“God, please, save me!”
Surrounding the face, deep fissures sprouted. A sound like logs burning in a fire pit followed as the seams grew. The door bulged outward, the fissures growing wider at the strain. A crack as loud as a felled tree rang through the room. Celeste covered her face and eyes, tensing, waiting to be hit with debris, but moments passed and she felt no pain. She lowered her arms. All that remained of the door were splintered shards clinging to the hinges. Wood fragments covered the floor in front of her, but none within three feet of her. The body of Officer Jones stood in the doorway. His dead, vacant eyes glued to hers. Behind him the hallway was no longer visible; all she could see was black.
The demon stepped forward.
Celeste’s heart pounded. She drew back against the wall, and when she could go no farther, she raised her arms as shields. Eyes squinted, teeth gritted, she waited for the demon to take her.
It stopped in front of her where the spread of debris ended, and though the demon tried to push closer, he was not able. It stood still, head cocked, staring at Celeste. It remained motionless a minute, and then lowered itself to the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of her.
“Well,” it said, “You are different.”
Though Celeste knew it was the demon who sat before her, she couldn’t help but think of Officer Jones. There was no doubt in her mind the man was dead. Was his soul still earthbound, trapped in his body? Did it travel to God’s heaven? Or was the demon’s power so great the man’s soul was delivered to hell? She mentally recited a prayer for the officer, asking God to forgive him for any sins he may have committed. She kept her eyes open and focused on the demon while she prayed. It didn’t look away from her.
Why didn’t it take me? Why did it stop there? Why does it think I’m different?
The answer came to her. It’s the necklace.
Her body relaxed as hope took root. She thought back to her visit to the pawnshop and the owner loaning her the wooden cross. His thoughts about the necklace protecting the wearer from harm were true. She hoped she’d get the opportunity to tell him if she ever saw him again. Her hand rose to her cleavage, but she stopped herself and let the cross lay flat over her heart. The demon didn’t seem to know why she was protected, and she saw no reason for it to have that information.
Even with the necklace, she was still trapped. The demon had physical power over the house and everything in it. It could open a hole beneath her if it so wished, or it could make the ceiling fall. She doubted the necklace would prevent its weight from crushing her. From what she’d witnessed, the demon could cause everything around her to disappear, leaving her afloat in a black void. Maybe it could do those things, but why hadn’t it? It sat, staring at her, allowing her to live. At least for the moment.
Celeste fought the urge to grasp the necklace. If it were indeed protecting her, she would take advantage of his lack of knowledge for as long as she could. She had no idea how to respond to the demon, or if she should even engage it. Hoping a prayer might offer some defense, she started reciting the Lord’s Prayer out loud. “Our Father, who art—”
“Cut the shit, Celeste.” Its voice was even, almost parental. “Invoking Him will only irritate me further at this point, and you don’t want to do that. I may not be able to see what’s going on in that head of yours, but I can still make your physical presence uncomfortable.”
Celeste did as she was told. “What do you want?”
“I had planned to fuck with you before I dragged you down into hell like I did with Agnes and Nora,” the demon answered.
At the mention of their names, Celeste swallowed hard.
The demon laughed. “Yes, they’re mine now, as you’ll soon be. You’re all foreplay. It’s like having appetizers before the main course. Your leader, the priest, is on his way here, and that’s when my fun actually begins.”
Celeste blinked. Her earlier suspicions that Father MacLeod was involved with the demon were correct. Had the priest known he was the demon’s quarry? If so, why did he send the team to the Moore house? Would the demon explain it to her? If Father MacLeod was on his way, maybe he had a way to exorcise it. She had to buy some time.
“How come you don’t talk like a demon?” she asked. “You talk like someone from our time, not like someone centuries or millennia old.”
Officer Jones grinned. “That’s a thing with you Catholics. All your demons are as ancient as the scripture you quote. Much of what you’ve been taught about us is as fanciful as the piety of the saints you worship. Reformed holy men versus the unrepentant fallen. Have you ever thought, Celeste, that the modern Church has no problem bestowing sainthood on men and women who’ve passed on fairly recently, but when it comes to demons, we’re regulated to the Dark Ages? Take Josef Mengele, for instance. He was even called The Angel of Death. Wouldn’t he fit the definition of a demon? I can tell you Mengele is one of us, and he is thriving.”
Her face tightened. “What? You’re saying Mengele is one of hell’s demons?”
“Yes. Satan is especially proud of him. The Angel of Death is responsible for serial killers Michael Swango, Maxim Petrov, Harold Shipman, and Anders Hansson. All were medical professionals, all were possessed by Mengele.”
Celeste leaned forward. “And you? What of you? Are you saying that you’ve lived in recent times? That when it comes to evil and possession, you have a specialty?”
The demon ignored her questions. “Have you noticed you can see me clearly? The sun has set and there’s darkness surrounding me, yet light radiates from you. I don’t think you notice it.” It paused for a moment. “You’re much different than the others. There is more to you. I don’t understand…but I will.”
She took her eyes off the demon to glance around the room. Her view was not impeded by the lack of sunlight. However, she didn’t see herself as the source of any powerful emanations—to her she appeared normal. She craned her head to the window. Where the heck was Father MacLeod?
“He’s on his way.”
She redirected her gaze to the demon. “I thought you couldn’t get into my mind.”
The demon shook Jones’ head. “You looked at the window. I’m also guessing you believe you’re stalling me.”
She had no reply. Strangely, the demon went silent. After minutes of staring at each other, Celeste was compelled to ask, “Why are you waiting for Father MacLeod?”
“I want him to watch when I eat your soul.”
Its words froze her. Could the demon harm her while she wore the necklace? Had it figured a way around it? Was it bluffing? Keeping her eyes on the demon, she lowered her head and asked, “Why?”
“We have time, so let me tell you….”
CHAPTER 22
Mr. Lewis pulled up to the curb; no one else had arrived yet. He considered leaving the car and standing in the yard to wait but based on his conversations with the other two men, this demon was powerful. Mr. Lewis wasn’t sure the damn thing couldn’t reach out to him while he sat in the car, but based on their earlier visits, he thought he’d be safer here. The moon was full and the night cloudless, giving him a clear but shadowed view of the house. He kept watch.
Five minutes later, another car pulled in behind him. The pawnshop owner exiting the vehicle; Mr. Lewis grabbed the flashlights and opened his door. As he got out of his car, he noticed the man was clutching a bag. He approached him, handing over a flashlight.
“What do you have in the bag?”
“Something that may or may not help us. I need Father MacLeod’s advice on it. Where is he?”
Mr. Lewis shook his head. “I don’t know. He told me he was on his way.”
The man sighed. “We don’t have much time.” He gazed at the house. “It might already be too late.”
The old man nodded and turned to the house. “Yeah, it’s awful quiet. I almost expect to hear screams coming from it.”
“Maybe the screaming is over.”
Mr. Lewis shuddered. “I hope not. I
want to save those women and get rid of that demon. After that, one way or another, I’m going to demolish that damn house.”
They heard Father MacLeod pull in behind the pawnshop owner’s vehicle. He climbed out of his car and walked to the two men. He held a book in one hand and what appeared to be a small vial in the other.
“Gentlemen,” he greeted. To the pawnshop owner, he said, “You wanted the name of the demon because you thought you might be able to assist us with it. You got the name. Now, what kind of help can you offer?”
“I’m not sure what value this may be.” The proprietor opened the bag and withdrew a wooden bowl.
The priest glared at him. “What the hell am I supposed to do with that? Serve him a salad?”
A flash of anger surged the store owner's eyes. “It may have belonged to Mary Magdalene. She—”
The priest interrupted him. “I know who Mary Magdalene is, or should I say, are. You do know there were possibly two Mary Magdalenes?”
The man nodded.
“Do you know which one this might have belonged to?”
“I can’t be certain, no.”
“Even if it did belong to the one who is said to be the arch-enemy of the demon, what am I supposed to do with her bowl?”
The man sighed. “I don’t know. I thought it might help.”
The priest returned the sigh. “Okay, bring it in; who knows. You gentlemen ready?”
Mr. Lewis nodded, but the man who said to call him Smith needed more time.
“I’m waiting for my associate to join us. He should be here any moment. Give him five more minutes. He’ll be able to help us.”
The priest sneered. “How? What’s he bringing? Forks?”
A grin appeared on Smith’s face. “You’ll see.”
CHAPTER 23
Celeste thought she heard car doors and hoped it was Father MacLeod bringing help. The demon didn’t react to the sounds, so maybe it didn’t hear them. Or maybe it didn’t care. She prayed it was the former and prodded the demon to distract it. “Yes, tell me the story.”
“Time is endless where I come from,” it began. “We have no way of knowing how much has passed until we come back into this world. For those destined to suffer eternally, they’re always in the moment. They have no perception of a ‘later on,’ an ‘afterward,’ a ‘tomorrow.’ Their torment is constant, unending, with no comprehension of future escape. Others such as myself are the fortunate ones. We have Satan’s blessings. We are the tormentors, those who have excelled in doing the Devil’s work while we lived. We hold a special place in his kingdom. Though I had no way of knowing how much time had passed until I came back to this world, it appears I pledged my devotion to Satan ten years ago.
“I made a bargain with Satan before I entered his kingdom. I requested to come back so I could fuck over those who had wronged me while I lived. I promised him souls. I was mentored, and I ascended to the unholiest of ranks by a demon who had been banished back to hell by an exorcism….”
“If Satan was going to collect those souls anyway, why did he need you?” Celeste interrupted.
“There’s no guarantee a soul will be delivered to him. Redemption is possible in your god’s eyes. I’m ensuring that those who are on Satan’s path stay there.”
“What does all this have to do with the Moore house and Father MacLeod?”
Officer Jones’ body tilted forward. “Impatient? Though your priest has arrived and is standing outside, we still have some time.”
Adrenaline surged through Celeste. Father MacLeod was here! It’s planning something. But what?
The demon leaned back. “Fifteen years ago, I was of this world. My child took ill, acting strange. I became convinced she might be possessed. When a behavioral specialist couldn’t diagnose her problem, I persuaded my wife to contact an expert on demonic possession.”
Celeste’s eyes widened. “Father MacLeod.”
“Yes. The shit bag agreed to meet with us but insisted it be at our home. He took more interest in my wife than he did my child. I would catch him checking out my wife with more than simple appreciation. She was built, Celeste, built like Nora—busty, voluptuous. Speaking of Nora, I can assure you MacLeod is well acquainted with her body.“
Celeste gasped; she couldn’t help herself. Pushing aside the shock, she thought about the accusation. What were the odds of Nora having an affair with a man? Then again, the accusation came from a demon, a master of lies.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Let me into your mind, I will show you.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
The demon’s eyes drilled into Celeste and a scheming smile transformed his face. “One day, I came home to find my daughter sitting in front of the television set, and that hypocritical fuckhead in bed with my wife. She was sitting astride him, in the throes of passion, submitting to him in a way I had never experienced as her husband. She was too lost in her frenzy to notice me standing there, but MacLeod saw me and just smiled. The cunt put his hands on my wife’s thrusting hips and smiled at me.”
Celeste lowered her head at the image.
“God had forsaken me. Mocked me. I never told my wife I had seen her with the priest. Instead, I spent more time with my daughter. I was right. She was possessed, and the child shared with me the wisdom and sweet promise of Satan. I spent years delving into Satanism, real Satanism, not the play-nice shit you find on the Internet. I made contacts with the right people and learned the rituals. I surrendered my soul. After I moved my family here, I struck a deal with Satan. I killed my whore wife and daughter as an offering. Butchered them in the basement. I joined up with both of them in hell.”
How many deaths was this demon responsible for? Celeste recalled the contents of the police folder sent to her computer the previous evening, which seemed so long ago. Those deaths were a lure, a way for the demon to get Father MacLeod to this house.
“The time is now, Celeste. Follow me downstairs.”
She felt safe there, against the wall, wearing the necklace. “No.”
Officer Jones’ body suddenly stood, yanked upright as if attached to strings. “It seems I cannot physically or mentally touch you, but the same isn’t true for our surroundings.”
The floor beneath Celeste groaned as cracks formed in a radius around her. They expanded across the floor and toward her like dozens of small black snakes.
“If you don’t follow me, I’ll meet you downstairs.”
The floor groaned louder, pieces falling away. A vibration hummed through her bottom, her body sinking about half an inch into the floor. She yelped and scrambled away. More of the floor fell, leaving a three-foot gap. She stood and faced the demon.
“I’m not walking into that void.” She said and nodded to the hallway.
The blackness beyond the doorway vanished, and the interior of the house came back into view. A sickly hue of yellow light illuminated the hallway.
“I want the asshole to watch what happens,” the demon said as if reading her mind. “I’ll savor the expression on his face when he sees what I do to you and your two friends. Now, follow me.”
CHAPTER 24
Agnes craved sleep. Her head lolled as she struggled to keep her chin off her chest. If she let it fall too far, pain from her right shoulder assaulted her with the ferocity of a pit bull. She thanked God she was lying on her left side. The torment originated at her collarbone, radiating down to her elbow, below which, she couldn’t feel a thing. Arm movement, no matter how slight, begat thousands of knife-like jabs.
Where the hell am I? The pain fed her confusion. She couldn’t concentrate, and the surrounding darkness was no help. Her thoughts clouded and her head dropped. Snapping it back up, she cried out in pain.
“Agnes?” Someone called her name.
She forced herself to think clearer, to focus through the pain. Images flooded her mind. In an instant, it all came rushing back to her, culminating in the confrontation with the demon in
the hallway. She recalled the visions it cast, how it mined her memories and caused her to relive them. Wincing, she saw Linda leaping off the chair, then remembered the dead woman calling for her to join her in hell. The last image she recalled was of the ceiling as she fell through the hole on the floor.
“Agnes?”
Was it Linda calling to her? No! Please, don’t let it be Linda!
“Agnes! Are you okay?”
No, it wasn’t Linda. “Nora, is that you?”
“Yes, Agnes. Oh, thank God, it’s you! There was someone else here. I—I think he’s gone now.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m behind you. I’m hurt, hurt bad. It’s my leg.”
It sounded like Nora. But what if it wasn’t? There was no way to know without having a good look. Still, she longed for it to be her partner—it would mean Nora was still alive. An idea came to her. “Nora, if you can, clear your mind. If you can’t, think about kittens, flowers, anything but the situation we are in. I’m going to ask you a question. You will need to answer it right away. No hesitation at all. I’m going to give you a few seconds before I ask it. You okay with that?”
“Yes.”
Agnes silently counted backward from thirty. When she reached zero, she asked, “Nora, recite Ephesians one-seven.”
“In Him, we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace.”
Agnes choked up, letting out a loud sob. She couldn’t be sure, but she hoped that scripture wasn’t on the top of a demon’s tongue. Nora didn’t hesitate with her answer, and she recited it with grace and authority. “It is you. Thank God you’re alive.”
Nora let out a grunt. “Yeah, I’m alive, but I feel half-dead. Your turn, Hebrews nine-twelve.”
“He entered once for all into the holy places, not by means of the blood of goats and calves but by means of his own blood, thus securing an eternal redemption.”
Nora broke down. Her sobs carried through the room.
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