Saw the many spiky protrusions of splintered rib struggling to rupture the flesh of my torso. My sides swarmed with bobbing shards of bone, the agony of the ravaged tissue unendurable. I wailed, patting the undulating flesh as though I could succor the bones into lying flat, but the touch of my fingers only awoke greater violence, my entire ribcage spreading and contracting in a chorus of dull crunches and dreadful snaps. Just above my spleen, a rib fractured with such force that the flesh ripped open, the gory hole it made not unlike a bullet’s exit wound.
In my extremity, I would not have believed it possible that my horror could wax any greater, but that was underestimating the ancient presence within me, was ignoring the myriad proofs of dominance Malephar had already unleashed.
My hands rose toward my face. My bloody mouth hinged open.
It wasn’t until my eyes flicked downward that I realized I was grasping a razor blade.
As I’ve said, I had no father figure, and though my grandfather was a good man, I seldom got to see him. When I did, he would always give me little gifts, many of which I still possessed. One of my favorites had been an old-fashioned safety razor, the kind that weighed five times more than a disposable razor and felt good in one’s hand. I still shaved with this razor and therefore made it a habit to maintain a supply of fresh razor blades. The night after Malephar had selected me as his newest host, I had awakened to find one of the razor blades pinched between my thumb and forefinger, the blade poised near my jugular. I had overmastered the demon, disposed of the blade, and resolved to rid my house of all lethal objects.
However, I had been so busy since then that I’d neglected to follow through on this resolution.
The razor hovered nearer my face, but this time I didn’t possess the ability to stay the demon’s terrible work. I watched in horror as my lips drew back to reveal my teeth and gums. I made a high humming sound, concentrated all my will on wrenching my face aside, on letting go of the razor blade. But my hand continued to rise, the blade creeping nearer and nearer my face. My eyes tracked the blade’s progress until it ventured too close for my peripheral vision to see.
I glanced at my reflection and saw the blade floating an inch from my mouth.
I thought at first the demon would turn the blade sideways and, like some sick parody of dental floss, jam the blade into the tender skin of my gums.
Malephar had other plans. He kept the blade parallel to my front teeth, touched the cutting surface against the base of my right upper incisor, and slowly pushed the blade higher. A curl of off-white tissue formed above the rising razor, the demon shearing off the enamel of my tooth. The blade continued upward until it met my gum, at which point it sank in deeper, slicing off a section of pink tissue all the way to my inner lip.
The razor lowered to the bottom of the same tooth and began peeling off another layer.
The pain intensified.
My humming had become a moan, and my left hand was fluttering weakly at my side. I fought with the strength of panic, yet my face scarcely moved, the hand that wielded the blade moving even less. When the razor pierced my gum a second time, a syrupy gout of blood splattered on the mirror. I was sobbing, fully sensitized to the agony in my mouth, and as my eyes rolled around in impotent terror, I saw that the splintering of my ribs had spread to my clavicles and hipbones. Every part of my body from the neck down seemed to be twitching, cracking, the bones transforming into sentient creatures eager to explore their surroundings.
The pain was soul-shattering, yet the greater horror was the razor blade, which was shearing a third layer off my tooth. This time the cut was so deep that only a membranous layer of tissue still sheathed the dental nerve. I could glimpse the pinkish-purple matter beneath as the layer of tooth curled higher, and when the blade embedded in the gum this time, I felt it scrape the bone beneath. A sound unlike any I’d heard a living creature utter escaped my mouth, a shrill, ululating siren, one that went on and on.
But the demon wasn’t finished.
When the razor punctured the inner layer of my tooth and the nerve was severed, I voided my bowels and vomited into the sink. So supreme was my anguish that I ceased to dwell in this reality, found myself entering a feverish nightmare world of pain. Malephar only chortled at me and continued his relentless onslaught. I was aware of my body changing, contorting, the bones breaking and rearranging themselves into pulsing, grotesque shapes.
Just when I believed the horror and the agony couldn’t grow worse, Malephar repositioned the razor blade, grasping it perpendicular to my front teeth. Then, before I could register his intent, he thrust the razor blade into my savaged tooth, cleaving it into two pieces and burying the blade in my gum.
This time the furnace blast of pain was too great to endure.
I fainted.
Chapter Fourteen
I awoke in a pool of my own bodily fluids. Though it filled me with dread to do so, I brought a hand to my mouth, and though I gasped at how sensitive my gums were, the tooth seemed to be intact. Groaning, I managed to rise. My body felt like a bag of broken glass, but my reflection showed I’d been healing. There were bruises all over my chest, puncture wounds that hadn’t fully knitted. But I knew Malephar had allowed me to live, having proved his point.
I spent an hour in bed, darkly fascinated at the gradual healing taking place in my body.
When I felt better, I set about cleaning up, wondering idly how much abuse one body could take. I was a danger, not only to myself, but to others. That was never more evident than now. Malephar could make me do anything. I wondered why he hadn’t forced me to hurt someone I cared about.
I brushed away the thought. I had three hours before I was to meet Father Patterson so we could begin following Tyler Raines.
In the meantime, I wanted to see Liz.
Yes, I decided, purposeful now. I showered off the residual grime, got dressed quickly, and wolfed down a salami sandwich. Though I didn’t want to examine myself in the mirror again, I knew it was a necessity. There mustn’t be any sign of the gruesome self-mutilation that occurred earlier, any remnant of the rib-splintering episode in the bathroom.
I bared my teeth before the vanity mirror and detected no sign of trauma. I believed the emotional and psychological damage from that horrid episode would never fully heal, but outwardly, I appeared fine. I lifted my black t-shirt and assessed my ribcage. Totally intact, with no rogue bone splinters tenting my skin. Satisfied, I started out, then remembered the salami I’d devoured. If I was ever to kiss Liz, I didn’t want my breath to smell like a garlic-tinged slaughterhouse, so I brushed my teeth thoroughly and scrubbed my tongue to fully rid it of any unpleasant odor.
I thought of calling Liz before I drove over, the way I usually did, but for some reason decided it would be better to show up unannounced.
As usual, my decision-making proved poor.
I knew that as soon as Liz answered her door. Her short blond hair was tousled, her eyes puffy. I realized with alarm she’d been crying, and my first thought was of Ron, who’d no doubt stirred up trouble by making some threat or ignoring the restraining order.
I was so sure this was the cause of Liz’s angst that I bulled past her and began shooting furious glances around the foyer. I had saved Ron’s life at that convenience store, and his manner of repaying me was to torment the woman I was growing to love? I would hammer that sarcastic smirk of his with my fists, would beat the arrogance out of him until he howled for mercy.
Liz said, “I don’t think—”
“Where is he?” I growled.
“Who? Jason, you—”
“Ron,” I answered. “I’m going to make him understand he doesn’t have a place in your life anymore, that this isn’t his house—”
“That’s right,” she said, spinning me around to face her. “It’s mine. And the sooner you and my son acknowledge that, the better off everybody will be.”
I stared at her in bemusement. She let go of my arm, blew a lock of hair off her
forehead. “Casey found the room. You know, where I’ve been studying the crimes?”
I nodded.
“I keep it locked, but somehow he got in. It’s not like it’s that difficult, the kind of lock you can pop open with a paperclip.”
“Why is this a problem?” I asked. “It’s not like you’re doing anything reprehensible in there.”
She grunted a mirthless laugh. “You would’ve thought so, the way he reacted.”
“How did he react?”
“He screamed at me, threw things. I’ve never seen him like that. At least…not while he was in control of himself.”
We fell silent at the reference to Malephar’s possession of Casey.
At length, I said, “Your son needs understanding.”
She gave me a sardonic look.
“He’s been through an incredible ordeal,” I went on, “one that would have killed most people, or at the very least left their minds shattered.”
“This isn’t helping.”
“What I’m saying is that he’s resilient, Liz. He’ll bounce back.”
She crossed her arms, chewed a thumbnail. “I don’t know.”
“I do know,” I said, cupping her elbows. “If Casey can survive that hell he went through, he’ll return to his old self before long.”
There was real heat in the look she gave me. “And you know that, I suppose? You know exactly how being host to a demon and enduring a violent exorcism affects an adolescent psyche?”
I opened my mouth to reassure her, then realized how hollow my words would sound. Sighing, I said, “You’re right. I don’t know. In fact, very few people do. Father Sutherland would have. He was one of the foremost experts on exorcism in the country. Maybe the world.”
Fresh hope lit in her striking jade eyes. “You seemed to know a lot that night.”
“More than the average priest, yes. I’m fascinated by the darker areas of the faith. By the supernatural.” I shook my head. “But I know nothing compared to Peter Sutherland.”
“Well, he happens to be dead.”
“There’s an alarming paucity of information regarding the psychological aftermath of demonic possession. You have to remember, science and faith have too often been at war. In the view of science, there’s no such thing as evil, at least not of the otherworldly variety. And, unfortunately, those who do believe are often so eager to validate their faith that they leap to illogical conclusions. That’s why there have been so many disastrous exorcisms. Only a sliver of them are situations that call for spiritual intervention. Far more often, the culprit is schizophrenia.”
“Casey does not have schizophrenia.”
“I was there, Liz,” I said as soothingly as I could. “I know Casey was possessed. And our efforts to exorcise the offending spirit were successful.”
“Then why is he so different now?” she demanded. “Why can’t he be like before?”
“Liz…you’re going through a traumatic time.”
She pulled away. “Don’t you dare patronize me.”
“I’m not. I’m making a point. You’re enduring a severe trial. In the space of a week, your son has been possessed by a demon, the spirit has attacked you and your daughter, two men have died in your house, and now your family has been fractured because of revelations about your husband.”
“He’s not my husband.”
“To say there’s been an upheaval would be to trivialize the scope of your difficulties.”
“No shit.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “And hasn’t it affected you? Haven’t you lost sleep, found yourself acting differently? How much more pronounced would the effects be in Casey, the innocent child who was victimized by the demon?”
I could tell my words had sunk in. She gave me a strained look. “It’s like he hates me now, hates Carolyn.” She chewed her lip. “He despises you the most. It’s like he blames you for what happened.”
I lowered my gaze. “I see.”
And I did, to a degree. Though fairness would dictate an appreciation of me, the priest who co-authored the exorcism, human emotions were more complex than that. Casey associated me with the worst night of his life, with all manner of pain and terror. I was sure he still bore the imprint of the cross on his chest, the place where the wood had sizzled into his flesh during the ritual. Add to that the fact that Casey’s domestic life had been disarranged, his father cast out of the house as surely as the demon, and that I now seemed to be taking Ron’s place, and you had a multitude of reasons why Casey should look upon me with resentment.
Liz said, “The only one he talks to is his uncle. For some reason, he sees Danny as his ally and you as his enemy.”
Her words troubled me deeply, but I didn’t dare say anything about Danny. Not ninety minutes ago Malephar had demonstrated what would happen if I dared challenge his will.
She said, “I might as well tell you, Jason. You’re what we fought about today. He says you’re not what you claim to be. He thinks—”
“Casey is deceived,” I interrupted. I hardly knew what I was saying, but I couldn’t allow her to give voice to the theory I feared Casey now believed. “He can’t help but experience echoes of his time with the demon. That would include a mistrust of the clergy, would it not? A hostility toward the arch-enemies of the insidious presence?”
Her expression clouded, but now that I’d begun this train of thought, I was feverish to continue. “A demon is one of the foulest beings in the cosmos. Short of Satan himself, I can think of none fouler. The demon is distilled evil, an intelligence that has endured for eons, and in all that time has existed solely to further Satan’s work and has dedicated himself to the destruction of the fragile links between man and God.”
Liz watched me, interested. I went on, my voice echoing in the tall foyer. “Just think of all the terrible deeds a demon has wrought, Liz, all the monstrous things it has seen. I don’t mean to cause you more suffering, but you need to understand this truth: Casey cohabited with this entity. And just as the demon’s clairvoyance encompassed Casey’s thoughts, so too did Casey glimpse its sinister history. Who knows what foul horrors Casey witnessed while possessed by that monster? Who knows what sick, depraved thoughts he was exposed to? You heard Father Sutherland. The being we cast out of Casey was the most powerful, the most diabolical he’d ever encountered. And this was after a career of doing battle with evil.”
“So what are you telling me, Jason? That my son is lost? That he’ll never be the same?”
I saw the pain in her eyes and knew some measure of comfort was needed. “I don’t know what the long-term effects will be.” I took her hands. “I only know we need to be patient with Casey. He loves you very much. And in time he might even come to view me as a friend rather than the man trying to take his father’s place.”
It was the most suggestive statement I’d yet made, but I didn’t regret it. Nor did Liz look unhappy at my words. Our hands remained intertwined for a long, glorious moment. Then her expression grew troubled. “I need to check on Carolyn. Casey… he yelled at her a little while ago. She was trying to intervene…trying to get him to lay off me, and he really lit into her. The Casey I know would never be so cruel to his little sister.”
I took in the strain around Liz’s eyes, the seams in her normally smooth forehead. “Maybe I can talk to Carolyn. Do you know where she is?”
Liz nodded. “The basement. She always goes there when she’s upset.”
¨¨¨
I found Carolyn in a small playroom next door to Liz’s investigation room. The incongruousness of the two spaces brought a wry grin to my face. Carolyn slouched on a red beanbag with her legs crossed and an iPad in her lap. On the wall above her there were movie posters for The Incredibles, Tangled, Zootopia, and Beauty and the Beast.
Carolyn didn’t look up when I knelt before her.
“What are you playing?” I asked.
“I’m not playing anything.”
“Ah.” I endeavored to lean
over and glance at the screen, where I saw plain black text on a white background. “What are you reading?”
“The Princess Bride,” she muttered.
I nodded, impressed by her taste. “I recall reading that one. I watched the movie first though.”
She continued to stare at the screen, evidently having no comment on the movie.
“I heard Casey was sort of hard on you.”
“He’s a jerk.”
I stifled a grin. “I never had any siblings, so it’s tough for me to say.”
She looked up at me. “You don’t know when someone’s being a jerk?”
“I don’t know what it’s like to have a brother. Or a sister, for that matter. I imagine it’s pretty difficult.”
“It didn’t use to be,” she said, her eyes growing moist. “Casey didn’t use to act like this.”
I frowned. “I’m afraid Casey isn’t himself right now.”
“But he is,” she said, setting the iPad aside. “He wasn’t himself the other night…the night you and everyone else were here. In a way, that wasn’t as bad. Even though he hurt me, I knew it wasn’t really Casey doing it. But now…” She wiped her nose, sniffed. “Now it is Casey. Now there’s nothing controlling him. Except himself. Now he’s choosing to be mean.”
I opened my mouth to respond, then fell silent, annoyed with myself. I’d been speaking to her like she was naïve, but I now remembered she was nearly ten years old. Clearly, she was a highly intelligent child, one who deserved to be treated as such. I eased down on the floor. “I know you’ve been through a lot, Carolyn, and I don’t blame you for being frustrated.”
Her eyes narrowed.
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