“Agreed,” Sister Sarah said. “Hopefully, now that the evil has been exorcised from this place, I will be able to call for assistance.”
“Okay then, but can we take a few more minutes first?” Chris asked. “It has been kind of a long day.”
They sat for a while, looking at the wreckage of the van and the black water all around it.
“Do you think the insurance will cover us for that?” Chris asked.
“I doubt it. We'll have to check with Sally,” Pete said.
A moment of silence.
“She's gonna kill us,” the brothers said in unison.
Just then, Chris heard the distant sound of approaching engines, and turned to see a parade of vehicles advancing along the road behind them. A line of large, black Sedans, and behind that were medical vehicles, their lights flashing.
Pete, Chris and Sarah stood and walked over to the road.
“Looks like you didn't need to call for that backup after all, Sister,” Chris said.
The first of the big black cars slowed and came to a stop before them. The vehicles behind it barrelled past, onwards towards the village. From the driver’s side of the Sedan appeared a large, dark-suited gentleman, who looked more like a bouncer than a chauffeur. He gave the trio an inquisitive look.
“Sister O'Sullivan?” he asked.
Sarah responded with a nod, and then he turned his attention to the two injured and bloody men next to her.
“And you must be the infamous Idol brothers.”
“Ahuh,” Pete nodded. “And you are?”
“He is with head office,” Sarah said.
The suited man nodded, and opened the back door of the car. Sarah stepped forward and the Idol brothers followed. The comfort of the heated leather seats was immediate, and for the first time in many hours they began to relax. As the driver started the vehicle towards the village, Pete leaned forward and said:
“If you’re wondering what that smell is, it's predominately sulphur. None of us has shit our pants.”
***
The scene at Gallows Hill was a chaotic one. Ambulances and specially-trained emergency staff, not to mention a group of investigators hired by the church, were all over the place. They were investigating the damage of the front of the house, busily scampering around, taking notes, readings and samples. They had cordoned off the entire village and blocked all roads leading into it. A gas leak was to blame, anyone trying to enter the village were told.
As he sat in the back of an ambulance, Pete watched as the students were treated for their injuries. They were safe now, but their ordeal was not over. For some of them, it never would be. When touched by evil, a life never can be the same again. Once they had recovered from any injuries they had suffered, they would be interviewed, several times over in the case of some of them, and begin a long course of psychotherapy. He hoped they would be ok. They were good kids.
Chris, bandaged up like his brother, limped over and sat with Pete. They watched as Phil Harrison was loaded into an ambulance, grimacing in pain and now complete with a neck brace. He didn't know the man, but Chris couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
The brothers said nothing, instead watched as people rushed in all directions, beginning clean up and caring for the injured. Across the road, Claire Marie and her friends were led towards one of the black sedans. She glanced over and softly smiled at them before climbing into the Sedan.
Pete pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his trousers and popped one in his mouth.
“I thought you had ruined all those?” Chris said.
“I did. Thankfully one of the medics had a stash of them in his bag. Ironic ay?”
He lit it.
“Do you think they'll try something like this again?” Pete asked.
“I honestly don't know. It's certainly a lot of effort to go through just to get to us. Plus, you heard what that… thing said when it was speaking through Claire Marie. It's got other plans. I doubt it will want to risk another public outing anytime soon.”
“And what do you think those plans are?”
“Fuck knows. Probably something uncomfortably apocalyptic, I'm sure. You know how inconsiderate they are down there.”
“Heh. Yeah,” Pete mumbled, scratching his stubble with a bandaged hand. “After today, I think it's time for us to take a long overdue vacation, don't you, brother?”.
“Where to?”
“I don't know. Somewhere coastal might be nice. We could put our feet up, eat fish and chips, get pissed and build sandcastles.”
“Sounds lovely. To be honest, though, I don't care where we go, as long as it's not in the middle of the countryside, surrounded by demonic country bumpkins.”
Pete laughed, and Chris soon joined him.
Sister Sarah, who had been talking to an older nun about something or other, came across to the ambulance.
“Everything okay?” Chris asked her.
“Yes. Everything is fine.”
She looked at the cigarette in Pete’s hand.
“Those things will kill you,” she joked.
“Everything's been trying that today,” Pete replied.
Sarah laughed and sat down next to the Idols, perching herself on the lip of the ambulance.
“You're gonna have to call Sally at some point you know,” Sarah said.
“We know. We're just too scared to, at the moment,” Chris replied.
A tall, skinny-faced gentlemen approached the trio, wielding a notebook. He didn't look happy.
“This is quite some mess you three have made, I must say. It's going to take a lot of manpower and heaven knows how much collateral to clear this mess up and keep it from going public.” The man grimaced and put his hands behind his back. He was clearly a stick in the mud and already the Idol brothers wanted to punch him.
Chris frowned. “And you are?” he said
“This gentleman is from head office.” Sister Sarah piped up.
“Sister O'Sullivan, I must say we are severely disappointed in you. You were supposed to keep these two in line and limit any more chaos. Now look at this mess! You allowed yourself to be influenced by unconventional methods.”
The brothers couldn't believe what they were hearing.
“When we get back to head office, we will be questioning you fully about your actions before you are reassigned.”
“Reassigned?” Sarah replied, shocked.
“What are you talking about, mate?” Pete said.
“Sister Sarah is being transferred to another part of the country. Another member of religious support will be sent to you in a few weeks. Until then you are not to engage in any unsanctioned exorcisms.”
Chris smiled, stood up, and fixed the man with a look that made him take a step back.
“Let me stop you right there. The woman you see here, the one who is bandaged, bruised and exhausted? She just saved our lives, and the lives of those innocent people in that house. We've seen darkness today that would make a man like you wet himself, and this woman didn't blink. Not even once. You stand there, with your fancy suit and notebook, talking about this job we do, but let me ask you: have you ever seen what people like us have to deal with?”
The tall man stumbled over his words, losing his former confidence.
“Well, no, but I've seen the files of your work, and—”
“Oh, you've seen some files? Well then, you must be an expert in facing off against the forces of evil. I tell you what, seeing as you're such a pro at this, me and Pete will ask head office if we can take you with us next time we have a case. How’s that sound?”
“Well I don't think there’s any need—”
“That’s what we'll do. Then you can stand beside us when there’s only us standing between an innocent soul and eternal damnation. To do this job, you need someone who is capable of that, and you clearly are the top guy for the job. So, think you could help us out with that?”
“Uhhh…”
“If it’s n
ot going to be you, then we'll have to stick with Sister Sarah here, I'm afraid.”
Pete stood up beside his brother.
“That’s right. Unless you bollock up and join us, she isn't going anywhere.”
The brothers stood together between the suit and the nun. The man sneered at them.
“I see the reports of you are well-founded. Thankfully I know Sister O'Sullivan to be a loyal member of our organisation, and someone who actually cares about following orders, so let's see what she has to say, shall we?”
The man stared at the rookie nun, awaiting an answer. She stood, walked across to the Idol brothers, and smiled softly at the man.
“I'm sorry, sir, there seems to be a bit of miscommunication. Allow me to clear it up for you. I think what my colleagues are trying to say is this…” The smile disappeared from her face. “Piss off back to where you came from, and let us get on with our work.”
The man recoiled, speechless at the nun’s disrespect and contempt. The Idol brothers, however, reacted in an altogether more triumphant way.
“Daaaamn, son! You just got burned!” Pete cried.
As they walked past, Chris patted the tall man on the shoulder. “Thanks for the chat. We'll be in touch.” he said, before leading his colleagues away.
“You know, Sister, I do believe we might have been a bad influence on you,” Pete said, and the nun smirked.
“I wouldn't necessarily say that, Peter.”
A woman rushed across to them. Chris didn’t recognise her. None of them did. “Don't run off just yet! I've got someone on the phone for you!” the woman said, and thrust a mobile phone in their general direction. “Whoever it is, she sounds upset.”
Without blinking, the Idol brothers faced each other, raised their fists and began their battle poses once more.
1… 2… 3…
“Ha!” Pete cried. “Rock beats scissors every time! Bad luck mate!”
Chris sighed, and his brother patted on the back. He nodded at the flustered woman in front of him. He took the phone off her, quietly thanked her, and then raised it to his ear.
“Hello?”
The voice boomed out so loudly that Chris had to pull the phone away from his ear. Pete and Sister Sarah both heard it themselves, and even took a step back. Sally didn't let Chris get a word in edgeways as she chastised him. On and on she went, a shrill tirade.
Chris smiled.
Everything was back to normal.
EPILOGUE
FATHER
The creature had been waiting in the shadows for hours, but the time to strike had almost arrived. It had watched its brothers and sisters rush headlong into that awful former church, only to see them be violently sent back to the fires below. It was the only one left to do its master’s work, and the thought of being able to please the dark one pleased it.
How foolish the others were. How headstrong and eager they had been, letting their pathetic lust for blood overrule their heads. They had cursed at it, calling it weak. Idiots. It was their weakness that had been exposed, and when they arrived back in Hell, their punishments would be slow and agonising.
But not it.
It had hidden away, choosing to battle another day.
As the sun set, it watched the large, featureless building on the outskirts of the small town as a procession of sad, troubled people shuffled inside. It must have been some kind of congregation, and just the thought of it made it retch. After the service, his target appeared, walking away from the church, a stick to support him.
The old man paused once or twice to look behind him. He was clearly no fool and must have sensed that someone was following him, but in each instance, it had darted into the dark of the hedgerows, out of sight, and the old man continued his journey.
It followed the old man all the way home.
It was a small, old bungalow situated in a quiet suburb full of old-looking bungalows. There was a small quaint garden out front. The streets were deserted. A white van sat at the edge of the kerb.
As it watched the old man hobble to his front door, where he let himself in, it began to drool. The thoughts of what it was going to do to this enemy of Hell was almost too delicious to comprehend.
No! It thought. Do not be swayed by the hunger for torture. First, we must enter that house.
It crept along the street, sticking to the shadows, and crossed into the front garden. Colourful flowers crumbled beneath its grotty boots as it passed silently onto the pathway at the side of the house, looking for a way in.
There! An open window!
This was almost too easy.
It forced the small, horizontal window open some more with its clawed fingers, and then slowly climbed through. Its body squeezed and popped as its bones realigned and reformed to allow it to slip through, and it slid, lizard-like, slowly into the room.
Into darkness, but its eyes were accustomed to such light, and it found itself in a simple, white bathroom. Gathering itself to its full height, it reached for the door handle and twisted it. It stepped out into the dull yellow of the hallway.
There, in the room opposite, the old man sat, nestled within the old, tattered fabric of an old armchair. At first, it thought it had been spotted. Then it realised that the man was asleep.
Smiling, it stalked towards its prey. It peeled back the hood of its tattered jacket, revealing its ragged, scabby scalp. With a pop, it began to extend its jaw, revealing its razor-sharp teeth. It towered over the old man in the chair, and began to delight in how it was going to torture him.
Maybe it would slice him open from throat to belly and scatters his entrails on the doorstep of those Idol fuckers.
Or it could slowly peel off the priest’s skin and wear it when it destroyed the Idol brothers themselves.
“Montaguuuuue Rrrhooooddddes!” it hissed. “Helllll awaaaaaitts yoooou!”
Suddenly, the priest’s eyes snapped opened.
And the priest smiled.
Before it had time to react, let alone turn and run, a huge blow to its chest took it off its feet. Its chest, full of useless internal organs blackened by sulphur, collapsed like an empty bag, as the bat that connected with it turned it to ruin.
It landed on its back and began to scream and holler, feeling the skin below its jacket bubble and split. Suddenly, a thick, heavy boot crunched down on its throat, pinning it to the floor. Its claws feebly grasped at the leg pinning it to the ground, but it was going nowhere. It looked up at the figure above it, and saw that he was holding a bat in his right hand. In it were carved religious symbols and words. That was why it hurt so much.
Father Montague Rhodes stood up from his chair and grabbed for his walking stick.
“See? I told you I was being followed!” he boomed triumphantly.
The demon watched as the nun—Sister Sarah—appeared from behind the living room door. She looked like a cat-burglar, dressed in a slim-fit black hoodie and trousers. She placed a hand on Rhodes’s shoulder
“Are you okay, Father?” she asked.
“Of course, child, never better.”
From his position on top of the demon, Peter Idol turned back to the priest.
“How did the meeting go?” he asked.
The priest smiled softly.
“It went well, but there’s a long way to go. The inner demons are the ones we fight daily, Peter. Creatures like this foul mess in front of us don't even compare.”
“Well, we're here if you need us Father,” Sarah said.
“Thank you, Sister.” the priest replied, patting her hand appreciatively.
Chris Idol stepped into the room, a large canvas bag over his shoulder. He looked down at the creature struggling against his brother’s boot and sighed. Sarah approached him inquisitively.
“Do you think it’s from Hullenbeck?” she asked
“No doubt. Sneaky bastard must have escaped somehow, and wanted to exact some twisted vengeance on its own.”
Chris opened the bag and pulled out a
large, old looking shotgun. He opened it and popped two shells into the barrels before snapping it shut. He looked at the old priest.
“You sure no one around is going to call the police when we do this?” he asked.
“Not a chance, Christopher. Most of the folks on this street are stone cold deaf. They won’t hear a thing. Anyone else is probably asleep already. That's why my sister moved here in the first place.”
The priest paused, pondering something before continuing.
“Although, it's probably best if we don’t mention the details of what happened here,” he said.
Chris nodded.
“Okay, then, let's do this.”
Pete released his hold on the demon’s throat and took a step back.
The exorcists crowded around their prone adversary and looked down upon it. Chris wielded the shotgun in his hand as his brother and the nun stood on either side of him. Father Rhodes opened an old looking holy book and began reading from its pages. As he did so, Sister Sarah pulled a small flask of water from her jacket and began splashing it upon the demon. The water hissed against its skin and it screamed in pain.
“When you get back to Hell, you tell them that if anyone down there tries to mess with anyone we know, then they'll have the Idol brothers to deal with. And if they want to take us on, then they're welcome to try. We'll just have to kick their asses back to the fire, like all those who came before them.”
The creature screamed as its skin bubbled and blistered. Chris readied the shotgun.
“And tell your boss we said hello,” Pete added, resting the bat on his shoulder.
Father Rhodes finished his rite, and Sister Sarah topped the bottle cap and popped the flask back into her pocket.
“Any last words, demon?” she asked.
“YOU PATHETIC SACKS OF FLESH! WHEN THE MASTER TURNS THIS WORLD TO ASH WE WILL TORMENT YOUR SOULS FOREVERMORE! WE WILL RETURN FOR YOU! I WILL RETURN FOR YOU, AND I WILL MAKE YOU ALL SUFFER!”
Chris smiled.
“We'll be waiting,” he said.
Then, as the creature that used to be human screamed in protest, Chris levelled the shotgun barrels at the its head and squeezed the trigger.
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