Ms. Parker turned to her with a look of horror on her face. "I doubt that very much. Mr. Undermeyer suffers from one of the most acute cases of paranoid schizophrenia and multiple personality disorders I've ever seen."

Bridget smiled to herself. Not for long.

Milton Undermeyer sat at a table in the recreation area. He was still in his straitjacket, and he stared with unseeing eyes at a small television mounted on the wall. She wondered how many hours a day he was confined in that thing. Maybe this would be the last time.

Ms. Parker stood at Undermeyer's shoulder and addressed him as she would a small child. "Mr. Undermeyer? There is someone here to see you."

His eyes never left the television, and he gave no indication that he'd heard a word she said.

"Mr. Undermeyer?"

"It's okay," Bridget said. As soon as she spoke, she saw Undermeyer's eyes flicker in her direction. "I'll take it from here."

Ms. Parker looked from Bridget to Milton Undermeyer and back, then shrugged and clacked her way back to the nurses' station. Bridget watched her go. What was about to happen would throw that woman's years of study and research right out the window. Oops.

Bridget pulled a chair close to him and sat down. "Mr. Undermeyer, do you know who I am?"

It took a moment for his eyes to focus on her face. He sucked in a quick breath and his eyes unclouded.

"That's right. I'm Dr. Liu's daughter. I'm a Watcher."

Tears welled up in Undermeyer's gray eyes, spilling down his ashen cheeks. "You're-you're here to release us?"

Bridget smiled. "A deal is a deal. You delivered your message."

"Amaymon?"

"Defeated."

Undermeyer closed his watery eyes and sighed. "Yes. It is now time."

Bridget leaned forward and placed a hand on either side of his sunken face. "Your service to the Watchers is complete. Your penance is done."

Bridget paused. She could feel the demons inside, their joy and their longing. Instead of banishing malevolent demons back to Hell, this time she was releasing something good, something repentant. It felt nice.

"I release you."

A shudder rippled through Undermeyer's body; he went rigid, then he crumpled. Bridget caught him as he slumped forward, pushing his shoulders back against the chair. Two orderlies came running across the room.

"It's okay." She could sense it in his touch. The demons had left, back to wherever they'd come from or perhaps someplace better. Bridget had no idea; she only knew that the body and mind of Milton Undermeyer were now free.

The orderlies kept their distance, confused by what was happening. As Bridget held him upright, Undermeyer's lids flitted open. His eyes darted around the room-to the orderlies, to the television, to the straitjacket that held him, taking in his surroundings for the first time. Finally they landed on Bridget.

"You."

She smiled. "Yes."

"They're gone?"

"Yes."

Undermeyer's chest heaved. "I didn't kill your father."

"I know. I know it was Monsignor Renault. You'll be getting out of here soon, I promise."

"How can I ever thank you?" His voice sounded so old, so frail. Bridget caught the orderlies exchanging glances.

Bridget winked. "Just don't tell anyone."

Matt was leaning against the truck, waiting for her. He had taken his arm out of the sling and was slowly flexing and bending it in front of him. When he saw Bridget coming down the stairs, he straightened up.

"Well?" he asked.

Bridget nodded. "Done."

He reached his good hand toward her. "What did it feel like?"

"It felt . . ." She laced her fingers through his, and a feeling of comfort and love and hominess enveloped her. "It felt right. Like this."

"It does feel right." Matt pulled her close. "I'm glad you don't hate me anymore."

"Me too."

He gazed down at her, and the longish strands of his hair hung in front of his eyes. She reached up and brushed them off his forehead, then stood on her tiptoes and kissed him playfully on the lips. The tingling began immediately, but Bridget didn't pull away. Instead she relished the sensation for a moment, letting her tongue graze Matt's upper lip. Then she pushed the feeling away, relegating it to the other part of her, the Watcher part. Separate.

"I'm still going to keep an eye on you," Matt said. "You're trouble."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"From now on, consider me your guardian angel."

Bridget snorted. More like the other way around.

Matt pulled his head back. "What's so funny?"

Bridget ignored him. "So what duties go along with being a guardian angel?" she asked.

"Well, for starters," he said, wrapping his arm around her waist, "I'm never leaving your side."

"That'll make gym class a little awkward." Bridget smirked.

But Matt's face was serious. There wasn't even a hint of levity in his eyes as he held her body firmly against his. "Bridget, I mean it. I want to be there for you. I want to be with you."

"You are."

"I mean forever." He paused and Bridget's stomach got all fluttery. "I love you, Bridget Liu."

He loved her. She'd known it somehow, known it since before her confrontation with Amaymon, before he helped her unravel the mystery of her dad's death, before they shared that first kiss. But the warmth spreading throughout her body told her something even more important.

"I love you too," she said. She didn't care if she was going soft. She loved Matt Quinn.

He leaned down and kissed her. Bridget closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of his soft lips against her own. It was a sensation she wanted to feel every day.

Matt was the first to break the kiss. He brought his hand to her cheek and caressed it. "Now what do you say we get the hell out of here? This place gives me the creeps."

"Agreed." Bridget smiled and opened the passenger door. "Besides, we've got to get home. Sunday night. Shepherd's pie."

"I wouldn't miss it."

Bridget took one last look at the Sonoma State Hospital as Matt circled out of the parking lot. She had no idea what the future would bring them, and even though she felt a slight pang of guilt for bringing Matt into her world of angels and demons, of Watchers and Emim, she couldn't for one moment picture going forward without him.

Good or evil, they'd face it. Together.

Acknowledgments.

To Ginger Clark, my fearless, amazing, ballsy agent. She's been a friend and ally, and she's never given up on me. I count myself lucky to be one of her clients.

To Kristin Daly Rens, my wonderful editor, who understood this novel from the get-go, whose notes and vision totally resonated with me, and who loves Bridget as much as I do. Again, I'm a lucky girl.

To the entire Balzer + Bray and HarperCollins team who have been so supportive throughout this process: Alessandra Balzer and Donna Bray, Sara Sargent, designers Sarah Hoy and Amy Ryan, copyeditors Kathryn Silsand and Laaren Brown, Emilie Polster and Megan Sugrue in marketing, and Allison Verost in publicity.

To the fabulous Holly Frederick and Dave Barbor at Curtis Brown, Ltd., who have worked tirelessly on behalf of this novel.

To my expansive support network of Inkies, Hopefuls, Purgies, Apocalypsies, and Bookanistas, especially Cindy Pon, Sarah Eve Kelly, Chandler Craig, Lisa and Laura Roecker, Deborah Gray, Wendy Cebula, Emily Kokie, Amy Dachtler, Yadira Taylor, Jake Gilchrist, Rachanee Srisavasdi, Tara Campomenosi, and Jessica Morgan. And of course, my comrades-in-arms, YARebels Jen Hayley, Leah Clifford, Scott Tracey, Victoria Schwab, Hannah Moskowitz, and Karsten Knight.

To a group of readers whose collected awesomeness surpassed all expectations-Jen Hayley (again), Courtney Allison Moulton, Amy Bai, Debra Driza, Monica Bustamante Wagner, Jennifer Donahue, Sue Laybourn, ChristaCarol Jones, Nadine Nettmann, Juliette Dominguez, Rebecca Burrell, L. K. Herndon, Tracey Martin, Bryn Greenwood, Lisa Brackmann, Laurel Hoctor Jones, Shveta Thakrar, Karen Latham, P. J. Hoover, Kiki Hamilton, Keely Parrack, Holly West, Jill Myles, Rachel Hunter, Kitty Chiu, and Mark Uhlemann, who also gets some credit for the title.

To the amazing Pixie Spindel of Pixie Vision Productions, who made magic happen with that author photo.

To my "other" family at Cirque Berzerk, who have been endlessly enthusiastic about my "other" artistic endeavor. Rock on.

To Carrie Policella, boss and friend, who always turned a blind eye when I was writing on the clock.

To Roy Firestone, my brother from another mother, without whom I would surely be completely insane. He's my rock, my sounding board, my dog sitter, my happy hour partner, my reality check, my cheerleader, and clearly the best friend a girl ever had.

To Peggy McNeil, my mom, who raised me to believe that I could do and be anything I wanted. I'm not sure she was thinking "opera singer

circus performerwriter" at the time, but it all worked out.

Much love.

About the Author.

Gretchen McNeil is a former coloratura soprano, is the voice of Mary on G4's Code Monkeys, and currently sings with the L.A.-based circus troupe Cirque Berzerk. She is a founding member of vlog group the YARebels-where she can be seen as "Monday"-and is an active member of the Enchanted Inkpot, a group blog of YA and middle-grade fantasy writers. POSSESS is her first novel. You can visit Gretchen online at www.gretchenmcneil.com.

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Credits

Front cover: Portrait: 2011 by Selina Kolokytha; Trees: 2011 by natures-desktop Jacket design by Sarah Hoy

Copyright

Copyright 2011 by Gretchen McNeil All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data McNeil, Gretchen.