose in a congealed burgundy gush. Its head heaved back, brittle curls lifting, then abruptly its chest flung forward and it gagged, blood vessels bursting in its eyes as it retched, still fighting their prayers.

Then black greasy liquid spewed from split lips with a bubbling gurgle, and Vera thrust the objects beneath it. The hard hat, black with the ash of the dead and full of shattered, poisonous glass, caught the inky secretion that spilled from the monster. On impact, the liquid absorbed into the shards of the crystal chalice, dissolving, disappearing, erasing. The beast hurled, chest cast forward and seizing, until the body was wrung clean.

Then it stopped.

Everything.

The room was silent.

The winds stilled.

The cries ceased.

The chanting halted.

Not a finger twitched.

Not a hair blew.

Then the body before them rested a hand on its knees and pushed itself upright.

“Maxwell?” she said.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Max

“Mom?”

Max rushed toward her, throwing his arms around his mother for the first time in…what? Weeks? Months?

She curled into his chest. “What happened? Oh, Maxwell. I’m so sorry.”

She sobbed with a force he hadn’t heard since that day, since they stood outside the community center.

“Mom, you’re okay. I got you.” He stroked her hair. It felt soft, almost silky.

He pulled back and looked at her face. Her tan skin was red and blotchy as tears stained her cheeks, but her lips were no longer cracked. Her nose was no longer bleeding. No oozing sores covered her skin. Her eyes were a dark, rich maple, not burning hunks of coal. How could this be?

He turned to Vera.

Her lips were parted, eyes blinking like she couldn’t believe the scene was real. Or maybe she couldn’t believe that she had done this.

Yes, she did this. She saved his mom.

“Thank you,” he mouthed, feeling language lacked words big enough to describe how he felt.

His mother flung herself at him again, gripping him like a life raft.

“I’m so sorry,” she pleaded.

“I know. I know.” He patted her hair.

“Where’s Chloe?” Aunt Tilda asked.

“Chloe!” his mom howled, collapsing.

“In my truck. I locked her in. I think she’s okay,” Max said.

Aunt Tilda nodded as if accepting her mission and started walking toward the door.

Then Vera reached out. “Aunt Tilda!” she called. Her aunt spun around. “Thank you.”