Chapter 1
“Feck!”
My phone rang as I drove down the motorway; no way was I answering it, I already had six points on my licence for speeding and driving while on the phone. We had a tough week with an open portal, so I planned to pick up the lads for a bit of socializing. In the middle of a fecking playground, too. Luckily, it happened at night. Who knows what would have happened had there been children there at the time. They would’ve been sucked right in. With the big border we put around it, locals thought the council was doing it up. They must have been confused as hell when all they saw were priests coming and going. Better than having their children sucked into another realm for slavery, torture, or consumption. We never could tell what happened in which portal.
The phone rang again.
“Ah, bollocks.”
It must be urgent if someone is calling me that many times instead of leaving a message. I pulled over on the hard shoulder, praying I wouldn’t get caught, again.
‘Father Conor’ was displayed on the screen and I swiped. “I’m driving, you know I’m on the way. What the fuck do you want?”
“Father Jack. There’ll be no rest for us tonight. We have a case; a late stage possession.”
“Fuck, not a late stage. Oh, I fucking hate them. Right, I’ll turn around and get kitted up. Pick me up at home with the paddywagon and all the boyos. Oh, where are we going?”
“This is the part I didn’t want to tell you. It’s your hometown, in Tipperary.”
My heart skipped a beat, then hammered against my ribcage. I took a deep breath.
“Right so. I’ll see you in an hour.”
I’m glad I wasn’t driving when he said that, I probably would have crashed or at least skidded off the road. My stomach did somersaults, and my blood pressure went up above my ‘norm’, which was high as it is. Water built up in my mouth and I heaved. I took out a cigarette and smoked it down to the butt.
I hadn’t been home to my small town of Fethard since I joined the priesthood at the tender age of fifteen, and that was after years of mental torture from my sister. When my parents died, it was just her and me. She’d never been the same since her possession; she had an evil streak inside that surfaced every now and again. I could see it in her eyes, like a flame burning in the blackness of her pupils. I was convinced she caused my parents’ deaths; they both died of heart complications within a few months of each other. Or maybe it was the stress of seeing their only daughter ravaged by a demon.
I performed a U-turn, and soon enough I arrived home to collect the belongings I needed for an exorcism.
Chapter 2
I kept my kit under the bed away from prying eyes; it’s not something you want your cleaner to find. I laid all the items out on the bed. It was a ritual of mine.
“Holy Water, check. Old lucky bible, check. Rosary beads, check. Jesus on the cross, check. My purple stole, check. And salt, check.”
I checked my pocket just to be sure my secret weapon was there. I hated to admit it, but nearly all of the items are just for show, for the witnesses who want to believe in God protecting and saving them. The last one is the killer. These demons hate salt. It’s not a religious thing, it’s an ancient way of warding off evil demons, used long before Christianity, by the Celtic pagans, and used today by the Wiccan community. I opened my Bible and read all the names of those saved over the years. I was running out of room on the page, which was a good thing, I suppose. The next page contained those lost; lost to the demons that envy our realm. Those five names tortured my every being. Three died, the possession too much for the body. Two remained free, to roam… one in a position of power after squirming her way to the top and making other’s lives miserable. Running a country can take its toll on a possessed body. The eejits keep voting her in. The other, well, he’s on the run. A murderer by nature, some continue with the destruction. From my count, he took the lives of ten women, and he’s now in Europe, probably killing more. I’ll find him, one day.
I packed it all up, had another two cigarettes (I need to quit, or at least cut-down), and sat waiting at the bottom of my stairway for the paddywagon. Knowing Father pin-dick Conor, I didn’t need to keep watch as he blasted the obnoxious horn as he drove down my street. The tune went on until it pulled up outside. I keep meaning to change it, but it’s always a good talking point for the social nights. For the serious cases, it’s a no-no.
“All right, boyos. What’s the craic? Only five of us? Where are the rest?”
“Busy, or not in the country,” answered Father Conor.
I hopped into the back and slid the door shut. The windows, covered by propaganda on the outside, blocked the sunlight and darkened the inside of the mini-bus, so we had nothing to worry about, nobody could see us. I felt the worn, brown leather seats crack under the pressure of my pouncing, and I gently shifted to ensure I didn’t rip it.
The group of priests didn’t look their usual selves, a little saddened. Maybe because their night out had been ruined, or they feared a late stage possession, or maybe Father dickwad Conor opened his mouth that it was my hometown, and probably told them about my sister. If it was any of these, then I didn’t want to hear or talk about it.
“Will you drive, Father Conor? I have a little surprise for everyone.”
I took a bottle of Jameson Whiskey out of me bag and four plastic cups. Not forgetting the cola for the pussies who couldn’t handle it straight. They cheered in unison in the back and held out their hands for a cup-full. It didn’t take long for the bottle to be empty. At this stage, we weren’t far from our destination, and a few of the lads dozed a little. My heart pummelled in my chest as we entered County Tipperary, we had two towns and a village to pass before we’d reach my hometown. I needed a distraction. Smoking with me head out the window had sobered me up, so there was no chance of a nap. I decided to plan our approach and who would be doing what. I observed each of my war brothers.
Father Niall, in his forties, was a devout Catholic, even with the evidence of the other realms, he never gives up hope that God will save us all. I don’t judge people on their faith. Except for those damn Druids. Father Niall’s job was to read the Bible until the family left the room.
Father Dylan, probably the youngest priest in the country, joined the ranks a few weeks ago. I’m a little worried because he wouldn’t be prepared for the sights of a late stage possession. Feck, I wasn’t prepared. He was the bed holder. Yeah, holding the bed and the one possessed was a two-man job and needed strength. Father slaphead Conor was the other one.
Father Ronan, ah this guy, a little slow, but loyal. Our holy water-splasher, until the family left. Then, Father Niall and Ronan would help me with the real fight; with salt and pure will. Someone’s will can be stronger than their faith.
Lilac clouds spread across the horizon as the sun set behind a mountainous backdrop. My stomach knotted as we saw the signs to my town, the place that broke my heart. Thank fuck we didn’t have to go through it, we would have passed my old house on the main street. We ran the local shop, providing every sundry in the country. From fuel to toiletries. When a mysterious man entered our shop one day, dressed all in black, he slinked around the shop and bought some candy. That’s when Katherine, my sister, started acting strangely. She was just cranky at first, then it got worse, and started lashing out at all of us. She beat me up so many times; I thought my skin had turned purple. My parents called the local priest, who she spat at and kicked when he blessed her. He called the Vatican later that day to seek approval for an exorcism. There were a lot more deaths and evil bastards in them days as the priests didn’t realise what they were dealing with. We do now. Luckily, I don’t need approval. It’s my role to rid these demons from the face of the earth.
Demigods, well now, they are a whole different ballgame. I’ve never encountered one, just learnt about them through the scriptures hidden in the Vatican vault. I read about the demigods from other realms that were worshipped by people here. There are seven different realms, that we know of, where the demigods, demons, or ‘others’, opened portals at some stage on this earth and gained followers and passed down over the generations. One of them opened the portal to the ‘Otherworld’ with the Celtic demigods, which I’ve already mentioned. An Dagda and his clan lived here for centuries until they decided to return home to the Otherworld. Now they want to come back but are unable to, for now. Portals sometimes open once in a million years.
We believe the most significant portal was 350 million years ago, that brought some of the big lizards here… you know who I mean. Then we have others that opened in other parts of the world, some with blue men with multiple arms. Others were little bald men with pot bellies. Some were organic, like a plantman or from lava, like lavaman. I chuckled at the thought of some man, sitting at a desk, coming up with the idea of ‘lavaman’, unknown to him, he’s not wrong. Most of the demons trying to enter here have a glassy, ice interior.
The minivan jerked me out of my thoughts as we stopped outside the farmhouse. Father dickwad Conor was always heavy on the breaks. Acres of fields and barns, with a rusty red tractor, surrounded the house. The air was fresh but dense, and I heard cows in the distance. They sounded distressed; this must be a milking farm. A dishevelled woman opened the front door.
“Oh, thank God, you’re here. Come inside, please. Our son is getting worse. I think he’s going to die.”
She beckoned us into the hallway, with worn, brown, floral carpet which smelt of cat piss, and closed the door. A loud clunk echoed throughout the hall from the oversized, rusted lock on the door.
“What is your son’s name? And which room is he in? There’s no time to waste,” I asked, a little forcefully. I was still annoyed they let it get this bad.
I felt my heartstrings being tugged on as she fussed around with tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise what was going on. I thought it was schizophrenia. His name is Paul. He is in the last room on the right. Can I get you a cup of tea, Fathers?”
“No, thanks, Mrs Kelly. Why don’t you get some wet towels ready? And is anyone else in the house?”
“No one else here, Father. My husband, God rest his soul, died two years ago and Paul’s brother is away at college.” She scurried away to do as I asked.
“Towels?” Father Dylan’s eyebrows lifted.
“Ah, we just say that to keep them distracted and busy, while we do what we have to.” I slapped Father Dylan on the back. “You’ll get used to it.”
I led the group down the hall and took a deep breath as I clasped the lock and door handle. You’d think this gets easier the more you do it. It doesn’t. I would rather deal with a hundred portals than one possession. I turned the key until I heard the click, and the hinges creaked as the sturdy, old door pushed against the carpet fibres on the floor. I smelt it first, it walloped me right in the face. The smell of disease, infection, piss, shit, vomit, all rolled into one. I’m glad I didn’t have any food in my stomach, but it didn’t stop me retching. I held my sleeve over my nose and mouth. A couple of the guys behind me started coughing.
“It’s only this bad when we’re up shit creek.”
I pushed the door open a little more and peeked in. The bed, ruffled and covered in stains, was empty. Fuck, where is he?
Chapter 3
I couldn’t see into the corners; the one lamp didn’t brighten the room enough. Shadows stretched over the furniture and up towards the ceiling. I heard heavy breathing, with a steady wheeze, like a harmonica.
“Paul? Where are you, boy?”
I heard a growl, and out of the top corner beside the wardrobe, small yellow hands with black fingers reached out, and he ran at me. I saw him now in the light. His eyes were red around their rims, and cuts with yellow pus and blood covered his mouth. Scabs covered the skin on his face and hands which looked like he had picked at his own skin and ripped pieces of flesh away. I’d hate to see under his pyjamas; blood spots seeped through from head to toe. Paul aimed for my neck; I grabbed his wrists and two others took hold of his arms. The dim light we had, gleamed on his eyes, and I saw the shade of red; it burned his soul. I saw those very same eyes in my sister, weeks before she had to be strapped to the bed. Why didn’t I tell someone? The separation would have been so much easier. Everything could have been so much easier.
“Father Dylan, take everything off the bed. Sheets. Covers. Everything. We just need the mattress. Now!”
He ran over and did what I said. I bet he wished he hadn’t because his hands and clothing were covered in everything Paul had done in that bed for the last few days or maybe even weeks.
Paul struggled in our grasp, snapping his teeth at our fingers and hands while we fought to restrict his movement.
“Right, get him on the bed. Tie him up.” I glared at Father gobshite Conor to check he was ready with the leather straps. He fumbled trying to open them. “For fuck’s sake, Conor. Get your shit together!”
Paul’s body violently shook as we held his arms and legs. Father Niall got a foot to the face, I heard the cartilage crack and saw the blood flowing towards his lip.
Paul spoke with a voice that was low and rumbling, far too deep for his age.
“You’re all gonna die. You filthy bastards. God loving pricks. Remove your holy fucking hands from me.”
We pulled the bed two feet away from the wall, so we could walk around with the salt. Father dry-shite Conor tied Paul’s arms to the metal corner posts at each corner. I went close to his face and stared into the emptiness of the black soul trying to consume this boy. “Now, now. We didn’t just sail up the River Liffey in a banana boat. We’ve done this many times before. I know what you are, and what you are capable of,”
“Then you’ll know I am strong at this stage, and will not give up without a fight. Now you have me tied up, am I young enough for you priests to fuck. Do you wanna put your dick up my ass and pound away? I can be your altar boy. What is your name, priest?”
We ignored him. Getting personal or arguing is the last thing you wanna do with these fuckers.
The priests didn’t tie my sister down that awful day. It gave them hell. Killed one of them. Took hold of the old bastard’s head and squashed it like a watermelon. I heard the crunch as the skull cracked and the brain spurted out. His eyeballs popped out of their sockets and swung like pendulums. It didn’t take them long to securely tie her up.
“Right, everyone, let’s get the show on the road. Father Dylan and Conor are the bed holders. Father Ronan, water-splasher. Father Niall, you’re on bible duty. “
The demon laughed. “You know that shit doesn’t work on me.” He snorted to the back of his throat and spat at Father Dylan; green snot landed on his cheek and he wiped it off with disgust.
“Ewww.”
I coughed out an inappropriate laugh, that was the least that would disgust him before the night was over.
Mrs. Kelly came into the room carrying four damp towels.
“Are ye sure you don’t want anything, Fathers. A strong cup of tea?” She spotted Paul on the bed and her stare followed each priest around the room doing their jobs. “Oh, Lord Jesus Christ Almighty. Oh, my poor boy.” She blessed herself, and kissed the rosary hanging from her neck.
“Thanks for the towels, and no, we don’t want tea. We just need you to stay out of the room, and leave us to do our job. No matter what you hear, no matter if Paul calls for your help. It’s not Paul, it’s a demon. You’re not to believe anything he says. Do you understand? I cannot go any further unless I know for sure you’re not going to interrupt what we have to do.”
“Cross me heart and hope to die, I will not enter this room until you say so.”
“Good. Go now,” I said, as I ushered her out the door.
I threw a towel at Father Dylan to let him wipe himself down before we got stuck into it.
When I removed the huge container of salt from my bag, the demon howled out loud, the piercing sound affected our eardrums. We knew what we were doing, and we meant business.
I scooped half the salt into another container for Father Niall.
“Here you go.”
We made a circle of the salt around the bed much to the distaste of the demon. He bounced on the bed trying to free himself.
“I’ll get you, you fuckers.”
Sometimes it’s not the demon you need to be aware of. It can be any item in the room, or your own sanity. The wardrobe door flew open and banged against the wall. I thought Father Ronan shat himself. I ran over to make sure there was nothing heavy in it.
“It’s all right, boyos. Mostly clothes, and underwear. Just watch out for the…” I received a slap on the head, “…books.”
A few flew at the others, but they were just paperback. Moby Dick fell on the bed and I picked it up, the irony that this book fell out in front of me. These demons have been my Moby Dick my whole life. One of them took my sister away from me. A constant battle with my conscience. A chair, sitting in the corner of the room, scraped across the floor. It rattled like it tried to lift from the floor, but couldn’t quite make it.
At this stage, some small items and a chair were about as much as they could handle. When they have full possession is when I’m scared, they could collapse the house in on top of us. I’m just glad this boy was strong enough to keep it at bay for a little while longer. Smoke came from the salt circle, in small puffs at first, then little sparks shot out.
“We have a reaction, guys. Just keep hold of him. Not long now.”
Foam built up in his mouth, dribbled out, and slid down his cheek onto the mattress. He gurgled his growls. I knew he was concentrating on the furniture in the room as they all started to shake. A mirror on the dressing table cracked.
“Hey, the towels did come in handy.” I wrapped the mirror in the wet towel and felt the shards come loose and try to fly off, yet its intention to slice was now hampered.
“Please, I need water,” came a weak, tiresome voice from a frail body.
Father Dylan jumped to attention and searched for a drink.
I caught his attention and beckoned him over. “No, Father Dylan. You do not pander to any demon. It may sound like the boy is coming back, but he’s just testing to see which is the vulnerable one, the soft one, and you’ve stepped up. Do you understand?”
He nodded his head and went back to his post, yet I sensed the young man didn’t get the severity of what we were dealing with.
I remember the priest who took pity on my sister, the demon made him punch another one in the eye. Of course, the other one was from Dublin, and didn’t have a clue why he was being punched. Then there was a ruckus with a few other priests trying to pull them apart. The one being forced by the demon got the shit beat out of him. If I wasn’t so worried about my sister, I would have laughed at the insulting names they called each other.
The demon spoke up, disgusted I was on to him.
“Oh, you’re good, Father. Very good.” The demon freak cackled.
Again, I ignored. These demons have a way of getting into your head, if you let them. They change your perception, even make you see what’s not there. You keep your distance, and they can’t get in.
I stood at the end of the bed. “Right. This message is for Paul. I know you’re still in there and can hear me. We’re here to save your soul, and I need you to be strong and fight this demon inside you. A body without a soul is a demon’s playing field. Stay with me, Paul.”
I signalled to Father Niall to go to the right of Paul as I walked to the left of him. We had our salt container in our hands. The demon’s eyes widened and he shook his body fiercely, pulling at the restraints until blood seeped into the material.
I saw Father Dylan tilt his head and shake his salt container. His eyes met the young boys and lingered for a few moments.
‘Oh fuck,’ I thought
Father Dylan released the arm and leg he had held tightly and held his head with clenched fists. He howled with pain and anguish. His face turned a dark shade of red and his bottom teeth gripped his top lip. Father Niall didn’t know what hit him. An angry punch thumped him in the side of the head.
“Father Dylan. Stop it now,” I roared. “You need to come back to us. We’re not your enemy,”
Father Dylan pounced around in a circle, crashing off the wall and the bed, nearly falling over. I raced around and grabbed his shoulders. He tried to fucking headbutt me in the nose, but I was too quick, and he whacked his forehead off my chin. It hurt, but was a great save. I couldn’t handle another broken nose. Three times it has been broken at these fecking exorcisms. From flying furniture to flying fists.
“They’re here to get me. I can’t let them find me,” Father Dylan fell to the floor, curled up into a ball, and cried like a baby. He punched his own head a few times and screeched.
“My head is caving in. I heard the crack,”
“It’s not real, Dylan. Snap out of it. Whoever you’re talking about doesn’t exist anymore,”
I sat him up and slapped him across the face twice. He quivered and glared up at me.
“What happened?”
“Well, you lied on your submission form, that’s for sure. ‘No childhood trauma’ was a must, ye feckin’ eejit. You’re too vulnerable now with this fucker. You’ll have to leave the room.”
“No, please, Father Jack. I’ll be fine. It was just a bit of bullying. No big deal.”
“Yeah, tell that to your subconscious. Out with ye.”
He sauntered off out the room with his head held low. When you wanna do this job, you can’t have any trauma. Now, I know I did, but my trauma of my sister was different, it gives them fear, because I’ve been seeing these fuckers for a long time.
That day with my sister, a priest had had a terrible childhood. He cried like a baby and they removed from the room. I heard he ended up in a mental institution.
“Okay. With Father Dylan gone, Ronan, you’re holding him down.”
Poor Father Niall was still nursing his head as I went back to my place on the side of the bed.
Chapter 4
“This time. Nothing’s gonna stop us. Father Niall. Let’s do this.”
We sprinkled the salt over the boy’s body, from head to toe. This is how it needs to be done. If I threw the whole lot on, the demon would emerge too fast and could kill Paul. Slow and steady wins the race. Skin sizzled when the salt touched it. Paul’s body vibrated so fast, it was barely seen with the naked eye, even I couldn’t see it. The demon started to detach… their entities were coming apart.
We continued to sprinkle the salt over the boy. He devilishly wailed as steam escaped from his skin and evaporated.
“It burns. Stop it,” the demon begged in its growling voice.
I sprinkled more on, while Father Niall said some prayers. Each time the salt hit the skin, the demon emerged in a transparent photonic state. Their molecules were not fully formed in this realm, that’s why they needed a human host. To solidify their bodies. Its face appeared for the first time. These demons were ugly bastards, like retching ugly. Their skin, like rock, cracked with evil. Horns protruded from their heads, big tusks stuck out from their elongated faces. This is why those so-called Satanists and the Wicca crowd worship the goat. These ugly bastards resembled the poor dumb animals.
Ronan spoke up with excitement.
“It’s working. He’s losing his grip.”
“Shut up, ye fecking eejit,” I mumbled through my teeth. A demon’s power can strengthen when it’s not trying to consume the body. If it’s able to zone in on a target, they’re fucked.
Its red and black eyes settled on Father Ronan. An intense glare of pure evil. Father Ronan touched his eye and shook his head. I saw something dark roll down his face.
“Quick, you’re bleeding from the eye. Go get the wet towel, sprinkle salt on it and put it on your face.” By the time I said that, his two eyes leaked blood profusely. He yelped and held his head in his hands.
“Hurry, before it crushes your brain. There’s no time to waste,”
Father Ronan, not being able to see, staggered to the front of the room. He held out his hands, searching for the towels, blinded by the crimson fluid consuming his vision.
As he reached his arms out, he fell forward and knocked his noggin off the dresser. Like a tree falling, he crashed to the ground with a loud thud.
“For fuck’s sake.” It was probably for the best he was out cold; the demon would have less control.
I nodded at Father Niall, our signal to increase the dose, so to speak. Our sprinkles turned into handfuls, grinding out the salt.
When they did the same to my sister, the smell of burning flesh filled the house. They didn’t know to sprinkle in those days, they scooped it up and poured it on. The demon fought it for a few minutes, with her body vibrating so fast, but it leapt out, and they barely had the fucking portal open. That could have been a disaster, a free demon walking around. I didn’t know then as an onlooker, but one time I didn’t have the crystals charged enough and the portal was weak. Fuck, it made mincemeat of us. Luckily, there were eight of us that night. We fought as hard as we could and eventually pushed it into the portal when two of us ran at it with a quartz countertop. Its powerless against crystal material like that. There were a lot of injuries from that night. Anyway, back to my sister, she went into shock as the demon’s body was being sucked out. They realised she wasn’t breathing and conducted CPR on her. She was too long without oxygen. And now, because of me, she was brain damaged. Not ‘all there’ in the head.
The demon howled and brought my attention back. It lifted himself from the boy’s body, the burning sensation too much to tolerate. Its skin was black, with an ice-like structure underneath, probably why salt was its worst enemy. I could see oozing, yellow legions all over where the salt had touched its body. They bubbled and popped, squirting little flames out. It was enraged at losing the body. I needed to act fast. I removed my secret weapon from my pocket. The reason it wasn’t on my checklist is that I always have it with me. Always. In my hand, I held a large black tourmaline crystal. These crystals are pyroelectric, meaning it can generate electricity when heated, as well as piezoelectric, which means it can store an electrical charge, causing it to release negative ions and far infrared radiation. Precisely what’s needed to open the portal back to their realm. I charged it before I was picked up.
“Father Conor. Get your arse over here now,”
The demon floated mid-air above Paul, who was now crying, eyes widened, frozen. Tears flowed down his battered face. Father langer Conor held the crystal and rubbed it between his hands. He blew at the crystal, pointing his breath directly above the demon. Sparks flew everywhere as a portal began to open. Coloured lightning bolts shot across the room; a mixture of red, blue, and green bolts. They brighten up the room.
“Is everything all right in there?” asked Mrs Kelly as she tapped lightly on the door.
“Mom?” A weak and frightened Paul called out.
“Don’t come in, Mrs Kelly, we’re nearly done.”
A portal rip in its realm opened and started to suck the demon into it. It held the rim, desperately trying to stay. I grabbed hold of the crystal, too. The energy from our bodies would strengthen the rip, and its grip it had on the demon.
“Paul?”
Mrs Kelly entered the room and screamed. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. What the feck is that?”
“Mrs Kelly, I told you not to come in. This is the demon trying to control your son. Do not come any closer, but now you’re here, please check Father Ronan; he’s the one on the floor.”
She knelt and held her hand in front of his mouth, with a constant terrified stare at the demon. “Well, he’s still fecking breathing,”
“Check his eyes. If you see a glint of another colour, let me know.”
She opened his eyelids. “Nope, a lovely sky blue, the same as earlier.”
“Thanks, Mrs Kelly. You should probably leave now. This is gonna get ugly.”
“I used to be a midwife. I’ve seen much worse than this,”
All the while, the portal rip absorbed the demon’s legs and worked on its torso. A screech filled the room, its time here in our realm was ending. I raised my hand and waved goodbye to the monstrosity. He opened his mouth, exposing sharp, brown teeth, alongside the tusks, and a long, pointy tongue. He bellowed a pure hateful roar, and it glared right at me as its shoulders were sucked in next. Long, leathered fingers with yellow nails, gripped the sides of the ever-decreasing hole into another realm. I knew the glare said ‘we’ll be back. We’re gonna get you’. I was enemy number one in their realm. With the head now pulled in, the demon was no longer seen, yet I’m sure I heard it wail on the other side. I placed the crystal in my pocket, and with that, the portal vanished.
Father Ronan sat up and nursed his head, Mrs Kelly had wrapped a towel around it. Father Dylan peeked in. He saw my disapproving eyes. “Sorry, Father Jack. I had to go to the toilet. I didn’t realise she’d come in,”
Father Niall sat to take a breather and popped a blood pressure tablet in his mouth.
Paul, looking weak and dishevelled, called out to his mother. Mrs Kelly ran over to him and gave him a huge hug; she wouldn’t let go easily. I warned her to watch over him. Late stage possessions were not always successful. I should know, my sister will never be the same and it’s all my fault. I was with her that day the strange man came into the shop. Instead of serving him, I ran and hid. My sister talked to him. I saw that glint in her eye when he left.
Father wankstain Conor strolled over and stood beside me, content with a job well done.
I watched him open his gob. If he said it, I was gonna go fucking mad. He better not. He better not. I’ll kill him if he does. He said it after every fucking exorcism and portal closure.
“Christ on a bike! That was something else,” Father Conor said, and sighed.
I screamed inside. “Ye little bollocks.”
𓏶
As they left the house, a glimmer of red shone over Father Dylan’s eyes.
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