Another concussion boomed throughout the house. Wood fragments danced on the floor and a section of ceiling fell.
It’s not going to let me do this, Father MacLeod thought, but he saw the demon’s eyes were no longer focused on him but at the front door. Something was off. The priest followed the demon’s gaze.
The door burst open and the giant’s body filled the doorway. His shoulders lowered until his head came into view. He entered the living room, followed by the pawnshop owner.
Father MacLeod stepped back. As did the demon.
The pawnshop owner’s gaze landed on Celeste.
She’s alive!
Though he’d wanted the necklace returned, he was equally relieved that she appeared to be okay.
“Celeste, are you all right?” There was a possibility she was possessed, but from the expression on her face, he didn’t think so.
The woman nodded. “Yes, yes I am. Because of you.”
He smiled. “Well, that puts one issue to rest.” He held up the bag, “I’ve got one more that needs proving out.” He pointed to her. “Rex, would you please remove Celeste from this house.”
“No! Agnes and Nora are down there,” Celeste shouted before the giant could move. She pointed to the hole. “I’m not leaving until they’re safe.”
The demon took a step toward Rex. “No! They stay. They’re mine.”
Rex stood rigid, his face tight. The two didn’t take their eyes off each other for several moments.
The demon went to speak as his gaze went to the hole.
The giant pounced before the demon could get a word out.
With his fingers curled inward, forming a fist, Rex’s arm propelled from his side with the force of a launched rocket. His blow hit the dead officer’s chest, and the sound of the dead man’s ribs shattering was loud enough to hear. Jones’ body went limp and fell to the floor. The giant picked it up with one hand and threw it against the far wall, coming within inches of Celeste as it flew past her. Sheetrock crumbled, and the possessed man lay still on the hardwood. The pawnshop owner waited for it to move. Seconds passed, but the body did not reanimate.
Celeste pointed to the hallway that led to the kitchen. “The door to the basement is in there.”
The proprietor ordered Rex to retrieve the two women. The giant headed for the hallway as Father MacLeod approach the fallen demon.
“What now?” asked the pawnshop owner.
The priest shook his head. “I’m going to perform an exorcism, but something’s not right here. Maybe the demon is trapped inside the officer’s body, but I don’t know. This feels too easy.”
“Well, don’t waste time. Get on with it. I’ll stay with you until it’s finished.” He then said to Celeste. “You should leave now in case this isn’t over.”
“I’m not leaving until Agnes and Nora are safely outside.” She reached out to him. “And I’m not going without you.”
Unsure how to respond, he nodded.
Father MacLeod stood near the body and once again began reciting the rites of exorcism. While the priest went through the ritual, Rex retrieved the two women from the basement. Both were unconscious, nestled in the giant’s arms. The pawnshop owner removed his crucifix and placed it over Nora’s head. He fished a second out of his pocket and fastened the loop of string around Agnes’ neck. Celeste had all the protection she needed with the necklace.
“They’re hurt bad,” Celeste said, forlorn.
“Mr. Lewis is outside waiting. He’ll call an ambulance.”
As Rex walked out the door, Celeste focused her attention on the priest and listened to him chant in a mixture of English and Latin. Rex came back into the house and stood in the doorway behind them.
Celeste understood rudimentary Latin, but many of the words the priest uttered, escaped her.
Though she’d never been to an exorcism, she had either been taught during her discernment or learned through second-hand recounting about many of the cases. Recalling the instances, she’d hadn’t heard of an exorcism that was effective on the first try. It usually took several days, at least, for the ritual to prove successful. In other cases, like Catherine White, it could take months. She also knew of a few instances where the ritual had failed completely. But the effectiveness of this exorcism wasn’t the only issue bothering her.
What happened to the demon? Why isn’t it fighting back?
She shifted her gaze to Officer Jones’ body. There was no movement, no voice, and the demon didn’t appear to be reaching into any of their heads. The pawnshop owner’s assistant had removed Agnes and Nora with no trouble. The priest had a point—this was too easy.
“Hey, something doesn’t feel right,” Celeste whispered to the pawnshop owner. “Exorcisms usually take time—I’m talking days. Why does he think he can banish the demon so quickly?”
The man kept his voice low. “The priest has its name. From the books I have, they say names have power, and I’m guessing inserting its name into the ritual should be enough to send the damn thing back where it belongs.”
“Father MacLeod knows the demon’s name?”
“Yes.”
“How’d he find that out?”
“From what I understand, he got it from another demon, one who has possessed a woman.”
Catherine White! It made sense. But how was he able to get Catherine’s demon to give him the name of this one? That also seemed too easy, and it was making Celeste uneasy.
Officer Jones’ body rose inches off the floor and fell back. The stench of feces filled the room. “What the hell is that all about?” asked Celeste.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s the result of the exorcism.”
“Ugh.”
“Look,” the proprietor pointed, “It sounds like the priest is coming to the end of the ritual.”
Father MacLeod switched entirely to English, his voice rising to the point of shouting. He sprinkled holy water on Officer Jones’ body and placed his crucifix against the dead officer’s hand. “God demands you leave this man’s body. God demands you leave this house. God demands you abandon this earthly plain and return to the hell that has spawned you. Ancient demon, tormentor of Christ and his apostles, inflictor of suffering onto Mary Magdalene—”
Wait. What’s he talking about? This demon didn’t exist during the time of Christ and Mary Magdalene. It isn’t ancient. It told me it was of our time. Its story rung true, I believed it. Who does Father MacLeod think he’s exorcising? “Something’s wrong here,” she said to the pawnshop owner.
The priest’s eyes were shut, his face strained. “Now, ancient hellspawn, the power of God demands, you, BELPHEGOR, to return to the pits of hell!”
Ancient hellspawn? Belphegor? What the...? Oh, no!
The house went completely silent. The floorboards didn’t creak or moan when she took a step. The pawnshop owner’s lips moved, but he appeared puzzled when no sound came out. Were they both struck deaf? She pointed to her ears while shaking her head; he nodded and pointed with an index finger to his own ear. They both looked to Father MacLeod whose head was cocked to one side, his eyebrows arched, his lips pursed tight. He was as confused as they were.
A chilled formed on the back of Celeste’s neck. The hair on her head lifted and stretched out in front of her, the ends dancing before her eyes. A force pushed her backward, and the chill spread down her back. She looked to her right where the pawnshop owner was bent over, grimacing, struggling to stay upright.
The floor shuddered. Celeste looked to the living room. The debris had taken on life, bouncing across the floor and falling through the holes and into the basement. Paper and dust floated in the air, drifting toward and around them as if propelled by a silent wind.
Celeste was lifted from the floor. Instinctively she crossed her arms in front of her chest. When she hit the wall, they took the brunt of the impact, but her forehead slammed against the sheetrock. She slid to the floor, grunting. After
taking a moment to deal with the pain, she flipped around to face the living room. The wind continued its assault, forcing her to squint, yet she still saw little black stars floating in front of her. Her forehead was sore to the touch and she felt a lump forming.
Scanning the room, she saw Father MacLeod and the pawnshop owner on the floor on either side of her. Both were moving—hopefully not hurt. The position of Officer Jones’ body hadn’t changed.
A new shudder from the floor, much larger than the previous one, grew in intensity until the entire house was shaking. More of the ceiling dropped, exposing nearly all the rafters and plywood. The chair Officer Jones had been sitting in earlier slid across the room, lodging at a corner of the wall.
A yank on her arm forced a gasp; the pawnshop owner had gripped her. She put her hand over his. Pinned against the wall, she could do little as the wind pressed against them.
A huge figure appeared near the front door.
Rex. She had forgotten about him removing Agnes and Nora outdoors. He stood still, the wind having no effect on his bulk.
The pressure that had been holding her and the others against the wall vanished. She had battled it for so long her body jolted forward. Heavy breathing from her left and a sigh from her right caused her head to lift.
I can hear again.
The pawnshop owner and Father MacLeod jumped to their feet; she followed their lead. “What was that?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but do you smell that?” The pawnshop owner asked.
Celeste sniffed the air. “Yeah. It smells like sulfur.”
The priest sniffed, and dread filled his eyes. “Oh no.”
A column of flame, roaring, erupted from the hole in the center of the floor. Celeste backed up tight against the wall. She thought the heat would suffocate them all.
“What the hell is that?” she screamed.
Father MacLeod answered. As loud as the flames were, she had no problem hearing his reply.
“Belphegor.”
CHAPTER 26
Rex carried the two bodies out of the Moore house, one cradled in each massive arm. He approached Mr. Lewis and placed them gently on the ground at the old man’s feet. He tore a section from his blood-soaked T-shirt and bound it around Nora’s leg. The woman’s eyes were closed and she made no sound during the ministrations.
Mr. Lewis stared at the women at his feet. “Thank God, they’re alive.”
The giant nodded.
“Okay, I know what to do,” the old man said. “How are the others? Are they all right?”
Rex shot a penetrating glare at Mr. Lewis. After a few moments, the giant shrugged.
Mr. Lewis returned the stare, using the time to study the assistant. His eyes were wild. They’d been focused on him, but the old man noticed they weren’t still—they oscillated like angry flies caught in a jar. He thought the man insane, and he could only imagine what was going through the giant’s mind.
“You don’t talk much, do you, Rex?”
There was no reply.
Rex stepped back from Mr. Lewis and walked toward the house. He paused halfway to the door and spun around. The giant was having another look at the old man.
“Why do you keep staring at me?” Mr. Lewis held up his cell phone. “I’m calling for help—please, get back in there and get the rest of them!”
Rex didn’t move. He kept his gaze on Mr. Lewis. He must’ve come to some conclusion. He shook his head, turned, and continued back to the Moore house.
Once the giant passed through the front door, the old man tried to dial 9-1-1. His arm shook as if someone were pulling at it, preventing him from doing so. The tug of war lasted a few seconds. Instead of making the call, Mr. Lewis threw the phone to the ground. It landed next to his discarded flashlight.
The demon thought Mr. Lewis had more fight in him than that. Fleeing the house had taken more of a toll on it than it had anticipated. After leaving Belphegor’s summoning token of shit, it was glad to be out of the policeman’s body. While the old man wasn’t as physically agile as the cop, it was easier to manipulate a live person than a dead body reduced close to pulp.
It made its way past the women on the ground and trekked to the Moore house. When it arrived at the front door, Rex stood in the doorway. The demon took a position behind the giant.
CHAPTER 27
Father MacLeod was fixated on the column of fire. The flame erupting from the hole was a cylindrical column around three feet wide. It shot up to the ceiling but ended inches from it, avoiding contact. The exposed wood above exhibited no signs of scorching. The top of the column appeared flat, as if neatly trimmed by a pair of shears. Its roar rivaled that of a tornado.
The priest lowered his sights to the floor, which had not ignited; neither had any of the debris surrounding it. It doesn’t want to burn the house down. The heat was intense, but not enough to hinder his breathing or cause his clothes to smolder. He also noted a lack of smoke. There was a tug on his shoulder.
The pawnshop owner was shaking him. The man raised his voice above the roar of the fire. “What the hell did you do, priest? I thought you were exorcising the demon. It looks like all you did was piss him off!”
“I don’t know. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“I think I know,” Celeste interrupted, raising her voice. “I think I know what happened.”
In the middle of her sentence, the room went quiet and her last two words were loud enough to cause Father MacLeod to flinch. The silence afterward left a high-pitched ringing in his ears.
The priest snapped his attention back to the column of fire. The flames burned as brightly and feverishly as they had moments ago, but the flames were now coalescing, taking shape. Transfixed, the priest stared as fire molded into the distorted figure of an obese man. Arms with hands sprouting elongated fingers appeared, as did legs with cloven hooves. Below its massive torso, an erect penis sprouted. The flaming and flickering yellow, orange, and red physique continued to morph. What the priest took for fat kneaded and compacted into muscle, and a comparison to Rex entered Father MacLeod’s mind. It was short-lived. A head appeared. Horns, as black as coal and as pitted as corral, jut from the burning skull. Curved, the horns came to points reminiscent of a bull. A jaw formed. Below swollen lips stretched wide, an elongated chin concluded in a point as prominent as the horns. As fat as a sausage and as crooked as a bent spike, a nose formed. Above it, two ovals pressed out from the skull—eyes, so full of hate they burned a brighter red than the flames.
Father MacLeod had seen demons like this before in ancient texts and in paintings that hung in the bowels of the Vatican. They were one-dimensional, banal compared to what he was witnessing. None of his teachings—nothing he had ever experienced—prepared him for the atrocity born from this fire.
As the demon hovered, the flames all but extinguished. Smoke curled up from the body and vanished before it could hit the ceiling. Father MacLeod noted the skin covering the shape—it was as black as the dead officer’s eyes and crazed as well-used leather. The demon remained suspended over the hole, its bulk stretching from the floor to a few inches below the ceiling. Its eyes held the vestige of the flames: they focused on Celeste.
“Rex,” the pawnshop owner called, “I think we’re going to need you.”
Blocked from his view, Father MacLeod had forgotten about the proprietor’s assistant.
Behind the giant, a voice rose. “Rex, remain where you are. I’ll tell you when to move.”
The pawnshop owner’s eyes went wide. “Who the hell?”
Father MacLeod recognized the voice right away. “Mr. Lewis.”
The old man stepped from behind Rex, moving close to the hovering demon. “Well, yes and no,” he replied.
The pawnshop owner glared at Father MacLeod. “Did this just get worse?”
“Yeah,” said the priest, lowering his head.
Mr. Lewis laughed. “I disagree, priest. It seems to have worked out exc
eedingly well.”
“Okay. I’m guessing Father MacLeod screwed up. Instead of exorcising Bel—”, the pawnshop owner caught himself before speaking the name. He pointed to the beast hovering over the hole, “—Exorcising it, he actually summoned the damn thing.” He faced Father MacLeod. “You’re a damn priest! How the hell does that happen?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Could it have made you recite the wrong words?”
Mr. Lewis chuckled. “Correct, pawnshop owner, or should I call you, Smith? MacLeod isn’t as protected as he thinks he is.”
“You know who I am?”
The demon possessing Mr. Lewis nodded. “This vessel does, though it does not seem to be sure of your name. I look forward to seeing what’s inside your head. From what I gather, you might possess some objects in your shop that could assist me during my return—or at the very least, amuse me.”
The priest’s gaze swept toward the fiery demon. “Fuck all this talk. What the hell is this all about?” His focus then went to Mr. Lewis, “And who the fuck are you?”
The old man’s legs rose from the floor, his body rising until the top of his head was even with Belphegor’s. Mr. Lewis ignored the priest and spoke to the ancient demon. “Be patient a few more moments, my brother. You will have the woman, the pawnshop owner, and his assistant, to do with what you will. I’ll take the priest, but not right away. I want him to watch what you do to the woman.”
Belphegor nodded, a heinous and eager smile transforming its face. Celeste sobbed as the pawnshop owner held her in his arms, but it did little to stop her shaking.
“What’s this all about?” Mr. Lewis said, finally acknowledging the priest’s question. “It’s about you. You abused your authority, my trust. I brought my daughter to you for help; instead, you fucked my wife.”
The pawnshop owner shot the priest a look. “I know it’s a demon and all that, but how come I don’t have a hard time believing what he just said?”
The priest ignored the comment. He wracked his brain, searching for a memory of who the demon could be referring to. His eyes widened with the memory as it came to him. “You’re Melanie’s husband? James Moore?”
The Moore House Page 18