Battle of the Soul

by Carl Alves

  Amelia twirled her hair in a seductive pose as she moved closer to him. “What’s the matter, Father? You’re not afraid of little old me.”

  Trying to get away from her, he banged into a table at the edge of the room. This wasn’t the real Amelia. This was the demon possessing her.

  “You know, I’ve always wanted to fuck a priest.” She lifted her shirt to reveal large, swollen breasts and a very pregnant belly. She leaned in toward him. Her hair had the scent of vanilla. “Don’t tell me you haven’t done this before. It wouldn’t be befitting a priest to lie. You were sixteen at the time, and oh so nervous. It wasn’t a good experience for you or the girl.” Amelia laughed. “You couldn’t rush to the confessional fast enough to tell Father Robert that you had been a naughty boy.”

  Father Mark shook his head. How could this demon know such intimate details of his life? No wonder Sister Catherine had looked so stricken when the demon revealed her past.

  Amelia grabbed his hand and put it on her breast. “I know you’re married to God, but I promise I won’t tell.” Amelia moved his hand over her distended belly. “You won’t regret it.”

  As she closed in on him trying to press her lips against his, he slid on top of the table.

  Amelia smiled. “We can do it on the table if you like.” She squeezed her breasts together. “I like it rough.”

  “Leave this woman alone, demon.” Father Mark’s heart thundered. Sweat dripped down his forehead. His shirt clung to his skin. “You have no claim on her. She’s a child of God.”

  “God is so yesterday’s news. Haven’t you heard? I’m taking over. Once my son takes his rightful place here, the world below will not be my only domain. It’s not too late to switch sides. We can consummate this deal by fucking like animals.”

  Amelia reached for his crotch. He scrambled away from her as if she were a knife-wielding maniac.

  “You mean you don’t want me?” Bloody tears dripped down her face. “Well if you don’t want me, then life isn’t worth living.” A knife emerged in her hand from out of nowhere.

  “What are you doing?”

  She turned the knife on herself. Father Mark’s eyes went wide. He lunged toward her at the same time she plunged the knife into her belly. He was too late. The knife found its mark. Blood and fetal matter gushed out of her stomach. He thought he could make out the baby’s arm and head.

  Father Mark screamed. “No!”

  Amelia gave a maniacal laugh as she pulled the baby out of her belly. It was a tangled mess of arms, legs, and placenta. She took a bite out of the baby, blood and flesh covering her mouth. The sheer glee in her eyes sickened him. Rage replaced his terror. He grabbed the baby from her hands. His lips in a tight snarl, he felt an overwhelming urge to put his hands around her neck and choke her lifeless.

  She wrapped her arms around him, the blood and gore from the baby covering him. She leaned in toward him. Before he could defend himself, he felt the searing pain of her fangs ripping into his neck.

  He flailed at her with his fists, fighting desperately for his life. Instead of hitting Amelia, he was punching Father Christopher’s arms as he reached down.

  Father Christopher gripped him tightly. “Gain control of yourself. Whatever you are seeing isn’t real. It’s just the demon’s illusions. Don’t let it control you. You are a servant of God. Put yourself in the hands of the Almighty. Don’t be a tool of this vile creature.”

  Father Mark covered his face and began to weep. He couldn’t do this anymore. He always took pride in his mental fortitude. He always believed that no matter what lay ahead, he would be equal to the task. It was this mindset that led him to accept Father Christopher’s offer to apprentice under him as an exorcist. Now he was finding out just how weak he was. This demon had exposed him.

  Father Christopher grabbed his wrists and shook them. “Put yourself together. The baby is almost here.” He pulled Father Mark to his feet. “I want to restart the exorcism once the baby delivers. Can you handle it?”

  Father Mark shook his head. “No. I have to leave.”

  Through gritted teeth, Father Christopher said, “That’s not an option. You are seeing this through to the end. Do I make myself clear?”

  Father Mark tried to calm his trembling hands, but it was wasted effort.

  In a softer tone, Father Christopher said, “I know this is difficult. I’m going through it the same as you are, Mark, but we must do this. There are two lives at stake. Who are we, if we give up and leave this woman and her baby to fend for themselves?”

  His friend spoke true words, but he could not erase the image of Amelia eating the baby from his mind. He kept telling himself that none of that had actually happened since he could see Amelia lying on the bed pushing, not covered in gore.

  Reaching for his damp shirt, he felt wetness on his hands. He pulled his hands back, and to his disbelief, they were covered with blood coming from his neck. The wound had occurred during the struggle with Amelia in that last apparition. If not for Father Christopher’s intervention, he would have died.

  Sister Catherine stood at the bedside, coaching Amelia. “I need you to push again. The baby’s almost here.”

  The baby’s legs began to emerge, intact and not the victim of a knife wound. Father Mark’s heart was pounding so hard in his chest that he thought he was going to have a heart attack.

  “One more time,” Sister Catherine said. “I need you to push.”

  Amelia gave a dying gasp accompanied by the gurgling of blood.

  Father Mark made the sign of the cross as the baby came out of his mother’s womb, and Amelia began to bleed out. Not only was blood pouring out of her mouth, it was also gushing out of her eyes, nose, ears, and vagina. She was bleeding so heavily that there was no chance that they could do anything to help her.

  Just as he thought Amelia would go into shock and die, her body jerked upward. She spoke in that same masculine voice she had used earlier. “Behold my son. His birth will usher in a new age.” Amelia gave a laugh, spitting out blood before collapsing onto her bed. Father Mark grabbed her wrist and felt no pulse. Numb with grief, he couldn’t even muster tears.

  Father Christopher held the baby while Sister Catherine cut the cord. She cleaned the baby with towels and swaddled him in a blanket. The baby gave a wailing cry. Filled with melancholy, Father Mark stared at the baby, the son of the demon that killed poor Amelia. He looked so innocent, nothing remotely out of the ordinary about him, certainly no demon child.

  Father Christopher tugged at his arm. “We have to talk.” He nodded to the adjacent room.

  Father Mark followed him to the room. He was dreading this conversation more than any he had ever had in his life.

  “We have to decide what to do with the baby,” Father Christopher said.

  Father Mark folded his trembling hands and put them to his lips.

  When he did not say anything, Father Christopher continued. “Perhaps we should kill him right now.”

  Father Mark could barely get out the words. “Kill him?”

  “Come on, Mark. You heard what that demon said. Somehow the boy is going to usher in a new age. The woman claimed there was no father. The demon said that he was the father. You saw how powerful this demon is. Do you have any doubt that he was speaking the truth?”

  Father Mark looked up at the ceiling, hoping for some much-needed divine inspiration. “I know all this. Of course I do, but look at him. He’s just a baby, a precious one at that.”

  “Sometimes in life you have to make hard choices. Yes, he’s just a baby, and if we take that course of action, it will rip my soul in two, but what if this baby will bring upon an apocalypse, much like that demon intimated? If that’s the case, and we fail to act, then we will be responsible for what’s to come. Are you willing to take that chance?”

  Father Mark paused for a long moment, pictures swimming in his head. What would King Solomon do if he were alive right now? Would he take the sword and slice the child’s
throat or would he let him live? Father Mark did not pretend to have that level of wisdom, but he knew they had to make a decision, one that would have major ramifications.

  Father Mark took a deep breath. “Yes. I am willing to take that chance. We won’t kill this baby.”

  Father Christopher put his hand on Father Mark’s shoulder. “Good. That’s the right choice, but we had to at least consider the possibility. Then we must take it upon ourselves to raise this boy. We can’t entrust his care to a foster family, no matter how good and well intentioned they are. We must be with him every step of the way. We have to be there to guide him, to teach him right from wrong, to hold his hand, to be firm when he needs it for as long as he lives.”

  “We will,” Father Mark said. “I will. I am younger than you…and more paternal.”

  Father Christopher grinned. “That you are. Had you not chosen the priesthood, you would have made a fine father. Very well, we take the child with us and make the necessary arrangements. This won’t be an easy adoption, but I know people who can make it happen.”

  They went back in the room, and Father Mark held the baby, trying to avoid looking at Amelia, who lay dead on the mattress. For better or worse, he would be this baby’s guardian.

  Chapter XXXII

  Andy leaned his head against his pillow. “You mean Father Christopher was really going to kill me?”

  Monsignor Curran shook his head. “He would never have murdered a baby. Even if he wanted to, I wouldn’t have allowed it.”

  “So it’s all true. This demon really is my father.”

  Monsignor Curran sighed. “I can’t say for certain, but it’s likely.”

  “That sucks. My dad’s a fucking demon. Not only a demon, but the most powerful one I’ve ever encountered. And I’m some demon seed or something.”

  “It doesn’t matter if he’s your father. I know who you are. I’ve known you from the moment you were born. Even though we share no genetic material or blood relations, I have always thought of you as my son. Nothing will ever change that. I know what’s inside you. For all your faults, you’re an inherently good person. You care about others. Your willingness to sacrifice yourself for Kate is as selfless as anything I have ever seen.”

  “I guess you’re right.” Andy threw his hands in the air. “Fuck him. I don’t care if he’s my father. I’m not him, and he can’t control me. I just wish I was strong enough to kill that son of a bitch. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t beat the demonic trio, let alone my father.”

  Monsignor Curran stroked his chin. “You fared better in your last battle against them?”

  “Dude, I almost got killed. Are you kidding me?”

  “I realize that, but prior to that you had far greater success against them than you had the first time?”

  “Well, yeah,” Andy said. “I got some licks on them.”

  “And you’re more powerful than you were before?”

  “Hmph. Little good that did. They still beat the snot out of me.”

  “I believe that being close to your father is making you more powerful,” Monsignor Curran said. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he acted as a conduit for your strength. I believe you will be significantly stronger the next time. During your delivery, he spoke of the dawn of a new age. The coming of an apocalypse is how Father Christopher and I interpreted it. Based on this, I would guess that your level of power in the world of the soul should at least approach his, if not surpass it. You’re far more powerful than you even realize. And I believe that extends to the world above. You just don’t realize it yet.”

  “What difference does it make? Granted I got some satisfaction when I finally landed some blows on that bastard. Still, I can’t beat them. Not that I’m gonna let that stop me. I’m going back in the next time Kate lapses into possession. I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’m goin’ back in.”

  “I may have an idea on how to fight them.”

  Andy propped himself up on his bed. “Yeah? What are you thinkin’?”

  “I don’t want to say just yet. I’d like to ponder this a bit longer before we come up with a game plan.”

  “All, right. Well, it’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

  Andy saw Kate standing by the door. She looked terrified.

  Monsignor Curran made his way to the door. “I will see you later. Get some rest.”

  Andy waited until Monsignor Curran left the room. “How long you been waiting out there?”

  Kate looked away from him. “A while.”

  “And how much did you hear?”

  “Most of it.” She entered the room and sat on his bed. “None of the stuff matters, Andy. I saw what happened the last time. I saw how much they hurt you, and I saw how you never stopped fighting for me. I don’t care if that bad monster is your father. I’ll love you no matter what.”

  Andy couldn’t stop the tears forming in his eyes. Had to be the pain meds. He kissed her forehead. “That means more to me than you could possibly imagine. I love you too, Kate, and I’m going to do everything I can to beat those monsters. I promise you that.”

  Kate laid her head on his chest. “I know you will. Am I going to die?”

  There was no point in lying to her after all she had been through. “I don’t know, Kate, but if comes to it, I’ll sacrifice myself to save you.”

  Kate began to cry. “No! I don’t want you to die.”

  “I don’t either, but I’m not going to let them take you. I swear I won’t let them have you.”

  For a while, neither of them said anything. Andy wiped away tears from Kate’s eyes. Kate looked up at him. “I found Battleship.”

  “Then let’s play. Best two out of three. Winner gets two Twix bars and a Snickers.”

  “And a Take Five.”

  Andy smiled and ran his fingers through her hair. “You drive a hard bargain, sister. All right, this time you’re going down.”

  As they set up the board, Andy was thankful for this little diversion. He knew there would be dark days ahead for them. Having this little bit of time with her was precious.

  Chapter XXXIII

  Two days after his reawakening, all Andy wanted to do was check out of this hospital. The food sucked. The doctors and nurses kept drawing blood and poking him with needles. It seemed like they wanted to run every test imaginable on him, most likely because they had never seen a case like his. It would be a hard sell to tell them he was nearly killed in Kate’s soul by four demons, including his father, that rotten son of a bitch.

  He still couldn’t believe his father wanted Andy to join him. He wasn’t proud of many things he had done in life, but he wasn’t evil. He would rather die than join that demon.

  The only thing that kept him going was the constant visits from his friends, especially Kate. He now even counted Lucas among his friends. Despite their rocky start, they had bonded of late. They had a long conversation last night, talking about life, faith, and other deep topics, but mostly about fighting strategy.

  He and Lucas had analyzed every detail of his last battle in Kate’s soul. Lucas had awesome insight on combat strategy and gave Andy sound advice, things he had never thought about. He even drew charts with outlines. The only problem was that Andy didn’t know what Kate’s soul would look like the next time he entered it. From the first to the second visit, it had changed so drastically. What he needed was Lucas with him during the exorcism. Even if Lucas couldn’t participate, his coaching would be invaluable. It was all wishful thinking. It would be up to him to destroy those demons.

  The next time a doctor came to visit, he would ask to be discharged. He wasn’t sure who to ask, since he had seen at least a half dozen docs during his stay. He was tired of being their guinea pig. They treated him like a medical freak show. A few times, Andy had lost his cool over the constant injections and blood being drawn.

  With any luck, Monsignor Curran would sneak him some good grub. He had requested fried chicken. This hospital food wasn’t fit for prison
ers.

  Another in a long list of nurses entered the room. This one was a scruffy looking dude with curly hair. He hadn’t seen this nurse before. He appeared to be getting syringes ready for yet another injection. “How are you doing today, Mr. Lorenzo?”

  “Been better, chief. This hospital stuff is getting real old. I just want to get out of here.”

  The nurse smiled as he continued to work. “Oh, I don’t think you have to worry about that. You’ll be getting out of here soon.”

  “Trust me. It won’t be soon enough. Being in this hospital is depressing.”

  “I’ll see what I can do to speed things up.”

  As the nurse filled the syringe, Andy noticed something peeking beneath his green scrubs. Just next to his right shoulder blade, the nurse had a tattoo. Andy took a closer look and froze. Holy shit! The tattoo was a head of a goat inside a pentagram. He stifled a gasp. It was the same tattoo the Legion dudes who attacked him at his apartment had been wearing. This was no nurse.

  Andy had to act quickly. The nurse’s back was turned to him. He grabbed his IV stand with both hands and swung it at the nurse. The blow had the desired effect, knocking him forward, but Andy’s advantage was only momentary.

  “You son of a bitch.” The nurse snarled, all pretenses gone. He had a look of hatred in his eyes.

  Andy scrambled back in his bed. Not that he could fight this guy off under normal circumstances, but he felt so weak. He searched for a weapon. Having already used the IV pole, the only thing he could find was the phone. He picked it up and threw it at the nurse to no avail.

  The nurse grabbed him by his gown and punched him in the face. Andy’s nose felt like it was going to explode. His head slammed against the back of the bed. When the room came into focus again, the nurse loomed above him holding the syringe he’d been preparing.

  Lucas burst into the room, darted across, grabbed the man’s hand, and connected with a right cross to his jaw.