Battle of the Soul

by Carl Alves

  Why did this have no effect on her? These were rituals that had existed for hundreds of years and had a proven track record of exorcising demons, but this one scoffed at their efforts.

  “All holy saints of God,” Father Christopher said.

  Lost in thought that was quickly turning to despair, Father Mark forgot to respond. His mentor stared at him, waiting to proceed. His voice barely above a whisper, Father Mark said, “Intercede for us.”

  “Be merciful.”

  This time Father Mark spoke in a louder voice. “Spare us, oh Lord.”

  “Be merciful.”

  “Graciously hear us, oh Lord.”

  “From all evil, deliver us, oh Lord,” Father Christopher said.

  “Deliver us, oh Lord.”

  Startled, Father Mark gaped at Amelia. Her nostrils flared. She looked like a feral animal. As they continued the litany, she shouted above them in a voice that sounded barely human.

  “We sinners,” Father Christopher said.

  “We beg you to hear us,” Father Mark responded.

  “That you spare us.”

  “We beg you to hear us.”

  They finished the litany despite Amelia’s protests. After Father Christopher recited Psalm fifty-three, the exorcism took a horrible turn. It started when Father Christopher’s voice began to fade. Before long, it sounded as if he were in another room. His voice continued to grow fainter until Father Mark could no longer hear it at all.

  His hands trembling, he turned to face Father Christopher. Where the priest should have been, there was only a haze of grey in human form. He reached out to touch Father Christopher, but his hand went through the haze. He looked around and found that Amelia was gone.

  The room turned dark. He closed his eyes and prayed that things would return to normal, but when he opened them again, the room had only grown murkier.

  “Father Christopher!” he shouted.

  In reply came a giggling, mocking voice, “Father Christopher.”

  A cacophony of voices greeted him, all calling for Father Christopher.

  He tried to fight his growing panic. This was not real. It couldn’t be real.

  He had seen horrifying sights, heard brooding sounds, felt despair and isolation in previous exorcisms, but had never seen the physical manifestation of a demon’s power until now. As much as he prided himself in his inner toughness, he was not sure he had the resolve to see this through. He wanted to turn and run.

  Once more, he yelled out to Father Christopher, but no reply came to him. He started walking slowly because it was dark and he could hardly see in front of him. Every few feet he stopped at the sound of voices. They were girlish and taunting, sometimes barely above a whisper and coming from a distance saying things like, leave now and no hope or this path leads to death.

  Father Mark reached into his pocket for his crucifix. His only way out of this was to put his faith in Christ. He prayed silently, hoping against hope that this madness would end.

  A young girl, not yet in her teens, emerged in front of him. She wore a flowing nightgown. Blood dripped down her face. Where her eyes should have been were empty sockets. She walked toward him, her hands outstretched, as if she were feeling her way around.

  Father Mark moaned. “No.”

  The girl kept moving forward.

  “Stay away.” Father Mark closed his eyes. “Be gone with you, demon.”

  When he opened his eyes, she was no longer there. He breathed a little easier. It was just in his head. There had never been an eyeless girl in front of him.

  Without warning, someone wrapped their arms around him. His screams broke the silence. He thrashed his arms and legs, trying to escape. After a few moments of struggling, he got loose and stared at his assailant. It was the same girl with the missing eyes. Without thought, he ran, not caring about the lack of visibility, only trying to get as much distance as he could from the girl.

  Losing his balance, he stumbled and fell face-first into a hard surface. His face scraped the ground. Blood trickled from his nose and forehead. His face felt raw. His breathing became heavy. How was he going to get out of this?

  He fumbled in the darkness, trying to gain his bearings, when his hand felt something soft and furry. Immediately he recoiled, repulsed from its touch.

  His eyes adjusted to the darkness enough for him to see that it was a spider the size of his fist. He reacted violently when it crawled onto him. More of the spider’s brethren joined it. Before long, dozens of these monstrous creatures swarmed on him. He closed his eyes and told himself they weren’t real. They were just images the demon conjured to frighten him. When the spiders began biting, that dispelled his notion.

  He got up and ran, trying to shake the creatures off him. As he burst through the darkness, he wondered what other hellish torments awaited.

  Where was Father Christopher? When he managed to rid himself of the last of the spiders, he slowed. He was breathing hard. What if he never got out of this world of quasi-darkness where things could attack without warning?

  He called out to Father Christopher, not expecting a response and not receiving one. Walking back the way he had come from, he tried to determine just where he was at when this all started, but it was too dark to see more than a few feet in front of him.

  Whispers came from all around him. You’re too late…too late. Followed by,

  Save yourself. The girl’s already dead. The whispers became louder until they felt like they were bombarding his head.

  “Enough of this, demon.” Father Mark tried to speak with conviction but his words sounded weak.

  “Oh, but I’ve only begun,” a voice responded.

  Unseen hands reached out for Father Mark. They felt leathery and withered with age. Father Mark jumped back into another pair of hands that groped him. These ones felt soft and feminine. He stepped forward, and hands began to grab him from all directions. He tried to break free, but there were too many, and he could not see where they were coming from.

  A powerful pair of hands wrapped around his neck and began to choke him. He gasped for breath and swung his arms to free himself from his attacker, but the hands that were around his neck did not seem to belong to an owner. They were free-floating.

  He struggled to breathe. When he spoke, his voice was little more than a croak. “Help.”

  The grip loosened, and this time a more familiar set of hands held his shoulders.

  “Mark, come back to me.”

  Color started to return to the room. He looked up into Father Christopher’s deep, penetrating eyes.

  Father Mark couldn’t stop himself from shaking. He had no idea what supernatural forces caused him to see and experience those things, but it was over now.

  Father Christopher frowned. “Your face. You’re bleeding. What happened to you?”

  Father Mark wiped his face, then stared at his bloody hands. Impossible. He thought it had been a hallucination, but it had really happened. He shook his head.

  Father Christopher’s face turned stern. “I need you here with me now. You need to focus on the task at hand. Do not let that demon get to you.”

  That was easier said than done. Father Christopher had not seen the eyeless ghost girl or had his body swarmed with spiders. Nonetheless, Father Mark nodded.

  “Good,” Father Christopher said. “Let’s return.”

  He had no idea where they were at in the exorcism. He tried to gain his bearings as Father Christopher proceeded with a reading from the Gospel of St. Mark and then one from the Gospel of St. Luke. During this time, he waited for a reoccurrence of what he had experienced, but it did not materialize.

  After the reading, Father Christopher made the sign of the cross. As he made the sign of the cross over Amelia, her head snapped, and she bit him.

  Father Christopher shrieked, and Father Mark jerked her away by her shoulders. Amelia laughed loudly as if she just heard the world’s most uproarious joke.

  This only seemed to solidi
fy Father Christopher’s resolve as he brandished his cross. “See the cross of the Lord. Be gone, you hostile powers!”

  Father Mark said, “The stem of David, the lion of Judea’s tribe has conquered.”

  “Lord, heed my prayer,” Father Christopher said.

  “And let my cry be heard by you,” Father Mark said.

  He waited for Father Christopher to continue, but he fell silent. He glanced at Father Christopher, whose mouth twitched, and his eyes went wide. He then turned to Amelia, who began to giggle.

  “That looks like the face of fear,” Amelia said.

  Father Christopher sunk to his knees. He brought a shaking hand to his face. Blood streamed from his nostrils.

  Father Mark looked around, unsure what to do. Whatever happened to him earlier was now occurring with his mentor.

  Putting his hands over his face, Father Christopher spoke with a shaky voice. “No…please stop.”

  Amelia continued to giggle.

  Father Mark clenched his fists. At that moment, he wanted to do nothing more than lash out Amelia and strike her as hard as he could. He stopped himself, knowing that physical violence against the possessed did nothing to exorcise the demon. Not to mention that although there was a demon inside, there was no way he could bring himself to strike a pregnant woman, regardless of the circumstances.

  He jumped when Amelia touched his shoulder. Her touch had the same feel as those spiders crawling on his body. “It looks like you’ll have to do this on your own.”

  Father Mark had always assisted Father Christopher on these exorcisms. If somehow Father Christopher became incapacitated during an exorcism, he knew how to proceed, but this demon’s power was far beyond anything he had ever experienced. He would wind up getting himself killed.

  He lifted Father Christopher to his feet. “Come back to me.” He gripped Father Christopher’s shoulders tightly, his nails digging into his shirt. “I can’t do this alone. Don’t succumb to this demon. Be strong.”

  Father Christopher had the look of a frightened child, but there was more clarity in his eyes than there had been moments ago.

  “We can do this. Don’t let it defeat you.” Father Mark removed his handkerchief and wiped the blood off his friend’s face. His own had coagulated on his forehead. “Are you okay?”

  Father Christopher nodded.

  “Then let’s proceed with the exorcism.”

  With less resolve than when he started, Father Christopher said, “I cast you out, unclean spirit, along with every satanic power of the enemy, every specter from hell, and all your fallen companions, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Be gone and stay far from this creature of God, for it is He who commands you, He who flung you, betrayer of the nations, instigator of envy, font of avarice, fomenter of discord, author of pain and sorrow. Why then do you stand and resist, knowing as you must that Christ the Lord brings your plans to nothing? Fear Him, who in Isaac was offered in sacrifice, in Joseph sold into bondage, slain as the pascal lamb, crucified as man, yet triumphed over the powers of hell.”

  As Father Christopher went to make the sign of the cross on Amelia’s forehead, she let out a cry, one that sounded like a woman’s cry and not the manly voice she had been using before.

  Father Christopher stopped what he was doing.

  Amelia gave another painful cry. “My baby! He’s coming now.”

  Father Christopher turned to Father Mark. “Get Sister Catherine now.”

  “But what about the exorcism?”

  “If this baby is ready to be delivered, then that has to come first.”

  Father Mark nodded, an awful sense of foreboding rushing through him.

  Chapter XXXI

  Father Mark ran out of the room to get the midwife, Sister Catherine, who was waiting nearby. On the way to the convent where Amelia was staying, he and Father Christopher had debated on whether or not to arrange for an Ob/Gyn physician to be present for a possible delivery. Father Mark argued that it would be prudent from a medical standpoint, since there would undoubtedly be complications, but Father Christopher argued that bringing in a physician who was a layperson would have its own complications. How would a physician handle a possessed patient? In the end, they decided on Sister Catherine to perform the delivery. She was a midwife with over a dozen years’ experience and had handled many deliveries.

  Sister Catherine rose from her chair, where she had been praying the rosary. “Is the patient in labor?”

  “Very much so,” Father Mark replied.

  “How…is she?”

  Father Mark shook his head. “Not well. I’ve never seen a case of possession quite like this one.”

  A religious person like Sister Catherine would be more willing to accept the concept of possession, not to mention she had a wealth of inner strength that Father Mark had observed during the time they had known each other.

  “Are you ready?” Father Mark asked.

  Sister Catherine hesitated before nodding. How could she possibly be ready? They were wading blindly into uncharted territory.

  “Your face.” Sister Catherine motioned to the blood that was drying on his cheek and forehead.

  “There is quite a bit of danger involved here. Once you enter that room, you will be facing great peril.”

  “I understand, Father. But we must do what we can for the girl and her baby. It’s our duty.”

  They entered the room. Father Christopher’s eyes were wide, as if stricken by terror.

  Father Mark gritted his teeth. The demon possessing Amelia was up to more of its tricks. They didn’t have time for this. He slapped Father Christopher across the face, but he did not react.

  He gripped his mentor’s shoulders and stared into his eyes. “I need you to come back to me now. Our work isn’t done here.”

  Father Christopher spoke in a small voice. “No, I can’t.”

  “Yes you can. Amelia needs you.”

  Father Christopher seemed on the verge of tears. “I can’t. Leave me be.”

  Next to him, Sister Catherine was speaking to Amelia in a low tone. Father Mark didn’t have time for this. He reared back and slapped the priest even harder across the face.

  Sister Catherine turned and gasped.

  Father Mark grabbed him by his shirt. “Come back to me, damn it.”

  Father Christopher whimpered. “I can’t do this.”

  “Well, I can’t do this alone, so you have no choice.” Father Mark turned toward Sister Catherine, who was positioned at the foot of Amelia’s bed. “How is she doing?”

  Sister Catherine ignored him. “I need you to push, Amelia. Be strong for your baby’s sake.”

  Amelia grunted. “Oh, God. Please help me.”

  That was clearly not the demon speaking. Father Mark went to her bedside and held her hand. “We’re here for you and your baby, Amelia. We’re going to see you through this. You’re not alone.”

  Tears formed in Amelia’s eyes. “It hurts so much. What’s going to happen to my baby? He won’t let me have it.”

  “Who won’t let you have it?” Father Mark asked.

  He winced as Amelia dug her fingernails into his arm. She scowled at him. The demon had returned.

  She spoke in that harsh, masculine voice from earlier. “No more questions, priest. She is merely the vessel to deliver my beautiful offspring into your world. And when she does, dark days will descend upon you. Your world will be misery.”

  “Be gone, demon.” Father Christopher held his cross. “Leave this woman and her baby alone.”

  “Don’t you understand, priest? When she said she had not conceived this child with a man, she did not lie. You had your Immaculate Conception two thousand years ago. This is the next Immaculate Conception. My offspring will come into your world and rule it with an iron fist. It will be his domain to conquer.”

  “Push,” Sister Catherine said. “The baby will be coming soon. I need you to work with me, Amelia.”

  Father Mark stared at Sister Ca
therine.

  She remained steadfast in performing her duty. “You need to push, Amelia.”

  Amelia’s eyes narrowed. “You are so determined to deliver this child, yet when you had a child in your womb, Sister Catherine, you chose to abort it. How ironic.”

  Sister Catherine took a step back, frozen as if in shock. She put her hands to her mouth, her face contorted.

  Amelia laughed loudly. “Do you even remember the young man’s name who planted the seed within you? I doubt it, since you kept the company of many men in those days. I suppose that you have reformed and devoted your life to God, a foolish pursuit if there ever was one.”

  Sister Catherine took another step back, and bumped into Father Mark.

  He took her arm. “Don’t listen to it. This demon’s a trickster. It tries to deceive, to cloud, and confuse. You have a job to do, Sister. Don’t let it stop you from doing your job.”

  “But how…”

  Father Mark cut her off. “Don’t dwell upon its words. Just think of Amelia and the baby.”

  Now was not the time to learn about the skeletons in Sister Catherine’s closet. He needed her to focus on her task. The demon had affected each of them in a profound way.

  Sister Catherine nodded. “I need you to push now.” Her words lacked the same vigor they had earlier.

  Father Mark turned to Father Christopher. “Should we continue with the exorcism?”

  Father Christopher sighed. “I think we need to admit that our exorcism rite seems to have no effect on this demon. The demon scoffs at us and sneers at our words. I suggest we pause for now, at least until the baby has delivered.”

  Father Mark had never seen his mentor look so defeated. He knew there was truth in his words, but he didn’t want to give up.

  The room turned grey. Father Mark’s eyes darted from side to side. Father Christopher faded as if he were a holographic projection. The same held true for Sister Catherine. She was there but not really there. The only one that still looked fully alive was Amelia.

  Amelia rose from her bed and ambled toward Father Mark. He stepped back as she opened her mouth and displayed long, sharp fangs. He glanced to Father Christopher and Sister Catherine, but they seemed to have faded further.