Страница 26 из 90
Eve followed him to her bedroom. How odd, she thought, that the rabbi seemed to know the way, as though he’d been here before. He stopped in the doorway of the master bedroom, as her mother had.
“They are very angry,” he said quietly. “I feel them.”
Eve shivered. “Who?”
Squaring his shoulders, the rabbi stepped into the room and stood motionless for several long minutes. He took his time examining the wall behind the beds, then the other walls and the floors. In the bathroom he looked first at the protruding nails. Stooping down, he peered at the markings on the bottom of the shower. He returned to the bedroom, Eve following.
“Show me where you hear the voices,” the rabbi said.
Eve walked to her bed and pointed to an area above the headboard. “There.”
“Do you hear them now?”
Was he testing her? She shook her head. “Can you—do you hear anything?”
“Mrs. Stollman, they have no quarrel with me.”
The rabbi sprinted out of the room and down the hallway as though he were fleeing. Eve, out of shape and out of breath, had difficulty keeping up. Her parents and Joe were seated at the dining room table. They stood as the rabbi and Eve passed through the room and looked at the rabbi expectantly. He motioned to them to remain where they were and continued to the breakfast room, Eve at his heels.
The rabbi sat at the table. Eve did the same.
“Mrs. Stollman, did you close up any windows in your bedroom? Any doors?”
“No. Rabbi Ben-Amichai—”
“The people who lived in this house before you—your husband told me about the tragedy. Two deaths, Hashem yerachem.” God have mercy. “Did they seal a door? A window?”
“I don’t know,” Eve said, stifling her impatience. “Rabbi Ben-Amichai, when we were in my bedroom, you said you felt them. Who is ‘they’?”
“Shedim,”the rabbi said, his voice low. “Some feel that even to say the word is not advisable.”
Demons. Eve flinched.
“They are made of air, fire, and water. The sages tell us that in three ways shedimare like angels. They have wings. They fly from one end of the earth to the other. They hear what will happen in the future.” The rabbi paused. “In three ways they are like humans. They eat and drink like humans, they reproduce like humans, they die like humans. They are here right now.”
Eve felt a prickling up and down her spine. She looked around.
“Trust me, they are here, Mrs. Stollman,” the rabbi said quietly. “The Talmudic scholar Rav Huna stated that every one of us has one thousand shedimon his left hand and ten thousand on his right.”
Eve squirmed.
“Sometimes we can sense them. Have you ever felt crowded even though no one is sitting next to you?” The rabbi leaned toward Eve. “These shedimare what you feel pressing on you every night, breathing on you.” He eyed her with sympathy and a touch of sadness. “You do not believe me.”
“It’s . . .” Eve shook her head.
“Sprinkle ashes on the floor around your bed, Mrs. Stollman. In the morning you will see their footprints, resembling those of a chicken.”
Eve flashed to the markings on the mortar. Not possible, she thought. Still, she felt a frisson of fear and revulsion.
“If you are determined to see them, take finely ground ashes of the afterbirth of a black cat and put them in your eye. You will see them.” The rabbi raised a finger. “I must warn you, this is dangerous. Rav Huna saw shedimand came to harm. Luckily the scholars prayed for him and he recovered.” The rabbi fixed her with his deep brown eyes. “Now it is you who are thinking, ‘This old man is crazy,’ yes?” A smile tugged at his lips.
Eve blushed and looked away. “The markings in the shower could be from a bird.” Or Joe.
The rabbi didn’t respond.
“Suppose you’re right,” Eve said, facing the rabbi. “Why would these shedimbe tormenting me?”
“You or someone else has interfered with them. I believe that there was a window or door on the wall where you hear the voices. You say you did not seal off a window—”
“I didn’t.”
The rabbi nodded. “You do not know if the people who lived here before you sealed off a window or door.”
“They did make changes,” Eve said, remembering what the neighbor had told her. “I don’t know what kind. Why does that matter?”
“ Shedimhave established pathways, Mrs. Stollman. When you interrupt those pathways, they are resentful. They take vengeance. These shedimresided in your house long before you moved in. To them, you are intruders, trespassers.”
Eve wanted to say, That’s ridiculous. But how could she insult this bearded holy man sitting in her home? “Rabbi, why doesn’t my husband hear the voices? Why isn’t he having similar nightmares?”
The rabbi shook his head. “That I ca
“Yes.”
“They have robbed you not only of sleep, but of peace of mind, of trust in your husband. They have convinced you he means you harm.”
Eve felt as though her heart would crack. “Yes.”
“Why do you assume these dreams are true?”
“I have the same dream, over and over. Why would that be unless my unconscious is telling me something, warning me? You said shedimcan tell the future, Rabbi. Do they share that knowledge with humans through dreams?”
The rabbi nodded. “They do.”
Well then,Eve thought.
“But shedimlove to confound humans, to mix truth with lies,” the rabbi said. “Remember, they are not here to protect you. Quite the opposite. At the very least, find the location of the window or door that was sealed off. Make a small hole through the wall so that the shedimcan resume their movement unobstructed.”
“And that will stop the voices? The nightmares?”
The rabbi sighed. “This is a house of misery and bad fortune, Mrs. Stollman. Two people have died u
“ SHEDIM? ASHES OFblack cats?” Joe said after the rabbi had blessed Eve and Joe and left with her parents. “Sounds like Macbeth, or Halloween. I don’t really believe in this stuff, babe. Do you?”
“Not really,” Eve said, wishing she did.
Her parents had been less skeptical. Her father had looked somber and her mother had said, “Oh my God,” several times and shuddered.
Watching Joe tap his fingers on the wall above her headboard in expanding circles, Eve thought, wouldn’t it be something if the rabbi were right—frightening, yes, but at the same time wonderful?
“Sounds solid to me, Eve,” Joe said.
“Oh.”
“I can call the broker tomorrow and ask him to find out if the Goodriches sealed off a window. Or I can have Ken open the wall.”
“You can ask our neighbor, Sandy,” Eve said. “She might know.”
“She may not be home,” Joe said. He saw the look on Eve’s face. “Okay. I’ll go check.”
Standing in front of the breakfast nook window, Eve juggled hope and despair for what seemed like an eternity until she saw Joe coming back up the walkway.
“What did Sandy say?” Eve asked, knowing the answer from Joe’s shaken expression.
Shedim.
“They sealed off a bedroom window,” Joe said, his voice subdued and so quiet she had to lean in to hear him. “Sandy wanted to know why I was asking. I said we were wondering, because the wall sounded hollow.”
“Good thinking,” Eve said. They were around her, around Joe, everywhere. Thousands, the rabbi had said.
Joe pulled Eve into his arms. “I am so, so sorry I doubted you, babe. I feel terrible that I accused you of sleepwalking and doing all that stuff.”
“You couldn’t know.”
He pulled away and stared at her. “This is surreal, isn’t it? Scary as hell.”
“It is.” Eve’s heart soared.