by Jana Oliver
“Can’t use the spheres,” she reminded him.
“But I can if we need them. Or you can, and we just don’t tell anyone.”
“That would be cheating,” she said.
“Yes, it would,” he said, winking.
“You know, I like the new you.”
“So do I. The old Simon was a stuck-up jerk.”
She blinked at his candor. “You said it, not me.”
“My family agrees. I could be a real self-righteous ass.” He looked at the house now. “First rule for exorcists: Know thine own self. The demons will tear you apart if you don’t.”
The final item that came out of the trunk was a plain metal box, about ten inches square. The lid had clamps on the outside and was engraved with crosses and Latin phrases.
“If we can get the demon free of the building, it’ll go corporeal and we need to trap it in this container,” Simon explained.
“A bit fancier than the bait boxes we use for the Fours.”
“The Vatican has more cash than trappers.”
“Way more. Why do I think this isn’t going to be easy?”
“Because it never is,” he replied. “Just be ready for anything.”
Riley followed behind him, carrying the trapping bag and the weird metal box, her heart pounding. When she trapped, she knew what to expect. This was totally new and totally scary.
“How many times does an exorcism go bad?”
“Ah, about two or three times in ten,” he said matter-of-factly.
Which was actually about the same odds as trapping a Three or a Five. That, she could handle.
They stepped inside the house.
“It’s really quiet. Sometimes they’re like that, hoping I’ll go away. Other times they rain hell on me the moment I get inside the door.”
“Which is worse?” she asked.
“The quiet ones. They’ve usually got more power and they know it.”
“Oh goodie.”
Riley felt that cold wave roll through her again. Her gaze instinctively rose to the ceiling. “It’s upstairs.”
“I knew you’d be good at this. How can you tell?”
“Ori taught me some things.” So did Ayden.
He studied her. “Ironic, isn’t it? One of Lucifer’s angels helping us trap one of their own.”
Something like that.
Simon set off toward the stairway without hesitation, Riley following right behind. Once they were upstairs, the cold seemed concentrated at the end of the hall. He led the way, murmuring what sounded like a prayer.
He paused at the door, then, after a quick look at her, stepped inside. The instant Riley crossed into the room, the temperature plunged at least twenty degrees. Her mind screamed for her to flee, a primal reaction to a predator.
Blackthornes don’t run. But that didn’t keep her from being scared.
The room was painted a light green and had a dark hardwood floor and a bank of mullioned windows that overlooked the backyard. Empty white bookshelves lined the walls, and a stacked-stone fireplace sat at one end.
A library. “I can see why the new owners don’t want to lose this place.”
Simon nodded. “It’s telling that the Hellspawn has set up residence in this room. Fiends hate knowledge.”
“Fiends hate everything.”
Her companion paused, then picked a spot and set his suitcase on the floor. From it, he extracted two bottles of Holy Water, not the papal version, but the kind Riley usually bought, along with the cross, and the aspergillum. He handed the bottles to her.
“Make a consecrated circle around us, about ten feet in diameter, but leave one spot open for now in case the fiend comes at us before we finish all our preparations.”
As Riley did the scut work, he laid out his supplies, including various spheres. Once the circle was complete, she walked it, checking that there were no gaps except the one he’d requested.
“Now what?”
“We seal the exits.”
Following his direction, they applied Holy Water to each potential escape route, including the fireplace and the windows. Even the heating duct and cold-air return. Simon was nothing if not thorough.
Meanwhile, there’d been not one bit of noise.
Maybe it’s taken off. And maybe tomorrow its master would just wave a white flag, admit he was wrong, and give up the fight against Heaven. Not happening.
“Okay, close the circle,” he said.
She laid the last bit of Holy Water in place and stepped back. Simon recited the Lord’s Prayer in Latin, just like he had the night they sat vigil for her father, except this time there were no candles denoting the circle. To her surprise, the Holy Water glowed white like it was lit from within.
He looked over at her. “You ready?”
Riley nodded in response, not allowing her knees to knock. She was a trapper. This was just another job. She squared her shoulders and murmured a quiet prayer that she’d be alive tonight to tell Beck the exorcism had been no big deal.
Her companion took a deep breath.
“Demon! I am Simon Michael David Adler. I am a child of God, seeker of the Light, believer in the Risen Lord.”
The power of his words sent shivers down her spine. This was still Simon, but not the boy she remembered. Not at all.
“You are trespassing here, foul fiend. Leave now, or perish!”
The stone fireplace began to bleed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A loud buzzing came, like a swarm of irritated bees dumped out of a hive. It seemed to come out of the walls, the ceiling, the floor. The Holy Water flared brighter in response to the threat.
“I know of you, Simon the Betrayer,” a voice said, oily and deep, raising goose bumps on Riley’s skin. “Your heart is not as pure as you claim.” Each word was elongated, full of cunning.
“You are an abomination unto the Lord and shall be driven from this place,” Simon replied.
“Why do you care? This is not your dwelling. Do you think to remove the stink of your rotten soul by fair deeds? If so, you will fail. Your soul will be ours soon enough.”
“God is my shield and sword. The Enemy will have no power over me and those who stand by me this day.”
The blood rolling down the fireplace dried and cracked. A fire burst forth in the hearth now, and inside it Riley saw Hell. The flickering souls that lighted purgatory’s walls, the moans and cries of the damned. The stench of demons and brimstone. In that instant, she was once again standing in front of the Prince, hundreds of demons behind her, all calling for her blood.
Lucifer sat on his throne, clad in armor, his sword lying across his knees. His voice boomed throughout the chamber. “Seek my enemies and destroy them. Side with them and your punishment will be eternal. This is your last warning. Now begone!”
Shocked, Simon asked, “Is that—?”
“Hell? Yes. Or at least how I saw it. It’s different for everyone.”
“That will be your eternal home,” the demon continued. “Your pretty words do not frighten me, Simon the Betrayer. I rule in this place. This is my domain.”
Riley’s mouth took off before she could stop herself. “Really? An empty library? That’s your domain? Boy, you must really suck at being a demon if that’s the best you can do.”
Oops.
Curiously, Simon did not shush her like she’d expected. Instead he nodded his approval, indicating that he wanted her to get in the fiend’s face. That, she could do easily.
Riley obligingly ramped up her attitude.
“Hey, demon!” she said, taking a step forward, mindful of the circle of Holy Water that protected them. “You know what Lucifer told me about you guys? You remember him? The Dark Prince who holds your leash? He hates all of you; he’d kill every one of you if he could, just b
ecause you’re so stupid.”
The fiend began hissing again.
“You know, he’s right. Look at you! Living in someone else’s empty house like a squatter. I bet a Klepto-Fiend has more brains than you.”
A roar of anger pushed her back.
“Blackthorne’s daughter! Foul child! Killer of the higher fiends!”
“Yup, that would be me. So what are you going to do about that, little boy?”
The instant the challenge was issued, the demon materialized in the wall, a creature no more than two feet tall. It was a Mezmer, a Grade Four Hellspawn, but different than the ones she’d trapped before. Its claws were much longer and its eyes reflected Hellfire like those of the bigger fiends. It demonstrated the power of those claws by swiping them against the expensive wood paneling, ripping it into thick splinters, which hurtled through the air toward them. Riley instinctively ducked as the spears slammed against the protective circle and bounced away.
Simon did not duck, and his voice grew stronger as he swung the aspergillum in the air, releasing the Holy Water. “The power of God is eternal. None shall stand against His mighty will. You are Lucifer’s spawn and an abomination to all things. I cast you down and into bondage, in His holy name!”
Fire roared out of the hearth like a tornado, swirling around them with claws and teeth made of flames. The floor underneath them shook as if there were an earthquake, and the bank of windows shattered, sending shards of glass throughout the room. The circle bloomed around them, shielding them from the debris.
Petrified, Riley held herself still, knowing that to break the holy barrier was to die.
“Lord, purge this pitiful Hellspawn from this place, wash this house clean of the fiend’s stench,” Simon intoned. “Break the Enemy’s spirit and cast him down in your unbreakable prison.”
He switched to Latin now, reciting phrase after phrase that rolled off his tongue with no hesitation, as if they were sacred weapons. Riley could understand most of it, but it was the demon’s reaction that most fascinated her.
Once powerful, the fiend cowered under the power of the ancient words. Twisting in agony, it gave a final tormented shout that shook the foundation of the house.
Then it vanished.
Riley jumped in surprise as the metal box rattled at her feet.
“Holy crap,” she murmured, stunned. Simon had managed to imprison the thing inside the circle. She had no idea what kind of power that required, but she knew it was major.
“All glory be to God,” Simon said, “for he is Master of all who dwell in Heaven, on Earth, and in Hell. In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti,” he said, crossing himself.
“Amen,” she added, and meant it.
The box continued to vibrate, muted howls coming from within.
Simon didn’t reply, but remained silent for another minute or two, as if slowly disengaging himself from the fight. Riley took that opportunity to look up toward the ceiling and give a heartfelt nod of thanks. That had been far too scary.
Finally he turned toward her and smiled. “Congratulations. You’ve just exorcised your first demon.”
“Ah, no, I just watched. You did all the heavy lifting.”
“One of the most difficult things is to get the demon to lose control. You have a natural talent for it.”
“Pissing off Hellspawn?” she said, smiling as well. “Yeah, that’s my thing all right. Works on Guild officers and everyone else, too.”
“Just so you know, this wasn’t one of the really bad ones.”
She looked over at the open space where the windows used to be, at the piles of glass and debris on the floor. A cold breeze blew into the room, ruffling her hair. “Really?”
“No, not at all. This one was a minor annoyance.”
“If you say so.” Hope the homeowners have good insurance.
The time felt right, so she dug in her pack and offered Simon a symbol of his tortured past. He stared at the charred wooden cross, the one he’d worn the night the Tabernacle was destroyed. The night he’d nearly died.
“You still kept it all these months,” he said softly.
“You asked me to. If you’re not ready for it yet, I’ll hold onto it until you are.”
“You didn’t wash it.”
The charring rubbed off on her fingers. “No. It seemed right somehow, you know?”
He nodded and took the holy object from her. “Like my faith. Charred, but not destroyed.” He kissed the cross and tucked it away in his suitcase. When his eyes met hers, they were misty. “You are a blessing, you know that?”
“So are you, Simon Michael David Adler.”
The box at her feet bumped again. She stared down at it. “Jack’s gonna love this thing.”
Simon didn’t answer, but broke the holy circle, collected his various articles of faith, and repacked them. He trod carefully across the broken glass toward the door.
“We are going to Jack with this, aren’t we?” she asked.
He looked back over his shoulder at her. “No. The Vatican isn’t like the trappers.”
“Which means?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
*~*~*
The monastery was an hour south of the city, nestled in a quiet country setting with pines and gardens and walkways. Riley hadn’t even known it was here. She made a mental note to come back in the late spring, maybe pack a picnic lunch and have some quiet time with Beck.
Simon pulled up to the main building and asked her to remain in the car until he introduced himself and produced the necessary paperwork. While she waited, the metal box at her feet kept quivering. She could hear the demon’s voice in her mind, and it was loud enough to give her a headache. Clearly, the ones that possessed houses and people were much stronger than the fiends she usually trapped.
She’d sent Beck a text earlier, letting him know all had gone well. He only now responded.
TELL ME ALL ABOUT IT TONIGHT. GOT STEAK FOR SUPPER.
She grinned. Her guy was definitely a carnivore.
Simon returned with a young monk at his side who was clad in blue jeans and a black T-shirt. To Riley’s surprise, he hopped into the backseat. He was tanned and looked like he worked outdoors.
“Hi, I’m Friar Michael,” he said.
“Hi. I’m Riley,” she replied. “This is my first time here. It’s very pretty.”
“It is. We seek God’s beauty in all ways.”
Clearly they were doing it right.
Simon slid into the driver’s seat and sent the car down a side road into the woods, where he finally pulled up close to a windowless metal shed. Once Friar Michael had unlocked the door, Riley followed Simon inside, carrying the metal box. The friar clicked on some lights and closed the heavy sliding door behind them.
Riley could only stare. Each of the four walls was adorned with a large, ornate cross. Around each cross were Latin inscriptions. Even the ceiling had a cross in the very center, as did the floor.
When she ventured deeper into the room, she felt something brush against her skin. Some might claim it was magic, but she knew better—it was the power of faith itself.
In the very center of the space was a marble dais, resting directly on top of the floor’s large cross. On top of it sat a sturdy cage, large enough to hold a person as long as they remained on their knees. It was constructed of fine metal and had to have cost a lot of money. When Riley moved closer, she could see religious symbols engraved into every inch of the metal.
“Is this like a demonic holding tank or something?”
“Only for a short duration,” the friar replied.
He swung open the gate, took the box from Riley, and set it inside. The gate swung shut and clicked.
“So how does this work?”
“This building sits on holy ground,” he said.
“But the demon isn’t actually touching it.”
“The power of this place will reach through its prison and destroy it.”
“Really?”
As if in response, a shriek came from the box as the container thrashed around inside the cage. Riley gritted her teeth until the screams died, along with the demon.
“Deo sit omnis gloria,” the friar intoned.
“Amen,” Simon murmured.
Friar Michael opened the cage, removed the metal box, and took it outside, where he dumped the demon’s ashes on the ground. They glowed brilliant red for a moment and then turned silvery gray. During the next rain they’d be absorbed into the soil.
Rome: 1. Hell: 0.
“I always thought you guys were all about praying over the fiends, not killing them. Well, except for your Demon Hunters.”
“These particular demons, if they gain their freedom, will promptly return to the location where they were captured,” the monk said. “Often with tragic results.”
Simon nodded. “They’ve been known to take revenge on those they find in the building, or the person they originally possessed.”
“Oh.” That explained everything. “Better dead, then.”
“That’s the way we view it,” Friar Michael said.
*~*~*
After a visit to the monastery’s gift shop, Riley and Simon headed toward home. She waited a while, then asked the question she’d been thinking about since the exorcism.
“I’m confused. I thought once a trafficker sold a demon to the Vatican, the monks prayed over the fiends and they vanished. Now you’re saying Rome kills them?” Simon nodded in response. “Even the little ones?”
“They’re still Hellspawn.”
She winced at the thought of her little burglar getting snuffed.
“There’s more to it than just that, isn’t there?”
Now her companion looked uncomfortable. “If you really want answers, ask Beck,” he replied, which told her Simon knew more than he was telling her.
“More secrets, right?”
“More like hidden truths. Ask him. Maybe he can tell you.”