Possessed (Bozley Green Chronicles Book 1)

by Bradford Bates

  POSSESSED

  BRADFORD BATES

  Copyright © 2017 Bradford Bates

  All rights reserved. This book is an original work of fiction, licensed for your personal enjoyment only. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author is unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  First edition: August 28, 2017

  Cover design by: Rebecca Frank

  Edited by Candy Crum

  If you need to contact the author, he can be reached at: bradford@bradfordbates.com

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  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Author’s Note

  Also by Bradford Bates

  1

  The street was dark, far too dark for such a warm summer night. It was almost as if the street had grown sick. Some sort of mysterious malady had taken over the block surrounding the building we were heading towards.

  Even the air here was oppressive. The humidity was so thick it weighed upon my very soul. The heat of the summer made it stifling, every breath was a struggle.

  As we drew closer, the street lights seemed to dim, and dark shadows pooled around the alleys between the buildings. There was a palpable feeling of dread emanating from the area. The street in front of the three-story row house was empty, which was odd for eight p.m. on a summer’s night. Especially in this neighborhood, the place was normally swarming with kids.

  The demon’s presence was making itself known, and even the non-magical were shying away. Every sense of self-preservation that I had was telling me to turn back, do not pass go, it isn’t worth the two hundred dollars. Despite this intense desire to flee, I would be going inside, it was my calling, my duty.

  Turning around tonight wasn’t an option. It might have been if it wasn’t Benny that called and for my own need to see this through to the end. Benny called forty minutes ago, breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps as he begged for my help.

  The man had gone out of his way to make life easier for me when the police department wanted to investigate me for my dealings with occult artifacts. He’d been present for more than one of my exorcisms, so he knew the true value of what I could accomplish. He’d stuck his neck out for me, so even when the priest got on the phone, I managed to keep my cool.

  Father Anderson was the head of one of the local Catholic Churches. The damned things were almost like Starbucks the way they popped up around here. Add in a good healthy dose of Baptists, Lutherans, and Jews and our little city felt like it had more places to worship than to grab a burger.

  Even as I was getting ready to depart, Father Anderson begged for my help. I could have just said yes, but sticking it to the priesthood was one of the perks of the job. When the begging stopped, and the threats of eternal damnation started, I just hung up the phone. Benny knew I wouldn’t leave him hanging, not when there was a teenage girl in harm’s way. I never allowed the possession of an innocent if there was a way for me to stop it.

  David parked the Caddy CTS in front of the building and then jumped out of the car to open my door. “Anything you need me to do, Boss?”

  David was the only person I knew that called me Boss instead of Bozz. In a way, I was his boss, but our relationship went beyond that. He was my apprentice in the magical arts, and as much as I hated to admit it, I kinda liked the kid.

  He wanted to learn, and he wasn’t bogged down with years of misconceptions that his older counterparts usually came to me with. Maybe one day, with the right amount of training, he would be able to help me exorcise demons. The legions of hell would surely tremble at the thought of two Bozley Greens walking the earth.

  David handed me my bag and closed the door after I had stepped out of the car. “Just paint the symbol I showed you on the door after I go in, and then get the car away from here.”

  David brushed past me on his way to the trunk. He opened it and pulled out a can of red spray-paint. The red was a funny choice. Anyone walking by would think David was up to no good painting a giant red pentagram on the door of the building. I smiled at the thought of Father Anderson’s face as he saw it on his way out.

  Still, it was better to be safe than sorry when it came to trafficking with demons. If I failed, the symbol wouldn’t hold the beast indefinitely, but it should buy the powers that be enough time to send in the big guns.

  David shook the can as he moved towards the front door. “I can do more than paint symbols on doors. I’m ready to be there with you, to send these demons back where they belong.” The tension radiated off his shoulders. “I need to help.”

  I placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder and gripped it tight until he looked me in the eyes. “I know you’re ready for more, David, but not this time, not on this case.” He jerked away from me, looking forlorn.

  David lowered his head in acceptance as the rain started to come down around us. “You’re the boss.”

  Being the boss wasn’t always easy, but neither was keeping good apprentices alive long enough to learn the trade. Give a man a little bit of power and watch as they run off to show the world how special they are. That kind of thing might have worked in high school, but the demons didn’t play games. Go into battle without a steel resolve and the magic to back it up, and you never came back out.

  Turning away from David, I trotted up the front steps to the unassuming row house. I hated these things, three times as tall as they needed to be, and only half as wide. This home in particular had seen better days.

  The paint was peeling, and the windows were caked with dirt. The house itself seemed to be calling out in despair just like the people I could sense within. Waves of back the fuck off washed off of this building as easily as the rain that was falling. Every drop renewed its fury, shifting from a drizzle to a downpour as David joined me on the front porch.

  I shot David what I hoped was a cocky smile despite the churning feeling I had in my gut. “Don’t forget to move the car. I’m not sure the old girl would survive another incident.”

  “I got it, Boss.” David shook his head, letting just a trace of irritation creep into his voice.

  I roughly spun the boy around by the shoulders to make sure he was looking at me. “The task I’ve given you is important. One mistake and someone ends up dead, more likely a lot of someones. I’m counting on you to get this right and to get the hell out of here. If I’m not back in an hour, you know what to do.”

  “You can count on me,” David said with determination, all traces of the frustration he had shown at being left at the door had faded.

  I just nodded and opened the front door to the house. It ma
de a hideous groaning sound as I entered. The door slammed shut behind me as soon as I let the handle go. Now, that was a new trick. This demon was powerful, and it was already playing games. I didn’t scare easily; something this hell spawn would figure out shortly.

  Sounds drifted down from the floor above us, and I knew that I needed to get moving. Behind me, David was shaking the can of spray paint between uses. I stole a quick glance out the window and saw that he was nearly done. The kid really did pay attention to everything I had tried to teach him.

  He was right; it was time for him to join me on an exorcism.

  When David completed the symbol, a wail issued from somewhere above me. The demon knew it was trapped. There was only one way for it to leave this house now, and that was back to the inferno. If anything, Father Anderson had understated the severity of what was happening in this home, things were far worse than I had imagined.

  Before turning towards the stairs, I pulled out my own can of paint and started drawing symbols on the ground by the door. There was no reason to put the boy’s wards to the test against a fully manifested demon. There was no doubt in my mind that David’s wards were excellent, but mine were better, and whatever was up there couldn’t be allowed to leave.

  Tossing the can of paint aside I reached into my bag and grabbed for a small cylinder of salt and iron shavings. The cylinder cracked open easily enough and the contents filled both of my hands. Sucking in a breath like I had when I blew out the candles on my thirtieth birthday cake, I sprayed the contents over the still-wet paint. Nothing fortified a ward quite like this mixture, and today, we were going to need all the help we could get if things went wrong.

  The faint rumbles of the caddie’s engine started, and the sound slowly drifted away. David was a good kid, and if he stayed alive long enough, he would make a damn fine exorcist. I felt better knowing that he was safe and, if the worst were to happen to me today, that he would be able to carry on with my work in some capacity.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, I rushed to the second floor. The evil in this house bathed me in its stench. The smell of rotting eggs and brimstone was almost too much to endure, but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t dealt with before. The demons counted on tricks like this to keep you away so they could finish their possession without unwanted interruptions. We lived in an age where if you told someone about a ghost or a haunting, they would laugh in your face. That might have been the devil’s greatest trick—training us not to believe.

  It took a few moments of fumbling around in my pocket, but eventually my hand came free with my trusty folding knife. The knife itself was over forty years old, but the folded steel blade had another forty years of use left in it. The handle was carved out of bone that was much, much, older. This wasn’t a weapon, although it would do in a pinch. This was an item of power, and one I used frequently.

  The blade flipped open like it had so many times before, and I didn’t even feel it as I cut open the index finger on my left hand. Quickly, I placed the bleeding digit against the tattoo on my right forearm and whispered the incantation to activate my personal wards. “Defendat me a mala.”

  The power washed over my body. I would have said it felt like rain, but it almost felt more like someone had cracked an egg over my head. That and instead of being wet, steam rose off of my coat as the spell finished its work. The landing had grown a little brighter, and the feelings of worthlessness and failure started to subside. Those feelings still tugged at the edges of my senses, but now they were muted.

  The demon’s voice spoke inside of my head. “You can’t save her.” Laughter seemed to come from all around me. “It’s too late.” The voice changed tone and whispered gently, almost as if we were old friends. “She is beyond redemption, your God holds no power here.” More laughter. “You will fail this time, Bozley Green, as you have so many times before.”

  The demon was powerful if its voice could penetrate my wards. Maybe more powerful than I could handle alone, but I refused to call David back inside, and Antonio was down in Austin dealing with an outbreak of his own. That left this girl with me as her best chance. “God help her.”

  Two people ran down the stairs from the third floor. One of them was a portly woman that was crying hysterically, the other was my good friend and cop, Benny Benitez. He caught up to the woman just before she would have collided with me and pulled her into a hug. Her sobs shook her until she gently slid to her knees.

  Benny knelt on the floor with her and pulled her into an embrace. He was always better with people and emotions than I was. He patted her back and then pointed over her shoulder at me.

  He whispered frantically to her in Spanish. “See, he is here now. If anyone can help your girl, it’s him.”

  The woman detached herself from Benny and then pulled my leg tight against her chest. She looked up into my eyes, tears streaming down her face. “Save her; save my Gabriella.”

  Placing a hand on her head, I said a brief prayer laced with a spell. The woman fell from her knees down to the floor. I shook my leg free of her as Benny rose to his feet shaking his head at me in disgust.

  “Was that really necessary?” Benny asked.

  Nodding toward the woman on the floor, I said, “The last thing we need is another host for this thing to slip into. Her distress wasn’t helping anyone.”

  Benny glared at me. “Still, you could have at least warned me first. I would have had her go and sit in a chair.”

  Brushing off his stare as if it meant nothing to me, I moved towards the next flight of stairs. Benny had a good idea about moving her from the floor. It also gave me a way to keep him out of this fight. He wore a warded necklace I gave him, but with the juju this thing was giving off, it might not be enough to save him if the demon ended up manifesting inside of the girl.

  I turned back to look at Benny from the first step of the stairs. “Just get her somewhere comfortable.” I started up the stairs and shouted over my shoulder. “And for God’s sake, don’t open the front door.”

  When I reached the third floor, Father Anderson stepped out of the girl’s room. He looked worn down like he had been at this for days. He probably had been, which meant the church should have called me in sooner.

  The Catholic Church always fought against bringing in outsiders. Show no weakness in the face of evil and all that, but they should have realized this was over their heads. Sometimes just believing in God wasn’t enough, you had to get tricky, meet the demons head to head on their own playing field. If that didn’t work, being one of the few blessed with the ability to control magic didn’t hurt.

  Father Anderson’s eyes met mine. “You.” His words dripped with scorn.

  Did he forget that less than an hour ago he had begged me to come? That was the church for you, a petty and ungrateful lot as a whole. That didn’t mean there weren’t a few good apples in their organization; I just hadn’t had the opportunity to meet some of them.

  I think what got me the most was the judgment and scorn they heaped upon others. I liked to follow a different path, one that involved a little more tolerance and a little less telling people how they should live.

  “Me.” I agreed meeting the hate I saw in his eyes with a smile.

  “Be gone. We don’t need your devilry here, Magus.”

  Well that was a new way to look at things. The good Father must be tired or losing his wits if he didn’t remember his invitation. “By the sounds coming from that room, and the weather outside, I beg to differ, Priest.” This time it was my words that dripped with venom. I wasn’t some two-bit charlatan at the county fair. To compare what I did with a magician was almost absurd. I couldn’t cast fireballs with a thought, well at least not yet. I used magic: real magic, ancient magic—to save people when I could. To line my pockets when I had to and to take the fight back to the demons that had marked my life as a child. To call me a magician was like calling the Pope just some guy with a book.

  “This is church business. I’ve already
had words with the demon.” He hunched over, his breath coming in gasps. “I’ve only come out here to catch my breath before banishing the vile thing back to hell.”

  “If you could have done it alone the thing would be back in the pit already.” Father Anderson glared at me, his chest rising and falling with rage. “That and you probably wouldn’t have taken the phone from Benny and asked me to come.”

  Father Anderson looked at me almost confused as if he didn’t remember making that call. He rose back up to his full height. At six-foot-six, he towered over me.

  I pointed towards the door. “We better get a move on, or this demon is going to have complete control of her soon.”

  Father Anderson looked down his nose at me, his eyes full of resentment. His arms flexed inside his coat, threatening to rip the seams. It always seemed to me like he would have been better off as football player, or maybe a lumberjack. Shit, with a full head of steam, he might as well have been a truck.

  If you could rip a demon from a body with just your muscles, I would have called him every time I had a case, but his physical strength meant less than nothing here unless we needed to restrain the girl. Only a staunch will and a few tricks would get you through any of the more powerful possessions. His book, holy water, and prayer beads wouldn’t even make this demon sweat.

  Father Anderson stepped towards the door. “If you are joining me, then you have to follow God’s lead, and today his will works through me.”