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didn’t want anyone in there who couldn’t handle the strange and often frightening events to follow. Sharon Hardgrove, the matriarch of the family, a young woman in her own right, clasped onto her husband Greg. The father and breadwinner of the family, Greg Hardgrove kept up a firm and brave face for his brood, which also included a boy, Danny.
    “Are we gonna do this thing?” the redheaded fifteen-year-old showed off his metal mouth and held up his video recorder. “I wanna put it on YouTube.”
    “Danny!” his mother wiped her eyes, yelling at her son without looking at him. Obviously she was used to scolding him. “Stop it! Your sister…she’s—” and she fell onto her husband’s shoulder, buried in his sweater, sobbing.
    “I’m just gonna get the good stuff,” the boy held the camera to eye level. “You know, the green puke and the head spinning. That shit’ll go viral, dude!”
    “Danny!” Greg glared at his son, who shrugged and blinked.
    “What, Dad? We can make a killing on this. You know, clear evidence of the paranormal and all that.”
    “I’d prefer you not record today’s proceedings,” said the priest emphatically. Then he softened a bit and chuckled. “The church doesn’t exactly want this kind of thing advertised. You understand.”
    The moans and howls from the bed became unavoidable. Melissa, or, more accurately, the spirit inside of her, required to be heard.
    “Where is he! I demand to know!”
    On the nightstand, Melissa’s frilly lamp flickered on and off. So did the lights in the vanity. Danny, impetuous as he was devious, shrugged again and lowered the recorder to his hip, pretending to oblige with the Father’s wishes but instead recording the entire thing.
    Father Thomas initiated his rites with the help of his trusted assistant, Monty. Together they recited the ancient Litany of Saints, calling upon each of them for wisdom and guidance in casting off this unclean spirit while sprinkling holy water. Melissa Hardgrove wailed and reeled, shaking the bedframe and rattling the windows. The woman in possession of the girl insisted on finding ‘ him ,’ calling for ‘ him ’ and saying if ‘ he ’ was here they would never be able to do the things to her they were doing now.
    “And just who is he ?” the priest dashed a sprinkle of holy water directly on the girl’s face. She screamed and writhed in agony as her mother writhed in her father’s arms. “Is he the supreme unhallowed being?” More holy water and more darkly resonant cries. “Is he the lord of darkness and the purveyor of perdition?” still more holy water and more agonized wails.
    Melissa’s mother twisted and howled. She was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, unable to watch her eldest daughter’s torment. Then, like a mother’s radar, she heard her youngest, a baby of only eighteen months. Little Brittney. She had put the child down for a nap only a few minutes earlier, and now Sharon heard her crying from the nursery.
    “Sharon! Where are you going!” Greg demanded as his wife hurried out the door. He was stunned she could leave at a time like this.
    “It’s Brittney!”
     
     
    *****
     
     
    Sharon left the exorcism with one thing on her mind—her newborn baby. She wrestled with feelings of confusion and fear, but most of all acute powerlessness. Her first born was going through the unthinkable. Possession. It sent a profound and calamitous upsurge of terror through her bones because she couldn’t do a thing about it. However, if she couldn’t help her poor Melissa, at least she could help baby Brittney.
    The first thing she noticed in the nursery was the eerie stillness. Her baby just lay there in her bassinet. Little Brittney. So serene and sweet. Sleeping soundly and quietly.
    Where did the crying come from? Am I losing my mind?
    To be certain, Sharon checked the bassinet more closely. She didn’t dare touch the little one or even make a sound. Didn’t want to wake her little