The Merciless (7 page)

A hand slaps the outside of the glass, slamming the window shut on my fingers.

Bright, hot pain rips through my hands. I cry out and try to pull away, but the window pins my fingers in place. The clouds move, bathing Riley in moonlight.

She studies me with those gray eyes, then leans into the window with her shoulder, pressing it against my fingers.

“Can't let you leave now, Sof.” Riley moves away from the glass, and the window swings open. I snatch my hands away, my breathing ragged. Blood oozes around my knuckles and drips down my wrist, staining the sleeves of my cardigan.

“Clean yourself up,” Riley says. “We're just getting started.”

I
drop to my knees on the cold bathroom floor and fumble for the roll of toilet paper next to the toilet, clumsily mopping up the blood dripping from my fingers. I open my hand, then close it again, testing. Nothing's broken.

Someone pounds at the door. “Hurry up, Sof.” The wood muffles Riley's voice. “We're waiting.”

I take two deep breaths. My lungs burn and my head feels dizzy. It's just Riley. Riley, who gossiped with me about boys while drinking red wine. Riley, who insisted I eat with her after finding that dead cat. She's not crazy—she just snapped. The real Riley's still in there.

Besides, I can't stay in the bathroom forever. I lick my thumb and wipe the blood from my knuckles. Then I push the door open.

The moonlight from the bathroom window illuminates Riley's narrow shoulders and long, skinny arms. She cocks her head, and her dark curls pool on one shoulder. She looks just like a doll.

“Go back to the basement,” she says. “I need to take care of that.”

She nods at the bathroom. She's holding a nail gun. She pushes past me to nail the last remaining exit in this house shut.

“Riley, think about this,” I say. Riley turns. She doesn't smile, but the creases around her eyes and mouth soften. She takes my hand, squeezing just above my wrist.

“I know you're scared, Sofia,” she says. “I know that's why you tried to run. But if you're not with me, you're against me.”

She tightens her grip, just enough to pinch the skin at my wrist. I cringe and pull my arm away.

“I'm with you,” I say, glancing down at the nail gun.

“Good,” Riley says. “Now go.”

Shadows stretch across the hallway, making it hard to see where I'm going. I find a light switch in the kitchen and flip it on and then off, but nothing happens. Cursing, I push the basement door open, gripping for the banister in the dark. I feel for the top step with the toe of my sneaker.

Grace peeks around the concrete wall, hovering at the bottom of the stairs. “Are you coming down?”

“Grace,” I say, relieved. Shadows hide her face, so I picture the hollow, unfocused expression she wore on the porch. Alexis will side with Riley no matter what, but Grace is different. She can't think what's going on down there is okay. “I think Riley . . .”

The basement door opens behind me, cutting me off. I turn.

Riley steps onto the staircase. Only the outline of her narrow body is visible in the dim light. She pulls the door shut, and something metallic thumps against the wood. I shift my eyes to the door, noticing a thick padlock attached to the frame.

“What is that?”

“Riley put it up,” Grace says.

“We don't want anyone sneaking in on us,” Riley adds.

I blink against the darkness. She clicks the lock closed, then slips the key into her pocket. She's not locking everyone else out; she's locking us in.

“Hurry up, girls,” Riley says, starting down the stairs. “We have work to do.”

Grace shuffles farther into the basement without a word. I follow, but every time I place my foot on a creaky step a new image flashes through my head: first the backpack filled with wine and holy water, then the windows nailed shut, and now the brand-new padlock attached to the door. It must've taken days to do all this, weeks maybe. I picture Riley nailing the upstairs window shut seconds before we all arrived at the house to drink wine and gossip about Josh, Riley stopping at the hardware store to buy a new padlock on the afternoon I walked to the tattoo parlor with Brooklyn. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans.

Alexis is crouched next to Brooklyn, whispering. She glances up as the three of us approach and pushes her wispy hair behind one ear. She's surrounded Brooklyn with flickering candles. She motions to the one she's still holding.

“I read that demons are afraid of fire,” she says, blinking her wide eyes.

“Good plan, Lexie,” Riley coos. “It's like we're surrounding her with a circle of light, to pull her away from the darkness.”

Riley squeezes my shoulder. “Yeah, good thinking,” I add, and she beams at me.

Alexis puts the last candle down on the floor and stands. “We're all here now. We should get started.”

She reaches for my hand while Riley takes the other one. Together with Grace we form a semicircle around Brooklyn. I don't want to look at her, but I don't have a choice, so I lift my eyes.

A sweaty strand of white-blond hair hangs over Brooklyn's face, fluttering around her nose every time she exhales. Thick black eyeliner runs down her cheeks like tears. I tighten my grip on Riley's hand. We just have to get through the exorcism. This could still be okay.

“We have to be right with God before we can begin,” Alexis explains. Brooklyn shifts her combat boot–covered foot. The sole screeches over the concrete floor. “If we want him to drive the demon away, we have to confess our own sins and ask for his forgiveness.”

An uneasy silence stretches between us, broken only by the flames licking the candlewicks. I'm not sure I want to know their sins.

“I guess I'll go first,” Grace says, fumbling with her sweatshirt zipper. She stares at her sneakers while she speaks, like she's telling her story to them instead of us. “I need a scholarship in order to afford a good college, so I have to get perfect grades. Calculus has been kicking my butt, though, and last week I stole some of my little brother's Ritalin. He has ADD, and the pills are supposed to help him concentrate. I figured they'd be good for studying.”

“Oh, Grace,” Riley says. “Why didn't you tell us you were struggling?”

“I was embarrassed,” she says, dropping her hand from her zipper. “It was just once. They helped get me through the test, but I felt woozy the whole time. I'm never taking them again.”

Riley matches Grace's gaze as she lifts her head. “Good.”

Wind presses against the tiny, rectangular window near the basement ceiling, making the glass groan. Yesterday Grace's confession might have shocked me, but in light of everything else, pill popping is pretty tame.

“Your turn,” Riley says, nodding at Alexis.

Alexis drops Grace's hand and weaves a strand of her long, blond hair around a finger. She turns to me as she begins, “Riley and Grace already know this, but my older sister, Carly, has been in the hospital for the past several months. What should be her best year as a senior she's spending in a coma, all because she accidentally ate one little peanut.” Alexis's accent deepens as she speaks, and she pauses in all the right places, as if she's told this story many times before. She whispers the word
coma
like it's too painful to say out loud.

Riley clears her throat. “That isn't your fault, Lexie,” she says.

Alexis winds the blond curl tighter and tighter around her finger. “It's not that. I should be sad all the time, but I'm just . . . not.” The candlelight flickers, reflecting in Alexis's wide, dark eyes. “Things have been easier with her gone,” she continues. “I don't have to compete with her, and we don't fight anymore. There are days I wish she'd never wake up.”

“But she's your sister,” Grace says.

“I know,” Alexis says. I can tell Alexis feels tortured by the way her voice has started to shake. But still, there's something that feels off about her confession. “I pray for forgiveness every day. God knows I want Carly to be okay.”

Grace nods, but her mouth twists in disgust. What kind of person wishes her own sister would stay in a coma?

“We forgive you, Lexie,” Riley assures her. “Carly will wake up before you know it, and you'll be happy to have her back. I'm sure of it.”

The wind rises to a howl. Grace gives Alexis an uneasy smile, and Alexis exhales in relief.

“I'll go next,” Riley says. She squares her shoulders and deliberately softens her eyes. “I always told you Josh and I were waiting for marriage, but, well, this summer at the lake house things got a little out of control.”

“Seriously?” Grace's eyes widen. “Why didn't you tell us?”

“Yeah, how out of control?” Alexis adds.

“We didn't go all the way, but we got close. I stopped him before we went too far. But sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if I didn't. It's probably my fault that . . .” Her voice cracks and she shakes her head, unable to finish her sentence. She lifts the bottle of wine to her lips, closing her eyes as she takes a drink. Lowering it, she whispers, “Forgive me, Lord.”

Another silence stretches between us, this one charged. Alexis squeezes my hand so tightly my fingers go numb, and Grace glares at her sneakers, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Riley nudges me. “Sof? Your turn now. You can tell us anything.”

I stare at the floor as their eyes settle on me. I'd been so distracted by their stories I almost forgot I had to share my own. My skin prickles, and the memory unfolds in my head before I can say a word.

• • •

I slide onto my bar stool in biology class and slip a Q-tip into a sandwich bag, writing the label with a Sharpie. I'm hunched over the table when something pokes me in the head.

“Hey!” I say, turning around. Erin stands behind me, a Q-tip in her hand. She's wearing a leather tank top with a V-neck so low it's impossible for her to wear a bra.

“Lila and I have a bet going on what the germiest thing in the classroom's going to be,” Erin says, dropping the Q-tip into a sandwich bag. “My money's on your greasy-ass hair.”

She doesn't laugh, but the students behind her giggle and snicker into their hands. I glance at Karen, who's standing across the room with Lila. She doesn't look as amused as everyone else, but she stares at her shoes and doesn't say a word.

Tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I know the worst thing I can do is cry. Instead I push back my stool and walk, quickly, from the room. By the time I get to the hallway my shoulders shake, and it's all I can do to hold back the sobs. I hear them laughing behind me. The sound echoes in my head.

• • •

“Sof?” Riley's voice brings me back to the present, and my eyes flicker open.

Alexis touches my arm. “It's okay, we're here for you.”

I swallow, shaking the memory away. Almost without realizing it, I start picking at the skin around my cuticles.

“I didn't fit in at my last school. There were these girls in my science class who always made fun of me. And . . .” I bite off the end of my sentence, not sure how to finish. Riley nudges me with her shoulder.

“And what?”

I pull at the skin around my thumbnail. “I got into a fight with one of them,” I lie. “She had to go to the hospital.”

I wish that was what happened, and I remember Grandmother telling me you can sin with your thoughts—that thinking something is almost as bad as actually doing it. If that's true, I've sinned as badly as the rest of them. I really wanted to punch Erin.

“Oh, Sofia.” Riley steps in front of me, grabbing my shoulders. She pulls me into a hug, running a hand along the back of my head. “You must've felt so alone,” she says, quietly enough that I'm sure I'm the only one who can hear her. “But you're with us now,” Riley continues. “Right where you're supposed to be.”

For a second it's easy to forget the real reason we're here and that Brooklyn is tied up in the corner. Then Riley squeezes me, and her embrace is just tight enough that I can't tell whether it's meant to be comforting—or a warning. When she pulls away she doesn't look at me again. Instead she turns to Brooklyn, her eyes narrowed.

“We've all humbled ourselves before God,” she says, taking a few steps forward. She kneels on the floor again, this time so close that her knees press against Brooklyn's frayed jeans.

“What about you?” Riley grabs the duct tape covering Brooklyn's mouth and tears it away. Brooklyn gasps, and her head lolls down to her chest. I cringe at the angry red stripe left across her face.

Riley grabs Brooklyn's chin, forcing her to meet her eyes. Some of Brooklyn's smudged eyeliner comes off on Riley's fingers. She takes a ragged, raspy breath that sounds so painful my entire chest aches.

“Are you ready to confess?” Riley asks.

For a long moment Brooklyn won't lift her eyes from the floor. She blinks rapidly, like she's fighting back tears. This is it, I realize. This is all Riley wanted. Maybe she isn't going to perform the exorcism at all—she just wants Brooklyn to admit what she did.

Finally, Brooklyn looks up at Riley. Lips trembling, she opens her mouth.

And spits in Riley's face.

“Go to hell,” she says.

R
iley wipes Brooklyn's spit from her cheek with the back of her hand. I expect her face to twist in fury, but she just stares ahead with glassy eyes, her mouth a thin, hard line. I don't see any sign of the girl I thought I knew—this Riley seems to be missing some key ingredient to make her human. She drinks from the wine bottle, then runs her tongue over her lips.

“How does it feel, bitch?” Brooklyn throws herself against her ropes, making the pillar she's tied to groan. She spits again, this time spraying Riley's foot. “I should baptize you in the name of
Satan
.”

Riley cocks her head to the side, reminding me of a hawk eyeing a mouse. “Well then. We have our work cut out for us. Alexis, what's next?”

“We must pray for Brooklyn's soul. I have the passage,” Alexis says. I chew on the inside of my cheek as she slips a faded sheet of paper from her Bible's pages. Even now, in the middle of all this, she looks flawless in a white cardigan covered in silver hearts and jean shorts. I take that as a good sign. She wouldn't have dressed nicely if she thought things were going to get violent.

“Then I'll draw the demon forth.” Riley picks up the bottle of holy water.

“Sofia, I need you.” Riley holds her free hand out to me. When I don't immediately take it, she grabs my hand and weaves her fingers through mine, pulling me closer. “We can face the demon together. Your strength will be my strength.”

I try to meet Riley's eyes, looking for some flicker of the Riley I like, the Riley I thought was my friend. Because of the position of the lamp, her eyes are in shadow and it's her smile that's illuminated. It twists into a smirk.

“Have some faith,” she says to me. She grabs Grace's hand and brings her closer into the circle.

Alexis begins to read. “We exorcise you, impure one, you satanic power.” Her clear, steady voice fills the cold corners of the basement. I want to pull my hand away from Riley's, but when I move, she squeezes tighter.

“Be humble under the powerful hand of God,” Alexis says. I shift my attention back to her, wondering where she found the ridiculous passage she's reading. It sounds like something from a bad horror movie.

Alexis's voice grows louder. “Tremble and flee!” She glances up from the Bible and studies Brooklyn's face, like she's expecting her to start writhing on the floor or for smoke to pour out of her mouth.

But Brooklyn just lifts an eyebrow. “Did you find that on Wikipedia?” she asks, snickering.

“Yeah, where did you get that, Lexie?” Grace asks, frowning.

“It's the official prayer for a ritual exorcism,” Alexis says.

Brooklyn laughs even harder. “I don't know why I was worried,” she says. “Clearly you all are pros.”

“Stop it,” Riley snaps. “It doesn't matter where the passage came from. What we say isn't as important as what we believe.”

Riley tips the bottle of holy water over Brooklyn's head. The water dribbles from the bottle, and Brooklyn flinches when it hits her, then blinks and stares at Riley.

She tilts her head so the remaining water pours over her face. She shakes her hair out, like a dog.

“Is this so I'll be ready for the wet T-shirt portion of the night?” she asks. Riley tightens her grip on the bottle, her smile hardening.

“She's making fun of us,” Riley says. “Sof, hand me the salt.”

I don't move. Riley glares at me.

“The sooner you help, the sooner all this can be over.”

“Fine.” I pull my fingers from Riley's grip. Brooklyn's right. Riley's not a professional—she's just a pissed-off teenage girl. Locking us in here was messed up, but this is just a hazing ritual, something to show Brooklyn who the alpha bitch is. I grab the jar of salt from the floor, thrusting it into Riley's hands. Most girls would just start a burn book.

Water drips from Brooklyn's hair.

“Keep going,” Riley urges, and Alexis clears her throat.

“From the snares of the devil, free us, Lord,” she continues, a little less enthusiastically than before.

Riley pours the salt in her hand and throws it. I flinch when the salt hits Brooklyn's face, but she squeezes her eyes shut and turns, so it mostly hits her hair. A few tiny white crystals cling to her wet cheeks and the corner of her mouth. Brooklyn runs her tongue along her lips.

“Next time get me some tequila and a lime to go with that,” she says. I bite back a smile.

“Heathen,” Riley hisses. She pours another handful of salt into her palm and whips it into Brooklyn's face. This time it catches her in the nose and mouth. Brooklyn swears under her breath, trying to blink the salt from her eyes. Riley throws another handful at her, and then another. When the jar is almost empty, she drops to the floor, her knees inches from Brooklyn's.

“This isn't enough for you, is it?” Riley wraps her fingers in Brooklyn's hair and yanks her head back, forcing her to look up. The corners of Brooklyn's eyes crinkle.

“Riley.” I take a step toward her. This isn't funny anymore. Even Alexis stops reading.

“This isn't how we're supposed to do it,” Alexis says, her voice wavering for the first time. The defiance fades from Brooklyn's eyes.

“Can't you see what she's doing?” Riley says. “She's laughing at us.”

Riley releases Brooklyn's hair roughly and stands. Her eyes dart to the cross hanging from Alexis's neck. I'm the only one watching Brooklyn, and I see her square her shoulders and jerk her hands apart to loosen the ropes. I want to help her, but when I take a step toward her, Brooklyn moves her head back and forth, then looks pointedly at the staircase. I frown, but I understand what she's trying to tell me. We're locked down here and it's three against one. I can't afford to challenge the others yet.

“We need something stronger,” Riley says, leveling her gaze on Alexis's necklace. “
That
. Alexis, let me borrow your cross.”

Alexis hands me her Bible without a word. She finds the chain at her neck and fumbles with the clasp. The cross drops into her hand. She holds it out for Riley.

Riley lifts the cross by its chain. “Thanks, Lexie,” she says. Riley lets the cross swing, pendulum-like, before Brooklyn's eyes.

“I exorcize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” she says. They're almost the same words she used to baptize me.

Brooklyn watches the cross sway. Her angry red eyes flick back to Riley. Riley's expression tightens. She pulls back her arm and whips the cross over Brooklyn's face. The chain flashes through the air, landing with a smack. The cross cut deep into Brooklyn's cheek, leaving a thin red line across her skin. A single drop of blood oozes down her face, like a tear.

I take a step back. “God,” I say under my breath. Any hope I had that this might not get violent drains away. We have to get out of here. Now.

“Let's try this again,” Riley says.

Suddenly Brooklyn shifts her weight to the side and whips her bound legs out from under her, ramming a combat boot into Riley's shin. Riley slams into the concrete, her wrist twisting beneath her body when she hits the floor. The cross clatters out of her hand.

“Bitch!” Riley sweeps the hair from her face and pushes herself onto all fours, wincing as she eases weight onto her wrist. Grace moves to help, but Brooklyn slams her feet into Riley again, this time striking her in the ribs. Riley collapses into Alexis, and the two of them stumble to the floor, knocking over a tea candle. The flame sputters and dies.

If it weren't for the lock on the basement door, this would be the perfect time to run. The muscles in my legs tense, but I hold myself still. By the time I think of tackling Riley and stealing the key, she's already standing again.

Brooklyn's sharp laughter fills the basement. Her eyes flicker with red light, and even though it must be the reflection of the candlelight, they look like they're glowing. “Riley, I think it's working!” she shouts. “I think I'm saved!”

“Oh my god.” Grace bunches her hands near her mouth. “Alexis, your sweater!”

A curl of smoke twists away from Alexis's back, growing thicker as it drifts toward the ceiling. Orange and blue flames lick at the tiny white hearts along her sweater's hem.

“Shit, Lexie, you're on fire!” I say.

Alexis twists around, screaming when the fire catches on her sleeve. She tries to pull the sweater off, but her hands shake so badly she can't seem to work the buttons.

I grab her arm and yank at the cardigan, not caring when the buttons pop off and clatter to the ground. Alexis flings it away from her body as the fire climbs up the sleeve. The sweater lands on another candle a few feet away, still crackling. The flames eat at a tiny pearl button, and the smoke around it fills the basement with a hazy gray cloud.

Grace mutters a string of curses under her breath. She pulls her sweatshirt up over her mouth and stomps the fire out with her sneaker. The fire dies, but the smoke remains. Grace wraps her arms around Alexis's shoulders, pulling her into a hug.

“Shh, you're fine,” Grace whispers.

Brooklyn leans against the pillar and takes a shaky breath. “I needed a cigarette, but I guess this will do.”

Riley's cheeks are flushed red and her hair is more disheveled than I've ever seen it before. She approaches Brooklyn slowly. I dig my teeth into my lower lip, wanting so badly for Brooklyn to kick Riley again, for her to go down long enough for me to steal the key and get out of here. But Riley stops when she reaches Brooklyn's combat boots.

“You look scared, Ri,” Brooklyn says. “I thought demons were supposed to cower before your God, not the other way around.”

I take a deep breath and calmly search the room for something I could use to pick the padlock at the top of the stairs—or even a weapon. I'm past pretending to be on Riley's side, past letting this play out and hoping no one gets hurt. This stops now.

“Alexis, get me the knife,” Riley says, and I freeze. Nothing down here is strong enough to use against the knife. Alexis slides it off the floor. The sound of metal dragging over concrete cuts through the basement.

Riley grabs the knife from Alexis. She runs a perfectly manicured nail along the length of the blade. When she reaches the tip, she presses the flesh of her finger into it, drawing a tiny bead of blood. The blood winds around her finger.

“Good,” she says, taking a step closer to Brooklyn. “It's sharp.”

“Holding a big knife doesn't make you scary,” Brooklyn says. A smile tugs at her lips. “I have to believe you've got the balls to use it.”

“You don't believe I'll use this?” Riley asks. Brooklyn starts to shift her legs, but Riley drops onto them before she can lift them off the ground. She slams the knife handle into the side of Brooklyn's knee, just below the cap.

Brooklyn's mouth forms a perfect O, and her skin turns white. Her face crumples, and she lets out a strangled cry.

Alexis walks behind Brooklyn and yanks her head back, exposing the pale, fragile skin at her neck. Riley lifts the knife and pushes the tip of the blade to Brooklyn's neck. She turns it as she speaks, twisting the sharp point farther into Brooklyn's skin. Brooklyn cringes and tries to pull away, but the pillar behind her head blocks her in.

“Tell me: Are you scared yet?” Riley asks.