Dominor Maleficious Ch. 2

“Thank you for coming, Ms. Kieryn, Ms. Hannon.”

“Thank you for calling us over, Barlen,” Hannon and I echoed, curtsying in unison. Old widow Barlen stood aside, holding her clean wooden door open to us. This home normally would have been brightly lit, but today the drapes were drawn. The lamps were put out. The vase of flowers that usually sat upon the table had been replaced with a book of scriptures. It’s always on the loveliest of days that the worst happens.

“Why are the lamps out?” Hannon whispered as she crossed the threshold. Her brunette braids almost seemed to stand up with anxiety; she had never been in the Barlen house with the lamps off, and she’d been afraid of the dark for many years. I took her gloved hand in mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Barlen lit the small candle beside the door. Every wrinkle in her worried and weary face was amplified by the sharp light. The candle shook in her knobby hands. “He says the light hurts his eyes,” the woman said softly. “Do you suppose he could be-”

“Don’t say it,” I cautioned. “He may just have a migraine, ma’am.”

But I did suppose, as Barlen put it. It would be the seventh case of it in the past week. Hannon’s pale hand crept into the safety of her purse, probably to the pocket containing her silver dagger. With a fake smile on her lips, she asked, “Whereabouts is the victim, ma’am?” I would have jabbed her ribs for her lack of sympathy (and grammar), but the widow Barlen already walked toward the hall. Hannon and I followed obediently.

“Kieryn,” my sister whispered, “What if it is contagious?”

“You speak nonsense,” I replied sharply. Barlen’s hulking shadow seemed to slow ahead of us, so I dropped my voice to a quieter tone. “Demons pick their hosts with care. Indiscriminately infecting humans would be…”

“Quite the war tactic, yes?” Hannon’s coal-black eyes somehow seemed darker than usual, despite the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Balderdash. A demon would have to split its spirit into pieces to infect multiple people; with every infected person, the demon would only become weaker. It would be folly.” She had no answer for me, just a stony look of concern. I hoped to God she was wrong. She was ever one to exaggerate the situation, always one to terrify herself with dark notions that were usually incorrect… “Besides,” I added lightly, “An epidemic of demonic possession would put a lot of money in the pockets of exorcists such as ourselves.”

Barlen turned to us at the first doorway. “My son is on the bed.” Hannon didn’t pause in her stride; with her blooded red dress swinging behind her heels, she strode into our patient’s bedroom and spared not a glance for me. There was no light in that room; I was loathe to enter, but Barlen’s grave expression as she stood outside the door was encouragement enough for me to go in.

“Oh, Holy Mother…” I heard Hannon gasp. As I walked into the small room, I had to agree with her sentiments.

Though he was barely visibly in the candlelight, the young man on the bed was clearly a mess. The blankets were trembling as he twitched and writhed. His skin and bedclothes were drenched with sweat. His dark and unkempt hair was smattered all over his face and stuck to the pillow. His open eyes were like black pools, completely devoid of light. Unintelligible syllables kept pouring from his cracked lips. It was a wonder that his moans and mutterings were inaudible in the hallway. Whether or not he was possessed remained to be seen, but he was clearly diseased.

Time to get to work. “How long as he been like this?” I asked the woman in the door as I began to unpack my bag. My tools were limited; a green wine bottle labeled “Blessed Water”, a bag of barley, and a black leather book with no words on the cover and yellowing pages. Hannon ignored Barlen’s shocked face and removed several ugly weapons and belts from her purse.

“It started last night,” Barlen rasped. “Why do you bring weapons to my son’s bed?”

“Some demons can’t be exorcized,” Hannon said dully. “In those cases, a quick and clean death is the greatest mercy.” I should have hit her. Only one exorcism in a thousand went that badly, and it was cruel to worry the widow with such words.

“It is a very rare misfortune,” I cut in. “One that I do not believe will happen today, but we must restrain him.” The boy Igzander made a horrible hissing noise, then fell back to his muttering. In any other state, he would have been handsome; it was sad. I rolled up my lacy blue sleeves as Hannon belted our patient to the headboard. Barlen’s face was lost in shadow as she leaned heavily against the doorframe, watching our every action with what I assumed to be morbid fascination.

“You may not want to watch this,” Hannon warned the woman as she removed a vial and her silver dagger.

“What’s that for?!” Barlen gasped. She obviously didn’t like the fact that Hannon held a dagger to her son’s wrist.

“We need to run a blood test to make sure he’s possessed,” I informed Barlen. “It would not do to exorcize him for being sick but not-” Igzander screamed like a banshee and thrashed uselessly against his bindings, and I knew that Hannon’s knife had tasted his blood. I sat on Igzander’s thrashing feet to hold him still.

“Got it,” Hannon sighed, as she poured the small amount of blood into a larger vial.

Barlen suddenly remembered how to breath. With a very red face, she growled, “How does this butchery tell you if he’s possessed?” Hannon gave the woman a brief smile and seized the blessed water. She pulled out the cork with her teeth in a rather unladylike fashion, blatantly ignored my disapproving glare, and spat the cap onto the bedside table.

“Just add blessed water.” She poured a drop of blessed water into the vial.

Nothing happened. For a very pregnant moment, all but the babbling Igzander were focused entirely on the vial.

A sudden hiss ripped through the air. The concoction boiled and bubbled, nearly spilling from the vial. The blessed water made Igzander’s blood froth and turn black. This sign was unmistakable. “Get me the book, Kieryn,” my sister whispered.

Barlen fell to her ancient knees, dropping the candle onto the floor. The dark room became a stuffy black hole, with tension as thick as blood. I could not bear to look at her as Hannon turned to the small leather book. Once upon a time, I had felt that same kind of horror; the cruel knowledge that someone I loved had become a demon’s meat puppet. Hannon’s long fingers danced through the pages, seeking the proper passage. “D, D, D… Here we are, Dominor Maleficious. Barlen, unless you wish to see your son completely overshadowed by a demon, it’s time for you to leave.”

I could not see Barlen, but I could sense that her unease had increased tenfold. Her voice was broken, as if she had aged another twenty years in a matter of seconds. “What are you going to do to my little boy?”

How I ever hoped that Hannon would lie. How I wanted Barlen to think the process was harmless. I explained in my sister’s stead, with eyes shut tightly and a throat dry as sand.

“To cast out the demon, we must know its name and what binds it to Igzander’s body. We can afford no holy objects… So, to gain that knowledge, we must use a magic spell to make the demon strong enough to speak through him.”

If Barlen had anything to say about this, it could not be heard over her writhing son’s babbling, which had begun to sound more and more like speech of an unknown tongue. I opened my eyes to see Hannon sprinkling bits of barley and rosemary in a circle around the frenetic boy, who still thrashed against his bonds.

“No.” Barlen rose from the floor, leaving the candle where it had fallen. “No, no, you won’t do that to my boy. You cannot.”

Hannon explained, in her typically merciless manner. “Some demons destroy their host as they leave the body. Unless we identify the demon before we exorcise it, we could accidentally remove Iggy’s soul and leave his body as an empty shell.” Barlen drew back as if she’d been slapped. Her foot crushed the candle’s wick and put out the light, and then she ran blindly from the room.

I decided to strangle Hannon when this was over. I would have done it immediately, but the demon wasn’t going to exorcise itself. I tightened the belts that held Igzander prisoner on his own bed. “Are you ready?”

Hannon nodded solemnly. I fled the circle. Despite being several years younger than me, Hannon know more about magic than I; she was to be obeyed without question whenever magic was involved. She took my place the circle of barley and rosemary, taking one last look at the book before exchanging it for her silver dagger. Her black eyes were laced with remorse. She would have to cast Dominor Maleficious, the spell to empower demons.

Every time Dominor Maleficious was cast, it did more than make a demon stronger; whoever cast the spell would forfeit their blood. Only a little would be needed to cast the spell, but the demon would then have rights to spell caster’s blood at any time…

And demons never forget a debt.

Hannon stood over Igzander’s bedside. She held her shaking hand over the struggling boy.

“Hear me, O demon,” Hannon commanded. Igzander’s writhing seemed to lessen. Hannon took the silver knife to her thumb. “I offer to you my own blood, the blood of Hannon, daughter of Osen!” The dagger sang through the air for a moment before tasting my dear sister’s flesh. I wanted to look away, but I could not, I simply could not. Even in the darkness, I saw that Hannon’s face was hard as she watched her own life drip onto Igzander’s cracked lips.

The boy had stopped struggling. He watched Hannon with wide eyes and gasping lips.

“I call unto you the life of Navirix, spirit of fire.” The silver dagger pierced Hannon’s index finger. Blood that matched her red dress fell on the boy, who lay still as if dead.

“I call unto you the will of Arraki,  spirit of shadow.” Another finger was slit. Not a muscle moved beneath the boy’s skin.

“I call unto you the strength of Knusht, spirit of earth.” More blood. The boy’s face relaxed as his he suddenly hadn’t a care in the world.

“I offer to you the despair of all mankind!” A sweet smile touched the boy’s lips as Hannon mutilated herself again.

“Let this become your power.” Hannon’s voice began to falter. Thank goodness the spell was complete! I let out a gasp of air that I hadn’t known I was holding; Hannon nearly dropped her knife; I took it from her clammy hands.

“I will take over,” I told Hannon firmly. “You should sit.” She nodded briskly and retired to the chair beside the circle. I fixed my attention to the creature tied to the bed.

It was no longer Igzander. It appeared human from head to toe, except for the eyes, which were pools of darkness. The demon was still smiling through its puppet’s lips. I held the knife within the demon’s sight.

“Tell me, demon-”

“Good morning.”

I dropped the knife.

The demon’s voice was not evil at all; though I could see only one mouth and only one tongue, the voices of thousands of children poured from Igzander’s lips. I heard Hannon’s horrified gasp as the her blade clattered to the floor.

“I said good morning,” the demon continued with its thousands of innocent voices, “But I haven’t a clue what the time is. Is it day-time at all?” My hands trembled as I took the knife from the floor. Never had I seen a demon speak so politely- and its voice! Its voice was a weapon to take advantage of our maternal instincts.

“Yes,” Hannon said vaguely. “It is morning.” I spared her a glance and saw an ugly mace held tightly in her pale hands.

The boy’s head raised slightly, black eyes consuming everything around it before focusing on Hannon. “We never dreamed that a daughter of the demon slayer Osen would grant demons such powerful gifts,” it giggled. Igzander’s face, which had been ugly in its anguish, was handsome again. “Our most heartfelt thanks to you, beautiful Hannon!” It tried to bow, but could only nod its head to her. It turned to stare at me, its face suddenly blank. “And you must be Kieryn. Your father is well known in our circle.”

“Kieryn?” Hannon whispered uncertainly.

I kicked the footboard of the bed and forced my knife-bearing hand to steady. “She did not grant you the strength to speak for idle chit-chat!” I cried. “By all things good and Holy, I command you to tell us your name!”

The demon only laughed in its many youthful voices, as if I had just told a funny joke. “Have you got any paper and ink? Our names are many!”

Hannon was already pulling a quill from her bag. “How many are you?”

“Well over seventeen thousand.”

The air grew very still. Seventeen thousand demons? Seventeen thousand?

Only the demon- no, the demons appeared unperturbed by this. “You will need a lot of paper.”

Hannon tucked her quill back in her purse; my little sister was on her feet again, without a trace of her former weakness on her face. “You’re a disease, aren’t you?” Her sweet lips were pulled into a grimace. “A legion of the children of lesser demons, bound to this boy by a virus?” The demons laughed brightly at her words, showing us how white Igzander’s teeth were.

I stood frozen, lost in my horrified thoughts. Hannon was right, the demons can breed in our bodies! It would explain why these demons speak in the voices of children… Hannon’s bloody fingers maintained their grip on her deadly mace, as if she would kill Igzander if she were wrong.

“Clever girl,” the demons sang without malice. “We could not leave the boy if we tried. Believe us, we have tried!” Igzander’s face abruptly transformed from laughter to concern. “What will become of us, beautiful and generous daughters of Osen?”

I finally got my lips to move, though my voice was dry and alarmed. “We can’t exorcise so many of them! It will take years!” None of my fear showed on Hannon’s features; in fact, a smile graced her pale lips. She tossed her braided brunette hair and laughed.

“We have no need to exorcise these wicked children!” Her dark eyes sparkled. “When his body conquers the disease, the demons will perish as well, won’t they? If they’re only bound to Igzander by the virus, surely they will vanish when he is cured!”

“Vanish? To where?” the demons asked. Their tone was suspicious, perhaps even frightened…

Hannon’s smile was sadistic. “No mercy for the wicked,” she told the young parasites. “I’ll send you back to hell with some penicillin!” I took her gloved hand, the one that wasn’t all bloodied up. For a moment, she seemed surprised that I was still there, I had been so silent.

“We must get Igzander to the hospital,” I whispered.

Hannon lifted her mace. “Oh good, that means I can sedate them!” I could risk no hurt to the boy! I moved to stop her, but her arm swung wide and-

CRASH.

The mace fell noisily on the cold wooden floor.

Hannon moaned and fell on top of it, red dress all in a heap, brunette braids falling noiselessly around her slight frame. Shards of glass from the broken window surrounded her. The back of her head was bleeding.

A guilty rock clattered to the floor beside her.

Somebody had thrown a rock at her through the window!

Seething with rage, I threw open the curtains, ignoring the demon’s howls of pain as blazing sunlight invaded the Igzander’s bedchamber. “You wretched vandal!” I bellowed. All I could see on the streets were a progression of soldiers. “Show your face, scoundrel! Your rock struck my sister on the head!” I received no answer but the stomp of the soldier’s feet and the horrible wailing of thousands of children.

“Draw the drapes, draw the drapes!” the demons screamed.

“Shut up, you damned parasites!” I snarled, hardly recalling that getting the demons to talk had been our idea since the beginning. I closed the curtains and took Hannon’s face in my hands. I could feel her breathing, but she did not stir. “Hannon!” I called urgently, giving her pale cheek a light slap. “Hannon, dear, wake up!”

Hannon’s unfocused eyes drifted open. “Kieryn?” she slurred.

“Hush,” I commanded quietly. “You’ve been smote by a rock.” She had already closed her eyes and fallen limply to the floor. Her lovely red dress crumpled around her; my beautiful sister was as a wilted rose. “Hannon?” I choked and held Hannon’s limp form. I did not know what to do; about the demons, about the broken window, about Hannon. What could I do, surrounded by broken glass, holding my fallen sister in the company of seventeen thousand demons? I was riddled with fear, for Hannon, for Igzander, for myself…

The wicked children giggled, “This is a strange turn of events.”

My fear melted into rage. How dare they mock the situation! They were the weak ones trapped in a boy’s body, so weak they hadn’t even been able to talk without Hannon’s spell! I wished no harm to the boy Igzander, but these young demons needed to learn a lesson! I plucked the rock from the floor, hoping that it wouldn’t hurt Igzander too badly when I bashed his head with it…

Igzander’s face did not show fear or malice; the demons still maintained their mask of curious innocence. “What does the rock say?” they asked.

“What do you mean?” I stepped back into the circle of barley. I turned to glare at the stone clenched in my fist.

There was a message written in the rock. My blood ran cold as I scanned the words.

“Run while you still can,” I read aloud.

“Interesting,” the demons commented. Laughter echoed behind their many voices. “But you won’t do it, will you? Proud daughter of Osen. You would destroy us instead, like a real woman.” Those accursed children were laughing at me, and I would not stand for it! Their voices rose, their laughter suddenly as angry as it was mocking. “No mercy for the young and weak, is there, wench? What a charming bigot you are!”

“This is no bigotry!” I cried, stung by their words. I had quite forgotten that demons had a talent for distracting exorcists. “You evil children would rape and ruin everything if humans gave you the chance!”

“Humans don’t need the help of demons to rape and ruin!” No more laughter. The demons were genuinely enraged, and Hannon’s belt began to stretch as Igzander’s body tried to rise. I was no longer bothered by their childlike voices. “Before humanity, there were no demons- there were only angels!”

“How dare you blame me for your master’s sins!”

“How dare you accuse us of following in our wretched father’s footsteps!” I lifted the rock as if to strike; the demons did not flinch.

“There is no such thing as an innocent demon.”

“Nor such a thing as an innocent exorcist!” The belts were stretched almost far enough for Igzander’s hands to slip through… “We claim insult from you, Kieryn, daughter of Osen! Unbind us and see what mercy we have for- OWCH!” I hit Igzander’s face with the rock, leaving an ugly red stripe across his cheek. His blackened eyes narrowed with pain. I was horrified to see tears forming on those long eyelashes, but I shook myself off it- behind the demons, Igzander was still inside that body, and he must have felt that blow just as much as the demons. “You… You…”

“You are in no position to challenge me!”

The belts snapped in half. I leapt out of the circle of barley, barely in time to avoid the demon’s angry clutches. This was no longer a weak youth on a bed. The demon children punched futilely at the circle, Igzander’s fists meeting a resisting wall air each time. I could do nothing to break their rage or stop them.

“Monster, monster!” They cried, they screamed, they howled. Horrible curses became tangled as the seventeen thousand demons were too angry to speak in unison. I found myself cowering against the wall, watching the possessed boy with morbid fascination.

The demons gave up on punches and scratched at the air that imprisoned them. Igzander’s fingers tore, his nails bent backwards, his blood pouring freely from his mutilated hands. The demons fell to the floor at the foot of the bed, sobbing with rage and agony. I could hear Igzander’s voice among them.

I caught my breath as the sobs slowly began to die down. The self-destructive rage had subsided, if only for the moment. I grasped the wall and stood on shaking legs. If the demons had broken the circle… no, I did not want to think of it! They tried so hard, but the barrier held firm. I silently gave thanks to all things divine for their protection.

“Get a doctor,” Igzander’s voice whispered. Not just the demons- Igzander. “Kill them already. They just want to go home. Your sister is hurt too; please, get a doctor…”

I knew this had to be a trick of some sort- and yet… and yet…

I pulled open the door to the hall. I was greeted by darkness. “Barlen, call for a doctor!”

Barlen didn’t answer.

I squinted my eyes, trying to find her in the dark. The sound of heavy footsteps came from the kitchen.

“Barlen…?”

The demons suddenly screamed, “That is no harmless old woman!” I had no time to register this before a huge figure bounded towards me from the shadows. I screamed a very undignified scream and slammed the door shut, barring it with my body. I could hear my own panicked breath rattling. What in God’s name is happening?!

The thing crashed into the door. The hinges were ripped from the walls. All of a sudden, the world turned upside down- no, that was me! I was being held upside-down by the ankle! Someone was screaming- that must have been me as well. I could not see what held me. There was a mass of something at my side, a shadowy hulk who’s shape I could not make out. “Put me down!” I screamed, kicking and flailing uselessly. My dress caught and tangled itself around my legs; I was trapped by my own clothes! The demons were screaming too, but it was unintelligible, probably another language.

The thing shook me like a leaf, rattling what little sense I had left- and with the effort of a child swatting a spider, it hurled me into the wall.

Something broke inside me as I fell.

I landed on top of my fallen sister and found myself incapable of motion.

Incapable of breathing…

The demons were still babbling, Hannon still refused to wake, the shadowy figure was upon me again. My swimming eyes focused on the little rock that smote my dear sister down, and I regretted that I hadn’t ran when I had the chance.

A heavy hand fell over my face, and I knew nothing more.