et separatur a plasmate tuo, ut num quam laedatur amorsu antiqui serpentes! her body convulses, pulls against the bandages tying her hands and feet to the bed frame. notice her fingernails. drained of color. almost black. her mother is off to one side, completely hysterical. on the other side is a crowd of bewildered tenants, all crammed into the hallway outside the opened door.
thank god you're here.  john shoots him a disgusted look. hennessey gives him a wide berth. john walks past the panic-stricken mother without a glance, sets his cigarette on the nightstand, the glowing tip drooped over the edge. he puts a gloved hand to the child's face and it burns on contact. his demeanor instantly changes as he leans right next to the ear of the little girl and whispers --
john?!
now about the fee.  john slips from view into the kitchenette, hides the fact that he has to lean against the door to keep his balance. he catches his breath, looks up and is staring right at a child's crayon drawing magneted to the fridge. a drawing of a figure poking another in the side with a long stick. this image is repeated over and over. john tugs it off the fridge, tucks it away.
thank you. yes.  gracias.
i know, i know, but i didn't think she was really possessed, not like that.
-- don't be mad, john, don't be -- john rummages through his coat pockets --
on the left side. john keeps searching.
vest pocket. john rips his smokes from the left vest pocket --
sorry, sorry. here, you can have half. hennessey starts to divvy the cash but john snatches the hat.
it keeps them out, so i can sleep. please, john, i need to sleep. john stares at his pathetic friend, sighs, finally slips a few bills from the wad and hands them over. hennessey is bubbling with appreciation, starts to follow. john simply holds up a hand. hennessey stops, watches john walk out. alone.
hey, john.
i'm real sorry about this morning, john, real sorry. please don't hate me for draggin' you into that. please don't.  john can finally breathe.
that's good to hear. real good.
you didn't call?
so you want me to go away and come back?
really? what kind of assignment?
oh god, you want me to surf the ether. he instinctively touches an amulet around his neck. four intersecting crosses.
i.  i don't have the sight anymore.
okay, okay.  for you, john. like old times. right. hennessey takes one last sip from his drink, hands the bottle over. john downs the rest. nods.
be there, john.  please.  something shivers up hennessey's leg and into his body. eyes glaze over and hennessey settles on a restaurant.