Battle of the Soul

by Carl Alves

  Lucas rushed into the room. “What’s going on?”

  Kate grabbed Lucas’ hand and dragged him toward the bed. “He opened his eyes. I saw him. It was just for a second, but he opened them.”

  Holly couldn’t be sure if this actually happened, or if Kate’s imagination was in overdrive.

  Kate let go of Lucas’ hand and shook Andy. “Please, Andy, wake up.”

  Holly pulled back her daughter. “Don’t do that, Kate. He’s not well.”

  Kate violently released herself from her mother’s grasp. “No. I’m telling you the truth. He opened his eyes. I saw it.”

  Lucas knelt and looked at Kate. He spoke with a gentleness that Holly had not seen from him. “You can’t force this to happen. If Andy gets better, he has to do it on his own. Just because you want it to happen, that doesn’t mean it will happen.”

  Kate began to cry. “I’m telling you the truth. I saw him open his eyes.”

  Holly hugged her daughter. “It’s okay, Kate. We’re going to keep praying for him, and he’ll get better. I’m sure of it.”

  Holly turned suddenly when she heard a croak next to her.

  Kate shrieked. “Andy!” She released herself from Holly’s grip and practically jumped on top of Andy, hugging him fiercely.

  Holly gasped as Andy stirred. Relief flooded through her. She kept telling her daughter he would make it out of this, but had not been so sure.

  He blinked several times and slowly opened his eyes.

  Holly touched his forehead. “Oh, Andy. Thank God you’re awake.”

  Andy spoke in a whisper. “Didn’t think…I’d see you again.”

  Lucas smiled. “You’re a fighter. I’m going to call Monsignor Curran and let him know.”

  Andy tried unsuccessfully to lift his head. “Where…”

  Holly held his hand. “You’re in the hospital. We weren’t sure you were going to make it. You were in bad shape.”

  “Andy, I hid just like you told me. I was there waiting for you to come back, and then everything went black. I woke up and saw you shaking and you were bleeding and I…” Kate hugged him again.

  “Sorry, Kate…tried, but they were too strong.”

  Holly put her finger to his lips. “It’s okay. We know you did your best. You’re still alive. That’s what matters.”

  Andy tried to edge himself up on the bed, a task that appeared to be a monumental struggle. “Need…talk to Monsignor Curran.”

  “Lucas is going to get him,” Holly said. “I’ll get a doctor. Just hold tight.”

  Andy closed his eyes.

  Holly left the room to find the attending physician. For the first time in days, she began to feel hope.

  Chapter XXVIII

  Andy rolled a ten. “Oh, no.” He moved his game piece and landed on Park Place.

  “Pay up, buddy,” Kate said.

  “I think I’m done. I have three hundred in cash, and even if I sold all my properties, it won’t be enough.” He took a deep breath. “I’m gonna concede defeat.”

  Kate raised her hands, got off the hospital bed, and gave a cheer. “I beat you. I beat you.”

  Andy gave her a fist bump. “You play a mean game of Monopoly, girl.”

  “Don’t you forget it.”

  Kate wrote on a sheet of paper. “Now you owe me two Snickers bars, two Twix bars, and a bag of M & M’s.”

  “At this rate, I’m going to be broke. You have to give me a chance to make back some of your winnings.”

  “What do you want to play next?” Kate asked.

  “Battleship.” Andy grinned. “Electronic Battleship if they have it. I’m totally awesome at Battleship. There’s no way you’ll beat me.”

  “You said that about Monopoly.”

  “I was just playing possum. Battleship is my game.”

  Kate frowned. “Playing possum? What’s that?”

  “It means I was fakin’ you out.”

  “Oh. Okay. I’ll see if they have Battleship.”

  Andy looked up and spotted Monsignor Curran standing at the door. He stepped inside the room. “It appears that I didn’t teach you how to play Monopoly well.”

  He had spoken to Monsignor Curran yesterday after waking from his comatose state, but there had been other people in the room: Kate, Holly, Lucas, not to mention scores of nurses and doctors running tests, and poking and prodding him. He felt like a guinea pig. He urgently needed to speak to Monsignor Curran but wanted to do so in private. The things he had to say weren’t meant for anyone else to hear.

  After Kate left the room, Monsignor Curran sat on the chair next to his bed. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like shit,” Andy replied.

  “Not surprising after what you went through.”

  Andy propped himself on the bed. “I ache all over the place, but I’m less tired, and my appetite’s back. You think you can sneak me some McDonalds? This hospital food’s awful.”

  “I don’t think the medical staff would appreciate that.”

  Andy closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He needed to work up the courage for this conversation. After a minute, he opened his eyes. “Yesterday, when I was telling you about what went down in Kate’s soul, I didn’t tell you everything.”

  Monsignor Curran nodded. “I could tell that you were omitting a detail or two, things that weren’t suitable for all ears.”

  “Yeah.” When the doctors and nurses left his room yesterday, he told the others about fighting the demons, how he barely survived, and his last mad dash to escape. He insisted that Kate listen to his tale since she was going through it along with him. She had seen and experienced horrible things, and he doubted anything he said could shock her.

  Even though the medical staff insisted he get rest, Andy had to let the others know what happened. Fortunately, Monsignor Curran was persuasive, and they agreed to let Andy debrief them.

  “So what really happened?” Monsignor Curran asked.

  Andy leaned his head into his pillow. “It mostly went down the way I said. There’s one part I didn’t mention.”

  Tears formed in Andy’s eyes. It had to be the pain meds.

  Monsignor Curran held his hand. “It’s okay, Andy. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

  “I was in front of the big demon, and he said something to me.”

  “Yes.”

  Andy took a deep breath. “He told me about how all his plans for his son were ruined. Then I asked him who his son was. He said I’m his son.”

  Monsignor Curran’s shoulder’s sagged. He cast his eyes downward.

  “You knew about this? Are you telling me you knew this demon was my father and never said anything?”

  Monsignor Curran folded his trembling hands.

  Tears ran down Andy’s face. His voice rose. “Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me it’s all a lie. Tell me.”

  “I have no way of knowing if this demon is your father, but I can’t dispute the validity of his claim.”

  “What do you mean? Is he or isn’t he my father?”

  “There’s something I have to tell you; something I hoped I would never have to reveal to you. I have been holding onto this secret for a long time, and with Father Christopher’s death, I am the only one left who knows about it. It’s about your birth. I prayed that what was occurring here was not related to what happened all those years ago, but in my heart, I knew it was.”

  Chapter XXIX

  Philadelphia 1992

  Father Mark Curran smiled as he opened the front door to the rectory and greeted Father Christopher. “This is unexpected. Did you come here to eat crow after my Phillies swept your Mets?”

  Father Christopher shook his head, the expression on his face grim. “I wish it were such a jovial occasion.”

  Father Mark stepped back. “Well, come inside. You usually don’t cross the Ben Franklin and visit unannounced.”

  “This couldn’t wait. I had to speak to you immediately, and talking over the phone wouldn’t be approp
riate for what I have to tell you.”

  Father Mark led him into his office.

  Father Christopher, his friend and mentor, was in rare form. Usually, he was engaging and outgoing, always prepared with jokes, even if some were off-colored. He rarely saw the man so serious.

  Father Mark closed the door.

  “We have a situation in Saint Martin’s parish in Delaware, a case of acute possession.”

  They had worked together on several exorcisms, and each had been harrowing experiences. “What’s the situation?”

  Father Christopher sunk heavily into a chair. His eyes looked weary. “Of course, any case of possession is in itself extraordinary, but this one presents unique problems I have never dealt with.”

  “How so?”

  “The possessed is a woman in her early twenties. Her driver’s license identifies her as Amelia Lorenzo, and she’s pregnant. My estimate is that she is far along. In fact, I think her pregnancy is near completion.”

  Father Mark removed his glasses and wiped his brow. “Good Lord.”

  “I went to see her to assess the situation this morning. I’ve never witnessed a case of possession like this one. The girl, or rather the demon occupying her soul, was trying to engage me in banter. The demon was lucid and well spoken. In all of the cases I have dealt with, the possessed only can engage in meaningless babble or speak in ancient tongues. The whole thing was so…I felt inadequate trying to deal with it.”

  Father Christopher had to be one of the most experienced exorcists alive. He had been performing them for over twenty years. When he was in the seminary studying to be a priest, Mark Curran struck a friendship with this quirky pastor, who had a quick wit and a way of bringing a smile to everyone’s face. Father Christopher, who had been teaching at the seminary at the time, took Mark under his wing. For the first few years of his priesthood, Father Mark served with him at his parish in New Jersey. Afterward, when the diocese assigned Mark to a parish in the Mayfair section of Philadelphia, Father Christopher first told him about his role as an exorcist.

  Taken aback by this revelation, Father Mark thought his mentor was playing a joke on him. Sure, he knew about the rites of exorcism and the role Catholic priests played in them over the years, but that seemed far removed from his life as a priest, in the same way as events occurring in Tibet would. That all changed after their initial conversation on the subject.

  Father Christopher explained to him that he was a certified exorcist, receiving his formal training in Rome and having apprenticed under a retiring priest. He was looking to recruit a partner to perform these exorcisms. Father Mark readily accepted his mentor’s offer, eager to learn as much as he could about the subject. He made several trips to the Vatican to get advanced training, but mostly he learned by assisting Father Christopher.

  Possessions and exorcisms seemed so fantastic and exotic, a whole world unknown to most people. Father Mark quickly learned how dangerous they could be after his first exorcism with Father Christopher. It had been the most terrifying ordeal of his life. On several occasions, he wanted to turn and run. Father Christopher’s calming effect saw him through the process and they experienced success with these exorcisms.

  “So what does it mean that she’s pregnant and possessed?” Father Mark asked.

  “I spoke to Bishop DelVecchio at the Vatican and asked him if he could search the archives for similar cases. They have been exceedingly rare. He only came across three similar cases, and none of them had favorable outcomes. In all three cases, the mother, or the child, or both died.”

  “That doesn’t bode well for us.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Can we request additional help from the Vatican?” Father Mark asked. “I’m sure they have priests more experienced than either of us.”

  Father Christopher shook his head. “It’s too late for that. She will be having her baby soon. We would need the exorcist prior to the delivery. Not to mention, no living exorcist has faced this situation. They will be just as in the dark as we.”

  Father Mark gazed into his friend’s haunted eyes. “Then we will do the best we can to save the woman and her baby. That’s all we can do.”

  Slowly, reluctantly, Father Christopher nodded. “There’s no time to waste.”

  Father Mark wrote a note to the rectory’s secretary to let her know that he would be gone for an indefinite period of time. He felt a certain level of excitement and apprehension. Based on Father Christopher’s demeanor, this exorcism would be unlike anything he ever dealt with.

  ***

  Father Mark gaped at Amelia Lorenzo. Her hair was wild and unkempt. Her teeth were jagged. Her skin had a strange green hue. Worst of all, her eyes were red, and he couldn’t see any pupils.

  Father Christopher held his arm as if he needed support. Father Mark glanced at him, and saw wide-eyed fear. They were the ones that had to help this woman, yet they were both scared witless. No wonder Father Christopher felt inadequate.

  Amelia spoke in a deep, masculine tone. “So I see that you decided to return. And you brought a friend. Another witness to this miracle.”

  “You don’t belong here,” Father Christopher said, his voice faltering. “Be gone.”

  Amelia gave a deep rumbling laugh that sounded impossible coming from a woman of her size and frame. “That was convincing. I guess I’ll leave now.”

  Father Christopher took a small step forward. “You are an abomination; a blight on humanity, and we will drive you from this woman’s soul.”

  “You say that with so little conviction, priest. How do you expect me to believe it if you don’t believe it yourself?”

  “We are servants of the Lord,” Father Mark said. “His light will shine through us and pierce your darkness.”

  Amelia smiled. “I see you brought a poet with you. If nothing else, this new priest should entertain me.”

  Father Mark held up a golden cross. “Be gone from here. You are not of this world and you will return from whence you came.”

  Amelia grinned and tilted her head from side to side whimsically. “I can see that you two fools are serious. As if a cross should scare me. Yet another case of the blind leading the blind.”

  Father Mark flinched. The demon held no hint of fear. A cross should at least be able to create hesitancy in the demon, but it had no effect on this one.

  Father Christopher glanced at him. They each were armed with crosses and flasks of holy water imported from Fatima. They also carried Bibles. Whether these normally invaluable weapons would have an effect on this demon, Father Mark had no way of knowing. There was no point in delaying any further. They would start the rites of exorcism and try to drive this demon away.

  Chapter XXX

  Father Mark took a deep breath. He had the distinct feeling that regardless of the outcome of this exorcism, his life would never be the same. He glanced at Father Christopher, whose face had settled into a tight grimace.

  Amelia cracked her neck by turning it an unnatural, gruesome angle. Her voice still had a husky, masculine tone. “This should be fun. And don’t bother spouting off those useless words. They have no effect on me.”

  Father Mark stared at Father Christopher. They both carried standard Bibles as well as texts containing the rites of exorcism.

  “You will not deter us, demon, from what we must do,” Father Christopher said.

  Amelia chuckled. “You do not give me due credit with so generic a name. As far as what you must do, you will bear witness to a fantastic spectacle. If you are lucky, I will allow you to live to see tomorrow.”

  Father Mark took out his books and the holy water. He frowned. He should have had confession with Father Christopher before they left. When dealing with demons, it was necessary to purge your soul of any misdeeds, but there hadn’t been time.

  Father Christopher traced the sign of the cross over Amelia’s head.

  She laughed, then spoke in Latin, which Father Mark spoke fluently. “I always thought
your Christ to be a fool. I had hope for him once upon a time, but he proved himself weak. Just like you, with your silly rites.” She spoke in English. “Do not waste your time, priest.”

  Her words seemed to have a profound effect on Father Christopher. After making the sign of the cross on Amelia, he held his thumb inches from her forehead but did not move.

  Father Mark made the sign of the cross on himself and then on Father Christopher. “Let’s begin.”

  Father Christopher removed a flask of holy water and opened it.

  Just before he was about to sprinkle holy water over Amelia, she snatched the flask from his hand and held it in front of her. “A product of Fatima in Portugal. How exotic. It won’t work any better.” She casually tossed it aside as if it were tap water and not consecrated holy water. Her teeth had formed fangs, which now hung past her bottom lip.

  Undeterred, Father Mark took out his own flask of holy water. He sprinkled the holy water on Amelia and then the rest of the room.

  Amelia growled. “You priests fall back on your rituals when you lack answers. Save yourself the trouble. I am far more powerful than your God. Nothing you do will deter me.”

  Father Mark stared at the possessed woman. “If it has no effect on you, then why do you object?”

  Amelia’s eyes narrowed. “Careful. Your sharp tongue may be your undoing.”

  Father Mark sensed incredible power in this demon, and that its words were not merely boasts.

  Father Christopher’s face regained some of its color, and he proceeded with the litany of saints. “Lord, have mercy.”

  Father Mark responded, “Lord, have mercy.”

  Amelia growled once more, then spoke in what Father Mark thought may have been Hebrew.

  Father Christopher continued with the litany. “God, the Holy Spirit.”

  Father Mark responded, “Have mercy on us.”

  “Holy Trinity, one God.”

  “Have mercy on us.”

  They invoked St. Michael, St. Gabriel, St. Raphael, John the Baptist, and other saints.

  Amelia yawned and spoke in her husky voice. “If your intent is to bore me to death, then you may just succeed.”