She had obviously noticed, and he assumed that she was now attempting to cross that breach, to break down that wall. He wanted to be able to meet her halfway, to be as close to her as he had been before, but he felt himself stiffen as she approached. Part of him wanted her out of his room, wanted to guard the secrecy he’d been cultivating.
Why? he wondered again.
Once more he did not know.
“I’m fine,” he said rather formally, in answer to her question.
She walked over, smiling, intending to sit down next to him, but she stopped just before reaching the bed, focusing on something to the left of him, on the floor. Frowning, she reached down, picked up Sasha’s panties from the space beneath the box springs where he’d shoved them.
She looked at him evenly, and he wanted to protest that he didn’t know what they were, didn’t know how they’d gotten here, but he found himself turning away under her strong gaze, and though he opened his mouth to speak, no words came out.
She slipped the panties in the pocket of her housecoat and sat down next to him.
“Is not your fault,” Babunya said softly, putting an arm around his shoulder. “You good boy. I know that. You always good boy. You were born with happy face. The first time I saw you, in the hospital, I saw you had happy face. Sasha and Teo, they don’t have happy face like you. I know this not your fault.”
He was crying, though he didn’t want to and could not remember the last time he had done so, and he hugged Babunya, filled with guilt and a deep, humiliating shame. At the same time, he felt liberated, as if he’d been keeping a secret for a long, long time that he had finally been allowed to tell. He thought of the banya, thought of the spot above the highway where they’d been arrested. He wiped his eyes. “What’s happening?” he asked.
“Evil,” she said, and the word, spoken so plainly and straightforwardly, made the hair on his arms bristle.
He licked his lips. “The banya?” he whispered.
She sighed. “Evil always come back. The Devil work in many ways. Even good people influenced by evil. That what happen to you. That is why you throw rocks at cars and…” She glanced down at her housecoat pocket, looked quickly away.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said. “I don’t even know why I did it.”
“I know.” She squeezed his shoulder, looking at nothing, thinking to herself. “I know,” she repeated absently.
“I thought you said we had guardian angels, that they would protect us.”
She looked at him, nodded solemnly. “That true. We all have them. But they only protect from earthly thing, not protect from evil spirit.”
That word again: evil.
“Our house is haunted, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps.”
“People were murdered here before, you know. My friend Scott said that the dad murdered his whole family. Maybe it’s their ghosts that are…” He trailed off. That are what? He did not know how to complete the sentence. Everything that scared him, everything that had happened, was vague, unspecific, feelings and impressions more than concrete events.
Except for the stuff occurring around town. The murders. The deaths. The cactus baby. The animal attack on Teo’s school.
Those things couldn’t have been caused by something in their house, could they?
“Is not ghosts from house,” Babunya said. “Not just ghosts,” she amended. “There are many spirits in town. We pray at church and try to get rid of them, but too many here.” Her voice lowered. “Devil send them.”
Goose bumps pimpled his skin.
Babunya stared at the wall, at nothing, and when she spoke again it sounded almost as though she was talking to herself rather than to him. “Spirits here but they are… uninvited.” Her voice sounded uncertain, as if that was something she did not entirely believe.
Adam felt cold. Uninvited. He’d heard that before, and he looked at her. He took a deep breath. “The Indians think the same thing. My friend Dan says that they call them uninvited guests. They have some Indian word for it.”
“Uninvited guests.” She repeated the words as if trying them out. “Uninvited guests.” She nodded slowly. “Dan’s people very wise.”
“Maybe we should talk to them. Maybe they know what to do.”
“We know too. Molokans know better.”
“But—”
“Evil happen here long time ago and evil attracted here now.”
“That’s what he said! He said it was the mine—”
“Is not mine.” She closed her eyes, breathed deeply. “Sometimes evil want to come back but cannot because everything protected. But sometimes it find a way. A crack to sneak through.” She was silent for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. “This time I make that crack.”
She looked at the wall again, but Adam knew she was seeing something else. He was frightened, had no idea what she was talking about, had a million questions, but he sensed that this was a time to keep quiet, and so he said nothing. She would explain, he knew, in her own time.
She sighed. “It because of who I forget to invite that other… spirits invite themselves.”
Adam thought of Rumpelstiltskin.
“Jedushka Di Muvedushka?”
She nodded. “Jedushka Di Muvedushka. I don’t realize it until now. A month ago, I went with church to see prophet. Molokan prophet. Very wise man. Holy man. He lives in cave in desert. We ask him what’s wrong and he said town in danger. He told me it is my fault.” She pointed to her head. “Told me here, not with words. I don’t want to believe him, but I think it might be true. I think about Jedushka Di Muvedushka, but I still don’t see how it is possible. Now God let me see. We move to house where evil things happen, have no protection, no Jedushka Di Muvedushka, and that allow evil to grow, get stronger. Once stronger, it spreads. Others come.”
“Uninvited guests.”
“Yes,” she said, nodding.
Jedushka Di Muvedushka.
The idea of a little invisible man, a supernatural being living with them in their house, had frightened him at first, and though he had not exactly believed it, he had been glad they’d forgotten to invite the creature to come with them from California. He didn’t like the thought of some… spirit watching them, monitoring them, keeping tabs on them in the privacy of their own house. If there was such a thing, he was glad they’d left it behind.
Now, though, he had changed his tune. The idea of an Owner of the House, an invisible being watching over them and watching out for them, no longer seemed so far-fetched. It was the same basic premise as a guardian angel. So maybe there was something to it. All legends were supposed to start with a grain of truth. And other cultures had stories of little men as well. Like the leprechauns in Ireland, the trolls and elves in other countries’ fairy tales. Perhaps there was some basis in fact to this. Perhaps there were little people with magical powers and different countries called them different things.
And at this point, the thought of a little guy staying awake at night while they were asleep, battling evil, unseen enemies, was a comforting one.
But had everything in town, all of the deaths and hauntings and craziness, started because his family had forgotten to invite Jedushka Di Muvedushka to come with them from California and move into their new house? Had everything begun at this home? It was hard to believe… but it was not impossible. Scott had told him that the entire town was haunted, and perhaps it was, but everything had apparently remained dormant until they’d arrived, a fact that quite a few people had noticed.