Sal lay unmoving on the board, the straps still restraining her. There was blood and vomit on her shirt, on her face. The four men in Team Two had closed their little red books and stopped chanting. Balloon and Stretch still loomed over her with gloves and crop.
“Pray,” Balloon barked at them. “George. Sandro. Marcus. David. Pray.”
The guards at the perimeter shifted from foot to foot. Stretch raised the crop again.
“Stop,” Sandro said. “The exorcism is not working.”
“Not working!” Balloon said. “Look at her. We are nearing the end. We have calmed her.”
“I am looking at her,” Sandro said. “I think you killed her.”
“Is she still breathing?” Marcus said.
Stretch did not check. “Of course she is.”
“I’m not so sure,” David said.
George gave Balloon a long, hard look, as though he were putting together a longer story. “You seem pretty calm for someone who may have just ended another person’s life,” he finally said.
Balloon turned to George. “What exactly are you implying?”
“That you have a contingency plan for this. That there’s a reason you control a monastery with several acres of unused land.”
“George,” said Stretch, patting his crop. “You’re newer to the team, and this is your first exorcism, so I’m going to allow that your line of questioning is the result of shock brought about by what I understand can be a frightening experience.”
“I don’t know about that,” said George. “It looks to me more like you’ve overstepped your authority. This isn’t how Team Two works.”
“Exorcisms are well within our jurisdiction,” Balloon said.
“Yes. The kind where priests gather around a victim of possession—without touching her—and help her to get the demon out, through prayer, kindness, and support. Not this.”
“The straps are for her own safety,” Stretch said.
“And the crop?” George said. “And those gloves, the magic ones? Are those for her own safety, too?”
Balloon narrowed his eyes. “It’s very brave of you to talk this way after the work has been done. I didn’t hear your objections while it was happening.”
“I regret that now,” George said.
“Regretting your actions doesn’t make you less complicit,” Stretch said.
“So,” Sandro said, “you’re saying that we may actually have killed her?”
“Sometimes,” Balloon said, “when you separate the demon from its host, the demon takes too much with it for the host to come back.”
“How many people have you killed out here?” George said.
“That isn’t a question you have the authority to ask me, and as such, it’s one I don’t need to answer,” Balloon said.
“That is not at all reassuring.”
“It isn’t my job to reassure you,” Balloon said. “It’s my job to do the will of God, to help protect the world he created from being taken over by the creatures he cast out of Heaven. It is not clean work, but it is holy. If I would reassure you of anything, it is that regardless of what I have done that looks ugly through earthly eyes, I sleep soundly at night, knowing that I will surely look upon the face of my Savior when I die. Can you say the same?”
“I think,” said George, “that maybe you have been doing this job for far too long.”
Balloon looked at Stretch. “How did a man of such little faith come to be on our team?”
“I don’t know,” said Stretch, “but he won’t be for much longer.”
“You’re damn right I won’t,” said George. He moved to undo the straps.
“Don’t touch her!” Stretch said.
“I’m not,” George said. “I’m letting her go. If she’s even still alive.”
He loosened a strap. Balloon stepped forward to intervene. Sandro intercepted him and held him back.
“Take your hands off me!” Balloon said.
Stretch took a few steps in their direction, raised his arm, and sent the crop across Sandro’s back. Sandro let out a short cry, but didn’t let Balloon go. Now, from the other side of the slab, Marcus and David undid the straps around Sal and pulled them off. Sal still didn’t move. Marcus shook her. Nothing. George just took a step back. Balloon stopped struggling and Sandro dropped to his knees to vomit from the pain.
“She’s dead,” David said. “She’s really dead.”
The guards at the perimeter were craning their necks, trying to see.
“What’s happened?” one of them shouted.
“Pray for her,” Balloon said. “Like I asked you to. Pray for her soul.”
• • •
“Probably better if you pray for your own,” Liam said, stepping into the courtyard. His face fell as he saw Sal, heavy and motionless. Grace was only a couple steps behind him.
“Is that Sal?” Grace said.
“I’m afraid so,” Liam said.
Their fists tightened simultaneously, like they did when they used to spar.
“You want to intimidate us?” Balloon said. “You’re just criminals, I hope you understand. We’ll turn you over to the police as terrorists.”
Menchú stepped up behind Liam and Grace.
“Guards,” Balloon continued, “these three have wrought havoc upon the Vatican and the Society. They have destroyed property and caused loss of life. Perhaps most egregiously, they allowed one of their own to be possessed by an unholy spirit for so long that, it appears, we were unable to separate the demon from the host without her death. In the meantime, who knows how many of our secrets the demon learned? Centuries of work undone in weeks. Round them up so they may accept whatever judgment the earthly and heavenly powers see fit to render.”
The guards began to move.
“Liam, Grace,” Menchú said. “Get it done.”
If Liam and Grace exchanged a glance, it was too short to see. They split up. For the guards, the experience of fighting Grace was like being victims in a cruel magic show. The spot where Grace had been, where they had trained the barrels of their guns, was empty. Then their weapons were out of their hands, flying through the air, clattering to the ground. One guard was leveled as though he’d been hit with a cannonball. Another spun around five times where he stood and fell. Yet another was swept off his feet; for a moment his toes were higher than his head. He hit the dirt hard and didn’t get back up. In the second and a half the remaining guards had to react, they dropped their guns and started running. The guns didn’t connect with the ground before they did.
By that time, Liam had reached the center of the courtyard. The four members of Team Two who’d held their red books and chanted, protesting only too late, dropped to their knees in surrender. Balloon and Stretch did not.
Balloon flexed his fingers inside his gloves. Stretch raised the crop, ready to use it. But Liam was angry, and Liam was faster. Before Stretch could swing the crop around, Liam had buried his fist in Stretch’s cheek. Stretch’s head snapped back. He pulled it forward again and spat out a tooth. His arm swung around to flail at Liam, but Liam caught it at the wrist and held it there for a second, then twisted it behind Stretch’s back. Stretch cried out and dropped the crop.
“Not as easy when your victim can move, is it?” Liam said. He couldn’t do anything about Balloon, who was coming up behind him, hands extended, still wearing the gloves. Balloon had his fingers close enough to touch Liam’s neck when he was pulled back. He staggered and fell. Grace stood over him. She put her foot on the side of his face, pressing his head into the ground.
“Touch me with those gloves,” she hissed, “or any part of you, and I stomp.”
“Let me up,” Balloon said.
“Promise to behave?” Grace said.
“You bitch,” Balloon said.
Grace smiled. “Showing your true colors. Always knew you had it in you. Promise to behave?”
“Yes,” Balloon said.
Grace took her foot off his f
ace. All around them the guards were moaning. The four acolytes of Team Two were still on their knees, silent. Balloon and Stretch just stood there, like children who had broken something. Which was when Menchú approached Sal.
He laid his hand on her forehead, like a father testing for a fever. Said her name over and over again. And she moved. First just her eyeballs twitched under her closed lids. Then she began to shift, waking up. She opened her eyes.
• • •
“Menchú,” Sal said.
“Are you all here?” Menchú asked.
“Yes.” She sat up, wincing. “Both of us.” She looked at Balloon and Stretch. “All this was for nothing. You’re frauds.”
“The demon remains inside you?” Balloon said.
“Yes,” Sal said.
She felt the rustling in her head turn into a rush, a glimmer of ecstasy, of losing herself like she had in the Archives, and started to panic. The Hand was still weak, but so was she. She pushed back, but couldn’t keep the Hand all the way down.
Here I come, the Hand said to her.
She got to her feet. The Hand propped her up. It was hard to tell whose decision that had been.
“Careful,” Menchú said. “You’re hurt.”
“Get away from me,” Sal said. “For God’s sake, get away.”
Inside her skull, she heard the Hand laughing.
“Sal?” Liam said. His voice was streaked with worry, even alarm.
Those gloves, the Hand said. I can do things with them.
I won’t let you, Sal said. She pushed against it, harder.
You don’t have to let me do anything, the Hand said.
She felt a sudden shift in her head. If they’d been wrestling, it would have been a flip and a half pin.
She was made to take two steps toward Balloon. Strength and power surged through her. She was filled with a fire that purified and cleansed, but could not hurt her. She reached out to Balloon.
No, Sal said. I won’t let you do this.
“Sal—” Menchú said.
Sal watched herself take Balloon’s hands in her hands. Felt, against her will, a rising pleasure in the confused, then stricken look on his face when he realized that the gloves weren’t hurting her, that she was drawing their power into herself.
“You know,” the Hand said, “Sal’s had nicknames for you two since she first saw you. Stretch”—she nodded toward him—“and Balloon.”
Before either of them could respond, the Hand put one of Balloon’s hands in Sal’s mouth and blew. Balloon inflated. First his hand, under the glove, splitting the fabric. Then his forearm bulged. His elbow burst out of its sleeve, kept expanding. His biceps disappeared into his side. Balloon started to scream as his chest stretched outward, ripping his shirt, the skin shining under the strain. Then the air moved up his neck and cut his screams off.
Sal felt both herself and the Hand flow into him, felt the Hand growing to fill the space. Felt Balloon’s bones creak and pop. The Hand was going to kill him. Sal knew it, could see how it would go. For a few more seconds, Balloon’s head and thighs inflated at the same time and he began to float into the air. His head became nearly spherical, his ears like little knots on either side, the shocked, silent expression on his face looking almost drawn on.
Time to pop this balloon, the Hand said. Sal felt them both flowing into Balloon’s head. In a second, the top of Balloon’s head would tear open from the pressure and everything would come out at once with a sound like a wet cough. It would be so—funny.
That wasn’t her. That was the Hand. And as much as she hated Balloon, she wasn’t going to let him die. Wasn’t going to give the Hand the satisfaction of using her to kill him.
She pushed—for herself, for Balloon, for everyone on Team Three. For Perry. For the past few months and everything she’d had to go through. She pushed.
Balloon was still floating in the air. He gasped.
Why save this horrible man? the Hand said.
Because you don’t get to decide when he dies, Sal said. Got it?
The Hand hung on. She pushed again.
You’ll regret sparing him, the Hand said.
l can live with that, Sal said. More than I can live with you.
One more push, and Sal and the Hand were flowing back out of Balloon, out of his head, his chest, his thighs, his arms, his hand, his fingers. Balloon fell to the ground and screamed. He was a different shape, a jumble of a man. But he was alive.
Grace and Liam stood in place with their mouths open. Sandro gagged. The guards who had regained consciousness looked stunned.
“You see,” Stretch said. “This is why we need exorcism.” He found his full voice. “You will be called to account, and repent for your sins. Do you understand? There are times to follow protocols. To go through the proper procedures. To have hearings. To render judgments. And then there are times to use your authority to make judgments yourself.”
He called to the guards. “Shoot them.”
The guards looked at Team Three, and at Stretch.
“There is a demon within her, and the others are in league with her!” Stretch yelled. “Do you need more proof?”
None of the guards said anything. One of them lowered his weapon.
“You will all be called to account for your insubordination.”
“Good,” George said. “I’m out.”
“Me, too,” said Sandro.
The other guards lowered their weapons.
“You ask too much,” Marcus said.
Balloon writhed on the ground. “Exert your authority,” he said to Stretch. Stretch walked over to one of the guards. It was clear what he was about to do, or try.
“Run,” Grace said to Liam and Menchú.
They ran, sweeping Sal up, out of the courtyard, back down the stairs through the dark monastery, to the car. Grace had the engine started. Liam was last in. He closed the door and shot a glance toward the monastery.
“Are those gunshots I hear?” he said.
“Who knows?” Grace said. “Let’s go.”
Episode 15: Things Lost
by Margaret Dunlap
1.
Asanti rejoined the rest of the team that night. They met her at a deserted bus stop outside Rome, really nothing more than a patch of dirt on the side of the unlit country road, marked by a wooden post that might have once held a sign but now relied on regional memory to carry its message. Grace had taken over at the wheel, driving a circuitous route to be sure that none of Balloon and Stretch’s people were following them, while Menchú gradually guided them toward their destination. Asanti squeezed into the back with Sal and Liam, and Sal could feel her relief to see them all alive and whole. Sal wished she could share the feeling.
“Were you followed?” Menchú asked from the front seat.
Asanti shook her head. “No sign of anyone. And on a road this empty, I would have noticed.”
“After what happened in the monastery, Balloon and Stretch will be licking their wounds for a bit,” said Liam.
“Not for long,” said Menchú. He turned to Grace. “We should get moving.” Grace nodded, already putting the car in gear.
“What happened at the monastery?” asked Asanti.
“Long, painful story,” said Sal.
“What happened in Rome?” asked Menchú.
Asanti sighed. “I went back to Cardinal Varano, who remains as dedicated as ever to saving himself paperwork. However, I think I was able to convince him that Balloon and Stretch are going to end up causing him even more paperwork than Sal’s possession. Unfortunately, he won’t make a move to help us until we have our own house in order.”
“Which means getting rid of the monster in my head,” said Sal. She was recovering faster from their ordeal than the Hand was, but she could feel it gathering its strength, waiting until it was ready to make its move.
“Yes,” said Asanti. “But if we can do that, Sal’s testimony should convince Varano to shut down Balloon and Stretch
once and for all.”
“That’s a big if,” said Liam.
“About that,” said Asanti. “We need tools to force the Hand back to its home dimension. I tried to go back to the Archives after my meeting with the Cardinal, to retrieve the Book of the Hand, but our entire wing is under lockdown. The new guards were keeping me out of the Archives. Me. I don’t know who they report to, Arturo, but it wasn’t anyone friendly to us. I was looking for Sansone when I got your ‘not safe, leave now’ message. Three buses later . . . Well, here we are.”
The group fell into silence, broken only by the thrum and rattle of the tires against the poorly maintained rural road. Sal looked out the window, but all she could see was black land spread beneath endless blue-black sky. The car’s headlights sliced the road ahead of them, a tiny bubble that seemed wholly inadequate to keep the pressing dark at bay.
• • •
Their destination proved to be a beautiful stone villa situated on five rural acres outside of Rome. The building was more than three hundred years old, set back from the main road behind a low wall more decorative than functional. Behind the main house a fig tree shaded a flagstone patio, and grapes grew over a wooden pergola. Beyond, a small guest house stood between an ancient olive grove and a lake.
The guest house had been originally built as a pump house, then expanded to store olive oil. Now, the only signs of its former purposes were wooden casks repurposed as end tables and the old well cover located under a throw rug in the center of the larger bedroom. Asanti, Grace, Liam, and Sal waited as Menchú rolled aside the rug and lifted the heavy well cover, revealing the inky blackness of the stone shaft below.
Sal swallowed and asked, “What’s down there?”
“Somewhere we can rest.”
In the last twenty-four hours Sal had suffered an exorcism, died, then come back to life after a harrowing trip through a demon dimension. The prospect of stopping in safety, even for a little while, was too much to refuse.
• • •
Once the well cover was back in place, the blackness inside the shaft was complete. Asanti, clinging to the ladder between Grace below and Sal above, felt a bit of mortar crumble away from the wall and silently counted until she heard a quiet splash. It was a very long way down.
Bookburners: Season One Volume Two Page 22