Hell’s Heresies, page 13
“Well, I get that now. You said—you said you were going to exorcise them, right?”
He sighed as they turned the corner onto Crenshaw. “I have to evaluate the extent of the damage.”
Another safe answer. He was the only one at St. Julian’s with the proper experience and know-how to observe the marks of demonic possession and summoning. As for exorcisms…he swallowed hard and quickened his pace.
“And then you’ll go all Father Merrin on those bitches, right?” Emerie half-tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and he slowed his pace to accommodate her. “The POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!”
“It’s more complex than that.” Father Zebulun hated films about demons; they always made exorcisms seem so simple. Eighteen hours was considered a short exorcism.
“Furthermore, I may not be able to do it alone. I may have to call for assistance. And that gets…tricky.”
“You seem like this is a pretty standard day for you,”
“It is not.” His voice was close to a snap. “Not anymore. And we best pray the infestation is something I can handle, because if it isn’t… The Catholic Church requires extensive proof of possession before they will authorize assistance.”
“I haven’t been possessed.” Emerie pointed at her house—it was three doors down. “I mean, I guess those Neo-Nazis have, but—”
“Legion is a relatively minor demon. It was not hard to banish it, though it will in all likelihood find another mob to inhabit. It’s actually far more concerning there even is a Neo-Nazi group in Milton…” They stopped in front of Emerie’s house.
“What was the demon you originally summoned?” Father Zebulun knelt and dug his fingers into the lawn. He withdrew some of the soil and inhaled deeply. Graveyard dirt. This house was built on death.
“Samael. He was the one who was haunting my house.” Emerie plucked a few blades of grass and tied them in a knot.
“There are symptoms with demonic possession.” Father Zebulun took a few steps forward into her yard. He was hit by a wave of nausea—he could feel the demonic presence wrapping around him like a straitjacket. It was a wonder it didn’t seem to bother Emerie! People could usually feel when places were contaminated by demonic sources.
“I would have to provide tangible evidence,” he said wearily, and muttered a Hail Mary for good measure. “Photographs, video recordings, or—”
The front door flung itself open and something came hurtling outside. A demon landed in a crumpled heap a few feet away from them, like a pigeon that crashed into a window.
Father Zebulun staggered. Humanoid demons were by far the most dangerous—and this one was no exception. He was a good seven feet tall, the color of slate, with tar-black wings. Horns crowned his head and a horrifying tail snaked along the ground by his feet. He was straight out of a John Milton play with hypnotic, seductive eyes.
Incubus. Father Zebulun had seen them before.
“Would he work?” Emerie asked Father Zebulun.
“BASTARD SON OF A WHORE TO LUCIFER I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU—”
“Yo Sam! There’s a man of the cloth here, tone down the language!” Emerie shouted at him.
The demon whirled around in a fury. Priest and demon stared each other up and down. Father Zebulun took a tiny step in front of Emerie. His hand shifted towards the interior pocket of his jacket.
“You better not throw a crucifix at me!” The demon folded his ebony wings around his shoulders like a cape. “We’re locked out.”
“What do you mean locked out?!” Emerie started towards the door. Father Zebulun snatched her wrist.
“Stay back, Miss Fox. I will deal with the demon inside after I take care of this one.” Incubus. Incubi preyed on young women and men, seducing victims with pleasure and lust…sometimes worse.
“Oh, for Lucifer’s sake.” The demon glared at him. “Trust me, altar boy, you got bigger problems than me.”
“What do you mean?” Emerie stepped around Father Zebulun.
“I mean Beelzebub is currently inside and is intent on destroying your house.”
As if on cue, something punched out the stained-glass foyer window. The air around the house vibrated and there was a pungent stench of rotting eggs and urine. Before their eyes, piles of garbage appeared on Emerie’s front porch, and Father Zebulun heard the distinct sound of something chewing.
Emerie screamed in horror and wrenched herself away from Father Zebulun. Ignoring both the demon and priest’s bellows of warning, she sprinted to the front door. Despite what Samael had said, she easily yanked it open and disappeared into the dark entryway.
Emerie could not have been gone from her house more than a few hours. And yet, her home had become a hoard—piles and piles of garbage carpeted her hardwood floors, unfamiliar ammonia-scented clothing littered every table, and black flies buzzed around every antique light fixture. She choked back a sob when she entered her living room—curtains were ripped down and a thick layer of goo ruined her careful wall painting.
The smell of sulfur grew stronger.
Stacks and stacks of newspapers she’d never seen before littered her couch. She whimpered at the sight of the mess. She had absolutely no idea how to clean it all up and the thought that some nasty demon would ruin all of her hard work made her hyperventilate.
“IDIOT!”
Samael’s voice was a harsh whisper-yell, like a mom chastising her kids in public. He wasn’t exactly tiptoeing—the massive amounts of garbage and clutter all over the floor made that impossible—but his footsteps were careful. He snatched her arm and pulled her in the direction of the foyer.
“We have to get out now.”
“I’m not giving up my house!”
“Miss Fox,” Father Zebulun followed directly behind Samael, crucifix held aloft. “I’m afraid I must agree—”
“You know how much the down payment was?!” Emerie tried to cross the living room to get to the hallway. There were garbage bags in the kitchen—maybe if she started tidying now, she could get it manageable before Dylan came home…
“Did you hear me?!” Samael hissed at her. “Beelzebub will devour you if you linger!”
“Fuck Beelzebub!” Emerie shouted at the top of her lungs. “What kinda bills does that asshole pay? Get outta my house!”
There was an audible THUMP coming from the ceiling. Taking advantage of this distraction, Emerie waded away from Samael and Father Zebulun, through ankle-deep garbage, until she reached the hallway and stairwell.
It felt like she was climbing a slippery hill. She reached for the banister and recoiled when she felt how sticky it was. She forced herself up the stairs, ignoring the unpleasant squishes and smells she clambered through.
There was another loud THUMP-THUMP from upstairs. The attic. The demon wrecking her house must be in the attic. It occurred to her that rushing haphazardly into her attic (which was now an apparent hole into the netherworld) to lecture the demon turning her house into a landfill was perhaps not a wise idea. However, as with most of the reckless decisions she had made within the last couple weeks, she decided it was too late to stop now.
“Miss Fox!”
Father Zebulun was at the bottom of the stairs. He looked stricken and Emerie was almost touched at how worried the priest seemed. (Samael was right next to him but his expression was one of annoyance, not concern.)
“Get down here!” The priest attempted to stagger up the stairs after her and immediately fell.
“When you get eaten, don’t come crying to me!” Samael shouted at her.
Emerie stepped away from them. The upstairs seemed less affected—she could see the floor and the stench wasn’t as strong. She was a little nervous that she hadn’t run into the demon who booted Samael from the premises. She walked towards the attic door and cautiously opened it.
Nothing sprang out at her. In fact, all was dark, save for a strange sort of gray billowing fog that crept down the attic stairs.
“The tear’s grown bigger. The entire attic will be a gateway by sundown.”
Emerie jumped. Somehow, both priest and demon had managed to make it up the Everest of garbage. She half-wondered if Samael had magicked them up here, but doubted it—the priest was giving the demon as wide a berth as he could.
“Something’s coming down the stairs.”
Father Zebulun was right—a dark figure crawled down the attic staircase in slow, stilted movements, apparently having trouble with the steps. It sounded like…hoof beats? Or coconut shells? Emerie was suddenly struck by a mental image of Monty Python and giggled in spite of herself. Father Zebulun looked at her.
Emerie cleared her throat. “Sorry.”
“Don’t bother with her.” Samael snorted. “I’ve been trying to get her to take this situation seriously from the get-go with absolutely no luck.”
Father Zebulun did not answer, only stared at him quite coldly. The three of them watched the creature clop down the stairs—its breaths were hoarse and raspy.
Father Zebulun opened his mouth, perhaps to bellow a damning condemnation of the beast.
“Wait!” Samael said suddenly. “Wait—I know him!”
Emerie stared at him in disbelief. Samael stepped in front of them, peering intently into the silver-gray smoke, which curled around the creature.
“Orobas?” Samael called.
The demon paused in its descent. Its head rose to face the four of them, at the bottom of the stairs, and Emerie was shocked to see the creature had the head of a horse. In all respects, it seemed to be the size of a Maine coon with hoofed back legs…but it stood upright. The torso was human too, but covered in velvety thick fur. Its eyes were somewhat alarming—bright green human eyes on a horse, which gave Emerie a terribly unsettling feeling.
The creature looked like it was about to speak, when suddenly it recoiled, as though being burnt.
“I command you, unclean spirit, whoever you are, 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—”
Samael howled in pain. Emerie watched, almost paralyzed, as Father Zebulun raised his crucifix and continued in a relentless, unforgiving tone.
“By the descent of the Holy Spirit—see the cross of the Lord, begone you hostile powers!”
“Stop!” Emerie cried. “You’re hurting Sam!”
The words were startling. She had known it was his intent to exorcise the demons—all of them. But somehow seeing Samael crumple before her, to experience the ringing in her ears, the persistent, harsh, and cruel words of the exorcism…
“Not yet!” Emerie bellowed. “Just wait!”
Father Zebulun ignored her, his voice dark and terrible. “Almighty Lord, Word of God the Father, Jesus Christ, God and Lord of all creation—I cast you out, unclean spirit, along with every Satanic power of the enemy, every spectre of hell, and all your fell companions, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ!”
The creature on the stairs wailed. Samael fell to his knees as he clutched his head. Emerie shouted again, her words incomprehensible. She tried to grab the crucifix away from the priest, but to no avail; Father Zebulun only held it higher. The entire house shook at Father Zebulun’s words and she heard something deep within the bowels of the foundation.
Laughter.
“Something’s wrong!” Emerie tried to say. “You have to stop! Father Z!”
The laughter rumbled through the house. Father Zebulun’s exorcism marched on. The creature on the stairs began to smoke and Samael cried like a child.
Someone shoved past Emerie and snatched the priest’s face. Zephyr Moon stared deeply into his eyes.
“SLEEP!”
At once, Father Zebulun fell against her, nearly knocking her over. She groaned in disgust and shoved Father Zebulun aside none too gently. Emerie stared at her in shock.
Zephyr glared at her. “Are you trying to destroy the entire neighborhood?!”
FIFTEEN
The creature had stopped howling. It stumbled away from the attic staircase and looked up at them with an expression of utter betrayal. Samael grunted and Emerie helped him stand.
“I’m going to have such a migraine,” he grumbled. Once he was relatively stable, Emerie knelt next to the priest and checked his pulse.
“You all are idiots,” Zephyr hissed. “Can’t you feel what’s inside this house?! A simple little priest chant isn’t going to do anything!”
“I thought you weren’t going to help!” Emerie lowered her voice to match Zephyr’s whispers. “I needed someone, okay?” She examined the priest carefully. Father Zebulun’s breathing was deep and even. He really looked asleep.
“You all right, Orobas?” Samael looked towards the stairs. The demon glared at him in displeasure.
“I am feeling aftershocks of residual pain after a partially performed exorcism,” the demon called Orobas retorted as it completed its descent down the stairs. “And I am extremely annoyed.”
“Join the club!” Zephyr pointed at Father Zebulun. “Grab the stiff. We need to get out of this house.”
She pointed at Samael who groaned loudly, but picked up the priest with ridiculous ease. He slung him over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Emerie, however, backed up against the wall.
“I can’t leave this house. I can’t let Beelzebub destroy it.”
“There’s nothing you can do.” Zephyr didn’t even bother looking at her; her attention was on Orobas, as though deciding what to do with him.
“I’m not going to abandon my home.” Emerie’s hands clenched into fists.
Samael’s head tilted towards her. “It’s my home too. I know it sucks. But Beelzebub is playing with us. We need to regroup. Figure out a plan to get it back.”
His voice was surprisingly soft. She blinked at him, a little jarred the declared her house his home too.
“I just…I worked so hard on it.” The words broke a little in her mouth.
“I’ll help you fix it.” Samael promised. He shifted Father Zebulun a little in order to extend his clawed hand towards hers. Slowly, she took it.
The moment was broken by Zephyr snarling at Orobas “Don’t make me regret knocking him out. If you try anything, I’ll happily finish the exorcism myself.”
Orobas glared at her disdainfully. “I never betray my conjurer.”
He shoved past Zephyr’s knees to perform an elaborate bow before Emerie. She nodded awkwardly.
Zephyr pulled out a small plastic bag from her tote. It was filled with rock salt, the sort the residents of Milton put on their driveways and walkways after the first frost. She grabbed a fistful and approached the stairs.
“Hm.” She considered the staircase. Somehow, in the last five minutes, the mess had grown even worse. It wasn’t even a staircase precisely anymore. It just looked like a towering hill of garbage and refuse. Probably exactly what Beelzebub was going for. She looked towards Emerie.
“Any other way downstairs?”
“Uh…” Emerie considered. “I guess jumping out one of the bedroom windows—hey, Sam can fly us out!”
Samael glared at her. “I haven’t flown in over two thousand years and I can’t carry you all!”
Zephyr frowned. “Sam?”
“She has odd little naming habits.” Samael shook his head.
“What if we tried the master bedroom?” Emerie looked down the hallway. “The window’s next to a tree…”
Zephyr assented by striding down the hallway and kicking the bedroom door open. Emerie winced visibly at the mark on her door but did not respond—it seemed a minor issue compared to the rest of the chaos within the house. They piled inside and Emerie noticed something strange.
Her bedroom was untouched. The master bedroom had been the only room in the house that was completely unpacked, painted, and decorated. She had replaced the ugly floral drapes with delicate wispy curtains that floated in the breeze. She had torn down the tacky yellow wallpaper (odd wallpaper colors seemed to haunt the house as much as her poltergeist) and painted it a beautiful Tiffany box blue. (Dylan had protested that the color was “girly” and had been subjected to an hour-long rant on assigning gender to paint colors until he submitted out of pure exhaustion.) She had a few framed photographs on her walls (her father was an amateur photographer) and her bookshelves were alphabetized. The largest bookshelf had come with the house, a gargantuan chestnut behemoth, with a garish carving of a monster with seven heads, each lined with ten horns. Dylan had wanted to get rid of it as it “creeped him out”, but Emerie refused.
There was no clutter, no garbage, and nothing carpeting her floor with chaos and refuse. Just an eerily cold stillness.
“Um…” Something unpleasant crept into her gut. Emerie edged towards the corner of her bed, where her bokuto lay. She slowly lifted it. “Guys…?”
Zephyr struggled with the window while Samael dumped Father Zebulun unceremoniously onto Emerie’s bed.
“Help me open this!” Zephyr snapped.
“It’s just—” Emerie took a further step inside. As soon as she did, the door slammed behind her and the room went dark.
It didn’t make any sense. It was still daylight outside—sunlight should be streaming through her wafting curtains. And yet, it felt like the power had just been cut in the middle of the night. Emerie swallowed hard and raised her bokuto threateningly. She tried to push away one thought.
Trapped.
“Well, that’s not good.” Emerie squinted and tried to force her eyes to adjust. “Can anyone see anything?”
“We can.”
Samael’s eyes glowed amber in the dark while Orobas’ green orbs had shifted to a burnt orange. The eeriness of their stares reminded Emerie they were demons…and though Samael clearly did not like Beelzebub, if the tides changed, Emerie and Zephyr were outnumbered.
It seemed Zephyr thought the same. “Emerie. Can you hear my voice? Come over here and take my hand.”
The oddly calm voice unnerved Emerie—Zephyr sounded like a mom requesting her child come away from the bobcat in the alley. Emerie took a shaky step forward, keeping a wary eye on Samael and Orobas’ unnerving stare, her bokuto not precisely aimed at them, but still between them. She reached out in the direction of Zephyr’s voice, fingers groping for her hand.
