Battle of the Soul

by Carl Alves

  Battle of the Soul

  Carl Alves

  End of Days Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the publisher.

  Cover art by Kealan Patrick Burke

  Copyright © 2017 Carl Alves

  ISBN: 9781549927034

  DEDICATION

  I would like to dedicate Battle of the Soul to my wife, Michelle, who has been with me on this journey from the beginning, and my two fantastic sons, Max and Alex, who provide me with all of the inspiration I need.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

  I would like to thank the great horror writing community at large. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting some of the nicest, most generous people, always willing to give of their time and advice. A special thanks to Kealan Patrick Burke for his awesome cover. Tim Marquitz, who is as good of a person as he is a writer. Beyond all, I would like to thank my two sons, Alex and Max, who can always put a smile on my face, and my wife, Michelle, for putting up with me since we were both in high school together. I couldn’t imagine life without them.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Chapter VI

  Chapter VII

  Chapter VIII

  Chapter IX

  Chapter X

  Chapter XI

  Chapter XII

  Chapter XIII

  Chapter XIV

  Chapter XV

  Chapter XVI

  Chapter XVII

  Chapter XVIII

  Chapter XVIX

  Chapter XX

  Chapter XXI

  Chapter XXII

  Chapter XXIII

  Chapter XXIV

  Chapter XXV

  Chapter XXVI

  Chapter XXVII

  Chapter XXVIII

  Chapter XXVIX

  Chapter XXX

  Chapter XXXI

  Chapter XXXII

  Chapter XXXIII

  Chapter XXXIV

  Chapter XXXV

  Chapter XXXVI

  Chapter XXXVII

  Chapter XXXVIII

  Chapter XXXIX

  About the Author

  Battle of the Soul

  Chapter I

  Andy knocked on the door, then glanced at his watch. Damn, it was two o’clock. He was supposed to have been here at noon. He was always late, no matter where he went.

  A tall man with salt and pepper hair and a thin mustache answered the door. He wore a dress shirt and a long coat, like he had just come home from church.

  “Hi, Mr. Johnson. I’m here for our appointment.”

  Mr. Johnson’s eyes opened wide. “You’re Andrew Lorenzo?”

  “That’s me.” He always got the same reaction. Nobody expected an exorcist to have six days of stubble on his face, and to wear baggy pants, a tee shirt, and a backwards Eagles hat.

  Mr. Johnson frowned. “You were supposed to be here a couple of hours ago.”

  “I’m really sorry about that. I, um, got caught up in traffic.” It was a flimsy excuse for a Sunday afternoon, but it was the best he could come up with.

  A middle-aged woman wearing a long dress, with her hair tightly wrapped in a bun, stepped into the foyer from the family room. “Is it Mr. Lor-” The woman stopped when she got a good look at Andy.

  “Hi, Mrs. Johnson.”

  Mrs. Johnson put her hand to her face. “Oh, well thank you for coming.”

  Glancing at his wife, Mr. Johnson pulled out his cell phone. “Excuse me.” He exited the foyer. Probably going to call Monsignor Curran to verify that Andy was actually the exorcist he had sent. Andy got that all the time.

  Mrs. Johnson wore an uncomfortable smile. “So is this your normal attire when you perform exorcisms?”

  Andy shrugged. “It’s not like I gotta wear a suit for what I’m going to do.”

  “And you’ve done this before?”

  “More times than you can imagine.”

  When Mr. Johnson returned, his face softened. At least they weren’t going to kick him out of their house. “Mr. Lorenzo…”

  “Call me Andy.”

  “Andy, this has been a difficult time for us. Our son Roy has always been such an exceptional young man. He was a great athlete and got top grades. He was in his first semester at Princeton when this started.”

  Andy waved his hand. “I’m sure Rob’s a great dude, but it really isn’t going to affect the exorcism.”

  “Our son’s named Roy,” Mrs. Johnson corrected.

  Mr. Johnson frowned. “But don’t you need to know how his possession started?”

  “Not really.” He had heard these stories a hundred times.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Mrs. Johnson said.

  Andy nodded. “Yeah. If you don’t mind, before we get started can you put the TV onto Fox? I don’t think the Eagles game has reached halftime yet. And I can really use a beer.” What was he thinking scheduling an exorcism on a Sunday during football season? He had originally hoped to wrap this thing up by the time the game started so he could go to a bar and watch the game, but a nasty hangover killed that idea. When was he going to learn that tequila wasn’t his friend?

  Mr. Johnson sighed and turned on the television set, while Mrs. Johnson handed him a Yuengling.

  Andy sat on the couch with a beer in hand. Mr. Johnson raised his brows, and Mrs. Johnson took a step backward when Andy let out a loud cheer. The Birds had just intercepted the ball and were taking it to the house for a touchdown. He had a thousand dollars on the game, a bet he couldn’t afford to lose, a fact his bookie had made clear.

  “Our son is upstairs in his bedroom,” Mr. Johnson said.

  “I just need a minute to get myself mentally prepared.” There were three minutes left until halftime. He could be done by the middle of the third quarter. The game returned from commercial, and he sipped his beer. The Birds were up ten, and the spread was only three and a half points, so he was in good shape. “All right. I’m ready.”

  He chugged the rest of his beer and put the empty bottle on their fancy coffee table.

  “Let’s get to work. I’m usually starving after this is done. If it’s not too much trouble, a bite to eat would be nice. Nothing fancy. I’m a simple guy. Your son will probably be famished as well. Okay, Mr. Johnson, let’s go see Rob.”

  “It’s Roy.”

  “Right. Sorry about that.”

  Mr. Johnson looked glum as he turned to walk to the staircase.

  “Relax. Your son’s in good hands. He’ll be better in no time at all. I promise.”

  Andy followed him upstairs. He didn’t need Mr. Johnson to point out Roy’s bedroom. He could tell from the grunts coming from inside.

  Mr. Johnson stood before the room. “I have to warn you about what you’re going to see. Roy isn’t well.”

  Andy flicked his hand. “No need. I’ve seen it all before.”

  Mr. Johnson stood with his arms crossed, like he was debating whether or not Andy could possibly have been the exorcist sent by Monsignor Curran. Yep, he was the real deal. Live and in living color.

  Mr. Johnson opened the door, and Andy stepped inside. Roy was kicking and thrashing up a storm. They had strapped their son to the bed with ropes. Not hospitable, but Roy had probably been a handful lately.

  Andy walked to the bed and sat at its edge. “Hey, cuz, you’re not looking so good right now. Don’t worry. I’m here to help you out.” Roy’s skin was dark green. It was so dark, it looked like it had been dyed. He had open sores on his face. His breath smelled like a garbage can. The kid fought against the rop
es that bound him, but whoever tied him up had done a good job.

  Roy’s head shot up and he shouted in some language Andy couldn’t understand.

  “Yo, just relax.”

  Whatever demon occupied the kid’s body had a firm grip on him. It was a good thing they had arranged for Andy to get here now. In another week, Roy would be dead.

  It was time to get down to business. He turned to Mr. Johnson. “Can you please leave now.”

  Mr. Johnson’s lips curled. “Don’t you need a Bible? Father Lazzaro performed an exorcism rite when he was here last week.”

  Andy shook his head. “Yeah, and that didn’t work, now did it? That’s why they called me in. That old-school exorcism shit doesn’t work. Don’t worry, your son’s in good hands.” Andy ushered him to the door. “Roy and I will be down before you know it. Go kick your feet up, watch the game, and relax.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “What do you do for a living, Mr. Johnson?”

  “I’m a cardiologist.”

  “Look at this way, you wouldn’t like it if I went to the operating room and gave you pointers. I know you’re concerned. I get it, but you have to leave this to the expert.” He ushered Mr. Johnson out of the room. He didn’t like anyone around when he worked. Just him and the demon.

  Roy continued to shout in some ancient language. They were always hostile when Andy arrived. That’s because the demon was undoubtedly scared shitless. With good reason.

  Andy circled the bed. “Well, Roy, it’s time you get your life back. I know it must have sucked to be you lately. Don’t worry. I’m bustin’ your ass outta here and sending that demon where he belongs.”

  Andy cracked his knuckles and stretched his neck. He put his hands-on Roy’s shoulders and transferred himself into the kid’s soul. It was showtime.

  Chapter II

  Andy entered the kid’s soul like a world-class surfer riding a wave. When he first performed exorcisms, he would arrive into the world of the soul in a state of disorientation.

  He surveyed the drab landscape. Sometimes the world of the possessed soul was full of color, other times it was black and white. Here, everything was gray.

  He stood on a European-style cobbled walkway. No flowers or trees could be found. The terrain was rocky and lifeless. The sky had no clouds and blended into the horizon.

  In front of him stood a stone bridge crossing a stream. As he walked to the bridge, he realized the stream’s water wasn’t running. The water was blue, but not moving as if it were frozen in place. He saw his reflection in the still water and smiled. In the spirit world, he was tall and had a chiseled physique, nothing like his real world appearance, where he had below average height and was always fighting a losing battle with his waistline.

  He crossed the bridge. Where the hell was the demon? This had better not take long. If he didn’t finish the exorcism before the football game was over, he was going to be pissed.

  He narrowed his eyes and searched the monotonous terrain. In the world of the soul, he could amplify his eyesight as if looking through high-powered binoculars. All of his senses were heightened to inhuman levels. He could hear running water from miles away. He could smell even the faintest of scents, like a demon’s fear.

  He spotted something ahead, but it wasn’t the demon. Andy raced through the rock-strewn land, leaving a dust storm in his wake. He slowed near his destination, covering a distance of a few miles in a couple minutes.

  He reached an outcropping of a stone hill with a smooth and shiny surface. Within the outcropping was a small cell. Iron bars covered its entrance. The poor kid was trapped inside, cowering against the corner of his cell.

  “Stand up, Roy.”

  The kid whimpered. His body looked skinny and ragged, like he had spent time in a refugee camp. His clothes were tattered. Welts lined his neck and back. Hopefully, he wouldn’t remember any of this after Andy finished the exorcism.

  “Roy, I’m here to help. I know the demon hurt you, but I’m going to get you out of here. Look at me.”

  Roy stopped trembling. His body relaxed, but he remained against the cell wall.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Andy said in a commanding voice. In the real world, his voice sounded like that of a pack-a-day smoker even though he never touched cigarettes.

  “But he…he’ll come back. He said he would. He h-hurt me really bad, and he’ll hurt m-me again.”

  Andy knelt so they were at eye level. “Look, Roy, I promise he’ll never hurt you again. You’re going to have to trust me. I’m going to free you from this prison.”

  Roy nodded.

  Andy grabbed the iron bars. A few years ago, he had gone to a gym and was embarrassed when he could barely bench press seventy-five pounds. A couple of hot babes nearby had laughed at him. In the world of the soul, he had Herculean strength. He clutched the bars, took a deep breath, and wrenched them from the stone that held them in place.

  Roy gave him a look that was somewhere between reverence and awe. He got to his feet. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” Roy hugged him.

  “Listen, I’m going to bring you back to your family, but I need you to help me find the demon that’s been tormenting you. Where is he?”

  Roy closed his eyes. For a moment, Andy thought the kid was going to pass out. Then he would miss the Eagles game.

  Roy opened his eyes. “He took me to a…it was a dark house. He hurt me.”

  This guy goes to Princeton? He didn’t sound smart. Maybe it was just the trauma of possession.

  “It’s okay, Roy. He’s not going to hurt you again. I promise you. Just tell me where to find this dark house.”

  Roy pointed. “Mountain.”

  Using his enhanced vision, Andy spotted the outline of a house within the mountain. He put his hand on the kid’s shoulder. “I want you to stay here. I’m going to get rid of that demon.”

  Roy shrunk away and covered his face. “No, no, no. Don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone. Please, no.”

  The demon must have done a number on him.

  “It’s going to be okay. You want to be back with your family, right?”

  Roy nodded.

  “Then you have to let me do this.” Andy reached into his pocket and handed him a wristband. “This will protect you.”

  Roy held onto it as if it was the Holy Grail. The wristband had no power, but Roy didn’t have to know that. Andy would feel better battling the demon knowing Roy wasn’t whimpering in fear, thinking his savior had abandoned him.

  Andy took off like a bullet in the direction of the mountain. As he ran across the stony plain, he built momentum until he reached what he thought of as ludicrous speed, a velocity that shouldn’t be possible to achieve. As Andy was continuing to learn, in the world of the soul he was capable of accomplishing virtually anything he set his mind to.

  He slowed when he approached the house, stopping at the front door. Roy was right when he described the house as being dark. Any darker and it would be pitch black.

  A large wall stood in front of the house, as if that would stop Andy. He tilted his head and took a whiff of the demon’s scent. Just as he suspected, it was Arusha, a nasty albeit minor demon. Andy could dust him without breaking a sweat.

  “Arusha, I’ve come for you,” Andy taunted. “Take your beating like a proper demon.” He waited for a response. “It will only be worse if you make me go inside.”

  Arusha wasn’t coming out, so Andy leaped from his standing position to the top of the wall. What a pathetic defense. Arusha couldn’t possibly have thought that would keep him out. He jumped down from the top of the wall. There was no knob on the front door, so Andy busted through it with a front kick.

  “Arusha, you’ve been a bad boy. I saw what you did to the kid. Not nice. You know I’m not gonna let you get away with that.”

  The house was mostly empty with symbols carved on the walls. These symbols held no meaning to him. Andy walked around the first floor. Arusha’s s
tench, which reeked like a sewage pit, pervaded the place.

  Andy couldn’t find any hiding spots. By the increasing intensity of the stench, Arusha had to be close by. He was about to go up the stairs when a force knocked him down.

  Weak, pathetic blows came from his attacker. Andy put his arms up to defend himself, then pivoted his hips and turned around, coming face-to-face with Arusha. The demon had dirty yellow skin and a single streak of fur that ran from the top of his head to his tail like a mohawk. He had horns on either side of his head just above his ears. He kept blocking the punches, then thrust the demon off him.

  Andy sprang to his feet. The demon was about to charge, then stopped suddenly.

  Andy laughed. “You really think you can hurt me? You might be impressive among your circle of friends, but you’re a gnat to me.”

  Arusha stepped toward the front door. His voice was a low whine. “Why don’t you leave me alone? This business doesn’t concern you.”

  Andy folded his arms. “What are you talking about? This is my world. I’m not going to let you kill this kid. Someday I might just finish you off — permanently.”

  Arusha shook his head. “You can’t kill me.”

  “Is that right? That’s what Mel Amon said before I killed him. You demons are so arrogant. You think you’ll never die.”

  Arusha ran out the door, exiting the building. Andy bolted after him and within seconds overtook him. He tackled the demon to the hard surface. Andy winced as his left elbow slammed into the stone outside of the building. Blood poured from his wound, but he was unconcerned. His wound would be gone at the end of this exorcism.

  With his good arm, he ground Arusha’s face into the stone surface, causing him to growl. He lifted Arusha by the fury pelt that lined his back and planted a few powerful strikes to the demon’s abdomen, his fists burying into the leathery skin. Arusha doubled over, and Andy grabbed the fur on top of his head.

  “What you did to that kid was disgusting. In another few days, he would have died.”