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after all—but he knew that putting “demon” or “flesh spirit” in a report would go poorly for everyone.
    We went with the standard: gangs.
    And with that, I headed home. With luck and several cups of coffee, I’d figure out how to put everything back together.

    CHAPTER 6: Why Can’t Lesbianism Be Contagious?

    Research failed.
    I sat in front of my easel and stared out through my balcony window, and back at the easel. I had all the lights off, except for the kitchen light on the other side of the house. Its soft glow did not compete with the full moon outside. I couldn’t see, but could hear, the surf slamming against the rocks below and I could taste the salt in the air.
    The quiet helped regenerate my worn defences. Or, as Mrs. Saunders would say, “calmed me nerves.” I smiled, letting positive memories engulf me and heal my damaged spirit. I’d survived seeing Jeremy. I discovered who was putting the pamphlets in my door and could now put aside some of my suspicions. I could relax a little more.
    I so needed to move to somewhere with a population of zero.
    Twinges of stress stabbed at me. Moving would kill Mrs. Saunders. And, I would not recover my own bruised mental defences if I did not settle things here first. So, to help calm the heart-pounding panic of failure in my chest, I reviewed my evening’s actions.
    First, I’d called Mom, who’d been living in Ontario since Dad retired. She gave me a few suggestions, but admitted she didn’t know how I could put these spirits back into their resting places. Mom was even surprised that I’d managed to banish them at all; she said old native spirits were generally too strong for someone like me.
    Thanks Mom. Always can count on you.
    Mom’s passive aggressiveness aside, her advice along with David’s rant had given me an idea. I spent a good portion of the evening searching the Bible for details about demon possession. Though possession was not the same as manifested spirits, the causes and treatment, if you will, overlapped more often than not. I didn’t find anything appropriate to the situation. Crunching gravel caught my attention. It was nearly midnight. I put my notepad down and looked out the window. Jeremy was there, getting out of his car.
    I walked to the kitchen and opened the door. He gave me a sheepish smile and a brown Tim Horton’s cup. I accepted the caffeinated liquid of the gods.
    “I couldn’t sleep and I saw you posting on Facebook earlier, so . . .” He shrugged.
    “I was just taking a break. Listening to my sister talk about her daughter’s pooping habits calms me down,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Besides, I wasn’t on there all night.”
    “I didn’t say you were.” He gave me his signature wide grin. Eternal ancestors, that smile made my stupid heart pound faster. “I just figured you could use some coffee. Tim’s is still open late for the tail end of the tourist season.”
    I motioned for him to come in. “You drove twenty minutes to bring me a coffee?” I said, arching an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be at your girlfriend’s house?” It came out snarkier than I had meant. I stammered to add, “I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble hanging out here.”
    He slipped his sneakers off. “Donna’s in Corner Brook. Her grandmother’s in the hospital, so she’ll be there for a few days.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said and I meant it. As much as I wanted to hate Donna, she was just too nice. Like, romance novel nice. Perfect, even. And so perfectly nice that I couldn’t even hate her out of principle.
    I sighed.
    Jeremy shrugged and walked into the kitchen. After pulling out a chair, he sat down. “I talked to Donna before I came over. She doesn’t mind. Besides, I haven’t really seen you in a month.” He motioned vaguely in the air. “With all the spooky stuff going on, I thought I could lend a hand.”
    “Thanks, I could use it.” I said and pulled out of a plastic bag some