Death Eater Complete Collection

by Catherine Stovall

  Zane stooped down to retrieve the bible, and as he stood, he held it loosely in one hand while the other clutched a small white card. He paused, reading the back before handing the slip of paper to her.

  “Looks like we may have just found our answer.”

  Vega turned the card over in her hand, reading the words aloud. “Thomas Koskinen: Exorcist, Demonologist, and Spiritual Advisor. I think it’s a hoax. You know these types of guys are all smoke and mirrors and bullshit.”

  Zane sighed. “It’s the best shot we’ve got. Try to be positive. No one in this day and age believes in demons, Vega. Not even the church.”

  “Irony at its best. Let me grab a shower while you pack the car. We might as well give this demon guru a go. There’s one of those big we-carry-everything stores across the street. We can run over and grab some supplies on the way.”

  ****

  Within the hour, Zane and Vega had used her newfound wealth to purchase clothes and other supplies. Their shopping trip lightened their mood, and as they walked to the car, they held hands—almost feeling normal.

  As Zane placed their bags in the backseat, Vega watched. Her eyes lit up with the fire of the girl he’d known in their first lifetime. Without warning, he grabbed her, pulled her close, and placed a kiss on her lips that spoke volumes of how the moment made him feel.

  She melted into his kiss but then pulled away. “Zane…”

  He placed his finger on her lips to stop the words from coming. “Don’t say it. I know I’m not whole. I know I’m not myself. I just wanted to kiss you. This is the best moment we’ve shared in a very, very long time.”

  The tears sprang to her eyes, and Vega leaned in, giving him a kiss to rival the one they’d shared a moment before. Pulling away, she whispered, “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” he murmured the words into her hair as he held her tight.

  With a poke to his ribs, Vega giggled. “Come on, let’s go do this.”

  ****

  The sign outside the two-story brick house looked exactly like Thomas Koskinen’s business card and was the only thing distinguishing the two-story brownstone from all the rest. A neatly trimmed lawn boasted small shrubs and flowers, and even a little garden gnome bravely guarded the cobblestone walk.

  “Well, this is the very last place I would have expected to find a Hoodoo Doctor,” Vega quipped.

  Zane snorted. “Vega!” Between hushed chuckles, he grabbed her hand, and led her up the walk.

  “What?” She tried to look innocent, but a spark of mischief gleamed in her eyes.

  They both fell silent, as they stepped up on the wide front porch, and Zane rang the doorbell. Within minutes, a voice called out and footsteps approached.

  “If he’s so powerful, how come he didn’t know we were here?” Vega whispered from the corner of her mouth.

  Zane gave her an impatient frown. “Nowhere on his card did it say he was psychic. Quit playing around.”

  Vega opened her mouth to pop off with another quick retort, but the door opened at the same time, effectively silencing her. Her mouth still agape, she stared at the man before them.

  “You must be Vega and Zane.” The gentleman greeted them as he shoved his hand forward.

  Zane smiled, turning on all his charm. “Yes, sir. Thank you for agreeing to see us.” When Vega did not add to his sentiments, he turned to nudge her.

  Her expression remained a mix of surprise and disbelief. Eyes held wide, she stared forward as the blood drained from her face. Though her lips trembled, she could not manage to make a sound.

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” Thomas asked, real concern etching into his handsome features.

  Vega blinked, once, then twice, and slowly nodded. “It’s just that…you look so familiar.”

  Zane took her arm, pulling her closer to him, and whispered, “Please tell me you’re not joking around.”

  Vega frowned, deep lines etching at the corners of her pretty mouth. “Zane Allistor, how dare you?” Her bubbling rage disintegrated the confusion clouding her mind, and she turned her attention to Thomas. “Please forgive my rudeness. You very closely resemble a boy I once knew. I apologize.”

  In response, the exorcist turned and motioned for them to enter his home. “I understand. Deja Vu can be a very powerful conduit for the spirits. Sometimes, it can knock us off our guard. If it isn’t too personal, may I ask who?”

  The interior of the house was clean, orderly, and as non-descript as one could make a home. Vega paused, just inside the entryway, her eyes searching for something that might trigger the name.

  “I don’t remember his name. He was a boy I once knew, a very very long time ago. Somewhere hot. Somewhere the dust storms destroyed. My brother, I think.” She focused harder, feeling the room sway, but unable to stop herself from trying to push through the din of her memories into her past life.

  “Excuse me? Did you say dust storms?” Thomas stared at her, pondering her strange words. “There haven’t been dust storms in this country that bad since the Depression.”

  Zane grabbed her arm, trying to propel Vega forward. “She’s tired. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

  Thomas had the look of someone who knew they were being lied to but could almost accept the lie more than the truth. Without warning, his hand snaked out and gripped Vega’s wrist, bare skin on bare skin. She tried to jerk away, but in a moment of intense shock, she locked eyes with the man and began to tremble.

  Zane growled, his outrage instantly bringing the demon to the surface, but his concern for Vega holding it back from the killing edge. With a hard shove, he screamed, “Get off her!”

  Thomas stumbled and fell, breaking his hold on Vega. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, voice weak. “I didn’t mean to. I had to know what she is. Who she is.”

  Zane hovered above him, fist clenched at his sides, chest heaving, and the demon dancing in his eyes. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you now?”

  Vega, still too shocked to intervene, quietly whispered, “Zane, no.”

  Using his feet to scoot his body backward, Thomas tried to back away. “I’m sorry. I had to know. You can’t kill me. Please don’t hurt me. I can help you. I… Her brother… Was his name Toby?”

  Vega blanched. “Yes, that’s it. But how did you know?”

  Thomas pointed at a picture on the wall above him. A young man with the same blond hair and square jaw stood beside a smiling woman, staring at the camera. “My grandfather lived through the D-depression. He had a sister named Vega. She…died.”

  Zane advanced. “You think some story of your ancestors knowing her gives you a right to lay your grubby hands on her?”

  Thomas scooted backward. “Please. Don’t hurt me. I swear to God, I can help you.

  “God? What do I care of God or your help?” Zane was no longer speaking. The demon had risen, full force, and it was hungry again.

  Thomas held up his hands as if he could somehow fend off the invisible link already wrapping around him—a deadly python preparing to attack.

  Zane took a step nearer, a feral smile pulling at his lips. “And the angel said unto me, ‘Ye may eat the flesh of kings, and the flesh of captains, and the flesh of mighty men, and the flesh of horses, and of them that sit on them, and the flesh of all men, both free and bound, both small and great.’”

  Thomas squirmed, his back arching as the first whips of pain lashed into his skin. His voice rose in a cry of agony as he struggled. “No! Don’t!” After a long minute, his body fell slack, muscles twitching. Tears rolled down his scrunched face as he tried to curl into the fetal position.

  “The taste of death is sweet, but agony gives it the spice I crave. How long do you think I can make you suffer? How many bones do you think I can snap? How many internal organs do you think I can burst? I think you are a strong man. How long do you think you can withstand the torture before you di—”

  The crash of glass resounded through the room, and Zane fell to t
he floor. With a final groan, his eyes fluttered, and he lay unconscious at Vega’s feet, surrounded by the shattered pieces of a once pretty vase. Her face held the shock of her actions, but her eyes burned with anger. To hate the demon and love the man was her biggest anguish.

  ****

  Hours later, Vega knelt beside the bed, dabbing a cool cloth to the still seeping wound on Zane’s head. “Are you sure this will work?”

  Thomas stood at the foot of the bed, bible in hand. “I have no clue. How can anyone know how an exorcism will go, especially when you are dealing with a demon such as Ronwe? The power to manipulate a person’s mind and body is a difficult obstacle.”

  She’d explained everything once Thomas had recovered, and they’d secured the unconscious Zane to a metal bed frame stored in the basement of the house. Though Zane’s attack had been horrifying, it had saved her a lot of time trying to convince Thomas the demon was real.

  “You think the drugs will keep him subdued enough not to use that power?” she asked, doubt evident in her voice.

  Coming around to the side of the bed, Thomas knelt beside her and took her free hand. “There is no room in this for uncertainty. You must believe in my ability, in Zane’s strength, and in your devotion. Above all, you must believe in the power of Christ.”

  She studied his eyes, and in them, Vega saw proof that he believed they could save Zane. “I can. I will. I have no other choice. I did this. I made the man I love into a monster that I hate. I will do anything to save him.”

  Thomas patted her hand and nodded. “Then let us begin.”

  Chapter Seven

  Vega stood beside Thomas, their heads bowed as his voice rose in prayer. She focused on his words as he asked the Lord to bless them, protect them, forgive them their sins, and to assist them as they fought to rid his servant of the demon.

  When the prayer was finished, he produced a vial of holy water. First anointing and crossing himself, he then did the same for her. All the while, his eyes held hers, dancing with the belief she’d seen before.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  Facing Zane’s unconscious body, Thomas raised the holy water in one hand and made the sign of the cross with the other. Name after Holy name, he invoked the Lord, Christ, the Holy Spirit, and the Saints. After each name, he flicked his wrist and sent a splash of holy water sailing onto Zane. Where the droplets fell onto skin, smoke rose up in wispy tendrils.

  Through the first names, Zane did not budge. He lay as if merely sleeping, the hit to the head and the heavy dose of valium working to keep him unaware.

  Vega uttered, “Pray for us.” Conviction making her voice strong.

  Zane began to stir.

  Fingers gripping the metal rails at the foot of the bed, she repeated the words. Her eyes locked onto Zane’s form as he moved, arching his back and pulling at his restraints with his eyes still closed. Vega’s heart went out to him, her beloved. He looked as if he were suffering a nightmare. She had to fight the urge to go to him.

  Thomas went on and on, reciting the Lord’s Prayer and then reading Psalm Fifty-three aloud, and Vega followed suit as she’d been told. The room grew unbearably hot, and then unbearably cold. Together, they sweated and shivered as Zane moaned, trembled, and pulled at the tight ropes binding his hands and feet.

  Vega fought the doubt creeping into her mind. His vague response seemed anticlimactic compared to what she had been prepared to witness. She prayed silently as she spoke the words Thomas had instructed her to say aloud. Her inner voice called out to God, begging him to release Zane from the death eater’s grip.

  The Psalm ended, and Thomas cautiously approached the head of the bed. With one last look back at Vega, he dipped his fingers in holy water and allowed the drops to fall onto Zane’s forehead.

  “God, whose nature is ever merciful and forgiving, accept our prayer that this servant of yours, bound by the fetters of sin, may be pardoned by your loving kindness.

  “Holy Lord, almighty Father, everlasting God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who once and for all consigned that fallen and apostate tyrant to the flames of hell, who sent your only begotten Son into the world to crush that roaring lion. Hasten to our call for help and snatch from ruination and from the clutches of the noonday devil this human being made in your image and likeness. Strike terror, Lord, into the beast now laying waste your vineyard.

  “Fill your servants with courage to fight manfully against that reprobate dragon, lest he despise those who put their trust in you, and say with Pharaoh of old, ‘I know not God, nor will I set Israel free.’ Let your mighty hand cast him out of your servant, Zane, so he may no longer hold captive this person whom it pleased you to make in your image, and to redeem through your Son; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, forever and ever.”

  Vega’s whispered amen drowned as Zane roared to life, his scream a duplicity of devil and man.

  Thomas did not step away, nor did he flinch in the face of the devil. “I command you, unclean spirit, the demon known as Ronwe, along with all your minions now attacking this servant of God, by the mysteries of the incarnation, passion, resurrection, and ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ, by the descent of the Holy Spirit, by the coming of our Lord for judgment, that you tell the day and hour of your departure. I command you, moreover, to obey me to the letter, I, who am a minister of God despite my unworthiness. Nor shall you be emboldened to harm in any way this creature of God, or the bystanders, or any of their possessions.”

  Zane’s eyes flashed wildly around the room, finding purchase when they stopped on Vega’s shocked face. “You murderous, traitorous bitch,” he growled. “You did this to me. You made me what I am. Don’t look so pathetic. No one else sold my soul to the devil for the price of their own worthless life. You caused my suffering.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she lifted her fingers, shocked to find them wet with fallen tears. All her fears were summed up in those terrible, truthful words. Her greed had condemned them to die, had destined them to live the hellish existence of so many lifetimes, and had brought them back from death’s door. She knew these things with her whole heart but had never atoned for that sin.

  “Zane, please—”

  “No, Vega. Do not speak to it. That is not Zane, it is Ronwe, and the demon lies.”

  Thomas didn’t turn away from his mission, but she could feel the heat and fervor in his words. Her lips sealed shut, and her heart broke a bit more.

  Except they are not lies.

  Thomas thrust his arm forward, and his palm pressed against Zane’s forehead as the demon bucked and cursed. Strings of obscenities and threats filled the room between deafening roars. Sweat poured from his body, and the veins in his neck pulsed as he fought against the exorcism.

  Still, Thomas did not back down. “They shall lay their hands upon the sick, and all will be well with them. May Jesus, Son of Mary, Lord and Savior of the world, through the merits and intercession of His holy apostles Peter and Paul and all His saints, show you favor and mercy.”

  Zane lurched, his body contorting against the restraints as they dug into the fragile flesh of his wrists. “You son of a whore. I shall be here on Earth while you are ashes in the wind and worm rot in the grave. I shall always be. I am Ronwe, the eater of death, the destroyer of life.”

  Vega could barely focus, her teeth chattered in the cold, making her vigilant repetition of the word amen stutter. Weakness settled in her knees, and her mind seemed to haze. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was rest. Just for a little while. The urge to curl into the fetal position and ignore all the bad things pulled at the corners of her mind.

  Eyelids growing heavy, her body swayed. Still, she could not focus. Thomas’s murmured words had faded from shouts to a soothing hum. She wanted a blanket, something soft and warm. As if her wish had been granted, she could almost feel it being wrapped around her. The protection from the cold felt so comforting, she could hardly s
tand not lying down right there on the floor.

  Only a single, nagging thought kept her upright. An idea that there was something very important going on around her, something she needed to do. It danced lightly across her thoughts, like a nymph in its agility, impossible to catch.

  Vega swayed again and leaned forward on the rail, fighting for balance. The room was gone, only darkness surrounded her. There, in the midnight depths, she was safe from the thing she could not remember. She didn’t have to feel the cold or the fear the thing it brought with it.

  The lulling murmur of Thomas voice became a fading cadence, and in the distance, she saw the movement of shadow on shadow. Vega watched, fearless as the thing in the dark edged closer. Its shifting steps were stealthy and swift, making it look as if it were part of the darkness rather than taking cover there.

  “Say my name, Vega, and I shall lead you into the light,” a hauntingly beautiful voice coaxed.

  “I do not know your name.” She felt the genuine confusion ricochet through her, shaking her senses.

  “Yes, you do,” the shadow coaxed. “You’ve known me for many lifetimes.”

  Vega stepped forward, the familiarity in the tone tickling her mind. She didn’t want to go back to the world, back to the pain of the thing she didn’t want to face. Something there meant sadness, hate, and heartache for her. In the ebony abyss, only the voice and the feeling of safety existed.

  “I have been with you for so long. Say my name, Vega.”

  She saw him then, the beautiful blond man. His face looked like an angel’s though his eyes held a certain cruelty. She remembered good things about this man. The feel of his arms holding her as a child after her parents had died. She’d loved him, she’d wanted him, and she’d shared secret passionate moments with him over decades and decades. Always, he had been there, the owner of that voice. He’d known her, and though tragedy had forsaken her time and time again, he’d been there.

  “I do know your name,” she whispered, her voice sounding very far away to her own ears.