Dead Asleep by Jamie Freveletti Page B

shocked look.
    â€œWho?” he said.
    â€œLayton!” Warner’s body shook with fear. Her panic seemed to fill the space, and Emma felt her own skin crawl, both at the image of the shaking Warner and the unearthly wailing in the house.
    â€œWhere’s his room?” she asked.
    â€œDown the hall, opposite Martin’s.” Carrow moved Warner to the side. She clung to him and he kept his arm around her neck as he started toward the open door and where the wailing seemed to be emanating. Emma stepped in behind them and saw a man, fully clothed, on all fours on the bed. His muscles jerked and he catapulted up three feet before landing again. His face held a terrified expression, his mouth was open, and he wailed in a long, wavering, panicked warble. His body jerked again and up he went into the air, landing on the bed.
    Rory, the medium, stood on one side of the mattress, swaying and intoning a singsong chant. She wore a tee shirt and jeans and her feet were bare. Around her neck was a large wooden crucifix on a leather string. The song was a mixture of strange words sung in a minor key, almost like a Gregorian chant. Layton kept jumping, not noticing them though they walked into the room and stood at the foot of the bed.
    â€œWhat the hell is going on here?” Carrow said. His voice was harsh. Rory stopped singing. Layton gave another piercing wail and his limbs jerked.
    â€œHe’s possessed by evil spirits,” Rory said. “Can’t you see? I’m chanting to make them leave his body and return to the depths, where they belong.”
    â€œDid you call the doctor?” Carrow asked.
    â€œWhy would I? No doctor can help him,” Rory replied.
    â€œI did,” Warner said. “Ten minutes ago.”
    The scene would have been unbelievable to Emma if it wasn’t for the obvious terror on Layton Nalen’s face. His muscles jerked again, as if he had no control over his limbs, the bedsprings creaking when he landed. His breath came in gasps and sweat glowed on his face. Emma took a step forward.
    â€œDon’t get near him!” Rory said. “Can’t you see that he is inhabited by something evil? You both should put on a cross, immediately! You are vulnerable to demonic possession if you don’t.”
    Emma couldn’t help it; she snorted, both in anger and disbelief. Anger that Rory would simply stand and sing while Nalen fought his spasming body, and disbelief that she hadn’t called an ambulance. Rory’s face flushed red.
    â€œThis is nothing to laugh at. Can’t you see he’s fighting the demon inside?”
    Nalen made a terrified, groaning sound as he jerked and jumped into the air, rising and falling on all fours again.
    â€œI can see he’s in distress,” Emma said, “but I don’t see a demon and I don’t think you can assume anything. You should have called the doctor.”
    â€œYou’re wrong, he is possessed,” Rory said. “Layton was in here calling out evil.” She waved a hand in the direction of the bathroom. For the first time, Emma looked in that direction. Through the door she saw a red pentagram painted on the bathroom’s white tile floor. It appeared to have been drawn in a streaky, red substance that, if it wasn’t blood, certainly looked like it. At each point on the pentacle there was a black, votive candle. The flames glowed.
    â€œHe and the rest of the band play at devil worship,” Rory said. She leaned in closer to Emma. “But evil is nothing to play with. He got what he conjured. Now we have to get it out of him somehow.”
    Emma didn’t respond. She agreed that evil wasn’t anything to play with, but whatever was in Nalen, she doubted it was a demon. She suspected he was experiencing a side effect from the cocktail of the many drugs Carrow had said the man took on a regular basis. She moved closer to the bed.
    â€œMr. Nalen, can you hear