I reached for the Devil in the dark abyss, seeking his comfort in the face of our common enemy, but it was my own panicked voice repeating run, run, run.
“Carrington,” Joe started, his voice low and reverent, “help me light the candles, will you?”
I flinched at the memory of the flames inside the House on North Lane, the smoke’s suffocating grasp stealing my every breath.
Nathaniel obeyed, head bowed. He played the role of blind follower so well, he almost fooled me. Could I trust him? He was probably scared, terrified. If it came down to me or survival, what would he choose?
Once the candles lined every corner of the square room, their flames dancing menacingly in the mirror, I closed my eyes, calling for the Devil. The Devil, who feared no one but God, feared the man standing in front of me, as though Joe really was a vessel of the Lord.
“Pray with me,” Joe said, reaching inside his robe for a crystal blue rosary he handed to Nathaniel. “Don’t stop no matter what happens.”
Nathaniel nodded, clasping the rosary in between his hands as though it were a life raft keeping him from drifting out to sea.
Their voices echoed in unison, their prayer bouncing off the mirrored walls, growing louder and louder as candlelight painted distorted shadows on their reflections, faces warping into their own Devils.
I watched, fingernails clawing at the flesh of my arms, as Joe inched closer until he stood mere centimetres away, the crucifix close enough to bite. I did not have to act when I thrashed against the chains and spat at his feet. There was no one I hated more at that moment.
Latin rolled off his tongue, the Devil stirring at the resurrection of the dead language. I hadn’t known it was Latin during my first exorcism, but schooling introduced me to the language that the Devil was so afraid of. His silence heightened the fear flooding through my body. I wasn’t used to facing these horrors alone. The Devil had always been there. Taunting, yes. Mocking, of course. But he was there, protecting me when necessary.
I thrashed against the chains as Nathaniel had instructed, channelling the role of a demon fighting against God’s divine power.
Joe raised his voice, but the flames did not rise at his command. Smoke did not smother me. I was not gasping for air, fighting to survive, like all those years ago in North Lane. It wasnot Joe, then, who had the power to expel the demon. It was my mother.
“Satan!” Joe called, droplets of holy water landing on my forehead. “You are banished from this boy’s body! You are banished from his soul! You are banished from God’s Kingdom! Be gone!”
I wrestled with the chains, spitting at Joe’s feet.
"Be gone!" Joe repeated.
I screamed, the sound echoing along the walls, my reflection trembling as though a demon really were struggling to maintain possession. I gave my chains one last yank before collapsing with feigned exhaustion, eyelids fluttering shut.
A heavy silence followed, the flames drowning in wet wax.
“Did it work?” Nathaniel asked, voice laced with hope. “Is the Devil gone?”
Joe crouched down, fingers against my neck to feel for a pulse. “Augustus?” he called softly. “Can you hear me?”
I forced my eyes open with feigned confusion, groaning as though my muscles ached. “What’s…what’s going on?”
“Your soul has been freed,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face, “you have been saved. The Devil plagues you no more.”
I will tear that smile off his face with my teeth.
The Devil had returned, his harsh tongue a welcome torment. I relaxed, shoulders slumping as though I were a man truly freed.
“What happens now?” Nathaniel asked.
Joe brushed the hair out of my eyes as he said, “Now we pray.”
Nathaniel hovered by the door, picking at his lip as he watched Joe raise his hands in the air, prayer spilling from his lips in endless waves. I could tell he was growing impatient, as was I.
I sat, unblinking, head bowed in a mimicry of devotion. The Devil laughed behind my glassy eyes, hatred laced in each wordthat poured from his wicked tongue. I dared not look in the mirror, afraid of what I might see in the Devil’s eyes.
“Augustus,” Joe whispered. “I am going to unchain you. Rise slowly, your body may be weak.”
The rustle of metal announced the removal of my shackles, the absence of iron a welcome relief.
Nathaniel was at my side in an instant, throwing one of my arms over his shoulder to steady me as my legs refused to cooperate. “We should go,” he whispered, guiding me toward the door.
