by Sabra Kay
I wanted a cigarette. Ayana was a powerful witch; I was lucky to be working with her. She was sharp, could see through anything, and while most witches had to exert immense personal energy to perform the opening ritual, she made it look easy.
Outside of Daniel Cervantes, we didn't know who else we were dealing with.
Our shoes crunched on the gravel as we made our way down the darkened road.
The warehouse was easy to spot. It was the only one with light spilling out of the windows, and when we were still, we could hear the faint sound of music playing. I'd stuffed my pistol in the waistband of my jeans, cursing myself for not having my shit together. Chuck led the way, with Ayana at his right, as Mina and I walked a few paces behind.
We weren't cops. We didn't have a warrant. We weren't above the law. What we did was risky, and more than one exorcism team had been arrested for what we were about to do. We had relationships with law enforcement, government, and people in the medical field, especially coroners and EMT's, but we were still risking getting busted for doing this.
We couldn't just rush the place. We had to knock and identify ourselves. On the off chance the subject was cooperative, our instructions were to perform the exorcism that they assigned us to, and nothing more. With that said, if the opportunity to rescue other humans from demonic clutches presented themselves, who were we to deny services? If things went south and the demon posed an additional threat to human life, and if it was impossible to separate the demon from the host, then so be it. Our number one priority was to preserve human life and evict the offending demon before it caused further damage to the human it possessed.
Chuck and Ayana took a few minutes to scout things out while Mina and I waited off to the side.
“You guys ready?” Chuck asked.
We both nodded.
Chuck knocked and waited, then knocked again.
Nothing.
Then, movement in the window.
We waited for about thirty seconds before Chuck shrugged and kicked in the door.
“What if it was unlocked?” Ayana hissed.
“Who leaves their door unlocked these days?” Chuck grinned as we took in the scene.
The warehouse was empty aside from a few pallets and empty racks. In the center of the warehouse was a single beat-up leather recliner. Seated in the recliner was Daniel Cervantes, and in his lap, a scantily clad brunette. They didn't get up, nor did they look alarmed by our presence. As we approached, I noticed empty bottles of booze scattered on the floor, cigarette butts, and a stack of empty pizza boxes.
“Hello, Daniel? Daniel Cervantes?” Chuck cleared his throat and smiled.
“That I am. Who might you be?”
The woman's gaze shifted from me to Mina to Ayana as Chuck spoke. I didn't like her, didn't like her vibe. She looked ready to pounce. I could feel it.
I could almost feel her thoughts.
The image of her tearing into Mina's throat with her teeth elbowed its way into my brain, and I had to shake my head to clear it out. I'd never considered myself psychic, never had premonitions or anything in the way of clairvoyance, aside from seeing what is unseen to most. Lately though, I'd get snippets, little blips of things to come, waves of feelings that were not the norm for me. Maybe my new job was strengthening my intuition.
“The name's Chuck, and these are my associates. We're here to help.”
Ayana smiled; Mina looked bored. I felt a growing anxiety tightening in my chest. Daniel showed no outward signs of possession. His expression appeared calm. There was no eye discoloration, sweating, erratic movement or behavior. There was no denying the aura swirling around him, though. No way to ignore the swarm of pestilence and the stench of rot coming from the both of them. He was pale, probably malnourished. First stage possessed would sometimes forget to eat or drink and didn't always bathe regularly.
“Did you hear that, baby? They're here to help.” She smiled a sickly sweet smile and began kissing him, swirling her disgusting tongue around his mouth.
“Aw shit. I can see where this is going...” I muttered under my breath.
Mina looked at me and mouthed 'gross.'
I nodded in agreement.
“Stay professional.” Ayana growled.
Our job had plenty of rules, policies, and procedures, just like a regular job. It was a huge letdown, and I was still disillusioned. I guess I thought a group of rogue Nephilim and Born Witches performing exorcisms and occasionally blowing holes through demon-addled, ax-wielding psychos meant we could be a little more lax, but I was wrong.
“Do I look like I need help here?” He grinned as the woman slid her hand into the waistband of his pants.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
Mina leaned in and whispered, “Hey, at least it's just the two of them, and they're still dressed.”
“Good point.”
We hadn’t been so lucky with the last job. I'd tried to block out the images. Thanks for bringing it back, Mina.
“Well, no—” Chuck began.
“Mr. Cervantes, you've got a demon inside you. We're here to get it out.” Ayana was getting impatient.
His eyes flashed ever so briefly, and his friend stopped her nonsense to scowl at us.
He looked at us for a moment, then burst into laughter. “A demon? Really? You guys have got to be kidding, right?”
“No, sir. We aren't.”
“Miss? I didn't catch your name. With all due respect, I think you've got the wrong... warehouse. We're just enjoying our evening. Now, why don't you show yourselves out before I have to involve the police.”
“Yeah, get out. Before I lose my sense of humor.” She snapped her fingers and pointed at the door behind us.
She was the one I worried about.
Chuck took two steps forward. “Thing is, we can't do that. Now, we can do this easy, or we can do this hard. What do you say?”
The woman looked down at Cervantes, and the aura between the two of them expanded, unfurling, roiling. She slid off his lap and stood, her face morphing from attractive and youthful into a feral, haggard, slug-ridden mess. Daniel stood, parasites slithering inside and around his body, occasionally dropping to the floor in a writhing trail below him. None of this had been visible to me when we'd walked in. They must've been using magic to project a façade.
Dark magic.
I felt the presence before I heard the footsteps and whipped my head around. A disheveled man in a stained white t-shirt, jeans, with bare feet slid through the door, baseball bat in hand. He looked terrible and smelled worse, but still bore the trademark good looks, amber eyes, and shit-eating grin I'd come to expect from his kind.
“Well, well. If it isn't the do-good crew.” The Cambion strolled in, pulling at his goatee, looking Chuck up and down, then glancing at me. “Oh, wait. My bad, you're just low-crawling half-breeds who aren't supposed to exist.” He sniffed the air, eyes on Ayana and Mina. “Ah, witch blood. My favorite.”
He licked his lips. Cambion sprouted fangs and had a penchant for blood, booze, and drugs, and this one was high as a kite on at least one of those. Vampires didn't exist, but, unfortunately, Cambion did. If I had my way, we'd be hunting them down like the rats they were, but we were limited to exorcising demons.
“If that isn't the pot calling the kettle black.” Chuck smiled, showing all his teeth.
I recognized the look in his eyes. He was in battle mode, but he was still smiling.
“Hey, we're meant to be here.” The Cambion squinted at Chuck. “We're intentional, not a side effect. Don't you find it just a little ironic that your heavenly superiors up there can swoop down at any moment and end you, yet they leave us alone? Angels, huh? And we're supposed to be the assholes.”
“Ouch.” Mina raised her eyebrows at each of us.
“Enough.” Ayana leveled a stern gaze at her.
Now we had Cambion boy behind us, and Cervantes and his... whatever she was, in front of us. Cervantes stepped a few feet closer to us, the w
oman at his side. He'd somehow become taller, wider, more. It was the demon inside, stretching itself, making itself more and more at home in his body. It felt threatened, too. Daniel's eyes had gone bad real quick, emboldened no doubt by the presence of the demon half-breed.
The woman stepped away from him, keeping her eyes on Mina. Her expression was one of pure, venomous hatred. I didn't know why she was targeting her, but the vision from earlier intruded yet again. I stepped closer to Mina, monitoring the woman, letting Chuck and Ayana worry about the other two. Mina was the only one out of the three of us with no weapons experience; she refused to pack a gun. She was a sweet girl... too sweet. Most witches abhorred violence, but you had to toughen up to do this job, and you had to be willing to defend yourself when necessary.
My guess was the woman had already hit third stage possession. At that point, the demon has integrated itself. Performing an exorcism was not always possible in this last stage. In third stage possession, the demon has a firm hold, and the human has lost all free will. It was better just to eliminate it, kinder even. The asshole possessor had done a number on this chick, damaging her body, scarring her brain, and destroying her soul. I bit my lip hard. We were too easy on their kind. Possessed may be human, but at this point, we should be able to just take them out, along with their spawn.
The stench in the place had become unbearable. What was it that made newly possessed people stink so much? Maybe they rotted from the inside, I didn't know, but it was stinging my eyes, and I could taste bile in the back of my throat.
No one made a move. The Cambion stood, examining his filthy nails, Cervantes swayed a little, eyes glazed over while the woman stood by like a viper, coiled and ready to strike.
Chuck finally broke the silence.
“All right then, Mr. Cervantes. I say we get started. I'll need you to lie down and relax. I won't hurt you, and if you don't struggle, it won't take long. You'll be feeling better in no time.”
Chuck and Ayana did this every time, taking a few moments no matter how crazy things got to tell the possessed what they would do. I figured it was a huge waste of time, but now and then, it worked, depending on where the possessed was in the process.
I knew full well Cervantes wasn't going to have it. He was in denial.
“Better? Feeling better? This is the best I've felt in months. I'm just now to the point of not wanting to put a shotgun in my mouth every morning.” He laughed. “No, man, you got it all wrong. I'm already feeling better.” He looked at Ayana, his arms stretched in front of him, palms up. “Please, just go. I'm not doing anything wrong. I don't want things to get ugly.”
I felt for him. Possession could be like a drug. The best drug you've ever done. I watched his face, his eyes. Right now, he was Daniel, grieving husband and father, desperate for relief, and desperate for a little peace. The demon inside him had latched on to that desperation.
Bastards.
I shook my head, feeling the hatred I had for their kind rising inside me, quickening my pulse and tightening in my chest. He must have felt it, too, because he shot me a penetrating look through his glowing eyes, as his lip curled ever so slightly into a contemptuous smirk.
“I want things to get ugly.” The woman said.
I'd been paying attention to Daniel and had forgotten about her. She'd edged closer to where Mina was standing.
“I'll start with Miss Pretty over here.”
And just like that, she was on her, lunging for Mina's face, teeth bared, growling, and ripping into her.
***
There was no way to put a bullet in her without risking Mina. I sprang at her from behind, wrapping my arm around her neck and squeezing it in the crook of my elbow, locking her in place with my other arm. She bucked and flailed as I tightened my grip, pulling up with all my might. Chuck was there in an instant, grabbing her legs while Ayana bound her ankles together. She continued flailing wildly, pushing off with her legs, using their bodies as leverage. We tumbled backward, and my body buffered her fall. My head slammed against the concrete floor as she reached back, clawing at my eyes and grabbing a fistful of hair. I saw stars and winced as she yanked out a chunk, but I didn't let go.
I heard a thwack and a guttural yelp, but I dared not open my eyes as her fingers searched and plucked, raking across my skin, carving my face with her razor-sharp nails. Ayana cursed under her breath. Chuck was down.
Impossible.
Still, I didn't let go. If I did, it would be over for us, I knew it. The door to the warehouse slammed open, and shouts and laughter filled the air. Now we were outnumbered. When I finally opened my eyes, it was Daniel I saw, standing in the middle of the warehouse, his body squirming with slugs and parasites, devouring the remainder of his humanity.
Chuck recovered and fired at the bat wielding Cambion, turning his attention to the problem at hand. He shouted for Mina to help, but she didn't move. In a flash, two more Cambion were on him, trying to knock him to the ground. Ayana was trying to help, but the Cambions were strong, and one sent her to the ground with an easy flick of his hand.
The woman's thrashing subsided from lack of oxygen. Just a little while longer and she would be still. With Chuck and Mina injured, I made the call to let go of the woman so I could help. I drew my gun on the man closest to me and fired while Ayana engaged with another. Cambion boy lay bleeding out on the concrete, and Chuck was back up, but they still outnumbered us.
“This is our house now, bitch.” The man towered over me.
Not a man. He was all demon and darkness and power. I leveled the .380 at him and fired. He flinched but kept coming, disarming me with ease and sending me flying across the warehouse floor without lifting a finger.
I saw that Daniel and the others had Ayana and Chuck surrounded. Two women were on top of Mina now, one of them a Cambion. The other was the possessed that I'd been working on, now revitalized by blood and the presence of her demonic kin. Mina was screaming.
I wasn't afraid for myself, but I was terrified for my team, and angry, so angry. I felt the heat of it. I felt as though I was burning. I clenched my teeth and pulled myself up, zeroing my attention on the two bitches who had Mina down. One looked up at me, smiling, blood dripping from her mouth, but then her smile faded, replaced with confusion.
A gunshot startled me, Chuck had one down, but two more were on him, wrenching the gun out of his hands and turning it on him. A knot formed in my belly. It burned and expanded and sent waves of heat through my body. Pins and needles erupted from my head to my toes. Chuck and Ayana struggled to gain the upper hand, but they were losing the fight. I cried out in rage and watched both women fly backward as though flung by some unseen force, then burst into flames.
I couldn't see. There was nothing in front of me but a flash of white light. I heard the screams of fear and agony, smelled burning flesh. Other sounds, too. Sounds that defied description, sounds made by no living being.
I fumbled, desperate to find Chuck and the others. Were they all dead? Was I? I called for him, but there was no answer.
Everything was burning.
And then it all went black.
Chapter Two
I woke up to the voice of my least favorite demon scum. The Reverend Billy Blaine's Sunday Morning Redemption Rally. My God, the man could go on for hours, and he did. His insane morning pep rallies were the wake-up drug of choice for hordes of narrow-minded, illiterate, corn-fed bigots and misogynists across the country. Why I tortured myself with this inane bullshit was beyond me, but I kept doing it. Just look at him. Spray-tanned madness served up with a side of hellfire and brimstone.
Good morning to me.
It had been a little over six weeks since the Cervantes job, and I was on administrative leave. I'd hit my head hard, they told me. And I was in deep shit because Ayana ratted me out for showing up under the influence. I had no idea when they were letting me get back to work. Most of the night was fuzzy, and everyone seemed pretty pissed off at me.
W
aking up to the Rev meant that it was somewhere between 7 and 9 in the morning. The only reason I was conscious this early was the pounding headache from lack of caffeine and the nicotine deficit from going too many hours without. Or maybe I was just hungover.
I woke on the couch most days. My bed was just a few feet away, covered in two weeks’ worth of laundry. I stretched and fumbled in the cushions for my lighter. I scanned the beat-up coffee table for my smokes and frowned at the collection of empty beer bottles. Instead of laying off the booze like I swore I would, I'd only gotten worse.
A look at my phone told me it was just after seven a.m. I scrolled past three messages from Harry, two from Darah, stopped on the one from Chuck, and smiled. Chuck was one of a kind, and while I gave him endless shit about his “A.M. Inspiration” texts, the truth was I loved them in a weird way.
“The practice of peace and reconciliation is one of the most vital and artistic of human actions -- Thich Nhat Hanh"
Then, “Wake the hell up, Grace, "
Okay Chuck. Peace and reconciliation. Pretty inspirational, coming from a demon hunter. I laughed out loud as I lit my cigarette and made my way to the coffeemaker. Every day was much like the next ever since I’d been on leave. Wake up, drink coffee, smoke, go back to sleep, wake up, watch television, eat, smoke, nap, wake up, more coffee. Most days included a stop at Harry's bar for “just one drink” and ended up with Harry and me, sitting at his bar until long after closing, talking, laughing, and barely making it up to his apartment before passing out.
Then I wake up, hungover and needing coffee. Some life.
The phone lit up again, buzzing insistently on the coffee table. My eyes narrowed as I took a leisurely drag. Who the hell is texting me now? I grabbed the phone. Uh-oh.
“Answer the phone. Three minutes.”
Yikes, my Father. Always father, never dad. He refused to talk to me on my mobile phone, insisting on the landline. I knew better than to ignore his request. This meant going upstairs, which was not my favorite place to hang out. I peeled myself off the couch, slipped on my shoes, and headed upstairs to my Mother's room. No sooner did I walk in the door then the phone began ringing. I plopped down on the blue velvet armchair, took a deep breath, and picked up the phone. He didn't wait for me to say hello.
