“What silver lining could there possibly be for this?”
“Well, we may currently be trapped in a former church, surrounded by a bunch of demons that me and Chris have exorcised once before, and yes those demons are thirsty for our blood and were sent by the Devil himself, but it proves one thing without a shadow of a doubt.”
“And that is?”
“The work we do and the danger we put ourselves in, it isn't all for nothing.” Pete took another slurp of tea and smiled at Sarah, “We're really getting to the bastards.”
Sarah smiled.
“So, had any ideas about how we're going to get past that group of demonic bumpkins?” he asked. Sarah looked back outside to the horde.
“Not yet. We need to distract them somehow. Maybe long enough for one of us to get to your van. How we do that, though, is anyone’s guess.”
“So, we need a Hail Mary play then.”
“A what?”
“A Hail Mary play. It’s a sports term for a play made in desperation, with only a small chance of success.” Pete smiled and sipped his tea.
“Yes. We need something like that,” Sarah replied, and turned back to the window and the group outside. She focused on a malformed and vicious looking creature, no older than ten. She felt a chill go down her spine. She looked at Pete.
“Peter, may I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“How do you…” She paused, almost as if searching for the right words. “How do you both stay so calm at a time like this. I read about your previous cases, and some of them were hardly for the weak of constitution. So how do you put on such a brave face when all hope seems lost?”
“Crikey. That’s quite a statement. I wouldn't say all hope is lost just yet,” Pete replied.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—”
“I'm just messing with you, Sister. I know what you meant.” He took another sip of his tea. “When our mum died, Dad… he fell to pieces. Couldn't handle what had happened to her. How it ended. He was an absolute mess. Me and Chris tried to help him, but it was no use. Then one day Father Rhodes turned up and offered to look after us for a while, at least until Dad got better. He never said it, but I think Father Rhodes felt responsible for what happened. It wasn't his fault. It was nobody’s fault but the demon.”
His brash, joking nature seemed to have faded away slightly, and another layer of him had been revealed.
“They took Dad away to some hospital, and that was the last we saw of him. Rhodes brought us up, helped get us home schooling, all that jazz, and when the time came, he taught us all about how to deal with the evils we had seen. We've gotten used to putting on a brave face, Sister. I'd say it's the one thing that the Idol brothers do better than anyone else. Plus, those demons, they messed with our family. Tore it right in two. No matter what shit they throw at us, whatever depraved or insane stuff they do, we're not going to give them the satisfaction of scaring us. It's kind of our subconscious way of saying 'fuck you' to them all. Does that make sense?”
“Yes. It does.”
“Good. Now let’s get back to...”
Pete’s voice trailed off, and he was staring out at the front garden again. Sarah followed his gaze. The crowd of demonic mutated villagers were no longer calm, unmoving statues. Some of them had moved forward, so much so that they were past the front gate and on the patch of grass directly in front of the house. They were huddled together, fussing over something. It was impossible to see what was going on, but they were up to something.
“What are they doing?” Pete mumbled. It was loud enough to hear, but he was talking to himself more than anything.
Suddenly the pack of huddled figure opened up, and forcefully pushed something out onto the grass in front. It hit the soft turf with a thump. When they saw what it was, Sister Sarah was so shocked dropped her mug.
The woman looked to be in her early twenties, her hair pulled back in a ponytail that looked as if it had been through a hedge backwards, and she looked like she had been scratched, clawed and beaten. The tank top she wore was dirty, covered in tears and blood. That was shocking enough, but it wasn't what had made the nun drop her mug. It was the small bundle of rags that the beaten and bloodied woman held in the crook of her one good arm.
A baby.
“Help me!” she said, blood trickling from her cracked, broken lips. “Please god. Help me.”
She stumbled to her feet, and began to slowly limp towards the front of the house. Behind her, the crowd of demonic villagers hissed and jeered, looking like they were ready to pounce on her for the kill.
“Someone please help me!” the woman cried, tears streaming down her face as she stumbled ever closer to sanctuary. It was a sadistic sight, and Pete could no longer bear it.
“We've got to do something!” he spat. He turned to Sister Sarah, but she was no longer there. She was already rushing down the stairs as fast as she could.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE
The students rushed to the front door, and Jim threw it open.
“Hurry! You can make it!” Claire Marie cried.
The woman saw the light streaming out from the doorway in front of her, and her eyes widened. She tried to quicken her pace.
“Oh, thank god!” she cried. A hiss came from behind her and she turned to find that some of the monstrous villagers had begun to edge forward. Her eyes opened wide in terror and she turned back to the house.
“Please help!” she cried, trying to increase her speed. Her gashed and bleeding leg was of no help however as she dragged it behind her.
“What are we going to do?” Ben cried, turning to Chris, who was standing in the doorway, speechless. He was looking beyond the woman to the crowd behind her. What was their plan? Were they going to slaughter this poor girl in front of them? What would that prove? It wouldn't achieve anything, but then again these were sadistic monsters from Hell. Maybe that was the point. He said nothing.
The woman was about three metres from the front door when she collapsed to the floor. She cried out in pain. At that moment, one of the villagers made their move. It was an older gentleman with a large, bushy beard. The coals he bore for eyes burned red and, despite his large, lumpy and mutated frame, he moved with a surprising speed and grace. The woman was struggling to get to her feet and he was heading straight for her.
“Oh god! Get up!” Ben cried, and Claire Marie screamed. They were helpless to stop the inevitable.
Jim Gherkin, however, was not.
He rushed past them, old cricket bat in hand. He ran to the woman, stood between her and the oncoming monster. It let out a screech and raised its arms towards him, but Jim gritted his teeth, planted his feet, and swung the bat. It connected with the bearded man’s head, so hard that if it had been an actual cricket ball it surely would have been a six-pointer. The man’s head snapped back, and he tumbled backwards to the floor, black blood spewing from his jagged mess of a mouth.
“Jim, get back inside!” Chris yelled as loud as he could, but the screams of the students drowned him out. Jim rushed back to the fallen woman and placed a comforting arm around her to help her up.
“Come on,” he said. “I've got you.”
“T-thank you,” the woman replied, her voice weak and broken.
As he struggled to get the woman to her feet, Jim turned back to make sure that no more monsters were coming towards him. Thankfully none were. Even the one he smashed in the face was still down, and motionless.
The injured woman began to shakily get to her feet, and as she did so the cloth that was covering her baby’s face fell away. When he saw what was beneath that material, his heart sank, and he knew immediately that he was in deep trouble.
***
The cracked and broken porcelain doll cradled in the woman’s arms looked up at Jim with lifeless black eyes. Its cloth dress was ragged, and it was missing chunks of hair. Even if it was in a jumble sale, no one would have bought it. Jim felt
something catch in his throat, and it wasn’t long before he realised it was a scream that his body refused to let out.
The bloodied and beaten woman was on her feet now, her joints cracking and snapping. She turned to Jim, her eyes a pair of burning embers.
“My hero,” she hissed, smiling a line of blackened teeth between a pair of cracked and bloodied lips.
“Oh shit!” Jim squeaked.
With lightning-quick reflexes, the woman drew back her free hand and caught Jim flush with a brutal backhand, flipping him off his feet and soaring backwards. The cricket bat tumbled from his hand as he hit the grass.
***
Chris tightened his grip on the kitchen knife in his hand, and instinctually went into action. He was about to step beyond the salt line when someone pushed out of the way. He stumbled into the door frame, and almost losing his balance as someone rushed past him.
“JIM!” Claire Marie cried.
***
The woman threw the porcelain doll aside and lunged upon the prone form of Jim, who was groggy and in pain. With absolute no effort at all, she flipped him over and straddled him. The chorus of demonic villagers behind her was alive. They were baying for blood, and blood was coming.
“Oh god,” Jim wheezed through gritted, bloody teeth.
“He won't save you,” the woman cried. Her jaw popped and cracked as her mouth extended, her jaw dislocated, ready to bite down on her prey. She was an inch from Jim’s face when—
***
Sarah squeezed down hard on the large water bottle, shooting a blast of cold holy water directly into the creature’s face. The effect was instant, and hideous. The water acted like acid, hissing and smoking as soon as it made contact. The demon woman let out a hideous scream and clutched at her face as it bubbled and melted. Sarah chose not to watch the nightmarish scenario, and instead took her chance to grab Jim by the scruff of his hoodie. She pulled him out from beneath the sizzling monster, whose face was collapsing in on itself. Jim was wheezing badly.
“I need help here!” Sarah cried out, without taking her eyes off the demonic monsters in front of them. The demonic woman had stopped clawing at her face. It wasn't there anymore. Where there had been a head there was now a bubbling, blackened stump that stank of sulphur. Her body toppled backwards awkwardly, and as it hit the grass it immediately began to dissolve and bubble.
“Holy shit!” Chris exclaimed as he and Pete reached Sarah. She was brandishing the water bottle as if it were a gun.
“Holy, indeed,” Sarah replied.
The demonic mob was now moving slowly forward, hungry jackals preparing to pounce.
“We need to get Jim back to the house. I think he's broken a couple of ribs,” Sarah said.
The Idols grabbed hold of the fallen student, who groaned in pain when they lifted him, and prepared to make a dash for the door.
“Ready?” Sarah asked.
“Ready,” the Idol brothers replied
Jim gurgled, which Sarah took to be a sign that he was ready too.
“GO!” she cried
Pete and Chris wasted no time, and carried the prone form of Jim towards the open doorway and his waiting friends.
“Jesus, he's heavier than he looks,” Pete cried, through spent breath.
They were almost at the doorway when a demonic little boy ran towards them, teeth bared and ready to attack. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Sister Sarah wave the water bottle in his face.
“Back, demon!” she cried.
The little boy obliged, amidst a deep guttural snarl that belied his age.
“Yeah, you little shit. Back off!” Pete spat at him.
“Kids these days. Absolutely no respect,” Chris said.
With a last effort, they bundled Jim across the threshold of the house, careful not to break the salt line. Benjamin, Petra, and Claire Marie took hold of him and carried him to the living room. Chris rushed into the kitchen, snatched up the large med kit they had amongst the supplies, and was about to follow the students when he noticed Pete was still standing in the doorway. He stepped up to see what the fuss was about, and didn't like what he saw.
Sister Sarah was still in the garden, brandishing the water bottle in her hand. She was surrounded by a group of demonic villagers, each one snarling and screeching at her.
“Sarah!” Chris shouted, and made to step back out into the chaos.
Sarah threw up a hand. “Stay there!” she cried. “Stay in the sanctuary of the house!”
Some of the villagers were circling her, clearly wary of the holy acid she had in that bottle she wielded. She looked out to the street of parked cars beyond the monsters, the cogs in her head turning.
“I think,” she said, thrusting the water bottle towards a demon that got a little too close to her, “I may have an idea.”
“That’s lovely!” Pete called out. “Why don't you come inside and we'll discuss it. I'll get Ben to put the kettle on.”
“I'm afraid I can’t do that, Peter,” Sarah replied
“Why the hell not?!” he asked.
“Because it’s a Hail Mary kind of idea,” she replied.
“Oh no,” Pete mumbled under his breath.
“What the bloody hell is she talking about?” Chris asked, exasperated and confused.
“She's going to distract them.”
“She's going to what? Is she insane?” Chris replied, as Pete reached into his pocket for the van keys.
“Christopher!” Sarah cried out, catching his attention. “Keep the students safe and inside the house!”
“Okay.” Chris said. “I have no idea what the fuck is going on, but okay.”
“Peter!” Sarah cried out, and both the brothers looked at her. “Are you ready?”
Pete nodded. She nodded back, and began taking deep, steady breaths.
“Here we go,” Pete said.
“Oh shit!” Chris replied, realising that an insane plan was about to kick off.
Sister Sarah continued to keep the demons at bay with the holy water bottle, but as she did so, she began to say a prayer quietly to herself. The brothers could barely make it out above the hisses and growls of the villagers. Every word she spoke seemed to offend and pain them in some way, but she was ignorant to their howls of disapproval.
“I need you, my Lord. I am nothing without you.
I ask you to raise me before your glory.
Shine your light upon me, allow me to walk with you and always do your Holy Will.
Protect me and bless me O merciful lord.
Fill me with your holy spirit.
Grant me peace, love and joy.
Heal me, bless me and sanctify me O lord; and make a blessing for all those around me.
Amen.”
ister Sarah took a deep breath and made her move. With lightning speed, she unscrewed the water bottle and tipped the contents all over herself.
The water splashed down over her short red hair, soaking it wet, cascaded down over her shoulders and bare arms, coating them completely. The material of her checked shirt immediately soaked it all up. She shook her head so that droplets of water flew off all around her. The demons recoiled in terror as the water came their way, and most managed to dodge it. One droplet caught a malformed, mutant old lady on the forehead, and she squealed in pain like a demonic pig, clawing at the hole it bored into her sickly flesh.
Sister Sarah stood, defiant and soaked amidst a circle of demons, and Pete and Chris were transfixed.
She gave them one last look before spinning and throwing the empty (but still wet) water bottle into the crowd ahead of her. They parted like a panicked human sea and, seizing her chance, Sister Sarah took off. She passed through the gap in the crowd in no time at all and hurdled the fence in front of the house.
She was on the tarmac of the road in front of the house, and that was when she really put her foot on the accelerator. Her posture changed to that of a sprinter, her breathing became focused and rhythmical, and she looked st
raight ahead. She had to look straight ahead, because if she turned, she would have seen the villagers, screaming after her as fast as their legs could carry them.
They couldn’t keep up with her pace, though. It was like someone had fired her out of a cannon. She knew had a head-start on them, but was also painfully aware of how human she was. She would eventually get tired, exhausted if she didn't pace herself. Would they suffer the same cardio problems?
She doubted it, but she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. All that mattered now was that she led them away from the house and gave her friends… her colleagues… time to get away.
***
The Idol brothers watched as Sister Sarah led the demonic villagers en masse away from the house and down the road. They were almost speechless. Almost.
“Wow. She can really move,” Chris said.
“And then some,” Pete replied.
When they were almost out of sight, Pete pulled the van keys from his pocket and turned to his brother.
“Right. I'm going to reverse the van right up to the front door, so make sure that it stays open and everyone is ready to jump in when I get the back door open,” he said.
“You sure about this?” Chris asked.
“When are we sure about anything, bruv?” Pete smirked.
He checked the coast was clear in both directions, and then darted out the doorway. He wasn't going anywhere near the speed that he saw Sister Sarah take off at, but he was definitely accelerating. In fact, he was so concerned with getting to the van as quickly as he could, he neglected to dodge the gooey black remains of the demon that Sister Sarah had vanquished. He skidded on the black mush and tumbled forward. He managed to keep hold of the keys, but not his pride. He turned and pulled his boot from the sticky black goo and immediately caught a strong whiff of sulphur.
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