by Lincoln Cole
Haatim blocked another attack, ducked under a wild swing, and then tripped the creature. It fell to the ground, landing on its back, and then rolled back to its feet. Haatim edged away, catching his breath, and looked over at the door.
Father Paladina stared at him, expression blank, unsurprised by events.
“You let it loose.”
“I felt it necessary.”
“You could have warned me.”
“That would have defeated the purpose.”
The demon came charging in, and Haatim blocked and dodged a series of punches and wild kicks. He responded with strikes of his own, landing two hits on the creature’s chest and then kicking it in the knee. The kick staggered it, but if it even noticed the punches, it didn’t show it.
The man this creature inhabited proved neither large nor strong, and after months of captivity, his muscles had atrophied. Yet when the demon lashed out at Haatim, the attacks had quite a bit of unexpected power behind them. Already, Haatim’s forearms ached from blocking, and the creature continued, relentless.
“What do you expect me to do?”
“Reach out to the creature. Channel.”
“I can’t.”
“Then deal with it some other way,” Father Paladina said. “Show me that you can defend yourself.”
“Other way?”
The priest fell silent for an interminable moment. Then, “Kill it.”
The man who the demon inhabited had died already, and his soul had long since vacated the body, but a part of Haatim still felt wrong about the idea. The demon made for his enemy, not the man it possessed, and killing the body to get the demon just felt wrong.
Of course, that offered the lesser of his two problems. The bigger issue came down to how the hell was he supposed to kill it?
He didn’t have any weapons with him. He’d expected to go to the airport today, not back down here, and carrying weapons through airport security always made a bad idea. Even a knife would have proven too much to bring along, which meant that his hands and feet gave him the only things he could use to fight.
Father Paladina offered no help at all. The old priest just watched, standing in the doorway and waiting to see what would happen. He looked as though he stood watching a prize fight, studying the opponents to decide on which one to put his money.
From the look on his face, he didn’t have a bet on Haatim.
The demon came charging in, grabbing Haatim around the waist. It drove him backward and slammed him against the wall, knocking the air out of his lungs. Haatim elbowed down, hitting it around the ribcage as hard as he could, but the demon didn’t relent.
It had him locked in a tight bear hug, refusing to let up even a little. Then it jerked away from the wall and slammed him again. Not a smooth wall, but rather rough-cut and uneven stone, parts of it proved sharp and stuck into his back painfully. Spots of wetness bloomed where the wall pierced his skin and cut him.
He grabbed the demon under the armpits, twisted, and threw it sideways. It didn’t let go, at first, but when he wrenched it to an odd angle, the move forced the demon to let go and stumble away.
“You won’t beat it that way,” the old priest said. “Turn inward.”
Haatim staggered forward, away from the wall. Bursts of pain shot up his back, and he tried to stretch it out.
“The gun would help.”
“Focus, Haatim. Channel your abilities.”
“I can’t.”
“You just need to focus.”
“This is useless. Help me.”
The demon stood and turned to face him once again. It walked toward him, stopped, and then turned to the doorway, instead, where Father Paladina stood.
“You’re on your own.” The priest stepped back into the hallway and grabbed the door handle. “One of you will walk out of here.”
“Wait!”
“I’m sorry.”
The demon charged toward the door. Father Paladina swung it shut, slamming and bolting it only seconds before the demon arrived.
It hit the door with its shoulder and bounced off, then pounded on it. It did that for a full ten seconds before desisting and backing away.
Slowly, it turned around to face Haatim.
He gulped.
Chapter 14
The demon had seemed far less intimidating while chained up and he could take the luxury of just looking at it. Scary, yeah, but not that threatening. Haatim had almost forgotten what they were capable of while it stayed pacified, focusing only on what he could do to it and not the other way around.
It seemed a lot like a dangerous animal someone might see in a zoo: harmless enough while in its enclosure, but once it got out …
Now, however, he stood trapped in a room with it with no exit. The priest had bolted the door from the outside, and Father Paladina had no intentions to let him out.
Cautious, the demon moved toward him, not in much of a hurry anymore. It seemed to size him up, taking things slowly. A word came to mind, Savoring, but Haatim pushed it away.
After training with Dominick, he could handle himself in a fight and could protect himself from this demon. But, for how long? Already, he’d grown sore and tired, and they had only been at this for a few minutes, maybe less.
The demon, on the other hand, would never get tired and could keep pursuing him all day. It didn’t need to rest or take breaks, and eventually, it would wear him down enough to overpower and crush him.
He needed a strategy to win this fast, but nothing came to mind. The problem was that he had enough strength to hold his own against the demon, but not enough to do much more than that.
Maybe he could chain it up again. Father Paladina had removed the collar, but it still hung on the wall, open and ready. If he could get the demon close enough, he might manage to get it around its neck and chain it up once more. Then he would be able to move to one of the corners, out of its reach.
It wouldn’t solve the problem of finding himself locked in the room with it, but he could address that later when he didn’t have a raging demon chasing after him.
He eyed the creature, backing away from it slowly, and then took off running across the room toward the collar. The demon sprang forward as well, trying to cut him off. It seemed to know what he planned to do and didn’t want to let him get close.
It dove forward at him, catching him around the shoulders in an awkward hug, and then tried to pull him back and off-balance. He threw his elbow, dipped his shoulder, and rolled away from the demon in an escape maneuver that Dominick had taught him.
Then he reached the chain. He picked it up, and the rattling sound seemed to fill the entire room and bounce off the walls. Haatim tried to get hold of the metal neck collar. He fumbled for it, and then the demon hit him from behind. It threw him into the wall, and he hit hard enough to daze him.
He managed, however, to get hold of the collar. Then he spun, lunging at the demon and getting inside its reach. In a split second, he wrapped his arm around its neck, pulled up the harness, and snapped it closed.
Victory.
Short lived.
The demon bit him just under the armpit, and he cried out in pain, jerking loose. It let him go, and then pummeled him instead. Haatim held up his hands, trying to protect his face from the blows, but he grew further dazed when it lashed out at him.
The demon stood caught, and all he had to do was get away. Enough separation and it wouldn’t be able to get to him. Haatim ducked and ran under its arm, coming up behind the demon and heading toward the closed door.
He thought he’d ran clear, all up until he saw the chain fly over his head and catch him around the throat. The demon yanked him back, and he stumbled off-balance, and then it looped the chain a second time, tying it like a noose.
Haatim reached up for his neck, trying to grab the chain and pull it loose, but already, the beast had pulled it tight. The cold links dug into his neck, biting at the tender flesh, and the pain seemed nearly unbearable. In
only seconds, he developed tunnel vision and could feel his pulse throbbing painfully in his temples.
The demon stood close behind him, pulling the chain tighter and tighter. Haatim gasped, or tried to, but couldn’t draw in any air.
Not thinking, he reached back and grabbed the demon’s hand where it clenched the chain. His first impulse encouraged him to try and pry the fingers loose, but he didn’t do that.
Instead, he reached inside the hand, feeling for the demonic presence within. It felt like a white-hot energy, throbbing with rage. He crawled his way up that energy, like a tendril, until he could feel the presence of the demon. It appeared as a swirling mass in the man’s chest, like an intangible cancerous growth.
He gripped that mass, mentally clenching it, and it recoiled in surprise. A burst of terror mixed in with the demon’s rage. Terror and realization.
Haatim refused to let go, though. Mentally, he squeezed, tightening his grip on the demonic presence. It fought back, but it proved of no use. Even as Haatim’s body weakened from the pain and lack of oxygen, the demon writhed in terror under his mental grip.
He kept squeezing and squeezing, and with each passing second, the demon became more panicked and desperate. Things slipped out of focus, and Haatim could no longer see or think straight, but still, he kept squeezing.
And then the world disappeared.
***
When Haatim woke up, he had the worst headache of his life. Someone tapped on his shoulder, and when consciousness set in, the first thing he did was cry out in agony.
Or, at least, he tried to. Barely audible, what came out sounded more like a pathetic gasp than anything.
His neck hurt like nothing he’d ever experienced and felt like it had gotten torn open and set on fire. He opened his eyes. Father Paladina stood above him, a concerned expression on his face.
“Wow, he did a real number on you, didn’t he?”
Haatim reached up to touch his neck, and the old priest caught his hand.
“Wait a second. I wouldn’t do that just yet. It’ll hurt like hell later.”
It did already, but when he tried to open his mouth to speak, nothing came out. He just shook his head and looked at the priest.
“Yeah, you probably won’t be able to talk for a little while, but I don’t think you’ve got any permanent damage. I mean, I’m not a doctor or anything, but I think you’ll be fine.”
Haatim frowned.
“Don’t give me that look. It worked.”
He gestured with his hand toward the limp body lying on the ground next to them. The demon, or what remained of it, now resembled a decomposing corpse, lifeless and empty.
The presence of the demon had gone as well, completely snuffed out.
Had he done that? He recalled going after the demon and trying to crush it, but he didn’t remember exactly what had happened before he had passed out.
Father Paladina seemed to recognize the look on his face. “Yes. You banished and sent it away. It’s gone back to hell. My plan worked.”
Haatim gave him a sour look.
“Well, it mostly worked,” Father Paladina said, frowning, as he studied Haatim’s neck. He stood and reached out, helping Haatim to his feet. “I rescheduled your flight for a few hours to give you time to recover and, hopefully, get your voice back. I know you’re none too happy with me, but no way would I let you go out of the city if you couldn’t defend yourself; so, you can get mad at me later.”
Haatim reached up and, tenderly, touched the flesh around his neck. Lines marked it, and it felt painful to the touch. He winced but felt glad that the wounds hadn’t gone any deeper than they had.
“Yeah, those will go away,” Father Paladina said. Then he shrugged. “Eventually. In the meantime, how do you feel about scarves?”
Chapter 15
Haatim had thought the flight to the Vatican long and uncomfortable, but the series of flights to get him from Rome to Phnom Penh in Cambodia proved far worse. He felt like he had passed through the ringer with this trip.
Of course, it didn’t help that his neck glistened in sweaty agony from wearing a stupid scarf, and his entire body ached from what had happened back in the basement. Part of him felt furious with Father Paladina for putting him in that situation and risking his life, but another part experienced elation. Or, at least, it did when the pain wore off a bit, and he got his voice back.
He had managed to expel a demon from a human host. Had reached out, grabbed it with his mind, and sent it back to whatever hellish place from which it had crawled out. He had won.
The idea that he had managed to do it filled him with hope for the future that he hadn’t felt since the attack on the Council, but it amounted to more than that. It gave a vindication as well, and confidence in himself that he might manage to save his sister.
He’d never felt so pleased or relieved in his entire life. Father Paladina’s methods seemed questionable, but the results proved more than he ever could have imagined.
The thought that he might be able to do the same thing to the demon inside of Nida filled him with a happiness he hadn’t felt in a long time. Father Paladina had warned him that nothing had changed, and that under no circumstances should he face Nida by himself.
If the Church found out she lurked in the area, his orders told him to leave immediately and get on the next flight back to Rome. He’d come here to find Abigail and convince her to turn herself in and nothing more.
But, on the off-chance that he did run into his sister, he fully intended to practice his new skill and send that horrible demon packing. He wanted to repay it for what it had done to his family, his friends, and mostly, to his sister.
That was, of course, provided he survived the stupid flight there.
Each flight on its own didn’t feel that bad, and to be honest, the last plane he’d flown in to get into Cambodia from Thailand had turned out quite comfortable. They even had a humidification system in the ceiling to keep the air from getting dry and stale feeling, and they served trays of fresh and delicious fruit.
Unfortunately, he had to spend so much time waiting between each flight in one airport after another. Over a day and a half, he’d jumped on four different flights, landing in various cities, rushing to the next terminal, and then waiting for hours for the next plane to take off.
Plus, the constant up and down of altitude got to him. His ears hurt, he had a constant headache, and he fought down nausea from the takeoff and landing routines. He couldn’t imagine how jet-setters did it when they had to move about the world constantly.
The humidity and heat, he noticed first when stepping off the plane. The air felt swampy and difficult to breathe, and it took him a few minutes just to acclimate to the heavy air.
The airport didn’t seem that large, and certainly, didn’t have air conditioning. Haatim hadn’t grown up with air conditioning in his family home but had spent the last several years with it on a regular basis. It only took him a few minutes to break out into a sweat. He felt overdressed in a t-shirt and shorts.
Tired, sweaty, and grumpy, he retrieved his luggage and stepped outside into the hot afternoon sun. Father Paladina had organized a car to take him to a nearby hotel and rented out a room for him over the next couple of days. The driver, a local, would—hopefully—help him locate Abigail in Phnom Penh.
A line of vehicles sat parked outside the airport entrance, along with a cabal of drivers waiting for their passengers. His driver, a man named Savin, had a description as a short and thin man. That didn’t help at all, though, because all of them looked extremely thin, and none particularly tall.
One of them seemed to recognize him, however, and waved him over. Haatim adjusted his luggage and made his way to the vehicle. A beat-up old BMW in need of a good washing. The driver had a huge grin on his face.
“Savin?” Haatim asked.
The man nodded. “Yes, hello, great to meet you.” The man bowed and offered his hand for Haatim to shake. He had a thick
accent and only partially pronounced a few letters, but Haatim found him easy to understand.
Immediately, the man grabbed Haatim’s luggage and rushed around to the trunk, opening it up. He tossed it in, not particularly gently, and then hurried over to open Haatim’s door.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Haatim said.
The man gestured for Haatim to climb in, and so he did. Savin slammed the door shut and ran around to the far side of the car. He seemed impatient and in a hurry to do everything fast.
The heat made Haatim sleepy and exhausted but didn’t seem to have any effect on Savin. He moved with endless energy, climbing into the driver’s seat and turning on the car.
After only seconds, they glided out of the parking lot toward the main road outside the airport. Savin pulled up to the exit, performed a cursory glance both ways, and then drove right out into the middle of heavy traffic.
Cars swerved around them, narrowly missing them, and horns honked as angry drivers shouted out of their windows at them. Savin barely seemed to notice any of it. One car came only centimeters from clipping them, and the driver yelled and slammed his hand on his door, but Savin ignored the man completely.
He turned, instead, to Haatim. “First time to Cambodia?”
“Yes,” Haatim said, clutching his seat with one hand and the seatbelt with the other. His muscles tensed, and he couldn’t help but wince when they almost hit another car. “First time to Southeast Asia, too.”
“Welcome,” Savin said, grinning even more widely. “My English, you can understand?”
“Yes. Quite well.”
“I practice a lot. I am English teacher.”
“That’s great,” Haatim said.
Absently, Savin weaved through traffic, narrowly dodging countless accidents. The rules of the road didn’t seem to apply, and everyone cut each other off.
At least their brakes seemed good.
“You are cold?”
“What? No, it’s too hot.”
Savin glanced at the scarf around his neck. He’d worn it all day and almost forgotten he had it on. An ugly yellow thing, made of cheap material, it had proved the only one Father Paladina could find on such short notice, and it looked completely out of place with the rest of his ensemble.
