The Influence (Supernatural Thriller)

by Matthew John Slick

  “Your cowardice has saved you,” said Paraptome. “You may rise and speak to me, but take care where you look.”

  The prince stood and faced its master but did not dare to look any higher than its taloned feet. “Great One, there is a man who is host to one of our kind. We have used him many times. Master, this human is a servant, easily controlled. Even now he is obeying our command.” With that, Dreglord pointed downward to a nearby street.

  Paraptome turned its head to the left, following Dreglord’s skeletal finger. In the alley at the edge of the shadows stood a lonely male figure, silhouetted against the dimly lit walls. It was obvious to Paraptome that the human was possessed. There was coldness and darkness around the man that only angels and demons could see. Paraptome watched.

  Walking along the street was an African-American woman and her teenage son. He was carrying two bags of groceries, one in each hand. The man was lying in wait for them. Without facing the demon, Paraptome said, “Explain.”

  “Master, this human calls himself Leech. He has desired to join a street gang so he can have a steady supply of drugs. We have demanded, through our servants in that gang, that he kill someone in order to be accepted. This man also desires power and influence. He believes he will receive both. This is our test for him.”

  “He will receive more than he asked for,” said Paraptome, studying the man.

  The woman and her son continued their walk. She was a single mother, a waitress, and they were going home together after getting off the bus. It wasn’t a good neighborhood, especially this late in the evening. They had no choice but to live there because it was all they could afford. Their life had been difficult ever since her husband had abandoned them for another woman and they were forced to fend for themselves. They walked slowly, close together, trying to avoid the menacing shadows and alleys. She appeared to be fatigued, thin, and had sunken eyes. She seemed to labor to walk. Her son was obviously slowing himself to stay with her.

  Just as they reached the alley, Leech stepped out of the shadows and out into a dim storefront light that illuminated that part of the sidewalk. The light cast an eerie, menacing shadow across his face.

  They stopped and took a couple steps backwards.

  Leech raised a gun and pointed it at the woman. She put her hands in front of her and said something about not having money. Leech took a step backward and tensed his arm. “Take our money,” she pleaded. Leech watched her eyes. His heart was pounding hard and his hand was shaking. “Take what we have,” she said. “Take it all.”

  Leech’s hand stopped shaking. He gritted his teeth.

  The boy dropped the groceries and quickly lunged in front of his mother. Leech fired. The crack of noise echoed through the streets in the alley and numerous bystanders turned to look. They saw the boy fall to the ground and a man running across the street, the sounds of his footsteps fading into the blackness.

  The mother screamed, sending echoing shards of shrieks among the buildings. Two men, who had just emerged from a bar, had heard the shot and saw Leech running away. Both bolted towards the commotion. She was on the ground on her knees, crying, cradling her son’s head as she begged for help.

  Two men stopped and stood over her and one of the men accidentally kicked one of the bags of groceries spilling it across the sidewalk. The other said, “I’ll get help,” and hurried back into the bar.

  The boy lay sprawled on the cold cement. His mother sobbed, calling his name over and over again. “Bobby, Bobby…”

  He stared into his mother’s eyes, hardly moving, coughing. Then blood began to bubble from between his slightly parted lips. He grabbed his mother’s blouse.

  “No! No! No!” she screamed, sobbing. She yelled out again, “Somebody please help me! Please help!”

  The prostitute and the man were now there.

  The woman clutched her son, “Please, God, no. Save him. Please, God.”

  Ramah stopped and heard a call. He turned and began to fly quickly.

  She sobbed, calling her son’s name over and over, “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby.” The boy closed his eyes. “No!” she yelled out. “Bobby, please don’t die!” Her tears poured down upon his face and she wiped his hair with a bloody hand.

  “Bobby! Baby! Mommy’s here, baby!”

  Bobby looked into his mother’s eyes.

  “Yes, baby! That’s right. Look at me. Look at Momma!”

  Ramah arrived and quickly circled twice before landing near them. He then moved to a better vantage point and looked into the boy’s eyes. The boy looked back at Ramah.

  Paraptome saw the angel but did not care. It opened its wings and descended in a slow arc as it followed Leech through the dark alleys.

  The killer was running. Paraptome kept its distance lest it alert the demon inside him.

  Leech ducked into an alley, ran across a street, and then down another alley. He stopped to catch his breath and frantically looked around to see if anyone was following him. No one was.

  He turned and started running again, then ducked down another alley where he kicked open a door to a building and ran up some stairs, knocking over an old man carrying a garbage bag. He hustled through a hallway, around a corner, and down more stairs, slamming his body against a door and then almost tumbling to the ground as he missed a step before finally emerging into another alley. There was a garbage dumpster there, so he bolted towards it and ducked into its shadow, and lowered himself, sitting on his heels. Leech could hear the hard pulse of his blood in his ears. Between hurried deep breaths he swallowed, then looked back and forth, listening for anyone that might be close by.

  He jumped up and sprinted down the alley and across a street and into another building where he ran up two flights of stairs. A cleaning lady was unlocking a door to an office, so he stopped running and casually walked past her as he forced his breathing to be calm. She glanced at him. His hand gripped the gun that he hid in his pocket. She opened the door and quickly entered to avoid him. Leech kept going.

  He went down the hallway and climbed through a window to a fire escape where he ascended two flights of stairs before entering another window and another hallway. It was quiet.

  He passed two doors and drew out his key, barely able to work it into the lock with his sweaty and trembling hands. Finally, it clicked open and he hurriedly slipped through the door and slammed it shut, sending an echo into the hallway. He was breathing heavily and sweat ran down his face. Backing away from the door, he pulled the gun from his jacket pocket and tossed it on the couch.

  He had just shot someone and there was the weapon.

  Leech buried his face in his hands, then raked them through his hair. He then went to the other side of the living room and peered out the window. He didn’t see anyone. He was too fast and took too many turns to be followed.

  Leech turned around and slowly walked over to a mirror; for the briefest of moments, he thought he saw another face looking back at him. He blinked hard and examined his reflection. A couple beads of sweat moved down his temple. He went to the kitchen sink and splashed his face with water, then peered outside through the window.

  His heart was still racing but his hands were shaking less. He moved to the door and peered through the peephole. Nothing. He listened. Only silence. He waited by the door for a few minutes, then checked again. Still nothing. If anyone knocked on the door he could quickly wipe the gun clean of fingerprints and toss it out the window. He listened. Everything was quiet.

  “I did it. I passed the test,” he said to himself. “I did it.”

  He realized the water was still running so he went to the sink and turned it off. In the quiet he heard three things: his own breathing, his heartbeat, and the faint sound of a distant siren. It is either the police or the paramedics—or both, he thought.

  For a moment a twinge of guilt rose up in his soul, but it was quickly suppressed by the demon.

  Leech went to the mirror again. The more he gazed, the more confident he became. He star
ted to feel powerful and self-assured. He looked into his own eyes. They were dark and bloodshot but he felt good. He smiled and savored his freedom and his guilt-free independence from manmade morals.

  “I did it,” he said with a smile. “I did it.”

  But what he could not see, looking out at him from within, was Grawl, a demon that had been cultivating Leech for years, finally possessing him three months ago. The man was now a willing slave, although he did not know that he was.

  Leech had long ago given himself over to the depravity of his own heart and mind, seeking sensuous pleasures, drugs, and power. He had learned to deny God’s existence and felt the false freedom that comes from that lie. Grawl had tweaked his mind and whispered in his ear for years, gradually influencing Leech to move further and further into darkness, and now the man had just shot someone. And what was better still, he felt no remorse.

  Leech looked at his face in the mirror and reflected on how easy it was to shoot the boy. He felt powerful. “Morals are for the weak,” he said contemptuously, and then he chuckled. A drop of water fell from his chin. He liked what he was feeling.

  “I feel so free,” he said with a smile.

  He stood still and listened. The sirens outside suddenly stopped and he knew that he was the cause of the turmoil. He knew they were helpless to find him. It was so easy. It had been a clean, point-blank shot.

  Inside him, Grawl, intertwined in the man’s mind, was experiencing every thought and feeling that Leech did. Likewise, Leech could feel the desires of the demon, though only in a dull way. With nothing more than the exertion of its own will Grawl was able to manipulate Leech’s thoughts. It spoke through the man, “They are fools.”

  Leech listened to his words and smiled again. He knew they were all helpless reactionaries who scrambled to pick up the pieces left over by his powerful actions. It felt good to savor the memory of the shooting and realize that he felt no remorse, no guilt. Inside, the demon resided, watching, controlling him, yet making him think that it was he who was in control. The demon liked it. Leech felt good.

  Grawl was a dirty greenish, bony demon with growling yellow eyes sunk deep in its skull. It was sinewy, with tendons stretched across thin leathery skin. Its wings were compressed, folded and wrapped around its own chest so as to be fully encased within Leech’s body. Talons protruded from its hands, and claws extended from its feet, curling downward. It used them to anchor itself in the body of the man. The demon resided in its human host with its arms stretched down the length of Leech’s arms and likewise its own legs stretched down into his legs. Its head was in his head and its mind in his. The demon saw what Leech saw and felt what he felt. What it thought would be his thoughts, and whatever Leech thought, the demon knew. Leech’s possession was complete. He was an ignorant slave who believed himself to be free and in control of his own life.

  The demon turned its head, walked over to the window, and looked outside. It listened. It could see the faint reflections of red flashing lights off a building three blocks away. It had manifested its will through Leech and relished the idea of accomplishing more through its slave. The demon walked Leech over to the refrigerator and opened the door. Although it was in control, the man needed to eat and it would do no good to the demon to starve him to death. As exceedingly tempting as that prospect was, the demon had worked far too hard and long to gain its possession. No, it was not time to kill him yet. There was much more to be done with the man. Besides, there would be plenty of time in the future after his death to feed off his soul. The demon was extremely pleased. It smiled.

  Leech smiled as he looked in the refrigerator. He thought he would celebrate with a beer, a reward for his bravery. Besides, it would help to calm his nerves.

  ***

  Traffic wasn’t too bad. Kathy maneuvered through the streets, following the blurred memories of previous visits. With only one wrong turn, she managed to find her father’s place. After letting herself in, she found the guest room and unpacked her suitcase. She went into the kitchen, intent on making a sandwich. But her father, not the neatest person in the world, had left the place in a condition not quite up to her standards. She smiled. “Same old dad.” She cleaned up before finally fixing some food and then headed out to the living room, where she flipped on the TV and propped her feet up on the sofa. She reached over and grabbed the phone to dial home.

  ***

  After drinking their water, Mark had excused himself to use the bathroom upstairs. Sotare settled down at the kitchen table. Mark was a little tired, so he took his time as he carried out the mundane biological functions of life while reviewing the facts concerning Sotare, Nomos, the demons, and everything else he could remember. It was difficult at times to follow Sotare’s teaching, to absorb the new truths, and make it all fit. He looked in the bathroom mirror. The man staring back at him had changed. It wasn’t visible on the outside but it was incredibly obvious to him.

  Sotare was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting patiently, when he heard Mark’s footsteps.

  “The phone is going to ring,” said Sotare. “Your wife is calling. Are you going to tell her about me?”

  Mark glanced at the phone and back at Sotare. With a slightly confused look, he wanted to ask Sotare how he knew this.

  “Sometimes we know what’s going to happen,” responded Sotare preemptively and with a smile.

  Mark accepted the explanation without further inquiry. “Well,” replied Mark cautiously, trying to go with the flow. “I don’t think I’ll tell her. After all, she’d probably think I was crazy.”

  The phone rang. Mark looked at it, then back at Sotare, before picking it up. “Hello?”

  “Hi, hon. It’s me. I’m calling to see how you’re doing and to let you know how Dad is.”

  “I’m doing very well,” said Mark as he looked at Sotare again. “Things are going great here and I’m feeling like a new man.” He changed his gaze to the garden, clearly visible through the kitchen window.

  “I’m really glad to hear that.” Her voice had an obvious tone of relief. “I’ve been worried about you, and with Dad the way he is, well, it’s all been a little stressful.”

  “I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but things will be fine. But trust me. I am doing so much better now.” He glanced at Sotare, who was sitting at the table examining a salt shaker. “So many things are beginning to make sense and I have an awful lot to tell you when you get back. So don’t worry. I’m doing great.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “I mean, I don’t want to upset you by questioning you over and over again, but— well, you know, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  Mark smiled at the humbling love of his wife. It was comforting as well as reassuring. “Honey, you know that I love you and that I have always been truthful with you. So please believe me when I tell you that I am doing so much better. I’m not in denial. I really needed this time alone to get my head on straight.” He looked back at Sotare. I’m not really alone, he thought.

  “That’s great. I’m so happy to hear that. I have to admit, you do sound better.”

  “See? There you go.”

  She decided to change the topic. “Well, Dad is doing much better. I’m surprised at how quickly he is healing, and he might be home from the hospital tomorrow. At least, that’s the rumor. I was hoping it would be today, but it’ll probably be tomorrow.” She yawned. “Anyway, I’m at his place resting. I fixed myself a sandwich and was going to take a nap. But before I did, I wanted to call you.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  She continued. “But, you know something, Dad’s pastor came into the hospital room to pray for him and the weirdest thing happened. As he was leaving, he turned around and told us that you were very important. I mean, it was the weirdest thing. There we were, sitting in the hospital, and he came in and prayed for Dad and then, out of the blue, he just starts talking about you. I mean, it was so strange.”

  Mark looked at Sotare who was nodding a
t him knowingly. “Yeah, that is strange.” Mark tried a little humor. “Well, I always thought I was really important.”

  “You sure are important to me,” she said.

  “And you are to me, too.”

  Each paused as they both enjoyed the love they had for one another. Sotare understood this bond even though he was an angel. He sat there and watched Mark and found himself intrigued by the husband-wife relationship that he had seen so many thousands of times throughout his long life. Marriage is a privilege, he thought to himself. It is a wonderful thing, such intimacy and fellowship. Sotare looked out the window into the garden. He could just see Nomos, who still stood in the same place. Above him, not too far away, Nabal remained vigilant, but still and quiet.

  He looked around the kitchen and through the walls into the home as he waited for Mark to finish his conversation. He did not want to appear rude by eavesdropping, so he motioned to Mark that he would be in the garden. Mark nodded and smiled.

  Sotare disappeared and was in the garden in a moment. He looked back through the foliage, through the kitchen wall, and kept his eye on his charge.

  After fifteen minutes of chitchat, Mark hung up the phone. He turned and looked out the kitchen window. Beyond its glass, among the trees, the flowers, and the bushes were angels and demons.

  He was about to walk back into the clutter of newly discovered truths. But he waited, staring out the window. It was a new world out there. He purposefully and slowly took a deep breath. Putting his hands to his face, he rubbed his eyes and leaned against the kitchen counter. He took another deep breath.

  “Here we go again,” he muttered as he headed towards the back door.

  He pulled it open and once again walked the short path through the garden, where Sotare was patiently waiting, seated in the gazebo. Mark sat down opposite him.

  “Was talking to your wife helpful?”

  “Yes, it was. It is always good to hear from her when she’s away.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “You mind if I ask you a personal question?”