Sins of the Fathers

by John Richmond

THE DEMON EXPLODED with a pyroclast of obscenities as it jerked at the restraints. It split the room with the howls of dying animals and screams that would eclipse a Visigoth war cry. It thrashed like a netted game fish, extremities a foam of motion and tangled bedding. Every so often it would cease and focus on Calvin, eyes gleaming like illuminated sapphires. Calvin would steel himself for the telekinetic hit, but when none came the demon would once again launch itself into a blizzard of hysterical strength and struggle.

  After nearly fifteen minutes, it slumped back against the pillow, panting. “What have you done, Templar, fucking faggot, cocksucker, goat fucker? What have you done?”

  For a moment, Calvin was sure it would recommence the panicked spasms, but it finally seemed to have exhausted the body’s reserves. “I gave you want you wanted.”

  The boy looked around the room with wide, feverish eyes, as if searching for help from an absent party. “We don’t understand.”

  “Bet you haven’t said that in a long time, huh?”

  It glared, a low growl swelled its throat.

  “I’ve bound you,” Calvin explained. “You’re a part of Jeremy now.” He interlaced his fingers. “Locked in, so to speak.”

  “Lies,” it hissed.

  “You’d know about that wouldn’t you? ‘Course, all you have to do is read my mind to know whether or not I’m telling the truth, right?” Mock realization dawned across his features. “Oh wait, you can’t read my mind anymore, can you? Can’t do any of your nasty little magic tricks. You’re stuck all the way inside that kid now. If Jeremy can’t do it, neither can you. That must be tough for you,” Calvin mused. “Like having one of your senses cut off or something.”

  “Release us, Templar.”

  “Or what? No really, I’m interested.”

  “Unimaginable—“

  “Give it a rest,” Calvin said and walked over to the bed. He grabbed the boy’s wrist and counted off the pulse. Steady. Jesus, kids were incredible. Made out of Kevlar or something. Calvin just hoped Jeremy’s mind would be as resilient as his body.

  “Remove your filthy hands from our meat.”

  Calvin stared at the boy, attempting to see past the rage and indignation of the invader to the frightened child within. He sighed. “I’m sorry as hell about this next part, kid,” he said and struck the boy’s face with a back handed slap that resounded like a whip crack. The demon’s eyes squinted shut with the blow then peeled open slow and huge.

  “That’s a new one, huh?” Calvin asked. “Never felt physical pain before, have you?”

  A single tear slid from Jeremy’s left eye. “There will be no more warnings, Templar.”

  Calvin slapped the boy again, opening a couple of old scratches. They began to seep as the handprint below blushed in. The demon loosed a jarring roar. Calvin struck Jeremy’s forehead with the heel of his hand, driving the boy’s head back into the pillow like an abusive older brother. It had the desired effect.

  “We’ll have no more of that,” Calvin said.

  “Stop, Templar. Stop, priest. On your life, stop. We’ll spend eternity eating your soul and shitting you out.”

  Calvin leaned in, grabbing the demon’s eyes with his own. “You get out of the boy, and I’ll stop.” He snatched a lock of Jeremy’s fine hair. “Otherwise…,” Calvin yanked and the demon howled.

  “Kill the meat,” it panted. “We’ll kill the meat!”

  “Oh, I doubt that. Killing that kid will evict you. If it comes down to it, I’ll kill Jeremy myself to get him away from you.”

  “Never would.” It shook its head back and forth. “You never would.”

  Calvin pulled a single razor blade from the cuff of his jacket and held it up so the light could run the steel. “I’ll make sure it hurts.”

  The boy’s eyes followed the razor as Calvin moved it back and forth. “Help! Help me! He’s gonna’ cut me!” the demon shouted in Jeremy’s voice. “Dad, daddy!” The boy’s eyes narrowed and he screamed, “Nurse Grouwe, help me please!”

  Calvin slipped the razor back into his sleeve and tipped a wink at the boy. “Thanks,” he said, just as the door banged open and Emma Grouwe barged into the room in a pink house coat, her hair lose and flowing.

  “What’s going on? Here now, what are you doing?”

  Jeremy strained against his bonds. “He’s got a razor blade. Said he was gonna’ hurt me.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “Everything all right, Father?”

  “Yeah,” Calvin gave her a tired smile. “He told me that Mr. Horton was going to bite him a little while ago.” He shook his head back and forth.

  “Poor dear,” Emma said. “He’s just so…” She looked at the boy. “You’ll feel better soon, sweetheart.”

  “Cut me!” Jeremy screeched. “He said he would hurt me!”

  Emma turned to Calvin. “Well, I’m up now. Need anything?”

  “Surprised you can sleep through any of this with all the yelling.”

  Emma’s lip twisted up at the corner. Calvin figured it might be the closest expression to a smile the woman knew. “When you’ve worked in residence as psychiatric facilities for as long as I have, you learn to sleep through just about everything.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “Yep.” She sighed and glanced at Jeremy.

  “Pig cunt.”

  Emma blew him a kiss. “Well, last call. Get you anything, Father?”

  “Actually, if you’re going to the kitchen, I’d love a glass of milk.”

  Emma nodded. “Sure thing.”

  As she turned, the smile melted off Calvin’s face. He rose on silent feet and reflexively calculated the distance to Emma’s skull and the force required. He made a fist with the knuckles of the first and second fingers protruding, then pistoned into the back of Emma Grouwe’s head. She exhaled a surprised, “Buh!” and crumpled. Calvin bent and checked her pulse, glad that he wouldn’t be around when she woke up. She wouldn’t remember what had happened, but he didn’t dig the prospect of spending time around a hard ass like Emma Grouwe as she nursed what would probably be the worst headache of her life. Calvin stepped over her and into the hall.

  Emma’s room was the first on the right. He pushed through the door and found the object of his search right away. A large black medical bag sat gleaming on the night stand. Calvin cracked it open and rifled the contents. There were enough thorazine and first aid supplies to last for at least a week, although he didn’t plan on doping the boy much. Just enough to shut him up for the next few hours.

  A minute later, the demon recoiled against the headboard as a priest with a huge grin advanced across the room, a dripping syringe in his hand. A moment later, Calvin stood up and watched Jeremy blur as he slid under the influence of the drug.

  Calvin waggled his fingers. “’Night, sweet prince.”