Demonologist

by Laimo, Michael

  The priest nodded, as though he’d already known.

  The door creaked open, darkness and rancid air pulling at them. From below, a sharp pounding began, and a loud taunting voice ripped through the air. “The children taste delicious, Danto.” Then, in an almost sensual tone, “Wanna try some?”

  The priest stared down into the darkness, motionless, nodding his head with recognition. “It is him. Allieb. The demonologist.”

  “Come play with me Danto.” The sharp poundings stopped, and were immediately replaced with a rattling of chains, and ensuing animalistic barks.

  Thornton leaned forward, pulled a tiny chain dangling from the ceiling which ignited a bare bulb at the bottom of the steps. Danto hooked his arm through Thornton’s, then nodded. Slowly, they walked downstairs, gripping their Bibles tightly. The growls below segued into a series of grisly laughs, then, tapered down into complete silence as the two holy men reached the bottom step.

  The air here was cold, filled with dread and things gone afoul. The two men stared blankly at Allieb. The ten year-old boy was sitting on the cement floor, naked in his own feces, thick link chains wrapped about his wrists and ankles, fed through heavy eyehooks screwed into the cinder walls just beyond his reach. He leaped forward, the muscles in his limbs straining as they fought their bonds, the skin beneath the chains red and raw. The boy snarled, baring his teeth, black tongue flickering in and out of his bleeding lips. His penis stood erect, strangely large, mottled with purple bruises. This aggressive conduct lasted a minute, until Allieb fell silently still against the cinder wall, stomach ballooning up and down, wolfish eyes contemplating the two men as they stared him down in silent prayer.

  Alongside the boy lay a human femur bone, stripped clean of its flesh.

  He killed my wife...

  The boy-demon smiled wickedly. “Let us play,” he growled.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Still holding hands, Bev and Rebecca followed close behind Father Danto as he guided them across the altar through a doorway leading into the rectory. The hard aroma of fresh paint hung thickly in the air, stinging their nostrils.

  “They just finished cleaning everything,” he said. “Took three coats to cover the bloodstains. I’m the only one here right now. Everyone else will be moving back in tomorrow morning.” Rebecca, unaware of the crime that had taken place at the rectory, looked around questioningly, eyes wide and skittish.

  They crossed through a short hallway into an empty reception area. To the left rose a set of carpeted steps, leading into darkness. Danto flipped a switch on the wall in the foyer, bringing light into the second floor. They climbed the stairs, angling into a hallway lined with closed doors. Danto fished a key from his front pocket, unlocked the second door on the right, and guided them inside.

  The room was meagerly decorated: an aluminum-framed twin bed alongside a small end table supporting a shaded lamp and telephone. On the opposite wall was an easy chair and a small television. Like the rest of the rectory, the floor was carpeted in dull blue, a cotton curtain in a near-matching color shading the room’s only window. Sheets of rain slashed the dark pane.

  “Can I get you some water?” Danto asked.

  “Please,” Bev replied, Rebecca nodding along. Danto retrieved three plastic bottles from a small icebox next to the room’s lone window. He handed one to each of them, and drank from the third.

  “I need to call my daughter,” Bev announced abruptly. He walked over to the end table, grabbed the telephone handset. Quickly, he punched in Kristin’s apartment number. No answer. Then, her cell. Again, nothing. After six rings, he left a harried voice message, then nervously set the phone back into its cradle. He blew out a deep, anxious breath.

  Saw her getting into a limo last night. ‘Bout seven or so. Last I’ve seen her.

  Rebecca asked, “Kristin…is she okay?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.” Trying to shake the troubling thought from his mind, he turned his attention to Danto. “You said you were expecting me.”

  The priest nodded. “Take a seat,” he said, motioning to the bed. Danto sat down on the edge of the easy chair. “There is much to discuss, and very little time to do it.”

  Bev and Rebecca shared the foot of the bed, facing the priest. In the pause of the moment, Rebecca asked, “Bev…what’s going on?”

  Looking toward the floor, Bev attested, “I don’t know…there’s been some terrible things happening to me over the last couple of days. I came here, hoping...” He looked at Danto, “Hoping to get some answers.”

  Danto, staring intensely at Bev, as though searching for something in him, replied, “You did good, Bev. You’ve come to the right place.”

  “Well...what is it then?” Despite his demanding tone, the question had been asked with a bit of hesitance. In the back of Bev’s mind were the various texts on demonology he’d read while poking around in Kristin’s office, and one essay in particular that had gone into great detail with respect to the symptoms of an individual possessed by a demon. It appeared now, given those texts, plus Danto’s proclaimed expertise at the party and his apparent knowledge of Bev’s situation, that Bev might indeed be harboring a spirit of some malevolent nature, as crazy as that sounded. He closed his eyes and rubbed them, cursing silently to himself, wishing his assumption to be wrong. “I’m getting the impression you know what’s happening to me—and might even know why.” He opened his tired eyes, staring at Danto.

  “I do know, Bev,” Danto replied. “It would help if you told me everything that’s been happening to you over the last two days.”

  Bev nodded, feeling a sense of frustration despite his measured understanding of Danto’s point of view; he wanted answers, and he wanted them now. He took a sip of water and realized that his experiences over the last forty-eight hours might very well shed some additional light onto the situation, especially to a man who had a good deal of prior knowledge and facts rolling around in his head.

  So he started from the very beginning, divulging every last detail: the sudden onset of confusion while performing on stage, the odd lightheaded sensation that had come and gone, bringing about a strange disassociation with the music; the panic attack in the backstage bathroom, the dark man at the party (to which Danto nodded responsively), and the envelope he left at the diner. Bev told him about the beetles in his apartment that had seemed to appear and disappear at will (Rebecca responded with a look of horror, not unlike Kristin had); about the numerous episodes that had occurred while driving: how he’d felt unexplainably angry and hostile; the out-of-body feeling and the sudden aroma of burning coals; the fingers in his head that had simulated a sensation of digging, as though his skull were slowly being chipped away at; the sudden anxiety; and, the voice in his head: accented, and foretelling.

  He spoke of his lunch date with Kristin at the beach, how he’d finally opened the envelope and found that he’d been invited to some sort of exclusive gathering (Danto nodded again). He mentioned the men that had followed them along the beach, and the demon-like hallucinations that had appeared in his reflections; of his apparent blackout and subsequent waking up at Jake’s party; and then, the events following the party: Jake being drunk, Bev and Rebecca spending the night together—revealing this brought about memories of his dreams, of how he’d awoken with the slashes on his palms after meeting Father Danto in a sea of lava. He went on to describe his meeting with Doctor Palumba, and then, his trip to Kristin’s apartment and his dark discoveries within: her occultic studies, plus, Julianne’s polluted past and her apparent self-sacrifice to the dark side in an effort to bring about success for Bev and Kristin.

  He continued with the phone call from Rebecca about Jake’s sudden passing, his meeting with Detective Grover, and the scars on his hands that had mysteriously healed. He told of the rearrangement of the studio in his apartment (including the pentagram shape constructed with his guitars), and his mental communication with the presence upon the limo’s arrival. And then, finally, hi
s decision to flee after the terrible attack on his mind and body. When Bev appeared finished, Rebecca explained to Danto of her arrival at Bev’s place and her hurried decision to follow him in the woods for fear that he might hurt himself over Jake’s death.

  Danto remained silent, staring at Bev with disconcerted eyes, as though waiting for him to add a few more important details. Finally, Bev asked, “What do you make of all this?”

  The priest nodded in earnest. “I make much of it.” He looked at his watch, then leaned over, pulled the curtain aside, and peered out the rainy-wet window. “The hour is getting late. We have much work ahead of us, and so little time.”

  “Work? What work? Father, please...can you give me a bit of insight here before I completely lose my mind?”

  The priest grinned ruefully. “You are not losing your mind...in a clinical sense, that is. But, there is something dire happening...something that is not only affecting you, but a number of other people as well. At this very moment, there are other innocents out there—unoffending folks like yourself—that are experiencing all the same terrible sensations you are. And, many at this point, I might add, to a much greater degree.”

  “Jesus, are you trying to tell me that it gets worse than this?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “Please, Father, what is it? What’s happening?” In a dark corner of his mind, however, he already knew. It can only be speculated as to what an individual may experience while under demonic possession. At first, they may feel suddenly ill, nauseous and dizzy...

  Danto leaned forward. “Does the word Legion mean anything to you?”

  Bev and Rebecca shook their heads in unison.

  Danto blew out, looking white and nervous, as though he’d raised a subject that would bring about great pains. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, again glancing at his watch. “There’s a story in the Bible, one that tells of Jesus’s miraculous calming of a great storm that had filled Jerusalem’s homes with sand, subsequently absorbing all the city’s holy waters. After performing his miracle, Jesus traveled into deserts of Gerasenes in Israel and met a man there claiming to be possessed by thirteen demons. This man was unsettled, naked, and had been living in a tomb, under guard by many men. He claimed to have broken the chains that had bonded him and had escaped by frightening away those who were watching him. When Jesus asked the man his name, he replied, ‘I am Legion, for we are many’. Jesus then commanded the demons out of the man into a herd of thirteen swine feeding on the hillside. The possessed herd ran down the hillside into the desert, where they buried themselves in the sand and remained out of contact for years. Soon, the holy waters returned, and the pigs drowned, so it is said. This, as the Bible relates, is the first story of God’s conflict with evil. And it is a powerful one too—the demons had realized that they could not defeat the son of God, having elected to be placed into swine instead of the abyss where they would remain for eternity. This was one of God’s first mistakes, sparing the demons—it is assumed that there would not have been a temptation of evil today if the demons had been sent into the infernal abyss.

  “It is known in the Church that regardless of the passage of time, demonic forces will always oppose that which is good. These thirteen demons knew that Jesus’ coming would hinder them from performing their evil wills. So, to avoid permanent exile, they chose to sleep within the pigs, knowing that eventually, they would be released.

  “The demon-swine remained sequestered until, years later, one man, Allieb, sought to release them unto the world, offering them the bodies of thirteen children into which they could escape the drowned swine. But Allieb had ulterior motives. As a master demonologist, he raised the soul of his father, the demon Belial, then made attempts to subsequently draw the remaining demons from the children’s bodies into his own body. By doing this, he aimed to gain immense power over the world by sharing his own soul with the thirteen demons once released by Jesus Christ. Allieb had been successful to a certain degree, but was ultimately murdered for his crimes before the entire transition could take place. He was buried in a tomb in the Negev Desert, where his body remained for over two thousand years.”

  “You mentioned this at the party last night.”

  Danto nodded. “But there are additional details you must know.”

  Bev nodded.

  The priest continued. “By chance, in ‘67, during the Six-Day War, while I was studying at the University of Archaeology in Jerusalem, Allieb’s tomb was uncovered. As I’d mentioned, a young boy had been found hiding inside. I didn’t realize it at first, but it became apparent to me after my six months of study of the tomb and its history, that Allieb’s soul might’ve been released into the six-year-old. Once I discovered the exact nature of Allieb’s history, I felt no choice but to follow the boy (who’d uttered very few words upon his rescue, his professed name being one of them: Allieb) to America, where he’d been adopted by an American minister and his wife. I eventually located the family and kept close tabs on the boy until...” Danto paused, sipped some water, then said, “Well…let’s just say I’d been correct in my deduction. Within a few months of my arrival, the soul of Allieb had completely taken over the boy’s body, and had immediately begun summoning the thirteen demons. This poor boy, whose true identity had never been discovered, had become the two-thousand-year-old Allieb. But...the boy’s body had not been strong enough to absorb the soul of the ancient demonologist, and the demonic souls—he was to have brought the demons into individual human vehicles first, which he failed to do. This would have weakened the souls, allowing Allieb to more easily absorb them with his own soul. It can only be assumed that the soul of Allieb, two thousand years in waiting, had ignored his father’s counsel, and had impetuously commenced with the drawing.”

  Danto took another sip of water, allowing Bev a moment to ask, “How do you know all of this, that the boy had become possessed by the soul of Allieb, and Belial?”

  “And a number of other demon spirits as well,” Danto added.

  “Right.”

  He stared at Bev. “Because I exorcised the souls from his body.”

  ~ * ~

  The two men, priest and reverend, moved to opposing sides of the boy, out of his grasping reach. Eyes filled with hostility peered up at them. A dense lull suffocated the basement. Then the boy stroked his erect penis, chains dangling from his jerking wrist. Thick yellow ooze seeped from his urethra. “Suck me, father,” he cooed playfully. Then barked, “Choke on my jism!”

  “Who are you?” Danto asked, making the sign of the cross on himself.

  “You know, proud papa.”

  “Allieb. The demonologist?”

  “Maybe,” the boy growled.

  “Or, are you one of the thirteen demons?”

  Allieb seethed. “I am in full control of the dark souls...all thirteen!”

  Danto thought, He’s lying. “Show one to me,” he asked.

  The boy yanked on the chains and barked like a dog. White foam appeared on his mouth.

  “Was that one of the demons?”

  The boy cowered, sniggering, eyes yellow and peering up through crust-laden lashes.

  The priest and the minister kneeled down and prayed aloud, exchanging verses from the Bible over the boy’s depraved laughter. “Deliver us from the evil!” The boy howled with specious merriment, louder, louder, drowning out their forceful supplications. Upon completion of the first set of prayers, Danto removed a vial of holy water from his pocket. He removed the cap, and showered the boy. Wails of pain filled the room, the boy, writhing on the cement floor like an injured insect, the veins in his arms and legs swelling like balloons; his tongue, dangling from his mouth, dripping thick white fluid. An eerie chorus of anguished voices sprouted from his widening mouth.

  And they prayed and showered the blessed water: “Take thy unclean spirit and condemn it into the abyss for eternity!” The boy hissed like a reptile, oinked like a pig, honked like a steer, arching his back into a U-shape so that the re
ar of his skull nearly touched his reaching heels. Items flew across the room and collided against the ceiling and walls: a paintbrush, a plastic bucket, tattered rags.

  “No power to the enemy! Lord, hear our prayers!” The boy’s body snapped back into shape, his head, making hard contact with the cement floor. Blood gushed out in a shocking spray. “Jesus!” Thornton yelled, the boy, rising suddenly off the ground, the manacles clanging harshly in the curdling silence. He levitated for an indeterminable amount of time, canine eyes doused in blood, staring through the two men as they continued praying aloud, showering the boy with holy water. His limbs strained, continued to fight their steel bonds, his mouth open, brown saliva pouring out, splatting the floor.

  They continued their prayers: “Lord, Jesus Christ, take back this beast planting Satan’s debris, and drive it into the abyss to rot for eternity!”

  The boy fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. He twisted his neck around and peered up at the men with dark, baleful eyes. The voice of a grown man emerged from his lips. “The demons are leaving,” said the voice. “But I still remain.”

  There was a sudden, horrid stench, as liquid feces exploded from the boy’s rectum. “Danto screamed, “Be gone, befouled spirit, and take thy demons with you!”

  The boy tilted his head down, quiet and unmoving. His eyes rolled maniacally in their sockets, like eggs in boiling water. Thornton watched intensely as his adopted son choked and coughed, spasmed uncontrollably. His limbs twisted into impossible angles, the bones popping and snapping, the skin stretching redly. The room grew icy cold, the feces on the floor vaporizing, filling the room with putrid steam. The lone light bulb flickered, brightened, dulled.

  “Return to the depths of hell and wallow in Satan’s wasteland!”

  In the grown man’s voice, the boy uttered brokenly, “Satan refuses to join...he disputes the Legion...” Tears sprouted from his eyes. “Beelzebub is gone...Baphomet...gone...Rex Mundi...gone…Satan has retrieved his brethren. Damn him...”