Each breath was quick, short, and hard. Her body was tense.
Her mind could not comprehend what was happening. She felt on the verge of panic, but Crasak skillfully held it in check in order to increase its final and sudden release.
“The killer is behind you. He is reaching for you.”
A chaotic tornado of emotions was twisting her mind into a knot, forcing her instincts to the surface. Crasak knew it was about to lose control so it screamed, “He is going to kill you! Run! Run!”
Kathy began to shake. Her head bobbed downward, then jerked back up. She managed to force out a muffled, weak groan. She closed her eyes and then opened them wide. Her heart hammered against her chest. Adrenaline poured into her veins. Kathy blinked hard, shaking her head, almost convulsing. She was fighting.
Crasak yelled, “The murderer is behind you,” Kathy shuddered again.
She wanted to scream.
“His hands are on you! He is here. He is going to kill you!”
Kathy began to straighten her legs, which pressed her back into the couch. Then, finally, with great effort she forced out one word, “No.”
The demon’s grip was giving way.
“No,” she cried again. “No.”
With that, Crasak released itself from her and, in an instant, it left Kathy’s body and placed itself directly in front of her.
There was nothing to stop the eruption. The sudden release of her mind and will allowed all the pent-up terror to detonate. It was like a shock wave that carried with it emotional debris as it scraped across her mind and heart and swept her into the realm of pure panic.
She screamed at the top of her lungs.
In that instant, Crasak reached back into her mind and tweaked her vision center so that it became visible to her for a split second.
At the same time Kathy had already begun to bolt up from the couch and, as she did, for one fleeting moment she saw the hideous creature inches from her face. It flashed into her consciousness almost imperceptibly, yet it was real, and terrifyingly ugly. The shock was too much. Her long, hard scream stopped. Her eyes rolled back and, like a rag doll, she fell, slamming her head on the corner of the coffee table.
Pain ripped through her skull. She struggled against the pain and panic, fighting the blackness that was overcoming her sight. Her mind drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness. Pain came and went, as did the light and dark. Then everything went black.
Crasak smiled and took a step closer. It knelt down and put its face just above hers. Rotting saliva dripped through her mind. She began to move. Crasak smiled and lowered its face closer. With both hands close together, it slowly began its reach into her brain. It opened its fanged mouth wider as it drew closer, closer.
A streak of white crashed into Crasak and sent it tumbling through the living room wall and into the yard outside. Dazed, it tried to recover but quickly found that Ramah had gripped it around the chest and neck and was digging his fingers into its throat with all his strength. The evil spirit fought, growling and clawing at the angel. It kicked ferociously and tried to beat him with its wings, but Ramah had Crasak from behind and was locked on the demon’s back. The demon fought fiercely. It bucked, kicked, and clawed at the angel, but Ramah held on. Crasak grabbed his arm and dug its talons deep. Ramah ignored the pain and began to crush Crasak’s throat, but the demon was too strong. It kicked violently and clawed at Ramah’s hands until finally it was able to force itself free. They broke apart, but Ramah instantly thrust himself at the demon again. Crasak punched at his head. Ramah turned just enough to deflect most of the force, returning with a crushing blow to Crasak’s face. He grabbed the demon’s wing with both hands and quickly broke the main bone in it. Crasak growled in pain, twisted, and then kicked Ramah in the chest. The angel fell back a few feet, giving the demon enough time to thrust its hands forward and downward as it descended into the earth.
Ramah did not follow but immediately turned his attention to Kathy. He knelt beside her. Was she alive? He checked her neck and felt the artery pulsing rapidly. There was a nasty bump on her left temple. He put his hand on it and slowly removed it as if caressing her head. She moved a bit, moaned, and blinked.
Ramah knelt down and looked into her eyes. The panic, which had been temporarily silenced by unconsciousness, rumbled to life as she regained her senses. When she opened her eyes, it came forth like a volcano.
He backed away.
The memory of the fear and hideous image erupted in a terrifying tangle. She started to kick and scream. She pushed the coffee table over as she flailed her arms about.
Ramah spoke out loud, “It is okay. You are all right. You are safe.”
Kathy shrieked and squirmed on the ground, blindly groping in the air.
The angel spread his wings over her and spoke into her ear, “You are safe. You are okay. It is over. You are safe now.” He put a hand on her chest.
Kathy was still screaming, but the angel’s touch had an immediate effect. Even though the fading remnants of terror were still strong, the panic decreased and her mind began to clear.
Ramah continued to speak with a soft and comforting voice, “You are safe. You are safe. It is okay. There is no danger. Relax. Calm down.”
“You are all right. You are safe,” whispered Ramah repeatedly. His words soothed her and the panic quickly melted away. Finally, she was able to force herself to calm down, although her chest continued to heave with each breath.
“Calm down. Everything is okay. You are in no danger.”
Kathy felt the effect of his calming words as they washed over her, ministering to her. Her breathing slowed and she let her legs fall flat on the floor as she stared upward. After a minute more, she managed to steady her breathing. She lay there. Ramah moved away.
Then, quite naturally, she began to cry. At first she convulsed slightly with each sob, but they soon gave way to full, rhythmic heaves. One after another, they came, accompanied by groaning wails. She put her hands over her strained face. She coughed out moans and sobs and wept hard. The tears poured down her temples and into her hair.
Ramah watched, paining over her ordeal.
She cried for a while lying there, venting her emotions until her strength was finally spent. She was able to take one final huge, cleansing breath before regaining full composure.
She rubbed her scalp and jerked her fingers away at the painful throb. Then she managed to sit and look around.
“No one is here,” said Ramah. “No one is here.” His voice was masculine, but also soft with a soothing, comfortable resonance.
Kathy felt herself grow inexplicably calm.
“You are all right,” said Ramah.
Then, as if the last tear of her life had finally fallen, the urge to cry completely stopped. Her mind cleared. With both hands she whipped her hair back over her head, then slowly got up and sat on the couch.
What happened? she asked herself.
It certainly wasn’t normal. She couldn’t explain it, and she had no previous experience with which to compare it. But she knew something strange had happened. The TV caught her attention. She forced herself to watch a commercial for a local car dealership and let herself relax, even though her body was still trembling slightly from her recent surge of adrenaline. She slowly, laboriously stood up and looked around. Her breathing shuddered twice. Her heart was still pounding, but not quite so violently as before. She walked back into the kitchen and retrieved the knife before going back to the living room. She felt better with it in her hand. The TV was the only sound she heard. She grabbed the remote and punched the off button. Silence seemed to fill the house. Her eyes and ears were attuned to survival mode, aided by the remaining adrenaline coursing through her system. She stood there, shaking slightly, pointing the knife forward, and looking around cautiously. She believed she was alone, but that nagging doubt wouldn’t leave.
She headed for the front door to make sure it was locked, then went into the hallway, from
which she proceeded to search every room for an intruder once again, leaving lights on everywhere, even in the garage. The place was empty. Everything was clear.
Back in the living room, she examined the overturned coffee table. She touched her temple again and a shard of pain forced her hand away. There was no blood, but there was a very tender lump. She glanced back at the coffee table and the corner where she hit. Suddenly, the image of Crasak’s ugly form flashed into her mind again. She responded in revulsion and cried out, “No,” as she forced her eyes shut and tried to will the image away. It persisted. She dropped the knife on the floor and grabbed her head in both hands, twisting her hair with her fingers. The urge to cry returned once more and a few tears managed to run down her cheeks, falling onto her blouse. Then, like a ruptured barrier, their presence signaled the coming flood. She began to sob.
Ramah stood by and looked into the spiritual world to see if any other dangers were approaching. There were none. He placed his hand near Kathy’s forehead. “You will be okay,” he said aloud. His voice was soothing, full of care and compassion. “You are all right, Kathy. You are all right. You are safe.”
Kathy’s sobs subsided into cries and in a few short minutes, they were reduced to an occasional whimper, until they disappeared altogether. She looked around the house again to reassure herself that she was alone. Walking over to the coffee table, she set it upright. Then she sat down on the couch, and for several quiet minutes, she gathered her thoughts.
“Mark would think that I am the one falling to pieces,” she said to the empty room. The urge to call him was strong, but she knew it was not a good idea. Not now. She didn’t want to worry him and add to his stress. Besides, he’d think she was crazy for sure. She’d tell him what happened, but not now, not until he was better.
She let her head fall back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. It made no sense. Why the panic? Why the memories? And that face, that horrible face. Was it all her imagination? She shuddered as she remembered the experience. She grabbed the remote and turned on the TV again, pulling the covers up on the couch and propping her feet up on its cushions.
She glanced at the clock. It was approaching 11 p.m. Her father would be asleep. Anyway, she had neglected to jot down the number for his bedside phone and she was sure that the hospital switchboard wouldn’t put her call through at this hour. She wanted to talk to him, but that would have to wait until morning. She stared at the phone and thought again about calling Mark.
My dad will believe me, she thought, but Mark sure won’t.
Chapter 7
MARK AND SOTARE SAT in the dark, their faces faintly lit by the moonlight. The droop of Mark’s eyelids betrayed his fatigue.
“It’s late,” said Sotare. “You need rest.”
“Yes, you’re right. This is all very demanding and my brain feels like mush.” He stretched in his seat and looked at Sotare, who smiled at him. Mark got up, surprised at how willing he was for the evening to end.
“Tomorrow is Saturday. I’ve always loved Saturdays,” he said as he looked absentmindedly into the garden. Mark took a few steps out of the gazebo and turned back to Sotare, but the angel was gone. He looked around and then up to the treetop and imagined that Nabal was watching him. He averted his eyes and dismissed the thought as he headed towards the back door. The full moon cast weak shadows on the ground. At the house, Mark took one last look at the garden and went inside.
He rummaged through the refrigerator and found some leftovers. After eating and cleaning up, he headed towards the living room and thought about watching TV. It seemed pointless. The place was so empty without Kathy there, especially now. He looked into the kitchen, the hallway, and out through the front window. A car passed by. Across the street, a tree full of leaves rustled softly in the wind, its movement barely perceptible under the moonlight. Everything seemed normal.
He walked down the hall and into his office. His computer was off. He saw the phone next to it and thought about calling Kathy but figured that she would either be tired or asleep. He remembered how Sotare had said she would come under attack. Not being able to be there for her made him feel all the more helpless and alone, even though he knew he was not.
“Sotare?” he said aloud. “Thank you for speaking with me.”
He waited for a moment but heard no response. I wonder if he heard me, thought Mark.
He walked down the hallway and back into the living room. The TV didn’t hold any interest for him, and he was sure the radio wouldn’t either. So he just stood in the living room, not sure what to do. He thought about Kathy and about John in the hospital. He wanted to talk to them both about what he was experiencing. John might believe him, but he was certain Kathy wouldn’t.
He headed upstairs to his bedroom and to the closet. He tossed his shirt into the clothes hamper, kicked off his shoes, and took off his slacks. As he pulled his robe off its hanger, something fell from the shelf above and slapped on the floor. It was a Bible.
Mark stared at the cover. “Did you do that?” asked Mark as he glanced out the window towards the garden. He tossed the robe over his shoulder, picked it up, and headed to the bed, where he lay down and propped his head on the pillow. He flipped open the cover to the first few pages and found the table of contents: the list of books of the Bible was long and he had no idea where to turn to. He had attended a couple of churches a few months ago in his search for spiritual insight and someone had given this to him. He had looked at it before and found nothing of particular interest so he had tossed it. Kathy must have put it up on the shelf along with the other stack of books that were infrequently used. But now, considering everything that had been going on, he thought he’d look at it again.
Mark read the first few chapters of Genesis and then skipped around. He read a little about Jesus and then went through a couple of Psalms. A lot of it made no sense, although there were some obviously wise teachings within the pages. He was familiar with a lot of it from various TV shows he had seen over the years. He was glad for that. After about half an hour, he was too tired to continue, so he put the book on the nightstand and headed into the bathroom to get cleaned up. It wasn’t too long before he was back in bed and under the covers.
The ceiling seemed like a familiar companion as he lay there in the dark, staring upwards. He looked out the window at the two trees in the garden. They were still. He knew Nabal was there, at least he assumed he was there. The memory of that hideous creature disturbed him, so he pulled his mind away from it and turned his back on the window, idly stroking the pillow on Kathy’s side of the bed, then cradling it in his arm. Kathy’s favorite scent was still fresh on the case.
From outside, Nabal watched him. The creature had orders to observe and report to Paraptome. So it waited.
On both sides of the bed stood Sotare and Nomos. Nabal hissed at them.
***
Leech paced nervously around the apartment for a couple of hours, halfway expecting a knock on the door and the police to come and take him away. The demon in him caused him to feel confident and secure in his actions, so he quickly became convinced that no one would connect him to the shooting. It had been dark and he’d left too quickly for anyone to identify him. The ghetto was a safe place to hide. With another self-assuring smile he decided to settle down and watch TV, finally deciding on a horror movie.
Grawl was savoring its accomplishment through its human host. Shooting the boy had driven Leech’s soul deeper into darkness, making it that much easier for the demon to control him. Grawl stared out through the man’s eyes and practiced moving them. Possession took effort but, once accomplished, the spirit of Grawl and the spirit of the man were intertwined. Grawl could direct him. It was a kind of symbiosis, moving together, and Leech never suspected that he was being influenced. Grawl’s goal was to gradually control the man’s thinking so much that he would be completely under its control, all the while letting the man think he was free. Grawl laughed.
Leech thought
the horror movie was funny and laughed out loud. “This is great,” he said.
Grawl reached for the remote control. Leech changed the channel.
Grawl led the man, testing him, seeing to what extent he could influence and control its human host now that a new level of treachery had been accomplished. Leech was flipping through the channels. Grawl decided to return to the horror movie. Leech went back to it. Grawl smiled and so did Leech. Grawl looked out the window and listened. The commotion outside had faded. Leech knew that the police would file a report, and a few questions might be asked, but in the ghetto, shootings were rarely solved because no one ever saw anything. It was a success for the evil forces in this area.
The demon continued to explore the mind of its host. It felt what Leech felt, experienced what Leech experienced. That is why it sensed pain, a feeling of both sickness and hunger as the pangs of drug addiction manifested themselves in the man’s body. Leech shifted in his seat and knew that he needed a fix, and soon. He got up, went to his bedroom, looked under the mattress, and retrieved a small plastic bag of pills. He grabbed three and hurried to the kitchen, where he filled a dirty glass with water and swallowed them. Relief from the soft pain would come soon. The pills, he thought to himself, were merely an appetizer meant to take the edge off. He’d enjoy the main course, the injected drug of choice, a little later. Leech headed back to the living room and waited. He still felt good, even confident about what he’d done.
Paraptome had been watching from above before it finally, slowly descended into the living room. Leech was back to watching the movie, and Grawl was relishing every moment of its possession, unaware of the presence of the principality. Because Leech was not able to see the spiritual world, it would take time before Grawl, so deeply entwined in the body and soul of its host, could fully regain its own spirit-world awareness. But it was well worth the inconvenience. It might take months before it was able to train Leech’s mind to hear voices and see things and think they were normal.
The Influence (Supernatural Thriller) Page 18