He got out of the car and walked across the yard. He flinched as he heard an animal-like howl from inside the Wilson house. Followed by Mrs Wilson screaming.
Nightingale raced into the house and up the stairs, dropping his bag in the hall. He found Mr Wilson hunched up against the wall opposite Billy’s room, bleeding profusely from a deep gash in the side of his head. Father O’Grady was inside the room splashing Holy water on Billy as he writhed and screamed on the bed. Red welts formed on the skin where the water touched. Billy wailed. ‘Leave me you child fucker! Child fucker child fucker child fucker!’ The priest stopped spraying Holy water and froze. ‘Yes, child fucker, we have reserved your place in Hell where you will be raped by eager children for all eternity! Yes! Yes! YES!’
‘Be silent!’ Father O’Grady sprayed the creature again and it squealed.
Nightingale grabbed the priest and dragged him out of the room. He slammed the door shut. ‘What is wrong with you?’ he demanded. ‘I told you not to go near the boy until I got back.’
‘That thing insulted me!’ hissed O’Grady.
‘That’s what it does! You need to keep your composure, you idiot! If you don’t it will see your weakness and pounce on it!’
Mr Wilson was moaning on the ground. Nightingale knelt down and examined the wound on his head. It wasn’t life-threatening. ‘James, can you hear me?’
Mr Wilson blinked as he tried to focus on Nightingale’s face. ‘Uh huh…’
Nightingale looked up at O’Grady. ‘Lisa, where is she?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What do you mean you don’t know?’
‘I don’t know!’
‘Find her!’
O’Grady trudged down the stairs while Nightingale helped Mr Wilson to his feet. Billy was laughing maniacally and shrieking that it would kill them all before the end of the night. The house vibrated. In the kitchen dishes spilled out of cupboards and smashed to the floor. Lights were blinking on and off. Nightingale helped Mr Wilson downstairs and lowered him to the sofa. He was groaning. He closed his eyes but Nightingale slapped him gently. ‘Wake up, James! Don’t fall asleep.’ He looked up. ‘Father!’ he shouted. ‘Father O’Grady!’
Father O’Grady appeared at the kitchen door. ‘I found her.’
Nightingale rushed into the kitchen. Mrs Wilson was huddled in a small recess behind the stove, which she’d apparently dragged away from the wall. She was whimpering. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets as her mouth worked soundlessly.
‘She’s in shock,’ said Nightingale. ‘What happened upstairs?’ he asked. ‘When you went into the room?’
The priest was ashen and his voice shook as he spoke. ‘It, uh… it attacked us.’
‘The boy was in restraints. He couldn’t get to you.’
‘You can restrain the body but not the spirit. I told you how strong it was! We shouldn’t have come. Lord, forgive me…’ He crossed himself with a shaking hand.
‘Get ahold of yourself,’ said Nightingale. ‘We need to end this before anything else happens.’
‘I don’t believe I can,’ said the priest. He shook his head. ‘It’s too strong. Too powerful.’
Nightingale grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. ‘You can, and you will.’
‘You can’t protect us from that thing!’
‘Yes I can. I’m going to draw two magic circles, one around me and the other around you. I’ve done it before and it works. All you have to do is stay in the protective circle. No matter what happens, stay in the circle.’
O’Grady shook his head. ‘No. It’s time for me to leave.’ The priest went to go but Nightingale stood in the doorway.
‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘You started this with me, and you’re finishing it. Come on. Let’s go. Put on your gear. Now. There’s no time to waste, we need to get this done.’ The priest did as he was told, putting on a surplice and a purple stole with trembling hands.
While O’Grady blessed himself and prayed, Nightingale helped Mrs Wilson out of the kitchen and put her on the couch next to her husband, who was nodding in and out of consciousness. ‘Do not leave this couch, whatever happens,’ said Nightingale. ‘Just stay here. Promise me.’
‘I promise,’ she whispered. She reached for her husband’s hand and held it tightly.
Nightingale went around the couch, picking up rugs and tossing them out of the way. He took a stick of consecrated chalk from his overnight bag and drew two concentric circles around the couch. He filled the space between the two circles with protective sigils, drawn from memory.
‘This circle will protect you, but only if you stay within it,’ he told them. ‘Okay?’
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Wilson, her voice a dull monotone.
Nightingale put his face close to hers. ‘You must stay within the circle, do you understand, Mrs Wilson?’
‘Yes,’ she repeated, this time with more conviction.
‘All right. Father, are you ready?’ The priest was wearing his surplice and purple stole. He didn’t say anything, but he nodded. Nightingale led Father O’Grady upstairs.
Billy’s room had become deathly quiet. Nightingale gently eased open the door. The air inside was so cold that their breath formed white clouds. The bed was empty. The restraints had been snapped apart. Billy was gone. Suddenly they heard a low growl coming from the ceiling. Nightingale looked up. Billy was crouched upside down on the ceiling, smiling at them with bloody teeth.
‘Impossible,’ whispered O’Grady.
Billy leapt from the ceiling and landed on Father O’Grady, the two of them crashing to the ground. Billy bared his teeth and went for his throat but Nightingale ripped him off the priest and hit him with the lamp. Billy grinned. ‘It hits us but we feel nothing. Nothing! Ahahahaha!’
Nightingale dropped the lamp and pulled out the stun gun. He pressed the two prongs against Billy’s neck and pulled the trigger. Billy went into spasm and Nightingale kept the current surging through the boy’s body until he finally went still. ‘Help me!’ Nightingale shouted at the priest. ‘Help me get it to the bed!’ Father O’Grady snapped into action, grabbing Billy’s feet. Billy began to thrash around again as they carried him over to the bed. Billy kicked the priest in the nose just as they reached the bed. O’Grady fell back with a cry. Nightingale wrestled with Billy, tying his wrists in the restraints.
The bed rose from the ground, hovering. Then it catapulted upward, slamming Nightingale into the ceiling. It went into free fall, then flew up against the ceiling again. The bed repeated this movement several times until Nightingale fell off and crashed onto the floor. ‘Hahahaha!’ Billy was trying to wriggle out of the restraints. As he whipped his vicious face about, blood and vomit splattered the walls and the two men. Nightingale jumped up, grabbed the restraints and tightened them, then secured Billy’s feet as he continued to curse and scream.
‘Ready?’ asked Nightingale. The priest was hunched. He had blood all over his face, and he was wheezing. ‘Ready?’ repeated Nightingale. ‘We need to do this now.’
The priest nodded. ‘Are you sure you can protect me?’
‘I’m sure,’ said Nightingale. He held up the chalk. ‘This chalk was consecrated by an archbishop, and I know the sigils that will protect us from Bakka.’
‘He lies!’ screamed Billy. ‘He lies, he lies!’
‘You’re using black magic?’ asked the priest. He shook his head fearfully. ‘No.’
‘It’s not black magic, it’s just magic,’ said Nightingale. ‘It will protect you.’ He held up the chalk. ‘This is as holy as your water.’
Billy continued to scream as Nightingale drew a protective circle around the priest, smaller than the one he’d drawn downstairs. When he’d finished he stood up. ‘Stay within that circle and you’ll be safe,’ he said.
‘Would the Holy Water help?’ asked O’Grady.
‘Of course,’ said Nightingale. He took four white church candles from his bag and placed them around the bed, lit
them with his Zippo and then sprinkled herbs over the flames as he spoke loudly and clearly. ‘Ut benedicat tibi Dominus in lucem haec magia est in circulos. Nemo venit ad nocere nobis.’
As Nightingale drew a second circle around himself, the priest sprinkled Holy Water on the floor around his circle.
‘It is time, Father,’ said Nightingale. ‘It is time to banish the demon from the boy.’
With a trembling hand, Father O’Grady traced the sign of the cross over Billy, himself and Nightingale. Then he sprinkled Holy Water on all three of them. Billy screamed. O’Grady recited the Litany of the Saints.
‘Lord, have mercy,’ said O’Grady.
‘Lord have mercy,’ repeated Nightingale.
‘Christ, have mercy.’
‘Christ have mercy.’
‘Christ, hear us.’
‘Christ hear us.’
‘NO! It burns. It BURNS!’ Billy writhed in agony on the bed.
‘God, the Father in heaven.’
‘Have mercy on us,’ said Nightingale. Then they went through all the Saints, one by one, appealing for their help to banish the demon. Billy writhed on the bed, shitting and farting. The house shook on its foundations and they could hear furniture in the next room smashing the walls.
‘Let us pray,’ said O’Grady. Nightingale and the priest bowed their heads. ‘God, whose nature is ever merciful and forgiving, accept our prayer that this servant of yours, bound by the fetters of sin, may be pardoned by your loving kindness.’
Billy writhed in pain. ‘Leave us! LEAVE US!’ The bed rose and fell rapidly, slamming into the floor so hard that the whole house shook.
‘Holy Lord, almighty Father, everlasting God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who once and for all consigned that fallen and apostate tyrant to the flames of hell, who sent your only-begotten Son into the world to crush that roaring lion; hasten to our call for help and snatch from ruination and from the clutches of the noonday devil this human being made in your image and likeness. Strike terror, Lord, into the beast now laying waste your vineyard. Fill your servants with courage to fight manfully against that reprobate dragon, lest he despise those who put their trust in you, and say with Pharaoh of old: “I know not God, nor will I set Israel free.” Let your mighty hand cast him out of your servant, Billy Wilson, so he may no longer hold captive this person whom it pleased you to make in your image, and to redeem through your Son; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, forever and ever.’
‘Amen,’ said Nightingale. Billy was thumping up and down on the bed. Then he went still. Then suddenly he snorted and spat a big green mass directly at Father O’Grady’s face. O’Grady took out a handkerchief, wiped it off, and continued to speak.
‘Fuck you child fucker! Fuck you!’
‘I command you, unclean spirit, whoever you are, along with all your minions now attacking this servant of God, by the mysteries of the incarnation, passion, resurrection, and ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ, by the descent of the Holy Spirit, by the coming of our Lord for judgment, that you tell me by some sign your name, and the day and hour of your departure. I command you, moreover, to obey me to the letter, I who am a minister of God despite my unworthiness; nor shall you be emboldened to harm in any way this creature of God, or the bystanders, or any of their possessions.’
Billy fell still on the bed, his eyes staring wide and unseeing.
Father O’Grady put his hand on Billy’s ankle, saying: ‘They shall lay their hands upon the sick and all will be well with them. May Jesus, Son of Mary, Lord and Savior of the world, through the merits and intercession of His holy apostles Peter and Paul and all His saints, show you favor and mercy.’
‘Amen,’ said Nightingale.
Billy’s eyes opened wide. ‘NOOOOOO! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! I’LL KILL YOU!’
Father O’Grady stood tall. ‘I cast you out, unclean spirit, along with every Satanic power of the enemy, every demon from hell, and all your foul companions, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Begone and stay far from this creature of God. For it is He who commands you, He who flung you headlong from the heights of heaven into the depths of hell. It is He who commands you, He who once stilled the sea and the wind and the storm. Hearken, therefore, and tremble in fear, Satan, you enemy of the faith, you foe of the human race, you begetter of death, you robber of life, you corrupter of justice, you root of all evil and vice; seducer of men, betrayer of nations, instigator of envy, font of avarice, fomenter of discord, author of pain and sorrow. Why, then, do you stand and resist, knowing as you must that Christ the Lord brings your plans to nothing? Fear Him, who in Isaac was offered in sacrifice, in Joseph sold into bondage, slain as the paschal lamb, crucified as man, yet triumphed over the powers of hell.’
Father O’Grady traced in the air the three signs of the cross, saying, ‘Begone, then, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Give place to the Holy Spirit by this sign of the holy cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with the Father and the Holy Spirit, God, forever and ever.’
‘I will bring you to hell, vile pig fuck priest! Leave now and I’ll spare you! Oh it hurts, it HURTS!’
‘I adjure you, ancient serpent, by the judge of the living and the dead, by your Creator, by the Creator of the whole universe, by Him who has the power to consign you to hell, to depart forthwith in fear, along with your savage minions, from this servant of God, Billy Wilson, who seeks refuge in the fold of the Church. I adjure you again, not by my weakness but by the might of the Holy Spirit, to depart from this servant of God, Billy Wilson, whom almighty God has made in His image. Yield, therefore, yield not to my own person but to the minister of Christ. For it is the power of Christ that compels you, who brought you low by His cross. Tremble before that mighty arm that broke asunder the dark prison walls and led souls forth to light. May the trembling that afflicts this human frame, the fear that afflicts this image of God, descend on you. Make no resistance nor delay in departing from this man, for it has pleased Christ to dwell in man. Do not think of despising my command because you know me to be a great sinner. It is God Himself who commands you; the majestic Christ who commands you. God the Father commands you; God the Son commands you; God the Holy Spirit commands you. The mystery of the cross commands you. The faith of the holy apostles Peter and Paul and of all the saints commands you. The blood of the martyrs commands you. The continence of the confessors commands you. The devout prayers of all holy men and women command you. The saving mysteries of our faith command you. Depart, then, transgressor! In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, I cast you out!’
The body of the boy went into spasm. Vomit bubbled to his lips and spilled out. He moved erratically, moaning and vomiting profusely. Finally he went still, his head falling to the side. He closed his eyes, and when he breathed again a black mass blew out of his mouth and filled half the room. Nightingale took out his wooden cross and gripped it tightly. O’Grady stared defiantly at the black smoke, which seemed to hover in front of him. ‘You have no place here, filth.’ He threw Holy Water at the mass of smoke and the air was filled with a horrendous screeching sound that made Nightingale wince.
The cloud of smoke began to harden, forming an animal-like shape some eight feet tall, with horns and a tail. It moved towards Nightingale, each step shaking the room. It stopped at the edge of the protective circle and roared.
Nightingale stood his ground, though his heart was pounding. ‘No can do, mate,’ he said. ‘You’d be better looking elsewhere.’
The demon roared again and then turned towards the priest who was still throwing Holy Water at the apparition. It moved towards the priest. O’Grady took a step back but managed to stay inside the circle. ‘Am I safe?’ he shouted at Nightingale. ‘For the love of God, tell me I’m safe.’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Nightingale. ‘I might have fucked up your circle. Sorry.’
‘What?’ screamed O’
Grady. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying that better the devil resides in you than in an innocent boy,’ said Nightingale.
The priest stared at him in amazement. ‘What are you saying?’ he shouted. ‘What the fuck are you saying?’
The demon had started to turn back into smoke and Nightingale’s eyes were watering. It became a mass of black cloud, then like a snake rearing its head to strike, the mass dipped backward, then sprang forth into the gaping mouth of the priest. O’Grady didn’t even have time to scream. His body shuddered and he fell over. In an instant he was crouched on all fours, growling like an animal. Nightingale pulled his stun gun from his pocket, pressed the prongs against O’Grady’s neck and pulled the trigger. Nine hundred thousand volts pulsed through the priest and sent him into convulsions. Nightingale kept the stun gun pressed against the man’s neck and he pressed the trigger again. And again. Eventually the convulsions stopped. Nightingale put the stun gun away, pulled out the handcuffs and bound O’Grady’s hands behind his back before checking on Billy.
Billy was curled up in a foetal ball, sobbing quietly. Nightingale gathered him up and carried him gently downstairs. Mrs Wilson looked up as he carried Billy into the sitting room. Her eyes widened in horror but Nightingale shook his head and smiled. ‘Billy’s fine,’ he said. ‘It’s over. You can leave the circle now.’
She hurried over to him and Nightingale handed Billy over. She hugged the boy to her chest and smothered him with kisses. ‘He’ll need a lot of rest,’ said Nightingale. ‘Give him water and soup and try him on solid food tomorrow. But rest is the key. And love.’
‘Thank you,’ said Mrs Wilson tearfully. ‘God bless you, and Father O’Grady.’
‘Well, we’ll see how that works out,’ said Nightingale but she had already turned away and carried Billy over to her husband.
Nightingale went upstairs. O’Grady was groaning. Nightingale dragged him to his feet. ‘I will drag you down to hell, Nightingale!’ The voice was Bakka’s.
Possession: A Jack Nightingale Short Story Page 3