The Exorcist's Apprentice

by Mark Lukens

  “No,” Danny said weakly, still trying to cling to the belief. “No, Paul. It’s only … it’s only Melissa.”

  “It’s not Melissa,” Paul said, taking another step closer to Danny. “It’s a demon disguised to look like your sister.”

  “My … my sister?”

  “Lisa,” Paul said, and a tear slipped from his eye.

  Danny looked back at the girl and saw her in a new light now.

  “When she was a baby,” Paul continued, “and you were only three years old, you used to call her your Lisa. You would say, ‘My Lisa,’ but it would come out as Melissa.”

  “No …” Danny breathed out. This wasn’t right. He was trying to concentrate, but the whispering voices and chirping of insects was louder in his mind now. The white noise of static was becoming deafening.

  He looked back at Melissa who was peeling the dirty bandages away from her face. The bandages fell away in one large piece like a paper mask and it landed on the floor with the crackling sound of a dry husk of corn.

  Or the husk of an insect.

  Underneath the bandages was the face of his sister Lisa, blue and bloated. It was the face of a drowned girl. And then the bloated dead thing smiled with dark blue lips. The smile was a twisted half-smile and her eyes turned as black as two chunks of coal.

  Then the entire apparition turned to murky water and collapsed down onto the floor in a puddle of dark water.

  Danny turned back to Paul who was crying now and shaking his head no.

  “Dad …” Danny said, suddenly able to say the word, suddenly able to remember everything.

  “Son,” Paul said and took another step closer.

  “I remember now, Dad. I remember that night. I remember what I did. I … I killed them.”

  PAR† FOUR

  CHAP†ER †HIR†Y-SIX

  Danny was suddenly in his mother’s car that night. His mother drove down the dark road, the marshy lake laid out before them at the bottom of the hill where the road made a sharp curve. The reflectors on the guardrail shined back at them, bouncing the car’s headlights back to them.

  There were some bags packed. They were in the trunk. There had been some arguing before they left. Rachael told them that they needed to leave town for a few weeks. Danny and Lisa didn’t want to go, and he remembered that his mother wasn’t giving them a very good explanation about why they were leaving.

  They were still arguing as they drove.

  As they headed down the decline towards the lake, Danny saw the blond-haired man standing on the side of the road—the same man he’d seen on the way home from school, the same man who had tried to break into the basement door.

  What was he doing out here in the middle of nowhere?

  He stood at the side of the road, close to where the trees began, his feet invisible among the weeds and grasses.

  The man just watched them as they approached, smiling that twisted smile of his.

  And then the man raised his arms like he was gripping his own invisible steering wheel, and then he yanked it suddenly.

  Danny saw himself trying to grab the steering wheel his mother was suddenly fighting to control.

  “The steering wheel!” she screamed. “It’s locked! I can’t move it!”

  Danny tried to help her move the steering wheel.

  Or did he? Was that how it really happened? Or was he the one holding onto the steering wheel, keeping their car straight as they raced towards the guardrail.

  Screams from the backseat. Lisa, screaming.

  There was the sound of the car crashing through the guardrail, the impact, the screeching of metal.

  The crash of the airbags.

  Then the rush of water.

  The darkness.

  The cold.

  Mom struggling for air, fighting with her seatbelt, gulping in mouthfuls of water, gurgling and screaming. Lisa was knocked out from the crash, already unconscious and inhaling water.

  Danny held his breath, fumbling with his seatbelt.

  He had to get free …

  †

  Danny was back in the hallway again. He stared at Paul through his tears. “I killed them.”

  “No,” Paul said. He had to get his son to see the truth. “The demons killed them. They got inside of you. They did it, not you.”

  “I have a … a demon inside of me?”

  “You’re possessed,” Paul said. “It’s called perfect possession. It’s when a demon has buried itself so deeply inside of you that you don’t even know it’s there. It messes with your mind, tries to convince you that you see things. It lies to you. Tries to confuse you.”

  Paul saw Robert, Helen, and both priests coming out of the sitting room. They were watching. They were waiting.

  “Put the knife down,” Paul said in a gentle voice. “Please, Danny.”

  Danny looked down at the knife like he just realized he still had it in his hand.

  “Danny,” Paul said again, and took a step closer. “We don’t have a lot of time. You need to come with us. We need to exorcise the demons from you while you’re still able to help us.”

  Danny just stood there.

  “Danny, please. We don’t have much time. I need your help, son. I need you to fight your way back. You can do this.”

  Danny nodded and dropped the knife on the floor. “I want them out,” he whispered.

  Paul glanced back at the others and they hurried past Paul and escorted Danny towards the stairs, all of them cautious and nervous with Danny, constantly whispering reassurances to him the whole time, praying with him—praying for him.

  As they walked Danny past the foot of the stairs towards the door in the panel that led down to the basement, Paul hurried up the stairs to his room.

  He was going to need his canvas bag now.

  †

  Danny allowed himself to be led to the basement door. He watched as Father Hopkins unlocked the padlock. He entered the darkness of the basement and walked carefully down the steps.

  He drifted off into blackness for a moment, escaping into a cocoon of safety from this madness, from the unbelievable reality he was living right now.

  He came to his senses once his wrists were strapped down to the flat arms of the wooden chair that was bolted to the concrete floor in the basement. The leather cuffs were attached to the arms of the chair; they were thick and they were buckled around his wrists. He tried to move his arms, but he could only move them an inch or two up from the arm of the chair. His bonds were too strong to break. He was helpless now. He was their prisoner.

  They’re going to do the same thing to you that they did to Melissa, a voice whispered at him, like someone was standing right behind him in his mind.

  Danny felt panic building up inside of him, and he struggled a little harder.

  You let them strap you down, and now they’re going to cut little pieces of your face off until you tell them that your demons are gone. They’re going to wrap your face in old dirty bandages while your wounds fester and rot. They’re going to keep you down here until you die in this chair!

  Down at Danny’s feet, both priests worked frantically to buckle the cuffs to his ankles and strap them to the legs of the chair.

  Father Severino, who was in front of Danny’s right leg, let out a scream. He toppled backwards and jumped to his feet. He stared down at his hands as smoke drifted up from his fingertips where blisters had suddenly formed.

  “Holy water!” Father Hopkins called out. “Quickly!”

  Robert dashed out from the darkness of the basement into their circle of light with a glass bottle in his hand. He sprinkled the blessed water on Father Severino’s fingers.

  Father Hopkins crouched down at Danny’s right foot and he pulled on the straps, grunting with effort, pinning Danny’s leg to the chair. Danny tried to extend his leg, but it was too late. Father Hopkins had his leg secured already.

  And then the old priest scrambled away from the chair and got up to his feet.

>   “What’s going on?” Danny tried to say, but his mouth was too dry. It felt like he had swallowed a quart of beach sand. His tongue felt swollen and rough.

  Nobody answered him.

  “No, I’m not possessed,” Danny said, but his own voice sounded so far away from his ears.

  They’re going to slice off pieces of your face, Danneeee!

  No! Melissa’s not real. She was never real. I saw my sister’s face under those bandages.

  Lisa. Melissa. Lisa. Melissa. LisaMelissaLisaMelissa…

  Danny had to fight, he knew that, but it felt like some unimaginably strong force was trying to push his mind down into the darkness. He could feel himself shrinking back, further and further away from his body.

  I saw Melissa turn to water, Danny wanted to scream, but he couldn’t find his voice anymore. He couldn’t make it work now.

  And then he felt himself being pulled away into the darkness again, and now he couldn’t stop it. He was so tired now. He didn’t want to fight anymore.

  Before he was lost in the darkness, Danny heard his own voice giggling. He could hear words coming from his own mouth, but they weren’t his words, and his voice didn’t sound like his voice anymore.

  He slipped away …

  †

  “We’re losing him,” Father Hopkins said as he watched Danny. He held a crucifix in his hand and kept his distance even though Danny was securely strapped down to the chair.

  “You think that crucifix, that worthless piece of metal, is going to do anything to me?” Danny growled at Father Hopkins.

  The priest didn’t answer; he knew better than to converse with a demon—it was a never-win situation. Instead, he prayed.

  “That trinket?” Danny continued taunting the priest in a guttural voice. “You think that trinket is going to do anything to me?”

  Danny didn’t thrash in the chair. He didn’t test his bonds. He just sat very still like a powerful animal watching and biding his time, waiting for the perfect time to strike, waiting for everyone’s guard to be down.

  “Your faith must be strong for that trinket to work,” Danny growled and then he chuckled. A plume of mist drifted out of Danny’s mouth as the chilly basement grew even colder.

  Father Hopkins continued praying. He whispered the same prayers over and over again in Latin. He knew his faith had to be strong, and it was. But he could feel doubts trying to creep their way into his mind. He wasn’t sure if he was prepared for what was coming and he hoped his faith wouldn’t falter.

  Father Severino’s faith hadn’t been strong enough—that’s why his flesh had burned when he had touched Danny’s ankle. It was a quick and brutal lesson to all of them. Their faith must be strong because none of them, except for Paul, had seen anything like this before. Of course they were all experienced in the ritual of exorcisms—that’s what this house was for. But they had never seen a perfect possession before. And they had never dealt with a demon this strong before.

  †

  Paul was on his knees in a corner of the basement, praying, preparing himself for the exorcism.

  The basement was vast, the size of the floor plan of the whole downstairs of the house. And this basement was dug down deeper into the earth than most basements—the ceiling was nearly ten feet high. Little slits of windows were set high in the block walls, but all of the windows were blacked out with paint and plastic.

  The center of the basement was a wide open space, the size of a large living room. And that’s where the chair Danny sat on was bolted to the floor. Twenty feet in front of Danny’s chair was a small table. Collected on the table were two burning candles set in fancy candlesticks. Between the two candles were ancient bibles and prayer books, their leather covers cracked with age. There were also bottles of holy water, crucifixes, rosary beads, a small statue of the Virgin Mary and Christ on the cross.

  And next to the table on the floor was Paul’s canvas bag—a mixture of the holy and the pagan. But all of it worked, Paul knew that. And none of it worked. Both at the same time. The faith in God was the key.

  God drove demons out of people—not man.

  The perimeter of the basement was taken up with more storage: boxes, crates, bags, machines, all of this stuff stored here by churches in a hundred mile radius. The edges of the basement lay in shadows, the only light came from light bulbs overhead and the burning candles on the table in front of Danny.

  It was in these shadows that Paul kneeled and prayed and prepared himself.

  He got to his feet, suddenly determined. He needed to be focused, his faith strong. He could not fail tonight. He had to exorcise this demon from his son’s body, and he had to free his son’s soul.

  He felt terrible bringing Danny to this house. He felt terrible tricking him into believing he had been in training, that he was on his first assignment. But Paul needed to resort to tricks to fool the demon that was imbedded inside of Danny. It was a taste of the demon’s own medicine.

  But he still needed Danny’s help with this exorcism. He needed Danny to be strong and fight his way back. He needed Danny to fight for his soul.

  And the only way Danny could do that was if he understood what had happened, that he understood he was perfectly possessed, that many of his memories and visions were lies told to him by the foul spirit that embodied him.

  Perfect possession was very rare. A person who was possessed so deeply could go about their daily lives and seem normal to everyone around them while the demons waited in hiding, waiting for the right time to strike. A perfectly possessed person could touch religious objects. They could take communion. They could speak the Lord’s name.

  All of this is my fault, Paul thought. These demons attacked Danny and killed Lisa and Rachael just to get to me. And now he realized that they’d done it to get to Danny.

  He should have been there for them. He should have protected them.

  Tears slipped from Paul’s eyes and he let them come. He clenched his fists and his body shook with both sadness and rage. He needed to cry. He needed to grieve for Lisa and Rachael. But he couldn’t grieve for Danny yet. Danny wasn’t gone yet and Paul was going to do everything he could to bring his son back.

  The first thing Paul needed to do was push his grief and sadness for Lisa and Rachael away. He needed to push all of the guilt out of his mind because the demon would use that against him. There would be plenty of time for grieving later.

  If there was a later.

  The second thing Paul needed to do was expunge from his mind any doubts. He could not lose this fight for his son. He would die trying if he needed to.

  Paul took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He wiped at his tears with his hands, and his face was set in stone again.

  He looked up to the basement ceiling of exposed floor joists, wiring, plumbing, and duct work.

  “Lord God, Father. Please give me the strength I need to help my son. Please, I beg of You, help me drive this wretched demon out of his body and send it back to Hell where it belongs. Help me end my son’s torment, and free his body, mind, and soul. Help me be strong, the strongest I’ve ever been. Help me to be brave, the bravest I’ve ever been. Help me to be pure, the purist I’ve ever been. God, I ask this of You in the name of Jesus Christ Our Savior.”

  Paul crossed himself slowly.

  “Amen.”

  He walked out of the shadows and into the sphere of light created from the bare light bulbs hanging from the floor joists over Danny’s chair and the two burning candles on the table where Robert, Helen, and the two priests were gathered.

  He was ready to begin.

  CHAP†ER †HIR†Y-SEVEN

  “Is the door locked?” Paul asked as he walked out of the darkness of the basement and into the light.

  “Yes,” Father Hopkins answered. He waited near the table along with Robert, Helen, and Father Severino who cradled his injured right hand in his left. The four of them stood very still, their eyes on Paul as he approached.

  “Ke
ys,” Paul said and held out his hand to Father Hopkins.

  Paul was dressed all in black: black boots, black pants, and a long-sleeved black shirt, and he seemed to have emerged from the shadows themselves. His crucifix of pure silver hung from his neck, gleaming in the light from the candles.

  Father Hopkins, dressed in a long black cossack and white collar, just like Father Severino, hesitated.

  “Keys,” Paul said again.

  “This is not the usual protocol during an exorcism,” Father Hopkins said. “Locking ourselves inside a basement.”

  “This is not a usual exorcism,” Paul answered and glanced at Father Severino and his injured hand. “We all took an oath. We all vowed to fight this evil that has now willingly showed itself to us through Danny. We vowed to fight to the death in the name of God. We vowed never to flee.”

  Father Hopkins sighed and dug the keys out of his pocket. He plopped then down into Paul’s palm while the others stared at him like the hope had drained out of them. Paul closed his fingers around the keys and shoved them down into his pants pocket.

  “We need salt,” Paul said.

  Father Hopkins nodded at Robert who hurried over to the edge of the darkness where three fifty pound bags of salt were stacked up. He carried one of the bags back and laid it down on the floor. He dug a finger into the plastic of the bag and tore it open (none of them were allowed to have knives or any other weapons on them during the exorcism). He picked up the bag, struggling with it a little, and poured a thick and uneven line of salt around Danny’s chair, creating a circle that was fifteen feet in diameter.

  Paul crouched down beside his canvas bag and unzipped it. He found the large container of tiny iron fillings. He unscrewed the cap and poured out the iron fillings in a thinner line right inside the circle of salt.

  Paul prayed the entire time.

  He completed the circle where he had begun—right in front of Danny.