The Everett Exorcism

by Lincoln Cole

  The two priests slid into the booth, and Patty handed them each a menu. “I’ll bring you boys some coffee,” she said, and then disappeared toward the kitchen area.

  Niccolo didn’t drink a lot of coffee, but the waitress hadn’t given him the opportunity to object. When he gave it some thought, it didn’t sound like a bad choice. He still felt jetlagged, and it might help him get his bearings a little easier. Besides, Patty had gone already. Niccolo chuckled, and then opened up the menu, glancing over it at Father Reynolds.

  “Quite the presence,” Niccolo said.

  “You do like coffee, right?”

  He lied, “Of course.”

  “I could ask her for some tea instead.”

  Niccolo held up his hand. “Coffee is quite all right.”

  Father Reynolds nodded. “This restaurant has been here for thirty years. She knows everyone in town, and everyone knows her. She always informs me about what people think of my parish and the gossip around town.”

  “Seems useful.”

  Jackson shrugged. “Depends on the day. I don’t need to know the personal business of the people who come to my church unless they step into the confessional booth or ask for my help.”

  Patty returned a moment later, setting down the drinks and taking their orders. Ravished, Niccolo ordered the largest breakfast on the menu, adding to it an extra serving of sausage. Personal experience told him that his eyes proved much larger than his stomach, but right now, his eyes made the decisions.

  Jackson had eaten breakfast earlier, and so ordered only a strawberry yogurt. Niccolo assumed that he’d ordered even that tiny item only for politeness so that he wouldn’t have to eat alone. A kind gesture, and one the visiting priest greatly appreciated.

  They talked about pleasantries for the next several minutes until their food arrived. Nothing of substance, only light details about their lives and histories. Once the food got there, Niccolo tucked into his breakfast. The coffee tasted slightly burnt, and the eggs overcooked, but otherwise, it seemed a delicious meal. To be honest, though, the food might have been terrible, but he felt much too hungry to care.

  Jackson took tiny swallows of his yogurt, waiting patiently for Niccolo to finish eating before speaking about anything of substance. They sat in a comfortable silence until the food had gone and the dishes got bussed away. Sated, Niccolo leaned back in his seat and tapped on his stomach.

  “Delicious,” he said, realizing that he had eaten far too much. He blamed it on his jetlag and the fact that he hadn’t eaten dinner. “Just what I needed after the previous day’s travel.”

  “You won’t find a better breakfast in town,” Jackson said.

  Patty came back, refilled their coffees, and then disappeared once more. Jackson watched her go, and then turned to face the older priest once more. His mood changed visibly. He grew much more somber and focused before leaning in close to Niccolo and frowning.

  “I assume the Church informed you about why I asked for someone to come.”

  “Naturally. I have full awareness of the circumstances.”

  Jackson paused, then said, “I meant no offense.”

  “I took none. They also informed me that you brought this to the Vatican in disregard of Bishop Glasser’s express forbiddance.”

  Jackson hesitated, then said, “I brought it to the bishop’s attention, but he refused to acknowledge the possibility that something diabolical might be happening in Everett.”

  “He feels that no issue exists here that needs examination, and that you have exaggerated the situation or possibly fabricated this in your mind.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “I don’t know,” Niccolo said. “Nor do I agree with his feelings on the matter. I came here to ascertain the truth and nothing more.”

  “I didn’t lie about anything when I spoke to the Vatican officials.”

  “And I believe you. However, when two people come forward with differing opinions about what they believe to be the truth, it becomes my duty to determine the reality.”

  “This woman needs help.”

  “I don’t dispute that, and even Bishop Glasser agreed that she needed help. However, I see a difference between needing help and needing an exorcism, and just bringing up the idea to the Church can prove dangerous. With any luck, we will manage to determine what form of help this woman needs, mundane or otherwise, and assist her in locating it.”

  Jackson frowned. “Did you see the movie I made?”

  “No. What movie?”

  “I handed it over to Bishop Glasser on VHS. He claimed that he’d passed it along to the Church for viewing.”

  “I neither saw nor heard of any such movie.”

  “I assumed as much. Please, follow me.”

  They stood, and Jackson put some money on the table to settle their bill. The walk back to Saint Joseph’s Cathedral felt considerably longer than the outward trip. Niccolo, completely full, wanted nothing more than to climb back into bed and take a long nap.

  Jackson led him into a back room of his church, an office of sorts with a desk and old furniture. Like the church itself, it seemed cluttered. A television bracket hung on one of the walls, and Jackson walked over to it and fiddled with the dials and cords. Niccolo watched him working for a moment, and then settled onto a brown leather couch along the opposite wall and yawned, folding his hands over his lap.

  “I kept a copy,” Jackson said, digging through a stack of VHS tapes on the ground beside the television. “Just in case. I didn’t think I would need it, but now …”

  “You said you gave one to the bishop?”

  “Yes. I showed it to him, and then gave him what he thought was the only copy. He said he would send it to the Vatican for follow-up analysis, but it seems he never did.”

  “What do you have on the tape?”

  Jackson didn’t respond. Instead, he slid one of the tapes into the VCR and turned on the television. The crackling noise of static filled the room.

  “Three weeks ago, I spoke with Rose Gallagher at her home on Richmond Street. I managed to record this.”

  He pressed the play button and took a few steps back from the setup. Niccolo watched as the screen came to life. Low resolution, the picture proved grainy, and he found it difficult to make out details, and the screen shook. Wherever Jackson had recorded, it seemed dark, and the video kept cutting out.

  On the screen, an elderly woman sat in an armchair in what looked like a living room, rocking back and forth. Her face remained in shadow, and her hands lay on the armrest. A wheezing noise sounded like breathing, but little else came over the audio until Jackson spoke.

  “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I compel you to come forth.” Jackson’s voice came through the tinny television speakers. His speech wavered and trembled, and his words seemed barely enunciated. Whenever he had recorded this, Jackson had felt terrified.

  A moment passed, and nothing happened. The old woman kept rocking in her chair, making that wheezing sound as she breathed.

  Niccolo stood and walked closer to the television, squinting and trying to make out what happened on the screen. It appeared so dark and out of focus that he could barely tell what the room looked like. That wheezing sound held his attention and filled him with both disgust and dread, though he couldn’t explain why. A few feet away from the screen, he stopped, watching intently.

  “I compel you forth, demon,” Jackson said on the recording. “What is your name? Speak your true name. Through the love of Jesus and the Virgin Mother, I command you to speak your name.”

  The old woman laughed, a deep and throaty sound, guttural. The sound sent a shiver of fear up Niccolo’s spine. It seemed inhuman, wrong, and horrible.

  “You have no power here, Priest. This vessel is mine. Go back and play with your toys.”

  “Out, vile creature. Leave this woman in peace.”

  The woman leaned forward. Niccolo leaned toward the screen, trying to see her face,
but it remained hidden in shadow. He could see her eyes, though, and they glowed red.

  “This woman is mine. You will not take her from me. You are nothing more than a pest attempting to stand in our way.”

  The video showed the dim lights in the room flicker. Father Reynolds chanted a litany, praying to God for strength, but the woman only laughed, leaning back in her chair.

  “I will kill you, Priest. I will cut you open and spill your guts on the floor as you watch.”

  A moment later, the footage ended. Niccolo let out a breath of air he hadn’t realized he’d held, shaken by the video more than he would have imagined.

  “That was when I left. I … I knew I shouldn’t have gone there, but I didn’t want to abandon her. I brought that video to Bishop Glasser to ask him to look at it,” Jackson said, a touch of defeatism in his voice. “I could not help her, and I thought, maybe, the bishop could.”

  Niccolo frowned down at the frozen image on-screen. “This footage …”

  “I know,” Jackson said. “It isn’t terribly convincing but is all I have.”

  “It is dangerous.”

  “For the Church? I haven’t shared it with anyone except the bishop. I wouldn’t dare to release something like this publicly.”

  “Not the Church. For you,” Niccolo said. “At best, this footage shows you harassing an elderly woman in her home.”

  “At worst?”

  “It shows you attempting to interact with and exorcise a demon without Vatican permission. You have no training in such affairs, and you should be aware that such is not acceptable behavior from an untrained clergyman.”

  “I merely tried to—”

  “What you tried to do is irrelevant,” Niccolo said. “All you’ve achieved, quite possibly, is to get yourself excommunicated from the Church.”

  Chapter 4

  A stunned silence followed Niccolo’s words while Father Reynolds attempted to absorb what the older priest had said. Niccolo remained quiet, allowing the gravity of his words to sink in before continuing the conversation.

  The young priest said, “I wasn’t … I didn’t think …”

  “The bishop might have saved your career by not passing this tape on to the Vatican. Had this reached my superiors, I would, likely, have come here with an entirely different agenda.”

  Niccolo exaggerated; the tape itself looked unconvincing and made it difficult to draw any solid determinations. If it ever got brought before Church leadership, it would get dismissed as unreliable evidence and most likely a hoax. However, he didn’t mind exaggerating the situation because it helped to drive home his point that Jackson had made a tremendous mistake.

  He tried to make Father Reynolds understand the gravity of what he dealt with. Demon or not, an untrained priest shouldn’t handle this situation alone. He didn’t have the proper education on such matters, nor the authority; two mistakes that could cost him everything.

  The real question came down to this—now that Father Paladina had seen the tape, did it change the circumstances of his visit here? His duty dictated that he report it with all due haste to his superiors, both because the bishop had withheld it and also that it showed Jackson disobeying their express orders. Father Reynolds had behaved carelessly in more ways than simply going over the head of his superior, and it could end up costing him dearly.

  Niccolo decided, for now at least, to withhold judgment on the matter. He wouldn’t report it—yet—he still had a job to do, and this transgression would need to wait.

  “I have studied,” Jackson said quietly.

  “Unless you’ve studied exorcism and demonology at the Vatican under the tutelage of other exorcists, you should never attempt such action under any circumstances. It is dangerous and foolish and could cost you not only your career but your everlasting soul.”

  “I didn’t think—”

  “No, you clearly didn’t,” Niccolo said. Then he softened his expression and tone and continued, “You proved unable to compel any demon forth from the woman because there is nothing there to compel.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that this woman is troubled, but not by a spirit or demon.”

  “You saw her.”

  Niccolo shook his head. “The Church receives thousands upon thousands of reported cases annually regarding demonic possession just like this. Incredibly few—and by some Church estimations, none at all—ever prove to be real cases needing the attention of an exorcist. Do you know what this involves in most cases?”

  “What?”

  “Mental illness. Almost every situation like this boils down to simple mental illness coupled with terrible circumstances or social anxieties. This woman needs help, but not the kind that the Church can offer.”

  “You heard her in the video,” Jackson said, and a look of pleading settled on his face. “She spoke words in some language I don’t understand.”

  Niccolo kept his face stoic, though he had to admit that some truth lay in what Jackson said. It had sounded like the woman had spoken another language, but it remained impossible to make out on the distorted tape. An old language, to be sure, but he couldn’t take anything from the movie as evidence. Certainly, it didn’t give enough to jump to any conclusions, and it would do no good to mention the possibility that Jackson might have it right and increase the young man’s paranoia and fear.

  “I will admit that she made strange noises, but it is difficult to tell what she tried to say, if anything. We cannot know the situation, nor the context, from this movie alone.”

  “I was there.”

  “Which only proves that you have a bias and a stake in the evidence,” Father Paladina said. “And, you felt afraid and wouldn’t have thought straight at the time. Thus, jumping to conclusions would prove both rash and dangerous.”

  Father Reynolds looked unhappy with what Niccolo told him. He appeared both annoyed and frustrated and, doubtless, he felt surprised that the tape had had this effect on Niccolo. It hadn’t turned out the way he would have expected.

  Jackson shook his head. He grew agitated. Niccolo would need to steer the young priest away from focusing on this tape for his own sake.

  Jackson said, “I don’t intend to jump to conclusions. I do want to help this woman through a terrible situation. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? The Church wants us to take care of the people in our congregation, doesn’t it?”

  “Of course. However, it remains important that we only give help when asked for and necessary.”

  “She needs my help.”

  “Yes, she does. You could have taken her to a mental hospital, and the Vatican would have paid her bill, had that been your request.”

  “She doesn’t need a mental hospital. She needs an exorcist.”

  “You overstep,” Niccolo said in a flat tone. “That is neither your call nor your judgment to make. This should have gone through the bishop.”

  “I did, and he shut me down.”

  “Then you try again.”

  “He never would have approved it, no matter how many times I asked. I waited for weeks, only to find out that he never even passed along my request.”

  “He has that prerogative. He is the bishop, not you. You said you showed him this tape. He watched it and refused to pass it along. That is for the best, but you seem to feel that there is something more to it.”

  “I am telling you that this is legit—”

  Niccolo said, “I choose to believe that this tape is a fake. This was just a humorous thing you put together for my amusement, but one in which you never intended to show to anyone outside of this room. Is that correct?”

  “But I didn’t! It isn’t—”

  “Because,” Father Paladina said in the same flat tone, “the alternative would amount to you attempting to communicate and deal with a demon, for which you have no training or authorization. If that were the case, I would have to report it to the Vatican, which would have you excommunicated.”

  He p
aused, staring pointedly at Jackson and pursing his lips.

  “Luckily, that is not the case, correct? This just comes down to a humorous fake. Would this offer an accurate assessment of the situation?”

  Jackson leaned back in his seat, frowning.

  Niccolo waited patiently, giving him the opportunity to weigh his options and either accept or decline the olive branch. If Jackson stood his ground, he would go through with his threat, but he didn’t want to end the young man’s career over a mistake like this.

  Finally, the young priest let out a sigh and nodded. He took a seat on the other end of the brown couch and waved his hand in dismissal. With great effort, Jackson managed to get himself back in check and calm down.

  “Of course. I apologize that the tape didn’t seem that amusing, but I did the best I could under the circumstances.”

  Niccolo nodded. “Think nothing of it.”

  “What happens next?” A note of resignation laced Jackson’s voice. He looked down at the table and folded his hands in front of his face. “Is that the end of your visit here?”

  “Not at all. That concludes my business dealings with you on behalf of the Vatican, but I also came here to speak with you and determine if we have a situation requiring an exorcist in this town. Next, I will go and speak with the woman, Rose Gallagher, and determine if anything exists here worth looking into in Everett, Washington.”

  Jackson looked up, surprise on his face. “You will?”

  “Absolutely. I had hoped, in fact, that you might accompany me and serve as my guide while I remain here? You know the town better than most, and I would greatly appreciate your unbiased company.”

  Father Reynolds smiled in relief. “Of course. When do you want to leave?”

  “Now, I believe. I would like to look into this issue as soon as possible so that I can report back accurately to the Vatican. That is, of course, if that works for you, and providing that we do, indeed, find Rose at home?”

  “Most definitely. I have a few things to attend to, but it should only take an hour or two, and then I will be ready to go. Would you like for me to give you a ride?”