The young, naive man sat next to ‘Father’ Geniol. The Vatican had assigned him to be the father’s latest apprentice. Daniel had just recently taken on the vestments of a holy man but quickly found himself in trouble for his ‘carnal desires.’ His choices were to suffer excommunication or to become the apprentice to the Father here. Daniel took the later knowing while it was almost a guaranteed death sentence, at least he would be welcome into the kingdom of Heaven. It would… just be a little quicker than he had originally planned, thought Daniel.

The Father took a swig from his holy water font(?) “Father did you just take a drink of holy water?”, asked Daniel. Turning to Daniel and no longer looking at the road ahead, the scent of whiskey overwhelmed Daniel. “Yeap, thank our Lord Jameson. Amen” Daniel was appalled at this blasphemy but held his tongue least he earn yet another black eye from the Father.

Barely missing an oncoming truck, the Father swerved the car somehow sensing the danger without at glance. “Come now ‘child’ if the son of man’s blood is wine a nip or two of alcohol only brings us closer to him.” Daniel could only bite his tongue harder and may also have wet himself.

Looking a bit disappointed the Father put the font back into his front pocket and again looked at the road. Daniel had witnessed the power of this holy man next to him. His aura was palpable when he stepped into a room as he would quickly slur some prayers in Latin, Greek and other languages. These prayers seemed to seal the room and cause the demons to reel in fear. The Father would then approach the demon who would scream and plead. Then with a simple touch the Father would exorcise the abomination.

The Father and Daniel were on their way to a mansion where something powerful had taken hold of the manor’s youngest. Whatever it was had slain a fellow priest and drove another mad. It was such cases that the Vatican would send Father Geniol and by extension his apprentice.

Arriving later that day, the Father quickly gathered his possessions and practically dragged Daniel inside. “Are we not going to rest and pray,” asked Daniel. “No rest for the wicked,” came the reply from the Father with an uncharacteristic chuckle. They were ushered upstairs to a room with a door barely on its hinges. The Father removed his Font (the same one as he had previously drank from) and made a big spectacle of splashing the door frame before the worried parents.

As if on cue the occupant of the room started screeching and scratching. Daniel thought for a second and realized this one spoke Latin. Previously these demons spoke either an unfamiliar language or what he assumed was the language of Hell. Quickly entering the door the Father started approaching the possessed child who was in the corner. Daniel heard the demon shout in Latin. “Devourer please come no closer, let me leave this child.” The small hands of the child pointed at him. “Devourer why do you want to eat me, that corrupted man’s soul would be much more satisfying. Just leave me…”

The Father finished approaching the child and with a forceful shove, the child fell limply to the floor. The sense of foreboding emanating from the fragile frame gone. Thinking back at the other exorcisms, Daniel realized that every one of the possessed had gestured similarly in his direction. He had thought they were pointing to the door but no it was him…

Daniel felt behind him at the doorknob and quickly retracted his hand… it was scalding hot. Father Geniol seeing the understanding in Daniels face, started to approach him.

Monday: The mayor announced that we’ll be installing spikes on the park benches at night to prevent the homeless from sleeping. Looks like I am going to need a new address. Father Martin had offered to temporarily put me up with him in the church premises. Maybe it’s time I took him up on the offer.

Tuesday: Today was a good day. The young man with the sharp suit got me a pizza. It has been 3 days since I last ate.

I hope I get to see him again. He works in a fruit factory, I think, selling apples.

Wednesday: I found a new friend today! She nuzzled up against me when I was sleeping! I think we are going to be the best of friends!

I have decided to name her Tamara.

I need to find some food for Tamara.

Thursday: Bad day. Someone stole my blanket during the night. Later, when looking for something to eat, a lady screamed at me for no reason. Apparently she wanted me to find a job.

Why are people so mean?

Friday: There’s a storm warning. I have decided to take up Father Martin’s offer. Tamara must be safe.

Saturday: A massive storm is raging outside. Father Martin has to go out, apparently a kid got possessed. I have decided to drive the Father as no one else can come to the church in this storm.

It has been over 3 hours. The storm outside rages, while Father Martin continues his exorcism inside.

I fear for the old man. If it doesn’t end soon, the old man might end up having a heart attack.

The door creeks as Father Martin walks outside. His face is red with exertion.

“I suspect it is a high prince of hell” he croaks.

Then he collapses in the chair.

I bring him water to drink. Suggest he rests for a bit.

Soon the old man falls asleep. Eighty is no age to be running around fighting demons. I feel for the Father.

As Father Martin snores gently, I decide to take a peek.

The room smells wrong, rotten. A kid lies in the bed. Hearing my footsteps the kid opens her eyes and smiles a ravenous smile.

“A girl” the thing inside her growls.

I’d recognize that voice anywhere.

I step into the light. “Hello, Beelzebub.” I say, softly.

The little girl’s face contorts in fear.

“Mazikeen?? Mistress, what are you doing here?”

Beelzebub continues staring at me wide-eyed as I walk upto the bedside table and pick up the cross the old man was using, toying with it.

“Wasn’t aware I owed you any explanations, Beelzebub” I say, softly.

“Of course not, Mistress. A thousand- no, a million apologies! How may this humble servant serve Mistress?”

“Leave.” I say, politely but firmly. “And let them know that Malone county is off limits.”

Then I add, even more softly: “I won’t be nearly as generous the next time.”

Beelzebub shudders visibly.

Then he is gone.

The child snores, lightly. He will remember none of this.

I step out of the room. When Father Martin wakes up he will discover his exorcism worked.

Sunday: The storm has cleared. It’s warm and sunny outside.

As I was taking a walk outside I was suddenly hit by a beer bottle in my face along with a call of “Fuck off, hobo slut!” from a passing car. I could hear laughter from inside the car as it then sped away.

Why are people so cruel?

I was drinking another bottle of Vodka when Brother James approached me with a few exorcism assignments.

"Bevra? Baron of 6th Hell? Pfft, that's small fucking fry. You should know by now I'm only called upon to take on the big bad boys," I snorted.

James bowed and showed another assignment. Mammon. Duke of Greed in the 9th Hell. Now we're talking. Now, this is the sort of challenge I live for. Can't wait to fuck this one up and show him who's boss. But first, I still have to attend one of those boring customary mission briefings.

James reminded me not to be rude, and no profanities in the presence of the cardinal. Eh, kid, you seem to be forgetting, you might not like my ways, but I'm the best exorcist you got. I just love this job so much, well, most of it, besides the boring briefings.

Ah yes, Mammon is wrecking shit in New York again. I nod, smile, and pretend to pay attention while the cardinal is yapping away. He glares at the vodka bottle I brought into the room but doesn't say anything. Of course, he doesn't mention it, the one time he objected to my drinking habits, I just went on a month-long sabbath, munching popcorn while a few demons trash a few towns.

So I take my rosary, my exorcism book, and a bottle of water. Is that water holy? Eh, who gives a fuck, I never really needed to sprinkle it at all. Looking for Mammon isn't hard at all, he's a big, dumb, greedy brute tearing his way through food factories and stuffing his face with anything that fits into his gigantic mouths.

I telepathically whisper into his ears in the ancient language. Told him to play my game, then fuck off and crawl his fucking way back to Hell. His eyes widen once he sees it's me, and he gets the hint. Maybe not so dumb after all. He raises his arms and flails about while I read these lame-ass prayers from the book. Sprinkle a bit of water on his face, and he's ready to head home to Hell.

Easy-peasy. All in a day's work, just posing, prancing, and praying for a bit before I tell them to beat it and fuck off back home to Hell. I love how easy it is to rake in good money.

I guess I ain't the only one because there is this little demon kid shuddering in the corner, watching me at work.

"I want to be powerful like you too," the kid declared. "How you take a perfectly human shape and just send them packing like that."

"Just give it a few million years and you might just get there," I tell him plainly. "Stay alive long enough while building power."

"I can't build power if everyone keeps robbing me or laughing at how human and simple my name is. Teach me your ways, oh great and wise President Haagenti. I want to be a President and a member of the 72 demons of Ars Goetia just like you!"

Cute. I'll take this kid with me. His human form is very rough around the edges, but there's definitely some raw talent I can work with. After all, it does take a powerful demon to truly assume a convincing human form, so the kid is halfway there. Maybe we can form an exorcist duo, chewing bubble gum, drinking wine, and kicking the asses of other demons.

I swirl the "holy" water bottle, turn it into wine and offer it to the demon kid. Tell me your name, kiddo.

["I'm Amy. Soon-to-be-President Amy."](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amy_(demon)

The taste of moral decay swirling around with social decadence. Tinged with despair, and forgotten dreams. Sprinkle a little violence on top..

A favorite of mine as we walked through the redlight district of this forsaken city. The neon signs an eyesore as they advertised anything and everything a degenerate could hope for. But I wasn't here for pleasure, but a business call this time. It's not uncommon for the more depressing parts of a city to be a wellspring of demonic activity. You could say they dig the vibes.

My handler kept her nose in the air, and her eyes forward as we closed in on the location. A nice enough brothel if there was ever one. Resembling an old Victorian mansion dolled up with pastel shutters, and bright garish accents. I could practically smell the sin, and I shook with anticipation.

You see I've been a resident of this city for quite a while now, and one thing I've never gotten the hang of in all my centuries of play..is sharing.

We were greeted at the door by the proprietors of the establishment, a Madam and her unusually large manservant hurriedly led us to a room upstairs. The smell of sin, sweat, and sex was almost a solid force at this point as we stood outside the room.

My handler was the first to speak as she normally is, and as she broke the awkward silence we heard nothing but rambling screams from inside the room. Talking over the noise they debated on what to do, and on how to handle the situation.

Pointless.

The Clergy had already let me out of my cage, and sent me here. The decision was already made at this point, and regardless of what the Madam wouldn't stop me from going in, and solving the problem. She did protest when I twisted the door handle and walked in; the screaming madness unleashed fully into the hallway. However my Handler and her own manservant held her back from following me inside.

On the bed of the barely furnished room was a bundle of bones and skin barely covered in cloth rags. Screaming to itself about too many things in too many voices for me to really care to listen to, and to be honest I was tired of the noise already, so I spoke.

"Quiet."

The force of the command slammed it's mouth shut with an audible crack as it's jaw acted on it's own. Primeval fear replaced the atmosphere of dread, and the thing wearing the person's skin crouched on the bed like a feline ready to pounce. It was ready to fight for what it thought was it's property. It didn't quite understand what the situation, but fear makes us all lash out so I understood.

"I didn't know." It spoke out in two voices. It's fear tainting it's words as it obviously hoped I'd forgive this transgression. Feeding in another's territory is a grave injustice, and feeding in a territory which belonged to someone so far down the totem pole was just..suicidal.

"Ignorance isn't an excuse." I replied heartedly. I knew I wasn't being fair, I'd been off the radar for so long none but a few even know I'm still up and devouring. However that's how I liked it, this gig was cushy, and amusing at times. I got to avoid the politics that I hated so much, and I got to play with a few mortals on the days off. Honestly, it's a dream job for someone as old as me. I get to soak up the ambiance of manmade horrors and I even get to snack on interlopers who think the city is ripe for the taking.

As we left the building, my handler lit a cigarette, and I smelled the rain. The Clergy's men will be here to sterilize the room, and pay for the Madam's losses in a day or two. I laughed at the thought of their priests and bishops returning to their favored brothel in a few weeks time, blissfully unaware of the horrors that are birthed by their sin.

Blissfully unaware of how well they keep me fed.

Amon sighed as he heard the nervous series of knocks on his door. The frantic pattern told him it was brother Barca, and that was the reason for his sigh. Brother Barca never came for pleasant reasons. No, where brother Henry would bring wine or father Enrico would come with good food, brother Barca came with scorn and work. A nice irony that entirely went past brother Barca's notice.

"Enter." Amon's voice was hoarse, he had to thank the liquor for that.

The door quickly opened and Amon could hear the soft shuffling of brother Barca before he finally entered his field of vision. Amon took another slow sip from his glass before looking up at an annoyed Barca.

"Good evening, brother Barca, what can I do for you? I assume you are here because you need my help?" Amon made sure to use the words need and help. He knew Barca loathed the fact that they, the holy church, needed to stoop so low as to come to him for help. In a craft, they like to think they have mastered. Amon's lips curled into a small grin. Always arrogant, these humans. They had merely touched the surface when it came to the occult. And they fancied themselves master Exorcists. They didn't even know what an exorcism truly was. Yet.

"Yes, it would seem that the church could make room to put you to work once more, we do try to throw you a bone occasionally. It is in our nature to be giving and good. Alien concepts to you, I am sure." Barca snapped. "There is another S grade Exorcism needed. Not far from here, actually. A brisk walk, for something like you."

Amon ignored the obvious attacks on his person and went directly to the point. "Oh, spare me the vitriol and childish play tonight, Barca, I am in no mood for it. This exorcism you need. Talk. What is it? When did it start? What have you tried so far? Speak fast if you want me to take care of it tonight." Amon looked up at Barca as he swirled the liquor in his glass around. He was pleased to see the result of his words in Barca's eyes.

"We do not know what it is... yet" Barca started, trying to give a good twist to their incompetence. "It started about a week ago, a pastor was contacted two days ago. He contacted us right away. We send a team, as is protocol."

"You send two juniors and one disgruntled senior that are nowhere near the skills they once maintained, as is protocol." Amon corrected Barca. It got him a grunt.

"We send the usual three-man team, yes" Barca continued. "We did not hear back from them, so we sent two golden crosses. Only one reported back, and chances are that he won't survive the night."

This caught Amon's attention. "Two golden crosses? And they did not manage to exorcise it? Who did you send?" He asked, sitting up in his chair and putting down the glass. His senses needed but a moment to sharpen. To his kind, a state of intoxication was a choice, a thought to turn on and off.

"Errebon and Miller. Errebon died." Barca replied short. Amon whistled.

"Those are experts. Errebon was a fool, but a fool that knew what he was doing. What did Miller say?"

"Not much, just that whatever it was, only you would be able to get rid of it. He was shaken, so we don't take his words too seriously. But he said that even all the golden crosses together would not be enough for this." Amon grinned at this.

"Miller is your fifth most experienced exorcist. Errebon was number seven or eight? Out of thirty-five experts total. I would believe him if I were you." Amon stood up and started stretching. He then walked over to his writing desk and put his hand on a thick bound book that rested on top of it. It was closed and locked with two iron clasps.

"Tell Messer to meet me there, in twenty minutes." Amon said as he closed his eyes for a moment while touching the book.

"Messer?" Barca asked, the disdain was palpable in his voice. "Why? And I have yet to tell you where to go."

"You don't tell me where to go, Barca, you ask. And I already know where I need to be, I just checked for myself. And I need Messer because Miller was right. This is not something we see often. I alone won't be enough. At least not if you want to keep your image whole." Amon grabbed a smaller bound book and put it in his coat, then put the coat on and turned towards Barca. "Messer, twenty minutes. Go. I will not wait. And if he is not there, people will notice."

Barca swore under his breath but left. Amon sighed, emptied the glass, and then stepped outside. An intricate dance of his finger locked the door behind him. He knew where he needed to go. He scanned the area with the book earlier. And there was a gaping hole of darkness in the otherwise finely weaved tapestry of light that covered the earth. The handiwork of God and his Angels. Amon had to be quick. A dark hole of this size would eventually grab the attention of his old acquaintances. And Amon had no need to see any of them again. It would be better if they stayed in Heaven.

Amon arrived early, but true to his word, he waited patiently. Messer arrived with only a minute to spare, with Barca close behind him. Neither looked happy.

"I brought your warlock, now get to work." Barca almost spat the words out.

"I am no warlock, priest." Messer replied.

"Shut up, both of you. Barca, make yourself useful. Get people to leave and put a ring of salt and holy water around the whole house. Messer, stop acting like a fool and sense for a moment." Barca groaned but left, happy to get away from the both of them. Messer grumbled but closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them wide.

Before the story progresses further, its important I give you some information about demons. You see, they are not born like humans are. Instead, there's a constant amount of demons. When one dies, another is created, fully-grown and aware, wandering the many planes of hell.

When a demon is created, they are weak. Some of them can barely even lift a sword. And there's only a few ways to get stronger. They can train their bodies, exercising and working to make themselves physically stronger. They can train their minds, studying, learning, and practicing to gain magic abilities. Or, they can steal the work of others.

If a demon is dying, they disappate into ash and smoke. This ash and smoke, when consumed by a demon, passes the dead's skills onto the consumer. If a demon becomes strong enough to defeat other demons, their power will grow exponentially.

But eventually, demons get bored. The planes of hell are nothing special, after all. If you've seen one volcanic lake of hellfire, you've seen them all. So, demons will leave hell, usually as soon as they're strong enough to pierce the veil dividing Hell from Earth.

But once they do so, they need to look human. They need a body. They need a host. They find a human they can overpower, and they unknowingly flip a coin. You see, when a demon takes a human hostage, there are two possible outcomes.

Outcome one; they gain control of the human. They live the humans life undiscovered, experiencing the human world until the body dies, and the demon needs to either return to hell, or find a new host.

Outcome two; they are discovered. The control is unsecure, leaving the host scrabbling against them, and the host's friends and family aware something is wrong. This then has two results. Either the host will die, by their own hands or by complications involved in the process. Or, the host will be exorcised. The demon dies, and the human regains full control.

I am one of the exorcists called upon during the second outcome. Most of my fellow exorcists call my methods "eccentric", or "a mockery of the art". But dislike my methods all they like, they cannot argue with my results. While it takes most days or weeks to exorcise a demon, it has never taken me more than an hour.

Lock me in a room with the possessed and a few witnesses, and my "eccentric" chants will leave the demon dusted quicker than any one of my colleagues could manage if they got thousands of years of practice.

You see, Im a demon. When I left hell, my coinflip landed on outcome one. I experienced earth in another's body until they died, and then I went back to hell, with new understanding of the difference between Earth and hell.

I used this knowledge to grow my strength even more. And when I went back to Earth again, this time, I tried something different. Instead of taking a body by force, I found a human who was willing to have a passenger. I did not vie for control, I simply watched. I watched how humans' walked, how they ate, how they grew, how they thought. How they lived.

I learned everything about them firsthand, from the way their cells replicated and their neurons communicated to their unconcious body language. I learned what their every tone of voice meant, I learned about their technology, I learned everything my human was willing to let me experience.

And in exchange I gave them what help I could. I lessened their pain, I aided them with their studies. I helped them maintain schedules, helped them remember things. Rather than a parasite-host relationship, I and Ella maintained a beneficial relationship. The day that she passed, I learned firsthand what the humans called Sorrow.

I retreated to hell again, hiding away for a long time as I picked my way through this new experience called grieving. Decades passed before I crossed the veil again. But this time, I used everything Ella had taught me, and I made myself a body from scratch. My frist attempt crumbled, and my second turned to sludge. But my third attempt was perfect. It fit me just right.

So I became the first demon to walk Earth in a body all my own. And the knowledge spread through all of Hell. And the very idea terrified every demon alive.

"No demon has ever done that before" They whispered to each other. "How strong must they be to manage that feat?"

I'm not sure if my strength of the time had an effect on it. But with my job exising those demons who are possesing humans, I'm even stronger now. I can do anything I want without repercussions. And what I want is to live a life among the humans.

[removed]

"...What have I to do with thee, Jesus, thou Son of the most high God? I adjure thee by God, that thou torment me not. For he said unto him, Come out of the man, thou unclean-" the young girl screams, and an unnatural force knocks me to the ground.

"Father David!" Gabriel, my apprentice, ran up to me, "Are you okay?"

The young girl, formerly Lydia, struggled against the chains, bound to the stone column. The candlelight flickers, a sent of rotting fills the room, and an innate sense of fear stabs like a dagger into me. An unnaturally deep and grizzly voice escapes the girl, "Foolish mortals, you cannot contain me! I am the darkness, I am... what is this presence?"

"Father, who art in heaven, hallow be thy name..."

The girl grows still and begins to hyperventilate.

"Father, what is going on?" Gabriel looks up at the stairwell, trying to see where this unknown prayer was coming from.

"...thy kingdom come, thy will be done..."

"No wait-" the girls eyes roll to the back of her head, "Please lord, have mercy on me."

"Not him, anyone but him..." I put my hands on my head and sigh deeply.

"...on earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day -"

A dark shroud erupts from the girl, and tears swell I her eye, "Wha- what's going on?" Lydia begins to cry.

A young man, in a black suit and bow tie, with his black hair slicked back, comes into view, "Brother David, and you must be young Gabriel."

I let out another deep sigh, for a moment forgetting about the demon and crying child, "Brother Caine, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was just in Roma, and I heard you were having issues with a level 13 demon. I'd love to catch up, but we need to get her out of those chains first." He walks over and slides a small knife, with an elaborately carved wooden handle.

"How did you do that? You exercised at tier 13 demon, with a full possession of a host, only using a portion of the lord's prayer!" Gabriel runs up to the Caine, with a look of amazement and admiration.

"It's not the verse that banishes the demon. It is the faith in our lord above." He smiles down at Gabriel.

"Don't feed him such nonsense. Not everyone possesses your natural talents." I grab Gabriel by the shoulder and pull him closer.

"Leave me now, I'll finish up here."

"Gladly. Come, Gabriel. " I could tell Gabriel wished to stay, see him work, and ask more questions, but he knows not to defy my order. Caine's abilities are great, but he is without caution. Entering the extraction chamber, knowing there is a powerful demon within, without proper raiment, would open any normal man to possession or death.

"Come here dear, it's over now."

The girl, seeing his warm smile and the silver cross around his neck, lunged forward, embracing him in a hug. Caine bends down on one knee and takes the girl by the shoulders, "Everything will be alright, you can trust me."

Caine proceeds to stab his hand into her gut, going through her shirt and skin. The girls face freezes as he slowly removes his hand, a bright white light contained within. His jaw unhenges as he consumes a pure, innocent soul.

"That would explain it." Shadows amass, like a puddle of darkness on the floor. From this unnatural darkness, a form emerges. A skinny demon with two large horns, with skin as dark as night. The demon kneels before Father Caine.

Caine snaps his jaw back in place, "I expected you to flee, I am pleasantly surprised."

"I would never abandon the chance to serve you, Lord Beelzebub, prince of he'll, devil of gluttony, Lord of the Flys, master of savages, bringer of-"

"Enough, I cease your groveling."

"Yes, my lord. I must ask, why have you abandoned hell for this lesser form?"

"You will see soon enough, first though, overtake this body. Without the soul, you'll find no struggle." Lydia's body stands almost perfectly still, blabbering about 'the darkness,' as most of those Caine exorcises do.

"Yes, master." The shadows lose their form and flow into the girl.

"Meet me in Vien in a fortnight. Act like a traumatized child before the priests, return to her family, and drown the body in a river. Then, hide in animals during the day and travel in secrecy at night. Once you arrive in Vein, I'll find you." Caine grabs the girl by the shoulder and ascends to stairwell.

“Who is it?” The frail voice, barely audible through the heavy wood door, had the distinctive lilt of an accent.

“Mrs. Green?” The voice of the priest carried a similar, but subtlety different lilt. “I’m from the Archdiocese.”

The old door creaked open to reveal a tiny woman, old and hunched, squinting from the dark interior of the house into the setting sun.

“Oh, good,” she sighed. “I told them to send an Irishman. Priests from the fatherland understand the old ways best.”

A smile appeared on the weathered face of the priest. “Indeed, ma’am,” he replied and tipped his hat. “The sons and daughters of Eire have always had a way with these things.”

The old woman stepped back, giving the lanky priest a wan smile. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. “I’ve put the kettle on.” She croaked through a hoarse throat. “Can I offer you-?”

“Maybe after I’ve dealt with your boy, ma’am.” The priest interrupted and removed his felt hat as he crossed the threshold.

“My grandson,” the woman sighed. “He’s been acting strangely for weeks, but I thought…”

The priest placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “No need to be hard on yourself, the devil’s wiles are subtle even to his strongest disciples.”

A grateful smile crossed the woman’s face, and she patted the Priest’s hand. A rosary was tied around her hand. The priest caught the crucifix at the end in his tattooed palm. “Your faith is strong, Mrs. Green,” he murmured as his slate-grey eyes wandered the intricate detail of the nailed figure. “It will see you through this tribulation. Now, where might I find your grandson?” the priest asked softly, letting the crucifix fall from his grip.

“Upstairs, in his room.” Mrs. Green pointed at the staircase, then pressed a key into the priest’s hand. “First door on the right. I had to lock the door; he was-”

“Thank you,” The priest interrupted with another smile. The smell of sulfur, un-mistakable to the priest’s trained senses, would have led him to the boy even without her help.

The old stairs creaked under the priest’s feet as he climbed, the stench becoming stronger with every step. As he got closer, he could hear the ramblings of the boy.

“God… dead and rotting… maggots will chew…”

As the priest approached the door, other scents emerged. Feces, urine, vomit, and blood. The muttering from inside became shouting when the occupant heard the key in the lock.

“I’ll drag you to hell!”

The priest opened the door, stepping into the reek of the room with deliberate steps.

“Fuck you, priest!” The bulky young man was crouched in the corner, savagely tearing at the savaged flesh of his arms with his teeth. The young man was maybe in his mid-twenties. The priest had never been good at judging human ages, especially when the face was soaked in blood.

“I’ll crucify you like your precious lord,” the possessed man howled, revealing a mouth of jagged and broken teeth. “I’ll put maggots in your eyes and fill your throat with spiders!”

Spying a chair that appeared mostly clean, the priest set his satchel on the floor, then began to undo the buttons of his long jacket. Folding it with care, he set it on the seat of the chair, and placed his hat on top.

“This one is mine!” Bloody saliva splattered from the man’s mouth as he continued to scream. “I’ve already eaten his soul, and I’ll shit it into God’s mouth!” He lunged forward, then danced backwards, like a dog harrying its prey.

“Be silent, whelp.” Any trace of accent had vanished from the priest’s voice, replaced by a low growl. He opened his satchel, removing sheets of paper printed with Latin script, a hammer, and a box of nails. Holding one of the sheets against the door, he positioned a nail and drew back the hammer.

“A holy barrier!” The man cackled. “First I’ll tear your throat out priest, then rip through that and shred that old bit-”

Wham!

With one sure strike, the priest drove the nail into the wall, hanging the first page.

“Be silent,” the priest snarled, “or I will burn that tongue from your mouth. You do not know to whom you speak.”

Wham! Another page hung.

The man laughed. “I am speaking to God’s whore! I will send you to hell and fuck you with-”

The tattoo on the priest’s hand flashed and a gout of flame, the deepest shade of orange, erupted from the possessed man’s mouth. He screamed as flesh melted and enamel shattered in the heat.

Wham! The final page hung.

“Have you even seen Hell?” The priest growled as he turned toward the possessed man, who was now clutching at the ruined flesh of his mouth. His eyes were filled with pain, confusion, and fear. “Or were you one of those mass-produced abominations Lucifer churned out to feed his war machine? Chewed up and spit out into the mortal plane before you could even learn what Hell was. What its purpose, its true purpose, was?”

The priest dropped his hammer to the ground, and began rolling up his sleeves, revealing forearms crossed with scar-tissue and more tattoos. “I have. Before I took my post, I walked the Cinder Barrens with the Light-Bringer. I helped quarry the bedrock of the Umbral peaks to raise His Onyx Palace, His seat of authority. I looked over His domain, the domain I helped to build, and I knew true joy. Joy as only someone who knows their purpose can.”

Behind the priest, the pages ignited with power. The delicate script burned a searing red, bathing the room in its ruby light. The possessed man began to panic, thrashing on the ground, scrabbling backwards, trying to get as far away from the pages as possible. On the ground, a circle, filled with runes and alchemical symbols began to char itself into the floorboards.

“But the Morning-Star, for all his wisdom, could not look past his embarrassment at his banishment. He and his generals sought only to build an army to conquer what he believed was his by birth. I consoled against them, and for that I was banished to the deepest pits of the Abyssal Depths, to shepherd the Beasts that Writhe.”

The circle complete, the priest, his tattoos alight with power, reached out and seized the possessed man in his fist, dragging him into the circle. The possessed man hissed and fought, scratching and screaming, but the priest’s grip was of iron.

“Maybe I should have protested, maybe I should have disobeyed, but I did not. For millennia I performed my duty, focused entirely on my task of keeping those primordial titans bound. Maybe, if I hadn’t focused so entirely on that, I would have seen it coming. But I did not, and when Lucifer threw open the gates of Hell, and unleashed his Legions, I was helpless to intervene. Too late, I watched as God smote down the Light-Bringer, and scattered the armies of hell to the winds.”

The skin of the possessed man began to bubble, and smoke poured from his mouth and eyes. The priest raised the man to eye level. The man’s eyes had turned jaundice yellow, and the pupils had morphed into the vertical slits of a cat’s.

“We finally meet, Ny’sacth,” the being dressed in priest’s vestments growled. His own eyes had become the crimson of clotted blood. “I ask again,” he snarled in a deepening voice. “Have you truly seen Hell?”

The possessed man began shaking his head frantically. The demon in priest’s vestments grinned, for the first time since entering the room. “You will. Its plains are empty, its cells are barren, but I’ll see Lucifer’s folly undone if it’s the last thing I do.”

The man in priest’s clothing held the demon’s gaze. “You see, Ny’sacth, Hell is not a kingdom. It’s a prison, and I am its final jailer.”

​

*****

​

“-don’t think you understand, Mrs. Green, the Archdiocese sent us, no one else.”

The priest buttoned the last button on his coat, picked up his satchel, and began descending the stairs.

“But I’m telling you,” Mrs. Green said to the two priests dressed in elaborate purple robes at her door. “I let him in over an hour ago. He’s upstairs.”

The creak of the stairs alerted the three to his presence. “Father,” Mrs. Green said, turning toward him. “These two men say-”

“Your grandson will live,” the priest interrupted, settling his hat on his head. “However, he’ll need immediate medical attention.” The lilt had returned to his voice. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a handful of silver coins. “You will have to replace the floor in that room.” Placing the coins into Mrs. Green’s hand, he gently slipped past her, pushed through the priests on the front steps, and walked away into the night.

"Henderson." I could hear the spite in his voice. The vicar had come in full clergy attire, as if to steel himself for the awful task - of talking to me. Well, I couldn't let the opportunity go to waste. Turning to the man slowly, I smiled wide, petting the parrot on my shoulder. Some fools would point out the bird was stuffed and scruffy; they would soon learn not to make fun of Polly's condition. She was still man's best companion, even if less talkative than others.

"Whatcha want now?" I asked politely.

"I... erm..." The vicar looked down, as if there was bravery to be found by his feet. "We have another demonic gate. In the warehouse district, the green building. Our best me-"

"Your best men couldn't tell a garden gnome from a national treasure," I interrupted brusquely, turning away. Demons, then. Well, I had the tool for that. An old, trusty Garand, hanging on the wall, soon found its way on my shoulder. In the meantime, my holy companion gulped, his cheeks growing red. It was clear he wished to speak his mind - and knew better than to do so.

"All right, mate," I added with a smile. "Demons it is, then. Have they got any hatchets?"

"Ha- what in the Lord's name are you talking about, Henderson?" My name was spat out, as if a curse against humanity. Well, not too far from the truth in fact - though the old man didn't need to know it.

"Hatchets, vicar. Axes. Wooden stick, metal at the end, sharp edge. You know em, yes?"

"Wha- you know what, nevermind. They probably do. Just... go and fix it, okay?"

With a click, a bullet was loaded into the rifle, and my old companions - trusty pirate hat, fake parrot on the shoulder, and knowledge that noone could outsmart, or barring that, outcrazy me - I hobbled past the man from the church.

"All you had ta say, mate. Could use a new one round the house," I murmured with a grin. It was demon hunting season.

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