“No, Asta isn’t here because she got pissed at me and went off to find a priest. We can’t sense the genie anywhere, and she’s convinced the demon is possessing Phelps.”
If Wyatt’s eyes got any bigger, his eyeballs were going to roll right out of his head. “Why would a demon want to possess a human? He’d only have a fraction of his powers.”
Dar made an approving noise. “My thoughts exactly. Asta thinks he’s doing it to hide from her and buy himself time for whatever evil he’s planning.”
Yep, those baby-blue eyes were in danger of hitting the floor. “The software. If the genie is possessing Phelps, then he’ll just need to let loose a virus, and he’ll have control of every major corporation and government in the world.”
“Yeah, for all of ten seconds until some other computer genius cuts him off or goes to backup or something.”
“No, ten seconds is all it takes. He can crash the ones he doesn’t want, burrowing worms deep inside their systems that will take months to eradicate. Did your mage find out what kind of demon was in the bottle?”
“Warmonger.” Dar snorted. “Some dude named Rubeus. I don’t know him, but I was pretty young when he got summoned. He’s old and evidently powerful enough to make Kirby nearly wet his pants.”
“Warmonger.” Wyatt began pacing again. “I give him less than twenty-four hours and he’ll act. Crash that many systems and he’ll destabilize the global market. This demon will have a perfect playing field to sow the seeds of war — currency devaluation, scarcity of resources, possibly even missile launches.”
Either Phelps was a bad, bad man, far more devious then any of them had thought, or Asta was right. With a demon riding him, Phelps would have no choice but to go along with whatever Rubeus wanted. Dar thought of the angel off looking for a priest willing to perform an exorcism and cursed. This would be so simple if she’d just kill Phelps.
“You want me to what?”
Asta clenched her fists in exasperation. This was beyond frustrating. She’d exhausted the entire Archdiocese of Chicago without success. It was hard to believe that with nearly four-hundred parishes, none of the priests knew how or were willing to exorcise a demon. This guy was her last resort before branching into Milwaukee and south to Indiana. The next step after that was the Internet, and who knows what kind of quacks she’d have to wade through before finding a legitimate exorcist there.
And who knows how much damage Rubeus would do while she raced around looking for one.
“There’s a demon who is possessing someone. I need him yanked out without hurting the human.”
Father Donell nodded sympathetically. “Have you taken this person to a psychiatrist for evaluation? I’d be happy to administer spiritual counseling, but in these cases, I’d highly recommend seeking the aid of a medical professional first.”
This priest would be sending her for a psychiatric evaluation after this conversation, but Asta had no time to tiptoe around the situation. “It’s a real demon. He was summoned from Hel hundreds of years ago and trapped in a bottle — so he’s really grumpy right now. A human with extremely poor judgment activated the contract, and after granting three wishes, the demon was freed and possessed him.”
The man’s left eyebrow twitched, and he looked longingly at the exit. “How unfortunate for the poor man. I still believe an evaluation and possibly some anti-psychotic medication would be helpful.”
“It’s a possession, not a mental health problem. I thought you all did this sort of thing? Do priests no longer believe in angels or demons?”
Father Donell huffed indignantly. “Of course we do, but today we need to take a careful approach. We work with medical professionals to narrow down a diagnosis before we go racing in with a crucifix and a bible. I’d be negligent in my duty to my parishioners if I didn’t consider all possible causes to a problem.”
“I appreciate that, but we don’t have time. Plus we’d never get him to submit to a psychiatric evaluation. Can I just schedule an exorcism? Preferably within the next few hours?”
“No, you cannot ‘just schedule an exorcism’. We have guidelines to follow. It would be irresponsible of me, not to mention terribly unprofessional, to proceed without a doctor’s evaluation.”
Asta opened her mouth, only to snap it shut. Angels had rigid guidelines too, but a century among the humans had made her impatient with all this red tape. Sometimes you just need to act. But wasn’t that a slippery slope?
“Even then,” the priest continued, “we need to ensure the person isn’t cursed. A curse can often appear as a possession. An exorcism on a cursed individual at best won’t work, and, at worst, will cause irreparable damage to their mental stability.”
Enough of this wasting time. Asta stood back to allow herself adequate space to reveal her wings. Which she did, spreading them as far as she safely could in the office. Just in case that wasn’t enough, she dropped her hold on her physical form and shimmered, becoming an indistinct humanoid blur.
It was too much. Father Donell turned an alarming pasty color and clutched his chest. Asta dove for him, but the priest clearly misunderstood her intentions. With a garbled noise, he hit her in the face with a stapler and fell to the floor.
This wouldn’t do at all. She’d never live it down if the other angels found out she’d killed a priest. Hiding her wings and returning to her more familiar shape, she dropped down beside the man. She might not be all that good at enthralling, but at least she could heal. Slapping her hands onto his chest, she poured the dark gold energy into him, soothing his heart into a normal rhythm.
The door opened. Asta saw a pair of black loafers and heard a gasp.
“Call an ambulance. He’s had a heart attack.”
The loafers rushed off, and she went ahead and searched through his body, rebuilding damaged blood vessels, removing a few gallstones, and taking care of that ominous shadow around his prostate. She’d nearly killed the guy; this was the least she could do.
By the time the medics wheeled Father Donell from the office, Asta was getting desperate.
“Do any of you know an exorcist?”
Both the paramedics and the man with the loafers looked at her as if she’d gone insane.
“Have you tried the Internet?” The two ambulance guys laughed at their own joke.
“I’m sorry,” Loafers said. “I don’t know of an exorcist, but I can recommend another priest to hear your confession.”
Confession? Oh that would go over well. Forgive me Father; in the last century I have stolen shoes and clothing, rigged the lottery, consumed forbidden food and beverage, and risked human detection by flying in the city. Oh, and last night I enjoyed carnal relations with a demon. She’d already sent one priest to the hospital. This wasn’t something she wanted to become a habit.
Still, she took the scrap of paper Loafers held out to her and watched as they loaded Father Donell into the ambulance. Maybe this parish should win some money. Did Catholic priests play scratch-offs?
The ambulance drove off. Loafers went back inside. Asta looked down at the paper. Father Athmor. She could visit him or start Googling. Asta looked up at the sun, calculating the time to sunset. If she was quick, she might be able to catch this priest before the convention closed for the evening. And if that didn’t work out, she’d have a long evening in front of a computer.
Father Athmor looked like a particularly stern Bloodhound with a crucifix permanently attached to his right hand. His baldhead reflected the light as he bent over the worn book before him.
“So, what makes you think your friend is possessed?”
Asta sighed. Here comes the diagnosis stuff. “I . . . I just know. Carter released a demon named Rubeus from an artifact. If the demon isn’t stopped, the results will be devastating.”
“So your friend — no speaking previously unknown languages, inhuman strength, knowing things Carter would have no way of knowing?”
Where was he going with this? “Well, I’m sure th
e demon knows many languages, but I haven’t spoken to him. Nor have I tested his knowledge. And he wouldn’t have his demonic strength while possessing a human body.”
“That’s typical. Sometimes those traits don’t appear until during the exorcism. I’ll be able to tell right away if there’s a demon.”
“Good.” It was about time someone expressed confidence in their ability to handle this. She had been beginning to lose faith in the human race. “It sounds as if you’ve done this before?”
“I’ve ousted hundreds of them over the years. It’s never an easy process, but if it’s a demon, I can get him out of there.”
“How long will it take?”
The priest rubbed his thumb rhythmically over the raised pattern on the crucifix. “Time is in the hands of God. Sometimes the demon is uprooted at once, but not always. Occasionally they come back. Even if we oust the demon, you’ll need to continue to monitor Carter to ensure he doesn’t become possessed again.”
This was turning into a long-term project — one that would continue after she went back to Aaru. She’d need to make sure she killed Rubeus, otherwise he was going to be the bad penny that kept showing up again and again.
“I’ve got most of the supplies — holy water, oil, and salt — but there are a few things I’m going to need your help with,” the priest continued.
“Will you need a pig?” Asta wasn’t sure where she was going to get a pig in downtown Chicago, but if this priest needed one, she’d find a way.
“A pig?” The watery blue eyes met hers. “What would I need a pig for?”
“To put the demon in? I don’t know. Someone told me you needed a pig.” Dratted Dar and his stories. Now she looked like a total fool.
“No, I don’t need a pig.”
Asta shifted in her chair. This guy reminded her of the Revered Ancient One. How odd to feel insignificant when facing a man barely eighty years old. “He’s pretty old — Rebeus. I’ll give you a hand killing the demon once you get him out of the human.”
Father Athmor sat back, fingering the crucifix clenched in his hand. “My dear, even I cannot kill a demon. It would take a host of angels to do that.”
Probably not a whole host of angels, but Asta was a bit unsure of her ability to kill this particular demon. She might need to call in the boss. “Or the Ancient Revered One, Archangel Michael. He’s got a sword that takes care of the really powerful ones.”
The priest nodded approvingly. “Yes, but I don’t exactly have the archangels on speed-dial. I can exorcise this demon and banish him. Killing him will have to wait until the Parousia, when Christ comes again.”
Or until I get my hands on him. Not that Father Athmor needed to know that. It was fine if this man thought she was a human. After what happened at the last parish, she wasn’t about to go revealing her wings, or her true nature, to any other priest. Instead, she sat with her hands clasped in her lap, smiling as the man told her of rebellious angels, and the war that resulted in a third of the heavens being cast out. He got a few things wrong, but the tale was surprisingly accurate given that it had occurred before the humans had anything beyond the most basic of communication skills.
“The Ritual will cast out the demon in the case of possession but won’t address other types of demonic influence. I’m just letting you know that if the demon has infested the man’s dwelling, or is causing him ill health, as in a case of demonic oppression, then I won’t be able to help you.”
“Oh, it’s a possession. I’m completely sure it’s a possession.”
Darned if the man didn’t give her a patronizing look. Asta was tempted to unfurl her wings. Maybe after he was done with the exorcism, just to teach him a lesson in the folly of pride.
“Will you be able to bring the man to me, or is he confined to his home?”
The conference was ending today, but Asta was fairly certain where Rubeus could be found. “He continues to work, but he has a hotel room. We can perform the exorcism there.”
The priest’s grip on the crucifix tightened. “He’s out and about? Working? Isn’t he a danger to others and himself?”
“Yes. I can’t exactly lock him away without a court order, or without hurting the possessed human. Besides, we only just found out about it this morning. I figured finding a priest was the most important item on my to-do list.”
The man nodded and pulled a large spiral bound book from the desk, all while gripping his crucifix. “So when would you like to schedule this?”
“Now.”
His hand paused on the calendar, and those stern eyes pinned her to her chair. “Young lady, I understand your need to help your friend as soon as possible, but I have other commitments.”
She saw his ‘other commitments’ and nearly ground her teeth. Bowling, and all-you-can-eat shrimp night at MacGrubeys. Taking a calming breath, she centered herself and pulled every ounce of persuasive skill to the surface. “A young man’s life is at stake, Father. Many, many lives are at stake here. Can you possibly clear your schedule and come with me now?”
No compulsion, just a big dose of persuasion and the sweet innocence of an angel’s smile.
This convention was boring as fuck, but he needed to maintain appearances, keep up the mask of human CEO for just a while longer. Time was running out. Eventually that bitch of an angel would figure out he was no longer in the bottle and connect the dots. Hopefully by the time that happened, the world would be in chaos, and he’d have the power to set the humans at each other like starving dogs.
She’d almost caved this morning at the café. He could see her wavering, feel her affection for this human he was using as a vehicle. He needed that bottle — without it, she’d have no way of knowing.
“Thank you, Mr. Phelps.”
Some other human pumped his hand, beaming like he was gazing upon the next recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize. How ironic.
“Make sure you load the software tonight,” he replied. “Don’t spend another moment unprotected from those thieves.”
Except for one thief. He grinned, thrilled his plan was coming together. All those centuries had taught him much — patience, the benefit of using other’s skills, that there was no shame in hiding under a human’s skin if it furthered one’s goals. All for the greater good.
The booth model slipped a note into his hand, eyeing him seductively as she turned away. Yeah, he’d like to hit that, but it would have to wait. First things first. Glancing down, he unfolded the note.
Carter — I’m so sorry I betrayed you like that. I do trust you, and to prove it, I want to return the bottle. Your room at six? — Asta
Perfect. He’d get the bottle back, and if there was any trouble, he’d just kill the bitch.
Chapter 20
“Hi.” Asta smiled at the blond man and ran a hand down the non-existent wrinkles of her skin-tight lycra mini dress.
His eyes followed the motion, sparking with desire. If she hadn’t spent so much time with Carter in the last week, she wouldn’t have noticed the odd fire in his gaze, or that instead of making her feel guilty, his lust sent a shudder up her back.
He opened the door wide. She walked in, placing the steps of her stiletto-clad feet in a line to ensure her rear swayed as she passed by. He was completely silent as she sat her oversized bag carefully down on the table and turned to him.
“Bottle?”
He was obviously trying for a cool, imposing tone of voice, but the guttural rasp that came out betrayed him. Carter was already enamored of her, and after being with Dar, she knew what worked for a demon.
“Of course.” She smiled enigmatically, and saw the result it had on the lower portion of his torso. “And afterward, I’d like to apologize. Profusely.”
Yep. Demon or not, he was going to bust out of those pants in a moment.
A cruel smiled curled his lips, and a flash of green lit the blue of his eyes. “On your knees. That’s the only way I’ll accept such an apology.”
Sheesh, what
was it with demons and blow jobs. Dar had whined and begged for one all last night. A pang hit her chest as she realized she’d probably never get the chance to give him one.
She tried for a sultry look to hide the grimace of revulsion. “Then knees it is.”
He still held the door open, his pants tenting outward and his eyes stormy as he watched her reach into the bag and toss him the bottle. It was magically unbreakable, but instinct died hard, and he snatched it from the air with both hands, his expression shifting as he saw the clear glass in his hand.
“Somnus, daemon.”
She’d expected Father Athmor to subdue him in some religious-supernatural fashion, not whack him over the head with his huge brass crucifix. It certainly worked, though. Carter/Rubeus crashed to the ground, blood seeping from the wound at the back of his head.
She helped the elderly man drag Carter’s limp form to the bedroom. Asta tied him to the mattress as the priest blessed the room, the clothes, the carpet. When the possessed man came to, he hissed. Struggling against the sheets Asta had used to tie him to the bed, he glared at the array of candles and incense surrounding him.
“What the fuck is this?”
He knew. And he knew that she knew. The moment he’d seen the clear glass of the bottle, she’d seen the realization on his face.
“Exorcism. You’ve got one chance to get out of Carter’s body. I’ll escort you to the nearest gate to Hel and ensure you go home unharmed, but you need to leave him, and leave him without a scratch right now.”
Father Athmor gave her an odd look but continued to chant and wave the incense censers without pause. Rubeus, on the other hand, practically foamed at the mouth. “Seriously? You think some fucking priest is going to get me out of here? How did angels get so stupid? Give it up, bitch. The only way I’m leaving is if you kill my host, and I know you’re not going to do that. I saw the way you looked at Carter, the way your little heart went pitter-pat at his sob story about his childhood and his grandmother. I’m home free as long as I’m in here.”
Demons & Djinn: Nine Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Novels Featuring Demons, Djinn, and other Bad Boys of the Underworld Page 48
