The Moore House

by Tony Tremblay

  “I was.”

  “So, you planned all of this to seek revenge on me?”

  “I did,” said the demon. “I needed one of your empaths to host a demon-brother, and Catherine White worked perfectly. When you visited her, you thought my brother was going to give you my name, but instead, he gave you my mentor’s, Belphegor. Belphegor taught me everything I’ve learned in hell, priest. I not only caught on quickly, but the pupil soon turned into the master. In return for mentoring me in the dark arts, I pledged to end his banishment if he would follow me upon my return. A deal was struck.”

  The priest lowered his head. He was the cause of all of this: Catherine’s possession, Nora and Agnes teetering on the edge of death, Celeste possibly being raped by this new demon he called forth. This, in addition to the other people the demon had claimed over the last six months. He needed to do something, but what?

  “Hey, priest.” It was the pawnshop owner. “You brought us here to die. Couldn’t you have brought something with you other than your useless exorcism babble that would’ve protected us?”

  Father MacLeod wondered what the man was talking about. They had discussed the perils of battling the demon and the man had agreed to come of his own volition. The pawnshop owner researched the demon on his own. He didn’t have to...wait. The bag. He caught sight of it on the floor. Inside, the bowl that might have belonged to Mary Magdalene. It was near the proprietor’s feet, close enough for the man to reach down and grab.

  The priest made eye contact with the pawnshop owner, then directed his gaze to the bag and then back to the man’s eyes. The shop owner pursed his lips and blinked in return.

  

  Nerves raw, Celeste flinched when the pawnshop owner turned his back to both demons and whispered to her, “You need to trust me.”

  His hand shot out. He gripped her by the neck and spun her away from the wall. Though his hold on her was enough to get her moving, it was not so tight as to cut off her breathing. She had a sense of relief when he released the hold, but it was brief. He gathered her hair in his hand and yanked hard. Her head snapped back, and his other hand pressed against her shoulder. He pushed her toward Mr. Lewis.

  A moment earlier, she’d acknowledged her trust in him, but now she wasn’t so sure. What is he doing?

  The pawnshop owner addressed the old man. “Mr. Lewis—or whatever you are—I need to talk to you.”

  “Stay where you are.”

  The man complied.

  “What do you want?” the old man asked.

  “I’m a bystander in this affair. I have little to do with this woman or your revenge on the priest. Let me go.”

  The demon stared at him. “You are merely one more soul for Satan—he doesn’t care how innocent you are in this matter.”

  “I understand, but what if I made a deal with you? Give you something, and in return, you let me leave here intact?”

  “What can you possibly give me that I can’t take?”

  He pushed Celeste closer to the demon. “Her.”

  Celeste stiffened. She twisted to escape his grip, a painful decision, as he turned his wrist to wrap her hair tighter around it. Her back arched, she gritted her teeth and grunted as she tried to balance herself.

  “What are you doing?” she shouted.

  The demon was thoughtful for a moment. “Go on.”

  “The reason you can’t possess her is she’s wearing something that prevents you from doing so. I will remove the item and place it on me. She’ll be yours to do with whatever you will, and I’ll walk out of here unharmed.”

  Celeste gasped. He’s betraying me to save his own skin.

  “I see,” the demon replied. “So, that’s what prevents me from getting into her mind. If this vessel I occupy knew of the object, I’m impressed he was able to hide it from me. You have a deal. Take the item and leave. Though be aware we will meet again.”

  The pawnshop owner pulled Celeste to within three feet of Mr. Lewis. He reached out with his free arm, snaked his hand down inside her blouse, spread his fingers and searched until he found the cross.

  Celeste didn’t fight him, her only hope being that this was part of a plan, though she couldn’t imagine what it was.

  He grasped the cross, lifted it out from beneath her blouse and displayed it to the demon. When the demon nodded, the pawnshop owner released his hold on Celeste and pulled the necklace up over her head.

  Celeste pushed back from him, shaking. “I trusted you.”

  “That’s your mistake, Celeste,” the pawnshop owner responded. He faced the demon and lifted the necklace above his own head.

  When the demon inside Lewis faced Celeste and grinned, the pawnshop owner sprang forward with the necklace held high before him.

  There was enough time for the old man’s eyes to widen, but nothing more. The pawnshop owner quickly slipped the necklace over Mr. Lewis’ head and tackled the old man to the floor.

  “Rex, help me hold him down,” the shop owner pleaded.

  The giant stared at the two men on the floor. His eyelids drooped, as did the corners of his mouth.

  “Rex,” the pawnshop owner cried out again. “Please, help me!”

  “No,” Mr. Lewis calmly stated. “Rex, take this fool off of me and hold him. I’m going to delight in his agony.”

  The giant remained unmoving.

  “Rex,” demanded the demon. “You belong to me! I order you to take this man off of me!”

  The giant’s eyes widened, but his frown deepened. He lumbered over to the two men on the floor and knocked the pawnshop owner off the demon with a mere wave. He took a heavy breath and placed one of his huge hands on the demon’s chest, covering the cross with his fingers. Lowering his head, he brought his face within inches of the demons. “I belong to nobody,” he hissed.

  “Rex,” the pawnshop owner said, “The demon is trapped inside Mr. Lewis. We don’t want to hurt the old man unless we have to. Hold him for now—don’t let him remove the necklace. And cover his mouth.”

  “Belphegor, kill them all, now—” The demon in Mr. Lewis demanded, but it never finished getting the words out.

  The pawnshop owner turned to the priest. “The bag, hurry!”

  The hovering, ancient demon let out a roar. A gust of wind carrying the scent of sulfur swept Celeste to the floor. She pushed herself up to see the demon, its eyes ablaze, trained on hers. Both hands gripping its erection, it bent forward at the waist, its head snaking toward her. As it moved closer, its lower body pivoted up until it was horizontal to the floor. It floated, hovering over her like a wolf with prey. She instinctively curled into a ball, protecting her crotch with her hands. She turned her head to gaze up at the demon, its face inches from hers.

  She screamed, but only once. A nearby voice cut her off. It was loud but calm. And familiar. “Belphegor,” Father MacLeod said.

  The ancient demon cocked its head to the priest, who was standing close enough to touch it.

  Celeste wondered what Father MacLeod was holding.

  Was that a bowl?

  

  The wood was thin, greasy to the touch. It had a slight film of dirt and the priest’s fingers slipped over its surface. Clutching the bowl tightly, he hurried to Belphegor. It was levitating horizontally, leering at Celeste. The demon’s hands clutching at its groin made its intentions obvious.

  The priest held the bowl with the inside facing the beast.

  What the hell am I supposed to do with this? Macleod wondered.

  His hands shook. He thought back to his teachings and readings on Mary Magdalene. He could recall no mention of a bowl, or of how the woman’s demons had been vanquished. A hollowness spread through him. He was a helpless man whose bravado and self-assuredness had deserted him.

  As loathe as he was to do it, Father MacLeod closed his eyes and prayed. God, I need some help here. I’m not asking for myself, but for Celeste and the others. Please, God, do with me whatever the hell you want, but help me save them
.

  The priest opened his eyes. Not that he’d expected otherwise, but nothing had changed. He sighed. He had an idea, nothing grand or complicated, but it was the best he could come up with at the moment. He spoke the demon’s name again. “Belphegor.”

  Belphegor’s gaze went from the priest to the bowl.

  Father MacLeod stepped closer and slammed the bowl down over one of the demon’s horns.

  Shit, nothing’s happening.

  Belphegor stared at the priest for several seconds and then swung its arm, batting Father MacLeod away as if he were an annoying fly.

  The priest hit the wall hard enough to leave an imprint and then slid to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. His vision blurred as he struggled to remain conscious. When he focused on Belphegor, he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

  Belphegor had both hands on the bowl, pulling and pushing, struggling to remove it. It bellowed in frustration, then the rest of its body went into motion. Its legs swung outward, Belphegor dropped to the floor, and then stood upright. Its bulk wavered as it worked to pry the bowl off its head.

  The demon is shrinking.

  No, I’m wrong. It isn’t shrinking; the bowl’s descending.

  The priest shook his head in disbelief. Holy shit, it’s working.

  Belphegor’s grunts of frustration turned into howls of panic. The bowl inched its way down, and the ancient demon’s screams brought the priest’s hands to his ears. Like pulled taffy, Belphegor’s eyes elongated and thinned as the bowl covered them. Father MacLeod blinked when he realized that the wooden vessel was not so much pressing down onto the demon as it was sucking the creature up. A tearing noise, louder than the beast’s howls, sifted through the priest’s hands and into his ears. Belphegor’s nose lifted and disappeared into the bowl. Like melting plastic, the flesh on the ancient demon’s cheeks twisted and knotted as the wooden vessel funneled them up. The howling ceased when its mouth vanished. As the bowl continued to descend, the demon’s body stilled. Its bulk impeded the progress but did not stop it from completing its task. The priest lowered his hands and stared as Mary Magdalene’s bowl sucked up what was left of the demon. Neither blood nor bones littered the floor, and the sulfuric stink of the beast lessened. Minutes later, Father MacLeod heard a muffled clunk as the bowl contacted the floor.

  Belphegor was gone.

  The priest looked up to see Celeste and the pawnshop owner staring back at him.

  The pawnshop owner said in a low disbelieving voice, “It—it worked!”

  The priest let out a breath. “No shit. But we’re not done yet. Don’t touch it.”

  Father MacLeod picked himself up, removed the vial of holy water from his pocket, and splashed the bowl. He dug his crucifix out, turned the bowl over, and placed the cross inside. “Now I’ve got to figure out what to do with this thing.”

  “I’ll take it,” the shop owner said. “I have something in my shop—it’s called the Prexy Box—that should hold Bel…it. The demon will be in good company.”

  The priest’s expression tightened. “What the hell kind of pawnshop are you running?”

  “Exotic items.”

  “Hey, guys!” Celeste’s voice cut off their conversation. Pointing, she added, “We’ve got another problem here, and it’s getting worse.”

  Both men turned to see Mr. Lewis and Rex. When the giant screamed, they both took a step back.

  

  It wasn’t the old man’s body Rex struggled against. Mr. Lewis was fragile, and he couldn’t have topped 140 pounds with his clothes on—it was the demon, trapped in the old man’s body, trying to get into the giant’s mind. The visions, creeping in and out of Rex’s consciousness, some flickering like an old movie reel sticking to the gears, had him shaking his head violently to dislodge them. Images of his past—the killings, the tortures, the women who had betrayed him floated in front of his eyes, and then vanished when he refused to emotionally react to them.

  The demon was rooting around in his subconscious, plucking out various memories with which to tempt or taunt him. What the demon didn’t understand was that Rex had not only come to terms with what he was, he reveled in it. But that wasn’t to say the probing didn’t have an effect.

  Rex was insane. He was functional to a high degree, but on occasion, the chaos in his head was too much to handle. During those moments of high tension and confusion, he’d seek out the pawnshop owner, who knew how to deal with him. Most of the time, the man locked him in the back room of the shop until the episode passed. If there wasn’t an opportunity to seek out the owner, his madness reigned—resulting in death and destruction.

  The urge to kill was building inside Rex. The demon had hit pay dirt.

  Like a sheet of paper pushed under a door, images of women forced into degrading acts slipped into the giant’s mind. Depictions of animal cruelty followed. When the demon saw it was getting a reaction, it combined the two. Rex grimaced as he fought the demon’s influence. His eyeballs rose high into his lids. He strained to concentrate. A moving image of his mother, beaten to death by his father, nearly broke the giant. He screamed his rage, but the movie persisted. Rex had reached his breaking point. He released his hand from the old man’s mouth.

  

  “Rex, no!” the pawnshop owner shouted.

  The giant’s hand shook as he lowered it back over Mr. Lewis’ mouth.

  “It’s the demon,” Father MacLeod said. “It looks like your assistant is losing the battle.”

  “Can you do an exorcism rite?”

  The priest exhaled loudly. “I can try, but I doubt there’s enough time.”

  “If Rex loses it, he’ll kill the three of us.”

  Celeste broke into the conversation. “Can you delay it? Hold him off for another minute, maybe two?”

  The pawnshop owner frowned. “I can try. Why?”

  Celeste pointed to the necklace around Mr. Lewis’ neck. A tear slipped from her left eye. “When Father MacLeod tells you to, remove the necklace, put it on Rex’s head, and stand far back. Then, only when told, remove it from Rex, and then place it back over my head.”

  The pawnshop owner squinted. “I don’t understand—you want to let the demon out of Mr. Lewis while protecting Rex?” He glanced at the priest, hoping the man could clarify what she wanted him to do.

  Father MacLeod appeared to be just as confused. Then his eyes widened.

  “Celeste!” The priest’s voice was loud, urgent. “No!”

  “I have no choice, Father. I’ll be counting on you later on.”

  The pawnshop owner shook his head. “I don’t understand what’s happening here.”

  “There’s no time to explain. I want to thank you. You saved my life.” More tears. “Come on, let’s do this now before it’s too late.”

  She led the pawnshop owner to Rex and Mr. Lewis. “Try to keep Rex calm; I don’t need much time. Remember, stand way back after you place the necklace on Rex.”

  “But …”

  Celeste glared at the pawnshop owner. “Just do it!”

  The man nodded and leaned toward his assistant. “Rex, it’s me. You have to hold on for another minute. Can you do it?”

  The giant ceased his thrashing. He stared at the pawnshop owner with eyes that blinked white, then black. His upper body vibrated as he struggled for control. “It—it’s showing me things…”

  “I know, but we may be able to stop it.” The owner turned to watch the ex-nun.

  Celeste stood stock-still, her eyes closed, hands hanging limply at her sides.

  “Get ready,” directed Father MacLeod.

  “But—”

  “Look,” the priest retorted, “I don’t like this any better than you do. But it’s our only chance.” He paused for a moment. “I’m waiting for a sign. When I get it, I’ll let you know.”

  The proprietor swallowed hard. He nodded and faced the giant. Celeste walked up to Mr. Lewis, kneeled, and placed a hand on the old man’s hip. The pawnshop
owner waited for the prompt. It came, not as a shout, but with a barely spoken whisper when MacLeod said, “Now.”

  The pawnshop owner leaned over, and despite the old man’s attempts to break free of Rex, he removed the necklace from Mr. Lewis with little trouble. He placed it over the giant’s head. With a quick gaze behind him to avoid any holes in the floor, he stepped away from Rex and the demon. He turned his attention to the priest, whose eyes were locked on Celeste.

  

  Celeste closed her eyes.

  She focused, pushing deep into her mind.

  She was floating.

  Darkness surrounded her. It was absolute—until it wasn’t. The tiny pinpricks of light she had equated to stars blinked into existence, filling the distant void. Though she was once again in what she thought of as God’s universe, her emotions were anything but blissful.

  There was a pull; her unearthly body flinched.

  Someone was calling to her. The voice wasn’t comforting.

  She held back. It was too soon.

  Celeste prayed. She waited.

  But not for long.

  The demon slammed through her mind. Snapshots of her past sins crowded her thoughts. Scenes, one after another flashed before her of Father Montclair, standing in the shadows at the back of the room as Mother Superior forced Celeste to strip naked. Then, a view of the switch held in the old woman’s hands as she struck it against Celeste’s buttocks, the scene morphing to wet, angry welts. Celeste saw herself wincing in pain at the start of the beatings, until her face twisted with pleasure. She heard herself moaning as the Mother Superior massaged the bruises, and then slip her wrinkled hand down, between Celeste’s thighs. The sounds of Father Montclair masturbating filled her ears. The images were momentary, but each spiked a visceral reaction. After leaving the convent, she battled the dead feelings inside her soul from her participation in those perverted acts. She had betrayed God’s faith, and the guilt proved to be overwhelming. Leaving the Sisterhood, she sought therapy, both spiritual and psychological. Over time, the counseling succeeded, and she had come to terms with her actions. Making peace with herself allowed her to function, to continue to do God’s work, culminating with her acceptance into Father MacLeod’s team. Seeing these scenes of her past not only rekindled her guilt, but also those suppressed urges for forbidden pleasure. She fought back by concentrating on God’s immense love and authority. The images abated as wisps of ebony smoke materialized in front of her.