by P. K. Tyler
"Please, this is no time for questions, Delphina," Zeph said in an impossibly even voice. It always surprised Nik how even keel he was with his parishioners. It was like the foul—mouthed boy he’d known had never existed.
Sister Delphina rushed from the room, and Zeph kneeled down to inspect Nik's wounds.
"How bad is it?" He touched Nik with tender fingers and he couldn't help but wince at the contact. His body was raw and his mind fuzzy.
"There's no blood. That's good." Zeph probed one of the wounds with his finger, pressing hard and making Nik gasp in pain. "No puss or ooze either. They're clean. I think you're okay."
"That's fabulous. I’m glad you’re entertained. I'm ready for the curtain then?" Nik lifted his arm enough to look at his injuries. Small circles of dead skin stuck up from his flesh like tiny crowns. He dropped his arm back to the floor with a heavy thud.
Zeph used his fingernail to scrape one off his shoulder.
"Ouch!" Nik cried, his voice brittle. “What the fuck?”
The scab flaked and fell to the floor, leaving the flesh unmarred. "Weird..."
Nik leaned his head back on the couch groaned. "Are you done torturing me now?"
"Pretty much. Except we still don't know where whatever came out of these things went." Zeph, still on one knee beside Nik, rested his arm on his other leg. His countenance grew more foreboding as he watched Nik struggle to pull himself up on the couch.
"I know you don't want to hear this, but we need help. That thing tried to kill you and now it's free. It's going to possess someone else. Soon."
"Then I'll deal with it. Don't worry, it can't get to you here anyway. Consecrated ground and all that. Plus, priests and nuns can't be possessed."
"I think what we just saw proves that the rules have changed. Have you ever heard of a demon doing that? Changing like that?"
Nik shook his head no. “Not even the Old Order, with all their talk of church mercenaries, mentioned anything about shape-shifting demons.”
Zeph stood and started straightening his room. Orderly even in chaos, he returned the furniture and books he'd knocked around in his search. "We need to make a plan."
"You don't need to do shit. I'll handle it, just like I always do."
Zeph stopped and directed his gaze on Nik, his eyes narrowed and angry. "You've always operated on instinct, flying by the seat of your pants. And look where it's gotten you. Calling me in the middle of the night to come rescue you passed out on the street. Whatever that thing is, it's stronger that you're used to. I know you’re not fond of them, but the Old Order is there to help you. "
Nik put his hands at his temples and rubbed small circles, trying to clear his mind. "Can we not do this right now?"
"When should we do it? The next time I have to scrape you off the sidewalk? Or do you just want to wait until you're actually dead?"
Anger flared in his gut. "I don't have to do this at all, you know. It's not like I need this to survive. And if I wasn't hunting demons and exorcising them, maybe I could have an actual life. Fall in love, 2.5 kids and a dog, the whole deal."
Zeph snorted and picked up Nik's glass. "You wouldn't last a week. You live in that house because you want to help those kids. And you may fool the rest of the world with your asshole attitude, but I know you're a good person."
Nik rolled his eyes, which only made his head hurt more. He was sweaty, probably smelled, and his shirt was shredded. He felt naked and vulnerable as he sat on the hard couch looking up at Zeph. He did what he could to brush off his jeans and tried not to pass out.
Zeph continued, "If you don't deal with that thing, no one will."
"I'll deal with it, shit. Stop being such a mother hen."
"You're really willing to let evil run around the city? Evil even you couldn't exorcise? Just to keep from asking for help?"
"Of course not. I just like to pretend I'm not trapped, that I could have a life someday, a choice. But I guess I'm really no better off than you are." Nik leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.
"How's that?" Zeph's spine straightened.
He was treading on dangerous territory even bringing this up. "You know what I mean. Trapped by the church's rules and such."
"I wouldn't call it trapped. I am here and I do what I do, willingly."
"Willingly. Of course."
Zeph scowled and disappeared behind the door to his rooms.
Nik's heart tightened. Why had he said that? The topic had been off limits since they reconnected three years ago and for a pretty damn good reason. Every time Nik tried to talk about Zeph's commitment to a church that would never accept who he was inside, all he managed to do was push him further away.
Nik ran his hands through his long, unruly hair. He wondered what it would be like to do anything willingly. Zeph might like to act like he was a servant of God, but he was as trapped by the rules of the world as everyone else. There was no free will, there was no choice. People weren't essentially good, and no one really gave a shit about what happened to their fellow man. If they did, how did people ignore the horrible things happening right in front of them?
Nik knew the truth. Humans were no better than animals. Mankind hadn't been chosen to be God's people. They were all just chattel. . Another game some invisible force played for his own sadistic pleasure. He knew the pain he felt when he tried to ignore a possession. He knew one person's definition of sin could fuck up your whole life, leave you alone and living on the street. Choice had very little to do with it.
Nik knew what it was like to be hated and that same hate dwelled deep inside him. It was his real weapon. He knew what sin tasted like and it didn't repulse him. He'd never told Zeph or anyone else, but the dark truth was sin attracted him. In every person he passed, he could sense the seed of evil placed within their souls, just waiting for the right time to root.
"Here." Zeph threw a black t-shirt at him and closed the door to his private rooms. "That should fit your skinny ass."
"Language Father! How do you ever expect to make Pope if you talk like that."
"Very funny."
"Look, Nik..." Zeph perched on the sofa next to him, his knee within reach.
Nik didn't dare touch. He didn't reach out. He wouldn’t ask for more than a well-worn t-shirt that smelled like incense and powder.
"I know you don't believe like I do, and I know you think I'm weak or pathetic for choosing this, but it's who I am and I have reasons for believing this is what I need to do. For me, for the world, even for you. And what you can do is fundamentally who you are, it's more than just some thing you do. It's important. There are stories..."
Zeph's eyes lit with the fervency of his faith. He jumped up and grabbed a book off his shelf, and then another, and another. When he dropped them on the low table next to the couch, dust filled the air.
"There are rites, old ways that have been forgotten or hidden or eradicated. There were, and are, people who believed in what you do and why it needs to be done."
"I know, Zeph. I’ve heard them. Studied them with Father Lasado. They read like fiction, tales of adventure. Like the Bible but without the moral of the story crammed in." Nik crossed his arms over his chest, the black shirt hanging off his bony shoulders.
Zeph's face pinched tightly at Nik's sarcasm. A frown pulled his mouth down so he resembled his father in a way Nik had never noticed before. "Just shut up, I'll get you some sheets."
"Why?"
"Because you're at least two-thirds dead. You're sleeping here tonight."
Nik's breath caught in his throat and he nodded.
Chapter Two
Zeph sat on the edge of his small bed in soft black cotton sleeping pants. He stared into the cold mug of tea sitting on his bedside table, his shoulders and heart both heavy. Everything that happened that night shook him. Nik had been so close to death. He'd seen him bruised and battered before, but this was completely different.
Zeph set down his tea and settled back on his mattress.
He slipped under the covers and switched off the bedside lamp. The darkness didn't quiet his mind the way he'd hoped it would. Instead it led him back to thoughts of Nik and the feel of his hand on his thigh and that his best friend. Nik, the only person he'd ever loved, slept on the other side of his door. His cock longed to be stroked, to feel the rough grip of Nik's palm against it, He rolled out of bed to the hard floor and set himself to push ups instead. A hundred. A hundred and fifty.
Finally, when he was so tired he couldn't continue, his body no longer interested in anything but sleep, he climbed back into bed. His muscles burned, but sleep continued to elude him. Each position he tried irritated him, the pillow too soft on one side, too hard on the other.
As he lay in bed, he remembered being fifteen. He remembered the weeks of being locked in his room, fed only once a day, his body bloody and bruised and broken. And he remembered how nothing but the memory of Nik's lips against his own had gotten him through it. It'd been almost ten years since that kiss. Zeph wasn't even sure he remembered it right anymore. Had it truly tasted of sunlight? Had his bliss been only teenage hormones or something truer?
His exhaustion turned to melancholic self-pity. "Father in Heaven, help me know what I'm supposed to do. Help me find peace in my heart. I cannot silence the ache in my soul. I surrender all that I am to your Holy Name and sacrifice everything I have to your mission. Help me find the strength to stay true to the path you've directed me on, to continue to serve your Holy Light. Praised be the Lord. Amen."
Zeph rolled onto his back and stretched. When he was a boy, he hadn't been strong enough to do anything about what his father did to him. When Father Tobias rescued him from his father's home, Zeph devoted himself to strengthening his body as well as his mind and his soul. He never wanted to be helpless again. He wanted to be strong, like Nik.
Tears slid down from the corners of his eyes and he wished he had someone to talk to, someone who could understand. Since Father Tobias died, there was no one. No one to confess his most egregious sins to. No one to help him stay on the path of love and light. Instead, all he had was a worn smooth rosary and a long string of nights alone. Always alone.
Even the nuns had each other, their sisterly love bonded through their vow to God. He'd watch them together, touching in comfort, praying, laughing. But he couldn't join them, his mere presence ruined their sisterhood. Nik was all he had now, and Nik was what he had to defend himself against the most. Damn him for always trying to wear him down and break through what he couldn't and wouldn't talk about. Damn him for always being there.
He knew he'd never survive if Nik left him.
His father had always been a faithful Catholic, taking them to Mass every Sunday and Bible Study every Thursday night. They attended every event, every bake sale, every extra little bit of God they could cram into their lives.
Zeph loved it, he'd been an altar boy, helping the priest with his vestments and preparing the tools of service. He liked nothing better than being alone in the rooms behind the altar where they stored the gilded candlesticks and holy objects. Just the smell of entering the church brought him peace. He'd never seen a difference between himself and everyone else, it never occurred to him that the God he loved so completely could turn away from him.
The summer he and Nik got caught together, everything changed for Zeph. It only took a few weeks, but it had felt like an eternity at the time. That summer, he'd learned not only about love but about God's wrath.
"Get. Out," his father ordered when they arrived back at their home after dropping Nik off.
The voice still rang in his ears. Those words marked the transition of his father's role from parent to dictator.
His father pushed him into the house and straight up to his room.
Zeph figured he'd get a lecture about sin and bodies and all the shit he'd been ignoring from his parents for years.
"Sit down," His father said, coming in and closing the door behind him. "I want you to understand something clearly, so stay quiet until I'm finished. There is no room for misunderstanding on this and absolutely no argument that's going to make a difference to me. You will not behave this way again."
"Dad, I..."
"What did I just say?"
The slap knocked Zeph back onto his bed. The shock of it stung worse than the pain. Tears welled in his eyes. His father was supposed to love him.
Before Zeph sat back up, his father began again. "You will not behave this way again. You will not see, speak to, or ever mention that boy. If I could make it happen, you'd never think about him again either. Do you understand me?"
"I love him," Zeph whispered before the next blow was delivered.
"There is a demon within you, a demon of homosexuality that is distorting your mind and poisoning your heart. You can't love another man."
"I can't help it."
"You may not like it, Zeph, but I'm going to save you."
That night was the first time Zeph was beaten. He was only fifteen.
"You need to be delivered from homosexuality," his father said calmly, pulling his thick, leather belt, from his waist. "There's sin within you, and until you renounce its hold on you, that sin will always be there, rotting away the heart of this family.
He grabbed Zeph's thin shoulders and pulled him to standing. Then he turned him around and kicked the back of his knees so Zeph fell to the ground. "Pray," his father ordered.
"I don't know what to pray for?"
The belt came down hard across his back.
"Pray."
"Our father, who art in Heaven..." Zeph recited.
Adel stood in the door, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm sorry Zeph!" She sobbed.
"Stop crying." Their father whipped around, the belt hanging from his hand. "Your brother has the spirit of a devil inside him. We love him enough to help him purge his soul. Stand there and watch so you know what it means to love someone enough to do anything to save them."
Zeph struggled to stand. He wanted to tell Adel this wasn't her fault. He wanted to cry out for his mother to save him. But before he could, his father shoved him back on the ground.
"Keep praying."
He cried while calling out a prayer to a God he begged to save him countless times before the beating ended.
After the final blow, his tattered shirt rested on his abused flesh, his father asked, "Are you gay?"
Zeph, exhausted and broken, turned his head and stared his father in the eyes and said, "I love him."
"Tomorrow we will cleanse that demon out of you for good." He left Zeph's room, softly shutting the door. He came back minutes later to remove the door knob and replace it with the lock facing out. Zeph became a prisoner in his own room.
In the morning, Zeph watched the sun come up the same way he'd watched it set the night before, on his knees in front of the window. He'd stayed up all night, waiting. He hadn't been sure what to expect, other than some kind of sign from God. Maybe his mother sneaking in to soothe the wounds his father had inflicted on him. Deep down, he hoped Nik would appear in his window, with his toothy smile and long hair. Nik would save him. He wouldn't think it even to himself, but in his heart, the belief that the boy he loved cared about him even half as much as he did got him through the night.
But no one ever arrived. No loving touch from his mom and no escape in the arms of Nik. Instead, he kneeled and he prayed.
In the morning, his father unlocked the door and grabbed him by the arm. Without a word he dragged Zeph to the bathroom and shoved him an ice-cold shower, still clothed.
"Take off your clothes and wash away your sin."
Zeph shook as he removed his shirt then paused with his hands on the buttons of his jeans.
"You got nothing I haven't seen before."
"Could I have privacy?"
"You've lost the right to privacy. I can't trust the demon within you not to abuse your body with those homo thoughts."
Zeph dropped his head and pulled off his pants. The
water in the shower bit into his flesh like needles and his skin tightened trying to escape the assault. Standing in the door behind his father, Zeph saw his sister watching, tears in her eyes.
"Adel, I didn't..."
His father slammed his body against the freezing tile wall. "Don't talk to her, you evil thing!"
The world went black for a moment, his head throbbed and the tears he'd been biting back broke through. Naked and terrified, Zeph couldn't understand how this had happened. Yesterday he'd been holding hands with the boy he loved. Yesterday he'd laughed with his father watching Adel try to catch fish with her bare hands. Today, he was in Hell.
"We'll wash you clean, Zeph. We'll give you a saintly vessel so clean the demon within you will have no use for you anymore." He unwrapped a new toilet brush and picked up a bottle of bleach.
Zeph sputtered and screamed as his father threw bleach over his body, getting it in his open wounds and eyes. He collapsed to the floor of the shower, trying to escape the burning acrid smell. It didn't help.
His father climbed in after him, scrubbing at his skin with the brush. "I drive you from this boy, whoever you may be, unclean spirit. I drive out this demon of homosexuality. I bless this holy body making it no longer suitable host for your abomination. These sinful cravings will be cast out!"
The bristles of the brush scraped at Zeph's skin. The abrasions allowed the bleach and freezing water to seep into his flesh until he thought it had permeated into his very soul. He cried and pleaded for his father to stop until his voice was as raw as his body. The skin on his back and arms was red and sore.
His father flipped him over, so he lay on his back in the tub, sobbing and naked. "It's for your own good. I won't let the devil take your soul. You're my son, and I love you." His father scrubbed the rest of him clean, pouring an extra helping of bleach on his genitals to cleanse away the evil of his actions.
By the time his father turned off the shower, Zeph shook in violent spasms. His teeth chattered and he moaned with each movement. His father's touch eased as he helped him stand and wrapped a soft towel around his shoulders.