I was sure Sarah heard the Harley as I rode up and backed it into a parking spot on the street in front of her house. The Softail’s rumble was impossible to miss. If her minivan sitting in the driveway wasn’t enough evidence that she was home, the slight movement of the living room curtains gave her away.

The South Minneapolis home, shaded by a large, fully turned maple in a vibrant shade of red, sat on a tree-lined street filled with well-cared-for homes. An Under Contract banner covered a For Sale sign on the lawn of a home two doors down. Pumpkins and wreaths made of fall colors decorated front stoops. Sarah’s 1950s era, two-story stucco home with its curving sidewalk and solid oak door had always felt inviting and homey to me. Today, the façade felt cold and unwelcoming.

Always concerned with security, I knew when I rang the doorbell, Sarah would see me through the video camera peephole. The chimes sounded loud even through the door, but they didn’t spark any movement. After several seconds, I followed up with a hard knock.

“Come on, Sarah. Aren’t you going to answer the door?”

The intercom squawked. “Are you alone?”

I wrinkled my brow at the camera. “Of course, I’m alone. Aren’t you seeing the video feed?”

“Yes, I can see you.”

‘Well, do you see anyone with me?”

Several seconds ticked by and I still didn’t hear any movement in the house. I knocked again, raising my voice to be heard through the thick door. “Sarah, you invited me here, remember?”

After several more seconds, the bolt lock on the door clinked, and I heard her counting. “One, two, three,” before she threw the door wide and hid behind it.

I recoiled as drops of water splashed in my face. I stood there in shock, wiping the moisture away. “Sarah, what the hell?”

I opened my eyes to see a priest, Father Okeena in formal black, floor-length vestments, the white square of his clergy collar in stark contrast to his very dark skin. The small man held a bible in one hand and a golden, holy water sprinkler in the other. A small bucket dangled from one of his fingers on the hand holding the bible. He mumbled incantations while vigorously dipping and splashing me with the water.

“Oh for Pete’s sake, stop that,” I said as the water assault continued. “Sarah, what the hell is going on?”

The priest’s words, in a staccato Nigerian accent, flowed continually as he read from the text, his voice becoming more forceful as if he needed increased volume for his mumbo jumbo to work on me.

Sarah moved from behind the door and ducked behind the priest, her eyes wide and staring as if waiting for the magic to work.

I stood in the doorway with my hands on my hips, annoyed beyond measure, as I allowed the priest to continue to splash me. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to writhe in pain, speak in tongues and puke up pea soup?”

“It’s not working,” Sarah said. “Father Okeena, it’s not working.”

“That’s because I’m not possessed, Sarah. And if he doesn’t stop splashing me, I’m going to knock him clear to Sunday.”

What is this about? Inanna asked.

He thinks a demon is possessing me and that he needs to force it out of my body.

With this water ritual? Ridiculous. Why would this annoying splash of water break the power of a demon bond?

Her confusion almost made me laugh. But then I thought, perhaps demon possession was a bit like Inanna’s bond with me.

Oh, it isn’t anything like that! She added, sounding shocked. Whatever this possession is, it’s not a bond like ours.

 No, you’re absolutely right. It isn’t anything like that. Demon possession is evil.

I may be willful and petulant at times, but I’m not …

Evil. No, you are definitely not that.

If it wasn’t like my bond with Inanna, perhaps possession was what was happening to Quincy from Dizzy’s demon-like influence. I brushed those thoughts aside as I focused on the priest, my hands on my hips, my face becoming drenched, the front of my shirt and my leather riding jacket covered in sprinkles of water.

“This is ridiculous,” I said, pushing past the priest and walking into my sister’s house.

“But you can’t come in!” Sarah said, “I didn’t invite you.”

“Oh for the love of the gods, now you think I’m a vampire? You watch too much TV.”

“The power of Christ compels you,” the priest said, a note of surrender in his voice, “The power of Christ compels you.”

“One more splash of that stuff in my face and I’ll compel you right out that door!”

He stopped and blinked at me. “It appears demon possession is not the case here.”

“Good call, Father Okeena,” I said. “Now, can you leave me alone to speak to my sister?”