by Sara DeHaven
“I wish I knew he could understand the concept of building trust,” Bree replied as she tucked a lock on hair behind her ear. “Not that I think I could ever truly trust him. A demon that old has to have the most unmitigated history of violence. I’m sure I can’t even imagine some of the things he’s done. Nor do I want to.”
“You can’t trust someone you can’t understand,” Daniel replied. “And we can't understand demons, or have a real shot at getting rid of them unless we have contact with them, even allow possessions. You know, in a way, the demons are the only aliens we’ve ever encountered. They’re a unique life form, and if we’re to believe what Gelsenim told us before, they weren’t always innately violent.”
“So what you're saying is that I should probably allow a possession. It should definitely be me, not you, since it didn’t appear to harm me before," Bree replied. "In fact, it worried me more how good it felt. I don’t want to get addicted."
“That is the risk,” Daniel admitted. “But we’ve just got to keep taking it slow. You’re right about that.”
“What say maybe we give it a go next Saturday? I’m afraid if we delay any longer, Gelsenim will become even more unmanageable.” Bree said, getting slowly to her feet, ready to end the tension of this conversation, of this whole subject. She just wanted to go home and curl up with a good book on the couch and forget demons and possessions even existed.
Daniel agreed, and he led the way downstairs to the main floor of his house. It was a building that had once been a neighborhood store and had been converted to a house. Two of the walls were exposed brick, and there were wood floors that had been waxed but still bore some of the scars of long use under the fresh topcoat. Daniel had more plants than the average guy, but otherwise, it was a typically masculine space; sparsely furnished with an old leather couch, a Navajo rug in oranges and reds half rumpled in front of it, a worn green recliner, and a round wood table in the kitchen area surrounded by mismatched chairs.
The paintings were the other unique feature. There were a collection of small canvases Daniel had told her were by artists he’d known and traded with back in Boston, and there were some large works Daniel had painted himself, mostly abstract takes on the New England woodlands where he’d grown up. They were all of transitional seasons and times of day: Autumn, spring, twilight, dawn. Daniel’s paintings weren’t polished in terms of technique, but they captured a dreamlike quality, a sense of the landscape as seen through a child’s eyes, when the world is full of the unseen, the half-felt wonder and fear of another world ghosting into our own. Bree’s eyes lingered on her favorite, one depicting a forest in the spring, as she got her coat on. Then she pulled her cell phone out of her coat pocket for a quick check and saw that she’d missed a call. It was a number that caused her to freeze momentarily in dismay.
“What is it?” Daniel asked quickly.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Father Steuban just called. Let me check the message.” Daniel waited while she listened to her voice mail. When it finished, she turned back to him. “Well that was fast,” she said uneasily. “He already has one for us. That’s what I get for putting out there that I was ready. He wants us to do an exorcism. Tomorrow if at all possible.”
CHAPTER TWO
St. Stephan’s was Father Steuban’s parish, and Bree had been attending mass sporadically at the humble church at the north end of Seattle for the last eleven years or so. She had chosen St. Stephan’s over a number of more prosperous parishes with far more lovely churches because of Father Steuban’s warmth and kindness, as well as his understanding of demon kind. Exorcisms had fallen very much out of favor in the modern American Catholic church, and where they were practiced, they were not always done on people with actual demon possession.
Father Steuban was that rare priest who knew demons existed but did not, as a result, see them everywhere, in every acting out teenager, alcoholic mother or mentally ill father. There was another priest in Seattle like that, and he caused more trouble than he solved. Father Steuban also had the distinction of being a normal trusted with the secret of the existence of magic users who had the capacity to perform exorcisms. He was discreet, sensible, and had something much like low powered Demonsense. He was also disorganized, harried, and a little too fond of good food. In spite of his portly, unprepossessing appearance, he had a covey of older lady admirers in the parish, as did so many priests. He was with one of them when she and Daniel arrived for the exorcism.
“And thank you so much for the beautiful flowers for Mass today, Mrs. Chilson. There is nothing so hopeful as daffodils on these grey March days,” he was saying to the short, middle aged woman with overly bright red hair who was smiling up at him a touch fatuously. “And now, I’ll have to ask you to excuse me,” the priest went on, putting a hand on the woman’s shoulder and gently steering her in the direction of the front door, “I have some business with these two young people.”
Bree smiled inwardly at she and Daniel being portrayed as “young people,” given she was twenty nine and Daniel thirty four, but she supposed to someone in his early sixties, as Father Steuban was, they seemed young.
Mrs. Chilson nodded in friendly greeting as she walked by, chattering on with Father Steuban about a few last details regarding care of the sanctuary. Daniel had his hands in the pockets of his green corduroy jacket, and he looked around with interest. “What’s wrong, never been in a Catholic church before?” Bree teased him quietly.
“Once or twice,” he answered with a small smile, “but I’ve never performed an exorcism in one.”
“Seriously?” Bree asked in some surprise. “I’d think Keepers in Boston would have links to the Catholic Church. With the big Irish culture there, I’d imagine there'd be Catholic churches on every other corner.”
Daniel shrugged. “There are Catholics aplenty, and Keepers with ties to specific churches, but I was never one of those. Wrong background, I think. My father flirted with Norse paganism, so that's the tradition I come from."
Bree would have liked to ask more. She was curious about Daniel’s career in powered law enforcement, which he’d given up on his move to Seattle last fall, but Father Steuban was approaching.
“All right then!" He held out his hand to Daniel to shake, then turned to Bree and shook hers as well. “Welcome to you both, and thank you for coming so quickly. The young man in question is in dire need, and I didn’t want to leave it for long. But let’s all take a seat so we can be comfortable while I fill you in before he gets here.”
Father Steuban launched straight into the story as he reclined with one arm along the back of the pew. “So, the young man’s name is Geoff, and his mother is the one who suspected possession. He’s eighteen, and recently moved in with some friends, which I gather his mother didn’t think he was ready for. He was always a bit wild, one of those kids who didn’t do that well in school, smoked too much pot, fought a lot with his dad, that kind of thing."
"Anything physically violent?" Daniel asked.
"Nothing serious," the priest replied. "No trouble with the law, no major drug problems, just oppositional and hard to handle. He’s always been into the music scene, wanted to be a musician, big dreams but maybe not the talent or focus to back that up. Anyway, he got in with a new crowd recently, which is when his mother told me she started to see the changes in him. She thought it must be drugs at first, you know how it is. Long story short, his personality changed so much that she began to wonder about possession. I wouldn’t say she’s a true believer on that score, but like most of the people who come to me, she’s desperate enough to consider any possibility of help for her son.”
“Any idea how bad the possession might be?” Bree huddled down into her coat. It was chilly in the sanctuary.
Father Steuban grimaced. “Very bad, would be my guess, although of course I’ve got nothing like your abilities there, Bree. This one just felt bad in the room, if you know what I mean.”
“If it’s that obvious
, the boy may not come,” Daniel warned. “The worse the possession, the bigger and smarter the demon. The smarter ones know to avoid places of worship.”
“I know that well enough,” the priest admitted, “and I hope this isn’t a wasted trip for you two. And of course, if it’s a very big demon, I know you may not be able to do it. You and Dan, or do you prefer Daniel, or maybe Danny?" Father Steuban asked.
"Daniel, please," Daniel murmured in response.
"Anyway, you'll just have to meet the young man and let me know what you think. I should warn you, his mother isn’t telling him why he’s here. I had the sense we shouldn’t tip off this particular demon. He thinks he’s coming in to talk to me. I believe his mother plans to bribe him in some way. Something new for his drum kit, I believe,” he said with a smile. “In any case, let’s get things ready.”
Bree looked a question at Daniel, since he was primary. He'd told her he didn't use ritual objects in exorcisms, but she hadn't thought beyond that.
"Just go ahead and set up like you normally would," Daniel answered her look. You and Father Steuban should go with whatever makes each of you most comfortable."
He watched quietly as Bree and Father Steuban set up the space in front of the altar. Bree had her own crucifix, a tiny gold one of her grandmother’s that her parents had given her at her confirmation, and Father Steuban provided the salt, holy water and blessed wine. The priest opened an old bible on the altar and also added some wafers and wine left over from communion.
Bree got the sense that Daniel was, fortunately, respectful about their preparations. She didn’t have any clear sense of his religious beliefs, if any, and she was rather too used to being considered eccentric by her largely agnostic friends for her adherence to her Catholic faith.
Which was funny, as she considered herself not a particularly good Catholic. She didn’t attend mass all that regularly, and confession hardly ever. Nor did she buy every piece of Catholic doctrine. She often had doubts about whether she believed in God at all, let alone in Jesus, Mary and the Saints. But she still found some comfort in the battered faith she did have, and in the rhythms of the mass, and in prayer. And a connection to her faith was helpful during exorcisms. More than anything, it helped her into a mindset of calm and confidence to work with familiar symbols and words. Daniel had told her that all of his preparation was internal, which was unusual. After a few minutes of watching Bree and Father Steuban, he sat on the front pew with his eyes closed.
The preparations helped settle the nagging anxiety that had been nearly constant since she’d told Father Steuban on the phone yesterday that she would do this. She’d hoped she could permanently retire from exorcism work after Seth’s death, but she’d finally figured out that she had to be certain she could get rid of Gelsenim, or any other demons, on her own. She'd botched her last exorcism, having misjudged the strength of the demon, who had been using a new ability of demons to mask their power to some degree. Having Daniel take primary was a way to ease her back in.
She reminded herself that Daniel was a strong Demon Master, and so long as he was conscious and in control, and the demon wasn't at Gelsenim's level, they would all be safe. The thought failed calm her nerves as much as she'd like. It was risky for Daniel to use the Demon Master talent, even in front of a normal. He couldn’t afford to have it known that he had one of the forbidden talents. He'd have to mask it somehow in the ritual if it came to that. Then there was the worry that the demon contact during the exorcism would be bad for him, would add to that dark energy. He seemed confident that it wasn't a big risk, but Bree wasn't entirely sure he wasn't being too arrogant about that. Still, he hadn't been showing any signs of demon burn in recent months, no irritability, no increase in aggression, no emotional instability. He'd been the picture of calm control during their recent experiments with Bree's new abilities.
They had just finished up when the front door to the church opened. The two people who entered had to be the subject and his mother. It would have been kind to call the mother overweight. As she led the way down the aisle between the pews, unzipping her raincoat, her belly and thighs jiggled alarmingly. She had long, straight brown hair parted down the middle, wide set blue eyes, and beautiful skin, flushed a little with the slight chill outside or with distress.
Her son followed after her, and the only resemblance was in the eyes. He was slender, blond and scowling, dressed in a vintage army coat and baggy jeans. He sported a goatee that failed to make him look older. He still suffered from the remnants of teen acne, with a few pimples visible on his forehead. Bree thought that if his expression were different, he’d be a fairly attractive young man. That, and the powerful reek of demon that was boiling off of him kept him from being appealing. It wasn’t a smell exactly, although as the exorcism advanced, there were usually plenty of bad smells. It was more of a sense of oppressive wrongness that came from the boy in waves.
With distaste, Bree opened her Demonsense even further, trying to get an initial sense of the class of demon they were dealing with here. It was a nausea inducing experience. Daniel walked over to her, and he shot her a questioning look. She nodded acknowledgement. It was midrange in strength, but nothing she felt unable to deal with as second. And even if it was hiding its power signature, she'd heard enough from local Keepers to know that even with that ability, demons could only appear a class or two lower than they really were. And she could handle that.
“Father Steuban, you remember Geoff,” the mother said all in a rush.
“Certainly, certainly,” Father Steuban replied at his most reassuringly genial. He shook the mother’s hand, but did not try to shake Geoff’s. “I’ve invited Bree and Daniel here along for my little talk with Geoff. They're a lot closer than I am to remembering what it’s like to be Geoff’s age and I thought they could provide a little perspective. And now, Mrs. Wilson, I think you’d best leave Geoff to us. I have your cell number, I’ll give you a ring when we’re done with our talk.”
“I could just wait out in the parking lot,” the woman said with a nervous glance at her son, who was looking at the floor.
“Oh, it’s cold for that, don’t you think?” Father Steuban replied smoothly. “Why don’t you just go wait down the street at the Starbucks where you’ll be more comfortable.”
Bree was relieved when woman agreed and moved back down the aisle toward the door. Father Steuban went with her, then pulled a large ring of keys out of his pocket and locked the church door after her. She and Daniel quietly removed their coats and dropped them onto the pew as all this was happening, and moved to their places at the front of the sanctuary.
Geoff, was darting nervous little glances at her and Daniel, and around the sanctuary. His hands were still in his coat pockets. They all waited in awkward silence until the priest joined them again.
Geoff immediately launched into rapid speech. “Look, Father, my Mom is totally over reacting. She just didn’t want me to move out. I told her I’d take a drug test, so I don’t know what her problem is. She just thinks all musicians are drug addicts, and it’s totally an over generalization. This is all some kind of empty nest thing. I’m the last one to leave.”
As Geoff spoke, Father Steuban walked slowly forward until he was next to the boy. He gently grasped Geoff's elbow and escorted him into the middle of the ritual space he and Bree had prepared. The priest turned to face him and said, “Of course mothers worry, and you are the youngest, as you said. That may well be part of it. But frankly, son, your mother has described some changes in you that are concerning.”
“And I’m guessing you’ve wondered about those changes as well,” Daniel said, taking a step closer to the boy. “I believe you when you say you’re not using drugs. But I bet you’ve felt like you were on something a lot of the time lately. Colors seem brighter. Food tastes different, better.”
His voice was even and calm, but Bree could feel power gathering around Daniel as he prepared to spring the wards, and she would be surprised
if the demon couldn’t begin to sense it even if the boy couldn’t.
Father Steuban slowly backed away as Daniel went on. “You’re probably feeling restless a lot of the time, and it’s hard to sleep. You’ve wondered what’s wrong with you, but you’ve been enjoying it too.”
Geoff was looking worried now. His shoulders hunched as he snapped, “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“I know it’s uncomfortable to hear. I know there’s a part of you that’s in denial about all this. But there’s a part of you that knows it’s true. The old Geoff knows it’s true. You’ve changed, and something’s not right.”
A look of frightened vulnerability came over the boy’s face, and for a moment, Bree thought there was still enough of him in control that they’d have some cooperation in the exorcism. But that hope faded as a sneer twisted Geoff’s features. “Look, I don’t have to listen to this. You’re not my shrink, and I don’t need your help!” He spun around, and Bree’s stomach tightened as she waited for Daniel to activate the wards that would keep the boy in. Instead, Daniel said quickly, “You can’t play music anymore. You can’t even stand to hear music.”
Geoff jerked to a stop after only three steps, and Daniel advanced on him. “At first, the music didn’t sound right. Then you started to avoid it. You’ve probably dropped out of your band by now.” The boy whirled around to face Daniel, denial clearly on his lips, but Daniel’s dark eyes bored into Geoff’s blue ones, and Geoff didn’t speak.
The ritual space was fairly groaning with unreleased power by now. Bree felt it as a pressure all along her skin. She still had her Demonsense fully open, and the combination was intense. Daniel was taking a risk by delaying the warding. He was clearly trying to reach the part of Geoff that might help them in the fight before enraging the demon by trapping it, and referencing the music issue was an inspired move. For some unknown reason, demons didn’t like music.
