This must have been what it was like when Red Riding Hood first met the big bad wolf. What she felt must have been as much intrigue as terror.
“What do you want?” I ask.
He folds his leg across his knee. “Well, Nathan told me the most interesting story, and I’m wondering if it’s true.”
There’s no use denying it. “Nathan wasn’t supposed to tell anyone!” I say loudly, hoping Nathan hears me.
“While for the past month you’ve left Nathan hanging, I have been attempting to give him answers. It’s natural that he should confide in me when he is told such a thing.”
Poole has an angle. That much is clear. I just don’t know what it is yet.
“I am not the devil,” I say. “I am not a demon. I am not any of the things you want me to be. I am just a person. A person who borrows other people’s lives for a day.”
“But can’t you see the devil at work?”
I shake my head. “No. There was no devil inside of Nathan. There is no devil inside of this girl. There is only me.”
“You see,” Poole says, “that’s where you’re wrong. Yes, you are inside of these bodies. But what’s inside of you, my friend? Why do you think you are the way you are? Don’t you feel it could be the devil’s work?”
I speak calmly. “What I do is not the devil’s work.”
At this, Poole actually laughs.
“Relax, Andrew. Relax. You and I are on the same side.”
I stand up. “Good. Then let me go.”
I make a move to leave, but as I anticipated, he blocks me. He pushes Ainsley back to the sofa.
“Not so fast,” he says. “I’m not finished.”
“On the same side, I see.”
The grin disappears. And for a moment, I see something in his eyes. I’m not sure what it is, but it paralyzes me.
“I know you so much better than you give me credit for,” Poole says. “Do you think this is an accident? Do you think I’m just some religious zealot here to exorcise your demons away? Did you ever ask yourself why I am cataloging such things, what I’m looking for? The answer is you, Andrew. And others like you.”
He’s fishing. He has to be.
“There are no others like me,” I tell him.
His eyes flash again at me. “Of course there are, Andrew. Just because you’re different, it doesn’t mean you’re unique.”
I don’t know what he’s saying. I don’t want to know what he’s saying.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I do. I look into those eyes, and I know. I know what he’s saying.
“The amazing thing,” he tells me, “is that you still haven’t learned how to make it last longer than a single day. You have no idea the power that you possess.”
I back away from him. “You’re not Reverend Poole,” I say, unable to keep the shaking out of Ainsley’s voice.
“I am today. I was yesterday. Tomorrow—who knows? I have to judge what best suits me. I wasn’t going to miss this.”
He is taking me beyond another window. But right away, I know that I don’t like what’s there.
“There are better ways to live your life,” he continues. “I can show you.”
There’s recognition in his eyes, yes. But there’s also menace. And something else—an entreaty. Almost as if Reverend Poole is still inside somewhere, trying to warn me.
“Get off of me,” I say, standing up.
He seems amused. “I’m not touching you. I am sitting here, having a conversation.”
“Get off of me!” I say louder, and start ripping at my own shirt, sending the buttons flying.
“What—”
“GET OFF OF ME!” I scream, and in that scream is a sob, and in that sob is a cry for help, and just as I’d hoped, Nathan hears it, Nathan has been listening, and the door to the living room is flung open, and there he is, just in time to see me screaming and crying, my shirt ripped open, Poole standing now with murder in his eyes.
I am betting everything on the common decency I saw in Nathan, back when I was inside of him, and even though he is clearly terrified, the common decency does rise, because instead of running away or closing the door or listening to what Poole has to say, Nathan yells, “What are you doing?” and he holds the door open for me as I flee, and he blocks the reverend—or whoever he is inside—from catching me as I run out the front door and into my car. Nathan summons the strength to hold Poole back, buying me those crucial seconds, so by the time Poole is on the lawn, my key is already in the ignition.
“There’s no point in running away!” Poole yells. “You’re only going to want to find me later! All the others have!”
Trembling, I turn up the radio, and drown him out with the sound of the song, and the sound of me driving away.
I don’t want to believe him. I want to think he’s an actor, a charlatan, a fake.
But when I looked closely at him, I saw someone else inside. I recognized him in the same way that Rhiannon recognized me.
Only, I also saw danger there.
I saw someone who does not play by the same set of rules.
As soon as I’m gone, I wish I’d stayed a few minutes longer, let him talk a little bit more. I have more questions than I’ve ever had before, and he might have had the answers.
But if I’d stayed just a few more minutes, I don’t know if I could have left. And I would have been dooming Ainsley to the same struggle as Nathan, if not worse. I don’t know what Poole would have done with her—what we would have done with her, if I’d stayed.
“What do you want?” I ask.
He folds his leg across his knee. “Well, Nathan told me the most interesting story, and I’m wondering if it’s true.”
There’s no use denying it. “Nathan wasn’t supposed to tell anyone!” I say loudly, hoping Nathan hears me.
“While for the past month you’ve left Nathan hanging, I have been attempting to give him answers. It’s natural that he should confide in me when he is told such a thing.”
Poole has an angle. That much is clear. I just don’t know what it is yet.
“I am not the devil,” I say. “I am not a demon. I am not any of the things you want me to be. I am just a person. A person who borrows other people’s lives for a day.”
“But can’t you see the devil at work?”
I shake my head. “No. There was no devil inside of Nathan. There is no devil inside of this girl. There is only me.”
“You see,” Poole says, “that’s where you’re wrong. Yes, you are inside of these bodies. But what’s inside of you, my friend? Why do you think you are the way you are? Don’t you feel it could be the devil’s work?”
I speak calmly. “What I do is not the devil’s work.”
At this, Poole actually laughs.
“Relax, Andrew. Relax. You and I are on the same side.”
I stand up. “Good. Then let me go.”
I make a move to leave, but as I anticipated, he blocks me. He pushes Ainsley back to the sofa.
“Not so fast,” he says. “I’m not finished.”
“On the same side, I see.”
The grin disappears. And for a moment, I see something in his eyes. I’m not sure what it is, but it paralyzes me.
“I know you so much better than you give me credit for,” Poole says. “Do you think this is an accident? Do you think I’m just some religious zealot here to exorcise your demons away? Did you ever ask yourself why I am cataloging such things, what I’m looking for? The answer is you, Andrew. And others like you.”
He’s fishing. He has to be.
“There are no others like me,” I tell him.
His eyes flash again at me. “Of course there are, Andrew. Just because you’re different, it doesn’t mean you’re unique.”
I don’t know what he’s saying. I don’t want to know what he’s saying.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I do. I look into those eyes, and I know. I know what he’s saying.
“The amazing thing,” he tells me, “is that you still haven’t learned how to make it last longer than a single day. You have no idea the power that you possess.”
I back away from him. “You’re not Reverend Poole,” I say, unable to keep the shaking out of Ainsley’s voice.
“I am today. I was yesterday. Tomorrow—who knows? I have to judge what best suits me. I wasn’t going to miss this.”
He is taking me beyond another window. But right away, I know that I don’t like what’s there.
“There are better ways to live your life,” he continues. “I can show you.”
There’s recognition in his eyes, yes. But there’s also menace. And something else—an entreaty. Almost as if Reverend Poole is still inside somewhere, trying to warn me.
“Get off of me,” I say, standing up.
He seems amused. “I’m not touching you. I am sitting here, having a conversation.”
“Get off of me!” I say louder, and start ripping at my own shirt, sending the buttons flying.
“What—”
“GET OFF OF ME!” I scream, and in that scream is a sob, and in that sob is a cry for help, and just as I’d hoped, Nathan hears it, Nathan has been listening, and the door to the living room is flung open, and there he is, just in time to see me screaming and crying, my shirt ripped open, Poole standing now with murder in his eyes.
I am betting everything on the common decency I saw in Nathan, back when I was inside of him, and even though he is clearly terrified, the common decency does rise, because instead of running away or closing the door or listening to what Poole has to say, Nathan yells, “What are you doing?” and he holds the door open for me as I flee, and he blocks the reverend—or whoever he is inside—from catching me as I run out the front door and into my car. Nathan summons the strength to hold Poole back, buying me those crucial seconds, so by the time Poole is on the lawn, my key is already in the ignition.
“There’s no point in running away!” Poole yells. “You’re only going to want to find me later! All the others have!”
Trembling, I turn up the radio, and drown him out with the sound of the song, and the sound of me driving away.
I don’t want to believe him. I want to think he’s an actor, a charlatan, a fake.
But when I looked closely at him, I saw someone else inside. I recognized him in the same way that Rhiannon recognized me.
Only, I also saw danger there.
I saw someone who does not play by the same set of rules.
As soon as I’m gone, I wish I’d stayed a few minutes longer, let him talk a little bit more. I have more questions than I’ve ever had before, and he might have had the answers.
But if I’d stayed just a few more minutes, I don’t know if I could have left. And I would have been dooming Ainsley to the same struggle as Nathan, if not worse. I don’t know what Poole would have done with her—what we would have done with her, if I’d stayed.
