Counselor of the Damned

by Angela Daniels

  “Forgive me, senhorita.”

  The bartender gave Fernando the check, ending the discussion. However, she had the feeling Fernando had more to say. She slid off her stool, grateful to put some space between them.

  On the walk back, she steered him away from the discussion with trivial questions about the hotel and how he enjoyed his work. He remained amiable to the change in topic, fortunately. They reached her little Mazda, and Tegonni dug her keys out of her purse. “Thank you for dinner.”

  “My pleasure. And I want you to know I respect your ethical boundaries.”

  “Thank you.” She hoped he wouldn’t say anything more. She went for her door, but he held up a hand, forestalling her.

  “I just don’t see how they apply as I’m not an official client. I think the real issue is my being a vampire. I don’t flirt with you for mere entertainment.” He stroked her cheek. “I flirt with you so I can pretend I’m a human man. Someone worthy of wooing you.”

  Her breath hitched. She opened her mouth to assure him he was worthy—so kind and dedicated and principled—but she couldn’t tell him that. It would be a cruel half-truth. He was all those things, but he was also a vampire with a soul destined for damnation. That shouldn’t negate the rest…but it did.

  Apparently taking her silence for agreement, he said, “How can being seen as worthy in Heaven’s eyes be enough when I can’t enjoy the benefits of a redeemed man?”

  He kissed her hand and then took her keys and opened the car door.

  Reluctantly she got inside. She needed to say something, anything, to fix this. But he closed her door and strode away, taking the opportunity with him.

  Chapter Five

  The next day, Tegonni sat staring at her computer screen, thoughts of her dinner with Fernando keeping her from focusing on her work. The monitor winked out, sleep mode engaging after several minutes of inactivity. This was the third time this morning she found herself looking at a blank screen while she rehashed last evening’s events. Annoying, since the same thoughts had kept her tossing and turning all night. She didn’t bother to wake her computer this time.

  Fernando had been flippant about his cravings, but somehow, she believed him when he said he could handle them. Maybe because she couldn’t imagine any addiction defeating Fernando. His will and inner strength were too strong.

  She shoved her keyboard drawer under her desk and groaned, wondering if her assessment was less than objective. That was what had kept her up last night. Was she getting too personal? More importantly, was he getting too personal?

  She cringed, remembering his last words. “How can being seen as worthy in Heaven’s eyes be enough when I can’t enjoy the benefits of a redeemed man?” The benefits. Her. He was focused on her instead of Matanji’s concession. I’m a distraction. Possibly from his only shot at salvation.

  Tegonni closed her eyes and took a deep breath. No sense in dramatizing one comment. Perhaps the benefits he referred to were more general. Maybe he hadn’t been talking about being worthy of her, but being deserving of a romantic, loving relationship. It came back to his self-loathing—a worrisome challenge but surmountable. The latter was preferable, professionally speaking. However, part of her liked the idea of him wanting to date her specifically. Really liked it.

  Damn. How could she help him if they were both losing sight of the objective?

  “I’m not losing sight,” she told the reflection in the computer screen. Just because she reacted to him as any woman would to an attractive, interested man, didn’t mean she couldn’t be objective. She’d have to work harder at it was all. And Fernando, well, she’d have to keep him focused as well.

  “Dr. Ellis?” Melissa poked her head into the office. “Have a few minutes?”

  “Sure. Come on in.” Happy to be distracted from her ruminations on Fernando, Tegonni pushed back from the computer and swiveled ninety degrees to face her writing desk and the intern seated before it. “I was going to call you about the Jones and Deveroe cases.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Melissa tucked one side of her precision-cut bob behind her ear as she took an exaggerated inhale and then blew it out. “Caden Jones is driving me bonkers!”

  Tegonni kept her face neutral, though Melissa’s lack of professional distance was uncharacteristic. I’m so not the one to lecture her on that today.

  “Sorry, Dr. Ellis.”

  Tegonni waved a hand. “We’ve all been frustrated by a case now and then. What’s the problem?”

  “Caden says he understands the risk they all took in doing a demon summoning and swears he won’t do it again. I believe him, but I don’t think he’s sorry he participated in this one.”

  “Your case notes say he won’t talk about why he did. That still true?”

  She threw up her hands. “Yes. I’ve explained to him that remorse is the key to removing the satanic miasma residue on his soul, and that leaving the miasma will make him susceptible to demonic influence. He says, ‘Sure, I’m sorry,’ but I get the distinct impression he doesn’t really care about the miasma. Same with Miles Deveroe. I don’t think they understand or believe the miasma exists.”

  “That’s not uncommon. Most people can’t discern the stuff in their energy field.” Nevertheless, the demon their circle of thirteen had summoned partially manifested in the physical, killing three of them. How could they doubt that? “Were they afraid when the demon appeared?”

  Melissa paused and ran her hand over her forehand. “I believe Caden was, though he tries to project nonchalance. Mr. Deveroe is different. He doesn’t seem to understand the danger of what they did. Like it was a big adventure or video game. He liked the excitement.”

  Tegonni grabbed her keyboard and tapped a couple of computer keys until Miles Deveroe’s intake notes came up. “You agree with the initial assessment that he isn’t a worshipper?”

  “Definitely. Totally out of profile. He’s a nice older gentleman and has been cooperative.”

  “Mmmm.” Satan worshippers as a rule didn’t allow themselves to be whisked into Lightworker headquarters for counseling. “I’m leaning toward diminished mental capacity. I’ll interview him for a psychiatric referral. As for Jones, let’s go ahead with the cleansing glyph and see if it takes.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Ellis.” Melissa popped out of the chair and smoothed her long, pale skirt. “Miles Deveroe is here now. I was hoping you could speak with him and give me a second opinion. A psych referral sounds like a good idea.”

  “Oh, okay. I guess I can see him before I head to lunch.”

  “Great. He’s so sweet. I really want to help him.”

  Tegonni smiled at her intern’s back as Melissa left the office. “I know how you feel,” she said to the empty doorway.

  After putting her computer on standby, she left her small office and crossed the hall to the sitting room she preferred to use for client sessions. She flipped on the table lamp and the gas fireplace in the corner. A soft, warm glow filled the cozy, windowless room. She sat in her usual spot, the easy chair nearest the fire, leaving the chair closer to the door, and the love seat opposite, open.

  When Melissa came in supporting an elderly man with a cane, Tegonni rose and took his other arm. She smiled at him while hiding the anger burning in her chest. How could anyone involve a frail old man in such a dangerous ritual? He was probably senile and had no idea how serious his actions were. The referral should be straightforward.

  “How about you sit here, Mr. Deveroe?” Melissa guided him toward the love seat.

  “Thank you, dearie.” He hobbled to the sofa and, pulling heavily on their assisting hands, sat down. Leaning his cane against the seat next to him, he said, “Whew! Everything takes a bit more effort at my age. Thanks for the assistance, young ladies.”

  “Of course, Mr. Deveroe. This is Dr. Tegonni Ellis.” Melissa patted his arm and then sat in the free easy chair.

  “So you’re in charge of our ragtag group of survivors, are you,
young woman?”

  Tegonni, smiling, sat back down and extended her hand. “I suppose so. It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for agreeing to talk with me.”

  He reached out slowly and shook her hand, but his grip was firm. “My pleasure. I was hoping to meet you. Bonus points.”

  “I’m sorry. Bonus points?”

  He chuckled as he pulled at the knee of his cotton pants. “Aw, nothing. Don’t mind me.”

  Tegonni glanced at Melissa, but the intern only shrugged. “Mr. Deveroe, Melissa explained why I wanted to talk to you?”

  “Sure she did. You want to make sure I understand my actions were wrong.”

  Tegonni laid her hands on her lap, trying to appear relaxed and nonjudgmental. “How do you feel about having helped summon the demon?”

  He shook a gnarled finger at her. “Come now, missy. No use trying to pretend you’re nonjudgmental about it. I know you think it was evil.” His eyes got big and he leaned forward. “And I agree with you. Good folks shouldn’t be messing with those kinds of forces.”

  Tegonni refrained from glancing at Melissa. The man sounded competent. “So you do regret being part of the circle?”

  “Heck no! It was loads of fun.” He whooped, revealing straight teeth, too stark white to be anything but dentures.

  “That notion seems at odds with what you just said about good people not messing with demonic forces.”

  “Well, what’s the use of being my age if I can’t break the rules a little? Not like I was really risking anything.”

  Melissa shot Tegonni a pointed look.

  Definitely an impaired-judgment case. Tegonni mentally sorted through the psychiatrists on staff, deciding who would be the best fit.

  “You want to know why I’m not afraid of the demon we summoned?” He smirked at her with a happy twinkle in his eyes.

  “Yes, I am curious.”

  “Well, Mr. B and I go way back. No way is he going to let some snot-nosed red-skin get out of hand with me.”

  He was making no sense again. “I’m sorry, Mr. Deveroe. Who?”

  Chuckling, he looked from Tegonni to Melissa. “You girls don’t know much, do you? That’s okay, you’ll learn.”

  Knots tightened in Tegonni’s stomach. She hovered her fingers over the panic button hidden in the front of her chair’s armrest. Security would be here within moments if she pushed it. She spoke slowly and remained calm. “What do you mean, Mr. Deveroe? Who is Mr. B?”

  His laugh turned into a cackle that crawled along her skin. Melissa swore softly.

  Tegonni pressed the panic button before standing. She worked at a blank face as his gray irises darkened with swirls of black.

  Possession. Damn.

  So his circle hadn’t called up a run-of-the-mill demon; they’d gotten a soul-stealer. Any demon, no matter the power level, would have been trapped by runes, unable to escape the confines of the ritual circle. The only way out was to hitch a ride in a human body. And that took a lot of power. Soul-stealers were one of the few hellspawn—besides the Demon Lords themselves—that could actually override a person’s will and take over their body.

  How did we miss this? They were all checked.

  “Excuse us. We will discuss your referral in my office. Melissa?”

  His high-pitched laughter continued as he watched them with his black, miasma-filled eyes. Melissa’s face drained to white, her jaw slack as she stared. Tegonni, heart pounding, grabbed the young woman’s arm and pulled her to the door.

  Melissa whimpered as Tegonni gripped the knob and it didn’t budge. Tegonni whipped around. “What do you want, soul-stealer?”

  He tossed aside the cane and rose gracefully to his feet. “I’m the one in control, girly. Not the demon.”

  “Not possible.” Tegonni forced calm and confidence into her voice. Help was coming. She just needed to stall him. “When a soul-stealer takes a human’s body, they eat the soul.”

  He curled his upper lip in a sneer. “Not mine. Not no ordinary, weak, satanic circle freak. I’m a magician. And a longtime devotee of Mr. B.—that’s Demon Lord Beelzebub to you.”

  Cold dread seized Tegonni’s insides. Dear God.

  Frantic knocking sounded from the other side of the door. Melissa pounded back. “Get us the hell out of here!”

  Deveroe burst into gales of fresh laughter.

  Tegonni’s voice shook a little as she said, “They will get in. And the demon will be exorcised.”

  He shrugged. “Of course. But not before I’ve gotten what I came for.”

  “Let me guess. Our souls.”

  He spread his arms. “I hate to be cliché, but that is my boss’s line of business.”

  “Bonus points for two, right?”

  “No. For bringing him the soul of a head honcho.” He waved his long, gnarled fingers and a heavy mass invaded her solar plexus. She rose in the air, her insides burning. Melissa screamed and flailed beside her as they reached the ceiling. Tegonni struggled for breath. Panic welled up inside her and her lips trembled. God no! I don’t want to die.

  Breathe. Think. The man-demon couldn’t just kill them if he was after their souls. Those would go to Heaven unless he somehow tricked them into giving their souls to him. They still had time.

  The pounding on the door intensified. Please let them find a way in soon. “Don’t look into his eyes, Melissa. He can’t use mind games on us if we don’t look into the miasma.”

  Tegonni clamped her eyes shut. Every soft chuckle or rustle of his clothing made her flinch. The only thing worse than being attacked by a demon was not being able to see the beast coming. Struggling not to search for the danger was like trying not to breathe underwater. Eventually, the panic won.

  A meaty thud followed by strangled grunt from Melissa tipped Tegonni’s inner battle. She opened her eyes to check on her intern.

  And met endless black. The demon-man was inches from her face. She screamed.

  Inky blackness crawled across her visual field like smoke. Chills covered her skin, and her thumping heart skipped beats. She fought, physically and mentally, not to go under the creature’s spell. Futile. She was sinking, her body heavy. The sticky, tar-like power of the miasma pulled at her consciousness until she closed her eyes, and it sucked her into a nightmare.

  * * * *

  Tegonni floated in a void of white. She couldn’t recollect where she’d been before or how she’d come to be here. She felt drained, her emotions muted. She should be scared or at least anxious, but all she felt was a sad apathy.

  Solid ground appeared under her bare feet. The carpet under her feet was soft and a multitude of brilliant shades of red. The colors were crisp and clear. She could distinguish every single carpet strand as if she had enhanced vision. Misty shapes began to form around her.

  “Get out of the way, Dr. Ellis. You can’t stop this. Perhaps if you’d obeyed me in the first place this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “What?” Tegonni turned toward Jaime’s voice. Three of the misty forms materialized: her boss flanked by two sword-wielding Lephiri. Powers, the warrior Lephiri. As she faced them, she replayed Jaime’s words. The knowledge that this was not her reality didn’t prevent her stomach from contracting with nausea as she looked behind her.

  “Fernando?” His blood-covered form hung limp from silver chains bolted into the ceiling. Sword cuts crisscrossed his bare chest.

  On the floor, a disheveled Father Morgan clung to the vampire’s legs, weeping. Above his stiff white collar were pinpricks of a vampire feeding. They stood out, red against pale skin. She cringed away from the horrible tableau. Her emotions woke up from their dulled state.

  “Master.” Father Morgan’s word was calm, but the intense way he stared at Fernando, as if the vampire were all that existed for him, sent chills crawling across her skin. Dear God. No.

  “You fed on him. Why, Fernando?”

  He lifted his head and peered at her with dull eyes. “I lost control. I tried to make do with the subs
titute blood, but… I deserve to die.”

  Tegonni covered her mouth with both hands, holding back a sob. He’d lost control because she had pushed him to abstain from human blood. This was her fault. Father Morgan was caught in the grip of compulsion because of her. Emptiness consumed her. Could the priest come back? Could he and Fernando work past it? She had to fix this. “You can try again.”

  “No more false hope, Doctor. I can’t live up to your expectations. Please step away. It’s done.”

  The sentiment, echoing Jaime’s, brought the full weight of the situation crashing against her chest. They were going to kill him.

  “No! He doesn’t deserve this. He’s tried to—”

  “He can’t escape what he is,” Jaime said. “Even he knows that. No, it’s not fair, but you’re the only fool insisting that makes any difference.”

  “His intentions do matter.”

  “Your objections are noted, but he’s going to die. Do you really want to sacrifice your career…or your life…to stand on your principles?”

  Tegonni stared, stunned by Jaime’s implication. She’d actually have me killed for standing against her? Tegonni took a hesitant step to the side, then halted. She’s bluffing. “This is wrong.”

  “Step aside, Dr. Ellis.”

  “Obey her, Doctor.”

  She turned to Fernando. “But—”

  “There is no other way. There never was.”

  His cold, accusing stare tore at her, but she couldn’t look away. He’d given up on himself. And on her. Tears rolled down her face as she moved from between Fernando and his executioners. Pain racked her gut with every step. He didn’t deserve to die, but she was no longer sure it wasn’t the best option. What he’d done to Father Morgan. It could happen again. No one here wanted that.

  Yet her instinct screamed that Fernando’s death wasn’t the right answer. It was easy and callous. She stood frozen, aching for Fernando, for Father Morgan. And horrified at what she had done to them. Her advice had led Fernando down a path that caused him to betray his spiritual mentor and lose his chance at an honorable death. Looking at the two men, both defeated and destroyed, she realized the worst part. Their free will was gone. And she was at fault.