The Reaping: Language of the Liar

by Angella Graff

  She let out a hollow laugh and shook her head. “He won’t let me go. He would rather I die than see me free of him.” She rubbed her hand down her face and took a shaking breath. “You need to kill me. If you want to stop him, kill me.”

  Lennox’s face went hard. “I’m not doing anything of the sort.”

  “But Dash—”

  “Will bloody well agree with me the moment he regains consciousness.” Standing up, Lennox turned on his heel and marched up the stairs, returning minutes later with arms full of comforters and pillows from the upstairs room. He readjusted Dash, covering him up, then made a pile and beckoned Dorian over. For the moment, she refused to move.

  “Keeping me here like this is too dangerous. What if he gets back in?”

  “Markus gave me that spell,” Lennox said, nodding to her arms. “He won’t be able to come near you for a while. And I’ve got others on their way. You’re not going down without a fight.”

  Dorian’s throat tightened and her arms clenched around her knees even harder. “Why? Why are you being so stubborn?”

  “Because you have power,” Lennox spat. “Power most humans don’t, and we need you. And I’m not going to let another demon destroy another person if I can help it.”

  Dorian breathed, feeling a strange sense of relief to hear him say it was the power. She had it, they needed it. So her life was worth something to them. “How can you not blame me for hurting you? For hurting Dash?”

  “Because we knew what we were getting into.” The sound of Dash’s broken voice startled them both, and Lennox scrambled across the cold floor to where his broken boyfriend lay fallen. Dorian crept over after a moment, scared to get too close to him lest Nic find a way to break this spell and finish the job. “We’ve been hurt before. We’ve lost friends and family to botched exorcisms. We had no delusions walking into this ritual tonight.”

  “He’s right,” Lennox said. “It’s never easy, but this is our life.”

  “That’s stupid,” Dorian spat, her head shaking. “So stupid. You had an easier way out.”

  Dash let out a broken laugh, grimacing as he tried to shift his head to the side. “What? Murder? You think murder is the easy way out?”

  “Why not? You exorcise people all the time knowing full well they won’t make it out alive. Mercy killings. Why not me? So what if I have power? There have to be others like me.”

  Lennox looked at Dash, then back at Dorian. “Maybe. And I get your self-deprecation. Growing up having been dealt shit cards, thinking your life is worthless. But when we do our job, we do it to save people. And that includes you.”

  Letting out a breath, Dorian knew it was no use arguing with them. If they called their little conclave of Exorcists, they’d go through the ritual again and maybe this time they’d end up killing her. Or maybe Nic would have the power to destroy them all. Either way, it would end with blood and violence.

  She sat back as Lennox stoked up the fire, putting more broken wood on the top, then he moved back to Dash’s side. She examined Dash’s face. The gashes had stopped bleeding, and his arm looked dislocated.

  “Markus is on his way. He’ll get you sorted.” Lennox reached out and stroked a hand down Dash’s cheek.

  Dash let out a breath and gave Lennox a broken smile. “All well and good, love, but I think I’m out of the game.” He shifted his head and looked anywhere but at Dorian when he said, “Can’t feel my legs. Nothing past the hips.”

  There was a collective silence, thick and heavy, and then Lennox let out a frustrated growl, his fist making contact with the concrete. “Fuck!”

  “Don’t!” Dash tried to sit up, but hissed in pain and fell back down. “Please. Please just… don’t.”

  Dorian felt her heart clench at the realization that while it might have been Nic, it was her body which had done this to Dash. The implications of his injury, the idea it could be permanent and forever, that she could have destroyed his ability to do his job, was overwhelming. She started shaking, her breathing coming in heaving gasps, and she began to back up until she hit the far wall.

  “Dorian,” Lennox said, his voice sharp, “you need to calm down.”

  Her eyes flared wide. “Are you kidding? Calm down! You want me to calm down when I fucking… when I…”

  “You didn’t do this,” Lennox said, hitting the floor again with his fist. “This wasn’t you. You have to understand that!”

  She forced herself to take in slow, short breaths, and she covered her face with her hands. “I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough. I can’t…”

  After a moment, Dorian felt hands on the sides of her face, and she looked up. Lennox was crouched in front of her, holding out a white pill and a bottle of water. “Take this. It’s an opiate.”

  Her fingers trembled as she plucked the pill from his hands and took it without question. A small, secret part of her hoped it was something stronger. Strong enough to end it. Because having to live with the thought of what Nic had done, what her body had done, was just too much to bear.

  ***

  Whatever the drug was, it worked with a vengeance. Dorian was out within minutes, and didn’t wake until morning. She found herself curled up on an air mattress under the window in the main living room. The sun shining on her face was hot, making her sweat, and when she sat up, she felt dirty and ached from head to toe.

  She also heard a cacophony of voices in the other room, which set her on edge. The more people who were around, the more danger they would be in if Nic broke free. She still had the symbols on her skin, and the amulets woven around her wrists, but she didn’t feel safe. Not anymore.

  Sitting up, she pushed her hair out of her face, feeling desperate for a shower, but she had to see what was going on. She was a little self-conscious by her state of dress, but strolled into the kitchen to find Lennox sitting at the table with two men and a woman she didn’t recognize.

  The men were taller than Lennox, older with salt and pepper hair, crow’s feet wrinkling the sides of their eyes, and both shared similar brown eyes and pointed noses. The one who looked older rose as Dorian came in, and he extended his hand. “You must be the new girl.”

  Dorian backed up away from him, hugging her middle. She no longer cared for propriety and manners when lives were at stake. “What’s going on?”

  “This is Markus,” Lennox said, pointing to the man who was still sitting. “And his brother Matias.”

  “Call me Mat, please,” he said, his voice tinged with an unfamiliar accent. It sounded vaguely Germanic, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “I understand you all had a very long night last night.”

  “Dorian, why don’t you have a seat?” Lennox offered. He nodded to the empty seat next to the woman. She was young, barely a teenager it seemed, with cropped brown hair and serious, amber colored eyes. She was watching Dorian like a hawk, and Dorian got the impression she was definitely more than she seemed.

  “Look, I don’t want…”

  “We have some of our strongest spells here right now,” Markus said as he gestured to the empty seat. “You don’t have to worry for the moment.”

  Letting out a breath, she finally walked to the table, pulled the chair out, and tried to keep herself as far from them as she could. “So is this about the botched exorcism or Dash?”

  Lennox winced at the sound of his boyfriend’s name, and Dorian felt her heart clench. “He’s being treated now. We have our best people on the job.”

  “He’ll recover,” the girl at the table said.

  Lennox blinked in surprise, then said, “Oh. Forgive me. Dorian, this is Adelaide. She’s our resident Seeker.”

  Frowning, Dorian looked at her and was surprised to find half their staff was made up of people so young. She looked like she should be in a middle school math class right now. “Nice to meet you. You handle the spell work and stuff?”

  “Amongst other things,” Adelaide said. She spoke with an air of knowledge which made Dorian feel uncomfort
able. It was like Adelaide could see into her head, and she didn’t like it. “I’m here to assess you, and then organize a proper exorcism.”

  Dorian’s eyes went wide. “You seriously think doing that all over again is a good idea?”

  “No one thinks we should replicate last night,” Markus said, holding up his hand. “Lennox and Dash went against my explicit orders to hold off on your exorcism, and they suffered the consequences.”

  Dorian flinched, her head shaking. “Are you calling what happened to Dash a consequence?”

  “That’s exactly what it was. He knew the risks.” Matias’ voice was hard, and his stare was leveled at Lennox who was staring down at his hands.

  Dorian felt her anger rising, and as it did, the marks on her arms began to burn. “You’re telling me Dash knew he could be paralyzed for life if things didn’t go the right way.”

  “I’m telling you he’s seen first-hand what can go wrong if he doesn’t follow protocol,” Matias replied tersely. “He’s seen Exorcists blinded, driven mad, catatonic, limbs ripped from bodies, faces burned. He’s seen them killed on the spot by demons with more power than they were equipped to handle. I’ve been warning him for days about your demon companion, and they both jumped the gun. He’s lucky to come away from this alive.”

  “And paralyzed,” Dorian pressed. “Forever.”

  “But alive,” Lennox cut in, his gaze snapping up to her. “Dash is grateful for what he’s got.”

  She felt bile rising in her throat, and she pushed away from the table, rising to her feet. “I can’t believe you’re saying all this. After what I did, you still want to go through with this psychotic plan…”

  “We want to help you,” Markus interrupted, his voice calm and collected. “The only way we can do that is to exorcise the thing which has a hold of you. And the only way to exorcise something so powerful is to do it with a conclave of Exorcists who are trained.”

  Licking her lips, Dorian crossed her arms. “So you know who he is? Nic? You know what he is?”

  “I’ve been able to locate him,” Adelaide said, her voice quiet but piercing the tension between everyone in the room. “It wasn’t easy. He didn’t want to be found.”

  Markus reached under the table and pulled out a small briefcase. Setting it down, he popped the latches and pulled out a small manila folder stuffed full of papers with drawings, copies of written text, and several documents which looked like they came from websites.

  He dug around until he found a crude sketch, and he pushed it toward Dorian. “Is this him?”

  Her heart leapt into her throat. The sketch was amateur, muddy in some places, but it was him. From the flowing hair to the eyes, and thin claws which loved to draw her blood. It was him. Dressed in his white clothes, the gleaming fangs seemed to jump off the page at her, and unable to help herself, she gave the paper a shove back toward Markus.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “As I said, I was able to locate him. He’s been jumping realms with a small army for the past several decades, but he’s been staying close to earth, close to you.” Adelaide steepled her fingers, touching the tips to her chin. “He’s a very powerful demon, one of the most powerful we’ve seen take a human. It’s probably why you’re still coherent. He’s educated, able to coexist with you without destroying your mind. But it also means he knows how to fight us. It’s why they weren’t able to contain him.”

  Letting out a puff of air, Dorian sank back into her chair and stared at the stack of papers. “And all that? Information on him?”

  “And you,” Markus said, closing the folder. “There’s something at play here, Dorian, and we’re trying to figure out what it is. That Priest you were working for, he’s had our men followed, and I don’t like that.”

  Dorian’s cheeks went pink. “Nic said Father Stone wanted to hurt me. That he was after me for some reason.”

  “I don’t doubt it. But I also don’t know why. We’re looking into it and believe me, if there’s something to find, we’ll find it.”

  Dorian deflated a bit. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe them, but in the end, did it matter? So what if they found out Father Stone’s motivations? If she was still vulnerable to Nic, she was a danger to them all, and it only left her with one option. She believed they had faith in their exorcism, but twenty-four hours wasn’t a risk she wanted to take. She could feel Nic fighting against the wards, trying to claw his way back into her head, and she couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else getting hurt.

  “Is it safe for me to shower?” She displayed the rust-brown bloodstains on her hands with a grimace. “I know the symbols are important but…”

  “You’re fine,” Lennox said. “The marks are a spell. It’ll take more than a bottle of soap to wash them away.”

  With a nod, she left the kitchen, the whispers of the group following her up the stairs. The guilt of what she’d done was overwhelming. And no matter how much they reminded her it had been Nic, not her, she couldn’t accept that. It was still her body, her hands, and Dash was injured for the rest of his life. There would be no recovering from that. Not really.

  As she walked into the bedroom, her head spun and she was struck with a flash of memory. Staring behind her own eyes, not in control of her own limbs. She could hear the echo of her laugh as her hands closed around Dash’s torso and she flung him down. The sickening crack of his spine ripped through the room, and her knees went weak.

  She grabbed on to the door handle as she forced herself to breathe, shoving the memory away. Her stomach was twisted and aching, and she fought the urge to lose what little she had in there all over the carpet.

  The desire to wash away the blood from her body was overwhelming now, and she groped blindly for her bags, dragging them down the hall and into the bathroom. She turned the water on as hot as it would go, and she shed her clothes, shoving them into the furthest corner of the room.

  The water was cold when she stepped under the stream, but it didn’t take long for it to turn scalding hot. It burned, ached, but it wasn’t worse than what she felt inside. She used almost the entire bottle of soap perched on the edge of the shelf and she scrubbed with a wash cloth until her skin was red and raw.

  Everything hurt. From inside to outside. The symbols remained on her arms, and although the blood and dirt washed down the drain, she felt dirty. Tainted. In all her life, during all her blackouts, she’d never caused devastation like this. She’d never destroyed someone’s life. Unable to hold back anymore, she doubled over, unleashing a torrent of yellow, ugly bile. Her stomach clenched, heaving, and she sobbed as she gripped the handle on the shower door.

  Tears mixed with the drops of water, and as she stood up, her entire body was shaking. The ache from the hot water was becoming too much, so she shut off the stream and stepped out. Pulling herself together as best she could, she dressed in the first thing she could find from her suitcase, took several deep breaths, then walked into the bedroom.

  She had one mission, and one mission only. She knew Dash kept everything in his carry bags and she had a feeling she’d know it when she saw it. The Other Option. The one he told her she would have if the exorcism didn’t work. Something that would let her just go to sleep and not wake up again.

  It was the only way, really.

  Finding the bags piled near the closet, Dorian bent down and tried to keep as quiet as she could. She unzipped the first bag, finding it full of amulets, trinkets, daggers, things they’d use in spells. The second bag had powders and supplies, but not what she was looking for.

  Letting out a frustrated sigh, she reached for the third bag when the bedroom door opened, and she spun around, her face going red with guilt. Briar stood in the doorway, her face drawn, one hand on her hip.

  “Lose something?”

  Dorian swallowed, her head shaking back and forth as she rose, taking a step away from the Reaper. “Look, you know as well as I do, there’s only one way out of this.”

  Bri
ar blinked at her, then cracked a smile. “Is that so?”

  “You saw what I did!” Dorian burst out. “You saw the basement. You saw Dash. I…”

  Crossing the room. Briar went to the bed, reached down for a small carrying case, and pulled out a hairbrush. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she patted the spot beside her and beckoned Dorian over. “You know how I told you about the two morons who exorcised me?”

  “Yeah. The ones who died?”

  Briar nodded, saying nothing until Dorian gave in and crossed the room. When she tried to sit on the bed, Briar gave her a shove down on to the floor, situating Dorian between her knees, and picked up the brush.

  “Well my story’s a little more complicated than that. See, my situation was a lot like yours. I was having trouble hanging on during my possessions. I’d go weeks without being conscious, and when I was awake, I could hear them. The demons. I could hear them talking and laughing and plotting. I thought that was it for me. My schizophrenia was going to be the end of me. Then I was exorcised, and after I became a Reaper, I met Pearl and Evie.”

  Dorian tried to turn her head to look at Briar, but the Reaper shoved her back and began to run the brush through her tangles.

  “Part of me feels like this isn’t my place to say anything, even if it is my story.” Briar sighed and paused as she worked a large knot in the back of Dorian’s head. “Pearl was a really amazing Exorcist. She’d been found before she was possessed, but it was a near miss. She was a little more powerful than the others because of that. She was also Lennox’s mother.”

  Dorian didn’t miss the past tense language, and her head bowed forward a bit. “And Evie?”

  “His sister.” Briar paused and Dorian could hear the smile in her voice. “I have no idea how he came out such a moron, because those two were amazing. Evie was a Reaper, like me. Couple years older, she was saved from possession when she was nine, so she had years of training before I was even tying my own shoes. She was good, too. One of the best.”