by Pandora Pine
“Frank, I’m glad you’re here. This is my fiancé, Tennyson Grimm and my captain, Kevin Fitzgibbon.” Ronan stepped out of the way so the others could meet the priest.
“Tennyson, Ronan’s told me a lot about you.” Father O’Callaghan shook his hand.
“I wish we were meeting under different circumstances, Father,” Ten said.
The priest nodded. “Captain Fitzgibbon, another good Irish Catholic boy, so I hear.”
Kevin smiled. “Yes, Father. I graduated from Cathedral High School in Southie many more years ago than I even want to think about now.”
“You can never take the Catholic out of the boy, I always say.” The priest patted Kevin’s shoulder and turned back to Mark. “This is an especially tough possession. The demon has its hooks in tight.”
“Hello, Rod,” Tennyson said with a sneer on his face. “Cut the shit and get the hell out of Mark. There’s no way you can win this. Let me help you cross over. You can be at peace.”
“Fuck off, Tennyson!” Mark growled, pushing against the ropes that bound him to the chair. “I’m not going anywhere. If you think this asshole in the collar can force me out of my prize, you’re sadly mistaken.” He laughed. “I’m really going to enjoy watching you die slowly.”
Ronan shook his head. This wasn’t going to be easy by any stretch of the imagination.
“Did you study the prayers I sent you?” Father O’Callaghan asked, clearly ignoring the spirit of Rod Jacobson speaking through the teenaged boy.
Ronan nodded. It wasn’t everyday he got exorcism prayers sent to him via email.
Father O’Callaghan dipped his fingers into a bowl of water sitting on the table. He stepped up to Ronan and made the sign of the cross on his forehead. “It’s critical you say the responses when required.” The look on Frank’s face was all business.
“I understand,” Ronan agreed.
“Why don’t we start with the prayer to St. Michael. If you know the words, please say them with me. St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle...”
Ronan joined in the prayer. He loved the meaning of these words and had been repeating it himself quite a bit since he’d been attacked. He noticed Fitzgibbon and Tony were saying the prayer from memory as well, while Tennyson was reading it from a printout. “Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.”
“You think that shit scares me, you dirty bastard?” Mark spit at the priest. “I’m gonna kill you all!”
“Have you ever seen anything like this before?” Ronan asked.
“This is nothing, to be honest,” Father O’Callaghan admitted. “I think he’s just getting started. It could be a long night.”
“What do you mean he’s just getting started?” Tony looked sick to his stomach.
“This isn’t your son at the moment, Mr. Abruzzi,” Father O’Callaghan said. “This is Rod Jacobson. You can’t take anything he says to heart.” The priest looked around the room. “Any of you. It's very important that you stay strong mentally. He will prey on your weaknesses, and the more strength he gains, the harder it will be for Mark to fight him.”
“Molest any little boys lately, Father?” Jacobson said with glee in his voice. “Ronan knows all about that. Don’t you, Ro? What’s it like being married to a kiddy diddler? Did he fuck you, but fantasize you were a six-year-old?” Jacobson laughed again. It sounded maniacal.
“Jesus Christ,” Tennyson sighed. “Can we just get on with it already?”
“What about you, Daddy?” Jacobson taunted Tony. “You hitting Officer Tight Ass yet? Girls aren’t my thing, but damn, that bitch’s twat makes my dick twitch. Mom’s fifty-year-old hole must be looser than Old fucking Faithful. I know you’re fucking her on the side, Tony.”
Tony charged at his son. Thankfully, Fitzgibbon grabbed him and stopped his advance. “Calm the hell down, Abruzzi. Don’t make me put you out in the hallway. You heard what the Father said. This isn’t Mark. This isn’t your son.”
Ronan took a few steps away from Tony and the captain. He took a few deep breaths. They weren’t helping to calm him down.
“Don’t even think it, Ronan,” Ten said quietly from beside him.
“Think what?” He didn’t want to overhear what Kevin was starting to whisper. He couldn’t help wondering if what Jacobson had been shouting was true. Not the part about Old Faithful, but the part about Tony sleeping with his new partner in Vice. “I know there’s no way Tony is cheating on Carlie. I’d bet my life on it.”
Ten looked like he was ready to respond when the father motioned them over.
“Ten, we’re ready to start,” Ronan said. Father O’Callaghan was standing in front of Mark, who was still yanking at his restraints.
Ronan couldn’t help wondering what would happen if he managed to get free. The boy was only seventeen years old and maybe 5’6” tops, but he looked like he had Viking Berserker strength. “Kevin?”
“You want me over there in case King Kong manages to break free?” the captain asked, seeming to read Ronan’s mind.
Tennyson nodded before Ronan could respond. “Do you have a taser with you? I mean I see your gun, but, I don’t think this is the kind of situation that calls for deadly force, do you?”
Fitzgibbon studied Ten’s face for a few seconds. “This isn’t Mark Abruzzi, Ten. Stop thinking of that as a teenage boy and remember he’s a deadly serial killer who’s got sixteen notches on his belt and who nearly killed Ronan a few weeks ago. He’s had three tries at Greeley and I’ll be God-damned if I give him a fourth shot at my boy.” Fitzgibbon paused for a moment. “Now, do you want me to run out to the SUV and lock my gun inside?”
“Jesus Christ, no.” Ten shook his head. “Do you have your spare gun on your ankle too?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Kevin asked quietly.
Ronan felt naked without his gun. He knew it was still in evidence at the police station and even if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t be able to keep it at the hospital with him. It sure as hell would make him feel a lot better now though, to have it on his hip. What wouldn’t make him feel better would be having to use it on a seventeen-year-old boy.
The still wounded detective took a deep breath and looked at the struggling boy. Mark looked like the kid he and Ten had met a few months ago on the Boston Common. He’d put on some weight and wasn’t wearing black eyeliner anymore. He was essentially the same kid, but for his personality. He refused to think of that thing writhing against the restraints and shouting out insults as Mark anymore.
Father O’Callaghan took a deep breath and holding his crucifix toward Mark Abruzzi, began to speak, "This body belongs to a child of God. You have no right to this body or the soul that resides in it! In the name of Jesus the Christ I command you to leave Mark!"
“I’m not going anywhere, asshole.” Jacobson crowed.
The priest held the crucifix tighter in his fist. “In the Name of Jesus Christ, our God and Lord, strengthened by the intercession of the Immaculate Virgin Mary, Mother of God, of Blessed Michael the Archangel, of the Blessed Apostles Peter and Paul and all the Saints, and powerful in the holy authority of our ministry, we confidently undertake to repulse the attacks and deceits of the devil.”
Wow, he thought, that line really packs a punch. This wasn’t the kind of prayer the faithful recited in church on Sundays. In fact, most Catholics would never hear these words spoken aloud in their lifetime.
Rod Jacobson snarled. His attempts to break his bonds grew stronger as his teeth gnashed together. “Kill you!” he howled. “Kill you all!”
Ronan thought he sounded like a wild animal in pain. He looked over at Tennyson and saw the same thought mirrored in his eyes. The room had grown colder as the priest recited the opening prayer. Ronan could see his breath coming out in small pan
ts.
Father O’Callaghan looked to Ronan. “Behold the Cross of the Lord, flee bands of enemies.” His voice had gotten louder to be heard over the roars of Rod Jacobson.
“The Lion of the tribe of Juda, the offspring of David, hath conquered,” Ronan responded.
“No!” Jacobson shouted. “This is my body! It’s mine. I won’t go. I have so much work left to do!”
“We have to keep going! You have to fight, Mark!” Father O’Callaghan shouted over the din Jacobson was making. “May Thy mercy, Lord, descend upon us.”
Ronan replied, “As great as our hope in Thee.”
“Daddy! Daddy help me!” Mark’s voice pleaded for help.
Tony moved to go to his son, but Fitzgibbon held him back. “That isn’t your son, man. That’s still Jacobson.”
Father O’Callaghan held the purple vestment against the side of Mark’s face. Jacobson screamed as if he were being burned. “We drive you from us, whoever you may be, unclean spirits, all satanic powers, all infernal invaders, all wicked legions, assemblies and sects.”
Ronan had seen exorcisms acted out in movie scenes before but those dramatic displays were nothing compared to this. Tennyson was openly weeping. He whispered his own prayer that Bertha Craig and his mother were in some way comforting Ten right now. Tony was letting Fitzgibbon hold him. A horrified look marred his once handsome face. Ronan didn’t need to be psychic to know his former partner would never be the same, no matter how this ended.
Jacobson had stopped screaming and was now alternating between moaning and growling.
“In the Name and by the power of Our Lord Jesus Christ, may you be snatched away and driven from the Church of God and from the souls made to the image and likeness of God and redeemed by the Precious Blood of the Divine Lamb.” The priest wrapped more of the vestment around Mark’s head, while Ronan came forward with the holy water. He poured it over the cap of Mark’s skull.
Mark hissed and went silent. His head dropped to his chest. His limbs stopped moving.
Ronan stepped away from the now still teenager. This was the worst thing he’d ever seen in his years on the police force. He could see the red marks on Mark’s wrists from where the rope had cut into his tender skin. Tennyson appeared at his side and took his hand. Threading their fingers together, Ronan squeezed their hands together.
“Is that it? Is Jacobson gone?” Tony asked, his voice was raw from crying. His eyes were ringed in red. “Ten, do you feel him?”
Tennyson was silent for a moment. “I don’t sense him.”
“Mark?” Tony broke away from Fitzgibbon and moved to his son, who still seemed to be out cold. He took his son’s head in his hands and lifted it up.
Mark’s eyes blinked a few times before they opened. “Dad?” he asked softly.
“Yeah, it’s me. It’s me, pal.” Tony hugged him before kissing the top of his wet head.
“Why am I tied to the chair?” Mark laughed softly. “And why am I wet?”
Tony let his son go and started loosening the rope. “I’ll explain it all later.” When the boy was free, he pulled his son into his arms and hugged him tight.
Mark’s right hand bumped against Tony’s holster.
“Dad, can you take your gun off. I don’t ever want to be around another one of those things again.” The boy shivered.
Pulling away, Tony did what the boy asked, setting the holstered weapon on the dresser next to the television.
“I love you, Dad,” Mark whispered.
“I love you, son.” Tony held the boy tight.
Ronan knew this wasn’t the end of the road for Mark Abruzzi, but for the moment they could all take a breath and rest a little easier.
44
Tennyson
Even though all he’d done was stand there and watch the exorcism, Tennyson felt like a limp dish rag. His emotions were all over the place. The overriding feeling he was experiencing at the moment was relief. He knew Mark Abruzzi had a long road ahead of him, but at the moment, everything was okay.
“I’m so tired, Dad,” Mark said to Tony.
“Come on, why don’t you lay down for a few minutes.” Tony led him over to one of the hotel room’s double beds. Tony got him situated and gave him a bottle of water to drink. After the bottle was drained, Mark sat back against the pillows.
“How are you feeling?” Father O’Callaghan asked.
“Better. Tired. Relieved,” Mark answered.
“I’m glad.” The priest smiled and handed him a yellow legal pad and a pen. “Before you take a nap. I wonder if you wouldn’t mind jotting down notes on how you feel right now. Do you sense the evil presence around you? You know, things like that.”
“Sure, Father. I can do that.” Mark nodded and took the cap off the pen.
“How are you feeling?” Tennyson asked Ronan. He’d been so tuned in to his own emotions that he’d neglected to check in on Ronan.
“Exhausted, to tell the truth,” Ronan admitted.
Ten got a good look at him in the dim light of the hotel room. His fiancé had dark circles under his eyes and looked like he could sleep for a month. Thankfully, he didn’t sense anything else wrong with him that getting him back to the hospital to continue his convalescence wouldn’t fix. Ten wrapped his arms around his lover and hugged him.
“I’m looking forward to getting back to the hospital.” Ronan sounded shocked by his own admission.
“I’m taking you back now.” Fitzgibbon said. “It set me back by a few days in my recovery when I went on my little field trip to the morgue to see Rod Jacobson’s body with Vann Hoffman. I can’t believe all these months later we’re still talking about that bastard.” Kevin shook his head.
Ten agreed. Hopefully this was the end of the line for Jacobson and his reign of terror.
“Gentlemen, if I may have a moment?” Father O’Callaghan was motioning them all together. He was standing over by the hotel room door, as far away from Mark as he could get, without being in the hallway.
“What’s up, Father?” Ronan asked.
“I can see all of you looking relieved and acting just shy of celebrating. I need you to know that we’re not out of the woods yet.”
“What do you mean?” Tony wore an alarmed looked. “Jacobson is gone. My son is back to his normal self again.”
“We were able to drive Jacobson’s malevolent spirit out of Mark for the moment. These demons are notoriously hard to drive out for good.”
“What are you saying, Father?” The panic was back in Tony’s voice.
“I’m saying that it’s going to take more than one session to remove this entity from your son. It may take several more, in fact it may take a period of months or even years to rid him of this menace to his mortal soul.”
“You’re saying this could take a year?” Tony’s voice was getting louder by the second. Ronan set his hand on his friend’s shoulder and inclined his head toward Mark.
“I’m saying that’s entirely possible,” Father O’Callaghan agreed. “I am more than happy to continue working with him, but you all need to clearly understand what the boy is facing.”
“I don’t mean to be the wet blanket in all of this,” Fitzgibbon began, “but, this young man is wanted in two murders and the attempted murder of a Boston Police Officer.” He hooked a thumb at Ronan. “Now, I don’t begrudge the fact that Mark’s soul is in need of additional cleansing or exorcising here, but Tony agreed to turn him in to face those criminal charges once this was all over. Not only is that the right thing to do, but merely being here with Mark means that Tony, Ronan, and myself are harboring a fugitive, which is putting our badges in jeopardy.”
Ten turned to look around at Mark, who was bent over the legal pad, writing. He wasn’t the same kid he and Ronan met months ago. Gone was the needy kid, who was looking for love around every corner. Tennyson understood that feeling. He’d lived the same life Mark had led, but for his gift, he would have ended up selling himself on the streets of Kansa
s City or Saint Louis. His lousy salary at the Union Chapel McDonald’s would never have been enough to get him an apartment. He honestly didn’t know what he would have said if a handsome man had offered him money for sex. He was damn glad now he didn’t have to figure it out.
The priest arched an eyebrow. “I understand where you’re coming from, Captain Fitzgibbon, but Mark’s mortal soul is a bit more important than the boy rotting away in a jail cell.”
Father O’Callaghan’s voice pulled Tennyson’s attention away from Mark and back to the conversation.
“Can’t you visit him inside whatever facility houses him, Frank?” Ronan asked.
The priest frowned. “Of course I could, but that kind of place doesn’t offer the kind of privacy Saint Christopher’s would. I could give him sanctuary.”
“I’m sure that you could, but as officers of the law, we couldn’t allow that.” Ronan wore a grim look.
“So, is Jacobson free to come back and take over Mark’s body again?” Tony angry-whispered.
“If I don’t continue to exorcise him, then yes. It’s an ongoing battle against Satan, Mr. Abruzzi.”
“Can Jacobson kill my boy?”
“Yes, I’ve seen that happen.” The priest sounded grim.
“Jesus Christ, Frank,” Ronan grabbed the priest’s arm and started to pull him aside when Tony spoke again.
“Where are you going, pal?” Tony asked Mark, who was halfway across the room
“To the bathroom,” the boy answered sheepishly. “I drank that whole bottle of water…” he trailed off.
Tony nodded absently and turned back to Ronan and Father O’Callaghan. “I’m torn,” Tony admitted. “I know I need to turn him in, but the father in me wants him to get all the help he needs. He can’t end up in prison or a mental institution with Jacobson still stuck inside of him, Ronan. You know that.” Tony’s voice cracked. Tears were swimming in his eyes again.
Ronan nodded. He ran a hand over his face. “I also know that a prison or a county jail isn’t going to let him have private visits with a priest.”