by Lindsay Mead
He smiled in triumph. "I stake my livelihood on them all of the time."
"Did your instincts tell you it was safe to accept things on your grandpa's behalf?" Okay, maybe that was a low blow, but it was worth it if it shamed Ian into going where he was safe.
The swagger wiped from his demeanor as he glared at Viola with continued determination. "No, that was familial obligation."
Vi let the topic drop there. Ian had made up his mind and, apparently, there was no changing it. Stubborn, fucker.
As Lana jogged back across the track, this time with duffel in hand, Viola said her goodbyes. She was hugged a little too tightly by each of her elders and nearly all four of them told her to be safe or that they would be praying for her. Naturally, she assured them that she'd be fine. No matter how many demons waited in the shadows, Vi had no intention of dying tonight.
"Okay everyone, onto the track," Viola ordered Lana, Aaron, and Ian as the others left for home. "Lana, salt please?"
Unzipping the bag on the move, Lana tossed her the nearly-full container. At this point, the field was deserted. It was after midnight and no one was sticking around to clean. The janitorial staff would come in early for that. The stadium lights turned off with loud pops around the field, leaving only a few emergency lights and the moon for them to see by.
"Gather together." Viola slowly walked around them, pouring the salt as she went and chanted, "He came to me today; Et venerunt ad me hodie. Asking for protection from evil; et postulantes tutelam, a malo est."
"What's she doing?" Ian whispered.
"Protective circle," Lana answered since Aaron was too busy praying over his bible. "As long as we're inside, we're safe."
Shifting on his feet, Ian seemed uncertain. "Just like in the movies then."
"Sometimes they get it right." Vi flashed a reassuring smile and tossed him the container. "Get ready with the flares, Lana. Let's see what we're working with."
Viola entering the circle was like a call to dinner. From all sides of the field, there was movement. Slow and stealthy, the tall creatures walked upright like humans. In the unabashed moonlight, their cloaks fluttered in the slight Autumn breeze. They moved like predators stalking their prey. These were not lesser demons…these were greaters.
"Flare." Vi extended an open palm behind her, needing better visibility.
Aaron's murmured prayers rolled around them as the red stick was placed in her hand. Watching one of the demons, she snapped off the flare's cap and a scarlet flame spouted from the tip. With a toss, the flare sailed through the air in a perfect arch. It landed just feet in front of the greater demon, not yet making it visible.
"These demons feel familiar to me, but I can't quite—" The creature walked into the red glow and revealed the luminescent pale skin beneath its black cloak. Recognizing the demon, Viola whispered, "Strigoi."
"What?" Ian slowly raised the container of salt, brandishing it like a weapon.
"Think vampire," Lana answered as she lit another flare and threw it toward a second strigoi demon.
"Fuck," he swore for the third or fourth time in the last couple days, making Viola think she was a bad influence on him. "Did Hollywood get them right?"
"Not exactly," Viola grumbled, grabbing Ian by the shirt and pushing him to the center of the circle. "They're Hell's bounty hunters and they're attracted to the sinful. I should have anticipated this. With all that sin, you're like a flashing neon sign to them."
Losing a bit of his color, Ian stared down at her. "What does that mean?"
"You've got 'Most Wanted' stamped on your forehead." Viola swept a nail along his brow, hoping to intimidate Ian into finally doing as she said but the fear pulled a slingshot effect and struck her instead. The strigoi were here to kill him, to condemn his soul, and they would succeed if she failed to protect him. That was more terrifying to her than the possibility of her own death. As her finger reached his temple, Viola let her palm rest against his face and she gazed desperately into his eyes. "If you leave this circle, they're going to rip out your throat, drink your blood, and send your soul to its eternal prison—so, don't leave this circle."
"What are you going to do?" Ian reached for Vi as she dropped her arm, but he stopped short of grabbing her.
"Strigoi are greater demons which means that they can't be stopped, not really." She crouched in front of the duffel and reached for her sword. "The best I can do is knock them out of commission temporarily and buy us some time."
"Wait 'til you see this," Lana said, wiggling her eyebrows excitedly at Ian before igniting another flare.
From the bag, Viola withdrew a long silver blade. It was thin and light, but sharp as hell. The red firelight gleamed off the surface, emphasizing the dozens of gold names carved into the blade. Each belonged to, and evoked, a single wrathful Archangel. In angelic script the words Fire of God were largest on the blade, sealing a bit of heaven's greatest weapon into the sword.
"Its name is Uriel, blessed with the wrath of God." Viola held it up with pride. For months, she'd toiled over it as part of her initiation. Vi forged the blade, carved the words with her bare hands, and nearly killed herself as the Archangel used her to channel his power into the weapon. "This is how you put down a greater demon."
Viola glanced from the beautiful sword to the waiting strigoi. She'd never fought one of Hell's bounty hunters before. It wasn't her job to save evil people from them. Arguably, exorcists and strigoi were coworkers. Exorcists returned escaped prisoners to Hell and the strigoi hunted the soon-to-be-convicted. Problem was, the soul they were after this time was being framed. It was also a soul that Viola cared very much about.
"Stay in the circle," Vi ordered as she stepped outside of the protective salt barrier. "Uriel and I have work to do."
18
As Viola marched across the football field, the cool night air filled her lungs. She gripped the blessed sword tightly and looked to each strigoi demon. There were five in total, all coming from different directions. Knowing they couldn't cross the salt line to get at their prey, the strigoi hesitated and watched Vi with curiosity.
"Viola! Are you crazy?" Ian shouted from behind. "They'll kill you."
Without responding, she glanced back to see Lana take hold of the panicked Scotsman and say, "You have to trust her, Ian."
"But we could just wait here until morning." He gaped at the assistant, then at Viola. "You don't need to risk your life!"
Viola scoffed. Of course, she did. Exorcists don't run from demons—they run toward them. She could no more walk away from this than a corpse could choose not to decay.
However, Lana managed to explain this to Ian, it was too faint for Vi to hear. Turning her attention to the nearest demon, Viola reached the center of the field. Scarlet flares and moonbeams accented the lines of her body. What a strange sight she must have been, dressed as a tattooed Rosie the Riveter in a leather jacket and wielding a glimmering sword. Facing the strigoi, she planted her feet and held Uriel at her side.
Sensing her challenge, the hellish bounty hunter dropped into a slow crouch and regarded her. It had a long thin body beneath an overwhelming ebony cloak. That was all the creature wore for concealment, having no genitalia to cover. It was eerie the way the moonlight reflected off its smooth, pale skin.
"I'm going to kill you," Viola threatened the demon in its Latin tongue, staring into its empty eyes.
Its lips, nearly nonexistent, curled with the ghost of a smile. On taught muscled legs, it sprang forward. The strigoi was fast, moving over the ground as silent as the breeze. It toyed with her by running at only half its natural speed. That was a mistake.
Vi stilled, giving it an easy target. Impossibly far away, the strigoi leapt. Its cloak fluttered behind it, like some mutated Dracula. Baring four finger-length fangs, the demon unhinged its jaw beyond the limits of the natural world. It emitted an ear-piercing cry, smooth and sharp like nails on a chalkboard.
That's when Viola acted. With two long steps,
as the demon passed overhead, she twisted and swept her sword skyward. The moment Uriel made contact, it felt like slicing through whipped butter with hardly a whisper of resistance. Vi slashed the blade to her side, flinging black blood into the grass, and the strigoi tumbled lifelessly to the ground. Its head rolled several feet further.
Another god-awful screech came from behind. Viola spun, swinging Uriel at the same time. The blade sliced through the attacking strigoi's neck, causing its inky blood to speckle her face. Before the dead strigoi could drop, a hard body smashed into her.
Viola slammed face first into the ground, scraping her cheek and knocking the wind from her lungs. Pushing up, Vi meant to flip and swipe her sword in the same movement but hands with ridged nails shoved her into the grass. She couldn't budge.
Multiple fangs sank into her neck and shoulder. Viola screamed, unable to help herself. They went deep, sending waves of pain and alarm shooting into her. The demon clenched its jaw, intending to rip a chunk from Viola's throat. She'd bleed out in seconds.
"Get the fuck off her!" came Ian's voice from close by.
Suddenly the weight was gone, the fangs jerked from her body. Vi saw the demon roll away. Ian followed, kicking it in the abdomen with his pointed cowboy boots. He then tipped a flask and droplets of holy water poured out. The strigoi flailed as its skin sizzled from the liquid.
Viola scrambled to her feet, knowing that the greater demon wasn't going to be stopped by the shock of holy water. She jumped around Ian and raised Uriel. Ian's holy water splashed onto her as she plunged the sword. The strigoi's head came off easily. Its body went limp, tongue hanging out over its fangs.
At the sight of her, relief flooded Ian's gaze. "Oh, thank God. Are you okay—"
His voice cut off as Viola lunged her sword toward his face. A fourth strigoi appeared at his shoulder, mouth open for the kill. Her blade swept past its teeth and through the rear of its head. Ian blanched, as the creature thrashed in pain but didn't die.
With a flick of her wrist, Viola swiveled the sharp edge of the blade upward. She lifted, and the sword sliced cleanly through the middle of its head. Careening Uriel in a wide arch, before the demon's head could restitch itself, she removed it from the body in a single swipe.
Thanks to the tug at her soul, Viola didn't need to search for the fifth and final demon. She grabbed Ian and forced him behind her, despite his much larger size. The strigoi lingered by Lana and Aaron who were safe inside the salt circle. It leered at the many corpses, then at Viola and Ian.
She raised Uriel threateningly, feeling her own blood slip down her torso, and said in Latin, "I will kill you as I killed your brethren."
The demon must have believed her because it retreated at full speed, disappearing into the woods behind the bleachers. Viola couldn't let it get far. Slaying the others would buy her maybe a week before they climbed out of Hell and returned to the hunt. But the last one would continue to stalk them, waiting for its chance to kill Ian.
Thinking of him sent a deluge of anger into her blood and she spun to shove him. "You're a dumb son-of-a-bitch, you know that?"
Ian gawked at her, throwing his arms up. "It was going to kill you."
She scoffed; how typical.
"I've survived being an exorcist without your help since I was eighteen." She pointed a menacing finger, getting in his face as best as she could. "That stunt nearly got you killed. You need to have more faith that I know how to do my job."
Viola wanted to kill him herself—she wanted to push him down and pummel his handsome mug until she was tired. Not being a raging maniac, she didn't give in to the impulse.
"I couldn't just let it hurt you!" Staring at the anger boiling in her eyes, Ian grabbed Vi's shoulders and hauled her against him. "I won't let anything hurt you."
"It's not your job to protect me, Ian," she snarled and pushed him away. "Why don't you get that? You can't protect me from demons and you can't protect me from yourself."
Instantly, Viola wanted to take it back. It was too vulnerable; too revealing. Judging by his stunned expression, Ian must've thought so too. Vi turned on her heel, stomping toward Lana and Aaron.
"What does that mean?" Ian caught up and jumped in front of her. "Why do you need protection from me?"
"Forget it." She hurried around him and, instead, spoke to the whole group. "I have to go after that demon. So, I need the three of you to go to the house where you'll be safe."
Aaron white-knuckled his bible. "I stay with you, Vi."
Of course, he did. Aaron never let her work alone. No one should ever have to do this sort of thing alone. It was silly of her to ask.
"I said I was sticking with you and I mean it." Ian glared at her, daring her to push the point. "I'm an adult, Viola, you can't make me do anything."
Lana's gaze danced tentatively between the two as she handed Vi a flask of holy water. Clenching her teeth, Viola stared at the bottle. Ian was right, she couldn't force him to do anything. Not legally anyway. She'd only waste time fighting him.
"Fine, then we'll all go," she grumbled and gestured to the four decapitated bodies. "Everyone pick a corpse and douse it. Can't leave this for the janitorial staff to find."
"Don't think they get paid enough for this kind of a mess," Lana joked and passed a bottle to Aaron.
Still smoldering inside, Viola went to one of the demons. She could feel Ian glancing her way as he picked a corpse of his own. This didn't really help her mood as she unscrewed the flask and wished it was alcohol. The holy water poured out, sprinkling onto the dead body. If the demon's head was still attached, it would heal the burns caused by the liquid. Without that ability, the water continued to heat the skin until flames took hold. Viola stepped back and watched the fire roll along its pale skin, consuming the creature. All that remained, in the end, was singed grass.
"All right, let's get going." Shoulder throbbing, she jogged after the demonic bounty hunter.
The tug was growing faint. That meant the demon was moving further away, and Vi had some catching up to do. Sensing her sour mood, the others fell in behind and kept quiet.
The woods grew thick quickly and the moonlight could hardly penetrate the mass of naked branches above. Lana passed out flashlights as they ran. She really had everything in that duffel. After that, Viola focused on the sound of their steady breaths, chirping crickets, and their shoes pounding over dry leaves. Dogs barked in the distance, cars rolled along the small-town roads.
Unfortunately, the tug continued to fade. This strigoi was really making a break for it. Maybe it'd decided that Ian wasn't worth the trouble…
Yeah, right.
Viola halted as a strange sensation swept through her. It was akin to what it must feel like if gravity was inverted, always encouraging things upward. The air here was light and clear with a lack of energies—a telltale sign that they'd stumbled onto sacred ground. No good or bad entity could remain for long. Everything must always move on.
"Is it near?" Ian whispered over her shoulder.
"No." She shook her head. "It's too far away, actually. I can't feel it anymore."
Honestly, she'd forgotten about the demon already. This sacred ground was different from the usual. It had a unique essence. One that was familiar; somehow knowing, somehow calling.
"Then why do you look a little spooked?" Aaron asked, having come around to the front.
"We're on sacred ground." She started up a hill, feeling pulled.
He and the others followed. "Must be the edge of a cemetery."
"Yes, but it's more than that. I know these hills." Viola bent to shove her hands in the lush grass. The scent of lilacs wafted into her nose. She inhaled and closed her eyes as a blanket of peace settled on her. Vi realized then why this place felt familiar. "This is where you'll lay me to rest someday."
Ian gawked. "What?"
"Geez, boss," Lana snorted and climbed past. "You say the weirdest shit sometimes."
"Oh, it's Sunny Grove Cemetery." A
aron was already at the top of the hill, pointing his flashlight onto the grounds. "I suppose you'll want to visit Big Man."
"It would be rude not to." Viola ascended the rest of the hill, ignoring Ian's baffled expression. "Lana, I'm going to need some cigarettes and whiskey."
"You got it, boss." she dropped to her knees and began fishing.
At the top, the moon was unhindered and illuminated their surroundings in its silver light. Beyond them sprawled an old cemetery, dotted with rows of headstones and white-barked trees. Viola had been here many times. It felt different to her than other cemeteries, and she always smelled lilacs—even though none were planted on the grounds. It was here favorite scent. That's how she knew she belonged.
"I'm sorry," Ian grumbled as he reached them. "Are we just going to ignore that Viola said she was going to be buried here someday?"
"It's the sort of thing that exorcists know." Aaron started into the rows of headstones.
Vi placed a comforting hand on her client's arm. "Don't worry, Ian, I didn't say it would be soon."
"Do you know when?" Ian's eyebrows curved.
"No, thank God." She widened her eyes, thinking of how awful that'd be. "I only know that I'll end up here."
Ian let out a heavy breath, lifted his cowboy hat, and dragged a hand through his black hair. Standing with him in this specific cemetery, Viola forgave herself for finding his disquiet so endearing. The poor guy was as out of his element in her world as she'd be in his.
"There's Big Man, Vi," Aaron called back, his flashlight steadily pointing the way. "We'll wait, while you go talk to him."
19
Viola dragged hard on the cigarette, causing the tip to glow red. She let the poison linger a moment in her mouth before sucking it into her lungs. Vi rarely smoked, generally only when she was drinking, which made the burning fumes that much more irritating and lovely. Exhaling in a big puff, the smoke swirled out like a steam engine.
Her gaze rolled from the starry sky to the wide headstone before her. On the arch of the gravestone was a glass of whiskey and a second lit cigarette balanced precariously on the edge. Engraved in the stone were the words, "Tennessee 'Big Man' Taylor—Society's criminal, our hero." Viola's parents had paid for the stone and burial since Tennessee didn't have any known family. She imagined him, leaning on the headstone, watching her with protective eyes and a teasing grin spread across his fat lips.