“You and I,” he went on, “are just going to have faith in that thought, and move on.”

I put my hands on my hips. I don’t know if it was the concussion or the fact that my boyfriend had been exorcised, but my bitch quotient was set on high, I think.

“I have faith, Father Dom,” I informed him. “I have plenty of faith. I have faith in myself, and I have faith in you. That’s how I know that we can fix this.”

Father Dominic’s baby blues widened behind the lenses of his bifocals as he lifted a purple ribbony thing to his lips, kissed it, then slipped it around his neck. “Fix this? Fix what? Whatever do you mean, Susannah?”

“You know what I mean,” I said, because he did.

“I—” Father Dominic took a metal thing that looked like an ice-cream scooper out of his bag, along with a jar of what I could only suppose was holy water. “I realize, of course,” he said, “that Maria de Silva Diego will have to be dealt with. That is troubling, but I think you and I are both perfectly well equipped to handle the situation. And the boy, Jack, will have to be seen to and adequately indoctrinated in the appropriate methods of mediation, of which exorcism, as you know, should only be used as a last resort. But—”

“That’s not it,” I said.

Father Dominic looked up from his house blessing preparation. “It isn’t?” he echoed questioningly.

“No,” I repeated. “And don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

He blinked a few times, reminding me of Clive Clemmings.

“I can’t say that I do know, Susannah,” he said. “What are you talking about?”

“Getting him back,” I said.

“Getting who back, Susannah?” Father Dom’s all-night driving marathon was starting to show. He looked tired. He was a handsome guy, for someone in his sixties. I was pretty sure half the nuns and most of the female portion of the Mission’s congregation were in love with him. Not that Father D. would ever notice. The knowledge that he was a middle-aged hottie would only embarrass Father D.

“You know who,” I said.

“Jesse? Getting Jesse back?” Father Dominic stood there, the stole around his neck and the dipper thing in one hand. He looked bewildered. “Susannah, you know as well as I do that once spirits find their way out of this world, we lose all contact with them. They’re gone. They’ve moved on.”

“I know. I didn’t say it was going to be easy. In fact, I can think of only one way to do it, and even then, well, it’ll be risky. But with your help, Father D., it just might work.”

“My help?” Father Dominic looked confused. “My help with what?”

“Father D.,” I said. “I want you to exorcise me.”

chapter

twelve

“For the last time, Susannah,” Father Dominic said. This time he pounded on the steering wheel for emphasis as he said it. “What you are asking is impossible.”

I rolled my eyes. “Hello? What happened to faith? I thought if you had faith, anything was possible.”

Father D. didn’t like having his own words tossed back at him. I could tell by the way he was grimacing at the reflection of the cars behind us in his rearview mirror.

“Then let me say that what you are suggesting has a very unlikely chance of succeeding.” Driving in Carmel-by-the-Sea is no joke, since the houses have no numbers, and the tourists can’t, for the life of them, figure out where they’re going. And the traffic is, of course, ninety-eight percent tourists. Father D. was frustrated enough by our efforts to get where we were going. My announcement back in my bedroom that I wanted him to exorcise me wasn’t helping his mood much, either.

“Not to mention the fact that it is unethical, immoral, and probably quite dangerous,” he concluded, as he waved at a minivan to go ahead and go around us.

“Right,” I said. “But it’s not impossible.”

“You seem to be forgetting something,” FatherD. said. “You are not a ghost, nor are you possessed by one.”

“I know. But I have a spirit, right? I mean, a soul. So why can’t you exorcise it? Then I can go, you know, have a look around, see if I can find him, and if I do, bring him back.” I added as an afterthought, “If he wants to come, of course.”

“Susannah.” Father Dom was really fed up with me, you could totally tell. It had been all right, back at the house, when I’d been crying and everything. But then I’d gotten this terrific idea.

Only Father Dominic didn’t think the idea was so terrific, see. I personally found it brilliant. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. I guess my brain had gotten a little squashed, what with the concussion.

But there was no reason why my plan shouldn’t work. No reason at all.

Except that Father Dominic would have no part of it.

“No,” he said. Which was what he’d been saying ever since I first mentioned it. “What you are suggesting, Susannah, has never been done before. There isn’t the slightest guarantee it will work. Or that, if it does, you will be able to return to your body.”

“That,” I said calmly, “is where the rope comes in.”

“No!” Father Dominic shouted.

He had to slam on the brakes at that very moment because a tour bus came barreling along from out of nowhere, and, there being no traffic lights in downtown Carmel, there were often differences of opinion over whose turn it was at four-way stops. I heard the holy water, still in its jar in his black bag on the backseat, slosh around.

You wouldn’t have thought there’d be any left, what with the dousing Father D. had given our house. That stuff had been seriously flying. I hoped he was right about Maria and Felix being too Catholic to dare to cross the threshold of a newly blessed home. Because if he was wrong, I’d pretty much made a big ass out of myself in front of Dopey for no reason. Dopey had been all, “Whatcha doing that for, Father D.?” when Father Dominic got to his room with the aspergillum, which turned out to be what the dippy thing was called.

“Because your sister asked me to,” Father Dom replied as he flicked holy water all over Dopey’s weight bench—probably the only time that thing had ever come close to being cleaned.