The Sexorcism of Miriam Flack (The Reluctant Exorcist)

by Graves, Violet

  When she was assured that the prince’s position of repose was comfortable, I asked, “Are you his lover?”

  Because of my vows to the Lady Kathryn—founder of the Pneuma Erotas Exorciso—when I speak, I speak only the truth of what I am thinking or I cannot speak at all.

  She did not even blink. “No. He is too high maintenance for me.”

  I admired her honesty and her lack of offense at my question. With the prince effectively absent and a thick stone floor between the guardsmen and us, she relaxed in my presence.

  “And he has not taken a new lover since his marriage,” she continued. “I think her innocence has influenced his behavior. He did not lie when he advised you that she has known no other man. She was familiar with many forms of intercourse before meeting Mikael but she had not yet fully consummated-” She changed her tract mid-sentence, most likely realizing fatigue had loosened her tongue. “This information is highly personal and not helpful. I should not be speaking of it.”

  On the contrary, the knowledge of Miriam’s sexual history might be of assistance—what aroused the afflicted could be useful in evicting the invasive specter—but I did not press the issue. There was very little chance that the Lady knew if the princess preferred cunnilingus to tea-bagging.

  “But you do not love her,” she said. “Why would you be prepared to die for her?”

  “Are you familiar with my organization and our vows?” I asked. She nodded. “Then you know that I do not plan to die for the princess or anyone else. I have every intention to triumph. I would not risk my life otherwise.”

  “But you are risking your life.” She spoke forcefully, as though I already knew the following information. “Two clergy have already died trying to—”

  “What?” My tone was sharp. “Died?” I stood up and my flickering shadow danced over her cringing form. “Has she turned vampiric?” Had I been deceived? Did they drag me up here to be sacrificed for a lost cause?

  “She did not kill for blood!” The Lady half-rose, one hand extended to placate me. “It was more for entertainment. She- she convinced them to suicide. They jumped from a window of the palace. That’s when we realized she was more than just a danger to herself. That’s when we had her moved out to the island.”

  I paced round the room, flushing blood through my limbs in an effort to calm my anger. This information had certainly taken its time coming into the light. The talent for turning an exorcist’s fear into self-harm was a sign that the creature had more than one possession under its ethereal belt. Removing a specter from its human host was only half the job. If not thoroughly vetted, it could simply move on to a more vulnerable person—as this one obviously had—moments, months, or millennia after the fact. Hence, the necessity of my organization’s more thorough practice.

  There was also the question as to why the specter had made such a show and then not left when caught. When it realized there was no faking it, no freedom to be found in this new world, it should have fled. But it had not. There was something amiss.

  “This is an experienced creature,” I said, thinking out loud.

  “The demon is powerful.”

  “Demon is a misnomer.” My voice came out harsher than I had intended. I softened my tone. “There are no such things as demons. This is most likely an unlicensed and opportunistic familial atavus.”

  “Familial atavus,” the Lady repeated slowly, tasting the word and finding it bitter. “An ancestral spirit.”

  “Yes. This creature has most likely been waiting for an opportunity to return to the physical plane through the body of a descendant. Earthbound spirits are drawn to those with similar magnetic resonance. The chances of full possession and control are better in those related by blood, much like matching blood types for organ trans-“

  She cut me off. “I am aware of how such things-”

  The creature screamed and its monstrous voice reverberated through the whole of the tower.

  “The two of you are driving me nuts! FUCK, FIGHT, OR GET OUT OF THE SHOT!”

  Chapter Six

  Like A Blessing

  We stood in the antechamber. The beast slavered on the other side of the door. Lady Olofsdotter lifted a heavy key from a hook in the stone wall. Her hands were shaking like sapling limbs in a stiff breeze but her voice was steady.

  “Her Royal Highness has been restrained with an iron collar and chain,” she advised. “She cannot reach the door but I will lock it behind you for reasons of security. It can also be barred from within. I will not open the door until I am assured that you are the victor.” She thought about that situation for a moment. “How will I know the demon has not moved from the princess to you?”

  “I cannot be possessed,” I said. “I have several genetic deficiencies that make me impervious to spectral interference.”

  “That does not sound like a deficiency. That sounds like a blessing.”

  “Yes, in my line of work, it is.”

  She regarded me for a long moment. I was surprised when I witnessed her gaze drop from my eyes to my lips. My arousal was intense and I realized that my own energy—combined with the electro-magnetic pulses emanating from the creature on the other side of the door—was starting to affect her. Her fear was edging towards lust. My own longing rose in response to her attention.

  “You must leave,” I said, my tone firm.

  She blinked, suddenly aware of her ridiculous distraction. “I wish you luck, Professor,” she said, with a ring of finality. “How long will His Highness be… resting?” she asked.

  “Three hours… perhaps four.”

  “How long will you be engaged in your task?”

  “If I am not done within twenty-four hours, I have lost.”

  “Then I strongly suggest you bar the door from the inside as well.” She unlocked the door and yanked on the thick handle. The hinges groaned despite the slick, black coating of grease. The wood scraped the stone. “That way, if you are not victorious, the room will remain sealed until the authorities arrive.”

  I agreed. She averted her eyes, refusing to look at me or into the room as I stepped inside. The door closed behind me and I heard massive tumblers turn in the depths of the lock.

  I was alone in a room with a princess and her phantasm.

  Chapter Seven

  The Unfortunate Princess

  The unfortunate princess was naked and chained by the neck to a stone in the wall. She crouched like a feral gargoyle on the far side of the round room and hissed through porcelain-capped teeth. The links of the restraints draped her shoulders like an iron boa. Remnants of make-up shadowed her eyes and sloughed down her cheeks; otherwise her skin was bare of anything but the glisten of salt from her sweat. Her long black hair was a mass of unwashed dreads and an errant tiara dangled from a twisted lock.

  The skin above and below the iron collar was black with blood and bruising. The fresh crimson rivulets that ran down her throat and chest indicated that she had recently struggled against the restraints. The air reeked of perfumes wafting up from the shattered bottles on the floor. Lingering beneath the floral cloud was a miasma of sulfur, sweat, and sex. The heavily fortified room had been well appointed for the comfort of its reluctant guest but the princess could not appreciate the luxury of her prison as she currently dwelled deep in the dark of her subconscious mind.

  The interloper glared through the woman’s eyes. The light of its power made her irises glitter like emeralds. The tiny muscles twitched and pulsed as the creature manually focused on me. If the princess was still in there, she was deep in the throes of a nightmare and blind to reality. Only the beast could see me now.

  “Does you want to play with the pretty princess?” The creature spoke in guttural tones dragged from the depths of Miriam’s throat, without moving her lips. Her accent mimicked my own. She reached down and cupped one heavy breast. “Aren’t these titties pretty?” She pinched the nipple between her thumb and forefinger until a bead of blood formed at the tip. “Don’t y
ou just want to bite them?”

  The sensation of ice water coursed down my spine. My nipples tightened in empathy. Despite having intense familiarity with spectral interference, the sight of the possessed woman made my hindbrain squeal. I might have been less disturbed if the angle in which she crouched was one where the wall met the floor, not the ceiling.

  “What is your name, creature?” I demanded.

  “Your Highness,” the creature responded, her throat jerking with each word. “I am a princess and shall be addressed as such.” Her eyes slowly raked the length of my form. Her gaze burned. She had power. This exorcism would not be an easy undertaking. “Such a pretty, pretty boy, you are. I wonder what you would look like without your skin.”

  I ignored her threat and took off my coat. I draped it over the support bar of an upturned chair. “You must be very hungry by now, Your Highness. You’ve been trapped here for days. I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long.”

  Her pupils vibrated as she tried to get a read on me. She would find this task difficult, if not impossible. Both my training and my bloodline rendered me silent and invisible to specters unless they were using the eyes and ears of a host. In turn—in their non-corporeal form—specters were invisible to me as well. I was a genetic throwback, deficient in many ways.

  I used these deficiencies to my advantage. A stronger heart than mine would be needed to face a specter that had access to the nightmares lurking in my subconscious realm. There were plenty to choose from but she would not be privy to my thoughts unless I spoke them out loud.

  “You are not like the others who came before,” she growled. “You are not yet as frightened as they were.”

  “Why should I be frightened? You’re chained to a wall.”

  She pulled back her lips and snarled. Her dehydrated gums had receded and made her teeth look elongated and sharp. “I will fuck your skinless corpse.”

  “That would be distasteful and exceedingly rude,” I said.

  Her snarl morphed into a smile and her voice softened to a purr. “I like your attitude, pretty boy. Such a shame you gave your life to the church. The fun we could have!”

  “I am all about the fun,” I advised her. “My organization is rather hedonistic.”

  “What sort of clergy are you? Where are your sacred texts, your holy relics, and your lucky charms?”

  “I am not clergy. I am a secular exorcist. I am here to negotiate on behalf of the royal family.”

  The smile turned to a sneer and then a snarl. Her crouch deepened as though she might launch from her corner. Muscles writhed like thick snakes beneath the pale skin of her strong thighs. Her accent became more Germanic. “I will make a corset of your ribs and wear it to my coronation. That is how I negotiate.” She spat out the last word and her spittle smoked on the floor.

  “If you kill me—and wear my bones like a bustier—your thirst will turn to blood. I don’t think you would have chosen such a high profile target if your desire was to become a vampire. Vampires may be immortal but they are not very long-lived.”

  “I’ve known many ancient vampires. They are like gods.”

  “Obviously, you haven’t cracked open a history book in the last twenty years or so. The ancients are dead or in deep hiding and the new ones are easily picked off. The bounty on the teeth of a vampire is quite substantial.”

  Her flickering pupils stilled and her eyes narrowed. “Maybe it’s time for a change,” she said. Her gaze bored into me.

  I let her try to delve into my soul for a few moments. Demons relied on the ability to personalize terror by tempering fiction with stolen truths. The frustration of being unable to pull the fears from my mind and play them out before me became apparent on her purloined features. She was trying so hard to read me that I smelled scorched hair.

  “Gah,” she gasped, finally taking a breath. “What are you?”

  “I am an exorcist but if you are so desperate that blood thirst prevails then my interference is unnecessary. I am not a vampire killer. I will take my leave and advise the royal family that their princess is forever lost.”

  “You’re going to give up that easy?”

  I gave her a one-shouldered shrug. “I thought I’d give it a try. The reality is, the powers-that-be already consider the princess to be lost. She will be sealed within this tower. Perhaps, if the laws change, she will be humanely euthanized.”

  I picked up my jacket and turned my back on the creature. I was planning to leave but I knew that I would not have to. Before I could take my third step towards the door, she spoke in a clear and human voice.

  “Wait.”

  The game was on.

  “I would like to discuss this matter at more length.” Her guttural voice had transformed into a sweet, Southern, and feminine tone. She was sussing my proclivities.

  I touched the thumb and index finger of my left hand to my forehead, my right cheek, my left cheek, and then my lips. Kathryn’s Kiss is how I begin every ritual. The blessing of our organization’s founding mother was not a superstition. The movement was a command to my body—like a hand-signal used with an obedient dog—to prepare. Heat swirled in my belly, thighs, and buttocks, converging on my groin from all directions. I would find blessed release this day or night.

  I turned to face the demon once again.

  Chapter Eight

  An Opportunistic Familial Atavus

  While my back was turned, the creature had moved with inhuman speed and now sat—impaled—on top of a bedpost as though she were perched at the edge of an office chair. Her back was straight, her knees were pressed together, her legs demurely crossed at the ankles, and her bare feet braced against the wood. She clasped her hands and leaned forward, an expectant smile on her lovely face. Fresh mascara-tinged tears streamed down her pale cheeks. The body was in pain. The specter was appreciative of its suffering.

  “Please, have a seat.” With one long, slender arm, she politely indicated the bedpost across from hers.

  “I prefer to stand in the presence of Her Royal Highness.”

  She threw back her head and a delightful laugh shimmied up from her depths. When she had sufficiently recovered from her gaiety, she wiped the tears of agony from her cheeks as though they had been borne of mirth. “Oh my, I do appreciate that sort of deference.”

  With a soft, sucking sound, her body lifted from the post. Pain winced across the human face. The expression was a good sign that the real princess still dwelled within reach. The creature embraced the wood with her legs and slid down the pole until her bottom rested on the feather mattress. Her hands slowly caressed the length of the pole while she spoke.

  “My previous visitors were quite rude,” she said. “They shrieked at me in Latin, splashed me with cold Holy water, and refused to listen when I spoke. They were completely unreasonable. You, on the other hand, are ever so polite. I feel as though you and I could have a pleasant conversation. I have not had a conversation in a very long time.”

  “I would take great pleasure in having a conversation with an entity such as yourself. I’m sure your insights would prove fascinating.”

  While she seemed pleased with the implied compliment, she did take a mild offense. “The way you say that word entity—it disregards my humanity. It’s almost hurtful.”

  “I meant no disrespect.”

  “Of course you didn’t.” She rolled her borrowed eyes. “I am already bored with this conversation. Perhaps I should simply walk out of here in your body.”

  “That would be a reasonable option,” I said. “But you can’t.”

  She growled and glared. “What you say is true. I tried to jump when I sensed your power through the door but I was repulsed by… something. The sensation was strange and slippery. What are you?”

  “Nothing more than a man.” I glanced at my watch.

  “Am I boring you? Shouldn’t you be humoring me? Aren’t I the one with the hostage?” She tweaked her nipples, hard.

  “You have the hostag
e but I have the power.” I removed my suit jacket, carefully folded the shoulders together, and draped it over the top of my greatcoat. “Let’s get started, shall we? I would like to be home at a reasonable hour.”

  “Your charm is failing.” She swung her leg free of the post and slowly stood. “You certainly aren’t making a case for me to not kill you.”

  “You should have left the princess when you had the chance. I assume this hubris was based on a lack of experience. Perhaps you are a young and silly creature who dreamed of being a princess and tried to take a shortcut.”

  The narcissism of an infiltrating phantasm is dangerous to those who poke the beast but it is also debilitating to the beast itself. Their flesh is still raw and like teenagers in the high tide of hormones—or perhaps toddlers in the throes of a tantrum—they can be blinded by anger.

  She reached the end of her restraints in a blur of motion. Her face bulged as the collar stopped her supply of blood. “If I have nothing to lose then your death may be the only pleasure left to me. Which part of your body would you like to eat first?”

  My tongue turned to wood. I am no fool; the creature intimidated me. I swallowed and my throat clicked with the effort. “I would offer an alternative recreation.”

  She appreciated the concern in my voice. “What can you do, meat slug, that the other holy men and women could not? They came armed with the trinkets of their faltering faiths. You bring nothing but your flesh.”

  Her extended smile exposed all of her pretty white teeth, back to the molars. The expression would cause pain to the afflicted woman. An experienced specter will often use discomfort to subject a victim. Deep, visceral pain is the most effective—twisting internal organs, blocking sphincters, and the like—but the petty annoyances will work as well, much like spurs on a horse, once the human spirit is sufficiently subdued.