by Amy Cross
“What demon?” Wendy asked, trying not to show that she was scared.
“I don't know its name,” Mother Superior replied, “not yet, nor do I know where it came from. I only know that it must be driven out.” She placed a hand on Wendy's knee. “I know there is a tendency in the modern age to coddle children and protect them from harsh realities, but I do not agree with such an approach. Wendy, my dear, we are going to have to get to work at once, forcing the demon from your body and ensuring that it can never again trouble your soul. The process is harsh and unpleasant for all concerned, and yes, there will be a degree of pain, but we would never do anything that wasn't in your best interests. A life lived in avoidance of pain is really no life at all, you know.” She paused, as if she was waiting for Wendy to say something. “Do you understand?”
“Why are you talking about a demon?” Wendy asked.
“Because it is in you, child,” she continued, prodding Wendy's chest with a finger, just above the heart. “Because it is hitching a ride in your soul.”
Wendy shook her head.
“I have studied these matters extensively,” Mother Superior continued, “and I have prayed for guidance. If we leave the demon where it dwells at present, you will suffer great agonies as you get older. The only solution is to cast it out at once, which means we must start today. Of course, if you hadn't absconded when you did, we could have rid you of the foul creature before now, but you chose to run. For that you must be punished, just as Sister Julia was punished for allowing you to leave. We must all be punished when we do something wrong, Wendy. It's the only way for us to learn from our mistakes.”
“I want to go home,” Wendy whispered.
“This is your home now. You have nowhere else, no mother, no family. You are quite alone in the world, except for the Lord, who watches over you and who has brought you here to Barton's Cross so you can be freed from the demon that plagues your soul. And that -” With a faint wheeze, she got to her feet. “And that is what we are going to do, once you have been punished for your prior act of disobedience.” Making her way to a cabinet in the corner, she used a small key to open the front, and finally she took out a section of knotted rope.
“Be strong,” Sister Julia whispered, leaning closer to Wendy from behind. “Let the Lord guide you in your repentance and in your journey from the shadow of sin.”
“Stand, Wendy,” Mother Superior said, heading back over toward her, with the knotted rope in her right hand. “Your punishment must be delivered. Five strikes, and be thankful that I am showing such lenience.”
Wendy shook her head.
“Six strikes, then.”
“No -”
“Seven.”
“No!” Wendy got to her feet, staring in horror at the rope. “I want to go home!”
“Eight strikes.” Mother Superior stared down at her, waiting for her to acquiesce. “Nine.” She paused, still waiting. “Ten.”
“Wendy,” Sister Julia said, hurrying around and putting her hands on the girl's shoulder, “just be strong. You'll thank us later.”
“Eleven,” Mother Superior continued. “Twelve.”
“It doesn't hurt that much,” Sister Julia continued. “This is really one of the less trying punishments. Mother Superior is showing you great mercy.”
“Thirteen strikes,” Mother Superior said darkly, “and three for you, Sister Julia, since you clearly find the whole thing to be less trying than it could be.”
Sister Julia opened her mouth to reply, but she seemed struck by fear.
“We shall start with you,” Mother Superior continued, “so that Wendy can see there is no reason to be fearful.”
“I -” Sister Julia paused, before turning her back to Mother Superior and then loosening her habit. Her fingers trembled as she untied the lace around her neck, and finally she pulled her dress down a little to reveal her bare back, which was criss-crossed with red lines, some of which seemed fresh and some of which were clearly older. “I accept my punishment with grace and humility,” she said quickly, as if she was reciting something she'd learned a long time ago, “and I pray the Lord to touch my soul, that he might -”
Before she could finish, Mother Superior struck her with the knotted rope, sending her stumbling forward a few paces.
Wendy jumped up from her chair.
“It's okay,” Sister Julia told her, with tears in her eyes as she stepped back, ready for the second strike. “This is how it should be. I was insolent and I spoke out of turn.”
“And?” Mother Superior said firmly.
“And... I allowed you to abscond the other day, when I should have known better. It's my fault, Wendy, that you -”
She let out a cry of pain as the knotted rope struck her back again, this time leaving a thicker red mark.
“And,” Sister Julia continued, her voice trembling with pain, “I allowed doubt into my mind, and weakness. I pray that the Lord -”
She cried out again, as the rope struck her back. Stumbling forward, she froze for a moment, before starting to rearrange her habit now that the punishment was over. Wincing as she pulled the fabric over her fresh wounds, she finally turned to Wendy and offered a forced smile, before turning to Mother Superior.
“Thank you, Mother Superior,” she said, smiling despite the tears in her eyes. “Once again, you have helped keep me on the right path.”
“And now you, Wendy,” Mother Superior said firmly, staring down at the little girl. “You must learn to take your punishment, so that you might rise above your wretchedness and become a stronger, more worthy person. Only then can we start to deal with the demon in your soul.” She paused, clearly waiting for Wendy to assume the position for her punishment. “Well?” she added after a moment. “Are you going to submit to thirteen strikes, or must you be forced to take thirty?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
1941
Screaming and kicking, Wendy was dragged back from the bath by two nuns who set her down on the bed and covered her immediately with towels. Even as she kicked at them some more, they pressed her down against the hard mattress, ignoring her cries for help and instead trying to mop as much water as possible from her flesh.
“It's okay,” Sister Julia said, reaching down and moving strands of wet, matted hair from the girl's face. “You're safe, Wendy. You're safe. Just try to breathe.”
Opening her mouth and taking in a big gulp of air, Wendy immediately felt a searing pain in her chest. She cried out, tilting her head back, as she felt water bursting up from her lungs until finally it ran like warm slime from the side of her mouth, down past her ear and onto the bed. At the same time, the sense of nausea in her belly reared up again, bumping against the inside of her ribs and then turning as if to seek some other way out of her body. She felt hands on her arms and legs, still holding her down, but at least the pain was subsiding now, even as her panic threatened to build again.
“It's over,” Sister Julia continued, leaning over her with a smile. “Wendy, look at me, it's over. For now, at least. You have endured.” She put a hand on the side of Wendy's face. “You have endured, my dear.”
Staring up with wide, terrified eyes, Wendy let out a gasp of pain.
“The first stage was a success,” Sister Julia added, taking a towel and dabbing at Wendy's forehead. “Mother Superior said we had to make your body an uncomfortable place for the demon to hide, and we succeeded. Demons are not creatures of great bravery, Wendy. We've made him see that he's not welcome in you, and now he's undoubtedly preparing to leave. We just need to give him one final push. You'll be very grateful later.”
Rolling onto her side, Wendy began to cough up more water, before the nuns forced her onto her back again.
“Mother Superior also tricked him into revealing his name,” Sister Julia told her. “That was the most important thing, because now she knows the identity of this particular demon, she can lure him out further. He's called Drexial, and Mother Superior says he's one of the fire de
mons that haunt this city from time to time. She's taking a moment to read some of the old texts, she'll be back soon to begin the second part of the exorcism, but for now...” Reaching down, she placed a small crucifix in Wendy's hands, forcing the girl's fingers to hold it tight. “You mustn't let go of this, Wendy, not for any reason. It'll protect you until Mother Superior is ready.”
Staring up at her, Wendy was still trying to get her breath back as the other nuns released their hold on her arms and legs.
“It's going to be fine,” Sister Julia continued, as the others left them alone in the room. Reaching down, she straightened Wendy's hair again. “Do you know how this demon got into you in the first place, Wendy? Did you invite it?”
Wendy paused, before shaking her head.
“Do you have any idea when it might have happened?”
For a moment, Wendy thought back to the burning plane, and then to the skeletal pilot that had clawed its way over her body. There had been an orange glow, something that had been like the fire but also separate, and she remembered it reaching out to her just before she'd been pulled to safety.
“Never mind,” Sister Julia continued, “just rest for a moment until Mother Superior is ready to resume. I'll be back in a moment, but whatever you do, don't let the crucifix out of your hands, okay? It's keeping the demon from tormenting you.” She turned to walk away, but Wendy instinctively reached out and grabbed her arm, dropping the crucifix in the process. “No,” the sister said, taking the crucifix and placing it firmly back in her hands again, “you must be careful, Wendy.” She leaned down and kissed the girl's forehead gently. “We didn't lie to you. We told you this would hurt, but when you're in the grip of pain, try to focus on the fact that it will be over soon. As long as you don't look into his eyes, you'll be fine. We heard his voice just now, you know. Have you heard it?”
Wendy stared at her.
“Such a horrible, evil voice,” Sister Julia added. “It came from your mouth, Wendy, filled with a dark echo. That's the mark of a demon, you know.”
With that, she turned and hurried away, slipping out through a door that she then pulled shut, leaving Wendy completely alone.
Still a little breathless, Wendy stayed completely still on the bed in the center of the darkened room, her hands linked together on her chest with the crucifix tucked between her fingers. Her belly felt full and she knew she'd swallowed a lot of water, but the past hour came to her only in fits and starts. She remembered her head being pushed under the surface and held there, and she remembered struggling for her life, convinced she was going to be drowned. She remembered Mother Superior reading verses of Latin from a tattered prayer book, and she remembered the soreness of her back as she'd been pushed down again by the other nuns. Her bandages had been removed, leaving her unhealed burns exposed to the air. After a moment, however, she remembered her mother, and the songs that would help her drift to sleep when she was a child, and -
Suddenly she felt something moving in her hands. Looking down, she saw to her horror that the crucifix seemed to be moving of its own accord, as if some invisible force was trying to tease it from between her fingers. She clamped it tighter, but she could still feel it wriggling slightly against her palms.
Turning, she looked across the dark room and realized she was being watched. She couldn't see anyone, not even as she looked all around, but her whole body was tingling as someone or something crept closer. Finally, with the wet towels clinging to her body, she sat up, convinced that at any moment she'd see a face looming out of the darkness. Just as she'd sensed the dead pilot during the previous night, now she sensed something else, something stronger.
In the palm of her hands, the crucifix was still trembling, as if some unseen force was trying to pull it free.
“Hello?” Wendy called out, and she was immediately surprised by how rough and gravelly her own voice sounded after swallowing and then bringing up so much water. There was a slight echo, too, just enough for her to notice.
A strand of wet hair dropped down across her face as she turned and looked toward the far end of the room, but there was still no sign of anyone.
In the distance, there were footsteps, but they weren't coming any closer. She looked at the door, hoping against hope that Sister Julia would return, but after a moment the footsteps faded into the distance and she was left alone, shivering and cold with only the towels for warmth, and still with the sense of being watched. It was as if the darkness had eyes, and after a few seconds she looked up, almost expecting to find that she was sitting in the center of a huge iris. Above, the low stone ceiling could just about be made out in the gloom, and the sight was strangely comforting, as if she felt that above and below were the two directions from which nothing could possibly be watching.
Suddenly she felt a sharp pain in the palm of her hand, as the crucifix shifted again and cut her skin with its sharp edge. She gasped but held it tight, squeezing her hands tighter shut. Whatever was making the crucifix move, it seemed increasingly frantic now, pulling the small metal cross first one way and then another, desperately trying to pull it free and, in the process, digging it deeper and deeper into her flesh. She winced at the pain, while squeezing her hands even tighter together, determined to keep the crucifix from finding a way out. At the same time, she felt something brushing against the back of her neck, and she turned to look at the darkness all around, convinced that at any moment she'd see a face staring at her.
She held her breath.
Waiting.
As the pain in the palm of her hand became stronger, she realized she could feel the crucifix starting to dig through the flesh. She looked down and saw to her horror that there was a large bruise starting to form just below her knuckles, spreading as a discolored patch until finally the crucifix began to tear itself through, slipping between the bones of her hand and wriggling free. She opened her mouth to cry out, but it was too late: the crucifix burst through, tearing a hole in her hand and then flying across the room until it hit the far wall and then fell to the floor. As blood ran down to her wrist, Wendy clambered off the table and dropped down onto her hands and knees, desperately trying to spot a glint from the crucifix in the low light. She crawled forward, running her hands across the dusty stones, trying not to panic as she remembered Sister Julia's warning to never let the crucifix go, not even if -
Stopping suddenly, she realized she could see something in the darkness ahead. There was a pair of bare feet standing next to the door, facing toward her. She could immediately tell that it wasn't one of the nuns. She froze, not daring to look up, remembering that just as she was never supposed to let go of the crucifix, she was also never supposed to look the demon in the eye, even though she knew he was staring down at her.
Crawling forward, she began to frantically search for the crucifix. Her hands ran across the dusty floor, checking the cracks between the stones, and then she turned to make her way toward the door, only to see that the figure was now standing in her way, as if to block her exit. Turning again, she crawled past the bed and over to the other wall, with tears in he eyes as she continued to look for the crucifix. She knew she was being watched now, and when she turned to check the next wall she realized that the figure had moved again, edging closer. She ducked away, terrified of being touched as she scrambled across the floor, looking around for any hint of metal glinting in the low light. The crucifix had to be somewhere, she knew that, but she felt as if she'd already checked every inch of the floor.
Frantically, she turned again, only to find that the bare feet and legs were now right in front of her.
She paused, fighting the urge to look up and see the demon's face.
And then, as if from nowhere, she spotted a glimmer of something resting on the floor over by the far wall. She lunged forward, almost falling flat on her face as she reached out and finally found the crucifix again. Clasping her hands closed tight, she pulled her fist to her chest and held it tight, before looking over her shoulder and see
ing that the figure was gone. She looked up, but whatever had been in the room with her a moment earlier, there was no sign of it now. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, as blood ran down from her hand to her wrist.
A moment later, the door opened and Sister Julia stepped into the room, stopping and staring in shock as she saw Wendy cowering on the floor.
***
“Mother Superior has read the texts,” Sister Julia explained a short while later, as she reached into the barrel of mud, “and she has learned that there's one thing the demon Drexial hates more than anything else.” She smeared more mud over Wendy's shoulders and up onto the side of her neck. “He hates being unclean.”
“But you're not making him unclean,” Wendy pointed out, wrinkling her nose at the foul stench. “You're making me unclean.”
“While he's in your body,” Sister Julia replied, “it's the same thing. This mixture was taken directly from the farm at the back of the monastery, from right next to the pig pen. Mother Superior says the demon must be as uncomfortable as possible when the next part of the exorcism begins. You're protected, you know.”
Looking down at the palm of her mud-smeared hand, Wendy saw the crucifix. Ever since Sister Julia had returned to the room, the crucifix had remained still, but the fresh bandage around the wound on her palm was already covered in dirt and Wendy felt certain that if Sister Julia left for even a moment, the demon would try once again to wrench the crucifix from her grip.