by Sara DeHaven
Jeremy convulsed and howled, voice rising until it was a painful shriek. Father Anselm's voice rose along with the boy's, his prayers coming faster. He blinked at the sweat dribbling down into his eyes.
Bree felt a moment's triumph. This was going to be easy. Only a young demon would show itself so early in the process. And the faster the process went, the more likely her spells would hold.
"I see you, demon," she said, in a half-shout to override Jeremy's continual thin wail. "I see you and I command you. Leave this child. You have no place here." As she spoke, she sent her Demonsense questing, seeking to attune with this particular demon's energy. As she felt a connection click into place, Jeremy's shrieking cut off. He straightened up and looked Bree in the eye, a canny, weirdly adult look descending on his features.
"I'd like to tie you down and let a dog fuck you," the boy said.
Bree couldn't help flinching at his words. She was used to this kind of talk from demons, but it was far more disturbing coming from a child. She reminded herself that she had the upper hand here.
"So you're ready to show yourself. Ready to test my power. I assure you, you can't win."
Jeremy hissed like a cat, lips pulled back from his teeth.
"Such a small demon. Is that the best you can do?"
Jeremy lunged hard against Father Anselm's grip and got an arm free. He raked his nails down his own face, hard enough to draw blood. Bree's adrenalin surged. This was a risky part of the working. Some demons began damaging their host when they felt threatened. For some reason, they were more likely to do it when possessing children. That's why Father Anselm had taken the risk of being in the circle with the demon. He got a grip on Jeremy's wrist and forced the child's hand away from his face. Jeremy turned his head, quick as a snake, and sank his teeth into Father Anselm's hand. The priest uttered a small cry of protest as he instinctively tried to pull away. The boy bit down harder and worried at the priest's hand like a dog, coming away with a chunk of flesh.
Bree resisted the impulse to step forward and help in restraining the boy. Some demons could jump to another host on physical contact, and that was something she had to avoid at all costs. The demon would far prefer her to Father Anselm, given she was powered. Powered were like candy to demons.
Instead, she pushed harder with her Demonsense, forcing her base energy along that conduit, and attuned more closely with the demon's energy. She was feeling for the shape of it within the boy's consciousness so that she could snare it with her will energy. Father Anselm struggled to restrain Jeremy without getting too close to his teeth. Blood dripped down his wrist. The boy had dropped to the ground, trying to dislodge the priest's other hand by pulling against it with all his weight.
"I will kill you for this!" Jeremy shrieked as he dangled in Father Anselm's grip. "You cannot force me out! This is my food, mine!"
"Tell me your name," Bree demanded, squeezing against the demon's energy with her own. She had it surrounded now, she could feel all of it. It roiled in her grasp like oil, and smoke, and blood. She smothered a strong impulse to gag at the feel of it.
"I won't, you fucking cunt!" the child screamed. Father Anselm was down on the floor with him. He'd succeeded resuming his hold on Jeremy's upper arms, and had them pulled back behind the boy's body. The priest's distress at the whole process was plain to see on his face. Bree was glad the demon couldn't see it. He'd sense a weakness there and start in on the priest. Bree had to keep the demon's attention on herself.
"Holy Father, free this child from evil, I pray," Bree said breathlessly. Her abilities were stretched tight, holding the energy of the circle, keeping attunement with the demon, and focusing her will energy into her link with the demon. The demon fought her, but she almost had it. If she could just get its name, the link would be complete, and she could pull the demon out of the boy. She could do it without the name, but it would take more energy, and she was nearing her limit.
The realization came at her sideways. This demon was stronger than she thought, much stronger. She'd only ever misjudged the strength of a demon during that last exorcism. And she was rusty, she could feel it. Her will energy was sluggish to respond, and it took more effort than it should to get it to engage through the channel of her Demonsense.
"Your name!" she ground out, pressing with all her might against the demon.
Jeremy stilled, and the orange light of the demon filled his eyes. His gaze caught Bree's, and the boy smiled. That smile sent a shaft of dread through Bree, and her will energy faltered. "I will burn him if you do not release me," Jeremy said, with that teeth grating harmonic to his voice the possessed got when the demon was fully in control and no longer hiding.
Bree felt like the floor tilted under her. The demon could do it. Demons rarely burned their hosts because it hurt the demon to do it. And they could only do it on exiting the host, something they obviously didn't want to do. It was usually a hollow threat.
"I will not allow it," Bree said, trying to force conviction into her voice.
Jeremy's eyes narrowed. Dear God, the demon sensed her weakness. She tried again to press with her will energy, to establish dominance, but the energy didn't respond.
"You fear my fire," Jeremy whispered. He closed his eyes, and Bree felt the demonic energy surge with heat. And she panicked, she couldn't help it. She tried to force the demon out, even though she didn't have a full grip on it, even though her attunement was failing. She felt a spear of searing heat between her eyes as the demon lashed out at her through the link she'd established with her Demonsense. The structure of the surrounding spells shuddered. The boy's face reddened, and sweat burst out of him.
"I will burn him. His skin will crack and melt, and he will die in agony."
Bree's body froze, and her mind hurtled backwards, like a roller coaster in reverse, dipping and swerving, leaving her dizzy and disoriented. Fire. Fire filled her sight, and Seth in the middle of it, burning. The demon howled its defiance. The subject, a teenaged girl, writhed on the floor in agony, screaming until blood vessels in her eyes burst, filling the whites with a red haze. Bree wailed, “Seth, God no, Seth!” The demon’s stench was everywhere, throbbing with nauseating power.
Bree desperately reached for the ritual energy Seth had raised for the exorcism, cast forth her Demonsense to attune with the demon, but it was too late, too late for Seth. He collapsed before her eyes, blackened and crackling as he hit the floor, his face a mass of melted flesh, hair and beard burned away.
The blast of the shofar sounding pulled her out of the flashback. Bree was on her knees, and Valerie was standing before her. "I command you, depart!" Valerie shouted. With what was left of her tattered senses, Bree felt the demon sucked away into an opening that had appeared in the air. With an almost audible snap, the opening closed. Valerie gestured with her hands, and the wards and exorcism spells surrounding them dispersed.
"It's finished," Valerie said breathlessly over her shoulder. At first, Bree thought Valerie was talking to her, but then she heard the slap of shoes against stone floor as Carla ran down the aisle. Valerie moved to one side, and Bree could see Jeremy. He was lying on the floor, Father Anselm kneeling over him. One side of the boy's face was badly burned. Bree had to press a hand to her mouth to keep from throwing up. She had caused this. Her failure had caused this.
Carla brushed passed her and knelt on the other side of Jeremy. "Oh my God, Jeremy, honey!" Bree could no longer see the boy, but she heard him begin to cry. "It hurts!" he whimpered.
"Don't touch it, baby, it'll only hurt worse," Carla said tearfully.
"You must take him to the emergency room immediately," Father Anselm said, one hand clutching the wound on his wrist.
"What on earth will I tell them?"
"Tell them he overturned a pan of boiling water on the stove."
"They'll never believe me. They'll think I did it. Oh God, what's happening now?" Jeremy had gone limp, and his whole body shuddered.
Valerie replied. "I know it looks like
a seizure, but it's just an after reaction to the possession. It won't hurt him. In fact, he'll probably pass out when it stops, and that would be a blessing."
"I almost can't believe it really happened," Carla said, reaching down to gather up Jeremy in her arms. "But what else could explain his face burning for no reason like that?"
"I'm so very sorry that happened. It's rare, but it is a risk," Valerie answered. Her voice was weary, her innate perkiness wrung out of her.
Bree knew she should be the one apologizing. She opened her mouth to say so, but nothing came out. Her brain didn't seem to be working. She felt like her head was packed tight in a box full of cotton balls.
"Remember that it was very likely the demon would have killed him if we hadn't forced it out," Father Anselm said, though his voice lacked conviction.
"I know, I know," Carla replied, working her arms under the boy's body. She leaned back on her heels and tried to get to her feet with Jeremy in her arms, but she couldn't manage it. Father Anselm stood up and got an arm around her, helping her up. "I can take him out to the car for you," he offered.
"No, I want to hold him," Carla said softly. She turned to face Valerie and said, "Thank you so much for what you did. I can see this was dangerous for both you and Bree. Thank you as well, Bree. I hope you're okay?"
Bree could only nod. She couldn't bear to meet Carla's eyes, to see the ridiculous kindness that would forgive her for this. Carla turned and left, and Father Anselm followed close behind.
Valerie squatted down in front of Bree once the others had gone. "What happened there?" she asked. It was clear she was trying to sound neutral, but a tone of accusation tinged her voice.
Bree licked her dry lips and forced herself to respond. "I had a flashback. My husband was burned to death by a demon. I really thought the flashbacks were over. I hadn't had one for six months."
"You look really drained. I should probably drive you home."
Bree shook her head. "I'll be okay in a minute." She maneuvered herself until she was sitting cross-legged on the cold floor. "Just let me rest here for a bit."
Valerie nodded and began cleaning up both hers and Bree's supplies. Miraculously, Bree's bottles of salt and holy water had survived intact. Valerie set them in front of her, along with Bree's bible. She disappeared up the aisle, then came back with both their coats, her messenger bag and Bree's black daypack. After she had packed both their supplies away, she squatted down in front of Bree again. "You're sure you're okay to drive home?"
"I'm sure."
Valerie stood up. "You know, maybe you shouldn't do exorcisms yet. Maybe you should, like, go to a therapist, get some help with those flashbacks. I know a powered therapist who works with this stuff."
Bree was too tired and demoralized to explain that she had already done all that. She just wanted Valerie gone. She couldn't stand to face her a moment longer. She had put all their lives at risk with her failure, and the guilt was choking her. She nodded, and managed to say, "It's okay, I've already got a therapist. You were great. I'm lucky I had you as second today."
Valerie's face lit up with a sweet smile. "Thank you! You take care now."
"You too."
Valerie left her sitting there, sitting alone with her failure, the image of Jeremy's burned face seared into her memory, to join the parade of ugly images from past exorcisms. Except this one was her fault. It was entirely and completely her fault.
The hell of it was, that wouldn't stop the pressure on her to do it again. Accidents like this were a part of doing exorcisms, and there were never enough Exorcists to keep the tide of demons at bay. She would have to do this all over again.
And it would be even more dangerous if what she'd experienced with this particular demon was true. Misjudging the strength of a demon was incredibly dangerous, for the exorcist as well as the subject, and she was pretty sure it had happened twice now. Today, with Jeremy, and during that last exorcism with Seth. He'd been primary, but she'd assessed that demon herself as secondary, and hadn't thought it at all capable of breaking away from Seth's power.
Bree did not like where her thoughts were leading her. If demons were somehow developing an ability to mask how strong they were, more possessed would be hurt or killed, and more exorcists would die. Getting back in the game was going to be even more deadly than she'd feared.
Chapter 2
Bree was engaged in the homely task of chopping potatoes for soup on a rainy October afternoon, almost two weeks after Jeremy's exorcism, when she felt a chill breeze across her back. She glanced at the back door. Damn, she'd failed to check that the doorknob had caught after she took out the compost. She was annoyed with herself. This was not new, as she'd been annoyed with herself pretty much continually since the exorcism.
She walked over to the back door, opened it, and stepped out onto the small wooden stoop. There was a roof over it, but the wind was coming from the west, and it blew rain into her face. She welcomed it, closing her eyes, feeling the scatter of drops pattering against her skin like random, miniature torpedoes of water. She stood like that for some time, long enough to get cold. She wanted the cold, anything to distract her from her irritability.
She was pulled out of her grim reverie by the sensation of a cat brushing against her leg as it dashed inside. Bree opened her eyes and turned to see not just one, but two cats lurking in the doorway between the kitchen and the small dining area beyond, a calico and a young black cat.
“Oh, come on!” Bree cried in frustration. This was all she needed, another round of home invasion cats to wrangle. She stalked inside, and the cats ran for it, deeper into the house, toward her living room. “I am in no mood,” she growled as she grabbed for the black cat. It was too fast, and made it under the couch. The calico, an old hand at the game, had already retreated up the stairs towards her bedroom.
Bree was on her knees, reaching under the couch for the black one, when the doorbell rang. She sat up, one hand pushing her long brown hair back, and closed her eyes, reaching for patience. The doorbell sounded again, and she got to her feet and went to the door. She checked through the peephole, and there stood Dion Evans, in all his glory. “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” she muttered. She briefly considered pretending she wasn’t home, but he’d probably heard her coming to the door, so, reluctantly, she opened it.
“Bree baby, what’s goin’ on?” He greeted her with a dimpled smile, brilliantly white in his dark face. The smile faded quickly as he took in her strained expression. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
Something in his sympathetic gaze triggered the threat of self-pitying tears. "Not really. I'm just in a bit of a mood." She took a breath and forced down the tears. “Come on in.” She backed away to make room for him. He stepped around the black cat, which had followed her to the door. She took a stab at herding it outside with her foot, but the annoying little fur ball dodged her nimbly. She gave up and shut the door.
“So what’s making it a bad day?” Dion asked as he hung up his coat on a hook by the door and led the way into the living room.
Bree's mood veered back toward annoyance. It was Dion who'd talked her into doing that last exorcism in the first place. "I haven't been doing that great since, you know."
"The exorcism?" Dion returned, unfazed "You can say the word. It won't contaminate you."
Bree dropped down into her Grandma Zelda’s pink damask chair. "Easy for you to say."
Dion settled down on his accustomed place on one end of her couch, gorgeously arrayed as usual, in a crisply ironed white shirt and soft, shimmery brown wool pants. He was tall, sweet, smooth, and likely to sneak up on you. "I did talk to Valerie, but I'd like to hear about it from you."
Bree didn't really want to talk to him about what had happened, but on the other hand, it might keep him off her back, at least for a little while. “When the demon threatened to burn the boy, it freaked me out and triggered a flashback. I lost control, and the demon burned him. Valerie took over and finished the
exorcism for me."
"That's why exorcists have seconds. It can happen."
"Tell that to the poor kid. He's going to have to live with that scar on his face for the rest of his life."
"Actually, the little guy is doing well. The plastic surgeon is fairly optimistic that the scarring can be minimized."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
“Yes, it is,” Dion replied with a direct look that made her squirm. The black cat jumped up onto his lap, and he petted it absently.
“Well, if you're here to pressure me again with how much I’m needed, you might as well turn back around and leave.”
“I didn’t come here to ask you to do an exorcism,” Dion began.
“But?” Bree prompted suspiciously.
“But,” Dion continued evenly, “I don’t think it’s doing you a lot of good to avoid power work altogether.”
Bree crossed her arms defensively across her chest and looked away. As if that would protect her.
“C’mon, you know it’s true. I get that you don’t feel up to another exorcism yet, though, yes, you are needed. Possessions are still going up, and I can admit to hoping that at some point, you’ll be ready to give it a go again. You were always very good at it.”
“Obviously not good enough,” Bree answered tightly.
“In any case, that’s not what I’m talking about right now. I’m talking about you shutting down your power. It’s draining you, can’t you see that?”
Conflicting feelings rose up in Bree. She did miss power work, at least some parts of it. And she was fed up with avoiding it. But admitting that opened her up to a world of pressure, and not just from Dion. He was a friend, and it was bad enough having to deal with his guilt tripping. Dealing with almost anyone else on the powered City Council was definitely worse.
The calico had crept back into the room. It left off sniffing Dion’s shoes and jumped up onto her lap, purring for all it was worth. Bree almost liked this particular cat, and she tentatively rubbed it behind the ears.
