The Vatican's private jet landed at a small airfield on the outskirts of California, its engines humming as Susie Salmon disembarked with a backpack slung over her shoulder and Father Malone by her side. It had been a quick flight, barely a couple of hours from Pennsylvania, and though the luxury of the plane had surprised her, her tired eyes and pale face reflected the torment of the past three days. Meanwhile, Cassian drove his Jeep along the roads of California, the sun setting behind the hills. He enjoyed driving, feeling the control of the wheel and the roar of the engine; he had declined Daniel's offer to send a plane, preferring the long road from Pennsylvania. Just as he entered the suburbs, his phone buzzed with a message from Malone: "Susie is here, we're waiting for you at the Crestwood Hotel."
Cassian arrived at the hotel, a modest three-story building with a decent sign, and parked the Jeep in front of the entrance. He climbed the stairs, his bag with the dagger and prayer book hanging from his shoulder, and found Susie and Malone in the room. Susie was sitting on the bed, looking out the window with her hands clenched, while Malone reviewed some papers at a small table. When he saw Cassian enter, Susie jumped up, her eyes bright with relief.
"Cassian!" she said, running toward him. "Thank you for making me come. I couldn't stay there—it was too much."
Cassian placed a hand on her shoulder, his tone warm but firm.
"It's alright, Susie. You did the right thing by calling me, and now you're here. Father Malone, thank you for bringing her. How was the trip?"
Malone smiled, putting the papers away.
"No problems, Cassian. The Vatican took care of everything, and Susie's parents are calmer now that they know who you are. I'll leave—I need to report to the local diocese. Take care of her, okay?"
"Always," Cassian replied, dismissing him with a gesture. "See you, Father."
When Malone left, Cassian closed the door and sat in a chair facing Susie, who returned to the bed, looking at him with a mix of fear and curiosity.
"Susie, before you rest, I want to explain what's happening to you. You're not crazy—you have a gift, but it's heavy, and you need to understand it. Are you ready to listen?"
She nodded, hugging her knees.
"Yes, Cassian. I want to know why I see those things, why they seek me out. Explain everything, please."
Cassian took a deep breath, resting his elbows on his knees as he began.
"What you have is called spiritual vision, Susie. It's rare, and it usually awakens after something intense, like what you experienced in that shelter. Your mind and soul opened to what we call the astral plane—a place between our world and the afterlife where souls that don't cross over get trapped. There are different types of spirits you can see, and not all are the same. First, there are the benign ones: souls who died in peace but stayed behind out of love or sadness. A mother watching over her living child, a man who won't leave his house because he built it with his own hands. They don't harm—they just linger."
Susie frowned, remembering.
"The woman in my room… she didn't seem bad, just stared at me. Was she one of those?"
"Probably," Cassian replied. "But then there are the malevolent ones—those who died with hatred or violence. Those are dangerous, Susie. They can be murderers seeking revenge or victims so broken they want to drag others down with them. Sometimes they latch onto the living to feed on their fear. And then there are the parasites: weak spirits without strength of their own, clinging to people or places like leeches, stealing energy. Possessed individuals are another type—souls trying to take over living bodies, but that's rare and requires a demon behind it."
Susie trembled, her eyes widening.
"The drowned girl… I felt her death, the water in my chest. And the stabbed man—I saw everything. Were they malevolent?"
Cassian nodded, his tone grave.
"They could be, or just lost souls showing their pain. When they see you, they know you can hear them, and some want help while others just want to unload their suffering. What you felt, those visions, is part of your gift—not only do you see them, you connect with them, experiencing fragments of what they went through."
She swallowed, her voice dropping.
"It's horrible, Cassian. I don't want to feel that again. And the demons? You said there were more."
Cassian leaned forward, his gaze hardening.
"The demons are something else entirely, Susie—they're not human souls. They come from hell, and there are types. The lesser ones are like beasts, shadowy figures with claws that lurk and scare: I've seen them tear walls apart and move objects. Then there are the mid-level ones, smarter, able to talk, deceive, and impersonate someone you know. The greater ones, like the one I faced recently—a Praetor Infernalis—are generals of chaos: massive, with burning eyes, capable of possession and destruction wherever they go. Your gift doesn't just see spirits—it brushes against the astral plane where they also prowl, and that's dangerous."
Susie looked at him, processing everything.
"So… why me? And what exactly is the astral plane?"
"The astral plane is like a dark mirror of our world," Cassian explained. "That's where souls who don't find peace go, and demons sometimes use it to cross over. Most people can't see it, but some, like you, have that spark. Others, more trained, can enter it with their minds. I know a woman, Elise Rainier, who does that. She's an expert—she sees what I can't, and tomorrow I'll meet her for a case. You're just starting, Susie—your gift is manifesting, and that's why it torments you."
Susie clasped her hands, her voice trembling.
"I don't want to see it anymore, Cassian. I can't sleep; I feel like they're watching me all the time. Can you help me make it stop, even if just a little?"
Cassian nodded, rising to search in his bag. He pulled out a small vial of salt, a white candle, and a small crucifix.
"I can seal it temporarily, Susie. It won't shut it off, but it will calm it, like closing a window so they can't come in. I need you to stay still and trust me, okay?"
She nodded, sitting upright as Cassian spread a circle of salt around the bed and lit the candle, placing it on the nightstand. He held the crucifix in front of her, reciting in Latin with a deep voice:
"Domine meus, per sanctum tuum sigillum, claude hunc donum, protege hanc animam ab umbris!"
The candle flickered, and Susie felt a gentle warmth in her chest, as if a weight had lifted. Cassian finished, putting the crucifix away, and looked at her seriously.
"It's done, Susie. For now, you won't see or feel anything. The seal will last a few weeks, maybe a month, but it will return if we don't train it. When I can, I'll teach you to control it, to decide what you see and what you don't. How do you feel?"
Susie took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing for the first time in days.
"Better… lighter. Thank you, Cassian. What should I do in the meantime?"
"Rest tonight," he said, sitting down again. "Tomorrow we'll go see Elise—she'll understand your gift better than I do. For now, sleep—you're safe here."
Susie gave a weak smile, lying down as Cassian turned off the light and stepped out into his own room.