“Aim your grievances at me,” he said, clearing his chalky throat. “I’m here to cut you away from this place—somewhere you’re not meant to be. Force my hand, and it will hurt. Go willingly, and I’ll extract you as gently as possible. But the homeowner is not the exorcist in this equation. Truthfully, I wouldn’t call myself that either.” He let his shoulders go heavy and sighed at the tense ceiling. Something, a few things, turned their eyes on him, watching from their hidden spots in the hollow walls and rusted keyholes. “But it is what it is, and I am what I am.”
